Winter was setting in at Hogwarts. Hagrid could be seen putting scarves and ear muffs on his plants in his gardens, and the dungeons were freezing. One cold, November morning, the first frost set in, and Madam Pomfrey, the Herbology professor began fretting over her Ubblechubs.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione were seated at the Gryffindor table eating breakfast when the usual owls soared in. Harry spotted Hedwig easily through the mass of brown. Sirius must've written back. Swooping down onto the table, Harry opened the letter Hedwig had given him and read in an undertone.
Dear Harry,
If someone's set off the Dark Mark, for fun or not, this is very serious. I need you to be very careful. If someone in the castle is setting off the Dark Mark that must mean that they had connections with Voldemort. My first guess would be Snape but as he's away…I don't know. I'm staying in Hogsmeade now-don't worry, the Ministry doesn't care much about me anymore-they probably think I'm dead-so security is lax. I can't say everything I would like to in this letter in case it is intercepted, but there are definitely things you'll need to know. Christmas Day, I need you to be in Dumbledore's office at 8 o'clock. The password's Fizzing Whizbee's-bring the invisibility cloak
Sirius
"He's come back to Hogsmeade!" cried Harry. "Why did I write to him?"
Hermione looked worried. "I hope he's all right."
Harry glared into his waffles, and gave a piece of bacon to Hedwig. "This is so stupid! I should've known he'd do this! Look what he did when my scar twinged a bit!"
"But-but something did happen," Ron said. "Why do you reckon you've got to be in Dumbledore's office?"
"Dunno," said Harry glumly. "All I know is that I have a complete idiot for a godfather."

Classes were getting harder than ever. It was not uncommon to see Professor McGonagoll snapping in class, or for tiny Professor Flitwick to be looking thoroughly stressed. The only teacher no one got much trouble from, was Hagrid, who seemed preoccupied with something else. This would've come as an enormous relief to the Care of Magical Creatures class, had not they been bored to death reading books about Jarveys who had to be some of the most obnoxious creatures ever. Most teachers were looking incredibly stressed...well that is except for Professor Gingle who had been walking around, acting just as eccentric as ever.
"Right then, right then!" he said during one class. "We'll be starting Shield Charms today!"
"Shield Charms?" Seamus Finnigan called loudly. "Flitwick's supposed to teach us that!"
"Speak a little louder, I didn't hear you the first time," said Gingle peevishly.
Seamus seemed to have missed the sarcasm in Gingle's voice. "The Shield Charm is a Charm. You don't teach Charms, Flitwick does."
"Oh really? Well since you're so enthusiastic to tell me what I'm supposed to teach, you can come up to the head of the class and help me demonstrate Shield Charms!" Gingle said, grinning at Seamus from behind his enormous green spectacles.
"I--I didn't mean--" Seamus spluttered.
"Right then!" said Gingle, smiling even broader at a miserable looking Seamus. "Up we get get get!" Seamus sighed resignedly and walked to the front of the class. Gingle raised his wand.
"Hey!" Seamus didn't have time to say anything else. A large bang went off, and then another and another. Gingle was shouting words, and Seamus was enveloped in a cloud of thick smoke. Then the bangs stopped, Gingle lowered his wand, and the smoke died away, revealing Seamus, who appeared to have angry red boils all over his face, green snakes replacing his sandy hair, and was dancing a sort of jig.
"This," Gingle nodded at Seamus. "Is what happens when you don't know the Shield Charm. Now let's say Seamus somehow learned to master a Shield Charm and I tried to do Avada Kedavra on him," Seamus gave a whimper, as he danced in place. "Can anyone tell me if his charm would work?"
Hermione's hand shot into the air. She looked very nervous, and was looking at Seamus worriedly. "No, because the Shield Charm only protects you from minor hexes!"
Seamus gave an indignant grunt his feet still dancing. Obviously he didn't think any of his afflictions were minor.
"Good!" Professor Gingle looked delighted. "Take five points, points, points. Finnigan, go to the hospital wing."
And Seamus, still dancing, began to trot out the door.
"I can't believe he did that!" Hermione said as the class let out. "I mean, he can't curse a student, that's just wrong!"
"He can!" said Ron. "He's Gingle. And Moody put as all under the Imperius Curse."
"That was wrong too! And Moody was all....evil, after all. And for your information, Ron, Moody didn't put me under the curse!"
"And you were hopping mad about it!" Ron said.
"I don't know about you, but I'm glad I wasn't put under a dangerous curse by a dark wizard," Hermione said airily.
Ron had nothing to say to that.
"What've we got next?" asked Harry breaking the silence. He tried to hide his happiness--it was much more normal when Hermione and Ron fought than when they giggled.
Professor Fidel appeared in class as nervous as ever. Harry had to admit that Potions had definitely taken a turn for the better now that Snape had left. But the Love Potions were still immensely complicated. They'd been trying them out on rats, instead of people, and the only pair of rats that seemed to have any amorous feelings at all, were the ones who were fed Hermione's potion. Harry's rats seemed to just lie around, while Neville's attacked eachother so much, he had to be given a new pair.
"Remember!" Professor Fidel said, as she watched the fifth years stirring their potions. "The most important part of a love potion is that you need a bit of whoever is administering the potion. So take a bit of hair from one of your rats and add it in."
Harry reluctantly plucked another hair from one of his rats. Instantly the potion turned a bottle green color.
"Now," said Professor Fidel, still walking around the class. "You'll have to give the potion to one of the rats and--"
"Excuse me?"
Draco Malfoy's voice echoed through the dank dungeon.
"Er--yes?" Fidel looked very nervous.
"Oh, I just couldn't hear what you were saying. Very thick accent."
"Oh."
"Maybe not all Austrailians are like you," Malfoy had the nerve to go on. "After all, you are a Mudblood aren't you. Maybe you're just weird."
The Gryffindors gasped, but several Slytherins were chuckling. Professor Fidel went very red and said, "That will be five points from Slytherin."
Malfoy looked thoroughly pleased with himself, as he watched Professor Fidel return to her own cauldron where she was stirring a sample love potion, her head down. Harry had the unpleasant feeling that she was crying--tears were splashing into her potion in great dollops.
"Really," Harry heard Malfoy mutter, "Why doesn't she go back to the Muggles where she came from?"
Harry clenched his teeth, trying not to say anything, as he tried to thicken his potion.
"Oh, Harry!" Hermione said, looking into his cauldron. "Your potion's supposed to be orange!"
Harry looked down to see that his own potion was a vivid green.
"Now," Fidel said at the end of class, as she poured her own potion into a glass and sat it on her desk. "Love Potions remember are banned at Hogwarts and are practiced in the wizarding world with great caution. Very few wizards would stoop to the level of using a serious, life altering Love Potion..."
But Harry wasn't listening. He noticed Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle chuckling--they had smuggled several bottles of pumpkin juice in, and were drinking them, laughing to themselves.
"--so I hope that you've learned a good deal during the time that I was with you," finished Professor Fidel softly. "Er--I'll go in the back and clean up a bit. You can all have some freetime before the bell rings."
Hermione immediately began cleaning out her cauldron with a Scouring Charm, but Ron and Harry were watching Malfoy out of the corner of their eye. He, Crabbe, and Goyle, were lingering by Professor Fidel's desk, speaking darkly.
"Thank goodness she's leaving soon. You know, I wrote to father about this--teacher--I mean really she's a Mudblood," Malfoy took a swig of his pumpkin juice.
Crabbe and Goyle nodded appreciatively. "I can't wait until Professor Snape comes back. Finally we'll learn something proper for a change." He took another drink. "I--I--I..."
But Malfoy had stopped talking and was looking at Professor Fidel with quite a hazy look on his face. Harry furrowed his brow--but Hermione looked incredibly giddy.
"Look!" she giggled. She pointed openly to Professor Fidel's desk--suddenly Harry felt as if he might just giggle too. Instead of taking a swig of pumpkin juice, Malfoy had taken a gulp of Professor Fidel's love potion, and was now wandering towards the back of the classroom.
"Professor Fidel," he said dreamily. "Can I help you?"
This was apparently too much for Hermione, she burst out into loud giggles that echoed through the dungeon. Crabbe and Goyle were looking bemused.
"Wonder how long this lasts," Ron muttered. "I can't wait to get a camera!"

It took a week of doe eyed glances, doodled hearts before Malfoy's potion wore off. For once Potions was peaceful. Crabbe and Goyle were too stupid to realize that Malfoy was under a love potion, and Pansy Parkinson, a pug faced Slytherin fifth year, looked so hurt, that she never had anything to say but instead walked by Malfoy, slightly miffed with her nose in the air.
It was very pleasant, and also quite amusing, to watch Malfoy drooling over the teacher he had once caused so much trouble for. But finally, as the week came to an end, the love potion began to wear off.
"Shame though," Ron said as he, Harry, and Hermione emerged from the dungeons. "Was really funny to watch that git making eyes at Fidel."
"And I got to learn a lot without Malfoy butting in," Hermione said in a satisfied voice.
Malfoy came out of the dungeons, looking slightly confused, and not as smitten by Professor Fidel. Behind him, Pansy Parkinson, and her group of Slytherin girls were muttering darkly.
"I can't believe it!" Harry heard Pansy shriek as she passed them by. "I always thought that Draco would be mine! Not that ugly Muggle born!"
Hermione burst out into a fit of giggles and not until they reached the Great Hall for lunch did they subdue.
"What class we've got next Er-My-Knee?" asked Ron through a mouthful of candied yams.
Hermione bent down to get her bookbag, and emerged with a slightly crinkled piece of parchment. "Well I've got Double Arithmancy. That means you'll be having Double Divination, doesn't it?"
Ron groaned, swallowing his yams. "Just great, sitting in a class for an hour and a half with that old bat!"
"She'll be telling me I'll die in a weeks time," Harry said. But he was not as upset as he acted. It was the last day of school before Christmas holidays. As always, Harry had written down his name to stay, and Ron and Hermione, more out of habit than anything, put their names down to, as well as Fred, George, and Ginny. Harry suspected that the Weasley's might've been staying on Mrs. Weasley's orders, but he was grateful for it. He didn't fancy staying alone in the Gryffindor common room all through the holidays.
"Oh I've got to go!" Hermione said suddenly. "I can't believe I left my Arithmancy book up in the common room, I really hope I won't be late." She stood up, brushing crumbs off of her robes. "Well, see you Harry, Ron!" and she disappeared into the hall.
"We better get a head start," Harry said.
"Hmm?" asked Ron. His eyes were following Hermione.
"To Divination," Harry said impatiently. "It's miles away."
"Oh yeah," Ron said, shaking his head. "Right then, let's go."


Professor Trelawney was in the classroom, speaking to Lavender and Parvati, who were looking very interested.
"You see, my dears," Harry heard Professor Trelawney saying. "In order to really embrace your Inner Eye you must uncloud the worries that drift through your mind. That is why I stay up here, in my solitary class and office, so I may get better perception of the Fates that Intervene."
"What she needs is better perception of reality," muttered Ron. Harry chortled.
"The Fates that Intervene say that Professor Trelawney is a ugly, old git," Harry whispered.
"Today, we'll be starting oracle bones!" Professor Trelawney said sharply. Perhaps she'd heard Ron and Harry. "An ancient art of Divination from the East. Oracle bones are very rare, and are difficult to decode. I do not expect many of you to get through this easily. Oracle bones, however, when read correctly can tell of many things. Just yesterday I put one in the fire and when it emerged it warned me of something evil. Something coming closer to Hogwarts--death." Professor Trelawney stared at Harry. "Some of you would do well to heed my warnings instead of tempting fate," she added delicately.
Harry put his chin on the table and raised his eybrows at Professor Trelawney, looking incredibly bored.
"So, that makes it, what, the millionth time she's predicted my death?" Harry said, as they left the steamy classroom an hour and a half later.
"Ssh Harry!" Ron said. "You don't want to tempt the fates!"
"Yeah, they might send a raging manticore at me."
"Or a deranged flobberworm."
They went down to the Great Hall--Hermione didn't seem to be there, so Harry and Ron swooped past the Arithmancy classroom to see if she was late talking to Professor Vector.
"Where do you reckon she is?' Ron asked Harry.
"Dunno," Harry said. "Think we should find her?"
Ron nodded--they checked out all of Hermione's usual haunts--the Transfiguration classroom, the library. Harry even peeked in Moaning Myrtle's, out of orders, girl's bathroom. To his great relief neither Hermione--nor Moaning Myrtle--were in there.
"We should just go down to dinner," Ron finally said. "She's probably arguing with some teacher about the magical theory or something."
Harry, who's stomach was rumbling, agreed, and they went back to the Great Hall where they gulped down their dinner, and hurried back to the common room.
They found Hermione there, curled up on the couch, reading to herself.
"Hermione, where were you?" Ron said, sitting on the couch next to Hermione.
"I was in the Owlery. I had to pick up the Daily Prophet, the owl didn't come at breakfast this morning!"
"Rita Skeeter been keeping her promise?" asked Harry as he sat down next to Ron.
"Actually she has. Must be scared I'll tell someone."
"So what's been going on in the w-w-orrrld?" Ron asked, stifling an enormous yawn.
"Nothing much. There's some "human interest" article on Gringotts goblins, and some thing about a witch in Yorkshire who stood on her head for 3 days straight. Really, what rubbish."
"Nothing 'bout You-Know-Who?" Ron said, lowering his voice.
"No. Isn't that odd? You reckon Fudge is trying to hush it up? He didn't let the paper get hold of Cedric's death."
"That doesn't make sense. You said the murder of that other wizard was all over the papers."
"I don't know Harry." Hermione massaged her temples. "You're right it doesn't make sense at all."
"You know probably some mad old reporter got wind of that killing and it slipped past the Ministry. And Harry, your scar hasn't been hurting, has it?"
"No," Harry said slowly.
"So that means no one's, well, died."
"But Harry's scar didn't hurt when that other wizard died!" Hermione protested. "What if it's not working properly or something?"
"Great," Harry said dully. "I'll bring it to Darvish and Bangs to get fixed up. You reckon then it'll start going off?"
"Oh Harry, I didn't mean it that way."
"Hermione, it's the night before Christmas Eve. All I want is a normal holiday. I'm going to bed."

That night in bed, Harry stared up at his canopy. He was trying very hard not to think about his scar--what if it was, well, broken? Voldemort could touch Harry; did that mean that Harry couldn't sense Voldemort anymore? Harry rolled over in his bed, as he heard Ron enter the dormitory. The only other person there was Neville, his snores coming from the other canopy.

The next morning everyone had gone home for the Christmas holidays. When Harry awoke at ten in the morning the only person in the common room was Hermione. "Morning Harry, Ron up yet?"
"Nope," said Harry. "Just you and me."
"Well we ought to go downstairs and have some breakfast--it's late; the house elves will probably be cleaning up soon."
"Whatever happened to S.P.E.W?" Harry asked. S.P.E.W was an organization Hermione had begun the previous year, to help free house elves. Apparently Hermione had gone off it a bit.
"Oh, that," Hermione said with a wave of her hand. "I don't have enough time, and house elves are treated really well, at least at Hogwarts." Hermione furrowed her brow. "But people like Mr. Crouch and that Malfoy--"
"Talking bout spew again, Hermione?" said a sleepy voice from behind them. It was Ron, in his too short, paisley pajamas.
"It's not spew!" Hermione said shrilly. "And I was just saying how I gave it up."
"Good," said Ron. "Glad to see you've got some sense."

That afternoon they visited Hagrid in his hut. Only their deep loyalty towards Hagrid could have sent Harry, Ron, and Hermione tramping through the two feet deep snow, and when they entered Hagrid's house there was no fire, or Hagrid to greet them. Only a barking Fang, Hagrid's boarhound, and a mess of letters on Hagrid table were there.
"Where do you reckon Hagrid is?" Harry said looking around.
"He must be out," Hermione nodded towards the door, where Hagrid's moleskin coat usually hung. "Do you think we ought to wait until he gets back?"
Ron shrugged. "Might as well." He sat upon Hagrid's enormous bed, but Harry was eyeing the letters on the table. They looked the same as the ones he had seen the last time he had visited Hagrid.
"What do you reckon those are?" he asked Hermione. "Since when has Hagrid been writing letters?"
"Maybe it's to Madam Maxime. She's back in France now you know," Hermione said matter-of-factly.
"That many?"
"Well..." Hermione's interest was now captured.
"Should we have a look?" asked Ron, getting off the bed with great difficulty.
"Just a peek won't hurt--oh no, we can't!" Hermione said, looking very conflicted. "Let's just wait for Hagrid."
"Come on Hermione, just a little glimpse won't hurt," Harry wheedled.
"Well--I don't know--"
But Ron had already picked up the envelope and was reading off the address.
"The Council of Gumplump, Wulfrill Mountains, Iceland...Iceland, blimey!" Ron was looking very pale.
"What about Iceland?" Harry asked anxiously.
Both Hermione and Ron were shaking their heads. "Harry, that's where all the giants ran off to. When they began getting killed off by Aurors, after You Know Who died, they all escaped to Iceland."
"And Gumplump and Wulfrill sound really familiar," Hermione said. "I'm almost sure I read all about it in The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts."
"The Council of Gumplump? You reckon they're trying to get back to You Know Who?" Ron asked anxiously.
Harry shook his head. "I think...at the end of last term, Hagrid told me he had business to do with Madame Maxime, you remember her, the headmistress from Beauxbatons. And Dumbledore was talking about sending envoys to the giants...extending a hand of friendship."
"You mean...?" Hermione asked looking excited.
"I'm almost positive! Hagrid's trying to get the giants to join our side, that's what he's been so busy about. And I'd bet my broomstick that this summer Hagrid was doing some business in Iceland!"
"Well it makes sense, doesn't it?" Ron asked, sitting down. "But blimey, giants!"
Hermione sat down next to Ron frowning. "I just hope Hagrid doesn't get in a fight with the giants...they can be really dangerous."
Ron looked up. "I just hope Hagrid doesn't bring the giants to Hogwarts!"