The only time that Harry was ever out of bed this early was on those unpleasant occasions when Oliver Wood was feeling particularly maniacal, and decided to inflict his malevolent, dervish-like desire to win the Quidditch Cup on the rest of his team. On those painful mornings, Harry would be forced to haul himself from the warmth of his bed and into the chilly Scottish morning air, where he would speed around on his broom and try to wrap his hands around a little golden ball with fluttering wings.
Today saw him out of bed before the dawn light for a purpose with many of the same characteristics, only promising Harry a far more pleasurable outcome than closing his fingers around the Golden Snitch. The similarities of the cause were not lost on him, either, for he was rather hoping to close his hands … or, more precisely, his arms … around something shiny with wings today, too.
For he was convinced that Hermione was pretty much an angel … she just kept her wings tucked out of sight for safe keeping.
And she was due to come back to Hogwarts today. Harry had been too excited to sleep, determined as he was to be waiting for Hermione when she arrived and fearful that he might sleep through her return. So his night had been a restless one, broken into thirty minute increments of light sleep, followed by a swift check of his watch, then repeat the process again.
By the time the first hint of light poked over the window frame of the boy's top dorm of Gryffindor Tower, Harry decided enough was enough with his feeble attempts to sleep and decided to get up. He dressed in the quiet, dusky light, listening to the other boys breathing deeply in their slumber, before slipping silently down the stairs and into the deserted Common Room.
"Well," Harry thought to himself. "Looks like she hasn't arrived yet. So much the better. I can meet her at the Entrance Hall."
"Harry, you do realise that Hermione could turn up at any time today, yes?" Marici pointed out from his pocket. "You'd have been better off staying in bed. I mean, you're totally sheet-faced."
"Sheet-faced?" Harry guffawed. "What's that?"
"You have crinkles all over your face, from where your bedsheets have pressed into your skin," Marici explained. "Hence sheet-faced."
"I thought you were saying something rude!"
"I know you did!" Marici laughed. "But though we may be two halves of the same being, I rather think that all the juvenile humour is contained on your side!"
"Don't act all high and mighty," Harry chuckled back. "I heard you chortling away during Ancient Runes yesterday, when Professor Pullman was talking about all symbols phallic and yoni. You've not matured past infantile humour no matter how much you like to lord it over me!"
"Keep telling yourself that, Harry," Marici replied, haughtily. "In any case, all I'm saying is that we could be waiting a long time for Hermione to turn up today."
"I'll wait all day for her if I have to," Harry retorted. "She's worth it. I cant think of a better reason to wait for anything."
"I agree, but we wont be able to wait all day, no matter how much we are prepared to. It's Friday, we still have lessons and Quidditch training tonight."
"I'm going to blow off Quidditch later," Harry told his dæmon, curtly. "I'll tell Wood that I saw a Grim or something, and that I'm trying to avoid any hazards that might cost me a limb."
"Do you really think he'll believe that?" Marici asked, doubtfully.
"Of course," Harry replied, brightly. "You know what Wood's like … when it comes to Quidditch, he thinks a single tail-twig out of alignment is a bad omen, so let's play on his superstitions and skip training."
"Okay, but what about our classes? We cant miss those."
"No, and we cant pretend to be sick either," Harry frowned as he considered the problem. "I suppose we'll have to go to our lessons then, even if it means being late."
"We'd better not do that," Marici warned. "We have Potions after lunch and we don't want Snape giving us detention on the day Hermione comes home."
Harry nodded in reticent agreement as they reached the Entrance Hall. It was so early that Hagrid hadn't even been up to open the huge main doors yet. Harry was a bit cross at that, as he had half a mind on idling up to the school gates to wait there, but instead he turned to the right and ambled into the Great Hall and slid down at the Gryffindor Table.
Harry didn't think he'd ever been in the Great Hall by himself before. It was an odd sensation. Being empty as it was, Harry appreciated even more the cathedral-like quality of the place, with its high vaulted ceilings and shadowy crevices. But it was draughty, too, despite still being early September. Perhaps he'd just close the door.
But as he got up, he heard voices from the staircase just outside the Great Hall, the one leading down to the dungeons. Pausing just inside the door, Harry crouched down to listen to the conversation as it passed over him.
"Drink that Lupin, do it immediately," Harry heard Professor Snape say.
"I will. Thank you, Severus," Lupin replied.
"I have brewed an entire cauldron full, if you need more," Snape went on.
"I imagine I will need some more tomorrow night, before the moon rises," Lupin considered. "I will come to collect another goblet after my lessons are finished."
"As you wish," Snape answered in a cold tone, before Harry heard the sound of his long cloak swishing against the flagstones as he moved away. What was that all about?
But Harry didn't have much time to think about that, as the sound of rattling keys drifted to his ears from the main doors. There was the grinding of a heavy key into the lock, the creak of the door swinging open and then of Hagrid, whistling like an owl as he entered the building. Harry ducked out from his hiding place, causing Hagrid to jump in his surprise, shaking the very floor as his whole weight landed back to Earth.
"Gallopin' Gargoyles, Harry! You scared me there!" Hagrid cried, clutching at his chest. "Don' normally find you up this early."
"I'm waiting for Hermione, she's coming home today," Harry replied, breezily. "Sorry for startling you."
"I can think of better ways to start my day," the Keeper of the Keys chuckled. "Fancy a cuppa in my hut? I don' think the elves get the first brew on for at least half an hour yet."
"Sounds great," Harry beamed, following Hagrid away from the castle and down to the log cabin. Fang bounded out to greet them, leaping up at Harry so that his front legs were either side of Harry's head before slobbering all over his cheeks.
"Down, Fang!" Hagrid barked. "Sorry 'bout his meaty breath, Harry. He's just had breakfast."
"It's fine," Harry grimaced, wiping the essence of diced lamb in jelly from his face and stepping through into Hagrid's hut.
"So, Miss Hermione's due back today, is she?" Hagrid asked, taking the kettle from over the fireplace and pouring the steaming water into one of his chipped mugs. "How was the funeral?"
"The what?" Harry replied, before quickly remembering his ruse. "Oh, right, the funeral. Well, it went like all funerals I suppose. A lot of tears, a lot of reminiscing stories, that sort of thing. Hermione didn't say much about it, to be honest. Just that she was coming back today. She was probably still a bit upset."
"Well, I've got something that might cheer her right up," Hagrid grinned. "Or, maybe it'd be better sayin', my next lesson does."
"Why? What do you have planned?" Harry queried, blowing his red-hot tea to cool it. "Is it more exciting than flobberworms?"
Hagrid chuckled deeply at that. "Wasn' the most rivetin' first class was it? But Dumbledore advised me to start small, just to get the hang of it. Great man, Dumbledore. But now I'm going to step it up a bit, show you all a treat."
"What is it?"
"Hippogriffs, Harry," Hagrid announced proudly. "Half giant eagle, half mare. They're quite beau'iful, once you get passed the initial shock."
"A creature that's half-bird, half-horse?" Harry frowned. "Seriously, how does that even happen? Someone needs to have a word with the magical geneticists. Where will it stop? Cross-breeding manticores with fire-crabs?"
"You know, tha's not a bad idea," Hagrid considered, rubbing his rugged beard thoughtfully.
"I was joking, Hagrid …"
"Oh, oh … so was I," Hagrid replied hurriedly, though his eyes betrayed how fast his mind was whirring.
"So, what do I need to know about hippogriffs?" Harry went on, trying to get the subject back on track. "I want to show off in your lessons, but I'm a bit scared of opening The Monster Book of Monsters to learn how!"
"Yeah, they can be a bit brutal," Hagrid chortled. "I thought they were funny."
"Mmm, but you also tried to raise a fire-breathing dragon in a wooden house," Harry smirked, causing Hagrid's skin to redden. "It's your uniqueness, Hagrid, and we all love it … so long as it doesn't try to eat, kill or maim us!"
"I'll keep tha' in mind for the future!" Hagrid boomed in a deep laugh. "But yeah, hippogriffs next week. They're really proud creatures, are hippogriffs. They gotta come to you, then you gotta bow to 'em before they let you near 'em. Loyal beasts though, and if you fly on one you'll be blessed by eternal love. Symbols of love they are, see, in some cultures."
"Symbols of love?" Harry scoffed, derisively. "A half-bird, half-horse hybrid is a symbol of love? Hearts, flowers, pretty things like that are symbols of love, Hagrid … how in the hell does a flying horse-bird make the list?"
"It's the mythology, see," Hagrid explained. "A mare and a griffin, which is what an eagle is sometimes known as. They are natural enemies, so their offspring is seen as overcoming that, of love triumphing over the impossible, which is what a bird and horse mating should be, enemies or not."
"I think I see," Harry replied, scrunching his face as he tried to imagine the beast in his mind. "So it's sort of like overcoming all obstacles so that love can prevail, and the hippogriff is the child of that?"
"Exactly," Hagrid nodded. "And that'll be worth ten House points if you say it in my class next week. And if you ever ride a hippogriff with a special girl, it will be worth so much more! Speakin' of which, when did you say Miss Hermione is due back?"
Harry felt himself blush. "I'm not sure of the exact time. Just that it's today."
"Well, let's get you back up to the castle so you can be ready to meet her on a full stomach," Hagrid grinned. "Just lemme finish peeling these spuds and I'll walk you there myself."
Twenty minutes later and Harry was saying goodbye to Hagrid at the doors to Hogwarts. He was moving his lip gingerly, having cut it slightly on Hagrid's damaged porcelain, and was considering if it was bad enough to warrant a visit to Madam Pomfrey, when he heard the sound of a carriage rattling along the driveway from the direction of the school gates.
Heart pounding loudly in his ears, Harry turned to see the people disembarking from the vehicle as it came to a full stop … he saw Lyra first, oddly accompanied by his own mother … then his insides started to coil and uncoil like a waking animal, as he caught his first glimpse of that familiar shock of bushy brown hair.
The best friends spotted each other at about the same time, he from the Entrance Hall and she from the bottom of the path that down led to Hagrid's Hut. A second later and Harry was flying down the steps, across the Central courtyard and towards Hermione, who was racing up the path to meet him halfway, with Papageno bounding behind in her wake. They skidded to identical, awkward halts when they were each about a foot away from the other. Hermione was breathing heavily, her eyes bright from the brisk run. Harry's heart was thudding in every pulse point on his body.
But neither seemed to know the right thing to do next. They stood for several pregnant moments, Harry deliberating over a range of greeting possibilities in his head. In the end, he decided on the middle ground. He reached out and snatched Hermione to him, pulling her close in a fierce hug as Papageno rubbed himself unashamedly up against Harry's leg.
That Hermione was surprised by Harry's action was obvious, but she went without one hint of protest, allowing her forearms to be pinioned between her upper body and Harry's, where he'd caught them there with his sudden movement. As he squeezed her tight, she opened her palms to splay against him, turning her head to press into his chest, deeply breathing in his scent, practically drowning in it a moment.
"You've grown a bit since I last saw you!" she observed breathily.
"Yeah, in everything but my sense!" Harry smiled into her hair. Reluctantly, he let her go. He didn't want to, but he thought he'd better before this became weird.
"Sorry I missed your birthday," Hermione apologised the moment she could get a proper look at him, broadcasting her honesty into his face.
"Forget about that!" Harry cried. "What happened with your parents? Are they okay? Are you okay? Answer the last question first!"
Hermione giggled sweetly. "I'm fine. They aren't, but I suppose Pantalaimon told you about that … and about what I asked Lyra?"
"Yeah, he did, but you can tell me everything I don't already know," Harry declared, before grabbing Hermione by the sleeve. "I'm dragging you for a circuit around the Great Lake before I'll let you have breakfast. We have so much to catch up on. Hi, Lyra, hi Mum. What are you doing here … and where's Sirius?"
"Perhaps you should tell Harry about that first, honey," Lyra advised Hermione. "Eat that frog before starting on the other ones."
"Eat a frog?" Harry asked, confused. "Are we going French?"
"No, silly!" Hermione laughed, slipping her arm into Harry's and resting her forehead affectionately against his shoulder as she giggled away. "It's just a phrase from our world … Eat That Frog … it means tackle the biggest, worst, or most awkward task first, then the others won't seem that bad."
Harry didn't think he liked where this was going. "So Sirius not being with you is the biggest frog in your pond? What's my idiot Godfather gone and done to himself this time?"
"He borrowed your streak of heroism," Hermione explained fondly, as she guided Harry away from Lyra and Lily, who made their way towards the castle for a cup of tea and a natter about their children.
"Sirius? Heroic?" Harry scoffed light-heartedly. "He cant have been … there's no money in it for him!"
Hermione laughed back, then her expression darkened seriously. "No, really he has. We found out that the Magisterium in my world have a horrible plan that they want to carry out, one that will stop dæmons ever coming to babies at all."
"Sweet Merlin!" Harry exclaimed in horror. "That's disgusting! It's an outrage! How do they plan to do it?"
"We don't know that yet, and that's why Sirius isn't with us," Hermione replied. "He's stayed behind in my old world to help Malcolm find it out. The Magisterium have the magic of Thomas Riddle on their side, so Sirius is going to 'lend his wand to the fight', as he put it, to even things up there."
"Typical," Harry riled. "As soon as things get really dangerous, Sirius decides to go all noble. I bet it doesn't suit him!"
"It took a while to get used to, I must admit!" Hermione giggled playfully. "Lyra was beside herself when they parted … she loves him far more than she lets on, you know."
"It was good of her to send Pan on ahead to tell me you were coming back," said Harry. "And she shouldn't worry about Sirius. He's tough and wily, and you said Mal knows how to handle himself, too. They'll be alright. I cant believe they want to stop people having dæmons … it's just the best thing! How could they want to take that away from people? Ooh, speaking of dæmons … you're going to love this!"
Harry then reached into his pocket, took out mini-Marici and presented her to Hermione, grinning widely as he did so. Hermione reached out on instinct to smooth the little lioness, then instantly snapped her hand back as if she'd just carelessly passed it over an open flame.
"Oh my god! How cute do you look!" Hermione swooned. "Look, Pap! Look how tiny Marici is!"
They stopped and Harry knelt down to allow Papageno to come up and sniff tenderly at Marici, who pouted and turned away from everyone in a huff.
"How did you do it? Oh, a Shrinking Charm I suppose?" Hermione asked then answered before Harry had a chance to open his mouth. "That's impressive magic, Harry, not to mention being a really good idea. Can you make Marici big again? Do you know the spell for it?"
"Yes, can you, Harry?" Marici sniped in her pixie-level growl. "You know how much I hate being this size."
"I cant make you fully big again, not in the daytime when other people might be watching, you know that," Harry reminded his dæmon. "Tell you what, I'll make you Pap's size for a bit, then you can play together while we walk around the Lake. That good enough for you?"
"I accept," Marici agreed.
Harry took out his wand and cast the Engorgio Charm, allowing Marici to grow until she was just a little smaller than Papageno, who was on the big side for a cat anyway. As soon as Harry put his wand away, Marici leapt from his arms and padded over to Papageno and immediately began smoothing her face against his. Then they ran away in front of Harry and Hermione, chasing and playing and lightly biting at each other, before rolling around in a display of intimate frolicking that Harry thought bordered on the indecent.
Not that he could think too much about that conundrum, on account of the effect that the dæmon contact was having on him.
For Harry could feel every single instance of the dæmon touching as though it were on his own skin, tickling and tingling all over and making him very hot and flustered. It caught the breath in his lungs every time he felt the puff of Papageno's hot breath on Marici's fur, making him flush and look shyly away from both the dæmons and from Hermione, too.
She, herself, had turned her eyes down in a show of delicate embarrassment at the display of their dæmons, clutching her hands together tightly and rolling her lips between her teeth as they walked on in timid silence for a good while. And Harry came to realise a sudden new truth as they ambled along in this manner … that whatever this was that he was feeling, Hermione could feel the exact same thing, herself.
It brought a curious question to Harry's mind, one he hadn't really given any thought to before. He knew plenty about dæmons by now, both from Papageno and even moreso since Marici had become corporeal in his life. He knew the golden rule, that it was forbidden to touch the dæmon of another person, but was it the same for your dæmon to touch someone else's? And what did it mean when they did?
It was a strange concept. Harry tried to equate it with the equivalent human to human contact, but somehow it didn't seem encompassing enough. He was burning with the desire to ask Hermione about it, but for some reason the idea of posing the question terrified him, as though he already knew the answer but that the voicing of it would trigger a fundamental change in his understanding of the world.
And with that bone-deep fear of change still swirling through him, Harry decided to park the question for now and ask something else instead, maybe every other question possible in the English Language, until he found to courage to ask this one.
"So, what happened with your parents?" Harry asked, his breath throaty and an octave higher than he expected it to be.
Hermione seemed delighted at the chance to change the subject, too, even if the discussion promised to be painful and morbid.
"Voldemort cut away their dæmons, literally severed the link between them and my parents," Hermione began, bitterly. "It was so abrupt and unexpected that it sent them into something called Separation Shock, a form of trauma that affects the mind and the very soul of a person. The witch, Serafina Pekkala, told me that it happens to witches in her clan sometimes, if they try and Separate from their dæmons without proper preparation or not being mentally right to carry out the process."
"Isn't that what you did, with Pap?" Harry asked gently, still pointedly avoiding looking at the pair of dæmons pouncing all over each other on the path ahead of them.
Hermione wasn't looking at them either, even though her eyes were dancing with light and fervour, and simply nodded briefly and continued on with her story. "Yes, but Pap and I had already agreed on the course we wanted to take. You can have no doubts. You must be completely accepting of everything that Separation entails … all the pain, all the hurt, but also all the promise of love when you reunite."
"And you were? Completely accepting, I mean?"
Hermione finally turned to look at Harry then, with a smile so bright that Harry instantly looked away again.
"We were," Hermione breathed softly, stepping closer to Harry under the pretence of avoiding a divot in the path, but in a stride far longer than the little hole required. "And we still are, as it happens."
Harry felt as if his entire face was on fire, as though Hermione was warming him with her own personal sunlight. And she was so close to him now … too close, actually. Had she done that on purpose? Harry shyly hoped that she had, but didn't know why she would have. But Hermione hadn't gone back to her original distance once the divot was successfully navigated, and Harry found he'd quite like to keep her where she was for just a little bit longer.
And because Hermione didn't seem to want to move, Harry assumed it was okay to not want her to, either. Unless he was supposed to move when she did. That actually made a lot of sense, but it was too late now. It would look odd if Harry just stepped away from her, especially as they were talking about something so private and intimate. Harry decided to focus on that topic, as it was easier to understand than his own rioting feelings.
"So what is Separation Shock? What does it look like?" Harry asked in his breeziest voice.
"A bit like brain damage," Hermione confessed, sadly. "But worse than that, because my Mum and Dad felt like they'd lost all the energy that made them who they were, that even made them human. It was the hardest thing, Harry … when I first saw them, I cried so much that I thought I was going to lose my mind, or die from dehydration at the very least.
"They were so cold, Harry, in ways that I'd never seen a person be cold before. I doubt that a corpse would have had much more warmth. You know what it's like when you see your parents or people you care about … you just feel something there, an energy that is impossible to describe, but you know it's there just the same. But with Mum and Dad that energy just … wasn't. And it was the worst experience of my life. Pap was too scared of it to be around them, and Lyra and Sirius didn't really know what to say to console me.
"I wish you'd been there, Harry. I needed you so much, and you were so far away."
Now Harry took a turn to step in. It was involuntary, but his entire being would have revolted against him if he hadn't. He could feel Hermione's body warmth now, where their hands were so close at their sides.
"I blame myself for so much of it, Harry," Hermione mumbled lowly. "It's all my fault, I know it is. I brought Voldemort down on my parents, brought that evil into my life … and theirs as a result. He targeted them because he couldn't get to me. I'm to blame for everything that's happened to them."
"Then I am, too," Harry told her, quietly. "Because you only came here to find and help me … if you hadn't read the alethiometer …"
"Then the best thing in my life wouldn't have happened," Hermione cut across, staunchly and abruptly. "And I'd be half the person I am without that. I know I didn't do these horrible things to them personally, but I have to bear the burden of responsibility.
"I … I just wish I'd thought about that sooner. Perhaps I could have done something … sent them to a far away land, made them forget all about me or something. That might have kept them safe. It would have been the right thing to do."
"But also a selfish thing," Harry pointed out.
"Selfish?" Hermione asked in surprise. "In what way?"
"Hermione, if you had erased your parent's knowledge of you and sent them away, you'd have done that for your own peace of mind, and it would have had a lot less to do with them. Do you think that's what they would want? To forget all about the existence of their only daughter without being given any say in the matter? I don't think I'd want that, if it was me.
"We are dealing with the most callous of enemies, Hermione, and their attacks against us reflect that. These aren't villains that hurt us with harsh words or wet towel slaps … they wound our loved ones and want us dead. The stakes are that high. Sending your parents away would have been no guarantee of their safety, not against enemies who can reach across worlds to target those in their cross-hairs.
"In any case, don't you think that your parents would have wanted to know that you were in danger? I think they'd have wanted to be in possession of all the facts, all the risks, so they could make an informed decision about what to do … maybe to even try and actively help you, rather than be passive observers in their ignorance."
Hermione smiled at him warmly, obviously impressed by Harry's reasoning.
"When did you become such an enlightened philosopher?" she teased, gently. "Was I away that long?"
"Ha ha," Harry replied dryly, rolling his eyes at the light ribbing. "I'm just saying that what has happened to you and your parents is truly awful, but that's because we are dealing with truly awful entities. If your parents had known just how bad our bad guys are, they might have chosen to go into exile, or they might have chosen to fight for you. Either way, I think they would definitely have wanted to know you were as safe as you could be, considering the threats all around you."
"Do you think what I did was right then … with Lyra, I mean?"
Hermione sounded so childlike, as though she had been waiting for her entire journey back to ask Harry his opinion on this, hoping that he'd provide her with some much-needed validation.
"It might not have been right," Harry considered. "I mean, how can replacing a loving parent ever be right? But it was necessary. Voldemort made this horrendous situation a reality, and you made the decision that you thought was best. I envy you that, you know, that you are so strong? Strong enough to make all these tough decisions all the time. I don't know that I could. But you are just a pillar of strength, really. I'm so lucky, and so proud, to be able to call you my best friend."
Hermione stopped on the spot, turned, then flung her arms around Harry's neck as she burst into tears on his shoulder.
Harry didn't know quite what to do, had not expected this as a result. Making Hermione cry was a bad thing, amongst the very worst things that Harry could think of. But she was also holding him so close, so tenderly, that there was good with the grief. It was like the sort of nonsensical paradoxes that Neville and Ron tended to laugh about when trying to decode the messages in tea leaves for their Divination homework.
"I'm sorry," Harry muttered uncertainly. He decided to pat Hermione's hair with equal doubt that it was the right way to go. "Er, don't cry … I'm sure everything will be fine."
"Oh, I'm not upset about that," Hermione sniffed, moving away and drying her eyes. "I'm just so happy to have your support for what I did. I thought you might think I was unspeakably cold for making such a heartless choice. But to hear you say what you did … oh, Harry, I wish you'd been with me this last month. It's selfish of me … and I seem to be growing into quite a selfish creature lately … but it would have been such a comfort to have your shoulder to cry on when things got to their worst. I hope you wouldn't have minded."
"Of course I wouldn't have!" Harry cried, supportively. "I should have come, should have made my parents bring me to you. I'm so sorry I didn't … I believed Sirius far too easily."
"And I expect you to give him a proper row for it when you see him!" Hermione quipped, her mood rising to playfulness again. "I've told him to expect one, so I hope you've started work on it. Now I'm back, we can work on it together!"
"You're going to have enough work to be getting on with," Harry grinned, somewhat cryptically. "But if you ever catch up, I'll happily work on a suitably cutting reprimand for my Godfather with you!"
"Oh, I know," Hermione nodded vehemently. "Two full weeks of school missed … I have no idea how I'm supposed to get up to speed."
"Oh, I think you'll get up to speed," Harry continued in his earlier vain. "I don't know when you'll sleep, but you'll probably find a way."
"How?" Hermione asked, narrowing her eyes suspiciously. "What have you been doing that you aren't telling me?"
"I've been going to your lessons for you," Harry told her, brightly. "My Auntie Min gave me a cool little device called a time-turner … which literally does what it says on the tin and turns time … and I've been using it to go to your classes and record the memories of them. I've got them stored in a little box of crystal vials in Auntie Min's office, for you to view in her Pensieve once you get round to that. It's been really hard to avoid myself when I go back in time, and I'm sure Marici has spotted herself at least once, but we know what's going on so I think it's okay.
"It's actually a good laugh, all this time-travel malarkey. When we beat Slytherin at Quidditch next month, I think I might go back in time and watch the match from the stands … as I've never seen myself play before, and I think I'd enjoy reliving my triumphs! How vain is that!"
Harry chuckled away at himself, but then he stopped cautiously. For Hermione was looking at him in such a tender way that Harry wanted to call it something like reverently … maybe even adoringly. But such a thought was liable to cause his head to fall off, so he reluctantly pushed it out of his ear.
"What?" Harry asked. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
"You … you've been doing all that? F-for … for me?" Hermione hushed out.
Harry felt his flush return with aplomb. He rubbed the back of his neck in itchy awkwardness. "Well, yeah. Auntie Min asked me to, and we didn't want you to fall too far behind, so I thought I better had do it. I don't mind, honest. It wasn't so bad, and Arithmancy is a really good class. I think you'll really enjoy it when you get there. Homework looks complicated, mind. Glad I didn't have to do that bit!"
"I … I don't know what to say to this," Hermione murmured. "Thank you, Harry. That's just the sweetest, most considerate thing. Thank you."
"Any time," Harry smiled back. "I'd be a pretty shoddy best friend if I didn't help you out when you needed me, wouldn't I?"
"I think I might always need you, Harry," Hermione shyly started to say, then she checked herself as colour inflamed her cheeks. "So I hope you don't plan on going anywhere anytime soon."
"Nope, just back to the castle," Harry grinned. "I don't know about you, but I'm starving."
But when they got back to the school, however, they found that they had completely lost track of time and that breakfast was long finished. Not only that, but Harry had missed the entire of his first lesson of the day. He wasn't at all worried about that … he'd just flick out his trusty time-turner and hop back an hour or two. He was just about to reach into his robes, when Neville emerged from the top of the main staircase on his way to the Herbology greenhouses. When he saw Harry, all colour drained from his face.
"Nev? You okay?" Harry asked in concern. "You look like you've seen a ghost!"
"I sort of have … or maybe a dead man walking might be a better way to put it," Neville replied, fretfully. "Oh, and welcome back, Hermione."
"Thanks, Neville," Hermione frowned. "But what do you mean about Harry being a dead man walking, as I'm assuming you are talking about him?"
Neville nodded. "Well, we've just had Divination, and Professor Trelawney was looking at crystal balls today and she saw a Grim - that's a serious Death Omen if you didn't know - connected to Hogwarts and one of its students … a student that she says will die this year.
"To tell the truth, Harry, that student was you … she saw your death … and the whole school will be talking about it by lunchtime."
