Chapter 2: Confluence

Inside a magical castle surrounded by a dangerous lake, a forbidden forest and insurmountable Scottish Highland peaks overlooking the wizarding village of Hogsmeade, Headmistress McGonagall rubbed her temples while waiting for the available staff to answer a summon to her office. Harry hadn't arrived as requested after leaving the infirmary and some portraits relayed that he was last seen rushing out of Hogwarts at a deadly run.

"Worry not, Minerva. I'm certain Harry is merely out for a flight, you do remember his love for broomstick flying?"

Minerva McGonagall hadn't even spared a glance at the portrait of the deceased white-bearded Headmaster, but her temper betrayed her at last. "He's missing again, Albus! Open your eyes and ears for once and understand my words. Harry. Is. Not. Well!"

"Allow the boy to enjoy his freedom. Merlin knows I've denied him much of it," the portrayed Dumbledore spoke, "He has saved an entire world, after all, and now he is simply happy!"

A deep growl characteristic of large felines issued from the current Headmistress' throat, and she turned to face Dumbledore's likeness squarely. "Do you want to know how I found him two weeks ago? How a frantic house-elf dragged me into the most ancient and filthy parts of Hogwarts to find Harry sprawled on cold marble floor?"

Minerva took a deep breath and continued her tirade, "I'll tell you Albus. He was drowning in a pool of his own blood! He-- Merlin he could have died there if I'd been five minutes too late, do you believe a happy person would do that to himself?"

Taken aback by these words, Dumbledore sagged inside his frame and blinked. "I do not understand... Harry and I spoke after Tom's defeat, he agreed to do as I told him and the boy was fine."

"Hence we arrive at the crux of the matter, Albus. You told him what to do. We have been telling him what to do all his miserable life!" she exclaimed and sat back on her chair. "Harry never spoke of what happened in the forest. I can only imagine, from what Ms Granger explained to me regarding a certain prophecy and those abominations Riddle created."

A gasp sounded and Dumbledore's beard twitched.

"Ah, that's right. You asked Harry never to reveal their existence, didn't you Albus? You set him on wild goose chase, trusting the universe to fulfil a ridiculous prophecy uttered by a deranged woman all by itself?"

The portrayed Headmaster stood straighter before replying, "In my defence, Minerva, I can proudly say Ronald, Hermione and Harry exceeded my expectations and that I gave them the tools to succeed."

"Tools to succeed?" McGonagall asked. She had sat with Hermione for a full-disclosure afternoon talk, in which her former pupil recounted their perilous journey. "A children's story book? A trinket for an unstable boy and a useless memento?" she kept asking with an ever louder voice. "My dear Albus, our complete destruction didn't come to pass only because of Riddle's own misjudgement. Do not flatter yourself..."

All the other portraits stood to attention, either frowning at such disrespect for one of their own or simply trying to understand the discussion. Inside the newest painting, however, one of the briefest Headmasters ever to serve kept a smug smirk in his painted lips despite the fact he was still in the process of animating himself.

"As you wish, Minerva. I sincerely hope you find Harry then..."

With a huff, the Headmistress turned and called for whoever was knocking her door to enter. The door cracked open and Madame Pomfrey entered, followed by Hagrid and, unfortunately, Sybil Trelawney the Divination Professor.

"Sybil, what can I help you with?" McGonagall asked with a pained sigh.

"The cards, Minerva, the cards! I've read them for that poor, poor boy... The Magician and the High Priestess fell before Death... And then," Trelawney paused for the suspense effect, "The Lovers!"

McGonagall tilted her head at her staffed professor and bit down a few choice remarks, instead opting for a simple "Is there anything you might extract from this ... divination of yours that can actually help us locate Mr Potter?"

"He's fallen in love with death, don't you see?"

Fighting the urge to bang her forehead against the solid wooden table, she politely dismissed her. "Yes, well. Thank you Sybil... Hagrid, did you find any sign of him anywhere?"

"No, I've found 'em set o' footsteps by the lake, but 'em are too wide ter belong ter Harry. I'm sorry Headmistress!" the half-giant wailed and blew his nose.

"Nor has he returned to the infirmary," added Madame Pomfrey.

"What's ter say Harry just don't wanna be found?" asked Hagrid, folding his kerchief around the other side.

"I understand Mr Potter is an adult, and free to do as he pleases," the Headmistress told her friends, "but I'll be damned if I let him succeed in what he intended to do to himself the week before last..."

The strained silence was broken by a cough and a voice. "If I may contribute, Headmistress," spoke the portrait belonging to Phineas Nigellus, former headmaster, "you might find Potter by scrying for his whereabouts?"

"We do not possess any traces of his magical core in order to do so, but thank you all the same Phineas," said McGonagall, wishing they had at least a lock of hair for a weak tracking spell that might point them in the right direction. She was almost about to suggest releasing an owl and following it on broomsticks.

"That, may not be entirely correct," Dumbledore interrupted, drawing everyone's attention to him, the annoying twinkle in his eyes still present even on flat canvas.

The room fell silent, except for Hagrid's sobbing, and McGonagall turned ever so slowly to scowl at her predecessor. It wasn't school policy to keep tracking charms or collect magic samples from any pupil, unless required for healing procedures, and she had always followed Harry's recurrent stays in the infirmary, so she knew it had never been necessary for him. "Care to explain yourself, Albus?"

"This kind of information is quite sensitive, I'm afraid," he replied, looking at the assembled professors in turn.

"Very well. Poppy, Hagrid, thank you for your help. Sybil, if you please?" she said and escorted them outside, before closing the door and marching up to the wall. "Explain."

"We're fortunate enough to--"

"Wait... Albus I'm sorry for doing this," McGonagall said with honest regret in her voice, "I am commanding you, by the power granted through my position as Headmistress of Hogwarts, to reveal everything related to Harry Potter, including information you possess regarding Riddle's abominations."

The portrayed wizard suddenly aged beyond his years, Dumbledore's likeness was bound to obey the acting headmaster by magic itself. "You may wish to bring me into your quarters for privacy, Minerva," he said and removed his painted hat, before turning solemn eyes to her.

The Headmistress levitated his frame out of the wall and into her assigned chambers, leaning the portrait against a bottle of Ogden's Finest 27 Year Old Firewhiskey and sat in front of him, waiting for his words.

Dumbledore began by relaying the exact text of a prophecy he witnessed before Harry was even born and how he tried everything to protect the families most likely to fit the description. Described how he had failed and how he was forced to choose the lesser of evils by placing him under the care of Petunia Dursley because of blood protections that kept Voldemort away.

He explained his surprise at finding Sirius Black's innocence so many years later, and his desire to keep knowledge of the prophecy away from Harry and his constant link to Voldemort. Dumbledore explained everything Harry had told him about what happened every year in Hogwarts; possessed professors, basilisks, murdering traitors, necromancy rituals, fake visions leading to a Ministry raid, the headmaster's death and surviving the extraction of a horcrux.

The former headmaster explained his suspicions about Riddle's quest for immortality by creating horcruxi and how he identified almost all of their vessels. Dumbledore explained how a children's tale is not a myth but true magical power, for the Deathly Hallows are real and the prophecy allowed Harry to collect them. Furthermore, Harry was a horcrux and only death could set him free.

Albus Dumbledore confessed Harry had much to die for, yet little to live for.

In the hours it took for the story to be told, as well as many, many questions to be answered, McGonagall felt her respect and admiration for Harry grow even more, yet she also felt shame and regret. She wondered how much she'd helped make young Harry's life more miserable.

In the end, however, those feelings gave way to anger. "You despicable old fool! Using his love and righteousness to sacrifice himself willingly? Was that the best you could think of?" McGonagall yelled. "I can't-- I cannot deal with this right now. Where's Mr Potter's magic trace?"

Dumbledore hesitated, before saying "You will hate me forever once you learn of this, I'm afraid."

Her eyes narrowed dangerously, "Albus? What have you done?"

"Breathe." In and out, simple and natural. "Breathe," he commanded again, fighting the memories of the dead.

Harry had left Hogwarts behind and plunged into the wild, forcing his way forward like a swollen river following the curves of the earth. He'd called for the stone and proceeded to tilt the balance, breaching the invisible and supposedly impenetrable veil between worlds in the same forest and in the same clearing where he willingly sacrificed himself. Last time it was an act of resignation, of deliverance and of love. This time, Harry wanted answers.

"Breathe," he whispered again and fisted the Resurrection Stone. He needed to ask him.

The wind had picked up again, the noon sun beaming down cast the shortest shadows of the day and all manner of creatures took refuge in the shadow of the trees. Harry was hunched over, his head bent to the ground and one knee deep into the earth. The Hogwarts cloak that was clean and wrinkle-free this morning were now stained and filled with twigs and ripped in some parts, as were his clothes and battered trainers.

He waited and stilled his breath, eyes closed and a thousand thoughts swirling through his messy-haired head. The memories didn't stop.

"Harry Potter sir?"

Silence, and a smile.

"Harry Potter sir! I is so happy to see yous, Harry Potter sir!"

"Hello Dobby," he greeted the silvery house-elf.

"Oh, but Dobby isn't to bes here... Harry Potter sir must not calls for Dobby. Dobby pains for Harry Potter sir..." the small creature said and used his hands to pull both his ears down to the sides of his face.

Harry then sat on the ground, occupying the same spot where he was struck down by an unforgivable killing curse, and toyed with the cracked stone mounted on a golden ring. He knew he had control over Dobby's renewed presence on this plane, despite the elf's knowledge that he isn't supposed to be here. Harry believed the same to be true about himself; Harry wasn't supposed to be here.

"What's it like-- What does it feel to be free, Dobby?"

Lifting his face to meet the translucent tennis-ball-sized eyes in front of him, Harry met his dead friend's disbelieving gaze. Dobby had been an obsessed and slightly deranged house-elf, yet his heart was in the right place, and it shattered into a thousand pieces at the despaired sight of his Harry Potter sir sitting in front of him.

"I is free-elf in Dobby's heart and mind," the dead house-elf replied. "I is choosing to be frees even before Harry Potter sir trick bad Malfoyses into giving Dobby clothes... Dobby is frees because I has choice to die for Harry Potter sir... I feels good to be free. Dobby is very happy, and I is more happier to serve and to help Harry Potter and Harry Potter's friends, because I is doing it by choice!"

Harry listened carefully, trying to understand what it meant to be free. "Then why can't I choose to--"

"Dobby knows Harry Potter sir is sad, but Harry Potter sir doesn't wants freedom. What Harry Potter sir wants is not to feel anything at all," Dobby stated with a tone of finality and judgement in his voice Harry had never heard from him while the elf was alive.

Startled by these words, the wizard quelled a surge of anger and looked away from his dead friend's penetrating eyes. "No, Dobby is wrong!" he yelled, "I want-- I want to be free to feel the good things! Love and friendship and happiness..."

Dobby bounced on the balls of his feet, not knowing what else to do to comfort and bring his wizard friend away from the path he was travelling. He watched Harry shake his head and a sudden spark flickered in his dull, empty eyes for an instant before dying back again. The concerned dead house-elf couldn't do anything more than witness the internal struggle.

"Only death sets you free," Harry kept hearing those five words, urging him to do the deed.

"Yes! That's what I want!" he screamed back at the voice, "I want to be free with the ones that are gone..."

"Only death sets you free."

"The living are better off without me..." he tried to argue, justifying his actions somehow.

"Only death sets you free."

"I'll still feel sorrow on the other side..." he realized with a start, "I'll still crave for freedom on the other side because I've never been free..."

"Only death sets you free."

"Do I have the power to be free like Dobby was? Can I always make a choice?"

"Only death sets you free."

"I can choose life or death, freedom or bondage, love or hate and everything in between... I can actually choose to forgive or punish myself for the dead!"

"Only death sets you free."

"I choose-- I choose to be the master of my own devices. I choose to be the master of my own life."

"You are the Master of Death."

Harry kept his head low, eyes forcefully shut and hands gripping at chunks of his ebony hair, locked in a battle of wills against his own magic, against himself within the vast realm of Harry Potter.

He never sensed the elder centaur approaching with perfect silent strides, angry at the human intrusion, furious at the wizard's unbalancing magic. The centaur pulled a selected arrow from his quiver, aimed his ancient bow and tensed the string. Silent as the breeze. Ten feet from Harry's back he stood, and with a steady breath, released the deathly arrow straight to his heart.

Pain. A bout of pain rivalling that of the cruciatus curse shot through his spine and spread over bone, muscle and skin, invading his limbs and crawling to the base of Harry's skull. He fell forward and lost his grip on the Resurrection Stone, releasing Dobby from this world. He didn't have a chance to thank him for explaining what it means to be free.

Looking down at himself, Harry watched half of the golden arrow protruding from his chest, its sharp arrowhead crafted from the hardest diamond now covered in blood. His blood. He knew the centaurs could do it for him. The world slowly closed around him while he pondered on the irony of how his former desire would be granted right after he'd decided not to die just yet. "Fate's a bitch..." he whispered.

A minute later, the elder centaur sighed and rested the ancient bow across his chest, before twirling a few braided tendrils of his beard with his fingers and gently galloping towards the fallen wizard. The herd leaders had been summoned shortly after the great evil was defeated for the falling of Mars and its implications, and they had unanimously requested the highest honourable death for the hallowed one that would trespass their domain again.

Death by ceremonial arrow was reserved only for the greatest of beings.

Chiron embraced his task as it was written in the stars, and promised the eternal heavens to avoid his prior mistake of teaching mankind in the ways of magic. However, the expected power that would breach the sacred forest had sparked his curiosity with its remarkably ambiguous nature, suffering the antagonistic duality of being both dead and alive at the same time. His arrow would most certainly put an end to that.

He looked into the forest to see the herd leaders and lower centaurs bow their heads and retreat, except for Firenze, whose sorrow was heart wrenching. Deciding to allow the lower centaur a moment of reconciliation with the ways of the universe, Chiron circled the fallen wizard and watched him struggle to stay alive.

This intrigued Chiron deeply, for the human should be already dead, his aim was perfect and no living creature could survive a ceremonial golden arrow through the heart once it struck. His healer nature prompted him to touch the inferior being, and he was surprised to feel a beating heart.

"How can this be?"

"Oh, you know ... decided not to die and such ... arrow hurts like hell though," Harry answered between clenched teeth.

The mighty centaur blinked. His braided beard twitched and he suddenly squared his back. "A child crossed over the looking glass, dead in life and alive in death; neither here nor there it was, the mighty river blurs its path..." whispered Chiron, before bending slightly and looking at the bleeding wizard again. "A specular reflection!"

He had done as was demanded by the stars and required by duty. He had obeyed the signs and performed the deed, but the result was quite different from what was expected in the end. "Such are the ways of the universe," he mused and twirled a lock of beard around his calloused index finger.

With another spasm of pain, the wizard coughed more blood and bile, and with strength beyond understanding extended a shaky hand to lift a human trinket off the sacred forest ground. Chiron observed his unfulfilled kill place the ring in its right hand and aim for the magical rod its kind relied so much upon.

"No!" he roared and stomped the wizard's hand with a polished front hoof, breaking bones and marring already scarred flesh. The centaur picked the wand and threw it deep into the forest, then walked up to Harry and smirked. He lifted the wizard by his tattered clothes with one arm, and using the other to grab the golden arrow's shaft, pulled it out with all his might.

The human screams echoed around the clearing and he lost consciousness, falling into a heap on the ground once Chiron released him. The centaur regarded the crumpled form once more before raising his voice, "Firenze, lower centaur from the Herd of Magorian," he called, "you have sullied yourself with this wizard before. Carry him again, and bring him to the Summer Meadows. Be swift as the wind."

No sooner had Firenze done as instructed and lifted Harry onto his back, a winged beast mounted by a human female came into view over the clearing. The elder centaur growled and brought a horn to his mouth, issuing a call for his herds to come forward and engage in battle. The quickest of centaurs galloped out of the forest with bows tense and arrows at the ready, firing at the airborne intruders while Chiron sprinted with impossible speed towards the meadows of the east.

Earlier that same day, in the wizard home known as the Burrow, life went on and time passed, every occupant healing or coping according to his or her own nature, unaware of the events happening in and around Hogwarts. None had seen or heard from Harry for weeks.

"Oh, look, a flying gnome!"

"Bollocks! My brother must've finished lunch already. The food's all gone by now..."

Luna and Ginny were sitting on the fence, feet dangling in the air. They'd been meeting sporadically, rather the Lovegood young woman had taken the habit of visiting once or twice a week. The youngest Weasley never left the Burrow any longer.

"It looks more like a Danish yellow-bellied trixie though, do you realize they can jump about fifty times their size?" Luna commented, earning a muffled "yeah, right" from her fence companion.

Ginny had waited for so long. She knew he would only notice her again by being the hero, by finding her own way of fighting Riddle. She did as best she could, and enjoyed it not only because of Harry, but also because it was the right thing to do. It had frightened her then that perhaps she didn't need Harry after all, she could now be her own saviour and do it for the people she loved, not only for him.

In the end, the monster died. Harry had come for her and saved the world, and she fell in love all over again. And now she kept waiting, and there were no enemies to fight and impress him; there were no dangers to save her from either. Ginny kept waiting and spending time doing trivial things like playing with her pet puffskein and solving Witch Weekly's crosswords.

Harry would come back one day.

"How can you stand it, Luna? Waiting for Ron to grow up and notice you instead of Hermione?" she asked because she'd seen the efforts the blond-haired girl made to breach her brother's thick skull and have him notice her, and Luna had visited them regularly after the end of the war, which convinced her that she was waiting for him as well. Just like Ginny was waiting for Harry.

The blonde turned a dreamy face to her companion, keeping an ear on the whispering wind. "The hall of mirrors can play one too many tricks, Ginny. You're still waiting for a reflection to become true instead of looking at the source."

"Huh?"

"I'm going to help Ronald with his trixies," Luna said and hopped off the fence, skipping to the back garden where Ron kept muttering and kicking the unfortunate creatures.

Ron had been in a right state for weeks now. "Harry's a goner, Hermione said she needed to find her parents and bolted off to Australia, and to make matters worse, Loony keeps coming to visit and blurt nonsense every other day," he whined upon seeing her approaching him. "I'd reckon her time in the Malfoy Manor dungeons finally screwed her up for good."

"Hello Ronald. Heard anything from Harry and Hermione yet?"

"No."

"You do realize the Danish yellow-bellied trixies don't need your help to jump that high around the fields, don't you?"

"Right..."

Luna kept matching Ron's longer steps with her shorter legs and pacing the garden along with him, while he did his best to ignore her very existence. "Hermione would truly appreciate all this pacing you're doing, Ronald. It's really quite appealing in a physical sense."

"Yeah..."

"Wrackspurts must've gotten to your head last night, Ronald. Your answers are too short and weird."

"Luna, just get out of here and leave me the bloody hell alone!" Ron complained and kicked another gnome.

She blinked and stopped pacing. "Okay. Let me know if Harry and Hermione send news, please," Luna answered, and skipped out of the Burrow back towards her home a mile away. A third of the way back, the wind shifted direction and she hurried up, feeling a shiver run down her spine.

Being used to giving into her intuitive nature, she stormed into her bedroom and packed her travelling gear, picked her new nine inch apple wood wand with selenite hare's mane core, courtesy of Mr Ollivander, and donned her trekking cloak.

"I'm leaving for a hunt, father. Take care and remember to close the windows against the blibbering humdingers!"

"Certainly dearest. Have fun!"

Because they had no floo connection, Luna risked a long distance apparation. She pictured the gates of Hogwarts in her mind and her eyes lost their dreamy, unfocused air after a moment. Determined as she was, however, she still managed to get slightly splinched, leaving much of her long blond hair behind.

"Oh poo!" she complained before casually conjuring a hand mirror and, with a few flicks of her wand, cutting the few remaining locks of her hair, mimicked the short hairstyle the late Nymphadora used to wear.

"No good comes from entering the Forbidden Forest looking like a dishevelled hag," she thought and checked her reflection out.

She waved hello at the guardian stone boars and walked into the grounds, making a beeline towards Hagrid's hut and the woods behind it, pausing to pick a dead ferret, she used a silver blade to gut and skin it. A couple hundred yards further, she found the pack of thestrals she was looking for frolicking about.

An inhuman call issued from her throat and one of the youngest winged black beasts approached, its white eyes fixed on Luna's own. She ripped a chunk of flesh from the skinned ferret and offered it to the thestral she decided to name Raisin, who gulped it in one quick bite.

"Will you please take me somewhere?" she whispered into the beast's ear. It shook a reptilian head and lowered its wings, allowing Luna to mount it easily. "We're going Harry Hunting, so be prepared for the worse," she told it and dove her ankles into Raisin's sides, urging it to pick up speed and fly into the air.

Once airborne, Luna produced a small torn piece of cloth and brought it to the thestral's snout. Satisfied after a few sniffs and a lick, it pulled away and circled around, picking up a scent and diving towards it. They glided over the lake and made a swift pass over Dumbledore's tomb, before veering back to fly over the forest proper.

Enjoying the wind in her face, she let her thoughts wander back to the horrors the linked six had experienced. Without factual knowledge and yet intuitively grasping bits and pieces of what happened to each of them was just as painful as surviving the torture she was put under. Pain, fear, betrayal, uncertainty, heartbreak, denial. Not a single pleasant emotion ruled any of them at this time; her friends were as insane as she was.

Not learning of Hermione or Harry's fate for so many long weeks after the Dark Lord's extermination was unsettling. She cried for his pain and shuddered from her fear. Neville's denial of his heroism would only endanger his future and the Weasley siblings' feelings of betrayal and heartbreak were wrecking the friendship among the six. Her own uncertainty about what to live for and who to love and where to go from here was killing her slowly.

Raisin squeaked and gurgled at the same time, flapping more insistently and veering towards the oldest, densest parts of the forest. The wind carried a scream, and the scream brought tears to her eyes. "Harry?" she whispered, bending over the thestral to search for her friend. He saw his motionless form being thrust over a centaur's back in the middle of a clearing, and her arms hugged the flying creature to force it into landing.

An arrow zoomed by her side, followed by more wooden arrows she batted away with a defensive spell. In the meantime, the centaur carrying Harry had disappeared beneath the canopy of trees, and the game of Harry Hunting began in earnest. They could run and hide, but Raisin and Luna would not be deterred.

She pulled the thestral by the neck and it flew up again, dodging more arrows and barrelling left in a move that left Luna squealing in glee. She dove her ankles into her leathery flying friend and urged Raisin to follow the centaur carrying Harry on his back, silently vowing to repay him for her rescue from Malfoy Manor.

The loud, strident lorikeet call rang through Hermione's skull like a Chinese gong pressed against her ear. She tossed and turned only to feel a sharp stab on her side, likely from the jagged edge of a stone or a fallen branch, since she was sprawled on the tropical jungle floors of Queensland.

She'd come to Australia looking for her parents, which she did, but once freed of the memory charms they couldn't stand the sight of her. That they didn't want to see her for a long while was quite clear.

"Shut up, you stupid parrot! Your mother was a bloody turkey!" she yelled and shielded her eyes with one arm draped over.

Crawling up to her knees, she fought the painful headache and rubbed her face, groped around for her wand and spelled a mild rennervate on herself. Feeling rested and clear-headed at once, she stood up and looked around for her rented cabin. Only pristine rainforest greeted her eyes.

"Wonderful Granger, you've managed to get both drunk and lost this time!" she mumbled and stomped her right foot on the moist ground.

The cabin she'd spent the last ten days was quite secluded by the edge of the jungle, but was still part of a larger vacation building complex, meaning lots of muggles around, especially during the day, which made it impossible to apparate back at least until past two in the morning.

Transfiguring a fern shrub into an egg-chair, she curled inside the black upholstered white shell and swung left and right, remembering her words from last night. "No more push-over Hermione for them," she'd decided, "but what if Harry and Ron don't like me if I change?"

She had always been the resilient person, ignoring others' opinion of her and proving everyone her worth, something she still did, but it was different when people she truly cared about began to believe Hermione would forgive everything and anything they did to her. She loved Ron, he was sweet and challenging and infuriating all at once, not to mention tall and handsome, but he took her for granted after their first kiss in Hogwarts and even had the gall of being angry at her for leaving to find her own parents!

She also loved Harry, she loved the little lost boy that shared the greater-than-life wizard behind that bespectacled face. He also took her for granted, maybe it was her own fault for always sticking with him, even if he'd never shown his appreciation for it. It was time to set the record straight, Hermione believed.

"Mum and dad made it very clear that they didn't want to see me again until they've decided what to do," she remembered and secretly hoped they returned to England, but one way or another she'd give them the time alone they wanted and wait for them to realize they were at fault.

Hermione bit her lower lip and turned a full circle in the swivelling chair, worry etched in her face. "I'm going to need help bringing Harry back from whatever depths he's fallen into." Ron had tried yelling and shaking, Ginny was still waiting for her hero to finish the battle and return to her. She couldn't ask more of the Weasleys, since they had their own mourning to go through. Thinking of Fred made her cry again.

No, it was time to try a different approach, and she wondered if Luna could reach Harry like she used to be able to. Hermione admired her ethereal friend for it. In fact, the long days and nights she'd spent alone with a bottle of wine in her hand had revealed more than one truth. That she needed to be more forceful towards those she loved was one, but also that she craved for acceptance like a little girl behind her stubborn and opinionated mask. Despite being polar opposites, Luna had accepted her as a friend and only criticized that which was worthy of criticism; her narrow-mindedness. She loved her for it.

Why couldn't Harry see that his friends loved him? "It's like a river washed all the life away from him," she mused and spun on the egg-chair again. Harry needed to see an example of how to carry on living, someone who's experienced as much loss as he has... What he needed was Neville Longbottom!

Resolute and ready to begin her new quest, she planted her feet on the ground and stood up, threw caution and secrecy to the wind and apparated inside her cabin to pack and leave for Britain at once.

Pop!

"Ahhh! Holy Mother of God, where'd you come from, woman?!" yelled the cleaning maid while aiming the dust sucking vacuum cleaner hose at her.

"Blast..." muttered Hermione, before calmly reaching for her wand and casting the only spell available for these kinds of situations. "Obliviate!"

After telling the maid to remember her leaving the bathroom instead of popping into existence out of thin air, she shooed her out and packed her trunk, shrunk it and then checked out. She had a light lunch and apparated into the hall of the Australian Department of Magic to procure an international portkey trip back to Britain.

She arranged and paid for a midnight portkey landing at ten in the morning in the London Ministry for Magic and sat to wait, holding the old tattered muggle sock with her fingertips only and sporting a wrinkled nose. It was a very smelly sock they'd given her.

While Hermione waited, somewhere in England a portly wizard continued to hide inside his private greenhouse, escaping annoying reporters and crazed fans, denying his heroism and wondering how in Merlin's name could Harry stand all of this for so many years.

"Neville!"

"My goodness, the woman doesn't give a moment's rest... Just a minute, Gran!"

The Longbottom heir pushed a few vines to his left and walked into the manor, looking for his grandmother. He found her sitting in the sun room, enjoying a tray of sweet turkish delights and a small goblet of brandy, wearing a formidable canary-yellow robe with sparkling purple stars dancing over it.

"I had hoped your age and social standing would've precluded you from wearing a plant costume in broad daylight," she spat at him as soon as he entered the sunbathed room. Augusta needed to shake her grandson out of his stupor soon, and the news regarding Mr Potter's second disappearance was just the excuse she needed to put Neville back on the right track.

"Oh, this? It's a cloak-ivy creeper plant, I'm experimenting on a more sugar-resistant variety because this one will wither as soon as someone wearing it eats a chocolate frog or something sweet."

Augusta sighed and shook her head, before pushing a chair forward and telling Neville to sit. "The more things change, the more they stay the same," she spat at him without preamble, and then watched him intently while waiting for his reaction.

"Unless one could keep things similar, effecting change from elsewhere?" Neville replied after a moment of thought.

"I knew you had a good noggin inside that forgetful round head of yours. You are already poised for a position of leadership in the next hundred years of wizarding affairs, and from what little I've been told, Potter holds you in very high esteem as well?"

"I'd like to think he's a good friend. Or was, before what I saw at the funeral..." Neville told his grandmother. "He could've made an inferi look livelier and healthier, Gran."

Drinking the last of her brandy, Augusta tapped her long fingernails against the crystal goblet, making a disturbing staccato. "Who would you consider Potter's most trusted friend to be? One of the Weasley children?"

"No, that'd be Hermione. If anyone can bring Harry back to health it's her. Why do you ask?"

"Call her over the floo and request a formal meeting with her Head of Family. You must assist her in helping your friend Harry."

"That'd be difficult to arrange, given that she's a muggle-born," Neville explained briefly. "Besides, last I knew she was in Australia retrieving her parents."

"Then go to the ministry and find out where she is. And bring her back here for a meeting before going to Hogwarts or anywhere else looking for Potter, do you understand? Use the Longbottom name to call favours if you must," Augusta instructed and dismissed her grandson with a lazy wave of her hand.

A swooshing sound of flame came from one of the many fireplaces in the manor, indicating Neville's departure. With a final tapping of her empty goblet, the elder witch nodded to herself and walked to the manor library. Once there, she prodded the weathered leather spine of the seventh book in the third row from the left of a select bookcase until it grew up in size, changed to a glossy black colour and slid out and into Augusta's open hand.

"Dark magic my pale, hairy, wrinkled buttocks!" she exclaimed with a wicked smile; and added a naughty laugh for good measure.

A few minutes earlier, deep beneath London streets, a young woman had appeared out of nowhere in the middle of a room. Hermione had been swirling for close to five full minutes and landed in the international portkey room of the ministry, whose walls and floor were lined with cushion charms and piles of brown bags for the more sensitive organisms. Right next to the lovely clay pots filled with mimbulus mimbletonias that throw stinksap upon the briefest of touches.

She spent a while trying to stop the world from spinning and to stand still, and then cleared her head with a thorough shake that frizzled her untameable hair to the ninth degree, all the while staying clear of the Assyrian plants and silently cursing the wizard that put them there.

Swaying left and right, she opened the door and was promptly given a quill to fill all seventeen forms, eleven in triplicate with the rest to be filed within the ministry. After declaring no possession of illegal magical or muggle items, visible or otherwise, and a final scan of her wand, she was allowed to leave. She walked down the ministry corridors and paused once to clear her head again, before she reached the atrium and promptly queued for a floo line.

Wondering how to contact Neville as soon as possible, Hermione remembered briefly meeting him for the funerals and watching him struggle with a couple of Daily Prophet reporters that were stationed by the gates. His grandmother had taken care of them with a well placed hex.

Soon enough it was her turn at the man-sized hearth, and she dropped five knuts into the floating jar while keeping her palm underneath it, catching a lump of floo powder. She was about to throw it in when the fire crackled and the familiar likeness of her Gryffindor housemate sprung forth. "Neville!"

"Oh, hello Hermione! You're just the witch I was looking for," he said, and without asking for her permission, called "Proudrump Place" and dragged her away in a maelstrom of swirling green flames.

"What the--"

Any questions, complaints or otherwise actions against being dragged into the floo died with the soot Hermione inhaled, which made her exit ungraciously from it and cough her lungs out all over the Longbottom Manor parlour room. Neville cast an airway clearing spell on her and she thanked him, before cornering him against the wall pointing the tip of her wand between his eyes with a lightning fast motion.

"What did we find in the third floor corridor at Hogwarts seven years ago?" she asked forcefully.

"Goodness Hermione! A three-headed dog, a big blue cerberus!" he answered hastily, not wanting to suffer her legendary rage or magical skills in the flesh.

"Where am I and why have you brought me wherever this is?" she asked, backing away but still holding her wand up.

"I'm afraid that would be my doing, Madame Granger. As to where this is, welcome to Longbottom Manor," Augusta said while entering the room.

Hermione glanced quickly around, cataloguing everything in sight and quickly creating an escape route and feasible battle plan. War can foster quirky habits. She relaxed and pocketed her wand, reaching for Neville and helping him stand up. "I apologize Neville, I hope you understand I've become wary of unexpected situations. Mrs Longbottom, I extend my deepest apologies as well for my conduct."

"Quite understandable given the circumstances, Madame Granger," the older Longbottom said. "Neville, please escort our guest to the tea room. We must discuss one too many issues, albeit none have anything to do with tea, I'm afraid."

The three made their way through the manor, crossing a portrait lined hallway into a smaller yet cosy room with a round table and six comfortable chairs. The arched windows looked out towards the expansive gardens Neville had once bounced around when he was little and Hermione fought hard to stifle a chuckle at the mental picture of that event.

"Please have a seat Madame Granger," indicated Augusta with the proper formality of a pureblooded witch.

"Thank you ma'am," answered Hermione, accepting Neville's help with her chair. The young Longbottom then sat to her right, closing the triangle.

"What news from the southern settlements?"

"Actually ma'am, I missed the chance to interact with the Australian community I'm afraid. I returned to England looking for Neville and hoping to engage him in helping me with a ... restoration project."

Augusta nodded and, with a final inspection of the young witch before her, decided to be rather blunt. "Neville is a hero of the war, as are you. Does this restoration project include finding and helping another hero by the family name of Potter, perhaps?"

"Gran, I've told you, I'm no hero!"

"Be quiet Neville!" snapped Augusta, "I apologize for my grandson. He's not yet grasped the reality of what your generation has accomplished."

Hermione paused and looked at the young man sitting next to her, "Yes ma'am, that's what I came back to do. I understand Harry is still at Hogwarts then?"

Neville and Augusta shared an uneasy look, but it was the Lady Longbottom who spoke next. "He is missing, for the second time in the past couple of weeks. Mr Potter's first disappearance was relayed to us by the headmistress, who was hoping to find him sharing dinner with Neville. I'm sorry to tell you he was found in ... less than favourable conditions, shall we say."

"What do you mean? Did someone hurt him?"

"No one besides Professor McGonagall and Madame Pomfrey at Hogwarts, plus Gran and I know of this Hermione. You see, Harry he ... he hurt himself on purpose. Badly."

Hermione gasped and brought both hands to her mouth, her eyes wide in sad understanding.

"I must confess," said Augusta, "that my personal interest in Mr Potter's affairs is biased towards my family's future well-being. The Headmistress was reluctant to share this information, and it's my understanding that the Weasleys haven't been told of his situation."

"Neville, we must find him!" Hermione expressed and stood up. "Mrs Longbottom, thank you for your time, we should be going."

She was dragging Neville to his feet when Augusta raised one pale hand in the air, slammed its open palm on the table and yelled at them to be seated, rattling cups and saucers. Hermione jumped and sat back at once, silently pitying Neville for being raised by the crazy old witch now glaring at her.

"Since the wizard you seek is missing, I've taken the liberty of procuring the means to find him!" the old witch said and picked a thick black book from a spindly table next to her. "This, is the manuscript codex of the Longbottom family. The most interesting part of it, if I were asked to be more accurate."

Flipping through one page at a time, Augusta began explaining how all wards, spells, potions and rituals had been standardized after the Ministry Purge of 1906, when knowledge classifications and mandatory inspections of family libraries were made legal. Many families complied in good faith, others simply ignored the edict and dared an auror to set foot in their property, which brought them the title of Dark Magic Practitioners even if they'd never harm another human being.

Some like the Longbottoms simply hid their knowledge from undeserving eyes and hands.

"Now, where could we find a bit of young Mr Potter's flesh and blood?" asked Augusta with a raised white eyebrow.

Notes:

1.- The Selenite Hare or Moon Rabbit inhabits said asteroid but a few fall on Earth every full lunar eclipse. Or so Luna says...
2.- Chiron is the greatest centaur in Greek mythology, who sacrificed himself to give mankind access to fire and was a miraculous healer.
3.- A lorikeet is a bird that can be found in Australian rainforests.