Author's Note: Let me know what you think! Not Rowling.

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When she talks to the student after class, I pictured that girl from "Ferris Bueller's Day Off." The one who goes "My sister's cousin's boyfriend's best friend…blah blah blah." Enjoy!

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December had come and with it came icy winds, cloud-filled skies, and snow that blanketed everything, making Hogwarts look like something out of a fairytale, but making the inside uncomfortably chilly for its inhabitants. Hermione had been ecstatic at the first appearance of snow, but now she was regretting her praying for snow to come, as she currently had to wear three layers if she wanted to stay at a normal, mammalian temperature. She had been desperately trying to find out who was sending her the notes and packages, and had even asked Neville and Luna again if they recognized the handwriting. They both denied recognizing it, but there was something off about the way they said it that made her doubt their sincerity. It was only the third of the month, but students were already losing focus, even though break was still a few weeks away.

"Class! Class!" The Gryffindors and Ravenclaws continued on, chattering at different levels of volume dependant on their excitement. She rolled her eyes before raising her wand and making it emit a loud BANG! that stunned the class into silence. They all turned to her, wide-eyed. 'You would think, by now, the fourth years wouldn't get so jumpy about that, but you could never base maturity on age, could you?' she thought.

Once every eye was trained on her, she smiled and spoke in a carrying voice, making sure no one thought to lose focus.

"I know we have finished early today and everyone is prematurely excited for winter break, but I require your attention for a few more minutes before you are dismissed. Professor Longbottom and Professor Lovegood, your Heads of Houses, have asked me to help in letting everyone know that there will be a Hogsmeade trip this Saturday. Since today is Friday, I ask that anyone who has not yet turned in a signed permission slip allowing them to go to Hogsmeade to turn them into me, and I will make sure they get to your Heads. All the normal rules will be in place for this trip, and I advise that, if you decide on venturing out, you bundle up. Sit down, Mister Cooper. I am not finished. Remember, the essay on switching spells is due on Monday. One full roll of parchment and I will be checking to see if you've tried to cheat by writing really big. If you have any questions on it, you can come see me after class or in my office. That's it, you can go now. Have a good weekend."

The class hurried out of the classroom with the occasional "Bye Professor," but one girl walked up to Hermione's desk. She looked up as she heard the footsteps cease, putting down the papers she had been about to put into her bag. "How can I help you, Miss Richardson?" she asked with a smile. The small Gryffindor looked up at Hermione through her horn-rimmed glasses before looking back down at her book bag.

"Umm…I was told to bring something to you, Professor." The girl pulled an envelope out of her book bag and handed it to Hermione. She recognized it at once.

"Charlotte, who gave this to you?" she asked quickly, trying not to betray her curiosity and sense of urgency.

She tacked off the names on her fingers as she went through the list, trying to remember the names. "Umm, well I got it from Abigail Shaw, and she said she got it from Bramwell Barker, who said he got it from Aiden Butler, who I think got it from Holly Webster, who I heard got it from one of the O'Rieley twins, or maybe one of the McLeod brothers, and I don't know who gave it to them."

Hermione tried to not show her disappointment at not finding out who the mysterious writer was, and smiled at the girl. "Thank you very much, Charlotte. I really appreciate it."

"You have a good weekend, Professor."

"You too, dear."

As soon as she left, Hermione sat on her desk, not worried about being professional as she had just finished her last class of the day, and opened the blank envelope. Inside, a familiar handwriting had written a note on parchment.

Thought you could find out who I am from the students? Not fair, Hermione. If you're so desperate to know who keeps sending these notes to you, you're going to have to work for it. Let's make a game out of it. Where do you spend too much time, more than any person should? See you there, Hermione.

Hermione reread the note several times, making sure she had read it correctly. They were making a game out of it? What? And how had they known she had asked Charlotte? Or did they know her that well that they knew she was dying to find the answer to the question she was currently unable to solve? Probably the latter, so Hermione focused on the second part of the note. Where did she spend too much time? Well, her office, but she knew other professors that were often burning the midnight oil, same as her. She read the question again. If this person had known her at Hogwarts, maybe it was referring to her as a student. Then it hit her, the one place everyone made fun of her about, where she practically lived during her fourth, fifth, and sixth years.

"THE LIBRARY!"

She started, realizing she had shouted, and the echo was resonating in her ears. She hurriedly shoved her papers into her bag, threw her cloak over her arm, grabbed her bag, and ran from the room. She had run a few paces before realizing she was attracting quite a few odd looks. She stopped, turned, and walked composedly towards her office. As soon as she was in it, she dropped her belongings on her desk chair and hurried back to the door. She hurried out, though forced herself not to run, and made her way down to the library, walking so quickly her robes whipped around corners before people had even registered her presence. Once a few paces from the library, she slowed to a walk, knowing Madame Pince was a stickler on silence, no matter who it was. She walked in and scanned the room and the desk at which Madame Pince sat, but saw no letter. Dare she approach her?

"Madame Pince?" she asked quietly, hitching a smile onto her face, despite the fact that she still felt somewhat scared of the old woman, like a mouse under the sharp and unwavering gaze of a hawk. She looked up, her eyebrow raised, ready to shoo away the student that dare disturb the silence with their voice. When she saw Hermione, the eyebrow lowered and she looked at Hermione politely.

"How can I help you, Miss Granger?" Hermione was a little thrown off by being called Miss, but considering how old the librarian was, Hermione made no comment on the subject.

"I was wondering if, by any chance, anyone had dropped off or left a blank, sealed envelope. I know it's an odd question, but-"

"No envelope has been left here," cut in the librarian, as though she was wasting precious time by holding this conversation, even though the only thing she seemed to be doing was reading a dusty old tome.

"Umm," replied Hermione, trying to regain her composure and not act like the scared first year this woman always brought out in her, "Well, thank you very much. Please excuse me for intruding." Madame Pince sniffed, as though derisively commenting on her time being wasted and other such notions.

Hermione walked away, thinking that maybe it was as she hoped, and the mysterious letter writer was actually here somewhere. The letter had said "see you there," after all. She decided to walk through all the aisles, not knowing where the person could be hiding. She was almost through the entire library, when she realized the only place she hadn't looked was the restricted section, all the way at the back of the library. She rushed over, probably drawing a few curious glances from the students she passed, but she was too excited to notice. She got over and opened the gate that encased the restricted books, quietly thanking the gate for not creaking. She really didn't need more attention drawn to her right now. She walked through and got to the last section, the potions section. There, on the desk, was a familiar book. She walked up and saw the corner of an envelope peeking out from the pages of Moste Potente Potions. She was a bit disappointed she hadn't found the actual person, but she opened the book to the page that was marked by the envelope. Polyjuice Potion. She chuckled at the cleverness of this placement, since this had been the book she had used in her second year. She slid her finger under the flap of the envelope and pulled out the letter from inside.

You honestly thought it would be that easy? That would be a terrible game! No no, Miss Granger, you are going to have to work for it. If you think it's worth another search, here's something to help you. You always spent a considerable amount of time here, but rarely bought anything for yourself.

"Seriously?" she said loudly, incredulous. Heads swiveled around, and many wide eyes stared at her. She was mortified. "Sorry!" she whispered. A couple people chuckled and everyone turned back around, finding amusement in their teacher breaking rules. Hermione hurried out of the library, not wanting to make any more disturbances in there, and rushed back to her office. Once she was in and the door was shut, she yelled in frustration.

"Seriously? I'm on a scavenger hunt?" She began to pace, thinking. "Okay, okay, somewhere I spent a considerable amount of time, but rarely bought anything. Umm…well, it's obviously a shop, so that means Hogsmeade. Somewhere I spent a lot of time. Err…well, there's Honeyduke's, but I've bought tons of things from there, like the Sugar Quills. The Sugar Quills! Maybe there's a hint in an old note!"

She rushed over to her desk and rifled through the notes the letter writer had sent before. Finally, she came across one and knew she had her answer.

"The quill! That means Scrivenshaft's!" She spun around, delighted that she had solved it, but stopped facing the window, through which a blood red sunset could be seen.

"NO! No no no no no no! C'mon! I've figured it out and there's no time to go get it? NO!" She slumped into a nearby armchair. "This is ridiculous! I have to wait 'til tomorrow?"

She watched as the sky turned to a dusty pink that slowly faded into purple, as if the sunset was hurrying on purpose to mock her.