OF THE SAME SCRAP AND BARLEY

Chapter One – Two Sides of a Coin
Words: 8019

"Listen to this," Hermione urged Ron and Harry, who she suspected were completely uninterested in what she had to say. Glancing at them she confirmed her suspicion, finding that their attention was firmly on the game of chess they were playing. They might not have heard her speak at all for all the attention they were gracing her with. Despite the unpromising offset she pressed on, convinced that they would start listing soon enough. The book she had gotten when she was in France with her parents years back (and was finally able to read thanks to a crash course she'd taken in the language during July) was well worth paying attention to.

"Although little empirical evidence exists to support the theory I believe that it deserves more credit and acknowledgement," she began to read out loud in English with help of the notes she'd written in the margin. She read loudly so that she could be heard over the din in the Gryffindor Common Room. There might be a small risk that other students would listen in, but she deemed it to be rather small since only a few older students were about (the result of a free hour for many of the NEWT students) and they were busy doing something with prank products from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.

"The small number of case studies done in the late eighteen hundreds provides evidence for the hypothesis that each witch and wizard has a correlate in another dimension. This correlate that each of us has is a being that has a soul reflecting the witch or wizard, giving them a shared essence and many shared characteristics and basic morals. I would not hesitate to say twin souls following the description put forth by Sokoloff in the seventeen hundreds. The evidence was attainted by reaching over dimensional borders and coming back with memories from the correlates.

"All successful memory transfers were with correlates belonging to a long-lived, durable, humanoid race who call themselves the Asgardians (or the Aesir) of Asgard. Upon learning this, and more, the theory evolved to incorporate Norse Mythology because many of the names reported among influential members of the Aesir corresponds with the names of myths. It is believed that the witches and wizards who lived in Northern Europe during the turn of the first millennia of the Common Era knew how to connect with their correlates.

"Asgard is a highly evolved society where magic and science work as one, and the two are difficult to distinguish, in part because most Aesir don't display magical talents the same as a witch or wizard would. Instead they have specialized abilities or do not develop their innate potential at all. However, magical energy is harnessed in technology and understood much along the lines as muggles describe the laws of nature they are able to conceive.

"Asgard is a monarchy ruled by a King known as the Allfather. It is unknown if a Queen could ascend the throne and obtain the full right of ruling as no such practices have been observed during the studies. Two of the eight volunteers of the 1894 study reported that the King's name was Bor, and five reported Odin, son of Bor to be the Allfather. Let it also be noted that one of the latter mentioned that there were rumours in the city about Odin planning to pass on the throne to his son Thor. This leads to the conclusion that time is arbitrary in line up with our reality. The only constant was that the Asgardian that was the witch or wizard always had lived the same percentage of their lifespan as their correlate.

"The Asgardians as a people are proud and their society is built around a warrior culture. Honour is paramount and the ultimate way to end your life is to die in battle, as then you will come to Valhalla where you will feast until the end of times. Because of their warfaring ways, the Asgardians know of other peoples who lived in realms separated from their own. There are nine known realms, one of which is Midgard, which corresponds to our Earth. All progress they have achieved has been in the line of warfare and after achieving a dominant role in the larger world, the advancement of technology has stagnated, which is not surprising, and the same phenomenon can be seen across most of the magical world we call home.

"One of the participants in the study was the Belgian witch Marie Laine. The name of her correlate was Gullhar daughter of Ljosgeir (she was the one who reported on the upcoming coronation of Thor). Gullhar was a skilled healer and with the memories Laine brought back she became a renowned healer herself. Among other things she contributed to the field there was a spell that increased the speed of blood clotting which made healing large open wounds easier. She also invented a spell that removes scar tissue from internal organs, a spell that without a doubt has extended many lives."

Hermione fell silent at last and looked up to see if she'd garnered the reaction she sought. While Ron was keeping his eyes resolutely on the chessboard, pretending as if he'd heard nothing (the pretending part being rather obvious), she had managed to catch Harry's attention.

"If she invented those spells, how come this correlate thing isn't better known?" he asked.

"She wouldn't admit that the study she'd been part of worked. She actually slandered the study. The author of this book claims that she didn't want the credit of the spells she had brought with her to fall on someone else; she liked the attention and the renown they had given her. Lémeiux, that's the author, says that she must have adapted the knowledge she gained to work with our magic, yet that wasn't enough for her. She wanted the complete credit."

Now Ron did look up and he snorted. "Or it's just all pretend," he remarked. "This all sounds like something Luna would believe in, not you."

"That's true," Harry agreed, shifting in his red armchair. "What makes this more credible than anything written in the Quibbler?"

"Lémeiux has included everything there is to know about the study. There are more personal accounts written out from subjects who were far more positive than Laine. There are charts and a discussion on how the group conducting the experiment had planned to move on with it. More test subjects and theory on how to improve the spell that allowed the memories to be absorbed. The French Ministry put a stop to it, however."

"It really does sound like the Quibbler," Ron muttered amusedly, or perhaps his smile was due to his knight beheading one of Harry's bishops, bringing the redhead one move closer to winning the game of chess. Hermione made a face of distaste at seeing the brutal way the chess pieces treated each other. She'd never gotten over seeing it happen with chess figures that were thrice as tall as an average adult.

"What makes me take this seriously isn't what it says, but how it is said," she explained. "It's all written according to scientific norms and in good academic language, especially considering that the text is about a hundred years old. Not to mention, the people responsible for the study are acclaimed in other fields; some of them have published scientific reviews and papers in the muggle world too. There's a lot speaking for this. I believe it's true."

"So we have people who have reflections of ours souls in another universe?" Harry concluded, concentrating on the core of what Hermione was trying to tell them. He believed well enough in people having souls. There were ghosts all over Hogwarts and he'd seen shapes of dead people appearing from Voldemort's wand. After all that, a person who had a soul similar to his own didn't seem all that farfetched. It made him feel a little bit uneasy, but intrigue overpowered the discomfort.

"It seems like it, yes. Wouldn't it be amazing to learn about a different world? Who you could have been?"

She had Ron's willing attention as well as Harry's now. The chess game was abandoned, something the tiny chessmen realized. Some of them had sat down, rolling their tiny thumbs idly, and others were reassembling their fallen comrades.

As they thought about their correlates Ron was imagining a life of fame and fortune while Harry saw before himself the close knit family of which he'd always dreamed. Harry also imagined what he might learn, if anything his correlate knew could help him defeat Voldemort. If so it would be brilliant. "How is it done?" he asked, feeling anticipation, longing and an itch to do something about it awakening inside.

"It's complicated," the witch answered.

"Could we do it?" he pressed.

"Blimey!" Ron exhaled the word, his hands sweeping out, causing the small chessmen to scatter, fleeing for their lives. "You're not thinking that we could actually do it, are you?"

"Why not?" Harry argued. "Think of getting those memories. They might teach us things Voldemort could never hope to match!" The more he was thinking about it, the more enthusiastic he was getting about the idea. In his enthusiasm he didn't notice his friends flinching slightly at the mention of You-Know-Who's name.

"I don't know, Harry," the witch began to say, her forehead wrinkling in a concerned frown.

He didn't let her continue, guessing why she was reluctant. "It's not like we're trying to cheat on some exam," he reasoned. "Nothing is about school anymore, not really. We might still be here, but in a way we're just killing time, trying to learn so that we won't die the first day as legal adults. It's about the war. It's about survival and about making sure he's stopped so that more people don't have to die. Why shouldn't we try this? It was you who brought it up!"

"Well," Hermione began, her voice sounding small after Harry's onslaught and against the backdrop of the now noisier common room where a number of younger students had trickled in over the past few minutes. "The study was stopped for another reason than Marie Laine wanting people to think she was cleverer than she actually was."

When she didn't immediately continue Harry scowled impatiently. "It being?"

Hermione sighed and flipped through the book, landing on a page with a diagram. "They only did eight tests," she pointed to the open page. There were eight rows there, the first column of each one with a name; Marie Laine's among them. "Six of the tests worked exactly like they should and allowed the witches and wizards to step through, take in the life and memories of their correlates and come back safely."

"So what happened with the other two?"

"One wizard barely got any memories at all, and he was fine, but the test was a failure. The last one…" she hesitated, flipping through the book again. Whether she was looking for the information she was referencing or simply stalling, Harry couldn't guess. "Well, as far as they could tell, he got stuck on the other side." She was silent for a moment, allowing the information to sink it. Ron grew somewhat pale. "They kept his body alive for years before his family decided that it was better to let him go. He was worse off than a victim of the Dementor's kiss. If you've had your soul sucked out, the body still breaths and can still be made to eat. This wizard was completely comatose and unresponsive right until the day they decided to not use magic to sustain his soulless body anymore."

"Oh." Disappointment was flowing through Harry in a thick stream. He'd worked his hope up. Perhaps it was foolish to let himself get excited so quickly over something he knew so little about. It was just that the lessons with Dumbledore didn't seem to be going anywhere. And the Prophet was reporting daily about attacks with people being found dead, the Dark Mark over their locations. And Malfoy was skulking around the castle. And to top it all off, he had the prophecy hanging over his head. He needed something positive to cling onto. He wouldn't have minded that positive something being this.

"Six out of eight it goes well, one out of eight nothing really happens and one out of eight we're lost." Harry stared at Ron as he began to speak, wondering if he was saying what it sounded like. "I think those are good enough odds," the youngest Weasley son said with a thoughtful nod. His entire demeanour was more serious than most people would give him credit for, yet what he said next Harry had still not expected.

"If we try this, I should be the one we try the spell on first. I'm the least valuable of the group. You know, like in first year. I'll do my part, get us as far as I can and then you two can go on putting an end to You-Know-Who. I'm willing to take the risk."

"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed, looking very upset. Her raised voice drew attention and she leaned in closer to the boys, whispering heatedly. "No one's being sacrificed. We can't do it. It's too dangerous. Untested magic like this..! We don't know if we'll draw any benefits from it at all. Marie Laine was lucky that her correlate was a healer. There is no guarantee that we'll learn anything useful and the risks are simply too high! I won't be part of it."

Harry didn't protest against what Ron had said the way Hermione did. He contemplated the merits. He didn't want to lose Ron, didn't want to sacrifice him for anything in the world. The thought of his friend being completely unresponsive, his soul gone forever made him feel like he was falling from his broom in the middle of a storm, lost and without coordination. That Ron meant what he had said, however, meant that he was willing to sacrifice himself, filled Harry with intense gratefulness and affection. Ron might have failed him once, not believing in his innocence during the debacle that was the Triwizard Tournament, but he had come back and he'd proven that he was a true friend, and here he was doing it again. He was also proving that he understood how grave the situation they were in was. Harry had sensed a shift in him when Mr. Weasley came close to dying because of Nagini's poison while guarding the entrance to the Department of Mysteries. The reality of the war had been brought to the Weasley family's doorstep in a tangible and horrifying way. Ron had come to understand how serious it all was. He had also been placed in Gryffindor for a reason; it wasn't only about following in the footsteps of his many brothers. He was brave and would rather risk his own life than endangering the lives of his friends or family, it was admirable. Harry might not jump at accepting a sacrifice such as that, but he thought about it and knew that he should respect Ron's decision. He'd prefer to put himself in danger any day, but he could also accept that Ron shared that view, and he could honour his friend for it.

Besides, Harry thought that Hermione's argument that they wouldn't learn anything worthwhile was a weak one. Their correlates were supposed to be like them, Hermione at least had to learn something of value if she went through with the interaction to her Asgardian counterpart. He would not underestimate Ron either, and if he himself was the chosen one his correlate had to be useful.

"Thank you, Ron," he said, steadily, calmly, with all the gratefulness and sincerity he could muster. The youngest Weasley son met his gaze without wavering and nodded. Nothing more needed to be said.

Watching the two of them so serious, so determined, so mature for once, Hermione must have understood the gravity of the situation too. It wasn't that she hasn't understood it before. However she had ignored it to some degree, preferring to face the world with more enthusiasm and hope than the situation warranted. "We're doing this then?" she whispered. "We're really going to try this?"

"If you know how," Harry said softly.

She shook her head, thick locks swaying around her face. "Not quite. The actual spell isn't written in the book, although the theory behind it is explained in detail. We would have to reinvent the spell ourselves, but I believe it can be done. Perhaps there is a way to improve the spell, make it safer. If we do this, we do it right. We won't use the spell until we're certain it will work and that it's safe."

"Then we'll research it together and we'll do it right."

They looked at each other and a packet was made. They would do this. They would give it their all.

- Of the Same Scrap and Barley –

Harry was more than a little certain that according to Hermione the best thing to come out of the debacle was how much time they were spending in the library. She just loved the place, with all its the books and having Ron and Harry there with her had made her eyes glow with joy and pride even months after they had made it a routine. All of October, November, December, January and February the trio did little else but attend classes, do homework and eat. However, Harry and Ron did put in a token effort at Quidditch. Harry was after all captain of the Gryffindor team and despite how serious he knew the situation to be, he needed the occasional distraction that the sport provided. He had explained it in a way he knew Hermione could understand, that it was like sleeping; a break for the brain, an opportunity to work in the background, to sort out all the information they were cramming in before yet more was compiled on top. The witch could also clearly see the effects playing the game had on the two teenage boys, especially how it affected Ron. The keeper was always in a good mood after practice and would do some of his best work then, although there was a fine line between him being energetic from playing Quidditch and getting lethargic and whiney as his body demanded rest.

Another benefit Harry was sure Hermione was seeing and which Ron was celebrating too, was that he didn't have as much time to worry about Malfoy. It irritated Harry that neither of his friends supported him in his conviction that the blond Slytherin was up to something heinous. But Harry was willing to give up on some of the time he'd spent Malfoy-watching. They were making progress and it was likely that they would be ready to try the spell out soon after the Easter Holiday.

Each of them had spoken with the professors about some part of the spell and what could be done to make it better. Harry had been put through Slughorn's tender mercies, getting stuck in the potion master's office for the better part of several afternoons. Ron probably manage to raise his grade as he discussed advanced charms theory with a bemused but enthusiastic Flitwick. Hermione had even dared to approach Snape. The nowadays Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor had near enough chewed her face off, belittling her and being suspicious about why she'd asked. However she'd gotten away the information they needed and that was a victory.

During Christmas they had milked Ron's relatives and various Order members for all they were worth. Hermione and Harry had jointly spoken with Fleur, getting her opinion on some translations as Hermione was struggling with understanding some documents they had procured from the original research, it being written in a dialect of French, rather than the standard. Ron had suffered asking Fred and George for help as the twins were splendid inventors of all kinds. Harry had come to his rescue after Ron's freckles had been hexed to flash in neon colours and move around his body, the twins being more willing to assist him as they thought themselves indebted to him for his monetary support.

Reinventing the spell was some of the most difficult work the trio had ever set out to do, but they approved their abilities across all magical fields and it showed in their course work. Whether they were successful or not, they would have gained a lot from trying.

- Of the Same Scrap and Barley –

It was the end of March; the grounds below Hogwarts Castle were covered in small patches of snow, the last remnants of winter. Students were eager for the one week holiday with rest from school work that was coming up, the fifth and seventh year students drawing sighs of relief at the respite they would get before the work load would intense in preparation for exams.

The trio had tried to use the Room of Requirement for their project a whole week earlier, but had been unable to get inside. Like they had noticed a few times before, two first year girls had been standing in the corridor, watching them suspiciously as they passed by and when the Marauder's Map was consulted it was shown that they were none other than Crabbe and Goyle. Harry had taken some vindictive pleasure in showing his friends that Malfoy really was up to something and that he was using the Room to do whatever it was. Hermione had not been too impressed, however; she pointed out that Harry's theory about Malfoy having the Dark Mark still wasn't proven. Ron was just annoyed that they couldn't get the project done and stayed out of the argument. He had become increasingly nervous during the weeks leading up to the day they had planned to go through with the spell, and having to wait even longer for an opportunity at privacy was not something he enjoyed. When his sister had come up to them in the common room asking if he was feeling ill he had snapped at her. Since, Ginny had sent glares at him and during the most recent Quidditch practice she had consistently aimed at Ron's head with the quaffle, succeeding in hitting him more than a few times. Ron had muttered to Harry about being a bad captain afterwards, for allowing his players to conduct themselves like that, but Harry had only innocently pointed out that it was likely the Slytherins would use a similar tactic and it was good practise.

They had waited to get back into the Room of Requirement an entire week, because they had estimated that they would need a whole weekend to go through with the spell with time for them to rest up and get comfortable with the change the attained memories was bound to result in.

They got up early this first Saturday in April, determined to reach the Room before Malfoy could. A repeat of the previous week wasn't acceptable. As Harry paced in the hallway by the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy he thought intently of a Room where they would be completely undisturbed, where they would be comfortable for a long time and have all the space they needed to perform the spell. As he turned back around after his third time passed the door he shared a relieved sigh with his friends, seeing the door appear as it should.

"Let's do this," he said.

"Yeah," Ron, who was looking alarmingly pale all of a sudden, agreed. The freckles on his nose were standing in sharp contrast to the rest of the skin, which was sickly white. But he squared his shoulders, opening the door and striding inside. Hermione shared a glance with Harry before they too entered the room. As the door slid shut behind them it melded into the wall, giving them assurance of the privacy they had requested.

"Should we review the procedures?" Hermione asked, dumping her bag in an armchair.

"Do we really have to?" Ron asked, having slumped down in another armchair. His gangly body was spilling out of it, making for a slightly comical look, not that any of them was in a mood to see the humour in the situation. "We've been going over this for the past several weeks. For the past year."

"It hasn't been a year," Hermione remarked, but was ignored.

"We've reworked the spell top to bottom. We've researched runes and rituals to make it safe. We've done it all thrice, for Merlin's sake! If we're not prepared now, we won't be in an hour."

"Fine," she agreed curtly. "I just thought you'd might like to take some time to think this through one last time. We don't have to do this. You don't have to be depredated to a test subject."

"Perhaps we don't have to do it," Ron murmured, "but with all the work we've put in, letting it go now would be wrong if you get what I mean. I'm ready for this. I'm not backing out."

"Alright. Let's start." The witch pulled out the journal where she had painstakingly written down every little detail of the spell and the accompanying ritual that they would use, as well as drawing out the three vials of a potion they had brewed.

When she handed one of them over, Ron hesitated a second before he accepted the vial. He looked at the clear liquid inside with some trepidation. The potion was supposed to help clear the mind, to make it more susceptible to the experience ahead. Since there was a risk that not many memories would transfer, as that had happened in the 1894 trials, they wanted to enhance whatever they could get.

"Cheers!" he said in a choked tone, uncorking the vial and chugging it down.

"What does it taste like?" Harry asked

"Like ink and tomatoes," Ron replied with a grimace.

Harry made a sympathetic face. Not as bad as some potions he'd had, but certainly bad enough.

"How does it feel?" Hermione asked, always the more practical one.

"Not too different."

"We have to test if it's worked."

"The number sequence?"

"Yes."

They had devised a test for the potion beforehand. While they could have tried the potion beforehand too, they had only managed to brew a small quantity as the potion was tricky and a couple of the ingredients in it were on the expensive side. The test was setup to test short term memory by having the subject repeat a series of numbers. They had tested how well they could do it without the potion and now they were about to see if there was any difference with it.

Hermione rattled off twenty numbers in quick succession. When they'd last tried it Ron had only managed to repeat a handful. Now he got them all.

"I guess it worked then," Ron concluded, not sounding too enthusiastic about it all.

"You can still back out of it," Hermione reminded him.

"Stop saying that already," he snapped. "We're doing this. I've been saying so from the start. I'm not about to change my mind."

"Fine, fine, sorry." She took out a stick of chalk and started to measure out a circle that followed a precise sequence of numbers she'd calculated using Arithmancy. As Harry and Ron watched she then wrote runes along the edge of the circle. The arrangement was supposed to be used as protection and an anchor, to keep a person going through to the world of the correlates bound to their original body. It took her about half an hour as she time and again had to erase runes and redo them, determined to not make a single mistake.

"She's worse with this than with homework or exams," Ron muttered to Harry.

"She has good reason to be," Harry shot back unimpressed. "This is our lives on the line, not just a grade."

"Yeah, yeah, I know, but still. I do know this is serious. It got me working on academic stuff, didn't it? I'll never forget the way Flitwick looked at me when I asked about the nature of location charms and their correlation to mind affecting charms. I don't know if it was my use of the word correlation that got to him or that I discussed how the two are connected before waiting for an answer."

Harry grinned, reluctantly amused. "Probably the use of a difficult word."

Ron snorted. "I wonder if it will change me, having the memories of another person. I know that the person will resemble me, having the same characteristics and values as the guy more or less share my soul, but we will still have lived a completely different lives and have different experiences."

"Some change is to be expected," Harry said quietly. "Memories define us. If anything Dumbledore's lesson this year has taught me that."

The tall Gryffindor shook his head. "Those lessons with the Headmaster have been a real letdown, haven't they? Watching memories of stinking You-Know-Who as a kid; strange and creepy."

"Creepy and a half. Dumbledore must have a plan with showing me them, but he won't tell me what it is and I have no idea on my own. I've not exactly been trying hard to get that memory from Slughorn either."

"Who knows, perhaps I'm a genius in this other reality, once I get those memories I'll solve all our problems!" Ron fantasised.

The dark haired teen chuckled. "As if that job wouldn't be Hermione's."

"Aw, mate, give me some credit!"

"Yes, of course. You're a genius. Of course your correlate will be too."

"Maybe he's good at strategy or something? I'm decent at chess after all; if I used that sort of thinking in a different way I might have gotten good at using it practically. I'm not too shoddy a keeper either, coordination like that might be useful in battle."

That wasn't a bad assumption to make; Harry had to concede the point. The number of times he'd seen anyone beat Ron at chess could be countered at the fingers of one hand and Ron had played a lot of chess games. He was also a decent keeper, whenever he remembered to believe in himself, and Ron's confidence had been growing.

"Let's just hope that it all works out."

"It has to. With the precautions we're taking I can't see it going any other way. I won't get stuck. I know I won't."

"It's all done," Hermione announced, getting up from the floor and brushing her hands together to get rid of the chalk. A small dust cloud spread out from her palms, filling the air. Light from the windows behind her trickled through the particles, creating a mystical effect that was all too appropriate for the situation.

Looking at the carefully drawn figures on the floor Harry could almost sense the power that was residing within them. For him to sense it, they must have done something right. Though he might be imagining it. He'd never felt magic like that before.

He turned as he heard Ron's stomach grumble. "Great job, Hermione," the other boy said. "I know I said that I wanted to do it as soon as possible, no delays, but perhaps we could eat breakfast first after all?"

"Of course," she said easily, though with an eye roll. "The potion will last long enough that I see no problem with it." While she as always would bicker with Ron, Hermione had toned it down considerably since they began working on this project, trying her very hardest to stop arguments before they could begin. It was as if she wanted to commend him for the sacrifice she knew he was making and was determined to let him have good time should it all end badly.

"Breakfast should have been served up by now," Harry commented looking at a clock that had helpfully appeared on the wall within his sight.

"We can't all leave the room," Hermione pointed out. "It might revert or," she bit her lip, "or Malfoy might enter and keep us out. I'll stay behind, just bring me some toast back with you."

Glancing at Hermione and trying to judge if she would bite his head off for suggesting it Ron said in a weak, squeak; "Call for Dobby."

"Ron!" the witch predictably admonished before he'd even said the last syllable. "House elves are not here to serve us at our beck and call. They do a good job at cleaning and providing food. The least we can do is to conduct ourselves within the set framework."

"He likes being called, you know that. He adores Harry."

"Well," she hesitated. She couldn't very well disagree. She knew how much Dobby liked Harry, how much the house elf liked all three of them; her for giving him clothes and Ron simply for being associated with the two of them and being kind where most wizards wouldn't be. "Fine."

Dobby was called up and he was indeed delighted to help out, going so far as to admonish Hermione for not immediately agreeing to use his services, though after he said that he turned very anxious and Harry had to order him not to hurt himself.

The breakfast food that was served up in the Room went beyond what they could have expected and while Hermione scowled at it, muttering about extra work for the house elves and Dobby not understanding that he was being used, and she couldn't keep her negative attitude for long as the delicious food filled her up and gave her energy. Ron too seemed to feel more encouraged with every bite that he swallowed. The pallor he had kept since entering the Room dissipated leaving him seeming healthier and more excited than in a long time, which his friends took as a good omen.

Eventually though there was no more stalling to be had. It was time for the spell. They had prepared for it so long, working very hard and now their effort would at last come to fruitarian.

Ron entered the large circle Hermione had drawn, being careful to not step on the chalk lines and he then lay down on his back, hands at this side and eyes closed.

"You best do the spell, Hermione," Harry said. "You know you're the best of us at magic."

"Okay," she said, not bothering with any false modesty. In nearly all subjects she was the first to understand how to cast a spell and it wasn't only because she had the theoretical knowledge; she was in tuned with her magic, knowing how to make it work. This was the first time they could cast it properly too; there had been no way to practice other than saying the words and doing the wand movements without having any idea if it worked. "Are you ready, Ron?"

"As ready as I'll ever be."

Carefully Hermione enunciated the spell they had worked so hard to recreate. Harry observed silently, trusting in her ability. Her wand work looked as precise as he had expected it to, the pattern of the wand tip timed perfectly with the incantation. Once the word was spoken she and Harry waited with bated breath, trying to see if anything had happened. They were standing outside the circle, Ron many feet away from them in the middle of it and completely unmoving. "Ron?" Hermione tried, her voice strained, the spell had taken a lot out of her. There was no response.

"It will take some time," Harry reassured her. "We know that."

"Of course." She put her arms around herself, as if suddenly struck with a chill. They went and sat down in the armchairs to wait.

Although it would have been fine for them to speak, both Gryffindors kept silent. Harry wasn't enjoying the churning, cold feeling that was spreading throughout his stomach, chasing away the warmth the breakfast had placed there. He was feeling slightly nauseous actually, regretting eating that last piece of toast. He wondered if allowing Ron to go through with this had been the best idea, all things considered. Of course there was a lot to gain and they had researched the spell thoroughly, and he was confident in their accomplishment, but even so, thinking about what it would mean if the spell went wrong had him reeling now. It made him feel guilty in a manner similar to how he'd felt after the debacle at the Ministry at the beginning of the summer. Ron hadn't escaped unscathed then. He knew that his friend was forever marked with scars on his arms from the grip of the tentacled brains, marked by thoughts, similar in a way to what they were trying for now. He had survived that time, but now, there was no certainty. There was also the question of how different Ron would be if it was all working out like it should. He would come out changed, that was a certainty. The uncertain part was how changed he would be.

Harry grabbed the book that had started it all and began to skim through one of the successful accounts. Through working on the project he had begun to learn a little French, and he had some parts more or less memorized in Hermione's translations. There was a section written by one witch who'd gone through it. She discussed how she'd felt after absorbing the memories of her correlate. She described it as emotional and intellectual growth, the understanding of another life that could have just as well been her own. She said that she felt like the same person she'd always been, just more experienced and with a respect for other cultures and people who lived under another philosophy than the one she'd grown up with. Harry hoped wholeheartedly that it would be just like that, that Ron would wake up soon and be the friend he'd always known, only wiser and more mature.

"Something's going on," Hermione said quietly and Harry looked over at Ron. He was as unmoving as before, or at least that's what he thought. Getting up to see better he noticed that under the closed eyelids Ron's eyes were moving rapidly as if he was dreaming.

"He's getting some memories," he guessed.

"It looks like it. This is good. The case with Jacquemin," Elouan Jacquemin was the wizard who had been lost on the other side, "says that he never reached this state. Ron should be fine."

"Yeah," Harry breathed out the word, expelling some of the tension that had been building, along with the air. It was good. Ron would probably be fine. Nothing was certain yet, but the signs were good.

As he looked up he noticed that Hermione had tears in her eyes. "Are you okay?" he asked softly, reaching out to take her hand. She wasn't satisfied with that, and pulled him into a hug.

"You have no idea how worried I have been," she half sobbed against his shoulder as Harry awkwardly stroked her back. "I've been so worried that I'd get something wrong; that we'd lose him. I know everything was as prepared as it could be. I have checked and double checked so many times, but there are no guarantees. I've been wondering if we're just foolish, hopeful children. Magic wasn't real until I turned eleven. I don't think I've ever truly been able to tell if it is real or how much of it is. Perhaps this was only a fairytale and I'd at last reached the final page, falling back out into the real world."

"No, no," he reassured her, even as he tried to swallow her confession about her doubts, "you said it yourself, the book is written with scientific principles. We have some of the original documents; you've looked up Lemain, this is real. And we worked hard, we haven't missed anything, I know we haven't. You did a great job, Hermione. We did an amazing job."

She drew back and rubbed at her eyes with her sleve. "We did, didn't we? We've done amazing things over the years, but never before anything like this. I don't know which example would be the best to compare to. The tournament, when we brewed Polyjuice Potion. Yet neither of those cases were as bad as this."

"Really?" Harry said. "The tournament was rather bad, I could have died."

"Stop it!" she hit him in the shoulder. "Of course it was bad! But we didn't know it the same way we do this time. We didn't know what waited in that maze. We thought - or I thought - that if anything went wrong, the professors would be there to put everything back together. It was dangerous, yes, but they had made the tournament safer after people died in the past."

"And with the Polyjuice?"

She laughed lightly, hiccupping because of her previous tears. "A thirteen year old brewing that potion in a toilet!" She shook her head. "We should never have done it, of course. The difference is that it's a potion that's well-tested. A lot of people have used it; the recipe had been improved several times. This that we're doing now; it is experimental magic."

"You should never have doubted yourself."

"How could I not? This is too serious to not give into doubt; it was doubt that kept me awake late into the night, looking over everything, perfecting it. It was doubt that made me go to the library early in the mornings to search for yet another book on spell crafting and magical theory."

Harry grinned wryly. "That just sounds like how you are normally."

"Shut up." Harry had managed what he wanted, however; she was smiling.

They sat down to wait again. The flickering of Ron's eyelids abated not too long after, and then, if everything went as it should, there would be an equally long period of stillness as the one that had preceded the memory transfer.

Right on time Ron drew in a deep breath, as if delving up from under water and opened his eyes.

They observed him, still silent. He sat up slowly, leaning on his arms, before crouching forward. He shook his head, blinking and rubbing at his jaw with the knuckles of his left hand before turning his face to them. "Hi," he said.

As it was all over now Hermione thought it safe to enter the circle and she rushed to Ron's side, kneeling by him. "How are you feeling?" she asked urgently.

"Good," he replied. "I feel good, Hermione. You don't have to worry about me. The best way I can describe it is like I feel more like myself than I have ever done before, if that makes sense."

"Not one whit," said Harry.

"I suppose not," Ron agreed looking up. "It's something you have to experience for yourself to truly understand."

"Can you move? You might be more comfortable on one of the sofas."

"I think I'd like that." Harry shared a quick glance with Hermione as Ron got to his feet, wobbling a bit and Hermione dived under his arm to support him. "I'm okay," he reassured her, but he didn't shrug her off, giving her a thankful smile as she deposited him on a sofa, allowing him to recline across it, and taking an armchair for her own as Harry did the same.

Ron seemed calm. Very calm. It was a bit eerie. "Don't look at me like that," he told them when they had silently observed him for several long minutes. "I'm still me." As if to prove his point he grabbed a sandwich that had been left on a table between them since breakfast and stuffed it into his mouth without sitting up properly. "Seein ano'e' life ma'es you hun'ry," he said, talking around the bread.

Having Ron behave in such a familiar fashion did relax the other two, which made Ron smug and when Harry noticed it he understood that they had been played, but he couldn't be angry about it. He was too relieved that his friend was up and talking.

"Do you feel like telling us about it, about what you experienced?" Hermione asked, her voice a bit timid.

Ron frowned as he swallowed his overly large bite. "Do I have something on my face? Like a frown? Blood maybe? Come on, I'm still me. I won't bite or hurt you or anything. And sure I'll tell you a bit, of course. That's part of why we're doing this, right? So, I well. I don't remember my - his," he fell silent. "This will be weird. His life. I don't remember all of it. Only significant parts and a few random bits. That what's makes it easier to still be me; still be Ron I mean." He took another bite of his sandwich and chewed with his mouth obnoxiously open, though he did swallow before continuing this time. "Like the people in the book my correlate is Asgardian. Unlike me he's an only child. That was refreshing and a bit sad. Makes me appreciate my family more. I think I understand you better Harry."

The green eyed teen nodded. "Does your correlate have a name you feel like sharing?"

"Sure. Noid Jahlmarson. He's a soldier, working closely under a young Asgardian general called Týr, he's being trained to take up command in the army. I guess I was right about the chess taking a different form if used differently. I learned a few useful battle strategies, at least I think so. They might have to be adjusted for wizards, but the basics are the same."

"It all worked," Hermione murmured, sounding a bit stunned, considering what she'd told Harry while Ron was under, about wondering what parts of magic was real, her reaction wasn't surprising. "It actually worked."

"Of course it did, you did most of the work. How could you make anything wrong?"

She blushed at the praise, but looked distinctly pleased by it, the success making the words easier to hear. "There were no guarantees."

"I'm not going to dwell on that now. We succeeded. I learned something useful and like I said, I sort of feel more like myself than I ever did before. Asgardians are so old generally. All that experience Noid had; it makes me feel more confident in myself, like I know who I am and what I want. Like I know what matters and what in life is just a bother that you can shake off and forget about."

"So a soldier?"

"Yep."

"What did Asgard look like?" Hermione asked, her eyes alighting with academic curiosity.

"It's magnificent, grand. There's water throughout the city, and the buildings are all of stone and each one is decorated with carvings. There are tall towers and arched bridges and gardens between the houses. The palace lies in the heart of the city, towering over everything else."

And so Ron went on, describing the geography of Asgard as best he could, reporting that Odin was the Allfather and that there had been a war with Jotunheim that had ended only years before. He spoke about visiting Midgard and seeing muggles living primitively, which had made him realize that the muggles in modern day England were a lot more like wizards than he'd previously thought. He told them about Vanaheim too, where he had lived for a number of years during his youth, as Noid's father worked to establish diplomatic connections with the Realm on the Allfather's orders. He spoke until his voice grew hoarse and then they began to think of what they should do next. Harry wished to connect with his correlate next, and as everything had turned out well with Ron, no one saw a reason to object.

End Chapter One – Two Sides of a Coin

AN 2nd December 2015

Welcome to the story. I hope you enjoyed the prologue and the first chapter. The direction this story is taking; I'll tell you that it's surprising me in the best of ways. It feels awesome.

One of the reasons I write are you. Knowing that you read the story, and seeing the reviews you leave keep me going when I struggle with the writing. Please let me know how you liked the chapter, what thoughts it stirred up or just say hi. I love knowing that you have been here reading, no matter how long it has been since the chapter was posted.

There will be a new chapter out in a week. See you then!

[Last Edited 10th December 2015]