Punch.

Front kick, roundhouse kick, punch.

"That arrogant, self-centered…"

Spinning back-kick, jab.

"Overbearing, undeserving…"

Knife-hand block, jumping front kick.

"Greasy haired, megalomanaical… GIT!"

Marian glanced at the clock ticking quietly in the corner of her room. She'd been practicing for the better part of an hour, she was drenched in sweat, and she was still pissed off.

At least she had her finger back.

"Damn Dumbledore and his lemon drops anyway," she muttered. The memory of her meeting with the Headmaster that morning still rankled, making her wish she had a punching bag. Some contact with her kicks and punches would make them more effective.

The Headmaster had been entirely too cheerful when she skulked into his office after breakfast. While he " understood that Professor Snape had the singular ability to try the patience of even the calmest people" he insisted "that such infantile displays of temper on both your parts are to be avoided in future", lest he "be forced to find an alternate means of impressing my point on the both of you". Those words, coupled with his cheery disposition and sparkling eyes, made her nervous.

Very, very nervous.

In the end, she found herself defending her right to lambaste Snape with the only expression she could think of. "He started it."

Dumbledore smiled. "That's odd, because Severus was quite certain that the blame was entirely on you."

"He would be."

The old wizard sighed, making him look like a grandfather forced to settle an argument between two children. "Be that as it may, Mariam. If the two of you cannot control your tempers while in public I will be forced, quite reluctantly I assure you, to find ways of making sure you do not sink to the depths you reached last night again."

That was when he gave her a look that must have been perfected over the years on generations of unsuspecting children. An over the glasses, piercing look that made her feel like a five year old caught in a muddy shift with stolen candy.

Shaking herself free of her thoughts she looked at the smaller clock on her dresser. The hand was edging on 'potions class', which meant she had just enough time to have a cat-bath and rush to class.

Severus glared at the back of the woman's head as she exited the class, caught up in a stream of second year Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, all of which seemed to be talking to her at once. When the door to his class finally slammed shut he heaved a sigh of relief. There. He'd made it. He'd gone through an entire class period without saying a single word to the woman.

Dumbledore would be so pleased.

"Damn the man and his sherbert lemons anyway," he sighed to the empty classroom. The Headmaster was suitably irritated with him during their meeting, insisting that Snape show "the restraint and decorum" that he was so well known for when it came to his newest pain in the arse. As it was, he barely managed to restrain himself from choking the woman when she raised her hand and had the nerve to correct his pronunciation while he lectured the class on the many uses for several different Asian plants. He'd wanted to choke her even more when he realized that she was right, he had mispronounced sakura.

It wasn't as if he spoke Japanese on a regular basis.

"Damnable, insufferable, irritating…"

"I would hope you're not thinking about me, Severus."

The dark-haired man turned around calmly, far too used to Albus's penchant for sneaking up on people for it to have much affect on him. The first few months of his teaching career had seen him nearly climbing up the walls every time the Headmaster decided to pop up unexpectedly.

"Not at all, Headmaster." Severus turned around and headed for his office.

"Good then. I see you survived class with Ms. Elvbow. I trust that it wasn't too taxing?"
No matter what he said, Albus would make it sound less horrible than it actually had been. "Nothing too strenuous, Albus."

"Excellent!" Dumbledore walked over to the potion's master and lowered his voice. "It seems I have something rather pressing for you, something that I fear will put you in close contact with Ms. Elvbow for a small amount of time."

Snape stilled. "Yes, Headmaster?"

"I find it necessary to know the lady's pedigree, Severus. We need to know who she is, and why her parents found it necessary to drop her in the middle of Muggle nowhere. I've studied the information you, Harry, and Hermione gathered, but it isn't enough. I trust you know what I'm asking of you?"

Severus nodded. There were several potions that could reveal the parentage of a given person, some that could even trace the lineage back through generations. They were rare, and difficult to make. "Will you be wanting retego atavus, then?"

"I understand it will take some time to make."

Snape waved a hand absently. "Nearly a month of constant brewing, and another of waiting for the potion to mature."

"Two months it is then." Dumbledore turned, his festive orange and burnished cooper robes swirling around him. "That is, if it won't interfere too terrible with your schedule?"

Severus made a noncommittal noise, lost in his own thoughts. He was already cataloguing the ingredients he'd need. He had a good supply of dragon's blood, moon flowers, yew and amethyst on hand. Other ingredients, such as mandrake and sunsflower he could get from Madam Sprout. Then there was coaxix root, unicorn hair, and any number of other ingredients he'd have to make several trips into Diaggon for.

"As you will no doubt be needing your spare time for this, I will take over Ms. Elvbow's potions lessons. I understand she is a bright student, and it shouldn't be too hard."

That broke Severus from his thoughts. "You, Headmaster?"

Albus's eyes twinkled in the half light. "Yes, Severus. I am more than capable of teaching a second year course to a fully grown woman."

Internally Snape shivered. Despite the fact that Albus actually was more than capable of tutoring the woman, his idea of proper potions would likely be making ice-cream that would make the eater float, or some other such nonsense. "As you wish, Headmaster."

Dumbledore turned and headed for the door.

Marian blinked at the village that was spread out before her. When Harry had found her an hour ago and begged her to go with them to Hogsmeade, she hadn't known what to expect. Even Hermione's semi-lecture on the history of the wizarding village and Ron's excitement about Zonko's and Honeyduke's didn't do the place justice.

It was Saturday afternoon, Halloween day. For the first time in seven years, the holiday fell on a weekend. Without the stress of classes being that day or the next, it seemed everyone was enjoying the chance to let loose. Everyone she came across seemed full of holiday spirit, including the ghosts, who had taken to scaring unsuspecting students and teachers as they walked along the halls.

Halloween had always been her favorite holiday. What other time of year could you dress up as whatever you wanted and beg for candy? And at Hogwarts, it seemed Halloween was just as high on their list of holidays as it was on hers. At breakfast the excitement was almost palpable, an excitement that increased as noon rolled around and the trip into Hogsmead drew nearer. Her vision of a magical village was based primarily on the movie's she'd seen throughout her life. She expected a small village nestled in a little clearing, maybe a few shops, with the typical Halloween decorations scattered around.

The village of Hogsmead, though, put all of that to shame.

With the last leaves falling, bathing the streets and slant roofed buildings in red and gold, it looked like something out of a child's fantasy. The smell of baking pies and cookies was in the air, along with the sharp scent of autumn. A number of pumpkins floated lazily just above the crowd, grinning evilly. There were already small plates and cups of food and drink on doorsteps, and it seemed every cat was black and hissing.

And it wasn't even dark yet.

"It's brilliant, isn't it?" Harry said.

"Yeah," Mariam fought down the urge to start giggling like a school girl and run into the nearest shop, an urge that was far too strong at the moment.

"Too bad we're not allowed to stay after dark," Ron said. "That's when all the fun really starts."

A small hand went into hers, and the red-haired witch found herself being hauled towards one of the buildings by Hermione. "You two stay out here," the young witch ordered her friends. "Ms. Elvbow and I are going to do some early Christmas shopping. We'll meet you at the Three Broomsticks in an hour."

Marian let herself be dragged off by Harry's friend, amused that the girl was treating her like an old friend, then smiled ruefully to herself. She'd always looked young, and her short height meant the two of them stood eye-to-eye. She guessed it was easy to forget that you weren't dealing with an adult, especially when that adult acted like she was fifteen.

"Sorry about that," Hermione apologized when they were out of sight of the boys. "They've been hounding me all week about one thing or another. I wanted some fresh air."

"Sure, glad to be a help." Marian glanced at the window of a shop that looked like it sold bottled rainbows. "Does Harry still hyperventilate a little when he gets excited?"

Hermione laughed. "Like a six-year-old."

Marian laughed as Hermione did a fair impression of Harry in one of his bouts of excitement. "So, Harry tells me they've bumped you up to second year studies."

The woman grimaced. "Yeah. One month of study sessions and they feel I'm ready for round two." She shuddered dramatically. "I just barely got over having to touch dog slobber, now they want me to deal with raw toad entrails. Yeech."

"Well, I'm sure Harry's told you that I'm willing to help if you need it. Just let me know."

"Thanks, but don't you have classes of your own to worry about? I wouldn't want to drag you away from your own studies." She watched as Hermione blinked as if not comprehending what she'd just heard. And nearly staggered when she had her arms full of fifteen year old girl. "Wha- what's this for?" she asked, placing a hesitant hand on the girl's back.

Hermione pulled back, eyes shining. "You're the first person in years to not want my help on something." She gestured outside to the students milling around the shops. "Everyone else just takes my suggestions to help as being written in blood."

Marian smiled. So that was it. She'd heard enough in her wanderings through Hogwart's to know that Hermione was considered the brightest witch to attend the school in several decades. "They're too young to realize you're just being polite when you offer." And no doubt, if she did offer to help Ron or Harry a group would soon surround her, asking questions.

Hermione sighed. "You'd think they didn't have a brain."

"Most of them don't."

The two laughed, walking down the street until something caught the older woman's attention. "What's that?" It was Marian's turn to drag Hermione over to a display window where a glittering object about the size of her head was turning slowly in midair. At first she thought it was a jewel, but something wasn't right about it.

Hermione tisked. "It's a dragon's heart. I'm surprised they're showing it publicly like that. It's a restricted material."

The red-head looked up at the shop's sign. Billinge's Jewels was scrawled over what looked like a pile of gems that glittered in the sunlight. "Come on," Marian said, walking into the building.

Billinge's Jewels was almost completely deserted, except for a small witch who was hovering over one of the display cases. Rings, necklaces, bracelets, and unset stones were everywhere. Most of the stones were uncut, and for the most part unrecognizable.

"Welcome to Billinge's." A tall, heavy set man emerged from a curtained area, his robes immaculate and shining like his wares. " I'm Benjamin. How can I help you this All Hallows eve?"

Cryptic much, Marian thought to herself. "Um, I was wondering if I could get something appraised."

The man smiled. "Certainly. If you would come this way."

The two were lead over to a large table with a scale, and several other less obvious objects scattered around it. Benjamin held out his hand. "If you would."

Marian held out her necklace, feeling lost when the heavy stone left her fingers. Benjamin grunted slightly, then bounced the pendant in his hand a few times before laying it down in the center of a circle of runes. He tapped at the stone several times, each time saying an different incantation. Sparks of color flew off his wand, and once smoke hissed from a small section, but other than that, whatever he was doing seemed to have no effect. By the time he was done, the man's eyes fairly glowed.

"I was told it was a dragon's tear," Mariam said before he could open his mouth.

The jeweler licked his lips. "It is indeed. Perfect condition. No additives, no spell damage. The setting is rather old, perhaps three hundred years. A heirloom piece, then?"

"Something like that."

"Oh." Some of the light went out of his eyes.

The redhead leaned across the counter. "So, how much's it worth?"

The man swallowed. "Based on the quality of the stone, the precision of the cuts,the vibrancy of color...well over one million galleons. If you're interested in selling, I can arrange for it to be viewed by…"

Mariam stopped listening. One million galleons? She was wearing something around her neck that was worth… she did a quick estimate and was glad she was leaning against the counter, because she wasn't sure her legs would hold her up. Over four million pounds. Eight million US.

"Ms? Are you all right?"

"Fine! I'm fine." She held out her hand. "Anything else?"

For an instant she had the insane feeling that Benjamin was about to vault over the countertop and take off with her necklace. Carefully, regretfully, he dropped the stone in her palm. "It is extremely valuable, young lady. Perhaps a vault would be a safer place for something of this magnitude. Here at Billinge's we have several-"

"No," Mariam shook her head and placed the chain around her neck. Who knew that the thing was worth that much? "I feel safer keeping it close."

He nodded. "I hope that, should you ever think of selling, that you will keep my humble shop in mind."

Boy, is he laying it on thick or what? Still, it never hurt to be magnanimous. "If that day ever comes, I promise you'll be the first person I contact." She didn't add that it would be a cold day in Hell while the Pope rode a pogo stick if that day ever came, but it was the thought that counted.

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