Disclaimer: I don't even own a house.

AN: My most marvelous readers, thank you so much for reading (heh...that sounded so redundant). And thank you also, you who have reviewed! I really love reading them...there's just something that still remains frightfully novel about so many people reading what I write, and enjoying it.
And I'm very pleased that Harry's little rant was enjoyed - there were so many times in canon that I wished Harry would just tell everyone to get over themselves ;)

Chapter 25: Of Presents and Pretences

Two weeks after Halloween, Hermione decided it was about time that the study group resumed. Upon their first meeting, several of the original members were still reluctant to associate with Harry, but after Hermione's long lecture on rational decision-making and considering all the evidence before making drastic judgements, those who were not yet convinced of Harry's innocence were cowed into submission by Hermione's expressive vocabulary. Suffice it to say, Harry had been impressed, and rather flattered.

Several new members had joined, including Luna Lovegood and Colin Creevey – Terry had also taken to showing up on a few occasions, as had Ron Weasley. Harry had even managed to drag Draco, along with Crabbe and Goyle, with him one week. Ginny Weasley had shown up once as well, encouraged by both Hermione and her brother; however, the shy girl hadn't exactly been in a pleasant mood – Harry could not help but wonder what had happened to the sweet disposition her demeanour had suggested at Flourish and Blotts.

As it had been in the previous year, most of the group's study time revolved around potions – the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs were especially attentive during the one session that Draco took some time to (grudgingly) expound on the theory behind potion brewing. The long shadow of the snarky Potions Master and the theme of his complex subject seemed to be a misfortune that none of the students were able to escape.

"I just can't do it." Hannah buried her head in her pile of books and notes. "How am I supposed to remember all this? Especially with Professor Snape breathing down my neck the whole time!"

Beside her, Neville sighed and shook his head, also looking utterly defeated. "I've just given up. There's nothing to be done about it."

Hermione looked halfway between directing a scowl and sympathy at them.

Terry, across the table, grinned. "Maybe you could have Colin take pictures of your notes, and then sneak them to the tests with you!"

That earned him a smack on the head from Anthony.

Hermione ignored them, brows knitting together in concern. "Where is, Colin, anyway? I didn't see him on my way down."

"Maybe he's hiding in the stacks taking photos of Potter again," Ron piped up.

Hermione scowled at him, and was about to make a retort, before she heard the sound of Hannah's head hitting the desk again.

"What in Merlin's name is the Law of Transference of Reaction Energies anyway?"

Hermione blinked. "From chapter eight, remember? We covered it a few weeks ago."

"A few weeks ago? How am I supposed to remember that? That was so long ago...Harry?" Hannah said wretchedly, turning to face the raven-haired boy, who was completely absorbed in his reading, "What about those mn-mne…mnemo…"

"Mnemonic devices," Harry supplied.

"Yeah, those. Got any more of those?"

Harry looked up from his book on potion experimentation, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "Anything could be used as a memory device, really…but…another common one is the method of loci."

Hannah frowned in confusion, but Hermione's eyes widened. "A memory palace!"

Harry nodded, then turned his attention to the others' confused glances. "Basically, you think of a place you know really, really well, like your bedroom, and you associate everything you want to remember with something in there. Like, you could attach different potions ingredients with distinct books on your shelf, or noticeable dresses in your closet, or pictures on your wall."

Hannah looked thoughtful. "That makes sense. But how –"

She was suddenly interrupted, as all the students spun about, startled by the noise of shouts and rushing footsteps coming from outside the library. Joining the flurry of curious students, the study group evacuated the library, finding themselves immediately swimming through the congested corridor, filled with chattering students, whose faces were pale and drawn with looks macabre fascination.

Anthony immediately pushed forward to address Penelope; the tall, blonde prefect stood off in a corner, murmuring quietly with some other upper year students. "Penelope! What's all this about?"

The girl started, glancing at Anthony, and then at the other study group members, eyes coming to rest worriedly on Harry, along with the glare of her boyfriend, Percy Weasley. "There's been another attack – someone else has been petrified."

They all gasped, eyes wide with concern.

"Who?" Hannah cried.

"Colin Creevey," Percy Weasley replied stiffly, eyes still pointedly fixed on Harry, who was desperately combatting the urge to curse the pompous prefect.

"Colin!" Hermione whispered, hands trembling slightly. "That's why he didn't show up today…"

"That's right," a loud voice suddenly called from across the corridor, belonging to one Zacharias Smith. "The annoying little muggleborn kid that used to follow Potter around all the time."

The chatter permeating through the corridor quieted as Harry's eyes narrowed dangerously, fixing themselves on the form of the second year Hufflepuff.

"Harry," Hermione warned concernedly, stepping in front of him.

But Harry brushed right past her, marching purposefully toward Zacharias. Meanwhile, everyone else in the corridor hushed, frozen until, from out of nowhere, really, Fred and George suddenly popped out of the crowd, urging them out of the way with the shouted warning they had taken to bellowing in Harry's presence,

"Make way for the Heir of Slytherin! Seriously evil wizard coming through!"

Instead of playing along with their theatricality as he usually did, though, Harry ignored them, eyes stiffly fixed on the blonde Hufflepuff in front of him. "Is there something you'd like to say, Smith?"

The boy sneered. "Yeah, there is. Don't think for one moment that I believe that tale you and your cronies have been spreading – everyone knows you're the Heir of Slytherin, everyone knows you're behind all the murders! You may be a Ravenclaw, but everyone knows you're in with the Slytherins – you and Draco Malfoy; best mates, cousins, right?"

Harry scoffed. "I'm related to the Blacks, Smith, as are you, and probably half the people in this room as well."

"Doesn't change the fact that you belong with those snakes!"

"The entirety of Slytherin House is hardly responsible for whatever's going on," Harry spat, "If you think they are, you're just as much of a prejudiced bigot as whoever this hell the Heir of Slytherin is."

Smith's face was flaming scarlet with anger. "Which is you! Don't try to deny it - Creevey being petrified is proof of your guilt – everyone knows he annoyed you! It's only a matter of time before everyone who's ever upset you turns up petrified or dead by Slytherin's beast!"

Harry glowered at him darkly, biting out a derisive scoff. "Do you know what I do to people who upset me, Smith?"

"What?" he spat.

Harry smirked coldly. :You asked for it.:

Startled and terrified by the icy hiss Harry's voice had morphed into, Zacharias didn't even budge as Harry's well aimed diffindo sliced his left cheek open.

"Entomorphis!"

Hands and arms stretching out and thinning, two more sprouting from his abdomen, face painfully morphing into something unrecognizable – Zacharias Smith slowly transformed into a giant beetle-like creature, screaming as he did. Unable to move until the transformation was complete, he let out a wretched shriek as he ripped past the crowd, flying down one of the darkened, abandoned corridors.

Meanwhile, Harry sneered at his retreating form. "As if I need some beast to do my dirty work for me."

"…and once again, your attention-seeking, arrogant disregard for the rules has caused a spectacle at the expense of everyone else in the vicinity. Three first years fainted in terror of your antics, several students ended up jinxed, hexed, cursed, or trampled, and are now in the infirmary – the perpetrators are still unknown, and will most likely remain so due to the chaos you caused –"

"They can thank me later."

"- and right when the riot seemed to calm but a little, none other than Peeves showed up, attracted by the debacle you initiated. The smell of dungbombs will no doubt linger in the library for weeks…"

Harry rolled his eyes, sitting back in the surprisingly comfy chair in the Potions Master's office, a decidedly dull, unimpressed look on his face. Honestly, the professor's furious rant might have intimidated a first year Hufflepuff, but really, who did he think he was kidding? Under the Potions Master's furiously cold black eyes, Harry's precious afternoon was slowly ticking away, much to his displeasure – and he was already in such a bad mood. And in years to come, when he looked back on that afternoon, what would he have to recall? Severus Snape's oily yet grating voice, detailing his most recent achievements in a most distasteful manner.

"…was it not for your clear penchant for sociopathic behavious, I might ask what in Merlin's name might inspire such a dunderheaded, witless act, but that would simply be begging the question, wouldn't it, Potter?"

Harry rolled his eyes, again, scoffing loudly. "Oh, come on. We both know that faced with the same scenario, you would have done the exact same thing."

The professor scowled viciously. "Once again, Potter, your ability to be utterly and inappropriately arrogant is astounding to even me."

"Just making a relevant point."

Professor Snape sneered. "And how, pray tell, is that relevant?"

"It's relevant because I was perfectly justified in hexing Smith, and anyone who isn't a pansy or Hermione would have done the same. We both know you can't convince me I'm wrong, because I'm not, so can you just give me detention and be done with it?"

The professor glared at him piercingly, tapping his long, sallow finger on the desk in thought.

"How 'bout detention with you?" Harry suggested, careful not to betray any emotion in his face that might set the professor off. "Bet the infirmary's busy this time of year, with quidditch and all. Lots of ingredients to chop, cauldrons to clean."

The professor's thin lip curled, eyes alight with suspicion. "I do wonder what heinous scheming would warrant such a suggestion."

Harry blinked innocently. "Scheming? Not at all. I was simply perusing a book on experiments in the variations of complex potions the other day, and was unsure about some of the techniques. No better teaching than the observation of a master, right?"

The professor narrowed his eyes, scanning Harry with piercing intensity; once he was satisfied, he sat back in his chair, face carefully blank, as he nodded curtly. "Be here at six o'clock sharp, tomorrow evening. You will have detention every second night until February."

Harry quickly fixed his grimace into a quick, grateful smile as he rose from his seat.

"The next time you cause an incident like this, I will have you expelled."

Harry smirked. "Oh, come on, the Headmaster wouldn't allow that – I'm pretty sure he thinks I'm a lost little boy who asserts his self worth through mischief."

The professor grimaced. "You may have everyone else fooled, Potter, but mind - the Headmaster is more intelligent than he appears. And don't ever presume that you've fooled me."

"I'd never dream of it." He made to open the door.

"Oh, and Potter?"

Harry looked over his shoulder expectantly.

"One hundred points from Ravenclaw."

"So…I'm pretty sure he thinks I'm dangerously psychotic, but overall, I think it went quite well, save for my utterly wasted afternoon," Harry explained to Hermione, Neville, Terry and Anthony as they made their way toward the library. Since their previous study session had been rudely interrupted, Hermione had insisted that they resume the next morning – though a few were too busy or distracted (that is, had plans to sleep in), most of the group members agreed to show up.

"Well you are, mate," Terry corrected.

Hermione immediately jumped to Harry's defence. "No, he isn't! He's just misunderstood…and…enjoys it…"

Harry simply looked between them bemusedly.

"Well," Neville concluded, "It's no wonder Professor Snape likes you so much."

The others choked out incredulous laughs.

Neville blushed. "I said that out loud, didn't I?"

Terry grinned, patting him on the shoulder.

Harry feigned tears. "My little boy is growing up."

"He is a teacher, you know," Hermione put in disapprovingly, "Show some respect!"

"She's right," Anthony agreed, "What if a Slytherin prefect had heard you?" He looked pointedly at Harry. "Despite your antics in Defence Against the Dark Arts, Ravenclaw's in the lead for points. We can't afford to lose any right now."

Harry chuckled sheepishly. "Yeah, about that…"

Anthony narrowed his eyes. "No points were taken for yesterday, right? You said you got detention…"

"Umm…well, Professor Snape took points too…a hundred of them," he finished quietly.

Anthony stiffened, stopping short in the library entrance and paling dramatically. "One…hundred…points…"

"But I'll win them all back, I promise!" Harry said, grinning.

Anthony said nothing, a grim, traumatized look clouding his face.

"Heh…" Harry grimaced, and then glanced about the library eagerly until he found the other study group members, and ran up to them. "Hey, guys, how are you this fine morning?"

Luna, who was sitting cross-legged and bare-footed in the middle of the table, looked at him blankly. "As wonderful as possible considering the distinct lack of wrackspurts – they don't like the smell, you see."

Harry nodded sagely, sitting down at the table. "Can't really blame them."

"Harry," Ernie suddenly said with sincere concern tinting his voice, the tone drawing the other boy's attention, "I wanted to apologize, on behalf of Hufflepuff, for Zacharias's words, yesterday..."

"He's still in the infirmary," Hannah added.

Harry smiled slightly at both of them, winking at Hannah. "You sure know how to cheer me up."

Meanwhile, the other students sat down at the table; Hermione, as usually, sat at the head, and as soon as everyone was seated, she opened her mouth to speak.

"Since we were…interrupted yesterday, I thought that we might take some extra time to study this morning." She took a deep breath. "In light of the stress that recent events have inflicted, I thought it would be best if we took some time to study for our end of term potions test –"

She was interrupted by the sound of Harry humming indecisively.

"What is it now!" she snapped.

"Boooorrring," Harry sang.

"What should we talk about then?"

"Well, considering I was dosed with a potentially toxic level of 'Potions Master' last night, something other than potions."

"Well?" Hermione asked distastefully.

"Well...I think we should talk about Christmas."

Everyone's faces (except Hermione's) lit up.

"Christmas?" Ernie said excitedly.

Harry nodded. "It's in less than a month, after all. Speaking of which, is anyone staying behind at the castle?"

Terry grinned. "You know I am. The holidays are always more fun with you." The 'than with my parents' bit went unsaid.

"I'm going home," Ernie replied, "And so is Hannah."

"Gran wants me home too," Neville said.

"My brothers and Ginny and I will be staying," Ron piped up.

Harry grinned at him. "I suppose we'll have to have another snowball war then."

Anthony sighed. "I'll be at home."

"And I have to miss the snowball war as well," Michael grumbled.

"Daddy might get eaten by nargles if I don't trim the mistletoe for him," Luna said with some disappointment evident in her musical voice, "Though a snowball war sounds perfectly splendid."

"What about you, Hermione?" Neville asked.

Hermione, seemingly resigned to the dissolving of the study session into a discussion on the holidays, looked at him lethargically. "I'll probably stay with my parents for the holidays."

Harry made a dramatic show of feigning tears. "But Hermione – I'll miss you so much…"

She snorted.

Neville grinned slightly. "We can all still send letters, you know."

Suddenly, Hannah clapped her hands cheerily, a giddy look forming on her rosy face. "Oh! We should all send each other presents!"

"That's right," Terry chimed in, "Harry and I got each other presents last year – imagine how many presents we'd all have if we all shopped for each other!"

Anthony frowned slightly. "Wouldn't that be a bit…much?"

"Yeah," Harry groused, "It'd take forever to pick out presents for all of you. Why would I even want to…?"

"Well, how about this," Hermione suggested, "We all pick one person to buy a gift for."

Terry grinned, pulling out a notebook. "Yeah! We can write our names down on a piece of paper, and then mix up all the papers."

Hannah nodded excitedly. "And we'll keep it a secret until Christmas, so that everyone's surprised!"

The idea seemed to be received favourably, as everyone seated at the table jotted down their names on a folded piece of parchment, Hermione transfiguring a small sack out of her robe, and then holding it out for everyone to toss their names in.

"What if we pick our own name?" Neville suddenly asked, frowning as a grimacing Hermione handed the bag to him, having just read the name on the parchment she had picked.

Harry shrugged. "Then you get to buy yourself a present, I suppose."

"I'd pick myself some turnips," Luna commented softly as she also picked a name, smiling brightly when she read it.

The bag, having circumnavigated the far side the table, was passed to Terry next, who smirked upon reading his name. Anthony took the bag from him, and then handed it to Harry, who sighed.

"I suppose the last one's mine," he said, fishing the last piece of parchment out, and then transfigured the sack back – into a rather pretty black party dress.

Hermione scowled, transfiguring the dress into a far more modest robe. "Let's hope you didn't pick my name – knowing you, you'll probably buy something completely impractical."

Harry was hard pressed to supress an incredulous, yet worried laugh when he opened his parchment and read the flawless, neat, flowing longhand, "Hermione Granger."

:…and then the water crystalizes, and too heavy to remain in the air, it falls to the ground. That's where the white stuff, snow comes from,: Harry explained patiently to Laini, who was snuggling into his night shirt, basking in his body heat.

:I like it when you tell me stories…: she hissed contentedly.

Harry chuckled softly, careful not to disturb his familiar with the low vibrations in his chest. :It's not a story – that's really where snow comes from…it's science; humans have been studying it for years…:

:Tell me another story,: Laini insisted.

Harry rolled his eyes. :Fine, fine….alright, well, once upon a time, there was…er…a ring, yeah, a ring. The dark lord Sauron made it in a big volcano, but then he got himself killed, and someone stole the ring…:

"Harry…."

At the sound of Jean's whining voice, Harry glanced over at the portrait. "What?"

"I want to talk to you too," Jean said grumpily. "You only ever talk to her now."

Harry quirked an eyebrow. "Wait, you're jealous?"

"Course I am! Being a portrait, my self-worth is already at an all-time low – I don't need my heir ignoring me too!"

Harry sighed. "Why don't you just tell Laini a story, then?"

"I can't."

"What do you mean?"

"I can't speak parseltongue," Jean groused unhappily.

Harry frowned. "What? Why?"

"I dunno…I can still understand it, but I can't seem to actually speak it."

Harry blinked. "Oh." He glanced down at Laini, who seemed to have fallen into a soft slumber. "Well, I was meaning to ask you something anyway."

"What?"

Harry sighed. "What do you think I should get Hermione for Christmas?"

Jean sat back in his chair slowly, a musing expression veiling his tanned complexion. "The bookish, prissy muggleborn girl? Huh…well, in my experience, girls like jewelry."

Harry shook his head. "For Hermione, it has to be something useful."

Jean rolled his eyes. "Just get her a book or something."

"But she already has so many," Harry objected, gritting his teeth, "I want to get her something that no one else would think to – you know, something special."

Jean grimaced, pretending to gag.

"Oh, stuff it. She's one of my favourite friends, and besides myself and my teachers, she's the smartest person I know. I can't just get her anything."

"Well, then…why don't you make her something? You know, something to show her how much you care…which is obviously a great deal," Jean pointed out matter-of-factly.

Harry nodded slowly. "Yeah…that's a good idea…" He frowned. "I think."

"It is. She'll love whatever you come up with, I'm sure."

Harry leered at him suspiciously. "You sure you're not just saying that."

Jean chuckled. "Don't you have a detention to get to?"

Harry frowned, glancing at his watch, and immediately darting to his feet. "Shit, I'm gonna be late!"

With invigorated wakefulness, he flew out of the boys' dorm and through the common room, ignoring all else as he practically tumbled down the stairs from Ravenclaw Tower. The halls and staircases quiet with the evening calm, only sound present was the frantic pattering of his footsteps echoes as his unrelenting pace brought him closer and closer to the dungeons – and every time his body urged him to slow down, all he had to do was remind himself that he did not want to end up as a potion ingredient.

Professor Snape observed with a condescendingly raised eyebrow when Harry burst into his office wheezing and puffing, glancing up at the clock in the corner.

"It's a pity you weren't late, Potter – I've been meaning to brew a potion that requires the kidneys of an arrogant halfwit and the pituitary gland of a self-important imbecile. I believe I could have harvested both from your cold corpse quite nicely."

Harry chuckled uneasily. "I'm guessing you had a back up plan?"

The professor looked at him down his long nose, sneering slightly. "Indeed." He gestured to a small work table on the far side of the room, upon which lay a lamp, several knives, a few bunches of herbs, and some neatly labelled jars. "You will start by shredding Valerian roots – we will be replenishing my veritaserum stores tonight."

Harry supressed a victorious grin in favour of walking over to his little work table quietly, eyes trained intently on the Potions Master in an attempt to burn his every procedure into his mind.

*Sigh* almost at Christmas holidays - for real, too!