A/N: Congratulations to Mavarax, and duffman.c.d who answered the first riddle, Lance Corporal Avocado, who got the second (and had two solutions) and Pavitra, who got both, including a different logical solution for the first (Pavitra's solution is credited to Mandy in this chapter). Note - I won't be doing any more shout-outs for solutions to the first riddle, since I'm revealing it in this Chapter. Thanks to the guest reviewer for the Brit-pick about the pound-sign properly coming before the numerals, I went back and fixed that. And kudos to sharp-eyed reviewer Pendantech for catching the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy reference I couldn't resist dropping in. -)

Also, hi, /r/rational! I'd been giving the view statistics my best McGonagall eyebrow and wondering what had caused the ridiculous (in relative terms) spike in views… I read Reddit, but don't have an account, I'll probably make one some time so I can drop in - threads there seem a lot more convenient for discussion than the PM system on FF dot net.

o-o-o-o-o

Chapter 8 - Interpersonal Development

Hermione sat at the Ravenclaw table, trying to eat breakfast despite her unsettled stomach. She really ought to have done it last night, as soon as she got back to the Tower. But the other students in her year had made no effort to approach her - quite the opposite, in fact. The occasional looks she'd received were either cold, or hurt, and that just made everything worse. Because she felt she deserved those looks, if not for the reasons they thought she did.

Every time she'd tried to gather her courage to walk up to someone and just explain as Professor McGonagall had recommended, a wave of shame had stopped her. Because it wasn't just that she'd handled this poorly - on top of that, the situation itself was inherently unfair to them, and she even agreed that it was probably best regardless. All of which made her guilt genuine and hard to argue away. In the end, everyone had gone to bed without a word to Hermione, and she'd convinced herself that it might not seem so bad after a night's sleep. They'd all be together at breakfast and she could just explain and apologize.

Except that at breakfast, she'd found herself surrounded by a little zone of empty space, no one immediately across from her or to either side, and having said nothing last night, it now seemed even harder to be the first to break that silence. On top of that, she'd grown accustomed to this sort of shunning behaviour before coming to Hogwarts, and her old habits of non-engagement were seductively easy to slip back into.

When owls swept into the Great Hall for morning deliveries, it was a welcome distraction. Hermione was actually surprised when a rolled bundle dropped into her lap, as she hadn't expected any replies to her inquiries quite so promptly. However, a glance showed that it wasn't letters, but a copy of the Daily Prophet. That had been one of the things on her list, and she'd only remembered at the last minute to owl off money for subscriptions for both her and her parents, along with the other letters she'd sent. Her talk with the Transfiguration professor and her subsequent social anxiety had pushed it entirely out of her head until this moment.

The delivery attracted some glances her way...reading was quite common at the Ravenclaw table, of course, but it was usually books. The few students with Daily Prophet subscriptions were largely concentrated among Seventh-years, obsessive quidditch fans, and Slytherins. For a moment Hermione thought Morag was about to say something, and even if it was snide she would've welcomed it as an opening, but the girl only sniffed and went back to her breakfast. Nor did anyone seem inclined to go against the example she set, once established.

Hermione resolved to just read the newspaper and try not to think about it until Transfiguration...she told herself she could just explain to everyone then, and it'd be better since the professor would be present to verify if anyone didn't believe her. But even with the pages held up to hide her housemates from view, she still found herself having to re-read whole paragraphs before they sunk in and occasionally puzzling over unfamiliar references. When a certain article finally registered on her, she poured back over it, eyes flicking quickly down the columns.

As promised, your humble correspondent continues today her unflinching examination of the troubling state of education in Britain. Loyal readers of my column know from reading yesterday's article that Madam Poppy Pomfrey, Matron at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, was discovered dead as the apparent result of a rare potions mishap.

A tumultuous storm of unanswered questions continues to whirl about the dark affair. How could such an accident take place? What was the precise nature of the potion which went so tragically wrong? Was Madam Pomfrey indulging in reckless experimentation, at the risk of innocent students? Were dangerous ingredients being smuggled into Hogwarts under the very noses of supposedly responsible administrators? Or was this event the result of incompetence...on the part of those who judged the victim a trustworthy practitioner of medical magic?

Any responsible citizen - certainly any good parent - must ask, if we cannot trust the staff of this once-respected institution to keep even themselves safe and healthy, how can we entrust them with the lives of our very children, the future of this great nation?

Left there, the situation would be grim indeed, but this story may take an even darker turn. In the course of my tireless efforts to uncover the truth on behalf of a public hungry for knowledge, I was turned aside. For Hogwarts itself has been sealed against entry or exit to anyone, even the most respected members of the press!

Albus Dumbledore, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards and Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (if you think that is a mouthful to say, just imagine the inadvisable level of overwork required to hold such positions simultaneously), has informed the Ministry via owl that the total interdiction of Hogwarts is "temporary", and due to "routine testing of Hogwarts wards and security".

This excuse seems rather convenient, in that it is shielding the school from any scrutiny...scrutiny that might otherwise suggest incompetence at Hogwarts runs even deeper than the support staff. I would be remiss if I did not also note that this unusual restriction has prevented even aurors from performing a formal inquest, though an official statement by a DMLE spokeswizard claimed no such inquest was "deemed necessary".

While, in the face of such frustrating - if not indeed nefarious, as some rumors have suggested - obstacles to public disclosure, a less reputable writer than I might indulge in chilling speculation unworthy of these hallowed pages, you may rest assured my quill will not lie fallow for long, for if there is evidence to be uncovered, I consider it my solemn duty to bring it into the light for all to see.

Loyal Servant of Truth,

Rita Skeeter

Hermione frowned deeply as she tried to parse all this. Early on in Hermione's precocious development, her parents had noted her instinctive deference to printed material. They'd actually tried to keep her from reading newspapers as long as they could, until her arguments became too sensible to avoid. At which point they had made a point of explaining that while there were ostensibly standards for scholarship in newspaper articles, they were much looser, and she should be wary of innuendo or opinion stated as fact.

Still, the whole tone of the...article?...opinion piece?...was baffling. Nearly everything Hermione had read previously agreed that Hogwarts was the best magical school in Europe (indeed, most writers extended this comparison to the entire world, though Hermione had noticed there was very little mention in general of magical education on other continents). This woman, whoever she was, seemed inclined to jump to the worst conclusions, even considering that there had been a death at the school.

If what the article had mentioned about Hogwarts being sealed was true, it seemed odd that she hadn't heard any mention of it. That note about the Forbidden Forest at the welcome feast sort of implied that students occasionally wandered outside the walls, or it wouldn't have needed to be explicitly forbidden. And she'd read that later-years were allowed to visit Hogsmeade, the village adjacent to the school, on certain weekends, but those visits wouldn't begin for some weeks. Perhaps no one had noticed? Or maybe just this particular journalist had been barred from the grounds, which given her writing, Hermione didn't think all that unlikely...though that would have required her to have completely made up the bit about the Ministry having been informed.

It occurred to her that the question might be of general interest, which presented an opportunity to try to reverse her isolation. She took a couple of deep breaths and tried to banish her fears of social catastrophe, then lowered the paper and turned to the nearest student outside her little circle of exclusion, who happened to be Terry Boot. He and Michael were deep into tall stacks of pancakes with whipped cream and strawberries that they'd apparently successfully bludgeoned out of the house elves via strategic gratitude.

"Um...excuse me…?" she essayed once, then repeated herself, more loudly.

"Eh? What?" asked Terry. He looked confused and glanced briefly at Morag, as if unsure whether he'd missed something that made it okay to talk to Hermione again, but the girl's dour expression was not encouraging.

"I just wondered if anyone had heard anything about Hogwarts being 'sealed'...not letting anyone go in or out? Other than owls, I suppose, since clearly they've not been stopped...anyway, I've just read an article that's mentioned it..." Hermione continued, doggedly. Terry only shook his head without elaboration, and Hermione was chalking up the attempt at conversation as a definite failure when Mandy, on her other side, unexpectedly spoke up.

"I did, sort of. I didn't know it was a general thing, but after dinner last night Lavender was in the lav outside the Great Hall, whinging that when she'd asked McGonagall for her or someone to chaperone her to the Ollivander's in Hogsmeade to pick out a new wand, the Professor said that no one would be available for the near future. And when she said she'd just get one of her parents to come and take her, the Professor said they wouldn't be able to because of some official school business, and she'd just have to wait. She kept going on about how unfair it was, that it was probably a conspiracy to let the other students catch up a bit since she's so naturally gifted." The girl raised her hands, one still holding a fork, to make finger quotes around the last bit. "Which sounds even more rubbish than what generally comes out of her mouth. But she swore the other stuff was true."

Several Ravenclaws, Hermione included, turned to crane their necks past the intervening Hufflepuffs toward the Gryffindor table, and sure enough, Lavender did seem to be in a foul mood. They couldn't hear what she was saying, but from the expressions of the unlucky students seated near her, it seemed reasonable to assume she was still complaining.

"That's too bad, Hermione," said Morag, as everyone had turned back to the table. "I suppose that means you'll have to keep letting her use your wand, and we all know how you feel about sharing, don't we?" Hermione felt a wave of heat rising up her neck, and was horrified to feel her throat closing up a little. In her experience, when someone was deliberately being horrid to her, crying had always made things worse. Not that knowing that necessarily helped. She desperately tried to force her indignation at the injustice of the situation to bubble up...if she was angry enough, she'd be too distracted…

"Ok, look, Morag, that's just…" But she realized couldn't say it was factually untrue, because as much as she enjoyed being helpful, Hermione genuinely didn't like letting Lavender borrow her wand. "...you're just taking things the wrong way," she finished, a little lamely.

"Huh, Charms and 'how to take things'...see, Morag, there's two things she's willing to help us with, guess you were wrong…" chimed in Padma. Morag smirked at the jibe, and Hermione felt the beginnings of gathering moisture at her lower eyelids. For whatever reason, the Scottish girl had seemed to be increasingly alert for a chance to snipe, but while it might have been rather early to call her a friend, Hermione had liked Padma, and hearing her join in as well was too much.

"For your information, I couldn't help with Transfiguration," she shot back, hotly. "Professor McGonagall made me promise not to!" The nearby Ravenclaws greeted this declaration with skeptical looks.

"Why on earth would she do that?" demanded Morag, in tones dripping with scorn.

"I can't tell you, exactly, that's part of it. I can say she thought it might be dangerous," offered Hermione. "But she's studying...ah, the issue, and if she eventually decides its safe she can include it in her lessons." Morag narrowed her eyes.

"That doesn't make any sense. Why would it be dangerous for us, but not for you?" Because none of you seem to have learned nearly as much science as I have, Hermione thought, and a little knowledge can be more dangerous than a lot? But she couldn't say that.

"I...can't explain it without explaining the whole thing. If you don't believe me, you're welcome to ask Professor McGonagall," Hermione said, wearily.

"We don't have Transfiguration today," pointed out Stephen Cornfoot. Hermione was startled to realize he was right...their final Transfiguration session of the week was tomorrow, Thursday. She wasn't sure why she'd assumed it was later today, she must have slept even more poorly than she'd thought.

"That seems awfully convenient," noted Morag.

"So ask her tomorrow, then, or walk right up to the Head Table if you can't wait!" The expressions around her showed suspicion, and Hermione nearly started sobbing then and there, but she couldn't bear the idea of breaking down in front of Morag, and if she tried to leave as quickly as she wanted to, she'd probably trip over the bench and look even worse. She made a concerted effort to concentrate on breathing evenly, instead.

"If the Professor told you not to help us, why didn't you just say that?" asked Padma, in an echo of the hurt confusion she'd shown in class. Hermione slumped, bowing her head.

"I really, really ought to have. I just...I wasn't sure what I could say, and I…" She took another breath to calm herself, and tried to met Padma's eyes. "I thought if you thought I was...'conspiring' with the Professor, you might like me even less."

For a moment, while this remark was absorbed, no one said anything.

"Um, if you thought this-" said Mandy, breaking the silence and waving a hand at the no-mans-land around Hermione's place at the table, "would be better…" She trailed off and there was another pause, until Kevin let out a snicker, and then other laughs joined him. Hermione herself couldn't help but let out a few strangled half-chuckles, as she realized the laughter wasn't malicious...even she could see the absurdity of it, once it'd been pointed out.

Hermione noticed that Morag MacDougal did not join in, and that there was a certain amount of not-looking in her direction on the part of the others. Had she actively convinced everyone to act the way they had? The part of her that still worried about the Sorting being biased and unfair noted that unpleasant qualities could be found outside of Slytherin, and was encouraged - in an entirely academic way - as that supported her theory. But a much stronger impulse reminded her that it was unfair to assume behavior was the result of inherent attributes, rather than otherwise understandable circumstances she just didn't happen to have all the details of.

o-o-o

In Charms, Hermione did indeed have to loan her wand to Lavender, and in her continual nattering, everything Mandy had reported was confirmed several times over. She tuned out the Gryffindor, instead giving some thought to how her House fit together, at least in her own year. Mandy seemed very sharp. That first night, while Hermione had quickly figured out the answer she assumed the knocker wanted to hear...because the numbers of knuts added up to make one sickle, the man had been a farmer - a lot of riddles involved silly puns that way, the American riddle she'd remembered hinged on the double-meaning of the phrase "quarter to two", and also involved coins. But Mandy had offered a completely different solution, arguably more logical - that if the man was "leaving" things to his sons, he was dead, and thus had no profession - and indeed, the knocker had complimented her on sound logic and opened the door.

Terry, Michael and Anthony seemed to be making a point of sitting and walking together. Hermione still marveled at how some people just seemed to be able to instantly make friends, and envied them. She'd read How to Win Friends and Influence People years ago, of course, once she'd identified she had a problem in that area, but she couldn't seem to effectively put its recommendations into practice. Something about that thought prompted the mental tickle that signaled the beginnings of an idea, but she didn't try to force it...that was something she'd read in a different book that she had been able to internalize.

Padma appeared to be as curious about everything as Hermione was, which might have been why she'd felt an early kinship, even if it was based only on sharing a train car and a couple days of classes. Kevin Entwhistle was similar, though he was much more quiet about it. He was muggle-born like her, but he seemed to be taking longer to adjust to the strangeness of everything here. Whereas Su Li was just plain quiet...she very rarely spoke, but when she did, it usually showed she'd been paying attention and thinking the whole time.

Morag often walked to classes with Stephen Cornfoot. Hermione wasn't sure what they talked about, but Stephen hadn't shown any of the animosity Morag had, he seemed to just want to concentrate on studying and homework and if he had interests beyond that, she hadn't seen any sign of it yet. Which left Morag herself.

She was smart, and knew a thousand little details of magical life that Hermione hadn't encountered yet. But why she seemed to take such satisfaction in making trouble for Hermione was a mystery. She wondered if simply asking the girl would help, or only make things worse. Maybe if she just made an effort to be nice to her no matter what, she'd change her mind...that was a pretty good policy in general, anyway.

This thought brought a fresh surge of guilt about how she'd been thinking of Lavender, so Hermione put her thoughts into practice and focused on calmly helping the Gryffindor no matter how many times she disparaged Hermione's wand. Though now that she was paying closer attention, she noticed Lavender had been doing that a little less...maybe she'd realized she had no idea how long she'd need to rely on it for Charms classes and was trying to make the best of it, in her own way.

o-o-o

Herbology passed uneventfully, and Hermione was pleased to discover from the seating and conversation at lunch that her isolation had in fact broken, though Morag's expression said she was reserving judgment until Thursday. This left her with nothing but free periods and dinner before curfew; normally her Flying class would be Wednesday afternoons with Hufflepuff, but for whatever reason, that class didn't start until the second week. As she walked to the Library, she started mentally blocking out how best to spend her time.

Obviously she'd continue her research on house elves, but she decided to block out at least an hour for seeing if there were any spells that could help her find books in the Library, or make sense of Madam Pince's organization...success there would make everything else much easier. Similarly, checking to see if there were any rigorous studies of which muggle technology stopped working around Hogwarts and why seemed worth an hour or two...if there was any way around that, a computer would be much more convenient for organizing and revising her own notes than all of this endless quill-scratching. And she wanted to finish reading the Daily Prophet, now that she was less distracted, since it was a pretty good-

Hermione stumbled to a halt in the corridor, her mouth agape in horror.

The Daily Prophet. Which held at least one article referencing Madam Poppy's death, and which had presumably also been delivered to her parents' house this morning. But they had no way of telephoning her, or sending a letter, nor could they find the Leaky Cauldron or Hogwarts without a witch's help, and even if they could, they'd be refused entry to the school…and the article had been so unfavorable...

Hermione sprinted towards the owlry, stopping only briefly at the first empty classroom she passed to hastily scrawl out a letter at one of the desks.

When she reached the owlry, Hermione skimmed over the letter a couple times. She was very concerned that her parents might react poorly and just give up the whole magic thing as a bad job, pulling her out of Hogwarts...and the more frustration they encountered trying to find out what was going on, the more likely that seemed. She felt a bit guilty about trying to manipulate them with the bit about making friends "if I'm here long enough", but not guilty enough that she wanted to leave it out. It was still technically true, after all.

She approached one of the common owls - distinguished from student-owned owls by small anklets that bore the Hogwarts crest. - and realized she might be able to get some direct information.

"Hello. Can you understand English in general, or only directions for delivering things?" The tawny owl cocked its head at her.

"Er, nod if you can understand English?" The owl bobbed its head. "Ok...can you deliver things directly to a muggle, or better, to a muggle house, even if there aren't any witches or wizards there at the moment?" Hermione had changed her question after imagining one of her parents receiving a bizarre newspaper delivered by owl while they were in their office, or on the tube or something. The owl nodded again.

"Ok, good. Can you understand when muggles ask you to do things, or take something somewhere?" The bird cocked its head. "Hmm. Nod if you can't understand when muggles speak to you." Another head-tilt. Maybe it had just never been spoken to by a muggle...or it couldn't tell them apart? Hermione shrugged.

"Well, here's a letter for my parents. If they're at the house when you deliver it, and it seems like they want to write back, please wait. If they try to pet you or give you crackers or something, it's probably safe to come back." The owl blinked at the word 'crackers', but lifted one foot, claws spread, and Hermione handed over the letter. It was in an envelope she'd folded out of spare parchment and addressed after she finished writing it.

Once the owl had taken flight, she removed her list of study topics from her bag and added a couple of clarifying notes to the line about owls, then resumed her interrupted journey to the Library.

o-o-o

Dear Mum and Dad,

I'm not sure if you've read the paper yet - the Daily Prophet, I mean - but first let me stress that everything is okay. If you haven't read it yet, there was an accident and one of the staff died. But it was apparently a freak occurrence and very well-contained, so there's no reason to think it's anything but a tragic isolated incident. Remember, one of the main reasons Hogwarts is so well-regarded is they have a very good reputation for student welfare, I'm not sure how plausible Rita Skeeter's insinuations are.

If you did read it, I'm sorry if you worried. I should've thought to make sure we bought an owl for you to keep at home so you could send letters to me as easily as I can send them to you, and I'll try to work that out the first chance I get...I'm not sure if you can owl-order an actual owl, would it deliver itself? But I am fine, everyone is fine here, really. I'm doing well enough in my classes so far, though we haven't had any quizzes or tests as such yet, so I can't be certain. I'm actually going to be tutoring one of my Professors in a few of the sciences that witches and wizards don't seem to understand very well, which might turn out to be pretty important even for magic. Oh, and I was sorted into Ravenclaw house, they actually have their own entirely separate library in the dorm (I'm sleeping in the top of a tower, the view is lovely), so I have plenty of reading material.

I'm trying to get along with the other Ravenclaw students. It hasn't been exactly easy so far, but it's much better than my old school, and I do seem to have more in common with them. I think if I'm here long enough, I might eventually make some actual friends, which is a strange feeling, but it makes me happy to think about.

Anyway, I'll send you a longer letter later with more details about my classes and magic and all this weirdness, but I just wanted to get something to you quickly so you wouldn't worry.

I'll tell the owl that brought this to wait, in case you want to send something back. If you don't have time, or if it doesn't listen to me about waiting, just have something ready for the next one. If you tell it you have a letter for me as soon as it shows up, it should take it, though I haven't had time to find out for sure yet if owls only understand people who can do magic. If I haven't received any reply after my next two letters, I'll assume there's a problem there and work something else out.

Love,

Hermione