An Opus Alchymicum

by Th3Alchemist

Hermione and her animal dæmon live content in Oxford, until a chance meeting with a woman named Lyra changes everything. Linked by destiny to a boy named Potter, their adventure takes them on a perilous journey to the frozen North, to witches and armoured bears, and into another world - the world of Hogwarts - and a boy starting his own journey that will forever change them both.

64. High Brasil

"The two Arthur what?" Harry asked.

"The Tuatha De Danaan," Will explained for the third time. "Also known as The Shining Ones. The tribe first blessed by Dust, it is they who brought magic and consciousness into the world, taught art and science, built great monuments and generally formed the foundation of much of our modern culture. Now, they are the guardians of that Sacred Knowledge, the gatekeepers of its dissemination across all universes here on Earth."

Harry swallowed hard. "And they are the ones I have to get past in order to find the Book of Dust?"

"No, young Mr Potter," Will corrected. "They are the ones who wrote it. Without their permission, you wont even be able to read the words. Getting past them wont be your greatest challenge ... getting them onside is a far bigger dilemma."

Harry looked out of the window of the coastguard's boat as he contemplated this new task. Will brought the engine to an idling state as they cruised through the water. High Brasil was located approximately twelve miles into the Atlantic off the West coast of Ireland, but the perimeter ring was at least two miles from the island itself. They were just about skirting that border now.

"This is as close as we can get," Will announced to James as he too peered out across the great expanse of water. "It's too dangerous to go in conventionally from here."

"Can we Apparate in?" Harry asked his father.

James shook his head. "In order to Apparate you need to have a very clear location in your mind of the place you want to go. If we cant even see this place then that route is out. In any case, we don't know what we would be Apparating through. It's foolish to go in so unprepared."

"Then what are we going to do?" Harry yelped desperately.

"We just have to find the door," Will smiled comfortingly. "And fortunately, I have just the tool for the job."

He reached down into a rucksack at his feet, and drew out a sheet of some sort of golden resin.

"What's that?" Harry asked.

"This is the Amber Spyglass," Will replied. "It once belonged to a good friend of mine, a scientist called Mary Malone."

"What does it do?"

"It allows us to see Dust," Will explained. "It's normally invisible to the human eye, but with this we will be able to see it."

"And that will show us how to reach High Brasil?" Harry asked dubiously. "How?"

"Remember, Mr Potter, that Dust originated at High Brasil and from there it flows around the planet, through an interconnected web of energetic lines. We call it the World Grid. It includes ley lines, great monuments - especially pyramids - which are built over vortexes, and is almost certainly the power source for your magic. Indeed, as a shaman, myself, I have learned to harness the energy to produce what you might consider magical effects. Yet I am no wizard and have no wand."

"Wow. What can you do?" Harry asked, fascinated.

"A little of this and a little of that," Will smiled evasively. "Perhaps one day, when we know each other better, we can discuss this further. For now, the only useful thing I have learned to do is to be able to see Dust, using the Amber Spyglass."

"You still haven't said how you will do that," Harry pointed out.

"It is relatively simple," Will replied. "All we have to do is circle the perimeter of High Brasil whilst looking through the Spyglass, but we will need to use one of the dinghies for that. Dust will be flowing out at some point on the border, it just always changes location. From there we will have our entrance point.

"That's when the hard part begins."

"Harry, go and fetch Sirius and Lyra," James instructed. "Will and I will load the dinghy."

Harry nodded and hurried off. He found Sirius and Lyra at the far end of the boat, huddled close together and talking rapidly. Harry slowed down and crept up cautiously as he reached them.

"Look, you know my history, including the part about Will," Lyra was saying firmly, but in a gentle tone.

"Yeah, but I thought that was in the past," Sirius argued back. "But now ... I don't know what to think."

Lyra stepped close and placed her hand tenderly to Sirius' cheek. "Then I'll tell you what to think. You have to accept that Will and I have both a past and a future, that has always been the case. But that future wont start until we are both long dead! Until then, I'm yours ... if you still want me."

"Of course I still want you!" Sirius rebuked hotly. "I know that you and Will have this destiny together in the future ... I just need to know I have your heart in the here and now."

Lyra sighed and smiled at Sirius. She looked almost amused at his insecurities. Then she stepped back and looked up at the sky. Harry watched her line of sight. There didn't seem to be anything there, until a pair of powerful, coal-black wings came into view and soared towards the boat. Harry watched in jaw dropping amazement as Pantalaimon flew around Lyra a moment ... then came to rest on Sirius' shoulder, before nuzzling at his cheek.

Harry, watching from behind a lifeboat, couldn't help but gasp. Lyra had let Sirius touch her dæmon! In fact, she had initiated it! Harry could barely stand to watch, knowing full well just how intimate an act this was. Oddly, seeing this display brought slamming home to him all the hidden meanings of his own contact with Hermione's dæmon.

And Sirius seemed to understand how monumental an act this was, too. He simply stared at Pan perched on his shoulder, his own expression utterly stunned. It was all the validation he needed, and Lyra didn't even have to say a word.

So she said one to Harry, instead.

"You can stop hiding now."

Harry stepped sheepishly out from behind the lifeboat, wringing his hands guiltily. "Sorry. I didn't want to intrude."

"It's fine," Lyra smiled. "Your Godfather and I were just clearing some things up. What do you need us for?"

"Will says we have to travel on in one of the life dinghies," Harry explained. "We're ready to leave now."

"Then lead on," Sirius chuckled.

So Harry did. Soon all five of them were being lowered down in the big orange lifeboat. Will gunned the engine to life and they sped off. Lyra was bestowed with the duty of using the Amber Spyglass, as it was reasonably assumed that she'd be the most likely person to spot Dust in the atmosphere.

"I cant believe you still have this!" she exclaimed to Will, pinning her eye to the sheet of amber. "You kept it all this time?"

"Mary kept it," Will corrected. "And when she died, she left it to me. This is the only use I've ever found for it, to be honest. Keep your eyes sharp. The Dust Stream might be very faint."

It took over an hour for them to find what they were looking for. Lyra yelped in shock as it first came into view, then she showed it to Harry as Will guided the lifeboat closer. It looked like the sort of beam of light that might come from a movie projector, only made up of millions of tiny particles. Harry watched them ebb and flow in drunken fascination.

"So that's Dust!" he whispered lowly. "It actually looks like dust. Normal dust, I mean."

Lyra laughed gently. "Yes, I suppose it does. That's where it gets the name from in my world. Here they call it Dark Matter, or God Particles, among other names. But I prefer Dust ... doesn't sound quite so sinister, does it?"

Harry nodded in agreement. The lifeboat moved ever closer to that stream in the sky, and when they reached the point where it originated, Will brought them to a stop and turned seriously to the others.

"Ready?"

Lyra replied for them all. "We are. But how will we get through?"

Swallowing like a guilty child caught with his hand in the cookie jar, Will reached inside his jacket and took out a long, slender knife. One side was sharp and shiny, the other more dull but radiating with mystical power that Harry could feel from across the boat. Harry had a dozen questions he wanted to ask about that energy, but the look of anger on Lyra's face held his tongue.

"Will! You didn't!" she hissed. "You cant ... you shouldn't ... you remade the Subtle Knife?"

Will closed his eyes. "I had to. At first I was fine with having broken it, but it chose me as the Bearer, Lyra. Dust chose me. And that bond is for life. I was miserable until I reforged it, with the help of some metallurgists in the fire-pits of Siberia."

"And did you ever use it?" Lyra demanded fiercely.

Will shook his head. "No. I still can, but every time I felt a cut in the air I heard your voice in my head, telling me off. So I kept the knife ... but I've never used it since we closed that window in Oxford."

Lyra huffed suspiciously. She wasn't sure if she believed Will or not, but she would have to put that aside for now.

"Can you open a window now?" Lyra asked.

"Yes."

"Explain something to me first," Lyra insisted firmly, giving in to her paranoia. "How do you know about High Brasil, if you've never cut a window to go there?"

"The Magisterium knows about it," Will countered. "And the parallel organisations here do, too. They guard the location and its purpose. It is the method they use to communicate between worlds. Messages carried by Dust. I have been here before to act as a Receiver. That's one of my hidden skills, Mr Potter."

Harry blinked at him. "You can communicate between worlds?"

"I can, and I am not the only one," Will replied, darkly. "Your friend, Thomas Riddle, is able to project his very essence along the Dust conduits. Only for short periods, but I understand this is a unique magical skill that he has developed with the help of the Magisterium in Lyra's world. One can only guess why he might want to do that."

"Tom Riddle is no friend of ours," James volleyed back firmly. "Now, shall we proceed?"

Will looked to Lyra as if for permission. She scowled slightly, before giving a curt little nod. Harry watched in astonishment as Will placed the Subtle Knife into the air at a point only he could see, breathed deeply with closed eyes, then simply sliced a way into another world.

"Cool!" Harry breathed, deeply impressed.

Will grinned at him, and eased the lifeboat through the window he'd created. Then he immediately stopped.

"Merlin's Beard!" Sirius exclaimed in shock. "Look at that!"

"There must be hundreds of them, thousands, even," Lyra hissed. "We'll never get through."

Harry, who had been trying to wrap his mind around the fact that they were now facing a lush green land with gorgeous trees and forests instead of the endless ocean, looked up at the sky. Blinking in shock at what he thought were low-lying thunder clouds, he suddenly realised that they were shifting and moving almost at random. That was when he realised it wasn't a cloud that he was looking at at all.

"Spectres!" Lyra hushed in low horror.

"And Dementors!" James added in a similar echoey tone. "I've never seen so many in one place before."

"There is no way through that," Lyra insisted. "We'll never make it."

"What do Spectres do, again?" Harry asked.

"They feed on the souls of adults," Will explained. "They consume Dust, and after adolescence we are resplendent in it. They fear the Subtle Knife - as it is one of the few things in existence that can harm them - but with this many ... I fear even the Knife will not be enough."

"And it would take the Patronus of all Patronuses to drive away that many Dementors," Sirius chipped in. "You'd have to redefine the boundaries of magic to conjure something like that."

"Then that's what I'll have to do," Harry told them in a small voice. "Because I am getting onto that island, no matter what it takes."

"Harry, you cant," James told him firmly. "It is far too dangerous."

"I didn't come all this way for nothing!" Harry yelled at his father. "And I'm not going home until I get what I came here for. You said the Spectres only go for adults, so that takes out half of the guardians. And I'll just have to take my chances with the Dementors."

"We can draw as many of them away as we can," Sirius told James. "Give Harry his shot."

"Paddy - I am not letting my boy go onto that island alone!" James volleyed back. "Out of the question."

"Harry will not be alone. I will accompany him on this task."

All five occupants of the lifeboat turned in shock to address the voice that had spoken from behind them. Harry nearly fell into the water in his surprise to see a sixth person sat there.

But it was Lyra who broke the stunned silence. "Serafina Pekkala! What are you doing here?"

"Ensuring that one of my destinies is allowed to continue," the beautiful witch replied. "Harry must save Hermione. And if the solution lies on that island then I will do everything in my power to see it done."

"What do you know about it?" Harry asked suspiciously. "What destiny are you talking about?"

"The very one that brought Hermione to this world in the first place," Serafina replied softly. "The one that brought her to you."

"You are involved with that?" Lyra asked in disbelief. "How?"

"When I was a young girl, my mother told me that I had many destinies ahead of me," Serafina began. "One involved you, Lyra. And another involved my ... great-granddaughter ... and her own adventure in another world."

Harry gasped in shock. "Hermione is your great-granddaughter?"

Serafina smiled and nodded. "We witches live to be many ages. I took a lover many years ago and together we had a son, but to be a witch is to lead a solitary life. I left my child in a basket on the doorstep of my former lover. I watched over him from afar for his entire life, watching his own family develop until they produced a daughter, the one I knew I would have to help in her own special destiny."

"Does Hermione know?" Harry asked.

"No. And I would prefer it to stay that way," Serafina replied. "I offer you my assistance now in exchange for your secrecy."

Harry shook his head. "I cant keep a secret like that, not from Hermione."

"Dont worry, we have a good Memory Charm that will make you forget all about this," Sirius grinned. "Just don't tell your mother. She might garotte me if she knew I was spelling you!"

Harry waged a fierce war in his mind. He desperately needed the help of this witch, and he supposed if he didn't know about her secret identity, he wasn't technically keeping the information from Hermione. It was dubious, but in the end Harry accepted the terms.

"Okay, alright. I'll do it," Harry began. "But I'm not happy that there's this huge part of Hermione's life that she doesn't know about. Is that why she's the best person ever in terms of magic? Because she gets it from you?"

"The link would certainly help her adroitness to magic, yes," Serafina mused. "But much of her talent is her own. She's a very special girl."

"You don't need to tell me that," Harry grinned shyly. "So ... what do we do next?"

"Hey, I haven't agreed to let you do anything, young man!" James piped up. "And nor am I likely to."

"Dad ... I have do do this," Harry implored, crossing the boat to his father. "I have to help Hermione. And Serafina will look after me. Right?"

"If by my life or death I can protect you, I will," Serafina replied with a graceful nod.

"See?" Harry went on. "I'll be alright. Please, Dad ... I need your help to do this. I cant reach the land without you."

James took a heaving breath and looked up Serafina. "You'll take care of my boy?"

"I will."

"Very well," James conceded. He reached into his jacket and drew his wand. Then he turned to Harry. "You remember the incantation?"

Harry took out his own wand and nodded. "Expecto Patronum."

"And do you have a happy memory to power the spell?" James asked.

"I have two," Harry grinned. "But I'm not telling you what they are because you'll tease me about them for the rest of my life!"

James laughed deeply and drew Harry into a bone-shattering hug. "No unnecessary risks, okay? You find this tribe, get them to show you the Book, then you get right out of there, clear?"

"Clear, Dad," Harry swore faithfully.

"Alright, let's do this. Will - head right for the pack. We'll draw them off. As soon as we get as close as we can, Serafina can take Harry to the island. Er ... how will you do that?"

Serafina Pekkala smiled at him. "In my world, Mr Potter, we witches don't need broomsticks to fly. You leave that part to me."

James and Serafina exchanged accepting nods, then Will kicked the engine of the boat to life once more. They sped towards the mass of dark greys and black that was the swarm above the island. Once they were half a mile from the shore, the Spectres and Dementors became aware of them. With an air-splitting screech of a thousand shrill voices, the mass turned and shot directly at them.

Will waited and waited until they could linger no more. "Go, Serafina!"

And she did, whipping Harry away at lightening speed. He couldn't believe how swiftly the witch could move. With him under one arm, she darted like a bullet from Spectre to Spectre, slashing and stabbing at them with her knife of cloud-iron. The Spectres shrieked and screamed as they fell, puffing out of existence before they hit the water.

But they weren't interested in the dæmon-less witch and the boy who they could not harm. They darted off in pursuit of the lifeboat, which Will had swung around and was speeding away towards the horizon. A surge of the Dementors had gone too, taking their miserable air with them. Harry watched as silvery shapes emerged from what he knew were the wands of his father and Sirius, scattering the Dementors as they closed in on the boat.

"Harry!"

He turned in time to see a flock of about fifty Dementors blocking their flight path ahead.

"The depression," Serafina moaned. "They are draining the very hope from me ... I cant ... I cant ..."

And her power seemed to be going with it. They were slowing and falling steeply, as if being in an airship with a puncture. Harry summoned his courage, and pulled one of his happy memories to the front of his mind. It was a simple image ... his name surrounded by a ring of hearts on Hermione's phone ... he let the warm emotion it stirred flow through him, from his chest right to the fingers of his right hand.

Then he raised his wand ...

"Expecto Patronum!"

Harry watched in astonishment as the sharp, powerful antlers of a huge stag erupted from the end of his wand and charged at the Dementors. They shrieked like golems and scattered in all directions. Harry found he was able to control the stag, targeting it at rogue Dementors who were lagging away from the larger groups.

Soon, a direct route to the shore had opened up. "Serafina! We can make it!"

The sight of the white sand galvanised the witch. Clutching Harry tighter still, she gunned them forwards through the gap faster than she'd flown before, as Harry used his Patronus to hold the Dementors at arms length. Within ten seconds they were slamming into the shifting surface of the shore. The Dementors seemed to know they were outmatched, leaving Harry and Serafina behind and heading back towards the flock.

"I hope the others are okay," Harry breathed as he watched the retreating wraiths.

"Are you okay?" Serafina asked. "You look very pale and clammy."

"It was the Dementors," Harry reasoned. "Did you feel that? Like you'd never be happy again?"

Serafina nodded. "And I hope never to feel it again. But come, we must get off the beach. These cliffs could be crawling with ghasts."

"Ghasts?"

"Feral creatures who feed on unwary travellers," Serafina replied darkly. "We must be cautious. Come along."

Serafina led Harry away from the shore. They were in a tropical sort of area; the white sands stretched away from them in an arc in both directions, the beach was lined with an avenue of palm trees that were swaying in the light breeze. Beyond the treeline stood an imposing range of sheer, brown cliffs and the horizon was invisible behind rolling green hills and mountains. Harry saw a splash of blue that may have been from a waterfall, and the late afternoon sun was hanging low in the sky, dappling it all in soft, golden light.

All in all, it was a paradise on Earth. Harry couldn't believe that there were any of the dangers lurking here that he was warned about.

They walked for hours through a changing landscape. The heat and beauty of the beach gave way to the ruggedness of the hills, the sandy shore becoming the detritus of a forest floor. And then, almost out of nowhere, the rain came. It fell incessantly, first in straight lines and then directly into their faces. The forest path became a slurry of sludge and several times Harry lost his footing and fell, cursing, into the deep puddles of sticky, smelly mud.

"We have to get out of this downpour," Serafina called through the howling sheets of rain. "We passed a cave back there. Let's head for that."

"I don't want to go backwards," Harry fired back.

"We may have to take a step back in order to take two forwards," Serafina replied. "I don't believe this rain is natural. We need to assess our situation. In any case, if you don't get dry you'll freeze to death. I do not feel the cold, but you do."

This Harry could see. Serafina was dressed only in ragged scraps of black silk and, for all the glamorous she looked, the weather didn't seem to be affecting her. Whereas the driving rain and icy winds were causing Harry's bones to rattle under his skin.

"Okay," he agreed reluctantly.

They backtracked for ten minutes until they found the cave Serafina had spotted. It was more of an opening in the rock face than anything, but it would shield them from the elements, so long as the rain didn't have a sudden change of heart and shoot in their direction again.

Serafina looked around for some wood to build a fire, but Harry just grinned at her.

"Your great-granddaughter taught me this trick!" Harry grinned, drawing his wand and conjuring a gout of emerald green flames, which filled the cave with warmth and cosy green light in an instant.

"I shall have to get her to show me that one day," Serafina smiled, sitting opposite Harry.

"So, you don't think this rain is a coincidence?" Harry began, as steam rose from his sopping wet jeans.

"No, I believe The Shining Ones are trying to thwart our progress," Serafina replied.

"But why?" Harry asked crossly. "Who are they? Or what?"

"They are one of the original Tribes of Creation," Serafina explained. "They came to this world with Dust, and they taught science and architecture, art and magic and divination. Some are red-haired giants, others are made purely of light so bright that to look at one is impossible. Some are humans who have ascended to become members of the Tuatha De Danaan.

"And this is their home, a paradise. The basis of the mythical Eden, where all things begin and end. Every answer can be found here, but every question also."

"That doesn't make a lot of sense," Harry frowned.

"It is not meant to," Serafina smiled patiently. "And understanding can take all the ages of man. But because of the promise offered here, men have sought it for millennia. For riches and power, knowledge and enlightenment, and the secrets of existence itself. It is why the Tuatha shield themselves so completely."

"Until this Magisterium thing found it?"

Serafina nodded. "You can surely see the heresy entrenched in such a place. There is no room in organised religion for the freedom of human thought and experience. Religion is a construct, one meant to divide and control. It does as equal bad as it does good. The Spectres brought the fallen Dust back to create them, using angels and prophets to give birth to repressive doctrines, punishing the greed and folly of man that created Dark Matter.

"So The Magisterium wanted control of this place, so that its ideas would not be challenged by an alternative way of thinking."

"So ... are the Tuatha prisoners here?" Harry asked in astonishment. "Restrained by the power of the Church ... because Hermione told me that's what The Magisterium would be called in my world?"

"It is entirely possible, but there may also be warring factions that fight for both sides," Serafina suggested. "We can only hope we find sympathetic ears first."

"Then what about the rain? Is that their doing?"

"I believe so. The Shining Ones can control all things - birds, beasts and the environment. We may have to battle nature itself as we try to progress to our goal."

"If that's what I have to do, then so be it," Harry sniffed, pulling his cold knees into his chest. "Hermione is worth it and she needs me. Or, should I say, your great-granddaughter needs me. This is the weirdest thing. How did it feel to leave your baby behind? Did you miss him?"

"It broke my heart, equally as much as Separating from my dæmon. Watching him grow from my distant position was so painful, but these are the trials a witch often faces. I outlived him, you know. He aged and died, yet I would have seemed untouched by time if I had appeared to my former lover at the funeral."

"That must be hard ... living so long that you lose those that you love, over and over."

"Which is why we love very rarely, even though we take many lovers in our lives," Serafina replied mournfully.

"But you love Hermione?" Harry asked.

"Very much. Which I why I am here, to help her on her path to destiny."

Harry stared hard at Serafina. "Hermione hasn't told me very much about that. Only that she had to come here and help me fulfil a great destiny. Does she know more about that than she's telling me? Do you know more?"

"We witches are very wise, and know a great many things," Serafina replied, evasively. "All I can tell you is that a prophecy was made to the witches about Lyra, telling us how important she was. Not just for the adventure she went on as a girl, but for her entire life. She is a special woman, too, and Hermione could not wish to have someone more capable in her corner ... or to have made a better best friend."

Harry blushed at that. "So ... is Lyra's fate tied into Hermione's? Was it designed that they should meet?"

"Not designed, but certainly encouraged," Serafina smiled knowingly. "Hermione has a prophecy to fulfil with you, and meeting Lyra was probably the only way to bring you two together. The rest is up to her ... up to you both."

"And we cant know what it is?"

"You will work that out for yourselves. I believe you have already started to understand."

Serafina fixed Harry with such an arresting look that he couldn't hold her gaze for more than a few seconds. His heart fluttered at the blatant suggestion in the witch's expression. He had to change this evocative subject.

"So, we need a plan," he stated bluntly. "We cant stay here forever."

"We have to wait until this weather improves," said Serafina, looking up at the black skies overhead. "You should rest. We will wait out this deluge and make a fresh start in the morning."

Harry went to protest, but a yawn hit the back of his throat at an inopportune moment. He nodded slowly and curled up by the fire, as Serafina moved to the cave entrance to sit guard.

---

The break of day also brought with it a break in the weather. The incessant deluge had slowed to a gentle drizzle for, as Serafina Pekkala pointed out, even demi-gods couldn't keep more water in the sky than it could hold. She and Harry trudged out of the cave into the pearl-pale morning light, picking their way carefully along the waterlogged path through the hills.

"I don't think I've ever been so dirty," Harry moaned, as Serafina helped pull his foot from a particularly deep puddle of mud. "This is disgusting!"

"The Shining Ones are testing you, trying to see your limits of endurance," the witch replied sagely. "Rain and mud are but the most basic of tools that they have at their disposal to foce you to turn back."

"Then you think things might get worse?" Harry asked with a cool shiver.

"I think we can almost guarantee it."

Harry gulped hard at the thought. "Miss Pekkala ... I'm sorry - are you a 'Miss'? What should I call you?"

"Serafina is my name. You may use that," the witch smiled in reply.

"Okay, well, Serafina," Harry continued. "If these Shining Ones are so powerful, why don't they just kill me? They are protecting all this knowledge, as you say, but I cant help but think that they are giving me a chance to find it. These are tests, rather than attacks."

"How very astute of you," said Serafina. "I can see why she likes you so. Intelligence will always seek out itself in others, and clearly you are on her level in that regard." Harry blushed at the obvious reference to Hermione as Serafina went on. "But yes, the Tuatha are giving you an opportunity to prove yourself. They guard their secrets covetously, but that does not mean that they wont reveal them to the worthy and the deserving. They simply protect them from those who aren't, from those who would use them for devious means.

"I think they know why you are here. It is up to you now, Harry, to prove your righteousness to them."

"I don't know that I'm particularly righteous," Harry murmured shyly.

"Are you here for your own purposes? Do you want to steal power and dominate people with it?"

"No! I want to save Hermione, that's it."

"Then you are righteous," Serafina explained. "To conduct a noble, selfless act - simply because it is right to do so - is the very definition of righteousness. The Shining Ones are now merely seeing how far you will push yourself to see this task through."

"I'll do whatever it takes," Harry returned stoutly.

But that task suddenly became a great deal more difficult ... and a whole lot bigger. For the Forest abruptly thinned, leading out onto a wide, sweeping plain that stretched far into the distance. Harry could see those waterfalls more clearly now, the sky blue glistening against the greens and yellows of the meadows that swept out away from them.

Though it was their immediate vicinity that was of greater concern. For this beautiful vista was pockmarked by massive holes. Harry and Serafina emerged into one of them, looking starkly up the sheer face of a trench easily ten-feet deep. Roots and vegetation had been torn up, and the rain had formed little pools into the five, abstract oblong gouges that poked out from the top of the larger depression that Harry and Serafina were standing in. She flew them out to stand on top of the ridge, and Harry saw that the pit roughly resembled a -

"A footprint!" Harry gasped. "A giant's footprint!"

He blinked in his astonishment as he looked out across the vast plain. The footprints moved away from them in an angular direction. The question was, where did the giant go? Or, as Serafina pointed out darkly, when was it coming back?

"We mustn't linger," Serafina warned. "Neither you nor I would provide much more than a snack for a giant, but I'm sure our bones would make for good toothpicks! Come on."

Serafina hurried them along between the massive footprints. Several times they heard deep roars from the rolling hills to the right, and flung themselves down into one of the trenches to wait it out. Then the rains returned and threatened to drown them if they stayed hidden.

So they took off again, wading through ankle-deep water as the torrent battered at them. Harry wished he'd learned some sort of rain-repelling charm from all his library sessions with Hermione. That would have come in dead useful. His bones rattled again against the wind, which seemed to be able to seep in through the very pores in his skin. He shivered violently against the cold, which felt like it was coming from inside him. He hoped running would keep his muscles warm, but the water was dense and sludgey and their progress slow.

And then ...

Boom ... Boom ... Boom.

At first, Harry stupidly thought a cannon was firing at them. He ducked involuntarily, but no missile was forthcoming. His second idea was that they were being hit by an earthquake, that perhaps the Tuatha De Danaan would rather destroy their own land than give him their secrets. But then Harry saw the real reason behind the deafening sounds.

For the giant had finally returned ... and he wasn't alone.

"Harry! Look out!"

Serafina called to Harry just as a massive foot slammed into the ground near him. The impact was so great that Harry was actually thrown into the air by the force of it. He splashed back down into one of the huge footprints, which were now small ponds dotted about the landscape. Harry flapped his arms as he tried to get his balance in the water.

Then he felt a thrill of terror rush through him ... for he realised that he didn't know how to swim.

"Serafina Pekkala! Help me!"

But she couldn't. Harry looked up to see that the thumping sounds weren't simply being made by giant footsteps ... but by giant punches, where one giant was thumping another as they fought for territory. The impacts were so ferocious that they were causing the air itself to wobble. Serafina had been clobbered by an errant elbow and was squirming gingerly close by, nursing a big bruise and a terrible headache.

Harry was mindless in his terror for the witch. She was helpless, vulnerable. The hulking giants were likely to step on her at any moment, squashing her into the mud or crushing her bones to smithereens. Harry scrambled to the edge of his pond, desperate to heave himself up to help her. He darted between the thick, tree-trunk sized legs pounding around him and hoped - to whoever might be listening - that he'd make it through this in one piece.

Then the heavens themselves split open.

Or, at least, that was how it seemed to Harry. An explosion of thunder tore the sky apart, causing even the giants to cover their ears and roar loudly at the pain. The sound hit Harry like a sonic boom, rattling his skull and making his ears ring like a bell. Dazed and disorientated, Harry managed to stagger across to Serafina and checked her pulse. She was alive, that was the main thing. Harry breathed in a sigh of relief.

Then he was blasted clear off his feet ... as a fierce bolt of lightening streaked down and decimated the sodden ground beneath him.

Harry was thrown back a good twelve feet. He landed in water again ... and immediately began floating away! Panic and shock surged through him as he flailed him arms in a futile attempt to stay afloat. For the lumbering giants had flattened the land so much that many had joined together to form a large scar in the earth, one that the rain had turned into a raging river. One that was now carrying Harry away at speed.

"Serafina!"

But she couldn't hear him. The rush of the rapids, the crashing thunder, those ferocious lightening strikes ... the world seemed to be at war with itself. Hot tears poured from Harry's eyes as the senseless fear overcame him a moment. He fell beneath the driving waters, emerging to splutter out throatfuls of muddy, gritty water. It was in his lungs, he could feel that through his laboured breathing. He was sucked beneath the powerful current again, falling deeper and deeper this time.

He was going to die. He knew it, almost as though it were the most certain thought of his short life. He wasn't going to see his Mum and Dad ever again, and they'd never know what happened to him out here. He'd drown in one of these deep gorges, and the mud would bury him, and he'd never be found.

But, worse even than that, he'd fail Hermione. The Mandrakes that Professor Sprout was cultivating might wake her up, and she'd rise to a melted mind, trapped inside her body. She'd exist in a vegetative state, like Neville's parents had, not knowing about what had happened to him, maybe not caring, as the basilisk had dissolved all memory of him from her brain. She wouldn't be able to think of anything ever again.

Harry's heart howled at the misery of the image. Hermione separated from her beautiful mind ... it was the worst form of punishment for being his friend that Harry could have inflicted on her. And there was more than that. There were all the things he hadn't said to her, all the cautious, shy things that he'd kept on the back of his tongue. About how he liked her the best of anyone he'd ever met, that time spent with her was never wasted no matter what they were doing, and how her coming across worlds to meet him was the best gift the world could ever have given him.

There were other things, too, but Harry hadn't even told himself those things yet, so he wasn't about to tell Hermione them in his final moments, regardless of their separation.

Then he had another, more chilling thought ... one he hadn't considered before ... separation.

It was a single word, but it coiled sickeningly in Harry's gut.

For he had no idea what had happened to Pap!

In all his mindless worry over Hermione, Harry hadn't considered what had happened to her dæmon! Had he been with her when she was attacked by the basilisk? Harry hadn't seen him anywhere in that shadowy corridor. Then the answer flowed into his belly like a slithering serpent ...

A basilisk only kills by a direct stare ...

Demelza had used a mirror ... Colin and Lockhart a camera ... Harry didn't know the details of Sally-Anne's Petrification, but he would have bet all the gold in Gringotts that it fitted the pattern. Harry had assumed that Hermione had been using her phone camera, but what if he was wrong. What if ...

Papageno had looked FOR her! ... and the basilisk had dragged him down into the Chamber of Secrets!

Harry felt a wave of senseless, angry energy course through him. If that was true, no-one would ever know! They'd never even be able to guess at Hermione's true nature. Neville was sworn to secrecy, and he might not put the pieces together anyway. Only Harry would know, and the basilisk would be able to torture Hermione's soul through Pap as long as she lived!

Well, Harry wasn't going to allow that ... couldn't allow it ... not while he had strength left in his body and life throbbing in his pounding heart ... and a dæmon of his own to call on!

"Marici! I need you!"

Harry felt the soul-deep shock of forced Separation tear through every particle of his being. If he'd had any breath under all this water, he would have lost it in an instant. The pain was mind-numbing, as though all his bones had been ripped out through his flesh and replaced with sharp, stinging fire. He had no voice to whimper, no tears to shed against the murky rainwater, but the deep pulsing misery was all-consuming just the same.

And then ... a pair of delicate jaws clamped onto the hood of his saturated raincoat and dragged him bodily from the depths.

Harry felt his head break the surface of the water like he was reaching heaven itself. He hungrily sucked in two or three lungfuls of wonderful air, spewing out dirty, muddy water as he came to life again. He kicked his legs hard, as his dæmon pulled him away from the surging water towards a shallower bit of ground nearby. Marici's powerful lioness body coped easily with the driving waters, as though defying nature itself to stop her.

Harry soon found his footing against the mud. Coughing and spluttering still, Harry hugged tight to the huge animal at his side, feeling the deepest of love flow between them, as she licked at his eyes and brought him to his senses again. He'd lost his glasses in the flood and could barely see.

"Don't worry," Marici purred to him. "I can see well enough for us both."

"Serafina? Can you spot her from where we are?" Harry breathed out.

"No, we've travelled too far away," Marici replied. "I thought we were done. You are so brave ... to force me out. I felt it ... felt the hurt. I've never known pain like it."

Harry tried to stand, but his knees were very unsteady. "Hermione did it for us ... so I had to do it for her. Forgive me, my love!"

Harry hugged into the thick mane of his dæmon, understanding innately why Hermione referred to Pap in much the same way he now thought of Marici. And that thought tautened Harry's attention.

"We have to go on, we have to help Hermione and Papageno," he declared as staunchly as he was able. "No-one else will know. We have to succeed."

"Can you walk?"

Harry nodded. "My legs are shaky as all hell, but I'm not going to let that stop me. Which way do we go?"

"We have to reach higher ground," Marici advised. "Even water cant flow uphill."

"Good idea," Harry nodded. "There are hills over to the right. We have to make it."

So they set off. Harry had to jump onto Marici's back to cross the speeding little river, but soon he was back to splashing through the waterlogged grasslands. Several times Marici had to drag Harry back before he fell into another footprint pool, and more times still Harry clung onto her fur as the thunder and lightening raging above frightened him unexpectedly.

"I'm glad you're with me," Harry whispered, as another spear of lightening caused him to jump close to his fiercely protective dæmon.

"As I am," Marici replied. "We can do this, Harry. Have faith."

They reached the foothills eventually. Harry was wetter than he thought he'd ever been, and the icy winds scorched against his thin skin. He huddled tight into himself and began scrambling up the loose mud of the hillside on all fours. The trees formed an effective umbrella against the storm, but the rocks and stones underfoot snagged Harry's sleeves and pierced into his flesh.

But he kept going. He had to. He focused his mind onto Hermione, her statue-like form lying in the hospital wing, and onto Pap, helplessly at the mercy of the basilisk and whoever was controlling it. It drove Harry on, was the fuel as he plunged his fist into yet another loose patch of muddy grit and dragged himself an inch further onwards.

And then, just as they approached a rise in the hill, Harry pulled himself over the crest ... and toppled down the sheer face on the other side.

Round and round Harry went, losing what little vision he had in a dizzied blur. He seemed to tumble for ages, and he wondered vaguely if he'd ever stop. But stop he did, colliding painfully with a tree stump and a dull sort of thud. Rubbing his scratched and flayed shoulders, Harry called out to his dæmon.

"Marici! Are you okay?"

"I'm here, Harry," came the soft reply. "But ... we're not alone."

Harry looked wildly around. There, on the other side of the tree stump, Harry could make out the silhouette of a figure ... a man, broad and powerful, but definitely human-shaped. Harry jumped up sharply.

"Stay back! Whoever you are!"

Harry backed close to Marici as the figure moved towards him. Then, something jutted out from it.

"I said stay back!" Harry shouted, angrily brandishing his wand in front of him.

But Marici butted her head gently against his elbow, urging his arm forward. "You are being offered something, Harry. You might want to take it."

Harry frowned in suspicion, but this was his dæmon, his very soul. He had to trust her. Tentatively, through his swimming vision, he reached out his hand ... and felt the unmistakable frame of glasses in his fingertips. He took them and jammed them onto his face. Perfect sight returned to him in an instant, and he saw a large, copper-haired man smiling at him.

"I believe these belong to you," the man began, his voice a deep baritone. "Welcome, Harry Potter, to High Brasil. I am Cúchulainn, leader of the Tuatha De Danaan ... and we have been expecting you."