Christmas drew closer and the weather became even colder. The ice on the lake became thick enough to carry people, something the students noticed with glee. Then, one night, the snow began to fall and in the morning the castle and grounds were covered in a deep, white blanket. Snowball fights started up everywhere, carried out partially with magic. The Weasley twins bewitched some snowballs to follow Professor Quirrell around and bounce off the back of his turban, but the snowballs were traced back to them and they got punished.
The castle itself had become an oversized freezer. Icy winds gushed along the corridors, and the students paid more concentration in Potions on keeping close to the hot cauldrons without burning themselves than on making the potions. Hermione looked up and learned several Warming Charms, but their effects were so short-lived it wasn't really worth casting them.
The holidays were only a few days away. Hermione didn't really know if she should look forward to them. It would undoubtedly be nice to see her family again, but during the past two months Hermione had been happier than ever before. What was worse, the entire family would get together at Christmas and Hermione would have to endure endless questions about school that she couldn't answer, as everyone except her parents thought she attended the private boarding school they had originally planned.
Harry and Ron were staying at Hogwarts. Harry of course had no family worth returning to; according to him, his aunt and uncle, Petunia and Vernon Dursley, were the most terrible people in the world, with the exception of Malfoy and Snape. Ron's parents were visiting Charlie, his second-oldest brother, in Romania, were Charlie was studying dragons. Thus all Weasley children stayed at Hogwarts during the holidays, and Harry was looking forward to the best Christmas he had ever had.
In fact, he was so happy about it that even Malfoys taunts couldn't get to him.
“I do feel so sorry,” Malfoy said, one Potions class, “for all the people who have to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas because they're not wanted at home.”
His cronies chuckled stupidly, but everyone else ignored him. Including Snape, something that enraged Hermione to no end. The teacher had no right to ignore Malfoy speaking in class, taunting other students, when the slightest whisper from a Gryffindor immediately resulted in lost points.
Not that Malfoy was very adept at making fun of Harry. In a jealous rage after the Quidditch match, he had told everyone how a wide-mouthed frog would replace Harry as Seeker, but nobody except his fellow Slytherins found that even remotely funny. They were all far too impressed that Harry had stayed on the broom in the first place. Not that anybody except Harry, Ron, Hermione and Hagrid knew why broom had acted that funny. They hadn't told their classmates, knowing that if the rumour spread, they'd get into trouble for starting it.
When they left the dungeons after that lesson, a large fir tree was blocking the corridor. The tree had two very large feet and made loud puffing sounds that reminded them strongly of Hagrid.
Ron stuck his head through the branches and said, “Hi Hagrid, want any help?”
“Nah, I'm all right, thanks, Ron,” came the gamekeeper's answer.
Hermione was shoved to the side suddenly and Draco stepped up.
“Would you mind moving out of the way?” he drawled. “Are you trying to earn some extra money, Weasley? Hoping to be gamekeeper yourself when you leave Hogwarts, I suppose – that hut of Hagrid's must seem like a palace compared to what your family's used to.”
Hermione made a grab for Ron's arm, but he had already attacked Malfoy.
“WEASLEY!”
Ron let go of Malfoy.
“He was provoked, Professor Snape,” Hagrid came to Ron's defence. “Malfoy was insultin' his family.”
“Be that as it may, fighting is against Hogwarts rules, Hagrid,” said Snape with annoying superiority in his demeanour. “Five points from Gryffindor, Weasley, and be grateful it isn't more. Move along, all of you.”
The Slytherins didn't hesitate. Flanked by Crabbe and Goyle, Malfoy strolled away through the corridor the two created with their bodies. A large amount of needles fell down as they pushed past the tree.
“I'll get him,” said Ron, his ears red and his jaws set, “one of these days, I'll get him ...”
“I hate them both,” Harry added darkly, “Malfoy and Snape.”
“Come on, cheer up, it's nearly Christmas.” said Hagrid. “Tell yeh what, come with me an' see the Great Hall, looks a treat.”
They took the offer gladly and followed Hagrid and his tree into the Great Hall, where Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick were busy decorating.
“Ah, Hagrid, the last tree – put it in the far corner, would you?”
Hermione felt another pang of regret as she entered the hall. However hard her grandparents might try, the decorations in their large country house could never even be noticeable next to what filled the Great Hall. The sky was criss-crossed with festoons of holly and mistletoe, which also decorated the walls. An even dozen Christmas trees stood without any discernible pattern around the hall, no two looking quite the same. Some had tiny icicles hanging from the branches that glittered and sparkled in the light from the hundreds of candles that filled other trees. Professor Flitwick was just covering the new tree with countless golden bubbles that welled from his wand, which seemed to fascinate Ron to no end.
Hagrid must have noticed the look on Hermione's face, for he asked, “How many days you got left until yer holidays?”
“Just one,” she answered. “And that reminds me – Harry, Ron, we've got half an hour before lunch, we should be in the library.”
“Oh yeah, you're right,” Ron said, tearing his eyes away from the tree. They marched swiftly out of the hall. Hagrid followed them; with his long legs he didn't need to hurry to keep up.
“The library?” he asked. “Just before the holidays? Bit keen, aren't yeh?”
“Oh, we're not working,” Harry told him merrily. “Ever since you mentioned Nicolas Flamel we've been trying to find out who he is.”
Hagrid didn't take these news well.
“You what? Listen here – I've told yeh – drop it. It's nothin' to you what that dog's guardin'.”
“We just want to know who Nicolas Flamel is, that's all,” said Hermione in her most innocent voice.
“Unless you'd like to tell us and save us the trouble?” Harry added with a grin. “We must've been through hundreds of books already and we can't find him anywhere – just give us a hint – I know I've read his name somewhere.”
“I'm sayin' nothin',” Hagrid said.
“Just have to find out for ourselves, then,” said Ron. He gave him a tiny wave and they left Hagrid behind.
She had lied, of course. They were looking for Nicolas Flamel because he was their only clue as to what Snape was trying to steal. They all wanted to find out, partly due to curiosity, but also because if Snape was really trying to steal something, he ought to get imprisoned for it. The boys on the other hand acted as if they simply were searching for a way to get Snape sacked. The problem was that they couldn't find any reference to Flamel at all. They knew he knew Professor Dumbledore, so they focused their research on lists of recent wizards and discoveries. But neither was he in Charmers You Have To Know, nor in a list of contributors to Transfiguration Update. Hermione had browsed through endless lists of names in Wizards of Note and had studied stacks of the research update magazine What We Are Up To. But interesting as the recent breakthroughs in Flipping Charms were, nowhere was Nicolas Flamel mentioned.
Hermione had prepared a long list of books she wanted to look through and went straight to the next one on her list. Ron, on the other hand, wandered aimlessly among the rows, pulling out books more or less randomly. She would eventually have to teach him organized research. Harry entered the Restricted Section, the area of the library that contained books about the Dark Arts or that there otherwise considered inappropriate for most students. You needed a signed note from a teacher in order to retrieve one of the books there, but Harry was hoping he'd get a few minutes without Madam Pince pouncing on him.
Half an hour and five books later Ron and Hermione joined Harry, who was already waiting for them. They all shook their heads and went off to lunch. It had been Hermione's last chance to find something before Christmas.
“You will keep looking while I'm away, won't you?” she said. “And send me an owl if you find anything.”
“And you could ask your parents if they know who Flamel is,” suggested Ron. “It'd be safe to ask them.”
“Very safe, as they're both dentists,” she said. As if my parents would know any wizards.
They had already given each other their Christmas presents, wrapped up of course. She had gotten them both sweets, not only because she knew they would like them, but also because it was hard to get anything else at Hogwarts, and they weren't allowed outside the grounds.
Now she was sitting with the other Gryffindors on the Hogwarts Express, watching the Hogsmeade station fade into the distance. They had travelled from the castle to the station in carriages that moved on their own accord, without anything pulling them. Before that they had all gotten reminders that they were disallowed to do magic during the holidays, something Hermione regretted greatly. She would have loved to show her parents some controlled magic.
They were waiting just outside the barrier. Her father scooped her up and whirled her around, then handed her over to her mother for a tight embrace while he took her trunk. Together they set off to the car, Hermione already chattering away happily about her term.
She had to be careful. Not only couldn't she tell anyone except her parents about magic, she couldn't tell her parents everything either. They were so concerned about her safety; if they knew that she had already escaped death narrowly two times and her friend three times, they wouldn't ever let her go back to school. She didn't like withholding things from them, but it was necessary. She had to go back to Hogwarts.
Her parents, she noticed, had a much clearer idea of what had been going on than she had ever let on in her letters.
“We were concerned,” David said. “We knew you weren't happy until Hallowe'en. What happened?”
“How did you know?” Hermione asked in surprise.
“My dear Hermione,” Jane said, “you were writing far too many letters for a girl who's supposed to have fun with friends. Not that you mentioned any. You kept writing about how great classes were, never a single bad word about a teacher. It's unnatural.”
“And then, just after Hallowe'en, there was a sudden drop in the letter count, and those that came were almost exclusively about Harry and Ron, Ron and Harry.”
“We were very happy for you, of course. So, what happened?”
Hermione stared wide-eyed at her parents. She had been sure she hadn't given anything away – well, there was no time now to dwell on this, she had to make up a story of why they had become friends. The best lies, she knew, where those that contained a grain of truth.
“Well, we got into some trouble together, being out of the tower when we shouldn't be. It kind of brought us closer.”
“I hope you don't get into trouble too often.”
“No, mum, don't worry. We didn't even lose house points.” Harry and Ron had made it clear, very soon after Hallowe'en, that they considered the evening a win of five points by the three of them together.
David changed the subject.
“So, will you show us some magic, then?”
Hermione grimaced.
“No, sorry. I'm not allowed to do magic outside school until I'm seventeen. Reasonable Restriction of Underage Wizardry, they call it.”
Her parents looked predictably disappointed.
“It gets worse,” Hermione said unhappily. “I didn't even know about this beforehand, and I wanted to make your Christmas presents with magic, and now I can't. I can't do any magic until I'm back at school.”
“Hmmm,” her father mused. “Tell you what, why don't you make the presents at school when you're back and send them to us? Can owls carry packages too?”
“Oh, yes, they can.” The idea cheered Hermione up a lot.
They stopped at their house only long enough to unload the trunk and load the luggage they'd need for the Christmas holiday and drove on to Jane's mother. They often spent Christmas there. Elisabeth Cranleigh had a large house and an even larger garden and loved to have both her children and their families with her. Jane's younger brother, Thomas, had a son of Hermione's age and a daughter three years older. Eddie and Susan were the only friends Hermione had ever had before Hogwarts, but as they lived in the far east of England they rarely saw each other, usually only at family reunions such as Christmas. The Grangers had always wanted a second child, too, but they hadn't been successful for years and had finally decided that they didn't want that large a distance between their children. Jane's father had died when Hermione was still a baby, she couldn't remember him at all. David's parents would be there, though.
They arrived late in the evening. The house looked very festive indeed, even if it was nothing compared to the Hogwarts Great Hall. The rest of the family greeted them and helped them with the luggage. Hermione would be sharing a room with Susan, something that wouldn't have bothered her except that she'd have liked to have some privacy to open her presents and in case an owl arrived. That couldn't be helped, though.
Dinner was the first test of her made-up stories. At first she merely listened to her cousin talk of his new school and complain about the idiots from that nearby other school, Smeltings. But eventually the talk turned to her own school. Luckily nobody knew anything about the school, so Hermione could get away with completely wrong information. She told them that students were sorted by their talents into four houses after an initial test according to their talents. She talked about the football league at school and how they defeated another school team despite various attempts at cheating. And of course she complained loudly about her unfair chemistry teacher.
Later she sat alone in the library when her father entered. He sat down opposite her.
“That was quite a performance,” he said, smiling at her.
Hermione nodded dully. They sat in silence for a long moment.
“I don't like this,” Hermione finally burst out. “I don't like this at all. I hate lying to my own family. I hate that I have to watch my every word, my every move, for fear of giving something away. They're the few people that I like and trust, and now I can't trust them any more. Why does it have to be so hard?”
Her father looked taken aback at first by her sudden outburst, but then he got up, sat down next to Hermione and pulled her into his lap. She leaned back against him and he wrapped his arms around her. Again they sat in silence, her father rocking her lightly like he used to do when she was younger.
“You still have us,” he whispered in her ear. She didn't answer.
“Hermione?”
“Yes. I still have you,” she said. If they only knew.
Luckily Oliver Wood sufficed to sate Susan's interest in boys at Hermione's school. She didn't have to speak of it again.
On Christmas morning Hermione woke very early. Susan was still fast asleep when Hermione crept to her trunk and pulled out her presents from Harry and Ron. She went back to bed, ready to throw the covers over them immediately should they be something loud – she wouldn't put anything past Ron or even Harry. She opened Ron's present first. It was nothing loud. In fact, it was something very silent: a small box of Sugar Quills. Attached to the box was a note.
As if made for you. Merry Christmas Ron
She smiled. Sugar Quills were an intricate candy, a thick beam of sugar with arms on both sides, the room in-between filled with spun sugar. They looked and felt exactly like goose quills, except that you could suck them. Despite being magically reinforced, they were so fragile that only recent developments on the area of Cushioning Charms allowed their safe transportation over long distances. She carefully put the box away and took Harry's present. It contained sweets, too. Three roles of Tooth-Flossing String Mints, together with a note by Harry.
One for you and one each for your parents. Or two for you and one for your parents. It's up to you. Merry Christmas Harry
Hermione grinned. Her parents would love it.
Susan stirred on the other bed. Hermione quickly hid her presents from view. While not magical themselves, they were still impossible to create without magic. At least they weren't Chocolate Frogs, like she had gotten for Harry. Explaining a candy hopping across the table would have been very difficult.
Susan opened her eyes.
“Merry Christmas, Hermione,” was the first thing she said.
“Merry Christmas, Susan.”
They went down to the living room together. Eddie was already up and staring longingly at the presents under the Christmas tree.
“Merry Christmas,” the girls called together.
“Happy Christmas,” the boy called back. “What do you think, can we already open the presents?”
“Definitely not,” Hermione's aunt said, coming into the room. “You'll wait for everyone to be up.”
Eddie made such a disappointed face that Hermione had to laugh. Barbara Cranleigh walked over and ruffled his hair.
“Geroff, mum!”
“Don't worry, they're already coming.”
It was true; within two minutes, everybody was inside the room and the children attacked their presents. Hermione got mostly books, as usual. One, however, contained a note from her parents.
We'll give you your real present later, it's not suitable for this company. Jane and David
Hermione crumpled the note and put it in her pocket, wondering what the real present was. Something they got in Diagon Alley, without doubt.
She found out later that day, when her parents entered her room unexpectedly. Susan was out in the snow with Eddie and Hermione was about to go after her.
“Wait a moment, Hermione,” her father said. “We haven't given you your present yet.”
They gave her a rattling box. Hermione took it carefully and unwrapped it. When she opened it she heard an annoyed voice.
“Well, finally! We thought we'd be stuck in here forever.”
The voice belonged to a chess piece that was lying in the box. In fact, it was a complete set of Wizard's Chess pieces.
“Wow,” Hermione said. Wizard's Chess was like normal chess, except that the pieces were enchanted to move on their own when commanded and even equipped with a little intelligent thought. They gave constant commentary to the games and piped up when they disagreed with a move. Hermione had seen people get into heated arguments with their chess pieces in the Common Room.
“Maybe you'll find someone to play with you,” David said.
“I will,” she said. Ron had his own set of chessmen.
“Who are you?” a knight suddenly asked. “Oh, great, a beginner. Well, there goes our reputation.”
“I'm your new owner,” Hermione said grinning. “So you better listen to what I say.”
“I think you don't understand who's in command here,” said the knight.
“I am. And we're in a Muggle house, so you better shut up.” She closed the box and buried it deep in her trunk, ignoring the screams of protest from the pieces.
“I've got something for you, too,” Hermione told her parents. “Harry thought you'd like them.”
She pulled out the String Mints and handed them to her parents.
“Tooth-flossing string?” her father asked bewilderedly.
“Tooth-Flossing String Mints,” Hermione corrected. “They're a candy, but yes, you can use them as tooth-flossing strings.”
David looked suspiciously at the loose end of the strings and then took it in his mouth. His expression changed from doubtful to surprised to pleased in moments.
“They're good,” he stated. “Fascinating. Send our thanks.”
“I will,” Hermione said. “Look what I got from Ron.”
She pulled out the Sugar Quills.
“Be careful, they're very fragile. Made of the purest sugar.”
Her mother took out one of the quills and looked at it wide-eyed.
“Incredible,” she breathed. “They're beautiful.”
Hermione smiled.
It was a very enjoyable holiday, yet Hermione was glad when she said goodbye to her parents and disappeared through the barrier to Platform Nine and Three Quarters. Late in the evening, when they were back in the horseless carriages and the castle came into sight, she knew that it was worth all her problems at home.