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Happy Holidays!

The minute they crossed through the castle threshold, Hilda was painfully reminded of the danger that lurked within the castle. Within the end of the first week, the Hufflepuff Muggleborn Justin Finch-Fletchley had been petrified along with Nearly Headless Nick. Harry had been fingered by many as the prime suspect. Despite the Weasley Twins' best attempts to even the odds, it currently stood at Potter 10:1, Malfoy 50:1.

Curfews had been enforced, meaning that Hilda rarely had the time to see David and Frida outside of classes and meals. It was probably just as well, as Frida's study program had reached a new level of intensity.

Trouble had also arisen in the Golden Trio's plot to infiltrate the Slytherin dormitory. The night after Justin and Nick's attack, Hermione stormed through the portrait hole in a huff, pulling off the Invisibility Cloak and tossing it into Harry's lap. "The Polyjuice is ruined," she said. Thankfully, most of the students had gone to bed, so no one outside of those in the know heard her candid statement.

"What?" Ron sat up from his chess game with Hilda. "What happened?" Hermione tossed something onto the table, scattering the chess pieces to their shouts of dismay. "A book?"

"Some idiot threw that into Myrtle's toilet," Hermione replied. "It landed right in the cauldron, and the entire potion turned black and burned through the cauldron bottom. The stain on the floor will probably never come off."

Harry walked over to the table and picked up the journal. "This book did all that?"

Hermione scowled at the diary. "Don't ask me how, all I know is that whoever threw it will have a lot of explaining to do if I ever catch them."

(At that moment, Ginny Weasley crawled through the portrait, a serene expression gracing her face for the first time in months. Upon noticing the diary in Harry's hands, her face went white as a sheet. Fortunately, the trio and Hilda were too caught up in their own matters to notice her, and she escaped up the girl's dormitory stairs unseen.)

Harry flipped through the pages of the book. "It's completely blank."

"If you want a diary, Harry, you're welcome to keep it. I tried setting it on fire, but apparently, it's fireproof."

Hilda took the book from Harry's hand and read the embossed name on its cover. "Who's Tom Marvolo Riddle?" she asked.

Hermione shrugged. "No idea. Harry?"

Harry shook his head. "Can't say I've ever heard of him."

"...I have," Ron said. All heads turned to him. "When I was in detention with Filch after the car...accident, he had me polish all of the trophies in the Trophy Hall-without magic, I might add."

"Get to the point, Ron."

"Anyway, Tom Marvolo Riddle—what a ridiculous middle name, don't you think? It doesn't even mean anything. Alright, stop shouting, I'll get to it—he was the Head Boy in 1945. He had a trophy for 'actions of bravery and duty to the school', whatever that means."

"Wasn't that the year the Chamber of Secrets was first opened?" Hilda asked. "Do you think he had something to do with it?"

"No way to find out," Ron said. "Other than asking Riddle himself. Who knows where he is, though, or if he's even still alive."

Hermione groaned and collapsed into an armchair. "Well, whatever he did, his stupid diary ruined our plans."

"Can't we just make another one?" Harry asked.

"It took me a month to make this one," Hermione replied. "By the time we had a new one ready, someone else could get petrified, or worse."

"So we're out of luck," Harry said. "Well, we tried, guess we'll have to find a new way of catching Malfoy."

"Ahem."

Everyone looked to Hilda's shoulder. "Who was that?" Ron asked.

"Alfur," Hermione replied. "Haven't you signed the paperwork yet?"

"...It's on a list of things to do."

"As I was about to say, I may have a solution to your problem," Alfur said, grinning.

I was hoping We could break in, the Voice said.

Hilda rolled her eyes. Not a chance.

You're no fun.

Hilda crept down the dungeon stairway, setting Alfur down a few yards from the Slytherin's secret entrance. "At midnight, I'll come down to get you. Think you can get in and out by then?"

"Should be a piece of cake," Alfur said, grinning.

Hilda grinned back. "Ok, good luck, and avoid the cats." With that, she turned and darted back up the stairs.

"...Cats?"

Ten minutes later, Alfur slipped into the Slytherin dormitory by clinging to the robe of a prefect returning from patrol. Hopping off, he scurried from cover to cover, eyes peeled for any patrolling cats. He went down a side corridor lined with doors, pausing to read the nameplate on each one. He noted with surprise that the Slytherins had their own private double rooms. He imagined that Ron would seethe at the idea. He finally located the right door: Malfoy/Zabini. Voice could be heard on the other side. Alfur nimbly scaled the door and slipped through the keyhole.

"How was your Christmas, Draco?" Malfoy and a dark-skinned boy were seated by a coal fire, sharing a bottle of firewhiskey between them. Alfur crept closer towards the two, taking a place under an overstuffed green ottoman.

"It was alright," Draco muttered, pausing to take a swig from the bottle. He gritted his teeth as the liquid burned down his throat before continuing. "Mother was happy to see me. Father was busy at the Ministry, and was barely home. When we did get to talk, he lectured me on my behavior at school, and quizzed me about his favorite topic."

"Potter?" Zabini asked.

"Harry-Bloody-Potter," Draco muttered, taking a second swig before passing it back. "Father's pleased as punch that everyone thinks he's the Heir of Slytherin. He says one more attack and Dumbledore the Board of Governors will have Dumbledore removed as Headmaster and he'll ship Potter off to Azkaban."

Alfur took out a roll of parchment and began to take notes.

"Your father sounds awfully pleased about the whole business."

"Well, he's upset, of course. He just thinks the headmaster isn't handling the job correctly. New blood is what's needed."

"New blood?" Zabini repeated, smirking. "Is that what the Purebloods are after these days?"

"Don't be a prat, Blaise. You know what I mean."

Blaise rolled his eyes "Of course I do," he replied. He finished off the bottle and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "So, what do you think about this Chamber business? You think Potter is really the Heir?"

Draco laughed. "Hardly. He's too much of a Muggle-lover to do something like that. Besides, wouldn't it be more likely the Heir of Slytherin is one of our own?"

Zabini grimaced. "Which brings me to my next question."

"Merlin, Blaise! You really buy that dragon dung the Weasley twins are selling?"

"Don't blow your top," Blaise snapped back. "Of course it wasn't you. We both know you were nowhere near when the attacks happened."

Malfoy frowned. "No, I wasn't." He swirled the remnants of the firewhiskey around the bottom of the bottle, his expression suddenly thoughtful. "Do people really think I'd do something like that?" he asked.

"I don't."

"But, do other people?"

"Well…" Blaise began, rubbing the back of his head. "Your blatant Pure-Blood bigotry doesn't help your case at all. Neither does your family's… complicated reputation."

"My father had nothing to do with the Dark Lord," Draco said defensively. "He was under the Imperius. Everyone knows that."

"...Sure."

Malfoy decided that he didn't like the direction the conversation was going. "How was your Christmas, Blaise?"

Blaise shrugged. "It was fine. I met my new Stepfather. He seems…not long for this world. Wouldn't stop chewing with his mouth open at dinner. Mother was glaring daggers the whole evening."

"He get you anything good?"

"Yep," Blaise walked over to his dresser and opened the top drawer. "He got me a Sneakoscope. Although, knowing Mother, he probably needs one more than I do-wait, what?" He pulled the device from the drawer and held it up for Draco to see. The top-shaped device was spinning in his palm, emitting flashes of red light and whistling.

"What on Earth?" Malfoy muttered, standing up and walking over for a closer look.

Zabini pulled his wand from his robe. "We're being watched," he said, eyes scanning the room. He kneeled down and set the device on the floor. "Show us," he commanded. With a long whistle, the top began to spin across the room, making a beeline for Alfur's hiding place.

"Eeep!" Alfur dropped his parchment and dove out of the Sneakoscope's path. The device stopped and reversed course. Alfur raced for the door, the Sneakoscope in hot pursuit.

"Cut it off!" Zabini shouted. Malfoy stepped in front of the door and aimed his wand towards Alfur. With nowhere else to go, the elf jumped onto Malfoy's pant leg and shimmied up it.

"Something's on me!" Draco shouted, kicking his leg frantically. Alfur held on for dear life but eventually lost his grip. He was flung across the room, landing with a soft thump on Malfoy's bed. "Look!" Draco pointed to the indentation the elf made on the comforter. "It's invisible!"

Blaise shot a spell a the comforter. It missed the elf, but punched a hole in the fabric, throwing goose feathers into the air like snow. Alfur leapt off the bed, raced across the room, and made his escape through the keyhole in the resulting confusion.

"It's not him," Alfur said as he clambered onto Hilda's shoulder.

"Just as I thought," Hilda replied. "Ron's not going to be pleased."

"Wait till I tell him about the private bedrooms."

Hilda turned to make her way out of the dungeons when the sound of footsteps approaching made her pause. "Someone's coming!" she whispered.

"Hide!"

"There's nowhere to go!"

A moment later, Snape rounded the corner. Hilda froze, pressed against the wall, eyes wide in horror. However, Snape passed right by her, going up the stairs as though he hadn't noticed her at all.

"What on Earth?" Hilda muttered as the professor's footsteps faded away.

"Hilda!" Alfur said.

"What?"

"You're invisible!"

Hilda glanced down and jumped in surprise. Alfur was right. "But… how?"

Looks like I'm full of surprises, the Voice said. You owe me for this.

I don't like the sound of that.

Quietly, Hilda crept up the stairs, pausing as she reached the Grand Foyer. Snape was standing at the foot of the grand staircase, arms crossed, foot tapping as he stared at the door. "What's he doing?" Alfur asked.

As if on cue, the front door opened and Hagrid entered, soaked from the sudden rainstorm that had blown in. He crossed the foyer for the stairs, only to freeze when he caught sight of Snape. "Severus! Fancy runnin' into you."

"Yes, quite the coincidence," Snape replied. "Heading up to see the headmaster?"

"As a matter o'fact, I was. If you could just step aside."

Snape blocked the stairs. "Not yet. I have some questions for you."

Hagrid began to wring his hands. "Ah, well, fire away, then."

"I spoke to Albus this morning," Snape began. "As to the matter of your...expulsion from the school."

"Now, Severus, y'don't honestly believe that I-"

"I don't know what to believe, Rubeus," the Potion Master replied. "The Ministry suspects you, and just one more attack will give them all the ammunition they need to send you to Azkaban."

"They wouldn't!" Hagrid said, eyes wide in horror. "Dumbledore knows I had nuthin' to do-"

"Dumbledore's head is on the chopping block as well," Snape replied. "If you knew what was good for you, you would leave Hogwarts tomorrow."

"I can't do that. This is me home."

"For how much longer?" Snape asked, looking around the grand space. "I'm not threatening you, Rubeus, I'm warning you. If you were to leave, then the next attack could not be pinned on you."

"I won't leave, Severus. This is me home," the groundskeeper repeated. "I know I'm innocent, and so does Dumbledore, so I will stay put."

Snape sighed. "Very well. Good luck, Rubeus. Please be careful."

"Well, er, I will. Thank you, Severus."

"Don't." With that, Snape stepped aside and allowed the half-giant to continue his way up the stairs. As Hagrid ascended, he watched for a few moments, then shook his head. "Fool," he muttered, before heading back to the dungeons. Again, he passed right by Hilda without noticing her presence.

"Harry!" Hilda climbed through the portrait. "I have big news!" Harry was seated at a table on the far end of the room, hunched over a book. "Malfoy didn't do it, but Hagrid-" she stopped. "Harry?"

Harry didn't respond. His eyes were directed at the book before him, his quill hovering motionless over the page. Hilda waved a hand in front of Harry's face, but he didn't seem to notice. Hilda looked down at the book on the table and realized it was Riddle's diary. "Harry, are you alright?" A second later, Harry gasped and nearly fell out of his chair. "Harry!"

He noticed Hilda and flinched. "Hilda! What...how?"

"What happened?" Hilda asked. "You looked like you were in some kind of a trance."

"I...the book," Harry gestured to the diary. "It…" He gave up trying to explain and rubbed his eyes. "Maybe you should take a look, see for yourself."

He stood up and gestured for Hilda to take his place. "What do I do?" Hilda asked as she sat down.

"Introduce yourself," Harry replied, handing her a quill.

"What?"

Harry pointed to the quill, then to the blank pages of the diary. Hilda caught on, and after dipping the quill in Harry's inkpot, she began to write: Hello, my name is Hilda Dahl.

The words faded away just as soon as she had written them. A moment later, a new message appeared on the pages, in a different hand. Hello, Hilda, my name is Tom Riddle.

Johanna stood by the window, eyes cast out over the churning sea. With Hilda back at school the house was a cold, silent place. The charm of wilderness living had worn off when Johanna realized her isolation from the rest of Trolberg. Trips to the grocery store or to see friends meant long, uncomfortable car rides, and while she had been used to lacking neighbors when she'd lived in the valley, the menace of the woods around her and the unforgiving pounding of the sea made her loneliness all the worse.

Freezing rain lashed the conservatory window. The squall that had rolled in from the west had turned the roads to muck, effectively trapping her at the house. At times, the building groaned in the wind, its timbers straining and cracking around her. It made sleep difficult; Johanna had the bags under her eyes to prove it.

Having Tontu around the house made things somewhat tolerable, but the Nisse tended to keep to himself, with the exception of mealtimes and the occasional night of vegging out in front of the TV set. Johanna tried to work but found it nearly impossible. Which was why she had started to explore the old house on her own.

That afternoon, she decided to climb the tower. Gripping the rail, she carefully ascended the spiral staircase, taking great pains not to look down as she went up. Three stories up, she found herself in a room, not unlike the lantern room of a lighthouse. It quite possibly had been, if the ruff rocks at the base of the cliffs were as dangerous as they appeared. It was a circular space, with windows on all sides. You could see in all directions from up there. In the center of the room was a large lantern, its glow controlled by a set of operable shutters.

Johanna went to one of the windows and fished her binoculars from her case. It was her mysterious Christmas gift: a note included in the package explained how they were charmed to zoom in and out like a camera lens, to a distance of five miles. Removing the lens caps, she put the binoculars to her eyes and peered through the rain.

The first thing she saw of was the fairy circle. Hilda had told her about the haunted place. She watched the circle for a few minutes. Although there was no sign of activity, she noticed how the grass within the circle seemed untouched by the wind and rain. She shivered and focused on Raven Rock. A flash of lightning told her that the Great Raven was still struggling with his winter cold. She chuckled, then turned her attention left of Raven Rock, to the island of Azkaban beyond.

She adjusted her sights, zooming in. The castle was dark. Above it, a half-dozen Dementors could be seen prowling around, masked heads swiveling for signs of trouble. Johanna looked back down at the castle and spotted someone standing at one of the windows. Zooming as far as the binoculars could go, she could make out the sallow, sunken-cheeked face of an inmate. His black hair was long and disheveled, and streaked with grey. The man had his face pressed between the bars, eyes gazing towards the monsters flying overhead.

Johanna sighed and leaned against the lantern case. Accidentally, she opened the shutters, bathing the room in light. Johanna swore and was about to close them when she noticed the prisoner's head turn towards her in surprise. She could have sworn they locked eyes at that moment.

Experimentally, Johanna closed the shutters, quickly opening it. The man had definitely noticed and was now staring in wide-eyed fascination. Then, to Johanna's surprise, the man raised a hand and waved. Johanna smiled to herself and flashed the lamp again. Yes, he was responding.

Of course, Johanna knew that she was communicating with a dangerous criminal. Still, she felt bad for the men and women forced to live with the Dementors, having all happiness sucked out of their lives. It was a fate worse than death, or the Kiss. Living for the rest of your life as though you'll never be happy again.

And so the next night Johanna returned to the tower, this time with a book on Morse code. She'd spent an hour flashing the entire alphabet to the prisoner. From his nods and smiles, she figured that he had caught on.

Finally, she sent the first message. Hello, my name is Johanna.

As she watched, the man raised a hand and gritted his teeth. To her amazement, a faint light began to flash from his index finger. He grinned, evidently pleased with himself. The ensuing message was garbled by his inexperience at Morse code, but Johanna could make out the message:

Hello Johanna, my name is Padfoot.

Hilda fell back into the chair a cold sweat on her forehead. "What?" she asked.

"I know," Harry replied. He grabbed Tom Riddle's journal and flipped it shut. "What did he show you?"

"The first attacks, and Hagrid…" Hilda sat up straight in surprise. "Hagrid! I overheard him and Snape talking earlier. The government thinks Hagrid is responsible."

"He isn't exactly looking very innocent."

Hilda frowned. "Maybe we should ask Tom some more questions."

No. Do not touch it again. There is something wrong with it, something...dark.

Hilda shrugged. "Then again, maybe not. We can show it to Hermione and Ron tomorrow. Maybe they'll be able to offer advice."

Harry nodded. "Good idea. You want to hold onto it until then, or should I?"

Hilda looked back down at the book and gave an involuntary sliver. "Maybe you should. That thing gives me the creeps.

The next morning, Hilda found David and Frida at the Gryffindor table. "Good morning."

Frida barked a laugh. "Hah, 'good' morning."

Hilda and David shared a look. "Are you, alright, Frida?"

"I'm fine," Frida replied, looking not at all fine. "It just seems that I'm the only one of us who is really focusing on the exams."

"We're focusing," David replied defensively.

"Then why didn't either of you show up to yesterday afternoon's study session?"

"There was a security meeting in the Hufflepuff dorms about the petrifications," David explained. "I had to attend."

"And you, Hilda? Where were you?"

Hilda considered her answer carefully. "I was at a similar meeting."

"You could have told me."

Hilda rolled her eyes."Honesty, Frida, you're taking this way too seriously."

"I'm sorry if you're too busy running around with Harry Potter to think about your future."

"Who are you to tell me what to do?"

"I'm your friend!"

David sighed. "This is like the messy room all over again."

"Do NOT bring that up!" Frida ordered.

Hilda stood up, scattering some plates. "I don't need to take this from you. You don't know what I'm going through!"

"Whatever," Frida stood up as well, collecting her bags. "I'm going to the library."

"Good, I'll know not to bother you there."

Frida stormed off. She collided with Harry who had been running late and had dashed into the Hall. The books in both of their hands went flying. Harry swore, then bent to pick them up. "I'm sorry, Frida. Let me help."

"I'm fine!" Frida snapped. Harry looked taken aback, then shrugged and grabbed his books from the floor.

"Everything alright with your friend?" Harry said as he sat down next to Ron and Hilda.

"She's worried about the exams, just as she worries about everything."

Harry moaned. "Looks like Hermione's got a clone running around."

"What's a clone?" Ron asked.

"It's a… nevermind."

Hilda leaned across the table. "Do you have it?" she asked in a low voice.

"Yep," Harry, rummaged through his books, then frowned. "Oh, I guess I left it in my dormitory in my hurry to get down here."

"No problem. We can talk to Hermione about it tonight."

"Talk to me about what?" Hermione asked, sitting next to David and helping herself to toast.

"It's complicated. We'll tell you later."

Hermione shrugged. "Suit yourself." She put down her toast and rummaged through her own stack of books. "Harry, Ron, I've taken the liberty of creating study guides for you." She handed each of the boys a ten-page stack of parchment. "What say we start this afternoon with History of Magic."

Harry gave Hilda a small grin. "Two Hermiones," he mouthed. Hilda waggled her eyebrows and tried not to laugh.

For the second night, Johanna climbed the tower and lit the lantern. She sat down and peered through her binoculars, counting the windows until she found his.

But he wasn't there. Johanna lowered her binoculars, somewhat disappointed.

She waited an hour, then two, but no Padfoot. At midnight she extinguished the lantern and descended the tower.

She stopped off in the kitchen before bed and found it in chaos. "Tontu? Have you been making cookies again?" she asked, inspecting the flour-covered table. No response. The Nisse must be elsewhere. "So I suppose I'll have to clean this up, then?"

Sighing, she gathered up the baking detritus and left the house. She had staked out a future vegetable garden and had begun a compost heap in the far corner, which would hopefully be ready for harvest by mid-spring. She shivered from the North Sea Winds as she left the house. The moon was full but partially obscured by clouds.

When she was halfway to the compost heap, she heard it. A howl echoed across the island, freezing the blood in her veins. Another howl and she could tell it was close. As she stared, a black form emerged from behind the compost heap, a pair of yellow eyes glowing in the moonlight. Dropping her load of rubbish, she turned and ran back to the house, bolting the door behind her.

She ran into the drawing room and fumbled with her keyring until she found the one for the gun cupboard. She picked a hunting rifle and loaded it with trembling fingers.

Tontu walked into the room, casually chewing on an apple. "You alright?" he asked.

"There's something out there," Johanna replied, moving to the window and pulling aside the curtains to glance out.

"What?"

"I don't know. It sounded like a wolf. Only, not entirely. It almost sounded human.

As that moment, a tap came to one of the windows, several scratches running down the glass. Johanna ducked, motioning for Tontu to follow. "Cut the lights!" she hissed. Tontu obeyed. They waited, faces uplit by the low embers in the fireplace, as something paced back and forth outside, occasionally pawing at the glass. Johanna pulled the bolt back on the rifle.

"Do you know how to use that thing?" Tontu asked.

"Of course."

"Well, in that case, could you not aim it at me."

"Oh, sorry," Johanna raised the barrel and smiled sheepishly. Any further conversation was hushed by the creature's terrible scratches.

After what seemed like an eternity (Johanna's watch counted it at ninety seconds, give or take), the creature gave a baleful whine and left, its footsteps receding back into the night.

"Ok, that was creepy," Tontu admitted after an extra minute of silence.

"I need your help," Johanna said, standing up. "We need to check every door and window in the house. If you'll get the second floor, I'll get this floor."

"Fine, but you owe me."

"I wouldn't have bumped into that creature if you'd cleaned up after yourself," Johanna pointed out. "If anything, you owe me."

Tontu shrugged. "Whatever you say."