'I can't believe a dark wizard made it into the castle,' Jane said with obvious dismay several mornings later. The latest Daily Prophet was open across her breakfast, and Maura watched from across the Ravenclaw table as Jane's eyebrows furrowed and her eyes continued to scan back and forth across the article.

DARK WIZARD APPREHENDED AT LAST
Danny "Boy" Flannigan, wanted by the Ministry of Magic since the end of the Second Wizarding War, was taken into custody last Saturday around noon by a team of highly trained Aurors. Those members of the Auror Office assisting in the arrest wish to thank Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry Headmaster Sean Cavanaugh, Head of Gryffindor House and Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor Vince Korsak, and Hospital Wing Healer Hope Martin for immobilising the offender in the first instance, and alerting the authorities. Flannigan, believed to be working alone, succeeded in gaining access to the Hogwarts grounds and castle during the school's first Quidditch match of the season this past Saturday. It is thought that Flannigan intended to grievously harm Headmaster Cavanaugh, out of a remaining absurd and ill-gotten sense of allegiance to the long-dead Dark Lord Voldemort. Hogwarts School, which is protected at a minimum by an abundance of spells and enchantments designed to keep out intruders, was accessed illegitimately by Flannigan through an old secret underground tunnel used by the resistance during the Death Eaters' occupation of the castle around 1997 to smuggle in medical supplies. Information regarding this passageway remains sketchy, as do the details surrounding who had knowledge of it, and who is responsible for failing to have it closed off or filled in after its purpose had been served. There is also extremely strong suspicion that Flannigan intended to gain access to Cavanaugh earlier in the year by the same route, but encountered the previous Hospital Wing Healer, Pike, and abandoned his original plan after performing a Killing Curse on the Healer. Daniel Flannigan will be tried before the Wizengamot on the first day of December for second degree murder and trespass in addition to resisting arrest and the crimes he is expected to be found guilty of in conjunction with the Irish mobsters.

'Do you know what this means?' Jane folded the paper away and abjectly stabbed at her pancakes.

'That you have to accept the offer of the first person who asks you to the Noel Ball this year,' Maura replied brightly, neatly removing a fresh green grape from the bunch on her plate and popping it into her mouth with a grin.

Jane scowled, though Maura recognised that this was a good-natured scowl. 'I was hoping you'd forgotten about that.'

'I'm unlikely to forget such a bold statement in so few as four days,' Maura reminded her. 'Do you feel uneasy about having been in such close proximity to a killer?'

'No, I just can't believe that Hogwarts has been open for anybody to just waltz on in for so long. This tunnel thing, it's been around since before the end of the war!'

'That is quite disconcerting,' Maura admitted, ceasing to chew momentarily. 'Though I feel sure Headmaster Cavanaugh knew about it, and he evidently didn't judge it to be a concern for staff or student safety. It hasn't been an issue until now.'

'Yeah, but if it was Flannigan who killed Pike when he was trying to get to Cavanaugh, why didn't Cavanaugh close off the Tunnel then?' Jane refuted. 'He pretty much gave the scumbag another shot, and he took it! What if he'd killed Healer Martin this time?'

'That is odd,' Maura agreed. 'And does seem to be lacking the defensive strategies you would expect from an experienced Auror. Perhaps he didn't know about the tunnel's existence after all?'

'He was around during the Second Wizarding War, though,' Jane frowned. 'Fighting for the resistance. He must have had some kind of inkling it existed. Or maybe he's been using it himself for other stuff… I don't know. This just doesn't add up. My gut feels weird.'

'So are you going to be an Auror, or a professional Quidditch player when you graduate Hogwarts?' Maura asked with a smile.

Jane scoffed. 'Oh, come on, Maur. We both know I don't have the marks, or the brains, for them to even consider putting me through Auror training.'

'That isn't correct,' Maura stated, speaking as though Jane had simply made an error trying to solve a math equation. 'Perhaps you don't have the marks at this particular moment in time, but it won't take much to boost them, and you've still got years! You've got brains, Jane, don't sell yourself short.'

Jane coloured a little at the praise, but recovered her usual air of self-assuredness quickly. 'In that case,' she said confidently with a smirk, 'I intend to do both.'

'Excuse me… Maura? It is Maura, isn't it?'

Maura looked up from the book she was reading in an arm chair in front of the Ravenclaw fire that evening, unfamiliar with the voice requesting her attention. She turned and found the voice belonged to an older boy, tall and lean with flawless Middle Eastern skin and chocolate brown eyes. She remembered seeing him once or twice before; he had been trying to drum up interest in a yoga club he intended to start when they returned from their Christmas break.

'Yes, that's right,' she smiled. 'I'm sorry, I don't know your na-'

'Brock,' he said quickly, extending a hand, and flashing her a charming smile.

'Brock,' she echoed, shaking his hand, surprised to find his palm was a little sweaty. 'It's nice to meet you. How can I help?'

'Well…' Brock began, pausing to sweep a long section of dark fringe out of his eyes. 'I know we haven't really spoken before, but I've seen you around, and…' he stopped again with a groan and a chuckle, briefly hiding his eyes with his palm. 'I thought I'd be better at this. I'd really like the chance to get to know you better, and I was hoping you might come to the Noel Ball with me.'

'Oh!' Maura was surprised. She really hadn't thought a – what was he? Sixth year? Seventh year? – would be interested. He was objectively attractive, she supposed, and at the very least he sounded as though he could hold his own in an intellectual conversation. She was interested in his yoga group intentions. And after all, who else was going to ask her to the Ball? 'Yes,' she decided suddenly. 'I'd like that.'

'Brilliant,' he flashed her another smile of perfect teeth. 'Let me know what colour tie I should get. When you've chosen your outfit, I mean, so we're coordinated.'

'Sure,' Maura nodded, already thinking of Ivor's promise of material imports in Hogsmeade.

'Hey, you're friends with Jane Rizzoli, right? The Gryffindor Beater?'

'That's right,' she nodded, frowning a little. 'Why?'

'I've got a mate in Hufflepuff who's looking for a date to the Ball. I thought you might want to bring a friend along, in case you get bored of me,' he gave a wink. 'If you're not at least fifth year, you can't come unless you're invited, so there probably won't be too many people from your class around. Do you think Jane would go?'

Maura suppressed something between a snort and a giggle. 'If he asks her tomorrow, I'm almost certain she'll say yes.'

'Madam G,' Jane greeted curtly, striding with purpose into the library after second period the following morning. 'Where are the encyclopaedias? I need one.'

'Where's the fire?' Madam Gerritsen peered sceptically at Jane.

'Asked you first,' Jane retorted, earning her a pair of very raised eyebrows from the librarian.

'They're over there,' she indicated a wall. 'But half of them are on reserve and you don't want to know what happens if you attempt to take one of those out of the library without my express permission!'

But Jane was already gone, bee-lining for the thickest book on the shelf and lugging it to the counter.

'Name?' the librarian asked.

'What? You know my name! I've been here three years!'

'I can't issue you a book without verification. Name?'

'Jane Rizzoli,' she rolled her eyes.

Madam Gerritsen pursed her lips, and wrote Jane's name on a card in the back with a special quill. 'This is due back in ten days. Do I need to remind you the penalty for overdue books?'

'I'll have it back by tonight,' Jane tucked the book snugly under her arm and marched out towards the staircases.

'Strange child,' the librarian muttered. 'I don't know wha- Hey! You there! NO WRITING IN LIBRARY BOOKS!'

Jane had well and truly broken a sweat by the time she reached Ravenclaw Tower. Maura, she knew, had a free period, and she intended to take full advantage of that.

She reached the eagle knocker, and held up her encyclopaedia. 'Bring it,' she challenged, panting.

'What will cure all poisons?' the eagle asked her.

'A bezoar!' Jane exclaimed triumphantly. 'Seriously, I lugged this thing all the way up here, and you ask me that?'

She waited impatiently for the door to open, but when nothing had happened after several seconds, she let out a frustrated sigh and slumped down against the wall. 'Look,' she protested, looking up "bezoar" in the index, and flipping to the correct page. '"A bezoar is a stonelike mass taken from the stomach of a goat that acts as an antidote to most poisons, but" oh… "does not work on everything, such as basilisk venom." But then, what cures all poisons?' she frowned.

She spent the next quarter of an hour scanning the miniscule writing in the section on antidotes.

'Is it mandrake?' she looked up at the eagle. 'Mandrake's an ingredient in lots of antidotes.'

But the door stayed fast.

'Ashwinder eggs cure malaria, bubotuber pus cures persistent acne, dittany heals wounds and regrows skin, glumbumble treacle counteracts the effects of alihotsy leaves… Hey, what about phoenix tears? They heal really bad stuff.'

When it was clear she still didn't have the answer, she stood up with a scowl, preparing to leave. 'This is stupid. I don't think there's one thing anywhere on the planet that will cure everything. If you had a phoenix and a box of bezoars maybe you'd be alright, bu- Oh.'

She was now staring at a cavity in the wall: the entrance to the Ravenclaw common room. 'Fuck Ravenclaw and its trick questions,' she grumbled, stepping over the threshold, though the annoyance had left her voice.

She crept up the stairs to the common room, unable to shake the feeling of intrusion, though she'd technically gained entrance fair and square. Maura was sitting near to the windows, frowning slightly in concentration as she worked on what Jane assumed was Arithmancy. Jane made her way quietly over to her friend, and didn't speak until she was behind Maura with her lips inches from her ear. 'Maura Dorothea Isles,' she spoke in a low voice.

Maura startled quite spectacularly, and actually lost contact with her seat for a fraction of a second as she jumped in fright.

'Jane!' she exclaimed, placing a hand over her racing heart. 'What on earth are you doing, sneaking up on me like that?'

'Three words, Maur,' Jane perched herself on edge of the adjacent empty armchair and narrowed her eyes. 'Jorge the Hufflepuff.'

Maura looked guiltily at the ceiling before giving Jane a hopeful grin. 'Does that mean you're going?'

Jane sniffed and narrowed her eyes. 'Only because I hate going back on my word more than I hate the idea of going to a Ball.'

Maura clapped her hands in delight. 'You know it wasn't actually my idea, Jane. It was Brock's. I just said you were likely to say yes if Jorge asked you.'

'Who the heck is Brock?'

'Jorge's friend. He asked me to the Ball last night.'

A strange look crossed over Jane's face for a split second, but Maura blinked and it had disappeared. 'And you said?'

'I said yes. I quite like dancing, you know.'

'Someone'd better spike the punch,' Jane scowled.

'How did Jorge ask you?'

'He accosted me after first period. He said, and I quote: "You're Jane Rizzoli, the Gryffindor Beater, aren't you? I like a strong woman. Your friend Maura said you might let me take you the Noel Ball. Would you like to go with me?" And I mumbled yes, and then ran to second period. And at least three people heard.'

Maura tried to gulp back an amused laugh, but was only partly successful. 'I'm sorry, Jane. Jorge was looking for a date, and Brock pointed out that it might be nice for me to have a friend close by, since not many third years will be going.'

'How thoughtful of him. You know what's going to happen? You and Prince Charming are going to spend the entire evening twirling around the dance floor, Jorge's going to ask me to dance, quickly discover a racing broom has a better sense of rhythm, and then we're going to spend the rest of the night making obligatory small talk over flutes of butterbeer. It's going to be a disaster.'

'What are you planning to wear?'

'My Quidditch kit. Jorge seems to like that. Maybe I will take a broom for him to dance with.'

'Jane, don't be ridiculous. You'll be denied entry if you arrive wearing that.'

'All the better!'

'I'm going to send an owl to Ivor in Gladrags Wizardwear in Hogsmeade and request he supply some sample materials for us to browse on Sunday. Then you're going to choose your fabric, and then we're going to make an appointment with a dressmaker and have some gowns made up.'

'Maura! There's no way I can afford t-'

'My gift to you,' Maura cut her off. 'Since you wouldn't be in this situation if it weren't for me. About that encyclopaedia… did you bring it to help you with the riddle?'

'Yes, though it didn't help me this time, either.'

'You've tried to get in here before? What did the eagle ask you?'

'"Is the quill mightier than the sword?" I said no, because, duh, it's a feather versus a blade of sharpened steel, but it wouldn't let me in.'

Maura gave a chuckle. 'You're such a Gryffindor, Jane.'

'Are you seriously going to tell me that the answer is a feather?'

'It could be either, so long as you back it up with reason. For example, Voldemort technically used nothing more than a quill to communicate and essentially possess Harry Potter's wife Ginny when she was a student here, through his diary horcrux. There was plenty of violence later of course, but virtually no force at all was used to gain power over her mind. A sword couldn't have done that.'

A somewhat pained expression came over Jane's face. 'Sometimes I'm so glad I'm not a Ravenclaw. Having to have deep thoughts is such bullshit when you just want to go to bed after a long day and you can't even get into your own common room.'

Maura just chuckled with amusement. 'Having deep thoughts isn't so bad, Jane! What do you think about before you fall asleep, if not concepts like power, or the meaning of life?'

Your smile in the morning, Jane thought. 'I don't know,' she shrugged. 'Breakfast, most nights. What do you think about?'

Maura paused briefly to think. 'Last night I was thinking again how fascinating it is that humankind has managed to create a kind of artificial infinity through the invention of numbers.'

Jane felt the corners of her mouth turn skyward in the beginnings of a grin. 'Never change, Maur.'

Maura was to hear her name called in a stranger's voice for the second time that week at Friday breakfast.

Jane, sitting opposite her, forcefully swallowed a mouthful of cheese roll because saying disdainfully, 'There's a Slytherin behind you.'

Maura turned around in surprise, and found Gabriel Dean standing there, caught off guard as he straightened his tie.

'Uh, hey Maura,' he greeted as smoothly as he could muster. 'I'm Dean.'

'His name's Gabriel,' Jane corrected, successfully decimating the remainder of her roll.

'Gabriel Dean,' he acknowledged. 'You don't know me very well yet, but I was wondering how you would feel about me taking you to the Noel Ball.'

'She's spoken for,' Jane dismissed him immediately. 'By a sixth year.'

'I'm sorry, Gabriel,' Maura apologised. 'Thank you for your offer, but I've already accepted an invitation.'

'My loss,' he gave a smile that looked a little forced. 'I guess I'll see you around?'

Maura nodded, and the boy in green retreated. 'Jane, you were so rude to him!'

'He's such a slimeball,' Jane made a face. 'My parents know his parents, and Ma's always trying to set me up with him. He licked my face once when I was seven for a dare,' she mimed a vomit.

'That was quite a long time ago!'

'Yeah, I know, but… Hey, look, post!'

Owls suddenly flooded into the Great Hall and began dropping packages and letters onto the breakfasters. Maura watched with amusement as one poor confused owl swooped back and forth between the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw tables, unsure where to deposit the brown paper box labelled "Rowan & Runa Silk-Ashby". Rowan, deep in a Quidditch tactic discussion with Bek, was completely oblivious to the owl's distress, and Runa eventually stood up and plucked the package out of the air to rescue the poor bird. Maura stopped laughing in surprise as a tawny owl neatly dropped a letter next to her bowl of fruit and soared off towards the owlery.

'Who's that from?' Jane asked curiously. 'This is like, the second letter you've had all year.'

'Yes, I know,' Maura flipped over the envelope, and recognised the wax seal before she saw the sender's details written in perfect quillmanship. 'From my mother.'

Dearest Maura, she read, after taking the time to carefully open the envelope.

I am writing to discuss with you your father's and my plans for Christmas this year. As I am sure you are aware, your father is now head of his department at St. Mungo's, and one of the most experienced Healers on his team has recently gone on indefinite leave after suddenly losing her husband and three children to a tragic accident. He has advertised the vacancy, but does not feel confident that the position will be filled so close to the holiday season. Accordingly, if he cannot get sufficient staffing he will need to fill the shifts himself, which will mean dreadfully long hours at the hospital.
As for myself, I will be spending Christmas with my sister in Milan, where there is a very prestigious art exhibition. You are most welcome to join me, though I know you don't get on well with your cousin Emmett. You are of course also most welcome to return home. Your father is likely to be there only seldom, but Damascus will cook and clean for you, and ensure you are well looked after. I see also that Hogwarts allows students to remain at the castle over the Christmas holidays, so by all means stay if this option appeals to you.
It's up to you my darling, let me know what you decide.

Love,
Mother.

'Bad news?' Jane asked with concern, having watched Maura's face morph from excitement to comparative dismay over the course of the single-page letter.

'Nothing terribly drastic,' Maura shook her head. 'I just think I may be spending Christmas alone this year.'

'What?!' Jane's mouth dropped open in shock. 'Why? That's awful! Can I read?'

Maura shrugged and nodded before handing over the parchment. She watched the growing look of indignation on Jane's face with a small smile, feeling quite sure that Jane's parents were polar opposites of her own.

'Okay, um, first,' Jane handed back the letter, 'Your mum writes like, crazy formal. Second, I can't believe one of your options is to spend the holidays with a house elf. And third, you don't have to say yes, but do you want to come and have Christmas at my house? If you don't want to go to… where was it? Milan?'

'What?' Maura looked up in shock. 'No, no, Jane, I would hate to be an imposition. You don't have to pity me, I'm quite accustomed to being on my own.'

'I'm not pitying you, you wouldn't be an imposition, Ma loves you, and it'd be really cool to have you over. It's just three weeks, Maur.'

'But, Jane, Christmas is when you're supposed to be with your family! I don't want to intrude on that, especially on Christmas Day when you're all opening presents and celebrating the holiday.'

'There's a bit of crazy religious stuff in the morning,' Jane admitted. 'And on Christmas Eve. But I just kinda sleep through it. As for presents, Ma knits us horrible Christmas jumpers, and I'll bet my Quidditch boots you'll get one too. We're not huge on the present thing, but we're pretty huge on the food. We usually do a combined lunch with a couple of other wizarding families in the area, so there'll be a ton of non-family members in the house on Christmas Day anyway. It won't be weird, Maur, I promise. I'll write to Ma today and let her know you're coming, if you want. Will you come? I'd like it if you came.'

Maura was quiet for several seconds, desperately searching Jane's face for any minute trace of insincerity, or obligatory kindness. But there was only a slightly goofy, hopeful look, and the wonderfully warm feeling of friendship that Jane somehow managed to instantly and automatically cast over her like a winter cloak.

'Are you sure?' she asked, one last time, just to be safe.

She received an exaggerated eye roll for her efforts. 'Yes, I'm sure.'

'Then yes, please, I would love to spend the holiday period with you. But please make sure your parents are okay with having me stay. I don't want to reply to my mother until I'm sure of my plans.'

'Sure thing,' Jane nodded, immediately bending to delve into her backpack, and emerging victorious with a matted quill and semi-crumpled sheet of parchment.

'Dear Ma,' she read aloud as she wrote, and then paused to spread generous amounts of cream and strawberry jam across a pancake.

'I wanted to check with you that it's okay if my friend Maura who you met in Hogsmeade comes to spend the holidays with us. Her dad is going to be working extra hours at his job, and her mum is going to Italy and not many people stay at Hogwarts over Christmas. She's really tidy and won't be any trouble. And I'll be less annoying if I have a friend.

Love,
Jane.'

Maura smiled at the last line. 'Please add in that she's under no obligation to say yes, and that I completely understand if she'd rather not have me stay.'

'Waste of ink,' Jane shook her head, standing up and taking her pancake. 'She'll say yes. I'm going to post it now.'

Hope sat at the High Table, chewing a spoonful of muesli three times longer than was necessary as she stared seemingly at nothing. Next to her, the Prophet was open on an article speculating what Cavanaugh's motives might have been for leaving the Tunnel of Hope open all these years. She couldn't bring herself to read that, though; instead, she was busy trying not to constantly rake her eyes up and down the Ravenclaw table. She wasn't doing a very good job of restraining herself, however, and at mealtimes often caught her eyes searching desperately for Maura as though the unsuspecting girl was her sole source of oxygen renewal. Hope remembered their only encounter thus far; she was the strange American-sounding girl with the telescopes. The Healer craved an excuse to speak to her, but the girl seemed as healthy as ever, and would have no reason to visit the hospital wing. Even now, as Jane Rizzoli stood up from the table and headed out of the Great Hall with a mouthful of pancake, Maura was breakfasting on fruit and muesli. Hope looked down suddenly at her own bowl, and wondered how alike they really were.

She couldn't believe Paddy had done this to her. Denied her her own child? Led her to believe her baby was dead? She had been young when Maura was born, that was true, but her daughter had always been wanted. Paddy hadn't wanted his father or the mob to know about Maura's birth, and so Hope had had to grieve her loss in private. And now, more than a decade later, she was having to grieve that same loss in a way she had never suspected. Yet again, she was devoid of a shoulder to cry on, left to soldier on like her entire world had never been tilted off its axis. She needed to talk to Paddy, to eke out some reason for this needless rubble of hopes and dreams. But she had resolved not to speak to him until her head was clear. At the moment, though, she felt as though that might never occur: her head was swimming, and she was walking around in a daze. Her mind sped like a merry go round, systematically offering her shards of memory. Every year, kneeling at a grave she now knew was empty, holding a cold baby she now realised Paddy must have charmed, sobbing relentlessly into her mother's cloak, listless months spent in bed. And then Healer training, with that brief moment upon graduating top of her class where she was glad she had not had the burden of raising a child throughout her study.

Suddenly washed in guilt, Hope stood and quickly removed herself from the High Table, walking as fast as she could without running towards the sanctuary of her office. Maura, still at the breakfast table, watched the Healer's abrupt departure with curiosity.