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Heri sighed heavily through her nose, the air expelled freezing as it went, making her resemble a dragon as it snorted smoke in warning. It was Christmas day, nearly lunchtime, and she was outside by the lake, sitting on a large boulder that was at the top of a large pile-up of stones. It was a good seven feet off the ground and a popular place for the older years to hang out. Heri was there that day because she needed to get out of the Castle. "Oh, but, Heri—" Megan had begun to protest when Heri had excused herself. Sally-Anne had hushed Megan with a pointed looked and tugged her along. Sally-Anne was the one that was the most sensitive to Heri's mood; she knew when Heri wasn't up to humouring a tag-along. It was decided that the two of them would remain inside for the festivities while Heri pulled herself back into a temperament that was suited for public appearance. It wasn't Heri's way to be a Grumpy Gus, especially during parties or celebrations, but there was just no hiding her discontent at the moment. She had received a Firebolt among her gifts that year, a Firebolt being an internationally recognised racing broom, the best broom currently on the market, the one that the professional league swore by. Megan had all but fainted when she saw it; her older sister had been raving about it when it first came out. Even Sally-Anne — the one notorious for her lack of appreciation for Quidditch — was mightily impressed. Naturally, they had went down to Christmas breakfast giddy with excitement, over the moon and ecstatic to show Professor Sprout; she had concerns that Heri wouldn't get a new broom in time for Hufflepuffs next match and would be relegated to one of the school brooms which were iffy at best. All that excitement got shot to hell when the professors learned the Firebolt came without a note. So what if it came without a note? She got dozens of anonymous gifts year round and they never made anything of those! And did they really think that Sirius Black was able to just walk into a sporting goods shop without any fuss? Why would he waste money on a broom worth more than all seven of the Nimbus 2001s that Malfoy had bribed his way onto the team with if he was going to buy a broom to jinx anyway? But none of those protest made a difference — Heri's Firebolt was confiscated for checking before she could even get one ride in. This Sirius Black business and all the paranoia that came with it was really starting to infuriate her. As if summoned by Heri's ire, Hedwig came flying out of nowhere and landed beside her. "Hedwig." Heri blinked. "Happy Christmas. What are you doing out here?" Hedwig spent most of her time either terrorising the owls in the owlery that she had turned into her acolytes or terrorising the denizens of the Forbidden Forest that she tormented like a wicked deity. Heri had yet to need to send out any letters during the school year, so Hedwig was largely free to do whatever she wanted. Provided she didn't kill anything important of course. Today, Hedwig was a parakeet, and she looked as out of place as . . . well, as out of place as a tropical bird in Scotland during the winter. She fluttered her wings importantly and stuck out one of her legs. Nonplussed, Heri saw that there was a letter tied to Hedwig's leg. There were several questions that could be asked at this time, but the most important in Heri's opinion was, "Someone approached a parakeet to deliver a letter?" Hedwig's warble was not an answer. Not knowing what else to do, Heri retrieved the letter and opened it. — Dear Heri, A Shuffling Whipplestumper has brought it to my attention that you're bothered by something. I don't know exactly what that something is, of course, but I thought a letter might make you feel better all the same. I would come in person but Daddy and I are in Newfoundland, looking for Muddy Prizzicks. I hope you liked the bracelet to keep away Nargles I made you for Christmas. I used the prettiest bottle-caps I could find, you know. I would have made you a necklace, but I think a bracelet suits you better. Hope you feel better, Luna P.S. W henever I'm feeling gloomy, I like to knit. Daddy calls it a ladylike hobby. It's a habit that runs through Mummy's family, you see. I thought maybe you'd like to take up needlework as well, since I find it very soothing. — The envelope Luna's letter came in appeared to be expanded on the inside. Carefully sticking her hand in, Heri pulled out sturdy white handkerchief set within an embroidery hoop. There was a faint outline of a flower in the cloth and a threaded needle was tucked into the side of the hoop. Heri stared at the readied handkerchief with no little bemusement. How Luna knew Heri needed cheering up, Heri would never know. Still, it was very sweet of her. Not seeing any reason not to, Heri began making tiny stitches along the flower outline. If there was one person that Hermione Granger could say with confidence that she hated, it was Heri Potter. Ever since first-year, Potter had been showing Hermione up in one way or another. If she wasn't being acclaimed as a transfiguration prodigy, she was turning in homework of a quality that Hermione slaved away for hours to research and write up while still having loads of time to goof around with her friends and being a general Queen Bee. It was so unfair! Hermione worked so much harder at being the top of the class and yet Potter just breezed through with nary a sweat. And she was on the Quidditch team. And she was pretty.