White a night to be sneaking!

When Hermione and Victor finished touring the gardens of snow drifts and sculpted snow creatures and within sight of the Durmstrang ship Hermione let go his hand. They'd had an amusing debate about whether he should walk her to Gryffindor tower, as was muggle tradition based on their genders. Conversely, reasoning from first principles, the point of the tradition was provide the more vulnerable with escort until such was no longer needed.

And while Krum in deed was older and the champion of his school, Hogwarts was Hermione's home turf and he'd drunk a bit more than she. ("It is very very good whisky," he'd kept saying. It's McGonagall's brand, thought Hermione, the left-overs are probably going to vanish into her stash. Then again perhaps they came out of it.)

They'd talked a bit more, and sculpted their own snow figure, a wampus cat sitting on its haunches looking out over the lake.

.

On Hermione's way back to the castle Tom riddle hovered up hill beside her on a tiny magic carpet.

"Hello, Slytherin Champion," said Hermione, "too good to get snow on your boots like the rest of us?"

"Not at all," he said, and set the carpet down with a thump, "I was just chasing you down to say, 'Hello Gryffindor heir of Peverell, would you like to join me on an adventure.'"

Had he already asked Harriet… That wasn't the sort of invitation to use to get Harriet's attention. Actually it wasn't the sort of invitation Hermione would use if she was trying to get Tom's attention either.

"What's the objective?"

"Rescuing an Auror," said Tom.

"Fascinating," said Hermione, "From whom or what, and where? Also why us?"

"From the defence professor's room, because it's Luna's assignment for me over the Holidays, because you can spim us back to just after the start of the feast and we'll have three hours to enact our rescue without his interference, in addition your main wand is vine, which is notoriously good at unlocking, and your secondary is more powerful than average at everything."

Hermione blinked at that assessment of her character by way of wand wood, but pushed it aside to contemplate the time it would take to call aurors, several other things about messing with time, and … "alright, let's try." She got out her time turner.

He picked up his magic carpet, stuffed it under one arm and held out the other for her to loop the timer turner chain over. A few seconds later the sky was brighter again with the fading light of the newly set sun and the air was at least five degrees warmer, but still below freezing.

"Next question," he said, and pointed at his magic carpet, "do you want to try the window first or the door."

"I hate flying," said Hermione.

"I know," he said, "but you really should try magic carpets."

"They must be illegal for a reason."

"The reason is that they're more dangerous than broom to fly invisible. We won't be doing that. And not in the dark either, unless we take our entire three hour time window. Though I think I'm getting good enough to handle it in the dark."

"Are you good enough to handle it in the dark with me hanging on in terror and messing up your balance, also with an Auror berating you for possessing it in the first place?"

Tom blinked, "as a last resort it is," and he stuffed it into his pouch.

.

The Defence Professor's door slammed open at her third unlocking charm, (the first two were cast at minimum power, Tom had to explain that most spells could be forced to take more power than they demanded. And locking charms were notoriously cast with as much power as the wielder could manage to spare at the moment.)

At first everything but the wailing sneak-o-scopes seemed normal, and then Hermione circled the bed and saw that there were two slippers on the floor.

When she pointed them out, Tom levitated them to check the bottoms. Equal wear marks: therefore the defence professor had two feet when he got up in the night. Tom put them back and ended the spell.

"Not that I doubted Luna," shouted Tom, "but it's nice to have confirmation that something odder than broken sneak-o-scopes is going on."

They checked the storage rooms and found nothing.

"Alright," shouted Hermione, "so much for the rescue attempt, have you snooped on everything you intended."

Tom narrowed his eyes, and shook his head. He glanced around the room again and pointed to the trunk.

The trunk was bigger on the inside. It took forever for them to explore even half of it. When they got to the library, Hermione was very tempted to stop.

Probably she would have stopped, if it weren't for the facts that Tom was there too, and every third book appeared to be on destructive magics. If they hadn't had a time limit, or if Tom hadn't been there to notice her lack of control, or worse, see her tempted by books she didn't want a reputation for ever having had access to…

Instead she said, "I really need to get one of these trunks."

Tom grinned at her, "Or make one of your own?"

Hermione shrugged and grinned back. She had seen a discussion of the theory behind the space expansion charm in next year's arithmancy textbook, she hadn't been able to follow it, but she looked forward to learning enough to do so.

In the next room they found a mini field hospital and on the cot a steely haired prisoner lay bound.

Tom swore and began casting diagnostic charms.

"Is this who we're looking for?"

"Yes," said Tom, "The real Alistor Moody."

She cast an untying charm on his bonds, when that didn't work she tried the unravelling curse, which also didn't work. When she gave up and tried to untie the cords by hand she knew something was wrong, just by the texture of the knots.

"Start with the unlocking charm," said Tom.

"Oh, I forgot that the locking charm worked on knots."

Five minutes later Moody was awake and chafing his own wrists and interrogating them while sending them searching through his cabinets for the potions he wanted and his back-up prosthetic. The peg leg could not be found, neither could any of his backup wands. So Tom lent him his own wand, and the man transfigured a new prosthetic.

"What's the situation?"

"We're time turned back three hours, your doppelganger definitely doesn't leave the Yule ball—" Tom glanced at his watch, "in the next hour, but I don't know how long before he notices you missing, nor if he knows where to find a time turner."

"Does he have any allies?"

"If he's who I suspect his is, He's one of four suspected Death eaters on campus, but maintaining his cover seems to have required him to not make err … friendly contact."

"Ha!" said Moody, "Who else is here?"

"Headmaster Karkaroff, Professor Snape, Professor Bethazmaveth."

"Don't know the last."

"Don't worry about her, Longbottom and I are well on our way to corrupting her toward a more classic interpretation of Pureblood ethics. Headmaster Karkaroff has always been too smart to have any courage worth speaking of, he's always belonged in an ivory tower not in a revolution. Professor Snape, you probably know better than I."

"How do you figure?"

"He plays from the shadows, so he's not in the history books, one of his masters is Dumbledore, you have the reputation of having Dumbledore for an ally."

"Ah, your logic checks out, and explaining what's wrong with it would betray more trust than you've earned so far."

Tom shrugged, "more to the point, let's not waste time, would you like me to levitate you out, or are your dexterity and reaction time compatible with broom riding or however it is you might wish to escape from here?"

"Hmm," said the old man.

Twenty five seconds later he nodded, "Levitate me out, but first help me up."

He conjured a fake body on the cot, floated and retied the cords around its limbs again then covered it with the blanket.

"Wow," said Hermione.

"Now, let's go," said Moody and returned Tom's wand.

Once out of the trunk they made their way out of the Professor's Bedroom.

"Where to next, Professor?" said Tom.

"I'm not your professor, boy. Who are you two anyway?"

"Tom Riddle, fourth and Hermione Granger, first." said Tom, "allies of one or the other girls in Harry Potter's harem."

"I'm sure that's inaccurate somewhere," said Hermione.

"Anyway," said Tom, "If it's all the same to you, I wasn't here and didn't help, and will be surprised to learn you've been impersonated."

"Did you even give me your correct name?"

"Yes, he did," said Hermione, "He's just not … a gryffindor, doesn't mind sneaking around having adventures, he just doesn't want to be known for rescuing people."

"That's about the size of it," said Tom, "being the Hogwarts champion is a bit more reputation than I might have chosen for myself."

"Ah," said not-professor Moody, "Speaking of reputations, what does my reputation suggest I'd say where we should go next?"

"Dumbledore's office, or the nearest outgoing floo, to get to the ministry, or whatever allies you'd like to alert, or the hospital wing if you're in worse shape than my diagnostic spells could detect."

"Hmm," said Moody, "Nearest floo with privacy."

Ten minutes later he was gone and Aurors had come. And somehow Tom had disappeared before they'd arrived. And they never asked questions about how much help she'd had, they didn't even ask about Tom's activities when she directly referenced them. It made her think something was odd.

She hadn't told them about Luna's orders, because Tom hadn't told Moody about Luna's orders. Instead she used Tom's evasion that, 'it was already Yule, and it was suspicious that the defence professor hadn't done anything suspicious yet. So we'd gone to investigate."

Finally she'd lost patience and said she didn't know anything, except what Tom had told her, and what she'd seen, a pair of slippers in the defence professor's bedroom, a trunk that was bigger on the inside, not-professor copy of Moody unconscious and bound in bed.

They glanced at each other and sent her to bed, but not to leave the school until they told her otherwise, in case they had more questions.

Bed felt good after having danced late, and sculpted snow, and an adrenalin filled climb down into a cavernous trunk.

The simplest moral of the story was that it was daft not to conjure gloves, just for the sensation of brushing against other warm hands while packing snow by moonlight. And the next moral was maybe to join in with privacy requests of her own when Tom, or any of her slytherin allies or friends, noticed the need for such.

Aftermaths

"So, what creature is most symbolic of deadly loyalty, for each of you?" said Georgina Smith, "I've already heard wolves, and even specific breeds of dogs. And Horses. Elephants and Hippos and wild boars, and of course unicorns."

Hermione was still living her first pass through the afternoon, which meant she was finishing her school homework in the 4th year revising room, not doing additional reading or tutoring in the library.

"Cobras," said Draco, "don't get between them and their eggs."

"Draco, do you mean king cobras or basilisks?" said Padma.

Suddenly no one was thinking about homework.

"I was thinking king cobras," said Draco, "I heard basilisks don't lay eggs, which is why there is even anything else left on the planet."

Padma nodded, "I would have said horses, but most people have managed to forget how deadly they can be should they choose. Dogs too, I guess."

There was a murmur about all the Hogwarts riding clubs, and their activities being much more free form than the Beauxbatons riding classes, but less dangerous than the polo matches that Beauxbatons held with its nearest neighbouring muggle school.

The suggestions of nesting dragons and mother bears were also put forward, but seemed to be amalgamated into, 'mothers are deadly when roused,' which did not say anything special about the species of creature in question.

"Bleu kneazles," said a Beauxbatons girl who'd was hanging around with Zacharias Smith who'd been hanging around the 4th year tutoring room to see why Georgina preferred it to the Hufflepuff common room, "Even one of your English Queens noticed them, and picked one for her familiar."

There was some conversation about that, and about whether kneazles managed to kill anything bigger than themselves. (and whether that was a fair comparison, or if using that comparison horses and probably hippos and/or hippogriffs ought to be taken back off the list.)

"Are we worried about maximum deadliness or maximum loyalty, or a sum of the two or something more specific like the difference between their normal aggressiveness when compared to their deadliness when their loyalty rouses them from normality."

"I think I meant to be asking about the last one," said Georgina.

"Then I'm going to go with seal wives," said Blaise.

"Are those real?" said Hermione.

"What are those?" said Georgina.

To Hermione, Blaise said, "To my knowledge, Yes, Why wouldn't they be?"

Hermione's mouth opened but nothing came out.

He said soto voice, "what kind of bedtime stories did you hear, if not the useful ones?"

"Alright?" said Hermione, "What do you know about seal wives and how do you know it?"

Blaise blinked at her, "Nothing directly, I'm not stupid, they're three J beings."

"Muggles are four J beings," said Theo, "they're not that difficult to get along with."

There were several gasps from around the room.

"Yes, beings are (or were once) rated for deadliness and civilisation level," said Theo, "part of the ongoing discussion with the goblins about who should rule Europe."

"No," said Draco, "we were just surprised you had any experience with muggles, or would admit the same."

"Why wouldn't I?" said Theo.

"Never mind," said Draco.

"Moving back to the discussion," muttered Blaise to Hermione, "seal wives (or husbands) are rumoured to be a necessary … participant in the breeding of succubi."

Hermione blinked and muttered back, "Which of course you would just happen to know."

Blaise blinked back, "is there a problem?"

Hermione shook her head, "Not exactly, just … you probably should go ahead and give me a reading list of what I need to know to stay safe around your family."

"Oh," he said, "I … hadn't realised we'd gotten to that level."

"I'm not sure we have," said Hermione, "or whether I've just been reading about Magical British society in greater than useful depth and neglecting true versions of fairy tales, and who knows what else."

"Which might have given you a broader perspective but not helped you survive this long?"

Hermione shrugged.

Blaise nodded, "remedial bedtime stories… yes, I'll make up a reading list."

The rest of the conversation had moved on to: donkeys might be more loyal than horses, or it might be that they showed it better because they seemed to have less obedience for it to hide behind. Goats weren't exactly loyal, but some kinds were territorial.

Hermione poked Blaise and asked if the three goats and the bridge was true. He shrugged and said he suspected a territorial goat could defend an accustomed bridge thoroughly enough that even a troll would get the point. It might not stop defending the bridge it had claimed, but perhaps it might decide that goats weren't worth the bother. Or that a particular goat and all the hoofed creatures in the world whose gait matched it were better left alone.

Eventually Georgina left but was heard asking similar things elsewhere.

January

Lavender Brown clumped back from Hogsmeade glorying in the brightness of the snow, and the effectiveness of her fur cloak, and pufskein fur socks, now that the wind had eased off. And then she saw a familiar figure dancing down by the lake. She huffed and clumped in that direction.

.

"You blew me off for this?" she said when she arrived.

Parvati looked up, "It's not 'blowing off' if I had a prior commitment." Which was exactly what Hermione had said, she'd gone off with Parvati's twin for 'occlumency' lessons from some ravenclaw. Lavender couldn't quite figure out what that was, but it sounded like a meditation technique needed for dark arts or something.

On the other hand Parvati's 'prior commitment' appeared to be a picnic with a baby and a dog. A very little baby, though it seemed to be in some sort of cushion-lined rune-encrusted contraption that held its neck up and let it … stand. And play with a polished walking stick. So it was … artificially a toddler.

"Are you babysitting?"

"Yes," said Parvati, "sort of."

"Who's baby?"

"Neville's goddaughter, or … a client line he might buy if he inherits before it grows too large for him to afford, or something."

"What's its name?"

"The baby or the line?" said Parvati, "The baby's name is Victorix. Vicki say hello to Lavender."

"Ho," said the baby looking up from her way too big walking stick with way too big eyes.

"Who am I to greet?" translated the rune encrusted pudding cap the baby wore.

Creepy as hell.

The accent was very odd, almost as if the words had been transliterated into a foreign language and alphabet before being sounded out by … by a rune based automation actually. OK, maybe not so creepy.

Lavender leaned over and offered her hand. The baby dropped the staff and extended her hand in such a way that she almost overbalanced, but did manage to get the support rod that stuck out past her wrist, into Lavender's hand.

"Good job," said Lavender and used the support rod to tip the baby's exoskeleton back onto its feet.

"Thank you," said the pudding cap. Lavender wasn't sure if the baby was complimenting her catch or grateful of her compliment.

Parvati sighed, "I suppose I ought to invite you to stay for a muffin, but we finished the last one about ten minutes ago."

"That's alright," said Lavender, "I stuffed myself at Puddifoot's."

.

"So … how much longer do you have Vicki for?"

"About twenty minutes," said Parvati, and sighed.

"Was that a … 'I want her for longer,' sigh or an 'I'm bored with her already' sigh?" said Lavender.

"Kind of both," said Parvati, "When I have her I sometimes want to steal her away. When I don't, I'm usually glad I'm putting off these sorts of responsibilities until I have a house I have total control over and a career that I have at least partial control over."

Vicki had already crouched and retrieved the staff.

"Good point," said Lavender, "she's kind of cute, once you learn to see past the walker-crutches-thing. Is that permanent or some kind of training wheels for legs that most of us had to do without?"

"It's training wheels for legs," said Parvati, "It's supposed to let her learn balance and coordination before her metabolism and strength are up to lifting her weight, instead of after."

"Does it work?"

"She's six months old," said Parvati, "estimate for yourself."

"Do," said Vicki. "seven months," said the helmet.

Parvati looked at Vicki, "right, whatever."

"Wa!" said Vicki, "why 'whatever'?" said the helmet.

Parvati frowned, "I guess I have known you for about a month now. So, you're right, but it doesn't change the answer to Lavender's question."

Parvati turned back to Lavender, and shrugged.

Lavender looked away, and then looked at Vicki again. Vicki started and looked to the side. Threw down the staff and picked up her arms. "Da! Va Da da."

"'Daddy' Daddy, help me fly in the wind." Said the helmet.

Lavender looked over where the dog had been, but Neville was crouched there, in the process of standing up.

He quickly took up the baby and went dancing and twirling through the snow.

"Um?" said Lavender. She was surprised he didn't trip over his own feet. It was Neville after all. And in snow boots.

But he seemed as completely at ease twirling in the snow as Parvati had been just minutes before.

"OK, then," said Lavender, "where did he come from?"

She glanced around for footprints and realized: A) she couldn't differentiate Neville's boot prints from Parvati's boot prints, or not without getting up and looking closer, and B) the snow was extremely trampled in several places nearby. And C) the smaller trample patterns showed … check marks and sweeps of … staff marks.

"He's been here the whole time," said Parvati, "Didn't you see him when you came up?"

"No," said Lavender and stood up to get a better look. Yes, definitely staff marks. But the only obvious trail coming down from the castle were … a horse and a dog. So either someone from Durmstrang stopped by to comment on their staff practice, or … but there was no additional trail leading away from the picnic to the Durmstrang ship, or anywhere else.

"Parvati, have you been holding out on me?"

"What?" said Parvati, "Not intentionally."

"Are you an animagus?"

"Yes," said Parvati, "a black war horse."

"Like a Frisian?" said Lavender, "And Neville is a big dog?"

"Yes," said Parvati, "Except it's an Indian breed, not a Danish breed. Neville is a German Mastiff. And yes, we're already registered, it was kind of a fun ceremony, I forget that doesn't automatically inform all my friends."

"Oh," said Lavender, "When?"

"Near the beginning of the summer hols," said Parvati.

"So who was there?

"Neville's parents, my parents, Hermione's Parents."

"Hermione too?"

"Yes."

"What is she?"

"Ask her yourself."

"Alright," said Lavender.

The silence stretched a moment. "Why?"

"It's a great accomplishment," said Parvati, "not a gossip topic. I'd hate to ruin a very justified chance for her to brag."

"Oh," said Lavender, "Oh, I see. How long did it take?"

"We started learning last November or so, I had to take breaks sometimes because of revising and clubs, but I learned it, eventually."

"May I see?"

"Hmm," said Parvati standing up, "alright." She changed, somehow it seemed as natural as changing posture. Then she bounded away and dashed around Neville and Vicki. Vicki pointed so Neville picked her up again. And spun her around again. Much faster this time so that Vicki could watch Parvati over Neville's shoulders.

Vicki waved her arms and exclaimed something, but the helmet's translation was lost in the distance and hoof-beats and snow-rustle.

Neville nodded, then lost his grip, and Vicki flipped around until she was dangling out horizontally, held only by one rod of her support structure. Neville's other hand sought for a purchase on the piece he still held. And then he had her. But he didn't slow down, in fact maybe he sped up again, it was hard to tell. Was he fighting for his balance and not wanting to change his foot rythem until he had it again?

He pushed her down, and it took Lavender a moment to realise that spinning like that wanted Neville's arms out straight with gravity pulling down a bit against momentum, and pushing down farther than that should be as difficult as lifting up farther than that.

And then Neville yanked her in, but he didn't manage to catch the other side of her walking brace. In fact she went over his shoulder and he let go with his other hand too. And she went flying.

Neville is never baby-sitting my kids. Thought Lavender, At least there's snow to land in, though that might not be good enough at that speed.

But Parvati was in the way, and had changed direction at the right moment so her speed matched Vicki's flight, and the descent of her gallop was almost the same as the descent of Vicki's arc, and Vicki held on, and Parvati galloped away.

Neville had thrown her on purpose. And Parvati had caught her on her back, while running. And that was totally irresponsible.

Neither of them are ever baby-sitting my kids.

Parvati galloped straight for several seconds more, then slowed drastically before circling around and coming back. In spite of Vicki's repeated demands for her to 'go fast.'

Neville saw she was heading for the picnic blanket and headed there himself.

Lavender lost all sense of place and started swearing demands at him with muggle terminology.

Neville shrugged, he'd never had much to say to her. Parvati is the one who'd play translating helmet, whenever she got good and ready.

Lavender huffed. Neville took Vicki off Parvati's back and lay down and returned to breathing hard.

Parvati resumed her human shape and sat down also.

"Please tell me why I shouldn't report both of you for negligent endangerment or something?"

"First of all," said Neville, "you should take the fact that Victorix is fine and happy as evidence that we knew what we were doing."

"Yeah, but…" said Lavender.

"Second of all, it was consentual," said Neville, "Vicki, did you ask me to throw you?"

"Yeh, to gin," said Vicki, "Yes, throw me again!" a pause, "again-again-again."

"Not yet," said Neville, "let me catch my breath."

"Merlin," said Lavender, "my parents would spin us or throw us, but not both at once, and not until four or five."

"Right," said Neville and shrugged.

"If it makes you feel better," said Parvati, "the harness detects ballistic flight and turns on extra cushion charms and extra sticking charms until it decides the fall is over and that the sticking charms aren't what's holding her up."

"What the hell is ballistic flight, anyway."

"Unpowered flight," said Parvati, "falling in other words, even if you're still going up, or just finished jumping or getting thrown, or whatever."

"Oh," said Lavender, "Then why not say that?"

"Because that's not how the human brain works, even if it is how falling really works," said Parvati, "it's hard to think of 'falling' as anything but the going down at the end of a jump or a drop, but really it's everything from the moment you stop having something push you up."

"Hello Padma, where did you put Parvati," said Lavender.

Parvati scowled at her, "I'm a fourth year, I can use my brain if I want, especially if it's about fashion and acrobatics."

"Right," said Lavender, "I … I'm sorry I forget those are … parts of a whole for you. Speaking of, Did I show you my new cloak?"

"Yes, you did," said Parvati, "I take it from the fact you're still outside that it works better than the last."

"Much better, yes," said Lavender and smiled.

"Where did you get it?"

Lavender smirked and preened, "Still not telling."

"Alright, whatever."

"The boy who took her to the ball, gave it to her," said Neville.

Lavender's face went hot.

"Or sold it to her," said Neville, "not sure which."

Lavender pulled it closer around her, "It was very thoughtful."

"It was very expensive," said Neville, "Blaise has one too."

Parvati and Lavender both gaped at him, fish mouth style.

Neville shrugged.

"How do you know all that?" said Lavender.

"Draco wants one, but spent his money on books instead."

"And?" said Parvati.

Neville shrugged again, "Draco talks a lot, even if he didn't say any of that straight out."

"No, I can't imagine that he would," said Parvati.

Neville shrugged again, Vicki leaned over to look at him and toppled over on him.

"Mmm," purred Neville, "I love you too, Vicki."

Parvati flinched.

"But your harness is just about the boniest thing ever," Neville re-arranged Vicki into a sitting posture on his chest, "There, that's better."

Vicki agreed and stared down into his face.

Neville glanced between Vicki and Parvati, "I'm here, Parvati. Right here."

"Is that code for something?" said Lavender.

Parvati leaned over and whispered, "It's code for he hasn't proposed yet, because he thinks I don't want him to, yet."

"Oh," said Lavender.

Neville flinched and stared fixedly at Vicki.

"Is he right?"

"Go away," said Parvati. In the tone she usually used to mean, 'Lavender, stop bullying Neville.' Or 'Hermione, Stop nagging Lavender.'

"Sorry," said Lavender. For several seconds she thought about running around Gryffindor spreading word of their new level of intimacy, except there wasn't a clear word or category in her mind what they'd been before, and what she thought they might be now. So that would merely be very redundant and confusing for everyone who heard her trying to explain. So never mind.

After a second she said, "if either of you ever change your mind about that, I expect to be told, not read about it in the newspaper or the bulletin board at the Ministry."

"What bulletin board at the ministry?" said Parvati.

"About all the things the ancient houses get up to, I assume it's actually mythical, but…"

"It's not," sighed Neville, "It's in the pureblood registry office. And it's all pureblood houses, not just ancient houses. And it's not everything we get up to, it's just births, deaths, betrothals, marriages, adoptions, and sponsorships."

"What's … Oh," said Lavender.

"How about it, Vicki," said Neville, "has your Head of House claimed you properly."

Parvati flinched.

"Vieoucinavaceeeoucel," cooed Vicki.

"Our house does not have a face or hands or anything," said the helmet, "but house elves are helpful, did you mean a house elf? A house elf named," static, "helps me when Ummah is gone."

"Fair enough," said Neville, "I'll explain to you about houses with heads when you're six."

"Do!" said Vicki. "I'm seven."

"You're seven months," said Neville, "I'm talking about six years."

"Whu," said Vicki.

"Years are twelve months long," explained Neville over the noise of her helmet, "Each one is twice as long as six months."

"Wuwhy," said Vicki.

"Months are how long it takes the moon to get big and bright and round then dark and little," said Neville, "Years are how long it takes the weather to get from cold and snowy, all the way to hot hot summer, and back to cold and snowy winter again."

"Grah!" said Vicki and launched herself off Neville's chest off into the snow.

"Fair enough," said Neville.

"I like snow!" said the helmet, "especially the feeling of squishing it with my hands or my chest or my teeth."

"Merlin," said Lavender, "I can't tell if that helmet is a blessing or a curse."

Parvati laughed.

A house elf popped up, "You is not brought her back on time, mistress will be furious!"

"We're sorry," said Parvati, "would you like to take her back right now, or do you want us to bring her back and be late so your mistress can yell at us personally instead of at you?"

The house elf seemed surprised and flustered to be offered the decision.

"Grosyebleu," said Neville, "can you carry her when you pop back?"

"No," wailed the house elf, "she isn't letting me pop. She is preferring riding slow way."

"Then I'll have to carry her," said Neville, "I can go fastest in the corridors."

"Right," said Parvati and ran to collect Vicki from her momentary obsession with eating snow.

"What's all this?" said Lavender.

But Neville was already a huge mottled dog again, with saddlebags on his shoulders. An instant later Vicki was in one of the saddle bags, and the German mastiff was streaking over the ground … up the hill to the Beaubattons coach. And the house elf was gone.

"Merlin, he's fast," said Lavender. Realising that she'd stopped breathing and stood up at some point for a better view.

"I can go faster on a straight away, once I get up to speed," said Parvati, "but he can corner faster and use stairs at all."

Parvati drew her wand and levitated all the picnic things into her belt pouch.

"Anyway," said Parvati, and set her face toward the castle.

Lavender followed her, "so do you think I could be an animagus?"

"Are you ready to work at least as hard on it as you do on makeup and hair potions and school work put together?"

"Maybe," said Lavender.

"And it's mostly slow boring meditations, not five minutes of this recipe, and giving up and trying another."

"No good potions take less than twenty minutes," said Lavender, "except diluting vinegar, which doesn't count unless you consider vinegar a potion all by itself, in which case it takes months all by itself."

"Hmm," said Parvati.

"And … potions … not the recipe inventing part, but the making part, is … has, an aspect to it that I always assumed was part of what meditation would be about, if I ever tried it."

"You're not wrong," said Parvati, "Which might be why I'm poor at both."

"But you managed," said Lavender, "and you're not failing potions."

Parvati sighed, "No, I'm not, which is partly thanks to you."

"Hmm, oh, you're welcome," said Lavender.

They navigated a steeper bit of hill, which was odd in the snow. Not steep or slippery enough to count as 'treacherous,' or 'dramatic' but it wasn't plain snow trudging.

"What is the part that isn't thanks to me?" said Lavender.

"Lots and lots of reading, and submitting to Hermione and Padma looking over my revisions and explaining what I seem not to have understood."

"Right," said Lavender, "Hermione's reliability at correcting misconceptions is extremely useful, at times."

At non-gossip-related times, in other words.

.

Second Task

The morning of the second task dawned just overcast enough to not be bitterly cold, by the end of breakfast enough blue sky showed, that the smart money among the Hogwarts weather watchers club to be on 'clear by 1:00 pm, probably by noon.'

But that would be later in the day, the event took place mid-morning.

.

Fleur was not happy. Veela were creatures of summer and air, not of water, and definitely not of winter. If she didn't know better she'd assume this task was designed solely to take her out of the competition. But there were either three or four tasks and five schools, and no one would reasonably have invested enough political capitol to design a task that would only differentiate one school's champion from all the others. And in a bad way.

Unless they were all just that concerned about the threat she posed.

Besides the clue had definitely implied the task would be underground not underwater. This was insane. Even if it hadn't been February it would still be insane.

Clearly whatever the original venue had been, it had fallen through. Though that was also obvious from the clue being in mermish.

And repeating all her angry worries was not helping her get ready.

She could do this, somewhere between 5/8s to 7/8s of her heritage was not veela and she should be able to handle the water just fine. Even if it wasn't comfortable.

She started turning on the permanent heating charms she'd embroidered into her tuilik. She was wearing nothing but her ankle length swim gear and shoes and a heavy fur coat.

The whistle blew and she doffed her coat and shoes. Meanwhile she kept an eye on the others. All three boys transfigured themselves and dove in. Two dragons and one shark. The shark probably had the advantage because it could breathe underwater. But the dragons might be more comfortable in water this cold, some dragons didn't mind reasonable amounts of cold. She was less sure about the shark, there were sharks for all climactic zones.

Anoushka ran to the end of the dock and flicked her wand, sending a spell she didn't recognise into the water that froze it several inches thick, a few flicks from side to side and the mini icepack was wide enough for her to climb on and conjure a mast and sail. Of course she'd thought of taking advantage of the cold instead of mitigating it.

By the time Fleur had cast her bubble-head charm and entered the water Anoushka's improvised craft was well away under a very localised wind storm. And the wind was whipping up the tails of her cloak enough to show bare legs. Probably her endgame looked the same as Fleur's, but her early game already had her dozens of yards ahead.

Fleur's moral sunk another notch. She'd been pleased enough that she'd even come up with a plan that had a chance of completing the task, she doubted whether she could get to her stolen object in time, let alone before her fellow contestants would find theirs.

She swam in the general direction of the centre of the lake and began casting the four points charm at intervals . At least with her bubble-head charm and heating charms she could last in the water indefinitely and she had full use of her magic. She'd tried to use her tutor's suggestion that an overpowered water-conjure charm could propel her, but mostly it just got her hopelessly disoriented.

.

Gabriel Delacour blinked awake to find herself freezing and bound and underwater and surrounded by two dragons. And circled around and watching them were scores and scores of merfolk. She would have panicked, except she was too surprised to decide which things were more startling and which actually deserved her time and attention to panic over.

She seemed to be part of a circle of others people also bound and one of the dragons seemed to be using a wand to put bubbles of air in front of the faces of each captive. Which seemed to wake them for some reason. He must have done hers second. When he got back around to the lady he'd started with, he began to very carefully cast something to cut the seaweed that held her in place.

The other dragon was doing the same with another boy, or maybe girl. Gabriel couldn't tell. What she could tell was that the other captive was as small as herself. And not panicking, in fact she seemed to know her dragon and was looking like she was more interested in hugging the dragon that was getting her free than she was in anything else. Then it had her free, or maybe she'd freed herself, it was hard to tell, and she walked up its arm and onto its back as if she were a squirrel or gecko and the dragon were merely a big rock.

Really this was the oddest dream, she'd thought it would be a nightmare soon but— No don't think of that. Instead it was turning out merely surreal. Maybe she'd kicked off the covers and gotten cold?

So were there three more dragon's coming for the rest of them?

A shark swam up. Except it wasn't a shark. It was also partly a wizard and soon it was entirely a wizard. He worked to free the middle sized girl whose hair seemed even bushier than Fleur's when in the middle of a lightning trance.

The other little boy got tired of waiting and turned into a snake. The bubble of air still clung to his head but not very well. He slither-swam out of his bonds and looked around. After a moment he came over and began gnawing on Gabriel's bonds. He wasn't as good at swimming as he was at slithering, and he might be even worse at gnawing.

Still it was nice of him, even if it made her rather nervous. She knew enough about dreams to know some of the things that some snake species stood for. She shied away from that thought too. Though this one didn't seem to be any of those species or mythological symbols.

The dragons and shark saw that she was the last and being taken care of, and they all swam away taking their rescued prisoners with them. The dragon with the gecko girl swam fastest, the others had to go slow enough for their freed captives to hold on.

What did it all mean?

The snake got one of Gabriel's hands free and she started tearing at the seaweed around her other wrist. The snake seemed to lose his panicked hurry and turned into a boy again. The merpeople started approaching, seeming to plan to tie him up again, probably her as well. He went to try to hold them off. She redoubled her efforts.

She didn't see what happened but he returned with one of their knives and got her feet free. There was blood in the water. She didn't think it was her own. But if the merpeople decided on revenge …

The boy said something that was garbled by the water, but she understood his gesture towards the surface. They swam up as fast as they could, which seemed to take forever. They must be very very deep.

A girl carrying a cannonball came down. When she saw the boy she dropped the cannonball and took his wrist and drew a wand. He tried to tell her something, something about Gabriel. She shook her head, but rather than be dragged off he took Gabriel's wrist.

The witch shrugged and conjured a balloon which had straps, which tied themselves to a harness that she'd already had around her body. Soon she'd filled the balloon with steam and the three of them rose quickly and climbed out onto a little iceberg that was conveniently nearby. That had to be symbolic of something. Suppressed strengths and power? A need to dig deeper to find the truth? But did it still mean that when approached from below? Or maybe just something about how cold she was.

The big girl cast drying charms on all of them and conjured blankets for them to sit on, that helped a lot. Blankets were protection, obviously, except when they were stifling protection, but these were rather welcome, so far.

Then the big girl put on her big cloak and made a big wind and sent it into the sail.

The iceberg had a sail. That also had to be symbolic of something. Already in control, smooth sailing. Advantageous prospects, perhaps already within grasp.

Now that they were above the water they were speaking in Latin. That might mean something. Something related to old wizards or scholarly pursuits. But they were both young. She didn't think the boy was even as old as Fleur. Actually, she didn't think the woman was as old as Fleur. The boy might be the same age as Gabriel. She tried to remember enough Latin to not sound idiotic, "So, are one of you supposed to be my dragon?"

"What?" they both looked at her.

"Are you part veela?" said the boy who was also a snake.

"Yes," she said.

"Did the water affect you too much?" said the woman with concern.

"What?"

"You just asked something that didn't make sense," said the woman, "I'm trying to decide if you don't like Romanian, or if you don't like cold water."

"I don't like either," said Gabriel.

"I think she meant which of us is the contestant that is supposed to be rescuing her," said the boy, "Tom and Dietrich got to us first and both of them were in dragon form at the time."

"Oh," said the woman, "that would be a hell of a scene to wake up to."

"You mean this isn't a dream?" said Gabriel and tried to conjure the willpower to pinch herself. It wasn't hard, and moving her arm wasn't hard, and pinching herself wasn't hard, and the pain was not wildly delayed or ahead of schedule.

She wasn't dreaming.

The woman frowned, "Do you have a way of alerting Fleur that we have her captive up here?"

"No," said the boy, "Harriet could send a patronus."

"Fleur is my dragon?" said Gabriel.

"Yes, she was meant to be," said the boy, "Though I haven't heard that she has a dragon form."

"Oh," said Gabriel. Fleur would have a bird or insect form, if she ever found it, just like all veela.

The woman sighed, "Lisjonok, I'm blaming you for bringing her up. I suspect that we weren't supposed to steal another contestant's captive."

"OK, whatever," said the snake boy, "I didn't realise this was the second task until you showed up, and by that time I'd already gotten her loose." He swallowed hard and touched the lump above his belt where he'd hidden the knife he'd taken.

Gabriel wondered how badly he'd hurt the merman he'd gotten it from. The shark hadn't come back… but it hadn't been a real shark. Did real sharks eat merpeople? What if they were bleeding?

The woman's gaze shifted up to the horizon. Gabriel looked in that direction, their iceberg was quickly approaching the edge of the water, and not a tenth of a kilometre beyond were crowded stands of onlookers watching them approach.

Their iceberg ground to a halt and two witches in healer uniforms ran quickly up to them. The snake boy pointed the older woman to Gabriel. The healer sent diagnostic charms at her and offered her pepper-up and chocolate and something that Gabriel knew was for fevers. She accepted the pepper-up and began on the chocolate. Once she felt like herself she asked if the healer really thought she was feverish. The healer cast another diagnosis charm on her and said she'd be fine very soon.

Meanwhile the little healer had offered her two rescuers pepper-up and asked if they were hurt at all. They said 'no,' then clamoured for her to send a patronus to Fleur to tell her that they'd rescued her captive also in the confusion.

The healer frowned at this, but complied.

And by that time the two dragons were arriving, the huge one with the woman riding, apparently they'd conjured rope to bind themselves together and then gone faster than the other, and the medium one with the tiny girl clinging to his back.

They brought their riders up to the healers and helped them down. And then turned into young wizards not much older than Gabriel's own iceberg riding witch.

"This made so much more sense as a dream," said Gabriel.

The snake boy laughed.

The little healer glared at him for a second then returned to offering pepper-up to the newly arrived dragon wizards and their riders.

Soon they were all casting drying charms and warming charms on each other and laughing and joking. Gabriel's English couldn't keep up with a quarter of it.

Fleur climbed out of the water and rushed to hug her. "I didn't have any idea that they'd stole you," she said, "it is most despicable. They said that they would steal a treasured thing, not a treasured person. It is not right."

So Fleur treasured her. That was good, Gabriel didn't think Fleur treasured any things, well except her wand. But treasured people, Fleur had a few of those. Not as many as Gabriel, which was sad, actually.

After a while Fleur realised that they were offering her pepper-up and demanding to know if she needed any healing beyond that.

.

"I haven't heard anyone's score," said the snake boy after an interval.

"I think," said one of the dragon wizards, "that we are boycotting the judges because of how annoyed we are at the way this task was handled. The scores will be posted in the usual places and we can check them tomorrow. Right now we are pretending that we only care that everyone is safe, and no one has lost their life or magic from being unable to survive or compete in such a stupid situation."

"Oh, I see," said the snake boy. "I suppose I can manufacture that much patience … if I change to an animal that doesn't mind having bare feet."

The wizard shrugged, the boy turned into a fox and darted away. The girl who'd pulled them up to her iceberg shewed him away and he returned to the little healer who sighed and picked him up to drape about her neck. He snuggled. And from the way the healer winced, Gabriel was almost certain that he'd dug his freezing paws into her neck. But she didn't seem to mind somehow. Maybe having a warm fox fur on the rest of her neck was compensation enough?

But … did she think it odd to have a boy draped around her neck, even if he was fox shaped at the moment? Would she mind differently if he'd been in snake form.

Did she mind that Fleur was meant to be her dragon. Could Fleur even be a dragon. Why …

This was all easier to deal with when it was a dream.

Fleur returned, with the healer and demanded that the healer look Gabriel over again.

That was fine, just Fleur trying to be responsible, since she seemed to be the only adult around who Gabriel could even pretend to be attached to.

The healer told Fleur to find her warmer clothes or get her out of the wind. Fleur conjured her a huge fur cloak with a nice almost tight hood. At least it cut the wind. The healer nodded in approval and wandered away.

Fleur relaxed and turned back to her, "Are you alright?"

Gabriel shrugged, "So … you can't turn into a dragon?"

"No," said Fleur, "And apparently I've missed my one chance in life to learn how for free." Not disappointment, anger.

"Oh," said Gabriel and shivered and it had nothing to do with the cold, "I still think this qualifies as my weirdest dream somehow, even if it's not a dream."

Fleur looked concerned, "Are you alright? What do you need?"

"I think, I'd like to look around and see where it is that you've been having your contest," said Gabriel, "But … I think I'd rather go home and wake up normally, and travel here normally, while awake, not while asleep and wake up underwater or anything odd."

Fleur looked more concerned, "Do you think you were brought here drugged? Or just led here, 'normally,' as you say, then put under a sleep spell?"

"I don't know of a potion to make someone sleep until they touch air," said Gabriel, "Being under two different sleep potions sounds dangerous anyway. Do you think it was a memory charm?"

Fleur frowned, "they just needed you to be still and safe until you got rescued, there would be no reason for a memory charm."

"I certainly don't remember being brought here or given a potion either."

Fleur's frown deepened, "wait here a moment."

She went and found the dragon wizard, the one who rescued the woman, or oldest girl, whatever. "Tom, Glenda, this is my sister Gabriel, Gabriel, this is Tom and Glenda. Besides Tom being a very powerful contestant, the two of them …" Fleur frowned, "tell them what you remember. You two, listen and help me figure out how the kidnapping was done and whether someone should be in jail."

Gabriel explained going to sleep in her own bed and waking up under the lake, and no memories in between.

Tom asked if anyone had asked her if she'd like to travel to Hogwarts to see her sister. A friend had, weeks ago, but no adults had.

Tom asked Glenda if her experience had been any different, She said no, but that she'd had to sign something to participate in the yule ball, which she'd noticed being oddly comprehensive at the time, and that it would cover this. In fact she'd expected it might in fact cover this from the moment she'd overheard a bit of the contents of the egg riddle. It sounded just like the closely reasoned nonsense that an adult in a dream would say.

Tom cleared his throat, "Miss Delacour, Is your primary interest, 'the method,' or an ethics debate about whether it was permissible, or an investigation into who and why it wasn't handled much better."

'Ethics' and 'investigation' on the other hand were words that Gabriel knew.

"Maybe all three," said Fleur.

He nodded gravely, "Do you mind if I bring in two legislates that I trust?"

Fleur shrugged, "anyone I know?"

He said two names but they weren't familiar, and were too long to remember in the crazy accent. He flicked his wand twice and two silver balls sped up hill toward the stands, though one turned aside and hurried up the path toward the castle. A few minutes later two rather imposing old women were hovering over her and urging all of them to go up into the castle to get warm and eat lunch.

Which wasn't a bad idea at all.

.

Letter

On the way to class Kisa ran up and passed Harriet an unmarked, unsealed envelope, before running on. Later in history class she had a chance to read it.

.

Dear Harry Potter and Luna Lovegood,

Care of: Harriet Matirni,

I'm wanting to start out asking why none of you told me Luna's family name, leaving me to ask around? I'm mainly writing to say that I've been watching everything that's been happening with the Delacours since the lake race. Anoushka explained to me how the other captives had been chosen. I now have to agree with all Luna's predictions. There are reasons I would have responded to waking up bound and in the lake much much worse than any of the others seem to have. Anoushka it seems would have gotten to me in plenty of time, but we're still not sure if her ideas for rescue would have worked out. Having Moit in that position seems to have been for the best.

Fleur's crusade about 'her sister's abduction' is getting her and Anoushka and Moit a lot of positive press and chances to meet important people. If it were me, Anoushka would be too busy dealing either with losing me (and feeling responsible about that) or with my problems, to be able to work on making the positive changes that she and Fleur and all her allies are pushing for now.

Do the school officials and judges know that you're rigging their game? Do they care? Can they or are they doing anything about it?

What is your end game? How much does it involve Anoushka and I? I begin to suspect that this contest must be only a small part of it.

Anoushka won't ask for herself, but I am asking. Is there specific areas that I should help her concentrate her revising for the third task?

The good kitten,

.

"Oh, my goodness," muttered Harriet and slipped the letter away again before anyone caught her not listening to Professor de'Porpington. His classes were much easier to concentrate on than Professor Binns, and he wasn't afraid to refer back to the lesson plan after a bunny trail to get back on track.

"What's up?" whispered Blaise.

"Someone caught me playing chess with their lives and said, 'good job so far with keeping me out of that skirmish, who's winning? How big is the part of the board you're playing for? How many moves ahead are you looking? What should I be preparing for?'"

"Nice, so I take it that he is lieutenant material," said Blaise.

"Probably," said Harriet, "but she already belongs to someone else. So probably more of an ambassador really."

"Those are also good to have," said Blaise, "congratulations. How are you going to answer her, by the way? 'What board are you playing for? How many moves ahead are you looking?' Also: what do you see happening that I haven't yet? How are you preparing?'"

"I'm playing for … the local group," said Harriet, "Luna does my looking ahead for me, so you'd have to ask her that. I'm preparing by learning everything I can and making as many friends as I can, and keeping them safe, happy, and productive enough that they can still be willing and interested in being engaged. There seem to me to be two kinds of people who change politics, unhappy people with nothing to lose will tear a system down. And happy, wealthy people, have the leisure to contemplate how the system can be made better, and build it up."

"The difference between revolution and evolution?"

"Perhaps."

"So you're rooting for Tom to the exclusion of your brother? Or you're rooting for all five schools against some other group?"

"What?"

"Local group?"

"It's actually a … muggle astronomy term," said Harriet, "and I was sort of exaggerating, never mind. Yes, I'm rooting for all the contestants to not die or worse."

"What is this 'worse' you're worried about?"

Harriet shrugged, "there are lots of things worse, going through life maimed, if it helps you, might not be so bad, Professor Moody for instance. Compare that to going through life and every time you look in a mirror thinking, 'that stupid contest, why did I ever join, I could have had the career I wanted instead of this huge scar.'"

"Hmm," said Blaise, "Everything is a trade off, most everything is a risk. It's just a question of choosing which risks are worth which things and making sure you're moving toward your real goals."

"Exactly," said Harriet, "and physical scars are one thing, reputation and emotional scars can last a lifetime as well. And they can be harder to live with."

"True," said Blaise.

.

Later when she had a bit of free time she drafted a bit of a letter and showed both to Luna. Luna suggested she was sharing too much slytherin strategy / goal points and not enough Hufflepuff goal dreams. This is what they ended up with:

.

Dear Kisa and possibly Anoushka,

We are all glad we were each able to help you both. Harry also says, 'Thank you again for the dances.'

I'm sorry about the names thing, to some of us, Luna is so singular a creature that it doesn't seem to enter the mind that mentioning her origin would explain matters any better.

I doubt the judges suspect much of what's going on. But they are school administrators, of course they suspect school children will crib, but whether that means 'learning from your friends instead-of or in-addition-to your teacher' or whether than means 'copying from your friends in an attempt to skip learning anything' will be a choice that each cribbing student must make. At another level: the stated purpose of this contest is increased international cooperation. And our impressions seem to be that having all the seventh year students taking classes and revising together, (and their apprentices / companions / arms men / servants also meeting and mingling and learning) will be a huge step toward that goal, whether the tournament draws a crowd or whether one's own champion manages to take home the gold.

I think that they approve, perhaps with a bit of reservations that the champions are also doing some revising together, though perhaps we're seeing a lot more of that then they planned for.

The best of luck with the Delacours' case, and with the upcoming trial.

Anoushka should read about the unforgivable curses and how to defend against or avoid each, and how to recognise and overcome the confundus and imperious. She should practice navigating blind, and also navigating dizzy, luckily not both at once. Luna says that 'if the two of you need more time every day to read there is a extra hourglass necklace kept draped over the statue in the ravenclaw dorms, she should feel free to borrow it, but to always put it back as soon after she borrows it as possible.'

As to our end game, imagine this: You are an extremely powerful and ultra benevolent drakkin or vampire from the far future or from one of the mountain refuges of the former gods or from one of the globes that satellite the stars, and you arrived on earth knowing that this planet is inhabited by powerful beings capable not just of wielding magic but also enchanting powerful objects. In fact you knew this before you left home to spend months or years of time in the travelling all that way.

What sort of advanced, wealthy, and benevolent society would you hope to find upon your arrival? How would you expect to be received? And how would you respond?

When I imagine it: The best possible response I can imagine is of course that the beings you meet are so much like yourself (or in advance of you) that you fit in and they can't believe that you are not one of themselves. The worst possibility is that they cannot take their minds off their feuding long enough to offer you a greeting before they kill you 'just in case you are an agent of the enemy' There are some intermediate cases of course: How good would the races of earth need to be before you could comprehend their society enough to lend your aid? How complex and cruel would it have to be before you would decide that it was not worth your time and turn around and leave? How evil would it need to be before you decided that the ultimately benevolent thing to do would be to sanitise the biosphere, cleanse the planet's opesflumina, just to be safe, and begin repopulating with a garden and gardeners of your own devising?"

You are correct, this contest was not an important part of our plans. Luna saw its possibility but felt herself bound by the rules of how her magic interacts with time, and the tournament's own secrecy clauses not to talk about it too early, but she gave it as much planning as she gives other similar things until they pass or again become improbable enough to ignore.

My end game is not to be 'master of the world' like some kind of demented dark lord, my end game is not for 'humans (or even just my nation or my race) to rise up and become gods', like several recent philosophers have demanded. My goal is that we become a society such that if some otherwise disinterested gods or angels happen to visit they will take us seriously, and hopefully stay to help, or failing that, that we are all cooperating well enough that should they choose one of our races to pull up to their level, that race will not think twice before sharing the new wisdom with the rest of us.

We want you to feel welcome to write Luna any time you want advice, but be aware that so far her gift is most useful face to face. Perhaps someday that will change.

~Harry, Luna, and Harriet

{End Chapter 9}