Disclaimer: Still not J.K.

This chapter is unbeta-ed. If you see any glaringly obvious SPaG errors, feel free to leave them in a review.

THE CYNICS

Chapter Three

Of New Friendships and Ingrained Rivalries

Christmas was coming.

The castle had, it seemed, gone from barren and archaic to festive and cheery overnight. Two days after Professor McGonagall had approached her, huge pine and fir trees lined the corridors, draped with all sorts of gaudy baubles and lengths of tinsel, and mistletoe that sneakily appeared wherever potential victims made themselves known had been covertly hung from the stone ceilings. The students seemed to be in perpetually good moods, and even the teachers had lightened up, forgoing any homework for the last two weeks of term.

"There's a Hogsmeade weekend!" Padma squealed as she, Hermione and Neville pushed through a small crowd to look at the noticeboard. They had just finished breakfast, and had spied the new notice on their way to the Quidditch pitch for the highly anticipated Gryffindor-Slytherin game. "Right before we leave! That's excellent - I was worried I'd have to rush through my shopping once I got home!"

She looks much too energetic for someone who just got off their sickbed, Hermione laughed silently. She beamed, a smile lighting up her face. "McGonagall read my mind. I've been meaning to stock up on some Sugar Quills for weeks."

They elbowed their way out of the crowd, and she continued bossily, "Now, you know our Christmas tradition. Neither of you can come with me when I go shopping, got it? I won't take the chance of you two seeing what I got you."

"Ditto," Neville said, grinning as he clapped his hands together. "I think I already know what I'm getting you guys, I've just got to get some stuff from Hogsmeade and my dad…" He chuckled at their curious looks. "And no, no amount of puppy dog eyes are going to make me tell you what your presents are."

"Hmph," Padma said, eyes twinkling. "Let's see about that." She turned to Hermione with her hands on her hips. "Honestly, your Christmas traditions are the worst! I wish you wouldn't put those tricky Time-Delay Charms on the wrapping paper! I mean, charming the paper into steel until Christmas is genius, but you never let me cheat!"

"It's not as if you don't guess what they are correctly every time anyway," Hermione laughed, rolling her eyes. "I swear you're a Seer."

"Oh yes," Padma nodded seriously, taking on the husky voice of Professor Trelawney as she dramatically flung her arms into the air. "Terrible things will happen as Mars passes Venus! Beware the crossing, beware!"

As the three friends made their way outside in high spirits, Hermione spotted a billow of black robes in the corner of her eye which instantly killed her mood. Professor Snape was in a side corridor, looking rather nasty as he berated a small Ravenclaw boy. The boy had in his hands what looked to be a Fanged Frisbee, and he seemed to be doing everything in his power to avoid looking at the intimidating Potions professor.

"That poor kid looks like he's going to burst into tears," she said as Neville and Padma noticed the scene. She looked pained. "Merlin, if that's how Snape spreads the festive cheer..."

"Sorry Hermione," Neville said, his face a mixture of sympathy and evil amusement, "but I'm glad I don't have to stay in a castle with him for the hols. Way to take the 'merry' out of Christmas."

It seemed that the list of students staying had dramatically increased since Hermione had seen it. Apparently Potter, the rest of Potter's family, Snape and the Blacks had all decided to stay at the castle, resulting in the largest Christmas Hogwarts had seen in a while. Hermione only knew because she had overheard - alright, more like eavesdropped on - Aurigan Black planning pranks with the Weasley twins all of last night in the Gryffindor Common Room.

"The Weasleys, the Blacks and the Snapes plus Potter," Hermione moaned. "Why oh why did my parents have to go at this time of the year?"

"I dunno, Hermione," Padma said with a lascivious wiggle of her eyebrows. "Looks like you got a pretty good deal to me. Maybe not Snape, but the rest..." An uncharacteristic smirk spread across her lips. "I wouldn't mind being caught under a sprig of mistletoe with one of those boys. I might have to arrange it before I leave, actually."

"Ew, Padma!" Hermione exclaimed, pushing her away, while Neville looked repulsed.

"What? They're fit!"

The Quidditch pitch was absolutely packed, and Hermione covered her ears with mittened hands as they arrived. Excited roars filled the air - the result of three-quarters of the school trash-talking the snake house, and vice versa - and all four Houses were engaging in behaviour that removed any doubt in Hermione's mind that humans were indeed descended from apes. Even Percy Weasley, the straitlaced Head Boy, was jumping up and down in anticipation in the Gryffindor stands as he waited for his three brothers to fly onto the pitch.

"Gryffindor stands today, I think," Padma proclaimed, dragging Hermione and Neville with her. "My sister's announced herself Gryffindor's lead cheer writer, and I can't wait to see what horrid chant she and Lavender have come up with."

"No seats in the front-row, though," Neville said quickly with a sly glance at Hermione, who pinked with embarrassment. "We don't want a repeat of last time."

Hermione groaned. The last Gryffindor game had been the epitome of embarrassment.

Most people assumed she wasn't a Quidditch fan - or at least, they had thought so before that game - but that wasn't strictly true. The game itself was okay, she supposed, but what she really loved about the matches were the pure, unadulterated passion that always accompanied them. It gave her a sense of freedom to just get in there and scream as loudly as the others, to forget all her worries as she cheered for her House - and really, it was the only time she ever felt like she was one of them. Like she was a lion, too.

During that particular game, she had been shouting her support for Fred Weasley, one of the Beaters who had been trying to down the Slytherin seeker, Potter. She must have been waving her arms and jumping a bit too much, because in the process, she had inadvertently caught Weasley's eye, whose aim went haywire for a split second and whose Bludger started careening not for Potter, but straight to her. It had caught her right in the head, and because she had been in the very front row, she had dropped from the stand like a fly, right in the middle of her cheer.

No one had ever let her live that one down.

"You're horrible, Neville," Hermione mumbled, as he snickered. It really had been embarrassing, even if she could laugh about it now in retrospect.

They wove their way through the maze of scarlet-and-gold supporters, finally coming to a stop at the area where Parvati and Lavender were sitting with scrolls of parchment in their hands.

"Oh good, you're here!" Lavender exclaimed when she saw them. "Finally!"

Hermione looked at the others sitting in the vicinity. Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan looked miserable as they stared blankly at their scrolls of parchment, while a redheaded girl who was obviously a Weasley sat beside Lavender, unenthusiasm written across her face. She stifled a laugh. "Is this your Gryffindor cheer team?"

Parvati shoved scrolls into their hands. "We're just the catalysts," she told her. "Once we start cheering, everyone else will follow. It'll be a hit!"

Hermione wasn't so sure, especially when she read the contents of the parchment.

Us lions rule, come hear us roar!

We're driving up the Quidditch score!

Our games are stuff of Hogwarts lore!

Come on friends, it's GRYFFINDOR!

"You don't honestly expect us to say this?" Hermione heard Padma ask her twin in horror as she read through it. "That's beyond humiliating!"

Parvati looked offended. "It is not! Lav and I spent a week on that!" She tried to intimidate her sister with a wrathful glare as her hands settled on her hips.

"I'm not having it," Padma declared, shaking her head. "Here - give it to someone else." As Parvati opened her mouth to argue, she said, "You can't make me. I'm not even in Gryffindor!"

"Fine," Parvati scowled, spinning around to pin Neville and Hermione under her icy look. "You two have no choice, though."

Fat chance, Hermione thought as she went to sit down. Parvati and Padma went to sit on the other side of Lavender, with Neville following so he could sit between Padma and Dean. The only place left was on the end, beside the Weasley.

"Hi," she said as she sat down. "I'm Hermione Granger."

The redhead, who had her eyes trained on the pitch, looked up. "Ginny," she said softly. "Ginny Weasley."

So that's her name, Hermione thought. She had seen Ginny around, of course, but having never exchanged a word with any of the Weasleys aside from Ronald, she hadn't known what she was called. The girl was in Second Year, and was very well-liked from what she knew.

"This chant is really something, isn't it?" Hermione said to her with amusement, figuring small talk was the way to go with the younger girl. "How'd you get dragged into this?"

"Lavender has the most awful crush on my brother Ron," Ginny explained in a low tone, so that the garrulous girl wouldn't hear. "She's making me do it to 'show my support'." Her face scrunched up in distaste, causing Hermione to laugh. Suddenly, the redheaded girl's eyes slid over the brunette. "You're-" She hesitated. "You're the girl my brother hit with a bludger last game, aren't you?"

"I'm never going to be allowed to forget that, am I?" Hermione asked wryly.

"No, I just…" Ginny gave her a shy smile. "Fred felt really bad about it; he wouldn't shut up for days. Said he thought you were a Howler, the way you were carrying on." As Hermione groaned, she said hurriedly, "No, no, he meant it in a good way - he just reckoned he had never heard anyone's voice carry a hundred metres until he saw you. He wanted to go to the Hospital Wing and apologise, but he figured you wouldn't want to talk to him - especially because, you know, you and Ron don't really get along. In the end, him and George snuck out to Hogsmeade so he could get you some Chocolate Frogs instead."

"That was him?" Hermione asked in surprise, remembering the box of chocolates that had been left at her bedside while she had been recovering in the Hospital Wing. No note had been left with it, so she had assumed it had come from Neville or Padma.

Ginny nodded. "My brothers even got a detention for it, because they got caught on their way back."

"Oh."

Well, that was surprising, and rather nice of them, too. Aside from Ronald, she had never given the other Weasleys much thought. Percy Weasley was alright, if a bit nosy. He was smart, the Head Boy and had no tolerance for rule-breaking, which was something she could admire. Fred and George were incorrigible pranksters, but they had charming personalities, and even Ginny seemed (so far) like a nice, friendly person. It actually made her wonder what had happened to turn Ronald into the bad apple of the bunch.

Maybe he was just born like that… nature over nurture, and all that rot.

"The game's starting!" Ginny exclaimed, breaking her out of her thoughts. The two girls began to cheer as Gryffindor entered the pitch first, to an explosion of approval from the stands.

"And...here comes the Gryffindor Quidditch team!" Lee Jordan, the commentator, announced as the team did a lap around the pitch. His magically amplified voice echoed around the stands dramatically. "Wood, Johnson, Weasley, Weasley, Black, Weasley and the Seeker, Bell! If that isn't a winning lineup, I don't know what is. Just look at the way Johnson's making those sleek, smooth turns around the Quidditch pitch; keep an eye on that girl, she's a keeper! I mean, not an actual Keeper - she's clearly a chaser - but-"

"Jordan!" McGonagall's voice barked in warning, as it usually did whenever the dreadlocked boy did the commentary.

"Just stating the obvious, Professor, just stating the obvious!"

"Lee's a real personality, isn't he?" Ginny chuckled, looking infinitely more comfortable now that the game was beginning. Hermione noticed that her eyes were shining with anticipation, a feeling that was mirrored in Hermione's chest as she once again allowed herself to embrace the excitement of a Gryffindor game. "You can see why he's best friends with my brothers."

The Gryffindor team landed in the middle of the pitch, with Wood at Madam Hooch's side and the team hovering a few metres away.

"And now," Jordan continued, the enthusiasm in his voice somewhat diminished, "let's hear it for the Slytherin team." The stands erupted into a chorus of boos that drowned out the cheers of the green-clad house. "I wonder what bag of underhanded tricks they decided to bring out toda- I mean, what an outstanding lineup! Flint, Montague, Pucey, Derrick, Bole, Bletchley and their Seeker, Potter! Potter's got skills," he said, sounding grudgingly admiring. "What a waste of talent- should've been in Gryffindor, Potter, we'd've loved to have had you- not that Bell's any less of a Seeker-"

The Slytherins stands descended into hisses, and as Hermione glanced at them, she found her eyes drawn to a small clump in the centre. Riddle was sitting between Malfoy and Crabbe, looking supremely disinterested in the game. He was talking to Malfoy with a serious look on his face, and Malfoy looked petulant. When the blond's wandering gaze met hers, she hurriedly tore her eyes away from them and back to the pitch, where the game had started.

"The game begins, and... it's George Weasley with the Quaffle! Go Weasley, go!"

Hermione got onto her feet with the rest of Gryffindor, clapping hard as George zoomed towards the Slytherin hoops.

"He passes it to Blac- nope, intercepted by Flint. Flint throws it to Pucey, Pucey to Flint, Flint to Pucey, they're on their way to Gryffindor- Pucey takes a shot and- BLOCKED BY WOOD! What did I tell you, this man isn't made of wood, he's made of steel!"

"Yeah Ollie!" Ginny shouted beside her. The Slytherins collectively let out a groan of disappointment. "Think they can make a goal in less than two minutes, do they? As if!"

"Big Quidditch fan?" Hermione asked her.

"I'm a Weasley, it's in our blood!" Her eyes zeroed in on a figure in green who was circling the pitch. "Now, Potter's a good Seeker - and I mean, really good Seeker - so Gryffindor has to step up their game and get as many goals as they can before he finds the Snitch. Bell's okay but she's nowhere near Potter's league… as long as Wood continues to keep Slytherin on zero, I think we've got a shot at this."

"Right," Hermione nodded, although she hadn't really been listening. Her attention had been on Ronald Weasley, who had narrowly dodged a Bludger to the stomach from one of the Slytherin Beaters. He had the Quaffle, and he and his brother George were now passing it between themselves.

"The Weasleys have now got the Quaffle, with Weasley #3 at their backs, ready to fend off any stray Bludgers- beautiful strategy, that family is just full of talent, we'll be waiting on little Ginny now to complete the set-" Ginny's cheeks blushed redder than her hair as the others around them turned to look at her, "-and they pass it to Johnson, who hurls it at the posts and- SCORE! YES! FIRST GOAL OF THE GAME GOES TO GRYFFINDOR, IN THE FIRST FIVE MINUTES!"

"Yes, Won-Won!" Lavender screamed, jumping up and down. "Us lions rule, come hear us roar; we're driving u the Quidditch score..." Parvati joined in eagerly.

"Won-Won?" Hermione mouthed to Ginny, looking incredulous. Ginny just shook her head.

It was a very close game, and fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on how one looked at it), both teams were quite evenly matched. After an hour and a half, most of the earlier excitement had diminished and now, only the most diehard of fanatics were still watching with complete attention. The Snitch had been close to caught by Potter on three occasions, but all three times he had been thwarted by Aurigan Black, who, rather than going easy on him, seemed to have it out for his best friend. Potter's attempts seemed to grow more and more concentrated, as the score climbed from 10-0 to 170-30, Gryffindor's way.

The group of Gryffindors eventually began their own idle conversations, keeping only one eye on the pitch. Hermione and Ginny were discussing classes (always a safe topic, in Hermione's opinion) and the boys were talking about the Quidditch World Cup which was scheduled for the following year. Lavender, Parvati and Padma had predictably taken it upon themselves to gossip.

Hermione found Ginny refreshing. The younger girl was everything like her brothers, but nothing like them, at the same time. She was shy at first, unlike the other Weasleys that Hermione had met; once she got comfortable, however, she had the same lively, energetic attitude that made them so popular. Unlike many of the other pretty girls at Hogwarts (excepting those in Ravenclaw), she wasn't at all vapid, and she was smart enough to be getting solid Os and Es in all her subjects. When she talked about things she liked (such as Quidditch), she spoke with a passion that made Hermione wonder if she had inherited the infamous Weasley temper, and when Lavender, Parvati and Padma asked for her opinion on the 'most eligible boy in the school', she refused to answer, dismissing the question as 'codswallop'.

"I actually think Tom Riddle is," she said in hushed tones to Hermione once the three girls drifted back into their own conversation. Her eyes were gleaming. "Don't tell them I said that, though. I don't know about Padma, but Parvati and Lavender would spread it like Fiendfyre. My brothers would never let me hear the end of it; heaven forbid they ever find out I'm a girl." She misinterpreted Hermione's instantly intrigued look. "Don't worry, I'm used to being treated like 'one of the boys'."

But that wasn't why she was intrigued. Given her suspicions and all the strange things she had been noticing about Riddle ever since she had started paying attention to him, she was insanely curious to hear what others thought about him. She doubted they had been noticing the same things she had - after all, she wouldn't have noticed herself if not for her obsession with finding the Heir - but she was beginning to understand that Riddle was an enigma...and enigmas needed information to be solved. The countless Riddle fangirls in this school would be excellent sources of information, she realised, given their stalkeresque tendencies towards the boy in question.

"Why Riddle?" she asked, keeping her tone light.

"Why not Riddle?" Ginny replied with raised eyebrows. "He's perfect."

"I wouldn't go that far-"

"No, he really is perfect," Ginny said with emphasis. "It's like he's not even human. Extremely smart, charming - all the teachers like him, even the Headmaster, and he's the only Slytherin most of the school can stand - and good at everything. Not to mention, he looks…" She trailed off, seemingly unable to find words to complete her description of Riddle. "He's very handsome," she ended lamely.

Hermione cleared her throat. "Well, I- I agree," she said with an embarrassed blush. She never engaged in boy talk, not even with Padma. "But...don't you ever get the feeling that there's something more to him? Something odd?"

Ginny's confused look was answer enough. "Such as?"

Hermione shook her head. "Nevermind, it's nothing. Just…" She gave a cheery smile. "Can't get too friendly about him, we do have a supposed rivalry, you know."

"I heard about that," Ginny said immediately. "A girl I know from Ravenclaw said that Mandy Brocklehurst is really bitter because she's only third, and a Gryffindor and Slytherin are coming first and second." She grinned at Hermione. "Good on you. Haven't liked her ever since she called my brother a redheaded troll brat with a brain the size of her left pinky toenail. Creative insult, I'll give her that, but only I can bag on Ron."

Hermione opened her mouth to reply (after all, she also got the privilege of insulting Ron considering he insulted her on a weekly basis), but she was interrupted by a sudden blast of cheering. Lee Jordan's excited voice jolted everyone out of their stupors.

"HE'S SEEN IT! Come on, wake up you lot, Potter's seen the Snitch!"

Potter was speeding towards a spot near the Teachers' Stands, where Hermione could faintly make out a glimmering outline of gold. Katie Bell was hot on his tail, chasing after him, but her broom was nowhere near as fast as his and she seemed to be nursing a sore leg.

"Katie must've gotten hit by a Bludger," Ginny exclaimed. "Oh no! Potter's going to get it!"

Hermione's eyes darted to the scoreboard. 210 to 60, Gryffindor's way. Her heart began to jump as the Gryffindors around her started shouting.

"Come on! Bell, if you don't get the Snitch I'm going to be losing ten galleons-"

"Go Katie! Come on, you can do it!"

"Black! Weasley!" Seamus roared in his Irish accent. "Get on yer bloody butts and do something, ya great prats!"

The two Beaters, Fred and Aurigan, were zooming after the Bludgers, trying to hit them towards the black-haired Seeker. The grace with which Potter flew towards the Snitch, dodging Bludger after Bludger, frankly astounded Hermione; it was as if he had a sixth sense. He got closer to the Snitch… closer… closer...

CRACK! CRACK!

Suddenly, a hush fell over the crowd. Hermione's jaw dropped.

Potter had caught the Snitch - they had all seen it - but just as his hand had closed around it, Black's Bludger hit him straight in the arm. There was a sickening crunch as all the bones in the Seeker's arm splintered, and his agonised cry caused everyone in the stands to wince. Seconds later, a second Bludger from Fred crashed into his knee, drawing a second shout of pain from him as his leg bones were smashed.

For a split second, Potter hovered in the air, the Snitch clenched in his bleeding hand. Then he began to fall.

"Oh my God," Hermione murmured, eyes wide in horror.

"Someone, help him!"

"The professors- they need to do something-"

"Arresto Momentum!" Professor Snape's shout was so loud that the entire stadium heard him with the clarity of someone standing beside him. The professor was already running onto the pitch, his wand pointed at Potter's rapidly descending figure. At the same time, a familiar voice yelled, "Partum Culcita!" and just before Potter collided with the ground, a mattress appeared to cushion his fall.

Professor Snape didn't look back at Riddle, who had conjured the mattress, instead rushing over to his fallen step-son as Madame Pomfrey and the other teachers spilled onto the field. Black flew down, and Hermione could see he was pale and shaking, even from a distance. She couldn't hear what they were saying, but the Potions professor looked furious.

"Merlin," Ginny breathed.

And then Gryffindor and Slytherin descended into chaos.

In the next week, the tensions between Gryffindor and Slytherin ran at an all-time high. The incident at the Quidditch game had left Potter in the Hospital Wing for five days. For all their flaws, the Slytherins protected their own, and they were determined to get back at Gryffindor for the attempted sabotage of their victory. It didn't help that the Gryffindors - in their typical 'Sore Loser' mode, as Hermione called it - kept calling for a re-match, trying to argue that Black had hit him before he had caught the Snitch, and thus, Slytherin had not won at all. Nevermind that it had clearly been in Potter's shattered hand when he had fallen. No, the Gryffindors didn't take well to losing, and the Slytherins wanted revenge.

When the Hogsmeade visit rolled around, Hermione was still jittery. Nothing had happened to her over the week, but she had seen the many things that had happened to Aurigan Black, despite the fact that he had just been doing what every Beater did in any Quidditch game. The Slytherins hadn't even relented after Potter had exited the Hospital Wing, and enraged at the treatment of his best friend, had attempted to get the entirety of his House to stop; or when Professor Black had threatened them with detentions and losses of House Points. None of the 'pranks' could ever be traced back to the Slytherins, of course, but everyone knew who was responsible.

"Maybe we shouldn't split up," Neville said worriedly as the trio walked to the village. "I mean, if they bullied us before, imagine how much nastier they're going to be if they find us alone now."

Hermione and Padma had already discussed this back at the castle as they had put on their coats and winter hats. "They're not going to try anything, Nev," Padma said. "In the castle, they have a million places to hide, but there are too many people in Hogsmeade today not to get caught."

"Plus," Hermione added resolutely, "we can't let them ruin our traditions! They're just stupid Slytherins, after all." And I'm not going to let any stupid Slytherins ruin my plans.

Neville didn't look very reassured, but after a few minutes of convincing from the girls, he summoned his Gryffindor courage and nodded. "Of course not."

Hogsmeade looked exactly how Hermione imagined St. Nicholas' village would look. A thick blanket of snow stretched across the little shops' roofs like icing on a gingerbread house. Icicles dangled from shop signs, poinsettias and holly had been strung across shop windows and the wide pathway down the centre of the village had been cleared of snow to reveal dark gravel. There were people bustling about everywhere, finishing up their last minute shopping. It was, quite honestly, beautiful.

They split up in front of the Three Broomsticks, agreeing to meet back there in an hour, and Hermione set her sights on Honeydukes, the sweet shop. Much to her dismay, she had found out in First Year that she had a huge sweet tooth. The epiphany had come after trying candy for the first time in her life, one of Neville's chocolate frogs. The experience had been accompanied by a great deal of guilt at first for disobeying her dentist parents, but she had not been able to stop herself from developing an obsession. She hoped that getting sugar-free Sugar Quills was a happy little compromise that her parents surely wouldn't mind.

After stopping by Honeydukes for her Sugar Quills, and Scrivenshaft's for some real ones, her general housekeeping was done and she began hunting for presents for Padma and Neville. She had spent the entirety of last night brainstorming, and still wasn't quite sure what to get them. Money was of no concern, since her parents had given her a generous allowance for the holidays to make up for the inconvenient timing of their holiday, so she was determined to get the very best for the two people she loved most in the world besides her parents.

She wandered down the main street of the village, dodging the other shoppers as she peeked into each store. Both of the ones she had planned to go to - Gladrags Wizardwear for Parvati, and Dogweed and Deathcap for Neville - were packed to the rafters, causing her to grimace. She'd have to go back when the lines were shorter, although she had no idea why Dogweed and Deathcap of all places had so many customers. Surely there weren't that many people in need of Herbology supplies. Shaking her head, she almost missed the small shop tucked in between Ceridwen's Cauldrons and Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop.

When she did see it, her interest was instantly piqued. The banner above the shop window declared it 'Morgenbrook's Rarities', and a quick sweep of the inside showed that no one was shopping there. It didn't look like the kind of place Padma and Neville would go to, but when she glanced back at the huge queues of the other stores, she reasoned that it would be a while before she was able to enter the other shops, and there was no reason she couldn't snoop around for something for herself.

A bell tinkled as she pulled open the door and entered. The first thing she noticed was that it smelled very old inside, and that Morgenbrook's didn't seem to be the best kept of stores. The lighting was somewhat dim, and a trace of musk lingered in the air. No one seemed to be behind the register, which meant she was alone in the store. Odd.

Slowly, she began studying the items on the shelves and in the glass cases which surrounded her. From the looks - and prices - of some of the objects, Morgenbrook's was an antiquities store, which Hermione loved to no end. She had no idea that one existed in Hogsmeade - how had she not seen it before? - but it brought back memories of looking through flea markets with her grandmother. These were no ordinary flea market wares, though - a small golden brooch encrusted with rubies, apparently the 'Brooch of Gwendolyn Gryffindor, rumoured to protect the wearer from all forms of mind compulsion' had a hefty asking price of 300 galleons.

"May I help you, dear?"

Hermione jumped and spun around from her perusal of the brooch, looking startled. A man stood behind her, much too close. His shoulder-length, blonde hair was matted and greasy, and his breath stunk of cigars and alcohol. Long, black robes with a stiff collar completed his attire, and small, round spectacles were perched on a hooked nose. He was entirely too seedy-looking for her comfort.

"I was just...looking around," Hermione managed to blurt out. It was hard to think when she wanted nothing more than for this man to take about fifty steps back.

The man looked at her through narrowed eyes. "Is that so?" Thankfully, he moved away from her, although he still addressed her. "Perhaps you are looking for some holiday gifts for your friends? I have a wide variety of wares to suit anyone."

"I...uh...don't think that's necessary," she stammered, trying to discretely inch towards the door. This man was decidedly creepy, and it now made sense to her why no one was in the shop.

"Nonsense," he said. "I have something for everyone. Come here." His tone of voice made it clear it was a demand, not a request, and not wanting to offend him, Hermione reluctantly approached where he was standing beside a glass case, and gasped.

The object in the case was a beautiful ivory hand mirror. Golden engraving swirled in floral patterns over the handle and around the oval mirror. Three small black jewels sat in the middle of the handle, and above the reflective surface, a word was written in golden cursive: 'Achieve'. Instantly, she knew it was perfect for Padma.

"What is it?" she asked, before feeling foolish. It was obviously a mirror, although the man smiled.

"This is the mirror of Imelda Woodville," the man replied, his voice oily. "You will notice, if you look around my store, that I have amassed a large collection of heirlooms once owned by the Founders and their descendants. Imelda Woodville was said to be a descendant of both Ravenclaw and Slytherin, and this mirror is the result of such traits." He studied her for a moment, before saying, "Are you familiar with the Mirror of Erised, my dear?"

The name didn't ring any bells in Hermione's mind, so she shook her head.

"Ah. Imelda Woodville created both this mirror and the Mirror of Erised. Both show your heart's true desires, but this mirror continues one step further." He lovingly caressed the glass case and revealed, "The one who looks in this mirror will see, not just her desires, but how to achieve them, with the wisdom of Rowena herself. A fitting gift for your Ravenclaw friend."

That caused Hermione to stare at him. "How did you know-"

"The price of this mirror is - ahem - quite high considering it is an heirloom, but for a little witch such as yourself, I can be tempted to lower it," he continued as if he hadn't heard her. "Allow me to show you another object, before we discuss price."

She hadn't even mentioned that she had an interest in buying the mirror, but she couldn't deny that Padma would love it. The price tag had said 100 galleons, though - well above what her parents had given her.

"Now this," the man informed her, coming to a stop in front of a shelf, "is no Founders' heirloom, but is valuable nonetheless." He gestured for her to look at the object, and she saw that it was a book; a very thick book, in fact. It looked so ancient that just touching it would probably turn it to dust. The book's cover, a plain black, had no writing on it.

"How old is this?" Hermione asked in awe.

"It was written in the mid 1600s," the man replied, watching her reaction. "Specifically, 1655-1664 during a period of English witch hunts. It is the combined diary of one Pontus Malfoy, Corvus Black and Augustus Longbottom, a small group of wizards masquerading as Muggles during this time."

Her mouth fell open. There was no way this was a coincidence, and this was getting stranger and stranger. "Just wait a second, how are you-"

"I can see that this item interests you," he said with a smug smile, once again ignoring her. "Very well then; for this item and the mirror, both of which I have priced at 100 galleons, I will only charge you 50 combined."

Hermione was momentarily distracted from all the questions cropping up in her mind by the outrageous price he had just offered her. Two rare items, with a combined price of 200 galleons - for 50?

"Why are you selling them for so cheap?" Hermione asked suspiciously.

The man smiled at her, although it did not reach his eyes. "I have a soft spot for little girls who love antiquities as I do." He began to take a pair of gloves out of his pocket, and said, "Now, let us get these out of their cases, shall we?"

Twenty minutes later, Hermione was closing the door of Morgenbrook's behind her. In her hands were her two new purchases, in complementary bags the man had assured her would stop them from being damaged. While she was happy with what she had gotten her two best friends, she couldn't shake the feeling that something had been seriously off about the man, the shop, and the experience in general. As soon as she had started to question him, he had shoved the items in her hands, taken her money, thrown her out the door and announced the shop closed.

It was by far the strangest encounter she had had in a while, but there would be time to dwell on it later. Looking at her watch, she realised that her hour alone was almost up, and it was time to meet Neville and Padma at the Three Broomsticks.

Walking down Hogsmeade's main street, Hermione was so lost in her thoughts that she almost didn't turn when she heard her name being called.

"Granger!"

"Shoot," she cursed as she almost tripped over her own two feet, before looking around for the cause of her clumsiness. The street was still packed with holiday shoppers.

"Over here, eager beaver!"

Eager beaver. Only one person called her that, and she turned to her left with a glare.

In the dark alleyway between Scrivenshaft's and Gladrags, a group of students had clustered in a small circle. Most had their backs towards her, obviously watching something, but one was looking at her with a smarmy grin on his face, his pale blonde hair instantly identifying him to her. He had a look on his face which she just knew spelt trouble.

"We've got a show going on here, Granger, and I have a hunch you might want to have a watch," Malfoy taunted her. Hearing her name, the girl beside Malfoy spun around, revealing herself to be Pansy Parkinson. She only gave a cruel little smile at Hermione, but it was that which caused Hermione to run towards the alley.

Please don't let it be Neville and Padma, please don't let it be Neville and Padma…

She shoved the people in the circle out of the way, and boiled with anger at what she saw. Her two friends had had their hands bound and their mouths gagged, and were currently under Cepheus Lestrange's Tarantallegra. Their faces were extremely red, anger and embarrassment etched clearly on their faces, as they were forced to dance uncontrollably for the rest of the students, who she now noticed almost all sported the Slytherin tie.

"Stop it!" she shouted, whipping out her wand. She quickly countered the spell, causing her two friends to fall to the ground. The Slytherins made no move to stop her, enraging her more, and she fell to her knees beside them, severing the binds on their hands.

"Hermione!" Padma said, relief flooding her face. "I'm so glad you're here, they cornered us while we were coming out of-" She abruptly stopped, causing someone behind them to snort.

"Good gods, don't tell me you two haven't told the swot about your little love affair?" Parkinson asked with glee. "Oh, this is too good… if we hadn't caught you two coming out of Puddifoot's, she never would have known, would she?"

Padma said something back, but Hermione didn't hear. She had had enough of these stupid Slytherins. She wasn't second in their grade for nothing, and she was about to show them what being sorted into Gryffindor really meant. "Shut up, Parkinson!" Hermione hissed, eyes blazing at what they had done to her friends. She pointed her wand at the girl. "One more word and I'll-"

"You'll what?" Aquila Lestrange cut in, smirking beside her brother. She twirled her wand in one hand and held two more in her other, which she recognised to be Padma and Neville's. "It's one against...hmm, ten, it seems. Not very good odds, now is it?" she said in a condescending tone.

"Why are you doing this?" came Neville's shout, before Hermione could reply. "Potter already told your house to stop with the pranks-"

"You think this is about some stupid Quidditch match and a misplaced sense of heroics in Potter's name?" Malfoy sneered. "I think you've mistaken us for a bunch Gryffindor hotheads. This isn't about avenging Potter." His stare settled firmly on Hermione. "This is about teaching the scum of our world their place."

With that declaration, the first spells flew. Hermione had to get Neville and Padma's wands back, and with a quick 'Expelliarmus!' aimed at Aquila, three wands flew towards her. Her two friends managed to grab their wands and scrambled up, Padma throwing a 'Tarantallegra' back in Cepheus' face.

"You'll pay for that, Granger!" Aquila screeched, though Hermione paid no attention to her. "No Mudblood takes a wand off a witch!"

The three of them needed to get out of the alley and into the street, where people would be able to see them and where the Slytherins wouldn't dare to attack them. She had wondered why no one had noticed the shouting and fighting in here earlier, but it was obvious that one of the Slytherins - probably Cepheus, who was the oldest in the vicinity and thus had the power to - had cast a Notice-Me-Not charm on the area. Before she could try disarming Malfoy and Parkinson, though, a voice spoke out - one she had never been more glad to hear.

"What's going on here?"

Harry Potter and Aurigan Black stood at the entrance to the alley, both with their wands drawn, looking ready to hex anyone at any second. She was glad to note that their wands were trained on the Slytherins, though.

"Nothing that concerns you, Potter, Black," Malfoy said with nonchalance, his eyes narrowed at the two boys. "Leave us be."

Black looked ready to retort, but Potter was the one who replied. "On the contrary, I think a whole group of Slytherins attacking three Gryffindors in an alley only covered with a poorly-executed Notice-Me-Not is definitely my business. What happened to subtlety?"

"And no one hurts Gryffindors without going through me," Black added, bravado in his eyes.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Potter, take your puppy and get out of here. Us real Slytherins have a job to do - it's called 'teaching this dirt some manners'."

"You wish," Hermione spat, still on guard.

"Shut it, Mudblood," Parkinson growled.

Potter paid no attention to them, his eyes trained on Malfoy. His position was casual, and there was no hint in his body language that this was anything other than a friendly chat. "The rules of Slytherin are quite clear, Malfoy, and this display," he put emphasis on the last word, "is definitely in breach of at least three of them. I'm sure Professor Snape and...other...parties have made it quite clear what the penalties for such breaches are?" His expression was cold in a way she had only ever seen mirrored in his step-father.

Hermione was shocked to see Malfoy pale. The other Slytherins shifted uneasily.

"There's no need for that, Potter," Cepheus Lestrange said, his tone light. The way he was looking at Potter, though - with rage - showed otherwise. "We'll be off."

"Don't forget to spread the Christmas cheer," Black snarked at them, with a fake smile on his face as the Slytherins filed past them. Malfoy glared at Hermione and her friends, before stalking off with Parkinson in tow.

As soon as they were gone, Hermione turned to Neville and Padma. "Are you two okay?" she demanded, her voice still unnaturally harsh. When they winced, she muttered, "Sorry. I just can't believe they tried to pull this off in Hogsmeade of all places!"

"Yeah, we're fine," Neville replied. "Or I am, at least." Hermione didn't miss his hand, which placed itself on the small of Padma's back in a comforting gesture. "Padma?"

"I'm fine," the other girl sighed, anger in her eyes. "My dignity might not recover, though. Being at the mercy of the Slytherins...I hate them!"

"Woah, woah, woah," Black interjected from behind them. "Aside from my man Potter here, I hope?"

Hermione turned and looked at their two 'saviours'. Black arched an eyebrow at her cockily, but Potter was more reserved. There was no smile on his face, but the hard glint in his eyes had softened considerably.

"Thanks Potter," she nodded to him. "We probably wouldn't have made it out unscathed if it hadn't been for you." Perhaps not all Slytherins were bad, she decided. As Black whined in the background ("Hey, don't I get any credit at all?"), she asked him, curiosity tingeing her voice, "How did you find us? I was sure the Slytherins had cast a 'Notice-Me-Not on the area."

"Oh they did," he replied, a small measure of amusement in his voice. "They're not completely stupid. We wouldn't have even noticed, if Riddle hadn't mentioned a whole bunch of Slytherins waiting outside Puddifoot's for someone. He would've come himself, but there were a couple of Firsties in a fight near the Broomsticks."

"Truly the festive season, eh?" Black chuckled, but Hermione was no longer listening.

Riddle. Somehow, Riddle was involved in all of this... but he had intended to save them? Why would he do that, if he was the Heir of Slytherin?

Luckily, the Christmas holidays - and thus her two weeks with Slytherin's Heir-and-apparent-resident-Hufflepuff - began tomorrow. She'd have to wait to get some answers until then.

Someone was batting her face, and it was waking her up from a lovely dream involving her, Professor McGonagall and a letter containing perfect O.W.L scores.

"Leave me alone, Lavender," she mumbled, squeezing her eyes tight as she tried drearily to move her hand from the incoming swats. "No, seriously - I'm having a good dream for once, so let me bask in the rarity of this wondrous occasion, okay?"

"Meow," Lavender replied, and Hermione stopped moving abruptly. That certainly was not Lavender Brown. She cracked a single eye open, and was met with the ugly mug of her favourite ginger.

"Meow," Crookshanks growled. He swatted her face again, unfortunately catching her in the eye.

"Ow!" Hermione flung him away from her, and he landed at the foot of her bed, looking grumpy. "What was that for?"

Crookshanks jumped off the bed with an air of wounded dignity, and began making his way to the dorm door. That was when Hermione noticed the empty beds all around her, the unslept-in beds and the uncharacteristic silence in the dorm. With an intake of breath, she suddenly remembered hugging Neville and Padma goodbye and the quiet dinner she had had in a near-empty Great Hall the night before.

An excited sheen entered her eye. The holidays had begun.

A/N:

I am so sorry.

I'm not going to churn out excuses because really, there's no excuse for not having updated for so long. All I can say is that real life things are what have kept me away (don't they always?) but this story is in no way abandoned, and I'm thankful for all of you who have read it, followed it, favourited it and took the time to review. What kind of author would I be if I abandoned this just when everything's about to start? And believe me, everything is about to start.

This chapter is filler-y (and I know you didn't wait four months for a filler), but I've dropped hints as to what's going to happen in the next chapters, which has me excited. The Christmas holidays are coming up, which should be cause for lots of Tomione action plus some new acquaintances and friends to be introduced, such as the family of a certain lightning-scarred Slytherin. ;) Fun stuff.

Once again, I'm grateful for those who have stuck with this, and I'm sorry for my erratic updating. You guys will love next chapter, though, I promise!

~ Philaria