Winter was approaching, and it became significantly colder in the castle. We didn't freeze in our living room and bedrooms, but in the corridors, people moved exclusively by dashing from one office to another, and during lectures, they would pause to warm their numb fingers with their breath. My hands sometimes got cold even in gloves. I guess I'm not very hardened. The number of students with steam coming out of their ears from the pepper-up potion was increasing every day. I sewed several small cushions from handkerchiefs and applied my "heater" rune chain to them. Finally, it came in handy. The girls and I stuffed these mini-pillows into our robe pockets and warmed our hands during breaks. Other students became interested in this invention. We even made a little money from it. Pocket money is never superfluous. One cushion sold for two sickles. The girls sewed the cushions themselves, and I applied the runes. We divided the profits equally.
I noticed that Potter's lips were turning bluer day by day, despite wearing two robes on top of each other. With a bit of observation, I managed to catch him while Ron went to the bathroom. I dragged the hero into an empty classroom.
"Harry, sorry for interfering, but you urgently need to buy normal winter clothes; you're already all blue. A little more and you'll get completely sick."
"How do you think I can do that, Mio?" Harry got angry, "Look, I have money, but what's the use if they don't let us out of here?"
"You can place an order remotely," I reached into my bag for catalogs, "and to pay, you need to press your wand to the order form—and the money will be withdrawn from your account."
Thank God, Harry didn't resist. We looked through the catalogs, and I convinced him to buy two sweaters, three shirts, proper trousers, warm winter boots, a hat, a scarf, gloves—he wouldn't agree to more; even this many clothes was unusually much for him.
"Now," I opened the catalog to the men's underwear section for him, "choose what you need yourself, and it's better to take extra; socks are never redundant."
Harry pointed at something, hopefully he didn't skimp on himself; I won't look to avoid embarrassing the child completely. I showed him how to activate the order form with his wand, and a magical measuring tape flew out of the catalog and spun around Harry, measuring him from all sides. The measurement results appeared automatically in the required lines.
"Now we need to send a letter, let's go to the owlery," how can we avoid Ron on the way, otherwise my grand scheme might fail. I can't predict the redhead's reaction to such a move in advance. But we were lucky.
The next morning, four large owls brought Harry his order. Ron isn't talking to me now. He didn't talk to me much before, but now he's doing it on principle. Although what the principle is here is unclear. But at least now Harry's lips are a normal color.
Well, this has gotten to me! Lately, unaccounted-for additives have been appearing in my cup at meals. The first few times, I quietly emptied the cup with Evanesco, looking suspiciously at Dumbledore, but on the fourth time, I poured some juice into a bottle and went straight to the potions master. Professor Snape is definitely not happy to see me at an unscheduled time. Why does he dislike me so much? When I voiced the problem, he looked at me like I was a worm, but agreed to help. He waved his wand over the juice, then dripped something from a small vial into it and concluded:
"This potion was supposed to turn your skin green. Duration—from a couple of hours to a couple of days," it seemed like there were gloating notes in his voice. As if he was glad someone wanted to make me green.
Hmm. Green skin—that's definitely not Dumbledore... And now I think I know who it is. Why didn't I think of these troublemakers right away? They should have been the first suspects!
"Thank you very much, Professor! How did you determine that?"
"I don't have time, Miss Granger... Out!"
"Uh-huh... goodbye... thank you again, sir."
Seriously, how? A couple of wand passes, interaction with a single potion, and visually the juice didn't change at all. Or did it change, but it's only noticeable to the chosen ones? Damn, it's intriguing.
At the next meal, the ring heated up again. I furtively looked at the Gryffindor table to confirm my guess. Sure enough, the twins were fidgeting and casting expectant glances at me. Well, well... Weasley brothers, you won't like my response.
While I was contemplating my "revenge" on the twins, I remembered they had an archi-mega-useful artifact, namely the Marauder's Map. Great, expropriating such an item would be a perfect combination of pleasure and utility. But for me to be able to use the map afterward, my involvement in its disappearance must remain secret. Since they guaranteed don't look at the map only when they're asleep, we'll act at night. Girls can go up to the boys' dormitories. The situation is complicated by the fact that they're in a different house. On the other hand, if we were in the same house, it would be even more fun, so it's better not to be. And I need to learn a sleep spell, otherwise someone in the dormitory might wake up at just that moment and ruin everything. And I would have big problems. Oh, it's a pity that the disillusionment charms still don't work for me, and Potter's invisibility cloak won't appear until after Christmas.
I still haven't figured out how to get around the invisibility problem, so I decided to practice Somnium for now. I practiced on myself before bed, pointing my wand roughly at my solar plexus. The spell turned out to be not difficult; on the second try, I knocked myself out.
The problem is that Gryffindor has the most students. There's always someone in the common room, even at night. Finding out the password isn't hard, but getting into the twins' bedroom unnoticed will only be possible with an invisibility cloak. Or if I learn to become invisible myself. Probably have to postpone until next semester.
The Quidditch season has opened. And today we're sitting at the Gryffindor vs. Slytherin match. Stupid sport. The brooms themselves are cool, but they didn't even let us properly fly during classes. Rise to three meters... oh, sorry, ten feet, fly forward, turn right, turn left, turn around, land. And that's it! Only team members have the opportunity to fly normally, and that's just seven people per house. Everyone else is left out. It's not fair. Not fair!
I'm watching only Harry. And now his broom starts to jerk. I glance toward Quirrell—he's whispering, the pest. And Snape doesn't see it yet. I need to wait; I need Snape as backup. So, Harry, hold on, as soon as the professor notices, I'll set the mantle of the two-faced saboteur on fire. Why reinvent the wheel, let's use the canonical Hermione's method, but with the right address. Okay, Snape has understood what's happening, fixing his gaze on Harry and also starting to enchant the broom. I don't need a wand for ignition; I've become skilled at it a year before Hogwarts. Quirrell realized he was on fire, and he had no time for the seeker anymore. Harry stabilized. The game continues, and the slightly burnt Quirrell leaves the stands—phew, what a weight off my shoulders. In the end, Terence Higgs—the Slytherin seeker—catches the Snitch. Seems like I spoiled Harry's triumph. Forgive me, child, I meant well. That's it, no more stepping foot at Quidditch! I repeat—stupid game.
"Home, home, time to go home!" I sing, packing my backpack. How I've missed my parents. The civilization. The ability to walk wherever I want, not just sitting in the castle without going out. The music. The warm toilets, finally!
I say goodbye to Harry and wish him a Merry Christmas. Ron still doesn't talk to me, just starts huffing like a kettle every time Harry approaches me. Before departure, I went to the elves, wheedled a basket of food from them for our journey, and in return shared magic—I finally learned to properly dose it. I could not share it specifically, but the elves appreciate it. We occupied a compartment with the entire first year of Hufflepuff, traveling and sharing plans for Christmas.
On the platform, Neville introduces me to his grandmother. I greet her and curtsy, as the etiquette book teaches. Lady Augusta receives me rather coldly. She might suspect, thanks to whom Neville got into another house, or maybe something else slipped through in Neville's letters, and Augusta decided that I'm a bad influence on him.
The acquaintance with Amelia Bones goes much warmer; she already knows a lot about me from Susan, and it's evident that she approves of my friendship with her niece. I wish everyone a Merry Christmas and run to the dividing barrier, behind which Justin disappeared long ago.
"Mom, Dad, I missed you so much!" I crash into my parents at full speed. Child's body—child's bright emotions. The Finch-Fletchley family is standing nearby; I meet them too, and we finally go home.
We talk, talk, talk, as if we hadn't corresponded every day with paired parchments, and finally part to our bedrooms at three in the morning.
It turns out, for Christmas we are invited to the Finch-Fletchley estate. I was upset because I wanted a family holiday, not a reception. Well, okay, at least we'll celebrate New Year's just the three of us, and that's somewhat dearer to me.
In the morning, I divide the unicorn hair into three parts. One I'll sell, another I'll put in Gringotts. The third I give to Dad so he can put it in the safe. Dad looks at the rolled-up bundle skeptically. I tell him how much they're worth, and now the hairs are in the safe with all due respect. Today we're going shopping, but first, we need to visit the goblins, make a deposit in my bright financial future.
Griphook's jaw dropped:
"There was no basilisk nearby, so you decided to cut a unicorn's hair?"
"Well, yes, from lesser to greater," poker face.
"Miss Granger," he hesitates, "I would like to offer to become your trustee. I feel you will surprise me more than once."
This is fortunate.
"Respected Griphook, I accept your offer," I say solemnly.
Griphook brings the standard trustee oath (this I extracted from Binns), I witness.
Today is the day for Christmas shopping, and in my joy, I'm buying everything I can reach. I bought Mom high-heeled shoes with charms of softness and stability, and Dad—expensive Swiss watches. For Neville and Professor Sprout—books about rare non-magical plants and candies. For Susan and Hannah—sets of unusual hairpins and hair ties, and also candies. For Justin and his parents—paired parchments. For Harry, I'm packing a textbook on artifacting, explaining in the letter that this is a Potter family talent, and that the book was co-authored by his great-grandfather. I even send a box of candies to Ron, although he's been huffing at me for the last month and a half. To Hagrid goes the book "Most Dangerous Animals in the World," let him look at the Muggle killer creatures too. I hope it doesn't occur to him to bring one of them to Hogwarts, I realize belatedly. To Dumbledore flew an owl with a dozen woolen socks of the most drug-induced colors—I'm sure other time-travelers couldn't resist either. For Mrs. Norris, I bought expensive cat food with vitamins—I won't send it by owl, I'll hand it to Filch after the holidays. I still maintain that she's quite a pest, but she's so mangy, it's pitiful to look at her. I also sent candies to Flitwick and Zacharias, and with that, the people to whom I wanted to give something were finished.
Mom looks amazing in her new dress. Maybe that's why she was happy about this reception—where else to wear such dresses? Ah, I wouldn't mind one like that either, but I'm twelve and flat; I'll have to wait about four years. The soirée wasn't as scary as I thought. Justin and I were asked about school, and I had to translate a couple of entertaining stories into a non-magical manner. And then they left me alone, so I stand, picking strawberries one by one from the plate and admiring the dancers. I don't even recognize most of today's dances; this one, I think, is a mazurka. Then a waltz played again, and Justin pulled me out to dance, explaining that it was his parents' initiative and I wouldn't be able to refuse anyway. I haven't danced for a hundred years; I'll probably get tangled up in my feet now. On the other hand, it's good that it's a waltz, not something more complex. Justin danced very well, and I gradually relaxed and even began to enjoy it.
The next morning, I was awakened by the tapping of beaks on the glass. I opened the window, and a crowd of owls with indignant hooting burst into the room. Some owls, trying to avenge the wait, wanted to peck me, and others didn't want to simply give up the packages, and I had to chase them.
Neville sent a miniature amaryllis in a pot. The flowers glowed slightly. Beautiful. I locked myself in the bathroom without light—the plant could be used as a living night light.
Susan and Hannah sent a vial each of "Sleekeazy's" for curly hair. Some Hufflepuffs sent magical sweets. Hagrid sent a book about Cerberuses. I wonder if this is a hint for us to enter the forbidden corridor, or truly from the heart? The Weasley family sent pies; when I took them in my hands, the ring didn't react. However, paranoia immediately whispered in my ear that it's still not worth eating them.
All day, Justin and I ran around the park, played snowballs, ice skated (I got skates from one of his cousins). In the evening, I could barely drag my feet—no wonder, several months without physical activity. Can't let it go like that.
I spent the rest of the holidays with my parents, resumed the tradition of doing morning exercises, and took midterm exams at a regular school. Soon back to Hogwarts, need to replenish tea supplies.