Despite Blaise's sharp expression upon them, Tom felt nothing but relief as he signed the list that ensured they would be staying at Hogwarts over the winter holidays. To not have to see the Dursleys until summer break was the most exquisite Christmas present they could ever receive. Not even the knowledge that Ron Weasley would be staying at the castle over break as well, with all of his siblings, could shatter that sense of relief. They could ignore him. His fellow conspirators were expelled, and the trial of some was coming up in a month (and what a nerve-wracking experience that would be, even with Snape preparing them). He'd tried to deliver a clumsy, awkward apology the day after he returned, but Jay had told him to kindly sod off, attempted murderers weren't welcome. Blunt and a trifle cruel, but Weasel got the point and bumbled away. Blue had felt bad and wondered if he'd been genuine, but her twin had explained to her that in all likelihood, it was a forced gesture by Weasel's mum. And in any case, Ron had tried to kill them, so apology or not, he could fuck off.

Hermione was also staying at Hogwarts over break, something Raven kept babbling about inside with high-pitched excitement. According to her, they could spend the entire break studying and reading and more studying and reading ahead and more studying and... Implausible but cute, and Tom didn't have the heart to quiet her. She'd had precious little to be excited about, and her first real friend being there for Christmas was more than enough reason to be happy.

Blaise and Theo were going home. The only Slytherin first year that seemed to be staying was a very reticent girl named Millicent Bulstrode. She looked hulking and vaguely unpleasant, but from their limited interaction with her, Tom knew most of that was merely shyness. The girl had a crippling phobia of talking around people, a fact that more than one older student had decided to use to humiliate a "slimy snake firstie" who couldn't fight back. They'd all done their best to protect her, but there was only so much a fellow first year could do, even one with loads of other people in his head, including a remnant of You Know Who, and the girl looked more and more harried every day. Break would hopefully be a more pleasant experience for her-and would be, if Tom and Jay had anything to say about it.

Snape had told Tom that for the duration of winter break, their sessions were canceled, a fact that they all appreciated. While they had been quite helpful in preparing the system for the upcoming trial (although having to fix Harry's memory for them grew tiring), Snape's odd behaviour had continued and in fact, grown even stronger. A few times, Jay had seen himwith muggle psychology books, as well. If he'd been more paranoid, he would have assumed they were in an attempt to discover more about Harry, but that couldn't be it, could it? After all, Snape was the Head of Slytherin House. He probably had a lot of weird mental shit to deal with in his students. And Hermione was well, Hermione. Not a surprise at all for her to grow fascinated with a subject like that.

The first day of holiday dawned grey and chill. The morning was noisy and boisterous, with exuberant farewells shouted everywhere as students queued up to either travel back via the Hogwarts Express or in a few cases, travel directly by fireplace. But by mid-afternoon, an eerie silence had descended over the castle and Harry found himself wandering the corridors aimlessly, marveling at the thick air of isolation that had dampened even his footsteps. He knew there were other people there, but even when he came across one, it seemed off. Cold and silent. It gave him the creeps and although he hated it, he preferred this idle wandering to sitting alone in his common room or dormitory. Millie was staying behind as well, but she seemed to have decided the best course of action was staying locked up in her dorm, and boys weren't allowed in the girls' side.

Hermione was cooped up in the library as usual, but Harry didn't want to read. He'd had enough of studying for the year, and couldn't understand why Hermione wasn't the same way. Surely the girl took a break once in a while? But no, she seemed to actually like studying for its own sake and while Harry didn't mind learning or even picking up a book or two for fun, he couldn't identify with the single-minded devotion Hermione paid to her studies.

So it was a fairly gloomy-minded Slytherin first year who trailed down the echoing corridors until finally, he stumbled across a locked door. He stopped, brow creased in puzzlement. That was unusual. It was only the third-floor corridor. Most of the locked rooms were on the higher floors, spiraling up into the towers. Harry looked around. The torches flickered merrily, casting dancing shadows on the stone walls. Nobody was around, and for once, Harry felt a tug of bravery flare to life.

He wanted to find out what was behind the locked door.

Tugging on it produced no results. He'd try to kick it in, but he was far too weak and anyway, the noise it would create would bring loads of attention. He was about to give it up for the day when a spell slipped through his mind. It was one he was almost certain he'd never seen before, though oddly familiar. Bringing his wand up with almost dreamy slowness, Harry pointed it at the lock and whispered, "Alohomora!"

And the door creaked open.

A thrill of delighted excitement shivered down Harry's spine and he pushed it further open, slipping inside and pausing to let his eyes adjust to the darkness.

Only to soon wish he hadn't because there was an enormous dog with three heads in the room, overpowering the room honestly, and all three of its heads were now fixated on Harry. Thick ropes of slobber splattered against the floor and the rusted bronze ring of a trapdoor set almost directly beneath the dog. Cerberus, his mind supplied helpfully, only how was that meant to be helpful? Knowing what was about to bloody kill him!

A slow snarl rattled out of the dog's chest, enough to break Harry's paralysis. He turned, grabbed the door open, and sprinted out, slamming it shut against the ragged trio of howls and a massive paw that slipped out for a brief second, one claw snagging the hem of his robes and dragging a shallow, narrow gash down his leg. Collapsing against the wall, Harry sobbed for breath, wincing with pain as the sting of the dog's scratch made itself known. He pulled his robes up and gasped. It was messy. Bloody, but not too deep. He tore off a strip from the now tattered bottom of his robes and wound it around his leg, knowing that he should go to the Hospital Wing and knowing that he wouldn't. It was just a scratch, after all. Nothing big.

Still, he thought as he pulled himself to his feet and began to make his way shakily back to his dormitory, he'd had more than enough of exploring for one day!