To say that sitting through Arithmancy class had been a struggle was an understatement of the highest order. Professor Vector barely completed telling the class when the next assignment was due before Hermione bolted through the classroom door and down the hall. Understandably, she spent the entire class preoccupied. Oh her mind was absolutely on Arithmancy, but it had nothing to do with creating equations for dual matrices running different extrapolations. Rather, when she took her usual seat, her mind was reeling, careening around the white spot on her graph. Knowing what was on her mind, the professor ignored her for the entire lecture; she couldn't tell if any of her classmates had noticed, as she was usually quite talkative in that class. She was too busy stewing.

Now here she was tromping around the Black Lake, trying to physically sweat out her aggression and anxiety. "I must look like a banshee searching for a victim," she thought. Other students briefly made eye contact with her and turned in the decidedly opposite direction. Her fingertips felt like they were buzzing with magical energy, and people were clearly giving her a wide berth. Although Hermione typically preferred to work off her energies by using her brain, she knew that this level of pent up emotion required something more visceral. Her Earth magic, the thing that made her essentially a witch, flared; it was feeding off of her emotions, and it needed to be controlled. Now on the far side of the lake, past the greenhouses, she took a few steps off of the path near a rocky outcrop. Ever practical, she began with the protego spell to ensure she was shielded, and then she went to town.

"Reducto! Reducto! Reducto!" she shouted in quick succession, reducing bedrock to bits. Dust and gravel rained down around her, harmlessly bouncing off of her charm. It only took five minutes, but she leveled the entire rock formation. Although she still felt as though a rubber band was inside of her, stretched tautly, just waiting, her magic receded and the crackle that had covered her skin was gone. Making an audible deep breath, Hermione turned to go back to the castle. After her display, she was hungry, and it would do her some good to go to the Great Hall.

"Heya, Hermione!" Up ahead just off the path by the greenhouses was Neville. He waved happily, beckoning her over to him. Despite her now growling stomach, she made the diversion. "Blowing off some steam by the sound of it."

"Sometimes it just feels good to explode things."

"I second that. One of the things I like best about working in the greenhouses is that there are a lot of things that can't be done with magic. It feels genuinely good to do the work by hand, even though it's hard, sweaty, and tiring. When I'm finished, I can really see what I've done."

"Maybe you should start sharing that tidbit with everyone."

"Well, it's not exactly a secret. Besides, the other thing I love about being out here is the peace and quiet. That'd evaporate quickly with more people about."

"There is that," she grinned. It felt good to slip into easy conversation with Neville. Normal. "I'm headed up to the Great Hall for dinner. Want to join me?"

"I'll have to rain check, I'm afraid. I've loads more work to get done here. You know Professor Sprout is double growing most of the medicinal plants to help stockpile at St. Mungo's and some other places. Healers are making sure their potions' stores are fresh and over-full just in case."

"I think that's really wise, considering. It's really important work, and I'm glad you're invested in doing it."

"Well, I'd better crack on. That aloe isn't going to separate and repot itself," he replied. "We all have our parts to play, and the solstice will be here faster than we think it will."

Although she had been prepared to step away from Neville and head for the Great Hall, she turned and stared pointedly at him. "What makes you say that?"

The easygoing small talk evaporated, and he awkwardly toed the ground, searching it for an answer. "Uh, well, I guess I just…" She knew it was better just to wait him out. Neville had never been any good at lying and something told her that he wouldn't make a run for it. And even if he did, she'd corner him later. He grew antsier under her eyes, shifting his weight from foot to foot. "Well?"

Rather than answer her, he grabbed for the cuff of her heavy winter robe, pulling her back towards the greenhouse. Its door banged behind her, and the appreciable change in temperature quickly made her weather-appropriate gear hotly insufferable. Still, she didn't move to take off her outer robe, electing instead to continue staring at Neville. He quickly looked around him to check that they were alone, but he stepped closer to her anyway so he could whisper. "I have a… friend," he murmured next to her ear. "And that person has connections with Slytherin. There are rumors that things are going to come to a head at Winter Solstice."

"Have you told anyone about these rumors?" Hermione knew full well it wasn't a rumor, but it wouldn't do any good to start telling people and cause a mass panic. This would need to be carefully orchestrated so as not to raise suspicion but keep people safer at the same time.

"No, I haven't. Like I said, it's only rumors, but we all know it's going to happen sooner or later. I want to do what I can while I can."

Hermione exhaled a slow quiet breath. "You're absolutely right," she replied. "We should be prepared for whatever comes our way. I'm sure we'll be told more in due time." She needed to get out of the conversation before she revealed too much. Although she had confidence that Neville could keep a secret (although his slip in mentioning the solstice wasn't all too comforting at the minute), it wasn't wise to have so many people involved. There would be more blood oaths and more people to keep informed but quiet. "I'd better go before I miss dinner. Are you sure you don't want to come along?" A change in subject might do the trick.

Sure enough, Neville stepped back and put distance between them. "Nah, I really do have loads of work to do. Be a pal and don't tell anyone what I said, please?"

"I'll hold it to myself until someone else approaches me about it. Is that fair? I can promise to keep your name out of it for safety sake." He looked to the top of the greenhouse, chewing his lip a bit in thought at her proposal.

"That sounds fair. I suppose Harry and Ron will be some of the first to know if they don't already. It makes sense you'd talk to them about it."

"Then it's a bargain. I'll see you in the morning for breakfast maybe. I don't think I'll be in the Common Room much tonight." And she turned to make a hasty retreat before she could get roped into further promises or pleasantries.

While the trip back to the castle took no time at all, her conversation with Neville had reignited her flustered mind. She was accustomed to multitasking and prided herself on being organized in going about it. Neville's mention of a friend with Slytherin connections had her guessing; every other thought was about the white spot, add to that everything else on her plate. Oh yes, and regular class and Head Girl duties. As she wrenched open the castle door, she had a moment of newfound appreciation for Professor Snape. As muggles would say, tinker, tailor, soldier, spy - a man of many identities who must slip from one to the next as easily as blinking.

Unsurprisingly, the Great Hall was a cacophony of voices, clattering plates and cutlery, and scraping benches. Still, there was something about the familiarity of the noise that calmed her. And, her stomach was really roiling. As usual, Harry and Ron were in their seats near the middle of the table, next to Ginny with Seamus just a few seats further down. They were intent on their plates so she took a second to scan the room. What that actually meant was checking to see if Draco was at the Slytherin table. The top of his blond head was just visible next to the hulk of Goyle. She couldn't acknowledge him, but felt easier knowing he was in proximity. Job done she moved to an open seat near her friends, still scanning the room. Her eyes lit on Padma, who had a small mountain of food piled on the plate in front of her. "The blood oath must've been successful," she thought as she began to assemble her own dinner.

"Oi Hermione!" shouted Ron, "When did you get here? Didn't see you come in." He sounded like his old jovial self and it warmed her a bit more inside.

"I just arrived. Had a really tough Arithmancy class and needed to blow off a little magical steam before coming to the Hall." For a moment Ron's face became serious, picking up some of the subtext about Arithmancy being difficult. Since the meeting in the Ravenclaw study room—and maybe with a little of Luna's influence—he was paying closer attention.

"That's understandable," and like that the look evaporated, "honestly, I don't know how you do it. I have no head for all of those numbers, symbols, and calculations. Now transfiguration, that I can get behind. Point your wand, imagine the change, and poof! It's done!" Ron reached for a piece of naan and proceeded to split it in half using his thumbs to part the crust.

"You may have something there," she replied. "How about you, Harry? What's your preference for magic?"

"Flying," he said without hesitation. "I know it's not what you're talking about, the broom does most of the work, but for me it's better than all of the other stuff."

"No foolish wand waving for you, then?" asked Ginny, paraphrasing the Potions professor. "You might need it as an auror, you know." The light mood that had been circling around them darkened considerably. Future plans—after the war—was often a taboo subject.

"Sure," Harry said and went back to eating what appeared to be tikka masala.

A little redirection was in order. "On my way out of the castle, I spotted Peeves lobbing some balloons at some Second Year girls. By the smell of it, I think they were filled with custard. Remember that time he threw water balloons at us? Professor McGonagall tried so hard to look angry, but you just know she was enjoying the spectacle."

"Custard balloons? That's genius!" chuckled Ron. "I'll bet those can really pack a wallop. And the mess!"

"You don't think it's just a bit cruel?" asked Ginny. "Between the sting of the impact and the need to scourgify every crevice of clothing, it would be more than the mild inconvenience a water balloon causes." Ron shoved a heavily laden fork full of chana masala and rice into his mouth, chewing as he considered his sister's question.

"Sure when you put it that way, but think of it from Peeves' perspective. I mean, after hundreds of years, he has to occasionally try new things. Keep it fresh. Look at Fred and George. They're never satisfied with a great joke product; they're always after either making it better or onto the next thing. Can you imagine if they had stopped at ton-tongue toffee or puking pastilles? No way!" He seemed quite pleased with his explanation and went back to his plate. But not before reaching for another piece of naan.

The three remaining friends darted glances to one another with accompanying shoulder shrugs. There certainly was a nice logic to the analogy. They ate quietly for a few minutes, meditating while masticating.

It was Ginny who broke the silence with a quick "psh" to get everyone's attention. In a low whisper she said, "it looks like Padma did well this afternoon. Or so her appetite says."

"I saw her for a few minutes just before we came into the Hall," responded Harry. "She said it was draining—no surprise there—but McGonagall seemed satisfied with how it went."

"Well that's a relief," added Hermione. "Now that we have a timeline for things, the more allies we have, the better. And for you Harry," she turned in her seat to make sure he was looking at her, "it's important that you have someone you feel you can trust outside of us. Someone who can give you a different point of view that's not so snarled up in our history, friendship, or even house. That goes for you, too, Ron." At this, Ron started, making an audible gulp as he cleared his mouth and turned his attention to Hermione. "I really mean it. Both Luna and Padma are going to be great to confide in and they will always tell you what they really think, albeit in different ways." She was sincere in her sentiment. Harry, his face a little grave, acknowledged her with a quick nod. Ron, on the other hand, surprisingly blushed.

"And what am I?" Ginny giggled. "Chopped dung beetle?" A quick laugh hummed through the group. Things hadn't felt this normal in a very long time.

And, it suddenly occurred to Hermione that wasn't necessarily a good thing. Newly ever mindful that they were being watched, appraised, and reported on by other students—particularly those with death eater ties—it wasn't necessarily beneficial that they were behaving like their old selves after publicly feuding for months. Changes in behavior would undoubtedly send up red flags. Suddenly she was back in the conversation with Draco, and her stomach, filled with the spicy Indian food, began to sour. It was essential for the death eater camp to believe that discord and animosity were keeping the trio apart. "Well shit," thought Hermione. "We were having such a lovely time."

"You know what, Ginny?" she began in a dark tone. "I'm not really sure what you are." Accordingly, all of the heads did owl impressions, swiveling around in unison with eyes wide and unblinking. "I know you've taken your oath and all, but you've always been a little bit of a hanger-on, right? Always wanting to tag along, even when you weren't wanted." Ron, right on cue, stepped in to defend his sister.

"Oi, Hermione, what's all this? That's bollocks it is, and you know it."

"Yeah. What exactly is that supposed to mean? It's been a long time since I was purposefully excluded as just 'dumb little sister.' What's gotten into you?" Hermione was a little disappointed; Ginny was usually always so quick to pick up on the subtext of the moment.

"Now that Hermione mentions it, you could never seem to keep away from me. When we were together, it was suffocating having you there all of the time." This time it was Harry who was quick on the take, and she went with it.

"Of course you would say that, Harry 'the chosen one who absolutely must be all alone because nobody can understand him.'"

"Hermione!" Ron shouted, making the 'argument' more public to the people in the near vicinity, including Seamus. In her peripheral vision, she saw him get up from his seat, shaking his head and muttering to himself. He took a wide path to leave the Great Hall that wouldn't take him past the group. "How can you say that?" continued Ron. "That was bloody mean. Harry's had a tough time of it. We all have."

"Oh stuff it, Ron." Now Ginny chimed in, catching onto the game. "She's right. Harry is just insufferable most of the time, a right prat." Harry dramatically stood up, muscling the long bench back, pitching Ron and Ginny a little from the sudden jolt. While Ron's shout had gotten the attention of people nearby, their continued bickering sent whispers throughout the room. She couldn't chance a look at the Slytherin table, but she knew at least a few of the students there were watching.

"With friends like you, who needs enemies?" His abrupt stance further called attention to them, and dozens of pairs of eyes watched as he stomped out of the Great Hall. Hermione hastily collected her things, preparing to make her own exit and go back to her rooms. Harry clearly had understood what was going on. She would leave it to Ginny to explain it to Ron. As she shouldered her bag, she noticed that Padma was heading for the doors, trying to look like she wasn't chasing after Harry.

"What's gotten into you? I thought we had made up?" Ron looked really stricken and forlorn. She promised herself that she would properly apologize when they had a private moment. All she could do for the minute was try to give him a hint.

"It takes more than a few laughs to fix a friendship. Nothing has changed." She made her voice hard and deliberate while staring intently into his eyes. "Everything is exactly the same as it was two weeks ago." There was no way he could believe that. So much had changed, for each of them personally—she made a mental note to touch base with Ginny about her encounter with Blaise—as well as for their group friendship, especially the addition of Padma. Everything was different. Yet, it couldn't look that way to most of the other students.

She left the Great Hall with her head bowed, using her hair as a scrim to surreptitiously glance at Draco. Or she would have if he had been seated at the table. There were mostly First and Second years left, with the exception of Zabini and Goyle. Stepping into the foyer, she wondered when he had left the room. Had he seen any of the argument? Questions continued in that line, taking a painful turn as she asked herself if she could remember Pansy at the table when she initially got there. Unsurprisingly and somewhat logically her mind asked: Has she propositioned him yet? It was only a matter of time.

"You know, my father says that when people bite at their lips, it's a sign that they've been infected with the toxin of a wringle. Fortunately for humans it just causes mild irritation, but for flies it's a death sentence."

She hadn't noticed that she had been biting her lip, nor had she noticed Luna falling into step next to her. "How might a person be infected?" Surely this would make for a good mental diversion.

"Splinters. Wringles like to eat wood, and their saliva contains the toxin. If your skin scrapes wood that a wringle was recently eating, you can be infected. The Great Hall tables have a few patches where wringles are concentrated. I'd be happy to show you the next time we're there together."

"That could be fascinating. Why are wringles so dangerous for flies?" She needed the conversation to get her to the end of the hallway.

"Oh, well of course you know that flies eat constantly, mostly by vomiting digestive juices onto things and sucking the mixture back up again. If a fly should do this while on a piece of wood that a wringle has fed on, the mixture of digestive enzymes and toxin are absolutely lethal. One way to see if you have a wringle infestation is to check for spots where there are an abundance of dead flies." That was certainly more than Hermione had bargained for. Then again, it always was.

"You know, we had a corner in our dining room that seemed to be what my Dad called a fly trap. I wonder if it was wringles."

"Or a spider," replied Luna. "Spiders do enjoy flies. With wringles it's just fate that the two elements have mixed." What a strange notion, she thought, that spiders should actually enjoy their "meals." Of course, she got the full report on the acromantula, and they certainly had gusto for their food.

"Now that I think of it, the Ravenclaw study lounge has a chair that wringles are quite prone to. I saw Padma going in that direction with Harry. I wonder if they would mind if we would come in to examine it."

"That's a lovely thought, Luna, but I'm sure they'll want to be alone. I think it's been a rough day for them both."

"Yes, blood oaths can be quite taxing. I was pleased to see Padma replace her stores during dinner." As always, Luna surprised her with her astute observations. It occurred to Hermione that someday each and every person who thought that Luna Lovegood was loony and that none of her mystical creatures were real would be proven wrong in highly spectacular ways. "Alright then," she sing-songed. "We're nearly to your doors, and I need to go to the library to work on my advanced Astronomy essay. See you tomorrow." Without another word, Luna skipped away.

"Half-calf double latte." The witch was propped against her cauldron, pointed hat pulled low over her brow, indicating that she was napping. She made no motion. "Half-calf double latte," Hermione repeated. This time, a bit louder.

"She's dead to the world," a voice called from somewhere off to her right. Scanning the hallway, she saw no one there. Clearly she looked confused as the voice directed, "Over here! In this little grotto." She turned to a painting of a brightly lit cave opening with a lovely blue pool. Sitting on a bench carved of rock was a wizard she had not seen before. The man, made small by the scale of the painting, had his formal robes draped over one side of the bench, leaving him in his white shirt and black trousers. The trousers were rolled half way up the shins so that his little feet could dangle in the water. She noted a tall pair of black boots neatly tucked back from the water's edge. Although the portraits had full use of the paintings in Hogwarts, it was unusual to see one so relaxed.

"I beg your pardon, sir. I don't believe we've met. I'm Hermione Granger; this year's Head Girl."

"Yes indeed, I know just who you are. But I have you at the disadvantage. I am Master Ignotus Suponificus. Distinguished Hogwarts Master of Potions. Pleased to make your acquaintance."

"Oh! But then you must, of course, know Professor Snape."

"A brilliant lad if ever there was one. Why, the things he brews with such affinity for the ingredients and process. He's a rarity among potioneers to say the least."

"That's quite high praise. Unfortunately, I've only seen him do standard classroom demonstrations. I should like to see him at work on something he's keenly interested in."

"Rightly so, dear girl. It's quite a different thing when in the thick of experimentation from the billionth batch of befuddlement draught. Why just an hour ago, Effie and I were in the thick of it, attempting to better a traditional restorative potion. It was thrilling."

"Effie?" He gestured back toward the portrait in front of her room. "I didn't realize that was her name."

"Her name is Eunice. Effie is a little pet name I started using, oh around 1780 or so. She didn't arrive until the 1760s. It was wonderful to finally have someone to talk to about potions. The professor at the time wasn't even a master. It was a wonder he knew the difference between toads and frogs."

"I can understand feeling isolated without other people who speak a common language."

"Indeed, indeed. As it is, I'm afraid you may not be able to access your rooms for a little while. She insisted on tasting the potion herself. I always try to dissuade her from doing that. Usually I can usher along a willing cow or sheep from one of the pastorals, but she's always so impatient to test."

"That's disappointing. I have so much work to do, and I would much rather do it privately. The Common Room is too chaotic for me these days."

"Understandable. Nothing like a bit of sanctuary to focus the mind, eh Miss Granger? Why, when I was a lad here, I had a special corner of the library I frequented. The Ravenclaw rooms were usually jam packed and I, like you, appreciated a little peace and quiet."

"Master Suponificus, that is an excellent suggestion! I will head for the library. Surely there will be a carrel or two available. Thank you so much for the lovely chat. I look forward to seeing you again soon."

"And to you as well." And off she strode toward her own special corner, briefly wondering if they were one and the same. What she didn't see was how quickly the little wizard magically reassembled his costume and flitted back into Effie's portrait. She flicked the brim of her hat, revealing a glinting eye. "Well that worked a treat," she said, the curve of her half smile lilting into the words.

"That it did. Now, shall we make our way to Vincent's and see if we can't goad him into a quick one-to-one match with old Barnstormer Brutus? Might buy us a few hours."

"Lead the way, my dear, lead the way."