Sorry, this one took a bit. I actually had to do a bit of serious thinking as to how this chapter was going to play out. And after reading through it, I almost feel like it should have been called "Liam's Lecture." But alas, I kept the original title ... Mostly because Liam's Lecture sounds like a college course, not a chapter title. Bit of an exposition-type chapter ... And it ends with a reluctant meeting. So I don't know ... Maybe good?

Enjoy ...

- Chapter Eleven -

From Whence it Came

"Hermione …"

"Hermione … Wake up …"

"Hermione …"

Ron's voice finally burst through her dreams and pulled Hermione into a reluctant state of consciousness. Still weary and rubbing her sleep ridden eyes, she sat up to see Ron at the bedside, squatting down as he gently nudged her from her slumber.

"What time is it?" she asked.

"Early," Ron answered quietly, a detail that put Hermione on the alert. "Not even six."

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked.

"Dunno," Ron answered. "But the Minister's here."

"Kingsley's here?" Hermione gasped, leaping from her bed and grabbing her robe from the chair along the far wall.

"Got someone with him, too," Ron said. "Proper git in a bowler."

Ron's voice continued, but was drowned out by the rushing of blood in Hermione's ears as she raced from the room, tying her robe as she went along. Peering down from the top of the stairs, she saw Kingsley Shacklebolt sitting on the sofa, quietly engaged in conversation with another man who held a bowler cap in one hand and a walking stick in the other; a man she recognized immediately.

Upon seeing Hermione descend the stairs, both stood and greeted her with a polite bow.

"Minister," Hermione said with a welcoming smile.

"Miss Granger," Kingsley returned before gesturing to his companion. "Allow me to introduce—"

"Liam," Hermione interjected. "Buckley, if memory serves."

"It does indeed," Liam said with a smile.

It had been years, but the years had been quite kind. Perhaps a bit of aging around the eyes, a crease in his jawline, but little else. His hair remained full and free of grey, his posture and gaze young and strong.

"I see," Kingsley said with genuine surprise. "I was unaware you had already been acquainted."

"Many years ago," Liam explained causally. "She was merely a student at the time. I was uncertain she would even remember."

"Oh, you left quite an impression," Hermione assured. "Both times."

"Happy to hear," Liam said with a nod.

"Well then," Kingsley said in an attempt to move on. "We do apologize for the early morning intrusion. However, there are circumstances that require immediate attention."

"Circumstances?" Hermione asked with an eye on Liam.

"Yes, I'm afraid," Kingsley answered. "So, if you would please come with us, we can—"

"I'm to have an escort to the Ministry?" Hermione pressed further, folding her arms in frustrated defiance.

"We only wish to assure you will arrive," Liam explained.

"May I at least wash and change into proper clothing?" Hermione asked with a bit of bite in her tone.

"Of course," Kingsley answered with a comforting smile.

"But first," Liam interjected, lifting his walking stick and giving it a quick twist.

A ripple burst from its silver handle and dispersed throughout the area.

"Did you just seal my home?" Hermione asked with exasperation.

"Only a precaution," Liam clarified.

The sigh and repressed scowl in Kingsley expression was evident. Even so, he said nothing to contradict Liam's actions. Ron, however, had clearly seen enough to become unsettled by the display.

"Hang on, now," he spoke up. "Is there something going on here I need to know about?"

"There is always something one needs to know," Liam answered simply. "The question is whether one truly should."

This time it was Liam casting an eye towards Hermione. The insinuation could not have been more evident.

"Does that mean you're not going tell me?" Ron pressed.

"It does," Liam answered with as much simplicity as his previous response.

"Not to worry," Kingsley assured, his warm and assuring smile returning. "It is merely procedure. I promise you, all is well."

"Yeah?" Ron asked.

"With certainty," Kingsley assured.

Although not appearing any more comfortable than he had previously, Ron stood down. Hermione did, as well. There did not seem to be any other viable options at the moment. Aside from that, it was an inevitability that Hermione had been expecting from the moment she lay her head on her pillow the previous night.

Making her way back up the stairs, Hermione washed, dressed, and returned to her escorts. After Liam released the seal he had placed upon the house and Kingsley grabbed hold of Hermione, the three Disapparated from the room, leaving Ron to fester in a frustrated fog of unknowing.

. . .

Upon arriving at the Ministry, Hermione was greeted by an overwhelming amount of inconspicuous security. Inconspicuous in the fact that they dressed in plain suits and cloaks like any number of others who work within the Ministry's various departments, but noticeable to anyone who recognized the uniformity of their deep purple gloves. This detail alone distinguished them from any allies whom Hermione often found in her company.

These new additions to the escort continued along with Kingsley, Liam, and Hermione until they reached the office of the Minister of Magic. There they lined up on either side of the door and waited at attention.

"Is all of this truly necessary?" Hermione asked.

"Not before last night," Liam answered as he opened the door, allowing for Hermione and Kingsley to enter before following and closing the door behind him.

In the office, Hermione immediately saw Harry sitting in one of the dark leather and mahogany chairs displayed before the Kingsley's desk. Draco was there as well, although he was engaged in what had become an almost common practice of agitated pacing. A third person was also present. Like Liam, Hermione recognized this man as well. Unlike Liam, the years appeared to have taken a far greater toll.

"Hermione," Kingsley began. "This is—"

"Phineas Dollus," Hermione said, again beating Kingsley to the point.

"You know him?" Harry asked with surprise as he arose to greet Hermione and Kingsley.

"They've met," Draco said. "Liam too," he added with an unpleasant nod to Hermione's escort.

"Liam?" Harry inquired further.

"Liam Buckley," Liam offered as an introduction, extending his hand to Harry, who shook it firmly, albeit with some hesitation.

"And how is it that you two know each other?" Harry asked of Hermione.

"Best we stick to what's important I think," Liam offered.

"And where is Aeris?" Hermione asked. "Off rounding up another party of whom I'm unaware?"

"Alas no," Liam answered. "She chose to retire so as to spend time with our children. A true blessing for those in our line of work."

Hermione recalled Dumbledore's mention of congratulations when Liam, Aeris, and Dollus attempted to apprehend her and Luna all those years ago in the dark halls Hogwarts. So, the explanation certainly seemed reasonable. However, Hermione's trust had been pressed severely thin of late, and very little could be taken at face value.

As Liam and Kingsley retreated to Kingsley's desk, Dollus took the opportunity to approach Hermione for a more proper greeting. His gait was slow and hobbled by his short staff and hunched posture, his hair and beard now presenting far more grey than before. While he did not appear young during their first two encounters, it seemed evident that life had dealt the old sorcerer a significant blow.

"You look well, Miss Granger," he said with a bow of his head.

"Mrs. Weasley," Draco corrected.

"Is it?" Dollus asked. "I do apologize. I was misinformed."

"No, you're correct," Hermione said, staring daggers at Draco for his constant need to raise the point. "I use my maiden name professionally."

"Ah," Dollus returned with a wave of his finger. "As you should. It is name you have earned."

"Thank you," Hermione said uncomfortably, although she had no idea why she felt so. "What happened?" she went on quickly with a gesture to Dollus' staff.

"Time and miles, child," Dollus answered with a smile. "Time and miles."

"Charming," Draco snipped before addressing Kingsley and Liam. "Can we get on with it then? All present and accounted for, right?"

"You certainly seem eager," Kingsley commented with a raised eyebrow.

"Do not confuse eagerness with boredom," Draco returned curtly. "You've dragged us from our beds and paraded us here. I'd rather not waste any time with idle banter or poor philosophies on age and injury."

"Indeed," Kingsley concurred. He then sat at his desk with Liam standing aside him, drumming his fingers over the tip orbed handle of his walking stick. "It appears you three have caused quite a stir."

"That was the point of it," Draco said dismissively.

"A point that was taken quite seriously," Kingsley assured.

Before Kingsley could continue, however, Liam raised his hand to interject.

"If I may, Minister," he offered.

"Please do," Kingsley said with an open-handed gesture offering Liam the floor.

Liam then crossed around to the front of Kingsley's desk and began pacing before Harry, Hermione, and Draco.

"You have passed through the Veil," he began, addressing Hermione and Harry directly. "Or been escorted through, as it were," he added with an eye on Draco. "You are now privy to information of which few are aware, and fewer still can fully appreciate, even comprehend. As such, I must ask … With whom did you share your time on the outskirts of Mitna."

"Mitna?" Harry asked.

"The town beyond the Veil," Draco clarified, although Hermione has already assumed as much. In truth, she believed Harry had done the same. It was merely an attempt to be difficult for sake of being so.

"One of many," Liam corrected. "But yes … This trip of yours beyond the Veil, "he continued. "It is believed by some that this was less a simple trespass and more a furtive meeting."

"Who is the man behind the mask?" Hermione asked, ignoring Liam's inquiries in an attempt to take control of the conversation. Liam seemed stunned by the approach at first, only to be completely dismissive of it a moment later. "What is the Spiorad Druma," Hermione pressed on. "And why does he need it?"

Liam leaned again Kingsley's desk, gently tapping his bowler cap against his leg.

"You seem to misunderstand your circumstance," he explained. "This is not an exchange of ideas or inquiries. You have no authority, no power, no voice. I do hope this fact is clear."

"Are you going to let him speak to us like that?" Harry demanded of Kingsley.

"I am afraid this is out of my hands," Kingsley answered.

"Out of your hands?" Hermione chirped. "You're the Minister of Magic!"

"I am," Kingsley said. "However, it was not our laws you violated, but theirs," he went on with a nod to Liam.

"Theirs?" Hermione protested further. "And who, exactly, are they?"

Almost simultaneously, both Liam and Draco lowered their heads and began to massage their temples. And though the movements mimicked each other, it was clear one displayed embarrassed frustration while the other indicated an annoyed impatience.

"Perhaps you should have been more informative and less impulsive," Liam offered to Draco, who offered nothing more than a fiery glare and gritting teeth in return. Liam then readdressed Hermione and Harry. "It is apparent you have no inclination at to the severity of your actions," he explained calmly. "However, I consider myself a fair and balanced individual. I can place myself in the shoes of others and understand your minds are, no doubt, awash with relevant and unanswered question. So, in the interest of mutual understanding …"

With a wave of his walking stick, the candles adorning the walls of Kingsley's office went out and bathed the room in a sheet of darkness. Another wave summoned up a translucent sphere that hovered in the air before flatting into a two-dimensional rectangular image consisting of intersecting lines and spheres. Although it took a moment for Hermione's eyes to adjust, she eventually recognized it as an oversized world map.

Liam then approached Hermione and gave her a quick once over.

"Hermione Granger, of common birth, or Muggleborn, as you say" Liam began. "Weasley by marriage to one Ron Weasley. No children. Parents in the field of dental hygiene, repair, and construction. Attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry at age eleven. Graduated in eight years, having missed the entirety of her seventh year due to complications arguably beyond her control. Completely unaware of the existence of magic in any sense beyond fantasy until she received her acceptance letter to Hogwarts, after which she immediately practiced several simple spells; a direct violation of the Ministry's laws forbidding the underage use of magic outside of school, but overlooked for the harmless effects as well as her unknowing of any such restrictions at the time."

Hermione wanted to respond but found herself unable to do so. Liam's tone was so quick, so precise and unwavering, and his information uncomfortably thorough. For the first time since she had arrived in Kingsley's office, she felt overwhelmed.

Turning away from Hermione, Liam then stood before Harry.

"Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, born of Pure Blood," he began in the same manner as he had with Hermione. "Married to one Ginny Weasley. Three children; James, Albus, and Lily. Parents murdered when he was but an infant leaving him to spend his young life with his common and emotionally abusive relatives, his only comfort found within the seclusion of his room; a less than spacious cupboard beneath the stairs. Received several notices of his acceptance to Hogwarts, only to be officially enrolled when said invitation was personally delivered by Hogwarts' groundkeeper, a half-giant by the name of Hagrid, on his eleventh birthday while his family attempted to evade the aforementioned acceptance letter by hiding away in the relatively dilapidated Hut-on-the-Rock. Did not graduate, having missed the entirety of his seventh year due to complications arguably, albeit perhaps less so, beyond his control, only to never return again. While often confused by happenings within his surroundings, completely unaware of the existence of magic in any sense beyond fantasy until he received his acceptance letter to Hogwarts … Several times over."

"You've done your homework," Harry spoke up, not nearly as unsettled by Liam's behavior as Hermione had been. Although how this was possible, she could not begin to imagine. "But if this is meant to be some form of threat, you've—"

"Believe me when I say if I was, indeed, threatening you, there would be no need for clarification," Liam warned. "This was merely a sample of what we know, and attempt to introduce who we are."

"And who are you?" Harry asked.

"Sadly, that is not the question you should be asking," Liam answered, returning to a contemplative pacing before Hermione and Harry. "So for the sake of keeping things on track, may I ask you … Have you ever done the arithmetic?"

This time Harry did not have an answer. Whether he did not know what to say or simply did not understand the question, Hermione could not be certain. Either seemed plausible as Hermione felt particularly confused by the query.

"No?' Liam asked after allowing for the moment of awkward silence to run its course. He then moved on to Hermione. "Have you?"

"You will have to be more clear," Hermione answered, clenching her jaw in order to restrain herself from striking at Liam where he stood.

"Indeed," Liam agreed. "Perhaps this will help enlighten your minds," he continued, pointing his walking stick towards the large translucent map that continued to hover above them.

"You're going to enjoy this," Dollus whispered to Hermione and Harry with an excited grin.

"How many schools of witchcraft and wizardry are currently educating the gifted young minds in this world?" Liam began as he tapped an area in the vicinity of Scotland. "Hogwarts …" An image of Hogwarts castle appeared on the map. "Beauxbatons, Durmstrang …" he went on, tapping the map near France and Scandinavia as the schools appeared. He continued in this fashion of listing and tapping as several more schools popped up. "Mahoutokoro, Koldovstoretz, Uagadou, Ilvermorny, and …" He paused, closing his eyes and waving his index finger in contemplation. "I am missing one …"

"Castelobruxo," Kingsley offered.

"Yes," Liam said with a snap. "Castelobruxo. Eight schools in all the world." He now turned to readdress Hermione and Harry. "And how many students would you say are enrolled within each of these institutes of learning at any given time? Three hundred? Six hundred? Shall we estimate on the side of overreaching optimism and say one thousand?"

Each of the schools on the map now became more defined and sprung out into a three-dimensional field over the two-dimensional map.

"Given this number, we can estimate there are, worldwide at any given time, eight thousand students being trained in the various magical arts," Liam explained.

"A very generous number, I'd say," Dollus pointed out.

"And I would agree," Kingsley added.

"While true, for the sake of simplicity, it will have to do," Liam said. "And in that same vain, add to this number an additional sixteen thousand to account for parents, grandparents, and other such relations that have already graduated but have yet to pass on. We come to approximately twenty-four thousand users of magic worldwide blending into a population of several billion people. How long do you suppose it would be until such a small fraction would simply disappear from existence, their bloodlines having been thinned out to extinction and lost to history?"

In truth, this was a concept Hermione had never contemplated. Magic existed. And as such, those capable of harnessing magic and bending it to their will existed as well. The actual numbers involved, nor how impossible sustaining existence with said numbers, was not an equation that had ever crossed Hermione mind. It simply was because it was.

"So the question that should be eating away at you," Liam continued, "clawing its way to the surface in a desperate need for clarity and resolution is not who we are, but rather from whence did it all come."

All at once, a light went off in Hermione's head. The complex simplicities of a world she had taken for granted throughout her life had, in a matter of seconds, become infinitely complicated with impossible formulas and illogical leaps of faith only to resolve itself with one single, almost overly obvious answer.

"Voldavia," she said, her tone a wild cocktail of confidence, strength, fear, and doubt.

A final sweep of Liam's walking stick dissolved the map and school while simultaneously relighting the candles about the office.

"Wait," Harry said. "You're saying magic was brought here from Voldavia?"

"Everything comes from somewhere," Liam answered.

"But why?" Harry asked, seemingly finding this revelation difficult to accept.

"Why?" Liam echoed.

"Why" Harry reiterated. "Why here? Why such small numbers? Why …" he bumbled for a moment, attempting to collect thoughts that simply would not express themselves clearly. "Why everything?"

"For the same reason as any civilization as it goes through the process of cultural evolution," Liam explained. "A search for knowledge, a sharing of ideas, exploration, expansion …"

"If that's true," Harry went on, now pressing his hand to his forehead in anxious contemplation, "then the whole thing doesn't make a bit of sense. A search for knowledge, sharing ideas, expansion … Then why are we forced to live in hiding from Muggles. And the numbers? Twenty-four thousand in a world of several billion? I don't know how miniscule that fraction is, but it hardly seems … I don't know … Like expansion. I mean, magic has been here for … like … forever."

Hermione was stunned by Harry's reactions. While she felt very much the same, she had never really considered Harry one to think in such a manner. He was far more a person of faith and belief, particularly when it came to the wizarding community. Suddenly, he had become someone altogether different right before Hermione's eyes.

"Not quite forever," Liam corrected as he held his walking stick out horizontally. "Allow me to explain."

He then released his walking stick and it hovered in the air before segmenting in uniform breaks, each section twisting vertically so as to resemble a form of visual timeline.

"Thousands of years ago our ancestors first arrived in your world, having traversed the Veil," he explained as images of what appeared to be pyramids and ziggurats appeared above the first segmented section of the line, quickly followed by temples of Greek and Roman design further down. "At that time, our numbers were far greater. We were accepted, respected, even revered for our talents. We found that the energies in this world, much like in our own, could be manipulated and bent to our wills. While not as strong as Voldavia, these energies were viable. And we also discovered that, like us, many individuals amongst your ancestors possessed the ability to harness theses energies. With proper tutelage, we were able to share our knowledge, to grow, to assimilate."

With a wave of his hand several other markers on the makeshift timeline displayed various images that ranged from Medieval and Renaissance era architecture to religious symbols and sculptures.

"However, all worlds do not evolve in the same manner," Liam continued. "In time, acceptance and reverence turned to fear and persecution." Shadowy images appeared, displaying bodies hanging from trees and burning upon pyres engulfed in flames. "We came to the realization that we had but two alternatives. Retreat to the shadows and maintain a presence, albeit a small and quiet one …"

"Or?" Hermione asked.

"Or conquer you people," Dollus offered with a grim certainty.

Liam cast a glance toward Dollus before continuing. "Some agreed with the former," he explained. "Others the latter. Without a united front, both avenues failed. The commoners won out with their sheer numbers and ever-increasing tools of destruction. The wizarding world not only went into hiding, but fell under the restrictions agreed upon by the various governmental bodies that scatter your lands. If we were to stay, we were to abide by their decrees, their rules, their regulations. A free and open world of magic became riddled with age restrictions, location limitations, and absolute bans on any number of powerful magics, Dark and otherwise. Walk the proverbial line or we disappear," he finally concluded. "These were the options bestowed upon us after the fall."

Liam reached out and grasped a section of his walking stick. With a few clicks and snaps, all the sections reassembled as the shadowy imagery that hovered about them faded away.

"And that's it?" Hermione asked. "Every just walks this proverbial line?"

"If that were true," Liam answered, "we would not be here, would we?"

Hermione and Harry exchanged a glance. Feeling suddenly suffocated within her own environment, the lingering sense of doubt she had always carried with her throughout her life emerged and tore at her confidence; a mask she had worn very well in recent years.

"Are we being arrested?" she asked, her voice far weaker than she had intended.

"Oh, enough already!" Draco spoke up. "You're not being arrested, and neither is Harry."

With what had been occurring, Hermione had almost forgotten Draco was even there. He had remained silent throughout Liam's exposition, no doubt because he was already aware of most, if not all, of what was being revealed. Once such a bitter adversary, Hermione never dreamed a day would come that his voice would bring any amount of relief.

"Are you so certain?" Liam asked.

Draco approached Liam and looked him directly in the eye. "I am," he answered in a firm and even tone. "So how about we move on, yeah?"

"Got brass on him, eh Liam?" Dollus said with a chuckle.

Liam simply stared back at Draco without a word. After a moment's tension, he smiled.

"Very well," he conceded. "You are not being detained in any manner," he went on with a glance towards Hermione and Harry. "To the contrary, you are being recruited."

"Recruited?" Harry asked. "Into what?"

Without another word, Liam placed his bowler cap upon his head, straightened his jacket, and turned to Kingsley.

"I believe that should be all for now," he said. "We will be in touch."

"I look forward to it," Kingsley said in return, standing and offered a nod of departure.

Offering no such pleasantries to Hermione, Harry, or Draco, Liam then left the office. Dollus followed behind and, while issuing no audible farewell, offered a nod and a wave as the door closed behind him with an echoing clank. Once the two were gone, Hermione felt a wave of pressure release all about her, as if she could finally breath after having been submerged in water.

"I don't think I like him," Harry mumbled.

"Get used to it," Draco mumbled in return.

Kingsley sat at his desk once again and began to casually sort through a handful of parchments that were scattered about. Not that he was ever one to show any form of severe emotion, his manner of calm and casual smile was almost unnerving.

"Minister?" Hermione asked.

"Miss Granger?" Kingsley offered in return.

"What now?" Hermione asked on with a shrugging gesture.

"Now I believe you three should return home," Kingsley answered.

"Go home?" Harry protested. "Now? Are you serious?"

"I am," Kingsley confirmed. "Take some time, rest, organize your thoughts."

"Have we been suspended?" Hermione asked as an enveloping sense of powerlessness grew within her.

"You have not," Kingsley assured with another smile. "As Liam has already informed, you have merely been recruited."

Somehow, these words, words clearly meant as encouragement, managed to further strip away at Hermione's confidence. She looked to Harry, then to Draco. The latter's expression indicated, much to Hermione's discontent, that it was not the time to be pushing back. The world had truly gone mad now that Draco had become any form of guide in her life, but she could not honestly argue against it.

Like scalded children, Hermione, Harry, and Draco filed out of Kingsley's office and continued off down the hall, set to spend the day at home, an impromptu holiday in a life that saw few of such luxuries. Albeit whether it was a gift or a punishment remained an uncertainty.

. . .

The following morning, Hermione was greeted by an owl with a message from Kingsley that she was to remain at home. It came with no further explanation, no further instruction, just a simple script …

Miss Granger,

Kindly remain at home today.

- Kingsley Shacklebolt

Minister of Magic

Hermione soon realized Harry and Draco received the same request with the same lack of reasoning. The next day was met with the same result, as was the one after. This left Hermione not only with a significant amount of free time, which offered little more than increasing anxiety, it also found her surrounded by questions from Ron, Arthur, Molly, and anyone else who caught wind of her unscheduled hiatus; questions she knew very well she could not answer.

On the third night, Harry and Ginny came over for dinner. As the evening died down, Hermione and Harry stole away for a moment to discuss what had occurred and what they feared may occur still. They each lamented over the guilt of having to keep such weighted secrets from their loved ones, as well as how being disallowed to return to work, thus spending more time amongst those with whom they could not speak to in regards to what truly lay beyond the Veil, only furthered this burden.

Harry mentioned he had been in contact with Draco, who had passed along little more than his initial request for patience. Sadly, this was a virtue currently in little supply.

After Harry and Ginny left for the evening, an evening Hermione had to admit allowed her to feel a sense of normality that had escaped her in recent days, the house grew quiet once again. Having an early start to the following day, Ron went upstairs and retired, leaving Hermione to sit alone across from the fireplace, staring into the burning embers. Reaching into the pocket of her knit sweater, she gently massaged the silver Sickle Altimus had given her as her thoughts began to wander. She was becoming frustrated and restless, but knew she needed to maintain a level head. It was a struggle in which she found herself failing.

She did not know how long she sat there gazing upon the tongues of fire as they lapped against the charred stones of the hearth. She did not know what sparked her motion, nor what numbed her sense of inhibition. But Hermione finally stood, crossed the room, quietly opened her front door, and Disapperated.

Moments later, she was standing aside a small pond only a short walk from 12 Grimmauld Place. It had been years since she had laid eyes upon this area. A walking path now ran along the shore, the old bench now showing rust in its frame, its wooden planks stripped bare of its paint. Even the plants and flowers that had been planted very much changed the view from the one she held in her memory. But still, the memory remained.

Slowly removing the Sickle from her pocket, Hermione raised the coin to her lips, her breath fogging the silver as she dared herself to continue. Closing her eyes as her heart beat through her chest, she allowed his name to escape in a whisper and waited.

Nothing.

In the silence of night, Hermione kept her eyes closed, listening in hopes of hearing anything beyond the nocturnal sounds of nature. As the seconds ticked by, the drumming in her chest slowed, only to be replaced by a sinking sense of hopeless loss. Her breath quivered as the reality her futile actions enveloped her. When she finally opened her eyes and looked about the empty area, the final spark of hope faded, leaving her emotionally vacant and cursing her own foolishness.

Staring at the coin in her hand, Hermione was almost temped to cast it into the waters that shimmered in the moonlight before her. Instead, she placed it back into her pocket, relinquishing her hold upon it as well as its hold upon her.

As she cast one last glance towards the pond, resigned to simply return home having found herself wanting and weak, she finally heard him … And her heart leapt into her throat.

"You do not very much look like Altimus …"