Disclaimer: The Four Principle Exceptions to Copyright Law do not include Harry Potter, so thanks to JK Rowling for not suing us all.

A/N: Credit to Pahan for the "Eigen" idea. I actually don't have a problem with the term "eigenvector", but it was to good to pass up.

Chapter 3 of A Little Child Shall Lead Them is now up.

Chapter 50

At first, Rebecca Gamp thought that she was having a good day. After ploughing through a lot of that linear algebra stuff that Granger had been working on, putting in a lot of time and effort and working at top speed, Professor Vector had told her that she was welcome to attend their independent study session that afternoon. Unfortunately, she was soon to learn just how hard to keep pace it really was.

Granger, of course, started right in: "Well, I can imagine that eigenvectors would be a big help in finding invariant terms in transfiguration spells—" She stopped because Rebecca had started giggling. "What is it?"

"Oh, nothing," Rebecca smiled. "It's just that 'Eigen-Vector' sounds like a trashy romance novel."

Professor Vector blushed furiously, and Granger looked between the two of them, confused. "I'm sorry, I think I'm missing something," she said.

Once Vector got herself under control, she explained, "About a century ago, there was a brilliant German arithmancer named Siegfried Eigen, who was the first person to apply these techniques to spellcrafting. He proved that the five principle exceptions to Gamp's Law, which were already known at the time, were characteristic vectors—what he called 'eigenvectors' of the matrix expansion for the General Transfiguration Spell."

"Really? But I thought 'eigen' just meant 'own' in German," Granger said.

"Only a lucky coincidence," Vector said. "Eigen started publishing some of his results in the muggle journals, in violation of the Statute of Secrecy. The German Ministry tried to cover it up, but unfortunately, by then David Hilbert had picked up the terminology, and it stuck in the muggle world. We still speak of characteristic vectors and characteristic roots here."

"Of course, not to be outdone, my great-grand-aunt, Hesper Gamp Black, came back and proved that the list of five exceptions is not complete," Rebecca said proudly. "There's at least one more left to be found."

"Yes, arithmancers have been searching for a hundred years for a sixth exception to Gamp's Law. There are a number of theories, but none has been proved," Vector said.

Granger was eagerly taking notes, no doubt wondering if she could solve the problem. "Hesper Gamp Black?" she said interestedly.

"Oh, right," Rebecca grumbled. She considered not saying anything, but really, it shouldn't matter, she thought. "Well, if you must know, Hesper was great-grandmother to Sirius Black."

"You're related to Sirius Black?" she said, wide-eyed.

"Don't look so surprised, Granger. All the old pureblood families are related. Your pal Weasley is related to him at the same level I am."

"He is? He never mentioned it."

"He might not even know. The Weasleys aren't known for caring about that sort of thing. Anyway, we're here for arithmancy, aren't we?"

"We are, Miss Gamp," Vector said. "I thought we should take a look at how characteristic vectors assist in constructing more specific transfiguration spells."

With that, they were off to the races, especially Granger. Rebecca had seen the younger girl's proficiency with arithmetic, but this was a whole other league. She skipped through the material, making logical leaps at a blinding speed, so that that she even had to explain them to Professor Vector at times.

The basic concept of characteristic vectors was that if you took a two-dimensional image (although it would work in any number of dimensions) and stretched and squeezed it in various ways, the directions in which it was stretched and squeezed were the characteristic vectors—what the muggles annoyingly called eigenvectors. The characteristic vectors never changed direction, while all of the other vectors did, which made them essential for understanding certain types of spells.

The hard part—the part that Rebecca couldn't quite wrap her head around, was the fact that if you rotated the image instead, so that all of the vectors changed direction, there were still eigenvectors, but they were imaginary. She could do the maths and get the right answers, but she couldn't just see it like Granger apparently could, to hear her talk about it. Even though she made some useful contributions to the discussion, she couldn't help feeling like a third wheel—like she was holding them back—her! She might still have written it off, though, if it weren't for a conversation that Granger and Vector had near the end of the session.

"Professor McGonagall tells me you're staying for Christmas," Vector said. "How are you going to finish the linear algebra course?"

"I'll just write to Professor Tremaine and ask him to send me a final exam. If you'd be willing to proctor it over the holiday?"

"Of course—"

"Final exam?" Rebecca blurted. "You're taking the final in this stuff already."

Granger actually looked surprised at the question. "Yes," she said, "I do two of these courses a year through a correspondence program with a muggle university. That's how those degrees usually work—you'd call them masteries."

Rebecca paled a bit. "Two a year?" she said. "How can you do that? I had to skim over a lot of this stuff just to catch up with you."

"But you started late in the term, Rebecca. You're doing fairly well considering we've only covered the basics of matrices in class. If you want, I can ask Professor Tremaine if he's willing to send you the materials to do the full course in the spring."

Rebecca bristled. She didn't appreciate being patronised. "And what will you be doing?"

"I'm not sure yet. I'll have to ask Professor Tremaine what he recommends I study next."

"Well, when you decide, let me know," Rebecca said haughtily. "I think I'll just carry on with these notes for now…Seriously, do you think you're going to be some super-Arithmancer, doing all this stuff?"

Granger just shrugged: "I don't know that I'm particularly trying to be anything yet. I just think that arithmancy is fascinating, and I want to keep studying it."

Rebecca Gamp harrumphed and went away from that meeting sulking. She was smart enough to know it would be almost impossible for her to catch up with Granger. That girl was too bloody fast. With linear algebra, she could, but Merlin knew what Granger would pull out of her hat next. She'd already been studying calculus for two years, after all. True, Rebecca was two years ahead of her in her other classes and was probably even a better spellcrafter right now because of that, but it was only a matter of time before Granger left her in the dust, and worse, Granger knew it. Maybe she didn't flaunt it, exactly. Maybe she really did only care about it academically. Maybe she was even trying to be nice about it and help her out, but it still came off as patronising because she knew just how smart she was. Vector knew it, too, and probably most of the class knew it. And Vector obviously adored her, besides.

Even Roger didn't understand. He liked Arithmancy, but he'd never once thought of pursuing it as a career. People didn't understand how tough it could be. Great-Grand-Aunt Hesper had worked for years to get over being upstaged by Siegfried Eigen and had succeeded. But Granger—Rebecca hated to admit it, but she was in another category entirely. If she kept pushing herself like this, her name would be beside those legends in the textbook someday, and she'd probably make it look easy.

Dear Miss Granger,

Enclosed, please find a copy of the final exam for your linear algebra course, as well as instructions and paperwork for your Prof. Vector. (Is that really her real name?) I am delighted that your course has gone so well thus far, and I am sure you will do well on the final. You've been the talk of the department ever since you first contacted us.

As for your question of what to study next, the most natural course to take after Linear Algebra is Abstract Algebra, which deals mostly with group theory in the first course. This has many important applications in advanced physics. However, the things you wrote to me before, particularly your interest in geometric transformations, suggest that you may prefer to go in a different direction. Therefore, I have also enclosed a leaflet for an excellent textbook on non-Euclidean geometry. This book treats several different types of non-Euclidean geometry in the language of linear algebra and group theory based on Klein's Erlangen Program, and it may also serve as a convenient bridge to Abstract Algebra later on. I hope you find this helpful.

Sincerely,

Prof. Tremaine

"Non-Euclidean geometry?" Hermione mused. She hadn't particularly thought of that one. Universities didn't offer that many geometry courses. But then, she looked around at the walls of Hogwarts—those walls that couldn't exist without bending time and space a little bit—and she smiled. "That could be very useful."

A week before Christmas, and the day before most of the students would be returning home for the holidays, there was another Hogsmeade weekend. And once again, Professor McGonagall informed Harry that he should stay in the middle of the town and avoid the Shrieking Shack.

"But it's okay," he said. "I've got an idea." He pulled out his folded invisibility cloak from under his winter cloak.

"Brilliant!" Ron said.

Hermione smacked her forehead with her hand. "Harry, there's snow on the ground," she said. "Everyone will be able to see your footprints."

"It's okay, Hermione," Ron insisted. "We can walk single file with him in the middle. That way it'll cover his tracks."

She stared at him. That was actually pretty clever—still reckless, but clever. And it didn't look like they were going to back down. "Oh, fine," she huffed, muttering "Boys," as an afterthought.

However, they never got to the Shrieking Shack, due to the very disturbing distraction they heard when they stopped in at the Three Broomsticks for a Butterbeer.

At first, it was a perfectly pleasant day between the fresh air, the snow, and the time spent with friends. Even Hermione was enjoying taking a chance to kick back and relax. But then, to their surprise, the Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge walked into the pub, followed by Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, and Hagrid. They sat at the bar and started chatting up Madam Rosmerta. Seated where they were, directly behind them, Hermione, Ron, and Harry seemed to go unnoticed by them.

"So what brings you to the village, Minister?" Madam Rosmerta said amiably.

"What else, m'dear, but Sirius Black," Fudge replied in a low voice.

Suddenly, quick as a flash, Harry ducked under the table and covered himself with the invisibility cloak before popping back up.

"Harry?" Hermione said in confusion. "He doesn't mean he's here now."

"Shh! I wanna hear what he says about him," Harry replied. "No one will tell me anything."

But by the time it was over, they all wished they hadn't.

When Ron and Hermione pulled the cloak off him, Harry looked like he was in shock, and he would only speak to them in monosyllables. Ron said they should put the cloak back over him until they got back to the castle so that no one would bother him, and even when they got back, they had to lead him on, or he wouldn't do anything.

Ginny bounced up to them happily, oblivious to what had happened. "Hi, guys, how was Hogsmeade," she said. Then, she noticed their faces. "Is something wrong?"

"Not here," Hermione whispered. Ginny followed as they led Harry to an empty classroom. Hermione didn't think he was ready to face the Common Room yet. "Harry is it okay if we tell her?" she asked.

Harry just nodded absently.

"Harry? Harry, what's wrong?" Ginny said worriedly.

"We were in the Three Broomsticks," Hermione said. "And Minister Fudge came in, and we overheard…"

"He was their friend," Harry rasped out suddenly, amd he started to cry. "And he betrayed them…HE WAS THEIR FRIEND!"

"Ahh!" Ginny staggered back in fear. "What is it? I don't understand."

"Sirius Black," Hermione explained. "He was a friend of Harry's parents."

"No!"

"It's true," Ron said. "It was awful. They even made him Harry's godfather. But then…he was the one who betrayed them to You-Know-Who."

"Oh Merlin! He didn't!"

"He did!" Harry growled.

"Are…are you sure?" Ginny said tentatively. "How do they know—?"

"Because he was the only one who could tell!" Harry snapped. "And he meant it, too! That spell…" he trailed off.

Ginny looked back to Hermione in confusion, and she explained, "They used an obscure spell called the Fidelius Charm to hide. It's a way of magically hiding a secret so that only one person can tell it—and Professor Flitwick said it blocks a whole bunch of ways to force it out of someone. He had to choose to give it up."

"Oh, Harry, I'm so sorry!" Ginny threw her arms around his neck without thinking. "I can't believe he did that to you. I thought he was just in there for killing all those people."

"No, that happened after," Hermione said. "Another friend of theirs, Peter Pettigrew, went after Black, but Black…he got the better of him." She remembered Fudge's words clearly, even if she couldn't bring herself to repeat them: "Black cast one curse—one curse so dark even the Unspeakables still don't know what it was—and all that was left of Pettigrew was one finger! His torn robes, and one finger—and those twelve muggles dead with him, and a crater blasted clear down into the sewers."

"But how? How could he do that with one curse?" Ginny said shakily after Harry described it in more colourful terms.

"Probably a spell he got straight from You-Know-Who," Ron said. "Who knows what nasty stuff he had up his sleeve?"

"Are you okay, Harry?" Ginny whispered.

"Do I look like I'm okay?" Harry snapped at her.

"I'm sorry," she squeaked. "Of course you're not okay. But we're here for you, you know that?"

Harry stood up, seemingly ignoring them. "Thanks," he muttered before he wandered out the door without them.

The three of them tried to keep an eye on Harry for the rest of the day. He was going through the motions, but his mind seemed far away, unsurprisingly. Hermione couldn't imagine what he was going through. It was hard enough just to hear it vicariously. Even then, she could see it in her mind when she closed her eyes. When she crawled into bed that night, weary and emotionally drained, she couldn't help imagining Black turning Harry's parents in to Voldemort, both men laughing at their foolishness. She imagined Black chasing after Pettigrew across the country, through fields and country lanes, down city streets and dark alleys, finally cornering him on a crowded thoroughfare, laughing like a maniac, brandishing his wand, and casting a curse at Pettigrew that…

Did what, exactly?

Suddenly, she was wide awake again. It was a valid question. All that was left of Pettigrew, Fudge had said, was his torn robes and one finger. And yet, the blast was powerful enough to kill twelve bystanders and crack open a sewer pipe. That didn't sound like a simple explosion. What mundane blast could destroy a body so completely—almost completely—but still leave identifiable robes behind. If it was a blasting curse, and gruesome as it sounded, there should have been pieces of Pettigrew all over the place. There was magic that could make things go away entirely, but then why the robes and the other twelve bodies? Even if it was some massive, area-effect Vanishing Spell that only worked on living tissue, why the one finger?

The whole thing was academic, of course. Black was a very evil man who had a very evil spell to do it, but like a sum that didn't add up, her brain wouldn't let it go until she'd solved the inconsistency. But as she lay there half the night, nothing came to her.

Well, there was one thing that came to her. Professor Vector had told Hermione long ago that she had taught Harry's mother. And if they were in the same year, she, like many of the other teachers, must have known Sirius Black.

"Hello, Miss Gamp."

Rebecca Gamp looked up from her book in her compartment on the Hogwarts Express and saw Draco Malfoy, of all people, standing in the doorway.

"Mr. Malfoy," she acknowledged carefully. "Can I help you?"

"I just thought I'd drop by for a chat."

Uh oh, Rebecca thought. Draco Malfoy never just drops by for a chat, especially since we've barely even spoken to each other before. "What about?" she asked.

"I saw you in the Three Broomsticks yesterday," he said casually. "I think we were glaring at the same people. Are the Gryffindorks getting to you, too?"

She relaxed a little. At least this wasn't directly about her. "No, only Granger," she said.

"Ah, Granger," Malfoy grumbled. "What's she doing to you?"

"Only being so insufferably smart. Professor Vector's been giving her an independent study in masters-level Arithmancy that I can barely keep up with."

"Yeah, I knew Vector had a soft spot for that mudblood. Some Slytherin she is."

"Hey now, there's no need for that kind of language, Malfoy," Rebecca admonished the younger boy automatically. "But you're right. You should see how Vector fawns over her."

"Disgusting," Malfoy said. "Do you know what she did to me? Aside from hexing me a couple times, she tricked my father into freeing our elf."

"She didn't!" Rebecca gasped. She didn't really care about the Malfoys' personal lives, but that was just bad form.

"She did. And it was also on her word and Potter's that Father was removed from the Board of Governors. Merlin, who does she think she is coming in here like that? I mean, look at you. You come from the best family of spellcrafters in Britain, and she didn't even know magic existed three years ago."

Rebecca shook her head sadly: "It doesn't matter. Granger's smarter than I am, and we both know it."

Malfoy grimaced. He couldn't stand the thought of a mudblood passing up all the purebloods like that, but even he had to face facts. Granger was way out of his league at Arithmancy, and apparently out of Gamp's, too. At least Potter was only average competition for him, and Weasley didn't even take the class. "So what does she think she's gonna do with it, then?" he asked.

"That's the worst part. She's so Ravenclaw about it; she just wants to study it. No ambition at all."

"Well, we can't all be Slytherins. So what're gonna do about it?"

"What can I do? She's got me beat. I can try to catch her, but…Why do you care, anyway?"

Malfoy shrugged his shoulders casually. "Have you considered trying to get her expelled?"

Rebecca's jaw dropped. He couldn't possibly be suggesting… "I'm not evil, Malfoy," she said. "And besides, you'd never be able to do it. Do you remember she's a goody-two-shoes and teacher's pet to boot?"

"I think it's possible," he said. "Granger's a lot more jinx-happy than she used to be, and she's on thin ice from hexing me before. With the right push, she just might fall in. You have to admit, Miss Gamp, getting expelled would slow her down a bit."

Maybe it was a little tempting, but… "Still not evil, Malfoy," she said.

"Just think about it," he said before leaving the compartment.

The next day was a long one. After a rather sleepless night, Hermione, Ron, and Ginny had spent most of the morning trying to convince an even more sleepless Harry that going out looking for revenge on Black would be a monumentally stupid thing to do—the very thing Mr. Weasley had warned him against—the thing that Malfoy had been maliciously trying to goad him into. But all of Hermione's perfectly reasonable arguments fell on deaf ears. And poor Ginny—if it had been anyone but Harry Potter, Hermione was sure the redhead would have slapped him hard in the first ten minutes, but she still wasn't quite over her hero complex.

Ron's attempt to distract Harry by visiting Hagrid was only partially successful. In fact, the only thing it succeeded at was Harry making Hagrid cry, angrily demanding why he'd never told him Black knew his parents. The huge man blubbered that he hadn't wanted to worry Harry about it, and Harry stormed out.

By mid-afternoon, Hermione was starting to get paranoid that Harry might throw on his invisibility cloak and actually try it, dementors or no dementors.

"Harry, please," she heard Ginny plead with him tearfully once more in the empty Common Room. "Even if you find Black, how're you gonna keep him from killing you like he did Pettigrew? He wouldn't even have to hit you. He'd just have to hit near you, and you'd be dead."

"I can sneak up on him. I've got an invisibility cloak, don't I?"

"That Black knows about!" Ron shouted. "Think Harry, that cloak came from your dad. Black's bound to know you have it."

"I've done my thinking, Ron!" Harry yelled back. "I've been doing nothing but thinking since yesterday. I can't just sit here while he's out there!" He started to move.

"Oh for the love of—" Hermione fumed. Suddenly, she drew her wand, whirled on Harry and exclaimed, "Expelliarmus!", pushing as much force as she could into the spell.

Harry went sprawling on the floor, and his wand flew into her hand. Ron and Ginny both gasped. She stood over him as he looked up at her with shock and betrayal. "Harry Potter!" she said. "What did I tell you two years ago?"

"W-what?" he said, his mind spinning.

"When you tried to go after the Philosopher's Stone on your own, what did I tell you?" She was met with confused silence. "I told you, 'If I thought we had the slightest chance, I'd be right there beside you—if only to make sure you didn't get yourself killed.' But your thirteen years old, Harry. You couldn't even stun Black if you met him, let alone kill him. Now, give me a decade to figure out what the hell Black used on Pettigrew and how to counter it, and then we might have a shot, but so help me, I will not let my best friend throw his life away on something that'll only see him getting blown to bits!"

All three of her friends were staring at her in amazement. Ginny broke the silence first: "I'm starting to see why Fred and George say not to make Hermione angry."

"Yeah, sis, she gets scary when she's angry," Ron said.

Harry still looked mutinous.

"Harry, if I give you your wand back, will you not do something stupid?" Hermione asked.

She thought Harry might snap at her, but he took a deep breath and grumbled, "Fine, I won't do something stupid."

"Good. I'm sorry had to hex you, then." She knelt down and handed him back his wand. "You know, Harry, there was a muggle poet named George Herbert who wrote something that I think applies here: 'Living well is the best revenge.' You have a good life, Harry, lousy relatives aside. You've made the most of it despite Black's best efforts. And since any other form of revenge would be suicide at the moment, I think you should make a real effort to embrace that philosophy."

Whether it was because of that last suggestion or because he was cowed by her anger, Harry seemed to stop brooding after that, to the point where Hermione felt safe leaving him to Ron and Ginny and going to her meeting with Professor Vector, which had been rescheduled due to the Hogsmeade trip.

An hour of arithmancy later, Hermione spoke up nervously while they were wrapping up: "Professor, I was wondering if I could ask you something?"

"Of course you can, Hermione. What is it?"

"Did…did you ever teach Sirius Black, ma'am?"

Vector paled. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, it's just that I happened to hear that Black was friends with James Potter, and you mentioned once that you knew him."

"Oh. Not exactly. And I'm not sure if anyone really knew Black. I never taught him myself. He didn't take Arithmancy, but I knew of him. I couldn't believe it when he went dark, though. He always seemed like one of the few good people in his family."

"That's what everyone seems to say, ma'am," Hermione said. "It kind of makes you wonder how long he was a sleeper agent."

"Sleeper agent?"

"An infiltrator who doesn't do anything until a specific time or signal. I don't see how he could have been much of anything else."

"Hmm…no, I suppose not. I don't know what makes a man turn his back on a friend who was literally better than family. His own family couldn't stand him, nor he them, to hear him talk when he finished school."

That was news to Hermione. She couldn't understand it either. That would be like Harry betraying her, Ron, and Ginny. It would be unthinkable—as in she literally couldn't make her brain think it.

"But there was one other thing that didn't make sense to me, ma'am," she continued.

"Oh? And what's that?"

"I'm sorry to be morbid, but…I also happened to find out what happened with Peter Pettigrew, and—"

"Hermione, do you actually go looking for these disturbing stories?" Vector said.

"No, I don't!" she answered truthfully. "It was just by coincidence I found out. But I was just wondering because something doesn't make sense—Ma'am, do you have any idea what spell Black hit Pettigrew with?"

"No, I do not," she said firmly. "And frankly, I'm rather surprised you're interested in knowing."

"I'm not, really. It's just that something doesn't add up, ma'am. They say all they found of Pettigrew was his robes and a finger. But what kind of spell almost completely destroys a body like that, but leaves behind a mostly-intact robe and a finger, especially when it was strong enough to kill twelve bystanders and blast a crater in the street?" She didn't mention her argument with Harry, for which the answer was also relevant.

And with that, Septima Vector started to think. For twelve years, she had simply accepted the eyewitness accounts without question. But Hermione was right. When you pulled on that thread…something didn't seem to add up. "I honestly don't know, Hermione," she said. "It does seem odd…but I don't think it's anything to worry yourself about. Not all of the secrets of the Dark Arts are open to us, and that's probably for the best."

"Yes, Professor," she said. She would do her best to put it out of her mind. Although for Hermione Granger, anything even metaphorically like an unsolved maths problem was an almost irresistible temptation.

On Christmas morning, Hermione and Ginny descended the stairs to meet the boys, hoping for a happy day. Harry's attitude had softened over the course of the week, but there was still a chance he would try to ruin the celebration.

But he seemed to be cheerful this morning, as were Ron as well as the Twins, who had also decided to stick around for the holiday for Harry's and Hermione's sake.

"Hey, Hermione, Ginny, check out Harry's haul," Ron said eagerly. "Mum sent him loads of food." Suddenly, he stopped and blushed when he saw what Hermione was wearing: "Er, Mum sent you a jumper?"

Hermione was indeed wearing a Molly Weasley Christmas jumper, the same as Harry and all the Weasleys. Hers was a light pink similar in colour to the light hooded jumper she'd brought from home, and Lavender and Parvati insisted it went well with her hair. "Yes, she did," she answered. "I was kind of surprised, but I like it."

"You're welcome," said George.

"Excuse me?"

"We thought that after you helped save Ginny—" Fred started.

"—and after certain of our…collaborative projects—" George added.

"—that you should be promoted to an honorary Weasley, just like Harry."

"Mum was happy to make you a jumper."

"Well, thank you," Hermione said. Honorary Weasley was certainly an unusual title, but it was good to know they cared so much. "I see you two swapped jumpers again?" she added, seeing the F and G switched.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Twin with the G said. "I'm Gred, and he's Forge."

"Uh huh. Whatever you say, Fred," Hermione replied.

Harry looked the two twins over: "How can you tell?"

"Easy. Fred is the evil twin, and George is the…less evil twin."

"Ooh, she's on to us, brother," George said.

"We'll have to be more devious, now," Fred replied.

Harry, Ron, and Ginny all laughed. "So did you get anything else good, Hermione?" Harry asked.

"Oh, sure," she smiled. "My parents sent me my new Non-Euclidean Geometry book. And they found this really nice mechanical watch with an alarm and stopwatch on it." She showed off the timepiece. "It can't have been easy to find in a women's size."

Just then, Crookshanks, who had followed her down the stairs, made his move at Ron. Scabbers scrambled out of his pocket and ran across the Common Room with surprising speed.

"Crookshanks, stop!"

"CATCH THAT CAT!"

The Common Room was in chaos with people tripping over each other until both animals were brought back under control. Just another day at Hogwarts.

With the threat of Sirius Black hanging over their heads, the school was exceedingly empty. The six Gryffindors constituted fully two thirds of the students in the castle. At lunch, Dumbledore decided to have all of the students and staff—seventeen in all, sit at one large, round table in the middle of the Great Hall, which was definitely an unusual experience.

Later in the day, once she was sure the cleaning shift would be over, Hermione suggested that they should go and wish the elves a happy Christmas. Fred and George had wandered off to cause more mischief, but she convinced Harry, Ron, and Ginny to come with her.

"Have I ever shown you where the elves live, Ginny?" she asked as they climbed the miniature spiral staircase to reach the space above the Great Hall.

"No, you haven't. You mentioned it, though. It sounds neat."

"Oh, it is. Everything's miniature. I bet a lot of people would be surprised how well the elves live here."

"Yeah, everything's miniature including the ceilings," Ron complained. It was starting to get difficult for him to crawl through the elf-sized corridors.

When they reached the miniature corridor along the bedrooms, they found a number of elves milling about, who greeted them and escorted them to the Common Room. Their tea towels had been charmed red and green for the day.

"Happy Christmas everyone," Hermione called when they entered.

Her reception was still colder than it had been in previous years, although a number of elves still swarmed around all four of them, especially Harry, and led them to seats. However, Hermione was hit by one red and green missile—the only one in normal clothes—as Dobby ploughed into her. "Miss Hermione! Miss Hermione! Happy Christmas! It is being good to see you."

"Happy Christmas, Dobby," she said.

Harry and Ron were quickly seated near Sonya and Tilly, while Ginny was looking around wide-eyed at all the elves and the Common Room that was made to fit them.

"Oh, right," Hermione said. "Everyone, this is Ginny Weasley, Ron's sister."

"Hello, Miss Ginny Weasley," a number of elves called.

The girls took their seats and greeted the other elves at the table. Dobby immediately came back to Hermione with a parcel. "Miss Hermione, Dobby mades these for you," he said timidly.

"Why thank you, Dobby. You didn't have to." She opened the gift, revealing two handmade, woollen socks that only in Dobby's mind could be called a pair. One of them was pink with green Christmas trees on it, while the other was green with little white angels. "Er, thanks. I got something for you, too, Dobby."

Many of the elves stopped and stared at an elf being given a present by a witch, but Dobby looked like he was about to break down in tears as he took it from her hands, and he hugged her in gratitude. Dobby's present was a small package of gobstones. "Just be careful wagering them," Hermione said.

There was a giggle to her right, and Hermione turned to see Sonya's cobalt-blue eyes gleaming mischievously. "Sonya is not thinking that is the best gift, Miss Hermione Granger. Dobby has not had good luck keeping gobstones."

Hermione just smiled and said, "I've brought a present for you, too, Sonya."

Sonya's eyes grew wide as she took her gift. It turned out to be a deck of deluxe Exploding Snap cards…with Anti-Cheating Spells. "Hermione Granger is being a very cheeky witch," she said, "but Sonya is still glad that she remembered her."

"Hello, Miss Ginny Weasley," a tiny voice squeaked. A little elf child less than two feat tall was tugging on Ginny's sleeve.

"Well aren't you adorable," Ginny cooed. "What's your name?"

"I is Smidgen, miss…You is having very pretty hair, miss."

"Why, thank you, Smidgen," Ginny giggled.

Suddenly an adult female elf pulled the tiny girl back. "Smidgen you shoulds not be with Dobby's friends," she whispered.

"But they is nice, Mummy," Smidgen said.

"They is bad influences for young elves."

"Excuse me," Hermione said sharply. "What is your name?"

"I is Speckle, Miss Hermione Granger," the mother elf said in a tone that she had not heard from an elf before. She could only describe it as snippy.

"Well, Speckle, I don't see how we're bad influences," Hermione told her, "especially since none of you had a problem with me my first two year here."

"That was before Dobby, miss," Speckle said.

Hermione sighed. "Dobby, does this still happen a lot?" she said.

Dobby looked reluctant to speak, but he eventually whispered, "Many of the elves is still not liking Dobby very much, Miss Hermione. They does not respect a free elf."

"Hmph." Hermione stood up and addressed the elves: "Listen, I know most of you don't agree with the way Dobby lives his life, but he's still a good elf. He's only here to work, just like the rest of you. His situation is a special case. He's not looking to recruit anyone else, and I'm not looking to free any elf who doesn't want to be freed. That's been my policy since I first came here, and it hasn't changed. You all used to say I was a good friend to elves, and I hope you can accept Dobby and my friends in the same spirit, especially on Christmas."

"See, Mummy? They is nice," Smidgen said. "They is not bad to elves."

Speckle still put up a fuss, but with some further assurances from Tilly, the elf teacher, she allowed Smidgen to join them at their table. She soon got to work plaiting Ginny's hair.

"Sonya, you're okay with Dobby, aren't you?" Hermione asked nervously.

Sonya crossed her arms: "Sonya does not agree with Dobby's life, but Sonya is nice to him for Miss Hermione Granger's sake."

Well, that's better than nothing. "Thank you, Sonya. You know you're still my friend here, right?"

Sonya sighed at the disarming question. "Yes, miss, you has always been a good friend to Sonya."

"Good. Now, do you want to break in those cards?"

They left a little before dinner. Harry and Ron had had a surprisingly good time with the elves, and Ginny seemed to have enjoyed the introduction to their world. By the time they left, her hair was fully braided in a silly, irregular pattern, courtesy of Smidgen.