“I think I know who that one’s from,” said Ron, turning a bit pink and pointing to a very lumpy parcel. “My mum. I told her you didn’t expect any presents and — oh, no,” he groaned, “she’s made you a Weasley sweater.” Harry had torn open the parcel to find a thick, hand-knitted sweater in emerald green and a large box of homemade fudge. “Every year she makes us a sweater,” said Ron, unwrapping his own, “and mine’s always maroon.”
Stoppppppp ill cry
