The Hogwarts Express finally puffed out her brakes with a billow of smoke and the satisfying grind of steel-on-steel, as the scarlet locomotive slowed for the gentle trundle into the private, hidden platform of Kings Cross Station. Right now, hundreds of excited students were waiting to greet their equally fervoured parents, swapping last minute stories of holiday plans, and Christmas present hopes, all trying to outdo their fellows in terms of stirring expectations for the near month away from school.

For Harry, it was something of a bittersweet feeling that filled him up as the train idled on it's way into the station. He was keen to see his parents again, spend a few weeks with them and Sirius. He was really looking forward to telling them all about his first term at Hogwarts. Even Minerva's threat of extra homework for him hadn't dampened his enthusiasm for the festive period.

But there was something niggling at the corners of his mind. It was a curious little sensation, like he'd left something back at Hogwarts that he'd sorely miss, but he couldn't put his finger on what it might be. He'd packed his travel bag carefully, made certain to bring his wand and the Invisibility Cloak home with him. He didn't need to bring magical toys, like Wizards Chess and Gobstones, as he had his own sets back in London.

So just what was he going to regret being without for the next month?

Harry decided to try and put it from his mind, hope that maybe it would spring on him if he wasn't trying so hard to pin it down, like it was some playful, elusive spirit. He focused on Hermione instead, which was always a pleasant pastime, as she gathered her scattered belongings from around the compartment they'd had to themselves for the entire journey home.

"Are you looking forward to seeing your parents again?" Harry asked breezily, noticing Hermione poking her tongue out in that cute way she always did when she was concentrating, as she tied her shoelaces into neat, even bows.

She picked at her fingernails and avoided Harry's eye. "I'm not going to see my parents, remember?"

Harry's face fell. "Oh, yeah. Hermione - I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say that."

"You did, but it's okay," Hermione smiled weakly. "I know what you really meant."

Then a realisation hit Harry, hit him hard in the gut. And he felt the worst kind of insensitive wart just then.

"You miss them, don't you?" he asked gently, ashamed of his denseness. "Your real parents, I mean?"

Hermione kept her eyes pinned to her lap. "Wouldn't you, if you were me?"

Of course he would, but Harry had been too busy revelling in the excitement of seeing his own parents again to spare a feeling for his best friend being so far removed from hers. He felt a sorry excuse for his half of that relationship just now.

"And, I suppose, everyone being so high-spirited must have just made things worse for you?" Harry offered quietly. "Knowing you wouldn't be seeing your family this Christmas?"

Hermione nodded briefly again.

"And here's me, being a total arse-donkey about the whole thing," Harry moaned miserably. "Going on about how I'm going to thrash my Dad at chess and battleships, and telling my Mum all about my adventures at school so far ... and about decorating my Godfather in tinsel, when he passes out from too much Firewhiskey. I'm sorry, Hermione. I've been so thoughtless."

Hermione gave him a comforting half-grin. "It's okay. It had to happen sometime. You'd be abnormal to be so considerate all of the time!"

"It is not okay," Harry huffed. "I'll make it up to you, I promise. After the holidays, I'll be extra nice to you. I don't know how, but I'll think of something. There'll probably be a lot of bribery involved! I have a whole month to think about it! Four entire weeks ... twenty-eight days ..."

And there it was.

Harry realised, with a shuddering jolt, just what it was that he would miss from Hogwarts. His voice tailed off as the understanding settled like sludge on his heart, and he felt yet more miserable still, even more than he had for not caring enough about Hermione being separated from her parents by an entire plane of existence!

"I-is there no way you can contact them?" Harry asked, his voice a sad but oddly high-octave tone. "Just to say Merry Christmas?"

Hermione shook her head. "I don't see how. It took months to reach here from my world. It would take weeks just to get back to the portal in the far North, let alone the rest of it. That's not to mention all the dangers lurking out there. No, this Christmas I'm going to just have to do without Mum and Dad."

Hermione picked at one of her curliest strands of hair and gazed out of the window with a flat, rueful little shrug. Harry felt the strongest urge to do something, but he had no idea what. So he just stayed still and waited until he thought Hermione's moment of melancholy had passed.

"It's funny, really, that you even have Christmas there," Harry mused after an awkward minute or two.

"The religion crosses the boundaries of worlds," Hermione explained. "Lyra told me once that she was involved in a massive war, one that tried to kill God. The Christian religion crosses into at least our two worlds, though it is much more powerful and controlling in mine. They are really scary there."

Harry shifted awkwardly. He didn't like the idea of Hermione being afraid of anything, but this subject clearly stirred frightful memories for her.

"Which world do you prefer, then?" Harry asked. "You've never said."

"This one, I think," Hermione replied quickly, glancing up at Harry as her cheeks tinted pink. Harry felt something move in his chest at the look Hermione was giving him and the train compartment felt awfully hot all of a sudden. It was like a freak, unseasonal heatwave had abruptly struck him. "But I'd like my parents to be here with me, even though I know that's not possible. It's just because it's this time of the year, a time for families, you know? I'd like to be going home to mine, like everyone else, but I'll be alright. I like Lyra and Mal very much ... but it's not the same."

"No, I can see how it wouldn't be," Harry nodded sagely. "I wish I could help."

"You can," Hermione chirped brightly. "You can write to me, like you promised. I may not have my real family, but at least I have my real best friend. That will be enough for me. So don't let me down!"

Just then the train came to a complete stop. Harry got up very slowly, as though trying to eek out these final few minutes with Hermione. A part of his brain was telling him that this was really quite stupid, that he'd see her again soon enough and that he should stop being so peculiar about the whole thing in the first place.

Then there was another part of his brain that was telling the first part to shut up and keep its opinions to itself. It was all very confusing.

There was some heaving of bags and jostling with the clamour of students clambering to disembark, during which time Hermione got buffeted into Harry's chest on more than one occasion, sending some dormant butterflies to flight in his stomach - that Harry didn't remember swallowing at all - and then they were on the platform.

Harry watched as Draco Malfoy was engulfed by his haughty mother and father - who seemed to be having a Who-Can-Grow-The-Longest/Blondest-Hair contest - and as Ron Weasley was clobbered in a one-handed bear hug by his mother. She had a half-eaten sausage roll in the other hand. Harry idly wondered if she'd caught up with Sirius yet, and truly hoped she hadn't sent any more personal mail to their flat in London ...

"So how are you getting home?" Hermione asked, as they joined the queue to head back through the magical barrier to Kings Cross.

"Tube, probably, that's how me and Sirius came up here in September," Harry babbled happily. "The Victoria Line goes right to the Embankment. Our flat isn't far from the Underground station there."

"Funny. That's where Lyra's flat was," Hermione mentioned curiously. "In our London, you know."

Harry suddenly pricked his ears up a bit. "Then ... you know the area?"

"A little. I mean, London looks pretty much the same in any world, I imagine."

"Mmm," Harry agreed. "So if, say, Lyra brought you Christmas shopping or something, you'd know where Westminster Bridge was?"

"Oh, I already know where that is," Hermione chimed brightly. "Who doesn't? Why does that matter, though?"

"Oh it doesn't, it doesn't," Harry blurted out quickly, though his mind was racing a mile-a-minute at the possibilities this new bit of knowledge threw up. "Just asking, that's all."

"Come on not-lovebirds," Neville teased from behind them. "You're holding up the line!"

"Shut up, Neville!" Harry retorted, blushing furiously.

But he was right, so Hermione - who was grinning to herself about something - pushed through the barrier and out of sight. Harry hurried through in her wake.

"It's the cold, that's all," Harry frowned as he met up with Sirius on the other side, who immediately asked why Harry was so red in the face.

"If you say so," Sirius replied, unconvinced. "Anyway, I brought some stragglers for the journey home. Hope you don't mind."

Harry looked over Sirius' shoulder ... and immediately his face cracked into the broadest grin.

"Mum! Dad!" Harry cried, before being transferred from one embrace to the other. "What are you doing out here? You'll be seen ... again!"

"I think our Secrecy Ship has sailed!" James chuckled. He nodded at some hidden Daily Prophet cameramen lurking behind an advertising hoarding just to their left. "Besides, we wear enough disguises for our work. I've had my fill of sticking fake beards on! I'll be mistaken for Father Christmas at this rate!"

"So, tell us about your term," Lily took over, drawing Harry to her side.

"Oh, there'll be plenty of time for all that," Sirius cut in brusquely. "I want to get away from here quick, before this magical cold Harry was telling me about follows him through the barrier and freezes us all!"

Sirius exchanged a twinkling smirk with James, and nodded over to where Hermione was being greeted by Lyra and Mal nearby.

"Don't you want to say goodbye?" James teased, as Harry scowled at the silliness of the men in his life.

Actually, Harry didn't want to say goodbye to Hermione. On a list of Things Harry Didn't Want To Do, it was pretty much numbers one, two and three.

"We already did that on the platform," Harry huffed back. "Come on. Let's get going. I want to get started on my advent calender chocolates!"

Harry cast one last look at Hermione, who gave him a meek little wave as she caught his eye. He returned it and watched as Lyra guided her away from the station and into Mal's waiting car. Harry followed the silver Mondeo until it was just a dot in the snaking queue of traffic.

Then they were gone from sight completely. Harry sighed and felt the loss. It was a whole new kind of unhappiness ... but at least they hadn't said goodbye.

"Now, just relax your mind, focus on the energies in front of you. When one sticks out, just follow it."

Harry frowned. The blindfold stretched tight across his forehead was starting to get itchy. And how was he supposed to perform this task his mother was setting him? Feel energies? Follow them? It sounded like wishy-washy nonsense and not at all like the magic they'd been learning at Hogwarts.

Harry didn't think Hermione would approve of this at all. It was a bit too much like fortune-telling, and that was a very imprecise branch of magic she'd told him once.

"I can't do this, Mum," Harry moaned. "I cant feel anything, apart from this scratchy cloth over my eyes."

"You aren't trying hard enough," Lily told him sternly. "I can hear your mind whirring away, complaining about this."

"You can? I didn't know you were psychic, Mum."

"Dont be flippant," Lily returned. "If you don't get this right, that Christmas Eve calender door stays firmly shut. And it has the best chocolate yet. Liquid caramel centred. Delicious."

That did sound good. Harry's sweet tooth implored him to concentrate that little bit more. So he huffed in another deep breath like his mother had told him, and primed his mind on that one thought, blocking all others out. After a few more breaths Harry felt his mind go still, almost numb, as if floating around in his skull. He thought about caramel, the golden nectar flowing around his mouth.

Then, bizarrely, an idea of Hermione came to him. He often thought of her voice as a little bit like nectar. He liked listening to her talk, and it didn't much matter what it was about. It could have been when they were wondering if Pince the Librarian and Filch the Caretaker were having a secret, abominable love affair; or when Hermione was making terrible jokey observations about how Professor Flitwick's ugly goblin mother must have seduced his wizard father; or when she was simply reciting the correct brewing schedule and ingredients for a Blackhead Banishing Potion. There was just something flowing and lyrical about her tone that threatened to render Harry inert if he relaxed into the sound too much.

"That's it!" Lily whispered eagerly. "Follow that energy. Let it guide your wand."

So Harry did. Weirdly, his wand wanted to go a little bit to the right. Why there, who could tell? Harry certainly didn't, but he obeyed the instinct just the same. His wand was drawn like a magnet to a very specific spot. The pull was intensely strong at this point.

"Now, picture the energy in your mind," Minerva whispered from behind Harry. "And draw what you see into the clay before you."

Harry didn't see the energy. Or did he? There was something ... more like a couple of slashes or marks. It wasn't a picture as such, but it was something.

So he drew. One long, vertical line, then another, cutting down at an angle from left to right. Harry opened his eyes.

"Which rune is that?" Lily quizzed.

"Nauthiz," Harry answered correctly, looking over at the rune stones arranged to his right. The new set he'd received from Hermione as a Christmas present. "It means need and necessity, but also absence and restriction."

"And to have patience," James grinned knowingly from over near the fireplace. "No need to guess why you drew that particular rune!"

"James, don't tease," Lily shot warningly. Harry was thankful for his mother's diligence in looking after him, for he was growing very cross at the continual asides from his father regarding Harry's 'absent friend'. It was getting a very tiresome line of taunting.

Lily, at least, seemed less interested in talking about Hermione Granger at all hours of the day. In fact, it was almost as if she wanted to actively avoid the subject.

But this was one time when Lily decided to make an exception to that rule.

"Were you, Harry? Were you thinking about Hermione?"

Harry blushed. He didn't want to confess that he had, and that he'd been comparing her to sweet honey nectar, either. It didn't seem the kind of thing a boy told to his mother.

But he couldn't lie to her, not when she was looking at him so intently. So he merely nodded. "I was just wondering how she is. Christmas is going to be quite lonely for her. She misses her parents, you know."

"I bet she does, poor lamb," Sirius chipped in from over by the kitchen, where he was preparing a festive cocktail for himself. "If only we hadn't destroyed the Veil Arch at the Ministry ... I might have been able to take her home for a day or so. Perhaps the portal still works, without the arch. I could ask around."

"No! Don't!" Harry cried animatedly. "Hermione said there are all sorts of dangers waiting in that world for her. It's not safe to go back there just now."

"She told you that?" Sirius queried. "What did she say, exactly?"

"Oh, nothing specific," Harry replied. "Just that the Church are really powerful there. And they persecute the occult, and people who practise it. I'm sure a child-witch would be a ripe target for those people. No, she's safer here. Leave her be, please?"

"Alright, Harry," Sirius promised faithfully. "But if the Magisterium are really that interested in her, we need to take precautions here, too."

Harry felt a sort of cold dread fall onto his shoulders. "Here? How can they be here?"

The adults in the room all exchanged dark looks. Harry scowled as he interpreted the loaded meanings passing between them.

"You know?" Harry hissed at his father. "About that world? About the dangers it poses to Hermione?"

James nodded firmly. "From what Sirius told us about it," he explained. "We've been trying to get up to speed."

"And Lyra and Malcolm have been helping us," Lily added bluntly. "We've met them several times now."

Harry gasped aloud. "You've met Hermione's guardians? Why didn't you tell me?"

"We didn't want to distract you from your studies," Lily answered plainly. "Or Hermione from hers. You two seem joined at the hip enough as it is. This is something for us adults to deal with, not for you to worry about."

"My best friend is in danger!" Harry shrieked. "Of course I'm going to worry about it! But I might not have worried so much if I knew you were taking care of it."

"We are taking care of it," James assured him.

"And Lyra is helping us," Sirius added. "As soon as we convinced her not to garotte me on sight, she came right around!"

Harry was disarmed by Sirius' jokey expression. He was a sucker for it.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, let's just say that Lyra and I have a ... well ... interesting past."

Harry blinked as he tried to absorb that. "You ... know Lyra?"

Sirius grinned down at him. "I do. Quite intimately, actually. Or her intimate parts, at least."

"Eww, minging!" Harry retorted, heaving at the notion. "But how? And I mean, how did you meet her? Keep your sordid stories to yourself."

"When I followed Tom Riddle into that world," Sirius explained, sitting and crossing one knee over the other. "I was injured and a witch-clan took me in, nursed me to health. But I was there so long that my own dæmon started to fight to get out of me. To become like Papageno is to Hermione. It was quite a breathtakingly uncomfortable process. But witches in that world do it all the time.

"What they needed was a human who could understand me better. Luckily, Lyra is a famous personality in that world. She'd Separated from her dæmon - meaning they can go great distances from each other. Normally a human and dæmon cant go more than a few feet from each other before it becomes excruciatingly painful for both.

"So Lyra came to meet me, then agreed to show me around her world, for I was fascinated by it and in no hurry to return home. Besides, Lyra Belacqua is a beautiful and passionate woman, and we shared an instant attraction to explore that passion."

"Sirius, tread carefully," Lily warned.

"Sorry, Lil," Sirius grinned at her. "Anyway, Lyra and I were lovers for the several years I stayed in that world. Then she helped me when I decided to return home."

"What your Godfather is not telling you," Lily went on with a frown. "Is that he is a despicable sort of charlatan, who had a string of intimate liaisons with other women -"

"- and witches. Don't forget the witches," Sirius grinned, tilting his glass at Lily in a sort of salute, which she didn't appreciate - if her frown was any indication.

"- all while still in a relationship with Lyra."

"You didn't!" Harry gasped in shock.

"Guilty as charged," Sirius answered in defeat.

"No wonder she's mad at you," Harry mused. "And she looked quite fierce."

"Oh she is, she's like a wildcat that one," Sirius nodded, winking at James. "But what your Mum is leaving out of this character assassination is that Lyra was just as bad as me, and I knew she was up to no good! She just didn't like that I could give as good as she did in that department!"

Harry smirked in spite of himself. "What was it like when she met you again? I wish I'd seen it."

"It was an epic spectacle," Sirius agreed with a beaming grin. "She might have eaten me alive if it wasn't for Dumbledore casting a spell at her!"

"Oh dear! She cant have liked that."

"No, she didn't," Sirius confirmed. "But it was probably because the last time Petrificus Totalus was used on her it was for a very different reason ... one she made me do again when we met up a few days later. Poor Pan ... the sights that little creature has been forced to see ..."

"Pan?

"Pantalaimon," Sirius explained. "Lyra's dæmon. Poor little bloke."

Then a thought occurred to Harry. "So, when you were intimate with Lyra ... did you touch Pantalaimon?"

Sirius smiled secretly, understanding immediately what Harry was getting at. "Only once, when I didn't know how forbidden it was, how taboo. Lyra never lets anyone that close to her. Touching Pan was strictly out of the question."

"Oh..." Harry hushed, his eyes wide as his gulping throat. He couldn't even begin to imagine what that meant ... about the way he and Papageno were so familiar ... about why Hermione not only permitted it, but liked it.

Harry didn't understand it at all ... but right at that moment he wondered what it would be like for Hermione to touch his dæmon, whatever form it might be. He rather thought he might like her to, just to see what it felt like. It would be nice, he thought. It didn't make sense to him that it wouldn't, but he'd still like to try it, just to see.

"So, that's how Sirius knows Lyra," Lily went on, dragging the conversation back around. "But back to the rest of the situation, yes we've met her and Malcolm, Hermione's other guardian. And they've been investigating just how deeply the forces from their world are entrenched here."

"And it seems they have roots here quite as deep as in their own world," James went on.

"How so?" asked Harry. "And how are they threatening Hermione?"

"Lyra and her alethiometer aren't the only ones who know about the connection you and Hermione share," Sirius continued.

"Alethiometer?"

"A truth reader," Sirius clarified. "That was the device that told Hermione she needed to come here to find and help you. But the Magisterium has them too, and Tom Riddle was told about what Hermione was trying to do."

"But why? Why would such a device help someone like Riddle?" Harry fumed.

"The truth is impartial, Harry," James took over. "Riddle was always likely to try and return if he survived. And the prophecy that predicted his downfall is still valid. The truth reader just told him what he wanted to know, no matter how angry it might have made him to hear."

"And he is even more likely than ever to believe that you will be the one to vanquish him," Sirius told him seriously. "He considers you a mortal enemy at this point. One who possesses a power that he has never encountered before and doesn't understand ... one that Hermione seems to have the ability to cultivate in you. She is the one with the real power ... because it will ignite whatever it is inside you."

"So, as long as she is around to improve you ... " James finished for Sirius.

"Riddle will try and target her," Harry understood darkly. He looked stolidly at each of them in turn. "Tell me what I have to do."

"Concentrate," Lily replied gently, but determinedly. "Let the power of the runes flow through you, infuse you. This is an ancient form of magic, one deeply rooted and powerful. It might come in handy when you need it the most."

Harry drew his wand and closed his eyes. He would master this if it took all the strength he had.

Mal was cooking on Christmas morning. Hermione was woken by the delicious wafting smell of sizzling bacon, the popping of juicy sausages and the clinking of glass as Lyra and Mal hit the cream liqueur before Hermione was even out of bed. She just lay there awhile and listened to the sounds and smelled the smells, all as she was curled up in her fluffy quilt with her favourite Christmas present bundled between her arms.

Harry's Christmas card. Nothing else came close.

It was brief and sweet. A simple snowy scene, magically set to motion, with just a few lines in Harry's neat script inside.

Merry Christmas. Hope you have a great day! Looking forward to January the Third. See you on the Express. From Harry.

It wasn't a declaration of his undying affection, or wishing they could be together for Christmas, but somehow Hermione saw those sentiments between Harry's lines, from within his actions. For he'd written to her NINE times so far, sometimes not even waiting for a reply before Hedwig turned up again at Hermione's window clutching a scroll and barking for owl treats, which Hermione quickly learned simply had to be the gourmet variety if she didn't want a sharp nip on her fingers.

And Hermione had started to become anxious and impatient as she waited for the latest delivery of Harry Post. It was all Lyra's fault, Hermione had decided, for insisting on late nights of girly pillow talk. She wanted Hermione to go over every detail of every conversation that Hermione and Harry had ever had, to deconstruct them for hidden meanings. And each time Lyra had become more and more playful, declaring that Harry was putty in Hermione's hands already.

And when it came to describing Harry racing bravely to rescue her from the twelve-foot troll, well ... even Pantalaimon swooned at that!

So from that moment on, Harry was in love with Hermione, and Lyra would listen to none of Hermione's sage, sane counter-arguments to the discussion. But with each flimsy denial, Hermione let herself believe it a tiny bit more. So much more that by the time Harry's Christmas card arrived Hermione tore it open with such reckless eagerness that she almost ripped the card itself in half.

And in her fear that she had, she took a moment to take stock of everything, to analyse what she was feeling. It wasn't a sensation she had known before, and it didn't feel like the childish things she knew well. It felt like a grown-up emotion. Something entirely different and a little bit scary, but at the same time insanely comforting and lovely.

A bit like Harry, really.

So she let herself accept it into her being. That she had a monumental crush on her best friend, the friend she was destined to love. Or was it love already, despite how young she still was? She wasn't so sure about that ... at least not until Pap came up to her solemnly one night and all but confirmed it.

"I cant do it anymore, Hermione. It's gone."

"What has?" she asked in concern, for Pap seemed quite distraught.

"I cant change anymore. This is it ... this is what I am. I am Crookshanks! I am a cat."

Hermione grinned at him. "And the fluffiest, prettiest cat you are too!"

And with that she gave him a crunching hug.

"But what does this mean? About us?" Papageno asked in a fraught voice.

"It means that you'll just have to let Harry keep smoothing you now!" Hermione teased with a chuckle.

"You like that far too much, you know," Pap quirked back. "I should have mentioned it before now. You should be ashamed of yourself."

"I should be!" Hermione laughed. "What about you? Jumping into his lap and rubbing up against his legs every five minutes. It's positively brazen!"

"Perhaps," Pap returned haughtily. "But you're just jealous that you cant!"

"I am not!" Hermione protested hotly. "Okay, maybe just a little. But he's so maddeningly warm. I wouldn't have expected him to be. What's that all about?"

"Lyra would say he's hot for you, or some other such gutter nonsense," Pap considered wisely.

"Are you saying he's not?" Hermione asked, honestly a little hurt by the notion.

"Hermione - he's eleven!" Pap reminded her. "I don't think he even knows how to be hot for something."

"But we do ... don't we?" Hermione asked, cripplingly shy all of a sudden.

"Yes, I think we're starting to," Pap nodded. "It's very strange, isn't it?"

"Very," Hermione nodded vigorously. "But sort of nice too."

"And exciting."

"Oh definitely exciting!" Hermione agreed vehemently. "Do you think Harry will ever feel like that about us?"

Hermione blinked her eyes in hope. Pap returned her expression exactly.

"Yes, I think he will. He likes us ever so much. More than he ever is able to say, though sometimes I think he wants to."

"He just doesn't know the right words yet," Hermione nodded in understanding. "I know what you mean. He sort of half-says things. It's really quite cute, I think."

"You think everything about him is cute."

"Well, yes, I really do," Hermione smiled to herself. "I wonder what he thinks about my looks."

"Look at you, getting all vain," Pap quirked with a laugh. "Who would ever have thought it? Hermione Granger ... hoping a boy thinks she's pretty."

Hermione flushed at the light teasing, but she fixed Papageno with a serious stare. "Well ... do you think he does?"

As a dæmon, Papageno knew that there was a time to fun with his human and a time to build them up. This was not a time to play.

"Of course he does," Pap told her confidently. "He's said so lots of times. And then there's the way he looks at you when he thinks you aren't paying attention to him."

"But I'm always paying attention to him," Hermione replied, confused. "Don't I pay him enough attention? And what do you mean the way he looks at me? What way?"

"Like you are the very centre of his world," Pap explained simply, causing Hermione to blush to the roots of her hair. "I don't think he knows he's looking at you like that - or for how long he does it or what it means - but I see it all the time. He can barely take his eyes off you, like he's afraid you'll vanish if he looks away."

Hermione was far too embarrassed by that to continue the conversation. But she barely slept until Harry's next delivery arrived. The card Hermione hadn't let out of her sight and the rather large gift, that was beautifully wrapped in gold and purple paper, that Hermione couldn't wait to open on Christmas morning.

Then she remembered that morning was this morning ...

Hermione leapt out of bed like warm bread from a toaster. She startled poor Pap, who had been cosily nuzzled up at her feet. The cat dæmon hissed and spat at Hermione, but she didn't even spare him an apology as she thundered into the living room and to the large decorated fir in the corner.

"Morning!" she called brightly as she skidded to a halt. "Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas," Mal returned. "Just in time for breakfast. We were starting to think you might never get up!"

"I'm on holiday and it's Christmas," Hermione replied, wrinkling her nose cheekily. "I'm allowed a lie-in if I want one!"

"You tell him, Hermione," Lyra chimed supportively. "We girls need our sleep to face the world with a straight face!"

"I don't even know what that means," Mal frowned, piling bacon and sausages onto a plate as eggs were added to a sizzling frying pan.

"Now I wonder which present Hermione will go for first, Mal?" Lyra quipped lightly. "Ten pounds says it isn't mine."

"Or mine," Mal smirked back. "Or the one from that boy, Neville."

"Neville sent me a Christmas present?" Hermione blurted. "That was nice of him."

"Maybe he has a crush on you," Lyra teased. "A bit of competition, maybe."

Hermione scowled at Lyra, poking her tongue at her Mistress. "Hush, you."

"So, come on then, Hermione, get Harry's present open," Mal told her with a sigh. "The suspense is killing us!"

Hermione beamed at the invitation and hastily tore off the wrapping paper. Then she burst into a peel of laughter. For there, inside, was a sleek black case with the words Broomstick Servicing Kit stamped in silver lettering. Next to that there was badge and framed certificate that marked Hermione joining the Seven Foot High-Fliers Club, a feat she'd achieved on their last day of school.

There was also a little note.

Merry Christmas, Hermione.

I hope you like your present and see the funny side of it. I couldn't resist as soon as I saw it. The Kit is actually really good and I'm sure you'll get some actual use from it, maybe even learn to fly 'properly' one day! When you do, I'll buy you your own racing broom!

The badge was my idea and it works like a compass. As you are my 'guide on this long journey' (you know what I mean) I thought it might be handy to keep us heading in the right direction.

Hope you have a great Christmas and eat lots of sweets and cake and get all the presents you wanted. You deserve them.

See you soon.

From Harry

Hermione could barely keep her thoughts steady in her wobbly head as she read and read Harry's words. A guide on a long journey. What did he mean by that? Well, Hermione knew what he meant, but what if he really meant something else? The other journey she was hoping he might want to go on with her. It stirred the wildest thoughts in her mind as she tried to process them all at once.

But as she went to ask Lyra about it there was a knock on the door.

Lyra looked up suspiciously. "Are you expecting anyone?"

"No," Mal returned seriously, reaching for his pistol from inside a drawer in the kitchen. He crossed to the door and peered through the spyhole he'd installed. Then he slid the gun into the belt of his trousers and hid it with his shirt. He turned back to the others with a wry grin. "We have guests."

Then Mal opened the door. Hermione blinked hard, and her heart did a great leap, as she clocked the visitors crossing the threshold.

"Harry?" Hermione blurted, as though unable to believe she was looking at the boy who had just sent her insides to tremulous flutters. She was still holding the little note in her shaky hands.

"Sirius! James ... Lily," Lyra exclaimed, getting up and greeting the arrivals. "What are you doing here? What's wrong?"

"Nothing, Lyra, be calm," Sirius cajoled her. "Pan, be a good dæmon and reign your human in, will you? We were just about to settle for a hearty breakfast when we suddenly realised that it was Christmas Day and a time for families. And for good friends, too."

"And we just happened to have a desolate half of a best friendship moping around our flat all morning," James quirked, throwing off his coat. "He was ruining the mood. And we thought you might have been suffering something similar."

"So here we are to help," Lily completed with a little smile at Hermione. "But this half doesn't seem quite so depressed."

Hermione shot a pained look at Harry, her pulse speeding both at the sight of him and the idea that he had been so unhappy ... and that it might have been because he was away from her.

That was an entirely new sensation for her to deal with later.

"I was not depressed!" Harry protested hotly. He turned to Hermione. "I wasn't, honest."

"I believe you," Hermione grinned.

"Well I see you weren't either, Hermione," Sirius quirked, taking a seat near Lyra, who blushed herself as their thighs touched.

"Don't let looks deceive you," Malcolm offered, reprising his wry grin. "This is the happiest our Hermione has been for at least a week. And that's only because she just opened Harry's present."

Harry's face lit up. "Ooh, did you really? Do you like it?"

"I love it!" Hermione beamed back. "When we're back at school you'll have to help me use it. I literally have no idea how to polish a broomstick."

James spat out a mouthful of the tea Mal had just handed him and Lily sounded like she'd choked on her own tongue. Hermione looked quizzically at them.

"What? Was it something I said?"

"Oh, oh no, honey," Lily tried to pacify. "I think I swallowed a fly or something."

"And this tea is very hot," James added hastily. "Earl grey though, nice choice."

"It's all Hermione will drink," Mal informed them, causing Harry to feel his brain filing that detail under the Important Information About What Hermione Likes section of his cerebral cortex.

"You know, Malcolm, that breakfast smells delightful," Sirius announced. "How about we expand it a bit?"

With a grin and flick of his wand, Sirius literally trebled the size of the breakfast platter Malcolm had prepared. Now there was enough for everyone and then some. So all seven of them grabbed plates and sat down for a thoroughly pleasant morning. With everyone in one place it was a time for truths and tales of adventures. Lyra was the most active, telling practically her entire life story and instantly becoming Harry's new hero.

Well, most of the truths were told. Hermione ate in subdued silence, still trying to process her rampaging thoughts and trying not to focus on Harry and how close he was sitting to her. She kept looking at Sirius and Lyra and how close they were. They were in almost constant contact and Hermione suddenly realised that she hadn't been dreaming when she thought she saw Sirius leaving their flat early the other morning.

She would definitely be teasing Lyra about that when she got the chance!

But Harry was an inch away from doing the same as Sirius was to Lyra. And Hermione was hugely frustrated by that fact. It might have been a chasm of a thousand miles for how difficult that distance seemed for Hermione to cross. But she didn't dare, had nothing like that kind of courage.

Then Papageno simply trotted over and jumped into Harry's lap, causing Lyra and Mal to stare in utter, gobsmacked surprise.

Not that Harry saw that. He was looking only at Hermione, his hand poised over Papageno as he padded around on Harry's thighs.

"Is this okay?" Harry asked quietly, waiting for permission to proceed.

"Uh-hem," Hermione managed to say with a tiny nod. It was all she was capable of. The anticipation of feeling Harry's touch on her dæmon was enough to send her distracted.

And when he finally did it sent a wave of hot senselessness sweeping all through her. Lyra was looking pointedly at her, trying to catch her eye, but Hermione looked resolutely at anything but her Mistress. She didn't know quite what this was that she was feeling, but she was reasonably sure she was quickly becoming addicted to it.

One thing was for sure ... Lyra and Hermione's 'girly chat' that night would be incredibly interesting!

After breakfast, Hermione dragged Harry out to show him the sights of snowy Oxford. She was getting to do this much sooner than she'd planned, but it was a chance she wasn't going to let pass her by. In any case, she was just dying for some fresh air! She showed Harry to her favourite ornate colleges, marvelled at the spires of the tall buildings, and made snow-angels in the drifts outside the Ashmolean Museum.

It was as they were walking along one of the canal routes that things took a turn.

Harry felt it as a sort of tug in the back of his mind, as though hearing a whisper in the wind. He turned to Hermione as his skin tightened and crept in alternating waves.

"Did you hear that?" Harry asked.

"Hear what?" Hermione replied, immediately concerned by the look in Harry's eyes.

"It might be nothing," Harry tried to backtrack. "Just me being weird."

"You're not weird, not when you're like this," Hermione insisted. "Tell me what you heard. It's me ... you know I wont laugh at you or anything."

Harry smiled shyly at her. "I know. It's just that I heard - or I thought I heard - a voice somewhere. Somewhere close."

"A voice? What kind of voice?"

"Sharp, icy. It wasn't a voice, even. More of a -"

Hiss!

Harry jumped back at the sound, just as the most enormous snake leapt out from a bush on the towpath and snapped angrily at his heels. He tripped and toppled over into the canal, just managing to grab onto the kerb ridge at the side of the path. The cold water hit Harry with the most breathtaking shock, but that was nothing to compare to the terror of what Harry saw next.

The snake was attacking Hermione!

The giant serpent coiled and uncoiled in rapid, menacing fashion as Hermione fumbled for her wand. But the thick, woollen mittens she was wearing were making it impossible to reach inside her coat. And then ...

"Ow!"

The thick tail of the snake reared around and clobbered Hermione firmly in the chest, winding her and knocking her to the ground. And the snake slithered ominously towards her. Harry, blood pounding in his ears, hauled himself up from the freezing water and darted towards the snake, with literally no idea what he was going to do when he got there.

Papageno suddenly darted out from under Hermione and spat angrily at the snake, but he was swatted aside by the massive tail, smashing into the towpath wall with a sickening thud. Harry saw Hermione's eyes roll back into her head as the impact battered into her, too. Then the snake snapped viciously at Hermione, who kicked her feet feebly in terrified but futile defence.

And she was so drained by the assault on Pap that she had almost nothing left to resist with.

Something rose in Harry, something so fierce and unyielding that he would later be afraid of just how feral and animalistic it made him feel.

"No! Face me!" Harry hissed angrily.

Hissed ... quite literally.

Harry was as surprised as anyone at the strange sounds that had come from his mouth. But as he faced up to the giant serpent, it had just happened. As though he were remembering how to speak a language he'd inexplicably forgotten. Not that he had much time to consider the insanity of that.

For the snake had followed Harry's command. It had abandoned its attack on Hermione, and was now fronting up to Harry instead. It uncoiled menacingly, rising up to look Harry directly in the face. They locked eyes, the beady pupils of the snake flicking in and out of the scaly hoods that covered them. Harry was borderline hypnotised by them, but not enough to lose his focus.

For though the head of the snake was practically nose-to-nose with him, the thick tail was inching away towards Hermione, almost out of Harry's sight.

Almost.

"No, you coward! Face me!" Harry shrieked again.

The snake seemed to look tauntingly at Harry, then lunged at Hermione again.

Then, quite on instinct, Harry brandished his wand. He whipped it expertly in a series of quick actions, making a sort of crooked 'Z' shape in the space between Hermione and the snake. It hung there like a glowing, purple shield.

"Eihwaz!" Hermione cried in astonishment ... and the snake was repelled with some force right back to Harry's feet, as it hit the strange, hovering symbol when it moved on Hermione once more.

But Harry's wand was flicking again. He struck it in three rapid slashes, burning a lightning-shape of angry red flame into the very air between himself and the snake. Then he pushed this shape right into the dense flesh of the ready-to-strike serpent.

And its piercing hiss of agony was matched in intensity only by the searing heat of the flame that had scorched its scales.

"Harry!"

Hermione's scream of terror jerked Harry back from the inertia of his surprise, that his attack on the snake had been so successful. The serpent reeled away to coil again nearby, nursing the jagged branding standing out pale and raw on its burnt green flesh. Harry ignored that and sprinted to Hermione's side, grabbing her outstretched hand - that was ready and waiting for him - and dragging her back to her feet. Her wand was pointing over Harry's shoulder, fixed shakily on their slithering foe.

"Harry! What was that?" Hermione panted. "That was incredible. I could feel the power of the spell from over here! What did you do?"

"Runic spell casting," came the high-pitched reply from behind them. "Very impressive ... Harry Potter."

Harry span, icy fear trickling through his veins. His breath caught on the way out of his lungs, encircling his thudding heart. The voice was just that cold and callous. Harry found himself looking not at the snake, but at a cloudy, smoky form of a man. He had never seen him in person before, but he was utterly certain who he was looking at.

And Hermione confirmed it a second later.

"Dr Thomas Riddle!"

Harry's stomach seemed to lose its bottom. Harry moved to stand in front of Hermione, pushing her back away from the advancing spectre of Lord Voldemort.

"You remember me, Miss Granger," Riddle replied delicately, his voice distant and ethereal, as if he was speaking from a whole world away. "I am touched. Harry, here, probably doesn't. He likely cant recall my face, my voice ... but he must recognise the feel of my power. After all, how else could he have spoken to my snake form?"

"That was a language?" Harry hushed in shock. "I can ... speak to snakes?"

"As can I," Riddle smiled creepily. "Perhaps one day we will have a discussion all about it. But first things first, I want an answer to Miss Granger's question ... who did teach you to runic spell cast like that?"

"We did."

Harry span around again, and a sort of electric charge shot through every single particle of him. For there, ranged behind Hermione were Sirius and Lyra and Mal, while Pantalaimon helped an awake again Papageno to gingerly trot back to a position of safety. And, stood protectively either side of Harry's best friend were Lily and James, eyes wide and expressions furious, wands drawn and pumping with their combined power. It was so potent Harry felt the hair prickle on the back of his neck as it swirled around him. He'd never seen his parents so charged and ready, so serious and intent.

And the others were a fierce mirror of the primed Potters. Sirius was growling from deep within his throat, struggling to keep his hair from turning into the matted fur of his rabid dog Animagus form. Lyra seemed to be holding him back, the crooked elbow of her gun-wielding arm blocking him from springing forward. Mal, too, had his long-barrelled rifle fixed on the image of Thomas Riddle before them, while at his feet Pap was now spitting viciously as Pan circled above and screeched the battle cry of a hungry predator.

Riddle appeared to know he was outmatched. With another snarl-like grin he faced each member of the crowd in turn, letting his eyes fall on Harry's mother last. He left his most vicious expression for her, it would seem.

"Remember my last, Lily."

And with a snap there was blinding flash of light, and both snake and man were gone.

"He's only a street away!" Pantalaimon called from high above.

"He must be more injured than we thought," James cried, thumping Harry proudly on the shoulder. "Good work, son!"

"This isn't over!" Lily shrieked. "We cant let him escape."

And she was off, running full pelt as Pan shouted down directions from overhead. Harry was in his mother's slipstream now, energised and emboldened by the adrenaline coursing through all of them. They dashed through street after street in pursuit of Riddle, who was slithering as far as he could, before Apparating the short distances he could manage.

Then Pan cried down animatedly.

"He's heading into that church ... we have him trapped!"

Lily and James put on another spurt of speed as they rounded the last corner ... but Malcolm was shouting at them from behind.

"Be careful! If he's gone into a church ..."

And it was Sirius who realised the ambush first.

"Protego!" he screamed, flicking his wand just in time ... just as the first bullets shot out of the vestibule doors towards them.

They pinged harmlessly off the magical shield and away to safety. Lily dived on Harry and pulled him behind the low wall of a nearby garden, while James pinned Hermione in place behind a parked transit van. Lyra fired off several rounds from her gun, while Mal took aim at a sniper on the roof.

"Who is this?" James called to Sirius, who was crouched behind a battered Ford Anglia parked nearby.

"The Magisterium," Sirius shouted back. "The religious power from Lyra's world. I had no idea they had any presence here."

"That's what we've been trying to tell you!" Lyra raged over the crackle of more gunfire. "If only your massive ego didn't get in the way of everything ..."

"Lyra? Is that you?"

Silence fell in an instant. Harry managed to get a look at Lyra ... who had lost all colour from her face as the voice from the churchyard echoed over their heads. She stood, looking shakily over the bonnet of the car she was shielding herself behind. Harry couldn't put a name to the confused, angry, scared expression on her face. It was everything all at once.

Then she spoke ... and it was a tone equally as unreadable.

"Will?"