Disclaimers: Dark themes, police state ideas, mention of spousal abuse (including rape) on and off-screen, death of minor characters, graphic imagery and violence, frank sex discussion, copious bad language, villainising the Weasleys and Dumbledore, liberties taken with mythical history and the HP real-life timeline.

"You're going to have to explain this one to me, Min, because I totally don't understand why you've done this."

Enola didn't look at Hermione as she spoke, choosing instead to frown at the scene before them, where two of the youngest new arrivals at The Blue Palace met with the girl they had taken that title from. Well, one of them did, anyway. Dudley Dursley's daughter, who had finally told them that her name was Lucy, was shyly talking to Celesca Lovegood in the middle of the room. Delphini, on the other hand, was angrily hidden away under a blanket, on a bed as far away from Hermione as she could get.

"Oh, no … not you as well!" Hermione moaned, somewhat desperately. "I've already had Harry shout at me and Neville tell me off for spoiling the atmosphere around the house … I was hoping for some support from somewhere. I only did what I thought was right … doesn't anyone agree with me?"

"Honestly … no," Enola replied bluntly, turning to face her. "I mean, taking the Dursley girl was one thing, but Delphini? Hermione … that thing is the spawn of Voldemort and Bellatrix Lestrange! She is a child of the worst kind of evil. That darkness is running through her veins as we speak, probably plotting ways to kill us in our sleep!"

Hermione rounded on Enola, her anger spiking as she did. "So what are you saying, Enola? That this three year old child hasbad blood in her? Dirty, muddy blood, is that it? What do you think we should call her … a neo-Mudblood? Is that why you think I took her, because she's just like me? A kindred spirit, all rotten on the inside just because of her blood? Well, answer me then!"

Enola stepped back, her face white with shock at Hermione's unexpected outburst.

"No, no, of course that's not what I'm saying!" Enola replied in a shaky voice. Hermione was truly scary when she was cross. "I don't think that, Min, I really don't!"

"Well it certainly sounds that way!" Hermione riled, her fury growing still. "I had non-Magical parents, so my blood was dirty according to a large part of Magical society. They even gave me a name for it … Muggleborn. Pinned it like a bright neon badge to my dirty-blooded chest. Harry and Neville weren't called Magicalborns, were they? No, they were just regular little boys with magical abilities. They didn't need a denomination, they didn't need to be pigeon-holed into a little box like I was.

"And neither did you, growing up in a sheltered coven away from prying eyes. You grew up as Enola Hart, the daughter of witches, and that was it. You weren't Hermione the Muggleborn, or Hermione the Mudblood like I was. So you haven't got a fucking clue what it's like for people to judge you on something as stupid as blood and parental background, and certainly no right to judge others for it."

"But … I'm not …" Enola tried to argue. Tears were welling in her eyes now.

"Yes you are!" Hermione cried, causing the girls to look over at them from their game. "Having Muggle blood meant nothing, not a fucking thing, when it came to how strong my magic might be, or how I could treat other people, or how I developed as a human being or anything important like that. I decided those things, and my parents shaped me in the right way, with good principles and morals. I had the best start in life I could have hoped for.

"But what has Delphini had? Absolutely nothing. She's a product of Riddle and Lestrange. You used the word spawned and you are dead right … do you think Riddle and Lestrange had sex to create Delphini? Are you all really that sheltered and stupid in here? Tom Riddle is seventy-five years old … do you truly believe that he organically created children with Lestrange, and Ginny and Cho, and all the rest of them? Perhaps you do, but you are all so, so wrong.

"Tom Riddle is a narcissist. He believes in his own omnipotence like he's some sort of fucking god on Earth. You only have to listen to the propaganda and rhetoric he's been spouting for five years to know that. Only you wouldn't have, because you all sit cosily behind these shields and have a jolly old time and leave the suffering to everyone else."

"Hermione, that isn't fair …"

"And Voldemort has dabbled with dirtier, darker forms of magic than any of us could ever conceive of," Hermione went on rapidly, as though Enola hadn't spoken at all. "Do you think he sired children to be a daddy to them? Do you think he visits Delphini every week to bring her sweets and read her bedtime stories? Well if you do, you're even more blind and naïve than you're making out to be right now … because I doubt that he's ever even seen her.

"The world out there is dark, Enola. Far darker than Death Eaters cutting off your husband's cock just to spite him. Tom Riddle has sired children to use in his own Dark Magic intentions. And who knows what they might be; a series of empty vessels to transfer his soul into when his own body gives out, perhaps … or girls and boys created from his own seed that can produce super, inbred-children for his soul to inhabit in the future … or maybe just powerful sacrifices, who knows. Voldemort wants to live forever … but even he cant overcome the physical limitations of that.

"So, if he has to kill or steal the bodies of his own children ... ones he cares nothing for ... just to prolong his filthy existence, then that's just what he will do. Their bad blood, as you termed it, will serve them well when that time comes. Just like Celesca's would have, or Alison's, if the Death Eaters could get her onto some Dark altar or another."

"Min … I didn't say any of this!" Enola yelped, weeping at the thought of her own precious girl being used in such a way. "I was just trying to point out …"

"You were saying that the children on this side of the Ward are better than the ones that side, just because they had a better beginning in life!" Hermione snapped. "And if you didn't say it, you were thinking it. Delphini has only ever known evil and hatred in her short life … and you are prepared to utterly condemn her for that, for a crime she doesn't even know she's committed. Having the blood of Riddle and Bellatrix in her veins does not make her like them in any way … but being around them to absorb their warped teachings does.

"And that is why I had to bring her here. This has to end, Ennie, why can none of you see that? This cycle of revenge will go on and on if we don't draw a line in the sand, and draw it here. Voldemort killed Harry's parents … Harry has obsessed about killing him in return … and, once we kill Bella and Riddle, we will give Delphini all the motivation she needs to target us in revenge or, Merlin forbid, target mine and Harry's children at some point down the line.

"And I can't allow that, Ennie, I just cant. These children were born innocent, and we have a chance still to save them from darkness. But hard bridges have to be built for us to do that … because the alternative is shuddering for all of us."

"What alternative?"

Hermione took a rattling breath and looked at Enola with a gaze of pure iron.

"Voldemort has brainwashed an entire generation of Magical children into believing that he is some sort of universal father, and there will be a lot of anger towards Harry when he rids the world of Tom Riddle. This generation will be a significant threat to us, and we will have to deal with that one way or the other.

"I want these children to grow up as our allies, Enola ... but make no mistake, whatever it takes … I will not allow them to grow up to become our enemies."

Enola gulped hard at the darkness of the promise. Hermione meant it in every inflection of her low voice.

"So, you see, this is as much for Harry and I as it is these children," Hermione went on. "If we cannot bring them over to the Light, then they will die at some future point to the Darkness they have been taught to worship. And we will be the ones who kill them. Some will choose that road, I have no doubt about that … but if we can convert the toughest and most devout of these children, the ones directly connected to Voldemort, then we maybe have a better chance with the others."

"I see the morality of this, I really do," Enola replied. "But why do this to Harry so personally? Why not just place these kids with families who can take care of them for you? You must know how dropping this into his lap in the way you did was hugely manipulative? You were trading on his love for you to agree to any of this."

"And you think that is just as bad as trading on his hate to kill them instead?" Hermione cried, incredulously. "Will you listen to yourself? You know Harry's mind better than anyone … better than me, better even than him, probably. One trip into his mind plains right now and he'd come out with a blood-lust fury so unstoppable that we'd have two dead little girls to bury in the garden tonight … if we could find enough of them left to carry out the ceremony. Would you fancy doing that?"

Enola shivered at the notion. "No … no, of course not. But you must see how fraught this is. Delphini will likely grow up with deep resentment anyway. You are going to kill both her parents, for crying out loud! What happens when the time comes for her to properly deal with that? Or what if Harry gives her an off-word and she throws it back at him, as confirmation that he never really loved her?"

"I don't really believe that Harry will ever love her as his own," Hermione replied, dismissively. "There is too much negative history for that. But if he can get past his hatred enough to care for her, to look after her, that will be a massive step in itself. She'll know he's not her father, but hopefully she will be able to see the good in his intentions nonetheless. And if he can show her that, maybe Delphini will be more pliant to an open discussion about all this when she's older.

"Look, when she realises that Harry and I killed her parents, she will be angry and she'll want answers. But if she is here with us, where we can explain and give her the chance to understand it all, maybe she will deal with that resentment in a more logical and mature way. She has to be given the chance to understand that we had no choice, that her evil parents forced this outcome on themselves, rather than leaving her to fester with animosity."

"I'm not sure if that will work, Min," Enola grimaced.

"No, neither am I … but I have to try," Hermione sighed. "It's certainly better than the alternative. We have to show her goodness, show her love, and then nurture her enough to take that path for herself."

"And if you fail?"

"Then we will deal with that when the time comes," Hermione replied, starkly. "But at least the child wont lose her eternal soul to some piece of Dark Magic from her father if we do."

Enola sighed deeply as she considered that. "You're a braver woman then me, Hermione. Having children is challenging enough … but taking two on at once, especially ones with this much baggage, that's a whole other sort of angst you're inviting into your life."

"I know, but I'm still thankful just to have a life to commit these things to … because for the longest time I didn't think that I would," Hermione told her, bracingly. "The struggles wont stop once Tom Riddle is defeated, Enola. In fact, building a better world might be even harder than any of this. But we have to try."

The two witches shared a grim nod at that, and watched Celesca and Lucy Dursley playing together at the centre of the room. Hermione chanced a weak smile as she watched them, hoping that it was a glimpse of the future. Then she flicked her eyes at the mound of blankets that Delphini was shrouded beneath as it twitched a little, knowing that it, too, was a sign of the difficulties to come. Hermione sighed heavily again, still stubbornly convinced that she had done the right thing … even if she might have to face the rest of it alone.

For Harry's meeting with Lucy Dursley hadn't been a positive one. Hermione rather thought later that she should have expected as much. Harry was at least willing to meet the girl, but she was so afraid of him in his shawl that Lucy hid underneath Hermione's flowing skirt until Harry went away. Harry gave Hermione an I told you so sort of look as he left, and they had a row later about what they were going to do next, and Harry steadfastly told Hermione that this was a mistake he wanted no part of.

If Hermione wanted to try and look after these girls, Harry wouldn't stop her … but she would have to do it without any help from him.

But they couldn't stay angry at each other for very long, so they agreed to disagree on the matter some time later, with Harry keeping his offer to deliver Delphini back to the Death Eaters as an indefinitely open-ended one, for when this inevitably all went wrong, which he was convinced it would. Hermione sadly felt that she'd lost a little bit of her influence and power over Harry with this episode, but it was done now and she was still sure that it was done for the best.

The troubles with inherited little girls wasn't their only one, however, so they decided to focus on problems that they had far more tangible solutions to … namely the imperative need to heal Angharad … and Hermione, herself … from the flesh-eating curse of Antonin Dolohov.

So a few days later and Harry and Hermione were to be found leaning over a softly simmering cauldron in Cassie's potions lab. Making an antidote for Angharad and Hermione and their poisoned blood was a tricky endeavour, and time was running out for the former, at least. They didn't have an endless supply of Antonin Dolohov's blood to test with either, so the potion had to be perfect first time, if they could manage it.

It was a very fine margin to work within.

"What we have to ensure is that the blood is completely cleared of the infection," said Cassie, pondering her mixture. "We'll have to take samples of blood from both Ann and you, Hermione, and see if we can't get them to form their own antibodies, which will attack Dolohov's evil essence in your systems. Your natural defences will do most of the leg work if we can achieve that."

"So, essentially, we would use Dolohov's blood to kill his spell … in us?" Hermione queried.

"Exactly," Cassie nodded. "We have been using a blood thinning potion I created on Ann, which is very good at limiting the spread of regular infections, but it's not really doing much against something this potent. We haven't managed to get it to touch your scar either, have we, Harry? And the damage there is as bad as anything."

"No, we've never made a dent in that with any potion we've tried," Harry agreed. "And I can't see how simply adding Dolohov's blood to it will make any difference to Ann or Hermione."

"No, I agree," Cassie frowned. "But ... and don't hate me for this ... that is the most potent potion I've ever brewed. I'm not sure what will work, if we assume that wont. If I did, we'd have already done it."

Hermione drummed her fingers against her chin. "So, Harry … what about ad-mixing in one of your alchemical elixirs, using Dolohov's blood to target the infection? They are more powerful than standard potions, you said."

"They are," Harry confirmed. "But the White Elixir, which is the most powerful I've successfully made so far, is really only effective for physical injuries. It soothes aches, fixes bones and cuts, that sort of thing. And, just like the blood thinning potion, I've taken that plenty of times, too. If that was the solution, it would have made more of a dent in Riddle's little legacy on me by now. It seemed to work when I used it on you for Dolohov's Curse, but I was obviously wrong about that. That spell was genuinely powerful enough to be a fourth Unforgiveable. It literally attacks all body organs at once and degrades them at speed ... it practically ages them in seconds. Complex as hell ... and totally deadly. My White Elixir isn't anything like as potent enough to cure it."

"But you've never made it as far as The Elixir of Life yet, have you?" asked Hermione. "Could that work for us?"

Harry thought quietly for a moment, deeply pensive. "In theory ... it should. It cures all disease after all, keeps you alive no matter what. But I've never even gotten close to making it … and unless you know someone who has a Philosopher's Stone they want to lend us, we're kind of limited on that score."

"You seemed confident that you could make it when I asked you the other night," Hermione frowned.

"That was just bravado, love," Harry confessed, guiltily. "You were so take charge ... it didn't seem right to stop you when you were so fervoured."

"But can you do it? Do you know how?"

"I do ... but I've failed every time I've tried before," Harry mumbled.

"Harry, honey, stop being so bloody negative about this!" Hermione cried in frustration.

"I'm just being practical."

"No, you're being a roadblock," Hermione snapped back. "Don't you see, don't you get it? All the things you've been trying to tell me … about alchemy, our joining, our chemical wedding and all that ... we are the Philosopher's Stone, you said. You needed me to complete your Opus, to be part of it. Well, now we have ... but, as yet, you haven't made anything with me as part of the process. These things that you have failed to achieve so far, you failed because you were doing them alone.

"But you aren't alone anymore. You never will be again. I'm here with you, a part of you. So let me into these alchemical processes of yours. Take my power, take my blood, my essence, my love … whatever you need. And let's take this final Earthly step together ... let's create gold, The Stone, The Elixir … then use it to heal me and Ann completely. I believe in you, Harry ... so can you do this?"

Harry looked hard at his wife. His heart was beating so fast for her he was sure it might burst right out of his chest. He considered her words, her proclamation … and he felt stunned by them, not to mention unworthy of her unswerving support and confidence in him, even when they weren't completely seeing eye-to-eye on everything ... and for a moment, just a moment, he wondered if Hermione was right about Delphini and Lucy after all, and whether he owed it to her to try a bit harder with them for her sake, just in case she was. She wasn't often wrong, he knew that much for certain. He stepped close and brought his mouth down to his wife's, unsure about any of that, but still completely and utterly sure about them.

"Yes, I can do this ... if you'll help me with the final stage," Harry whispered as they breathlessly moved apart, keeping their foreheads touching as was their favourite way of maintaining the intimacy. "We need a full moon ... then, at midnight, we can begin the transmutation process."

"Well, if that works, it's one part down," said Cassie, flushing at being witness to the passion of the Potters. "But what about the other part … the physical wounds?"

"I have a feeling that if we can clean the curse residue, rid it of the surface Dark Magic, we should be able to close the flesh wounds like any other," Hermione offered, still clinging to Harry and swaying slightly in his arms. The fierceness of his kiss had left her a little dazed a moment.

"I agree," Harry nodded. "We could use the Elixir-blood mix as a salve on Ann, because she has that slash wound open on her shoulder. Assuming that this works at all, it should rid the wound of the magic that stops us closing it permanently now. If that heals up, the rest should, too."

"It's a pity we haven't got a Death Eater to test the potion on first," Cassie quirked. "Do you think anyone fancies going out and capturing a bad guy who fancies losing a limb to Dark Magic in the name of research?"

Hermione suddenly became excited and very animated. "Harry, Harry! What about using an elf as a test subject!?"

"Sally! Of course," Harry exclaimed. "Did we keep her arm?"

"Yeah, we did!" Cassie cried. "We put it in a stasis potion, just in case we found a way to reattach it. But then we saw how the Dark the magic that severed it kept resisting the Healing, and we just put it away and forgot about it. It should still be there."

"How long till this part of the potion is done?" asked Harry.

"A day or so," Cassie replied.

"Good. When you have it ready, take samples up to the Recuperation Room. I'll go and ask Rhian and Sally if they want to try this, once we have the Elixir of Life ... we'll see if we cant give an elf a hand!"

Hermione shook her head and looked pityingly at her husband. "Harry … that was truly terrible, honey, even for you! But do we really have to wait for a full moon to create the Elixir? We only just had one. What if Ann doesn't have another month?"

Harry grinned at her. "I think I might have a solution to that. Just go up to my Alchemy Cell ... if we cant wait for the full moon, maybe we'll just have to bring one to us."

The midnight moon shone down powerfully through the clear night, throwing a perfect circle of silver onto Harry's Alchemy Cell, through the retractable roof that was now thrown open to the elements. Hermione gasped in shock when Harry had shown her that, as much surprised by the hidden function of the ceiling as she was by the gorgeous night sky that was suddenly exposed to her. It was simply breathtaking. This was one secret that Hermione was happy that Harry had kept, just for this ideal, romantic moment to have him reveal it to her.

But he had kept another romantic surprise in store, too ... his plan to use his Time-Turner to whisk them back a week to the night of the full moon, instead of waiting another three weeks for the next one, recalling the adventure that held a special place in their hearts for the both of them. Harry even gave Hermione a rubber hippogriff bath toy to mark the occasion by.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Harry asked, grinning at her. "And I mean the view, not the hippogriff! Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?"

"Is it too cringey and sickly-sweet to say 'you'?" Hermione smiled softly. She was pointedly keen to score points with her husband again, feeling that recent events were in danger of driving a serious wedge between them. She curled her arm around his and drank in the clear, star-strewn sky. "Would it be okay if we just came in here to sit together sometimes, just so we can marvel at this?"

"I have zero problem with that ... so long as it doesn't rain!" Harry chuckled. "It's just a pity that I don't have two eyes to enjoy it with."

Hermione pulled him close. "What have I told you about spouting all this nonsense? We are going to heal you of this. Get that into your head … I am going to fix you, no matter what you have to say about it."

"You know, the power balance in this marriage really seems to be shifting away from me," Harry quirked. "I'm having to concede to you more and more."

Hermione sighed, deliberately avoiding addressing the landmine subject that they were both now actively not discussing together. "What can I say? You're mine now. I worked hard enough for you, now I have to change you to what I actually want you to be! That's just what we witches do, you know."

"Oh really?" Harry laughed. "And what, exactly, do you intend to change?"

"Not much, to be fair," Hermione quipped. "Perhaps your mouth … you give me far too much sass to be going on with!

Harry chuckled at that. " Well, you're going to have to listen to my mouth as it is for a little while longer. Now, you've taught me a lot in life, Hermione, but tonight we are going to do a little bit of reverse role-play. I'll be the professor and you'll be the student for a change, okay?"

"Alright ... but I should just throw it out there and say that I'll do anything for a good grade, Sir ... anything at all," Hermione purred, moving slowly to him with a wide-eyed, coquettish little look. "I really hope that this is a class where my grades aren't the only things that can go down ..."

Harry felt his heart pump fast, sending all his blood beneath his waist in one go. He grinned wickedly at Hermione. "Where did you get this mouth from?"

"Hey ... I just read that thought from your mind, Mister!" Hermione giggled.

"No, what I actually thought was - 'this is a class where things besides your grades can bounce up and down'," Harry corrected, lightly. "If you're going to read my mind, at least get it right. Or perhaps we'll save that for a homework assignment or something. Maybe we can do some hands-on studying in the library when we're done."

"Oh, Harry ... don't start me off with that! I'll be dragging you down there right now!"

Harry laughed at that. "Alright, let's start this lesson, shall we? Right ... Foundation Alchemy, Class One. There are three stages to the alchemical process, called the Nigredo, the Albedo and the Rubedo. Physical alchemy is what most alchemists seek to achieve, that's the Opus Alchymicum that almost all of them embark upon. To be considered to have completed the Opus, the full alchemical Work, an alchemist must be able to produce not only gold and the Elixir of Life, but an actual Philosopher's Stone."

"Like Flamel?"

"Like Flamel," Harry nodded. "Then, after six hundred years of life , you have a break with reality and entrust its safety to a dumb cunt like Dumbledore, who stores one of the most powerful magical artefacts that a wizard can create under a fucking school! And you guard it with a big dog, some flying keys and a chess set. Oh, and a mirror. I mean, you can't make this shit up!

"But I digress. So, you have physical alchemy here," Harry lifted his left hand up and down to illustrate his point. "Then you have spiritual Alchemy here ... which is what better alchemists do."

"Like you." Hermione smiled.

"Like me," Harry agreed, winking at her. "I can do almost all of the other stuff, but I turned from that type of alchemy almost straight away, so I didn't really bother much with it, especially when I hit my first lot of failures. But by marrying you, I've jumped … we've jumped … to a whole new level. You've made me gold, spiritually and emotionally ... don't look so coy, you have ... and my Mum and Dad knew that you would all along. I thought that this was just my journey, my quest alone.

"But I was so wrong. This was our journey, our quest. And it was always ours, right from the very start, right from the moment that you found me that first day on the Hogwarts Express ... and I couldn't have ever gotten to this point without you. Even when you weren't around me to show me the way, I was still guided by you and the amazing influence you have to steer me to grow and be better."

Harry nearly lost his mind as he said that. He felt a surge of love from Hermione so powerful it left him utterly senseless a moment.

"But what does that mean, Harry?" asked Hermione in a breathy tone. She looked like she wanted to leap over and pounce on him. Harry saw a lot of merit in that idea.

"If I understand alchemy right, and I'm pretty sure I do," Harry went on excitedly. "Then it could mean something very important."

Hermione frowned in her impatience. "Do you want to have sex tonight?"

"Okay, okay, I'll get to the point" Harry replied, quickly. "We have formed the perfect alchemical couple. Sulphur ... hot and dry ... marries mercury ... cool and moist …"

Hermione read Harry's thought and her eyes popped open. "Fire and earth, air and water. The four elements? But we don't …"

"I'm hot, through my passions, my fire," Harry cut across in his excitement. "And I'm a Master of Air, too…"

"Through Quidditch?" asked Hermione, reaching into Harry's brain again.

"Well, through flying," Harry corrected. "But I was always chasing a Golden Snitch … as a Seeker, another word for an adept … but you've been told all this."

"Yes, but it doesn't stop getting any less weirder," Hermione retorted. "It's like someone designed you on purpose. And how about me?"

"Easy," Harry smirked. "You're a Granger … like a farmer, a tiller of earth. And you are cool, though your logic and mind. Which is the water part. What happens when you combine all four? I gave you a book on it once."

Hermione gasped. "The fifth element? The Quintessence?"

"Yep," Harry nodded. "If only I could tie you down to something azure or periwinkle blue, I'd have you pegged."

"How about this?" asked Hermione. She reached for her wand and cast a gout of bluebell flames, azure blue in colour to be precise. Harry watched them in fond astonishment … remembering many a cold Hogwarts afternoon where Hermione would conjure a jar full to keep them warm between classes. It was a spell she'd perfected setting fire to Severus Snape during their first year at Hogwarts ...

"Well, I was actually thinking of this …"

Harry drew his own wand and conjured a magical photograph. He passed it to Hermione, who gasped in utter shock.

"The Yule Ball ... my dress …"

"What was it … periwinkle blue … if memory serves?" Harry asked, somewhat smugly. "My bloody parents … they knew what you were to me then, and they didn't find a way to tell me … I seriously hate them a bit."

"Periwinkle blue," Hermione whispered, reciting from her memory. "The colour of the Quintessence. But Harry … what does that mean?"

"It means I'm dumb, blind, and should have known what you were to me a long, long time ago," Harry smiled. "You are my Quintessence … the culmination of my part of the Opus, the partner I needed to complete the Upper Work. These are the signs that nature sent to me, to let me know who my White Queen was. But, because Dumbledore fucked with nature, I didn't know who or what I was, let alone that I was looking for something at all, or what it would ever look like if I ever found it. That's why I was never able to properly see you, Hermione … I wasn't worthy of you. I didn't deserve to see my own personal vision of perfection, even though you were right in front of me the whole time. I had to have my eyes opened to you. I had to become good enough."

"And what makes you think you are now?" Hermione teased.

"You …" Harry whispered, taking her face gently in his hands. "Your very act of accepting me. You deciding I was good enough for you, deciding to marry me, despite what struggles we still had to overcome. You knew that I wanted to, but it was the fact that you wanted to so completely … it took us over that last hurdle. You've completed me … in every way imaginable."

"Are you just trying to dehydrate me on purpose?" Hermione whimpered. "I'm not supposed to spend all of our marriage crying, you know!"

"They're good tears, it's fine," Harry smirked. "But, don't you see? You are my Quintessence, the zenith of my Opus. And we've joined in an alchemical wedding. We've become gold emotionally. But …"

"The rest?" Hermione queried. Harry nodded. "The Stone … the Elixir …"

"We are the Stone," Harry whispered. "And, if I'm right, our very love is the Elixir. All we have to do is make the metaphysical physical now."

"And how do we do that?" Hermione asked. "I assume you have an actual stone of some kind that we have to transform."

Harry nodded. "At the very start of this process I had to take a whole load of personal elements from my own body ... hair, blood, skin, sweat, spit, urine ... you get the idea. Then I had to mix them all together with dashes of sulphur and mercury into what was, in all honesty, this quite disgusting putrid mass. But it was my base matter ... all my life forces, as well as my cast-offs and my waste. I infused it with my magic and it formed a semi-solid, amorphous blob."

"Sounds delightful," Hermione grimaced.

"It didn't fill me with optimism at first, either, I won't lie, Harry chuckled. "But it was from this substance that the Philosopher's Stone is created. It is the prima materia ... the first matter ... the basic substance of all life in the universe. When it is purified it can be projected onto any corrupt object, and make it pure. Or so the theory goes.

"So then I began what we call the 'Lower Work', or Earthly Alchemy. I treated this black mass in the hottest fire, purged it of its imperfections. Then I multiplied it, used it to turn lead ... the basest metal ... into four purer forms: Tin, Iron, Quicksilver and Copper. All the copper, and some of the bronze and brass furniture in here, I made from that source. That bath over there is the best example of my craftsmanship."

"You made this yourself?" Hermione asked, impressed. "Wow."

"Physical alchemists are, above all, Masters of Fire and Master Metallurgists, as a result of striving to produce gold," Harry explained. "It's a more basic pursuit, if you like."

"But you've also made silver," Hermione mused. "My engagement ring was made of it, wasn't it?"

"Yes, it was a blend of quicksilver and regular silver, to be precise," Harry confirmed. "I have reached the Albedo stage by being able to do that. As well as turning lead as far as silver in an alchemical bath, the solution I used is what's known as the White Elixir. It is produced as the result of the process … but also causes it in the first place."

Hermione frowned. "That doesn't make a bit of sense!"

"Welcome to alchemy!" Harry laughed. "It's all a bit like that, all allegory and subtext. The Stone is a stone … but not a stone. It is burned down to a powder, but also used as a liquid solution and a gas. It all makes sense when you get used to it. For now, all you need to know is that we must treat my base matter in a White Elixir solution ... and then try to purify it one stage further.

"Would you like to see what my purified, Albedo-level amorphous blob looks like today?"

"I'll probably regret this, but okay."

Harry grinned and moved to his ornate cabinet on the far side of the room. He unlocked the bottom draw with a silent spell and reached inside.

What he drew out made Hermione gasp in breathtaking surprise.

It was, essentially, a mass of crystal. It was hard to tell if it was silver or the purest shade of white. Either way, it was dazzling to the eye. It gave off its own subdued light, and looked to be shifting beneath the surface like liquid, but more viscous ... perhaps like mercury. Hermione took it with baited breath as Harry handed it to her. She held it in her trembling fingers, as though protecting a precious, priceless treasure.

"My goodness, Harry … this is beautiful!" Hermione breathed.

"Isn't it just?" Harry replied, grinning fondly. "It's amazing how pure something can get with the right treatment, when it's purged of its imperfections, don't you agree?"

Hermione nodded.

"And you remember your revulsion at my bodily fluid mixture?" Hermione gave a sheepish little nod again. "Well, if you imagine, that was me at the start of my Opus ... base, ugly and corrupt. And now I'm at the Rubedo stage in my life … and my transmuting force, the thing that transformed me from the imperfect to the enlightened … is you."

Hermione gasped again, looking at Harry with disbelieving eyes.

"I was that Black Matter before we met," Harry elaborated. "And through knowing you, and all the infinite myriad of good you've done to, and for me, I've become purified, like that object in your hands. I've become a better man … in your hands, under your care. The only thing left to do is for us to create gold ... together."

"Then show me how," Hermione breathed. "Just tell me what to do. I am in your hands, too."

Harry grinned. "If this is, indeed, the right time for this … when all is aligned for it to work … this should be a simple thing."

"It is … I know it."

"And I feel it," Harry breathed. "So, we have to call on the Parents of Alchemy to bless us, like in our wedding. We have to heat the White Stone with the hottest fire we can produce, add more sulphur and mercury, then meditate on the process and channel our power into the transformation."

"And how will we know if it's worked?" Hermione asked.

"The treatment solution will change from white to gold, and the Stone will turn from silver to reddish-purple ... the colour of the Philosopher's Stone."

"Let's do it, Harry," Hermione smiled at him. "Let's complete Our Work."

Harry nodded and slowly assembled the collection of alchemical equipment that had once belonged to Nicolas Flamel. He took his still and alembic, sealing the White Stone in a crucible inside. Then he drew his wand a lit a flame beneath, while at the same time instructing Hermione to pour a silvery liquid solution into the alembic from the top. But almost immediately, Harry began to frown.

"This isn't going to work," he muttered crossly. "The fire isn't hot enough."

Hermione smiled and moved next to him. "Here, allow me."

She aimed her wand at the fire and sent a jet of her bluebell flames into the mix. It flashed in searing, blue-hot colour and Harry watched in awe as the liquid solution soon began to bubble.

"It ... it's never done that before," Harry hushed out.

"Then that's a good thing!" Hermione exclaimed. "What's next?"

"I'll add three pinches of sulphur, you add three drops of mercury," Harry instructed. "They are the seeds of all metals, of all living things. They will add the powers of creation to the Stone."

Harry and Hermione carried out the operation, slowly increasing the heat until the whole mixture was a raging torrent.

"Next we have to infuse the mixture with our intent," Harry went on. "Meditate on the solution, imagine it purifying and becoming full of light. Try to push your very will into the alembic."

So Hermione did, squeezing her eyes and directing all her thoughts into the bubbly glass vessel. Harry did the same, calling out to the heavens for a extra dash of power.

"I call on King Sol, the Father of Alchemy, to Bless and Infuse us. I call on him as a Red King ... Master of Fire and Air."

A tidal surge of magical energy exploded around the room like a sudden gale. Harry closed his eye as it encircled him, concentrating it, before driving into the alembic, which sloshed and swirled from the impact. Then Harry nodded at Hermione, encouraging her to follow his example. She tried to recall the details of the wedding ritual. It wasn't hard, it was the best day of her life, after all ... she could have transcribed the whole day word for word.

"I call on Queen Luna, the Mother of Alchemy, to Bless and Infuse us. I call on her as a White Queen ... Mistress of Earth and Water."

Harry inclined his head and smiled at her, as thumping magic hit the room once more, causing the alchemical water to swell and splash as though being buffeted from all sides.

"Open up your essence, honey ... let it all out," Harry urged in a whisper. "Just keep your mind on the Stone. I'm going to join our magic and push it into the alembic ... we'll soon know if this has worked or not."

Harry proceeded, dipping into Hermione's well of energy and drawing it into that ephemeral connection he was always lightly aware of between them these days. It heaved and surged with the sudden increase of power and Harry eased it gently down, trying to ignore Hermione's shuddering feet touching his own where she was standing so close. When their energies crossed into the body of the White Stone, even she felt it.

"Wow, Harry," Hermione breathed. "What is that? I can feel it changing … does that mean it's working?"

"I think it must be, because I've not felt this happen before," Harry whispered in awed shock. "Look!

He nodded at the milky water, which was thickening, congealing and swilling hard before them ... and changing into a dazzling shade of brilliant gold.

"Keep going, Harry!" Hermione urged. "It's happening!"

Harry knew it just as certainly. The texture of the Stone was smoothing in his mind, refining, becoming richer and most lustrous. Harry pushed at it with all his intent … until he felt a light snap, as though he'd crossed a threshold to somewhere entirely new ... somewhere that the possibilities of life were endless and exhilarating.

Harry didn't need to look at his equipment to know ... he could feel that it had worked, but he still just had to see it for himself. So he flicked his eye forward, to that space between his hands and Hermione's, which were now crossed over each other either side of the alembic, and there, shining brightly beneath the golden waves, was the purest red stone that either of them had ever seen.

Well, not since Harry was eleven-years-old and he drew a similar one from the Mirror of Erised, obviously.

"Harry …" Hermione breathed. "Look at it! It's the prettiest, most beautiful …"

But she couldn't say any more, as Harry had closed his lips around hers, drawing her head to him with both hands, as Hermione lifted the first Philosopher's Stone created in seven centuries from the alchemical bath. She wrapped her arms around her husband, pulling him bodily closer until they were pressed flush to each other.

They broke apart after several breathless minutes, and just rested their foreheads together as they cuddled, as was their way.

"This … this means," Harry whispered. "This means that we can really heal you!"

He spoke the words in wonder, believing them unequivocally, and sounding so relived that Hermione ached at the realisation of just how worried he'd been about her.

Hermione smiled back at him. "Yes … yes, we can. But that can wait until tomorrow. I'll let you look after me then … but, tonight, your care is all in my hands."

Hermione slid her arm around Harry's lower back, deposited the Philosopher's Stone on the cabinet and guided Harry from the alchemy cell in the direction of their bedroom ... where this White Queen intended to make an unsubtle move ... and mate with her Red King.

The next day and a small crowd gathered in the Infirmary, where Harry led the team on this most experimental of procedures. He had soaked the Philosopher's Stone in the solution that Cassie had made for three hours, allowing the power of the Stone to infuse the mixture. Then he stirred it twelve times clockwise, and twelve times anti-clockwise, until the mixture blended perfectly. After that he took a sample and boiled off the excess liquid, adding aloe vera until he was left with a paste-like substance, which he thoroughly mixed in a pestle bowl.

"Is this dangerous, Master Harry?" asked Rhian, as Cassie began diagnostic spell casting on Sally, who had been put into magical sedation for the procedure.

Harry considered the question. "I don't know, actually. I've never done this before."

Rhian squeaked and pulled on her ears as the anxiety washed through her.

"It'll be fine, Rhian," Harry soothed. "The worst that will happen is that Sally's arm wont work at all … which is no different than she is now. Cassie's just keeping an eye on her, that's all."

"Rhian trusts you, Master Harry," twittered the fraught little elf.

"So, Arianwen," Harry went on, turning to Enola's mother. "I'm thinking to just apply this like a cream. Do you agree?"

"Yes, work it in nice and deep," Arianwen replied, as Harry began to apply the salve. "Good. Don't scrimp on it. Might as well use it all. Here … you take her arm … and I'll begin the reattachment procedure."

"So what are we hoping will happen?" Hermione asked, peering close and holding the pestle as Harry worked with great care.

"The Dark Magic which caused the wound is stopping it from being repaired," Harry explained. "If this mixture contains more powerful Light Magic, as we hope, then it should overpower the lingering effects and allow us to reattach the limb with no problem at all. Getting around the Dark Curse was always the problem."

"And how will we use this on me and Angharad?"

"We'll add a few drops of Dolohov's blood and a targeting agent to the potion, and then introduce it into your systems," Harry replied. "It should locate the Dark energies at work and destroy them, and any cells they have infected. Ann's body will start to regenerate, the hole in your heart will close up and you should both be just fine, given a decent amount of recovery time."

"Lord Potter, focus please," Arianwen insisted.

Harry did as he was told, following Arianwen's instructions on positioning and adjustment until the arm was just right. Then the medi-witch began a series of delicate spells, reattaching bone and sinew and the arterial pathways. It was slow work, taking over two hours to completely link everything back together. By the end of it, Harry's own arms felt like they were about to fall off, from holding Sally's in position for so long.

"There … I think that should do it," Arianwen announced, stepping back and rubbing her hands.

"How will we know if it's worked?" asked Harry.

"I've rejoined everything," Arianwen replied. "But the veins are still closed at the connection points. If I open them up, blood should flow in and the arm will come back to life. If this has worked."

"Do it," Harry ordered.

Enola's mother nodded, then swept her wand over Sally's shoulder. Rhian looked on cautiously, Cassie cast her own wand over the arm … then grinned up at Harry.

"Blood flow, Harry … we have blood flow!" she sang.

"Wake Sally up ... we have to know for sure," said Harry.

Cassie cast the spell, Sally stirred sleepily and looked around.

"Did it work, Master Harry?" she asked groggily. "Does Sally have two hands again?"

"You tell me," Harry grinned, ticking Sally's flat hand and laughing as her fingers curled up at his touch and she giggled heartily.

"Ooh, Master Harry! Yous fixed me! Yous fixed me!" Sally cried, tears swelling in her bulbous eyes.

"Then gives yous Mummy elf a hug … with two arms!" Rhian squeaked, darting under Harry's body and drawing Sally into a deep embrace.

"Well done, ladies," Harry smiled at Cassie and Arianwen. "I think we should leave these two for a bit of mother and daughter time, don't you?"

The four of them quietly exited the infirmary as Sally and Rhian began to test out the working-again limb. Harry was cheered by the sight. That had been far easier than he would ever had hoped. But, as was his lot, his good mood didn't last very long.

For Enola suddenly skidded down the stairs and raced to them. She looked white and out of breath.

"I hope everything went well with Sally," Enola puffed, clutching at her side.

"It did," Harry replied, frowning at Enola's loaded expression.

"Good. Then you'd better bring that cure-all with me. Ann's having some sort of seizure ... I think she's dying, Harry. I really hope we aren't too late to save her."

Enjoying this story? Check out some of the others in my portfolio and drop me a comment, or a kudos, or a star if you're enjoying any of my tales! Thanks for reading, and stay safe in these wacky times!