.

So far... The reborn Hermione launched the secret Cathesis League to fight Ministry corruption and Black Arc members, and Crest defensive training at Hogwarts where she is now in her second year. Ron rescued Padma from Macnair. She and Hermione were healed by Cadence. As a Potions teacher, Hermione is forbidden a romantic relationship with Harry. Neville challenged Draco to a deathly duel to take place one year hence. Now read on...

.

Chapter 65

A Coming Together


.

More Than Friends

Harry Potter stood beside the statue of the humpbacked witch on the third floor and adjusted his invisibility cloak before tapping on the stone head. "Dissendium," he whispered, and his thoughts flew back to when Hermione first brought him to Hogwarts through this secret passage from Honeydukes.

He'd scarcely finished the incantation when the hump swung open, and now the boy's mind cast forward to the one he hoped awaited him below. With a last quick glance around, Harry clambered inside the statue and heard it closing above him as he slid eagerly down the chute.

"The ruse worked well," murmured a gentle voice. "Did you remember to cast a Notice-me-not spell on your bed this time – then walk the long way round to throw off anyone following your invisible scent?"

Harry grinned. "Yeah, Hermione, I think by now everybody in Hogwarts is hearing we've broken up with each other before they'd even learned we were... you know, uuh... together?" His smile yielded to uncertainty and concern. "But how long before we can show ourselves as... well, at least as friends again?"

"Fade the aggravation away over a few weeks, I suppose," mused Hermione with a shrug. "But remember, no cuddling or even holding hands in public places."

"We're not in a public place now, Hermione," said Harry slyly.

The corners of Hermione's mouth twitched and she raised an eyebrow. "You're growing up faster than in my old life, that's for sure."

Harry closed the gap between them and she received him with a wonderful rush of joy. This simple hug transcended their kiss in the owlery, for here there was neither shock nor the haste of impending danger. They nestled quietly together for a while, lightly moving and sighing against each other – her dream fulfilled at last; he still scarcely believing he could be so loved.

"Hermione... just set my stupid mind at rest – you're uumm... we're erm... serious right? I mean, will you be my girlfriend now, even if nobody can know?"

Hermione, who had waited over a century to hear such words from Harry Potter, trembled against him, and couldn't speak for a while.

Harry mistook her silence for doubt. "Only if you're sure of course."

"Harry... how can I–"

"It's alright if you don't – well, not alright, but you know..."

She sighed at the misunderstanding. "Harry, do you know the most precious thing I own? Not only in this life but through most of my earlier life?"

She drew Lily's woolly wrap from her bag, and breathed upon it so the rainbow colours shimmered in the moving air.

Harry observed the effect closely. "You mean I gave you Mum's shawl in your other life as well? So we were–?"

"–No, sadly we never shared our feelings. And that's why I'm more forward with you this time around. I'm not waiting till it's too late again; life's so very short."

Harry considered Hermione's words for less than a moment. "Then you're not my big sister anymore? You'll actually be my girlfriend?"

"Can't I be both?"

The shawl's softly yielding folds were crushed between them as their lips touched, the fabric's colours intensely vibrant and alive to their passion. He detected a fragrance too elusive for anyone less close; she responded to the ardour that finally drove him past his nervous hesitation.

When they parted, Harry bashfully looked away to distract himself from the intensity of Hermione's shining gaze. "Bit dusty down here ... I suppose we could cast a scouring charm..." With a shaking hand he tried, but found his mind too full of happiness to include anything as mundane as a spell.

Hermione's attention could fall only upon the edge of his flushed cheek and the back of his head. A moment arose – when someone is present yet cannot know they are being considered very closely – that is both intimate yet detached and free. It focused her mind intensely. He was just Harry again, yet more vivid, more real – perhaps because of the decades of her yearning imagination. His presence absorbed her complete attention.

"Where did you learn to do that?" she whispered.

"Do what?" He did not look round.

"To kiss so... you touched the tip of my tongue with yours."

"Did I? Oh, er... didn't think. Sorry."

"Who told you to do–"

"Nobody!

She saw the angle of his jaw tense as his tone relented to add, "I erm... read it in a M–Muggle book."

That Harry had studied such a subject made Hermione smile and wonder if it had been for her that he'd researched kissing, and what else had he learned? Her eyes followed him as he walked off a couple of steps and badly aimed his wand at several dirt heaps, mumbling irritably, "Scurcify... Scarcify... Scourgafly"

She giggled softly at his lovely awkwardness. "Oh, we can't use this place regularly – the twins know about it."

Harry jerked around to stare anxiously up the stone chute, as if expecting to see Fred and George grinning down at him.

Hermione smiled. "They won't be coming here today."

"How can you be sure?"

"They're trying to undo magic on a prank I played on them – good luck with that because it wasn't magic I used – except in application." She held up a well-squeezed tube of superglue. "Glued their shoes to the handrail as they were sneaking up the girls' stair with a box of dungbombs."

"They were climbing along on the handrail?" gasped Harry.

"They daren't call for help, and if they can't find a solution within a couple of hours, everyone will be waking up and catch them red-handed – or should I say, 'footed'."

"They'll just slip out of the shoes."

"I glued their socks to the shoes."

"They'll pull out of their socks!"

"I glued their feet–"

"–NO – WAY! Harry absorbed the image in his head then succumbed to laughter. "They'll love it, you know – being outpranked."

"I know. But we have to get back within an hour to wake up along with everyone else – and free Fred and George of course – maybe..." She chuckled quietly to herself as she tried to make up her mind.

Harry nodded. "So... if not here, then where can we meet and talk and... uuh, be with each other?"

"We'll search the castle. Hopefully we can find a place."

"The Room of Requirement."

"No – too many Crest members in Room 4J at any time – come on, get your cloak back on and let's start looking."

Without hurrying, they ambled around the castle, peeking down little-used corridors and through mysterious, unknown doorways. Despite their high hopes, only smelly store cupboards and empty classrooms were found – and rejected.

"Once or twice should be safe enough, but eventually someone would find us," moaned Harry.

"So..." said Hermione, her crafty grin lost to invisibility, "you're planning a long-term relationship?"

Harry pulled her under his cloak for a long cuddle. "Only till erm... beyond the end of time."

"Oh, Harry, that's so swee–mmm..." She didn't have a chance to ask him if he'd read that in his book.

.

The Ties That Bind

Days of fruitless exploring passed where the only spaces that Harry and Hermione thought even worth a look were an upper dogleg-bend in a disused and very sooty chimney and a tiny bathroom down a forgotten corridor – both of which they rejected with a sniff and a sneeze.

Naturally, they'd gradually revealed their true actions and affections to their five most trusted friends, while apologising for the deception and explaining it was to gain their natural reactions for all to see. Luna 'knew' of course, and Ginny suspected – or at least, hoped. Ron was relieved to learn there'd be few more public quarrels. Olive, well Olive became rather thoughtful at the apparent breakdown and subsequent reunion, and turned aside to reminisce.

Alarmed, Ron stepped towards her. "What's wrong?"

Startled from her reverie, she said, "Oh, nothing. It's just... it reminded me of my own separation from someone I still care deeply for, that–"

"–Aah..." Ron's face tightened. "I suppose it's only natural you'd still think about him – them"

"No, no – it's a girl – an old friend!"

Hermione said, "You mean Myrtle Warren, don't you?"

"We were all cursed. I regret that Irma and I are alienated from Myrtle, but she's still annoyed at me, I think." Olive looked speculatively at Hermione for a few moments. "Could you help?"

The recollection of Hermione's last meeting with Myrtle and her abrupt dismissal of the ghost in the Prefects' bathroom after Neville had been injured by Umbridge, caused Hermione to cringe inwardly. Yet, brushing away a frown of doubt, she agreed to go with Olive and provide some moral support at least.

They made their way to the library at the first opportunity – the last weekend in May when most everyone was outside enjoying an improvement in the weather.

"Madam Pince," Olive began formally – for there were one or two students passing within earshot of the checkout counter, and rules were rules after all – "remember before Easter when we spoke about a reunion with Myrtle?"

The librarian nodded. "I've been think more about it myself lately. Are you free now? It's so quiet today I can leave my assistant in charge."

Olive smiled and nodded.

Together, the three of them walked apprehensively out and along the first-floor corridor, somehow wishing that the toilet which Myrtle haunted had been at a greater distance. All too soon, Madam Pince was leading the way inside. "Myrtle?" In the gloom and squalor of the disused bathroom, the once-stern librarian's voice trembled slightly. "Are you here?"

"What do you WANT! – oh, it's you two – and YOU!" The squat ghost glared at Hermione as she glided out through a cubicle door. "Well?"

Hermione took a step back behind the other two.

"I'm here to apologise," Olive said quickly. "I should not have teased you. I never realised how much it hurt. I'm sorry."

"Humph!"

Olive squirmed. "Can't we be friends again? At least you and Irma here. You and she were always close."

"Not for fifty years!" shrieked Myrtle, rising angrily up towards the ceiling. "You never visited me once! I HATE YOU!"

"And yet..." Irma Pince was suddenly mindful of the ghost's attire. "I see you're still wearing the butterfly brooch I made for you."

"Aah..." Myrtle's spectral hand went instinctively to the precious jewellery clasped on her robe. Very gradually she began to drift down amongst them once more.

A single tap dripped in the silence that followed.

Olive softly murmured, "I'll never forget you told Irma she was the very best of friends. Only Tom's dark magic blighted our happiness and kept us apart."

"Please don't let him win, Myrtle," said Irma, and the older woman anxiously wrung her hands at the thoughtful stare returned by the apparition.

"His supporters couldn't possibly have provided him with the fellowship we enjoyed," said Olive. "Let him remain jealous in whatever hell he now resides for murdering you."

"That boy was horrible," wailed Myrtle – without breath, yet the dim candlelight shivered as though in agreement.

"It was all his fault," said Olive.

"Tom Riddle destroyed everything we had," added Irma, watching the ghostly girl's expression very carefully. "Made us all victims – you especially, Myrtle."

"He did, didn't he?" said Myrtle.

"But it's not over really, is it?" suggested Olive, hopefully.

And Irma added with a new firmness, "We're all still here."

"Still friends..." Olive murmured.

"Always," said Irma.

"Always..." repeated Myrtle, and there was a tone of wonder in her voice, as though she was noticing something long since forgotten. Indeed, the face of the ghostly schoolgirl was lighting up for the first time in long years.

Gradually, Myrtle thawed and was drawn in by their comments. For most of the next forty minutes or so, the three of them reminisced while Hermione kept mostly back in the shadows observing.

"It's sad that you're homeless, Olive," said Myrtle. "Where will you live when you leave Hogwarts? And what will you do with your life?"

"Mr Weasley has been trying to find my sister-in-law, but I never knew her... I just don't know. I can't think what I'll do when I leave school. I never had any career ambitions like you, Irma." she added, trying to redirect attention away from herself. "Will you try for a Ministry post now you're free?"

Madam Pince looked unsure. "Hmm... these days I love the library like I used to when I was young, and and helping the children is so rewarding. Anyway, corrupt Ministry attitudes would greatly hinder any career prospects I might have had there."

"But, Irma, you always dreamed of working to improve the Magical community!" cried Olive. "In the fifty years I've wandered the castle, you've so often had a book open on politics, or law or – I mean, you've never lost your interest! You must know more about the workings of the Ministry than almost anyone."

"Which is why I've turned against working there."

"But don't you want to change them anymore?" cried Myrtle, who had been inspired, uplifted by the most interesting conversation she'd had in decades, and in which she felt herself treated as an equal.

"How? The system is dominated by upper-class arrogance, not ability. Take Miss Granger here; she's one of our most diligent students, but her ancestry would count against her at the Ministry."

Hermione goggled at the librarian. "I never knew you held such views, Madam Pince! What if there are others who share your vision? – Jop Gair and Adam Brown for instance. They write to Ministers and to the newspapers, making others aware of new, forward-thinking opinions and attitudes. Together you could make a difference without working directly for the Ministry."

"I know of Gair's work of course. Perhaps... yes, perhaps I might write to him, exchange ideas... Why, Myrtle, what are you smiling about? You look radiant! Will you travel further from this dull chamber in future? Visit the Great Hall and the library at least?"

Myrtle's features were indeed shining, even more translucent than ever. "Yes, there are so many who wish to talk with me – I had no idea! And this bathroom is so bright now it reveals the ugly cracks and hard edges."

"Bright?" the other three exclaimed almost together.

Hermione said, "Myrtle, where is the light coming from?"

"Why, up in that corner, of course – see?" And the ghost gazed upward in a kind of rapture, her hands clasped before her upon the butterfly brooch.

"I know that light, Myrtle," Hermione whispered into the confused hush that had fallen upon the group. "Follow where it leads. You must."

"Yes... yes, I should go now..."

The others watched as the increasing brilliance that was Myrtle Warren ascended into and through the dark shadowy cobwebs to leave behind forever the bathroom in which her embittered soul had confined her.

"We'll miss you, Myrtle," cried Olive and Irma.

"Not for always," came the fading but joyous reply. "I'll be waiting for you..."

.

The New Seeker

The month of June brought the promise of even warmer weather – though many days were to pass before that assurance was fulfilled. The end of the school year would bring other changes too.

"We must find somewhere before the last day of term," hissed Harry out of the side of his mouth to Hermione as the common room filled with students returning from the final class of the day.

"Ideally, we need a sealed room that no one else can enter or even know about, otherwise word will get back to Professor McGonagall sooner or later." Hermione's faint whispers were near inaudible amidst the noise.

She looked around. "Grab that last comfy chair on the other side of Dean, and I'll sit behind you at the table so we can talk without being together."

Harry nodded, then rushed as he saw Seamus heading the same way.

"Oy, watch out, Harry," Dean said good-naturedly as Harry almost trod on his foot in passing.

Harry wasn't listening, but once seated, he twisted about slightly to catch anything Hermione might murmur to him.

"What did he say?" Dean was asking Seamus.

"Who?" Seamus glared mildly at Harry for beating him to the seat then slumped onto the arm of Dean's chair.

"Wood, of course!"

Hermione said softly, "Harry, once we find somewhere, you can always excuse yourself because of the noise in here – I mean to go do homework some other place."

Harry did indeed have to strain to hear what she was saying, what with Luna and Neville still performing their soppy princess-and-devoted-knight game ahead of him, and Ron with Olive talking on his other side, not to mention Dean and Seamus raising their voices above the hubbub. Fortunately, Hermione mouthed a repeat of what she'd said, and Harry tried to give a nod too tiny for anyone else to notice.

Seamus shrugged. "Oh, yeah, Tenbreigh finishes Hogwarts end of this month."

"...then wilt mine enemies bend the knee, and I shalt grant thee a boon beyond all boons," Luna was saying to Neville.

"So Wood'll be trying out new Seekers in September?" said Dean.

"I love boons," mused Neville.

Seamus nodded. "Hey, Harry, will you be trying for Seeker next year?"

"Eh, what?"

"Seeker," said Ron. "Yeah, you gotta great chance of making the team."

Harry looked thoughtful. "I'd love to if... if I can find time to practise. Yeah, I might... yes I will."

"You can't," said Luna. "Ginny's already been–"

"–Shush!" cried Neville, craning his neck to make sure Ginny was still at the far end of the common room talking to Katie and Angelina.

"Oh, is it a secret? I don't think it is," said Luna.

"Well they were keeping quiet about it."

"He's got to do trials, Wood has," said Dean quite firmly.

Luna said, "Andrew asked Oliver two days ago and they spent a few minutes throwing–"

"–Andrew Kirke?" he's rubbish at–" Hermione closed her mouth quickly as she realised the memory of Kirke's poor Quidditch performance was from her former life.

"How do you know?" frowned Dean. "I didn't think you liked Quidditch."

"Ginny said he was very good," said Luna. "I think all that Crest practice has sharpened his reactions – I suppose it's snatching wands out of the air, that sort of thing."

"So how come Ginny...?" said Seamus.

Luna smiled. "She joined in to help Oliver collect missed golf balls he was throwing for Andrew to catch on their broomsticks. She caught so many before they hit the ground that Oliver noticed, especially when she flew in and caught one before it even reached Andrew!"

Ron and Harry yielded to laughter and drew in everyone with their merriment.

"So you heard then?" Fred and George were coming over. "We were the ones who pushed Ginny forward to help." George winked. "Subtle or what?"

"The ruse nearly failed though," added Fred. "Kirke was better than we knew – better than you made him sound, Luna. He was rather upset. Bit like young Harry, here." He ruffled up Harry's hair to his annoyance even though the result didn't look any different than normal.

"You can still ask for a try-out, Harry," said Dean.

Harry shook his head. "Not if Ginny's been accepted."

"Only informally," said Neville. "And provisionally. Probably why Wood's not announced it. He'll decide in September whether to do formal trials."

"Still... Ginny's a close friend. I won't get in her way."

"You fancy her or something?" grinned Seamus, glancing over Harry's shoulder.

"NO! uuh..." Harry resisted looking at Hermione while everyone was watching. "Mmm... maybe... Actually, she's really cute and growing up fast. Her long red hair's beautiful, and when you look deeply into her eyes she's ... she's ... she's behind me, isn't she?"

"HARRY!" shrieked Ginny, and flung her arms around his neck with a loud whisper, "Sit with me at dinner?"

"Oh, well, erm... yeah, uuh... love to."

"Come on then. It's nearly time and we can walk slowly and talk and... you know..." She nudged his ribs with her elbow.

Ginny grabbed Harry's hand, and drew him away towards the exit amidst hoots and catcalls from many as they also began preparing themselves to meander down for the evening meal.

.

The Last Toast

"Ginny, I..." began Harry, as she, still clutching his hand, was an eager half-step ahead and swinging her arms and hips to express her joy.

"Isn't it wonderful! You and me?" she cried, so loudly that her voice echoed cheerfully along the corridors as though searching for anyone that might hear.

"Listen, it's not what you think."

"I understand completely, Harry. You've been keeping your feelings hidden."

"Mmm... the fact is..." He stopped dead in his tracks pulling Ginny to an abrupt halt. "The truth is I like Hermione and was only–"

"–only encouraging the rumour that you'd finished with her." Ginny's voice had lowered to a conspiratorial whisper, adding, "Of course you're Hermione's." She giggled softly then guided him along to the nearest stair. "But you still owe me dinner."

The Great Hall was curiously lit when they entered. A tired sun was slowly sliding down from view, and its light now illuminated only the tops of the high windows, especially those whose glass was stained. That luminescence did not reach the habitable area below, but instead caused the upper reaches of the opposite walls to glow a soft stony yellow. The silence and emptiness completed a cathedral-like impression for the two friends who then walked almost reverently to their place at the bare table of Gryffindor with their backs to the western wall and those splendid windows above.

Harry stared at the other tables before them, and murmured, "Strange to be sitting down for dinner and see nobody else in here."

"I've been thinking," whispered Ginny, for it seemed to her a curious sacrilege to raise one's voice higher, "did you and Hermione..."

"What?"

"Did you and Hermione have any children in her other life?"

In the relative gloom, Harry's eyes whitened in surprise. "Hermione and I weren't together, Ginny."

She nodded slowly and a light smile told Harry that Ginny had suspected as much and was testing him. "Us then..."

"What?"

"Luna was working it out. Hermione has made it very clear we were all friends before. Haven't you ever wondered why she won't tell us much about our personal lives – how we died and so on? Hermione was shocked when Luna and I went to Beauxbatons, so that probably never happened before. It means Luna and myself would now be first-years, not second. And she said the Hat tried hard to sort her into Ravenclaw so perhaps Luna and Neville wouldn't have... you know, got together."

"Mmm... so, erm...?"

"Olive surprised Hermione too – she clearly didn't know who she was, remember? I think Olive would have grown up normally and been in her sixties by now and never met Ron."

Harry nodded slowly as he absorbed Ginny's contemplations.

"So, that leaves... us," she finished.

"Us?"

"Harry, what if it was you and me – suppose we were married with children of our own? What happened to them? Did they stop existing when Hermione started this new life?"

High above the Slytherin table, a ray of sunlight reached the edge of a polished wall sconce and its sudden gleam held Harry's attention as he jerked upright in his seat, gripping the tabletop in response to his young companion's fears. "Ginny! We all died early, remember? And all Magicals were dead before Hermione came back. It was over. The world itself was dying."

"But..."

"Ginny, you must never ask Hermione this. She suffered enormously, that I do know. We all did. Don't ask her to reveal the horrors she wishes to remain hidden."

Ginny twisted up her mouth in mild protest but said nothing, merely nodding slightly in resignation that Harry was right. A few other students were beginning to drift into the Hall so the conversation turned to other topics.

"Lavender said Parvati won't be back till next term." Ginny reached out for a goblet of pumpkin juice when drinks and other appetisers began to appear on the tables. She took a few sips. "Her family need time to adjust to Padma's return. Luna thinks–"

"Forget what Luna thinks!" snapped Harry. "Sometimes she's too smart for – she's not spoken to anyone else?"

"Course not!" Ginny put her goblet down with a clunk. "You do realise Padma was found the same night that Hermione and Ron were gone?"

"Ginny, please!"

"And not all that far from where you live, Harry. What if–?"

Harry's irritated sigh cut her off. "Just forget about it, Ginny. I trust Hermione and I trust Ron. If they were involved and want to keep it secret then we must respect that."

"Shush! Here they come."

"You were the one who–!"

"Shush!"

"You two lovebirds falling out already?" scoffed Fred as he took his usual seat beside George further along the table.

"Yes!" hissed Harry.

"No!" Ginny glared at her brothers. But she winked at Harry.

Ron and Olive arrived and sat on the other side of the table to face them. Luna and Neville headed towards Ginny's side.

"Neville, sit opposite Harry," whispered Ginny.

"But I want–"

"It's just for a minute!"

Luna pushed him on his way and sat herself next to Ginny before gazing dreamily at the sunglow up on the opposite wall.

As the Hall filled, the food began to appear, and the students reached forward to fill their plates with delicious roasts and vegetables.

"Not yet, Neville," sang Ginny in a low lilt.

"But I'm hungry."

"It's just for a minute!"

"That's what you said two min–"

"–Ah, here she is," whispered Ginny. "Well come on then, Neville!"

"What?"

"Why aren't you sitting with Luna?

"But you said–" He sighed then clambered out from the bench and walked around.

Hermione frowned in the doorway. Malfoy had just passed, vaguely murmured, then gave her a curt nod and made a beeline for his usual place at the Slytherin table. Why's he never rude when Harry can see him?

The only remaining seat near her friends was the one opposite Harry that Neville had vacated, and she took it with mixed feelings: pleased that she could turn her back on Draco, but unsure of openly sitting close to Harry before they were sure McGonagall would no longer be suspicious. At least being on the other side of the table is not as intimate as side by side, thought Hermione, and no one can say it was deliberate.

Ginny broke into Hermione's reverie, "Me and Harry were talking about the summer holidays."

"We were?" blinked Harry. He felt a nudge in his ribs. "Oh, yeah, holidays. What's everyone doing?"

Olive's eyes lit up. "Ron's asked me – well, Mr Weasley really – to stay with them!"

"Yeah, but it was me what asked Dad," said Ron, scooping mash high to make room for sprouts. "Though he was thinking of asking anyway."

"How strange..." mused Luna, eyes filled with sunlight but dish still empty.

Hermione said, "Did he find Mrs Hornby yet – your brother's uumm... widow?"

Neville said, "What's strange, Luna?"

"My brother's wife moved to Europe years ago." Olive looked thoughtful as she waited for the gravy boat to sail her way. "To be honest, I'm wondering whether to ask him to leave it at that. She'd be a complete stranger to me, and I wouldn't want to live in an another country."

"It's shiny like the rock," said Luna. "Black and shiny. Sings in my head too."

Olive half rose to her feet ... then sank slowly down again. "You heard it as well? It was so soft and hazy, I thought I was only remembering it."

Hermione craned sideways to stare at them both. "I thought I heard a murmur near the doorway when I came in. What did you hear, Luna?"

Luna's eyes rolled up dramatically and she uttered a softly hissing breath, "Joinnn ussss! Join us nowwwww!"

"Something like that anyway." Luna sat upright and began to spoon cauliflower and cabbage onto her platter.

"What's going on?" said Harry with a puzzled frown.

Hermione's head jerked left and right, searching for the source and to see if anyone else had heard Luna.

"Oh, I wouldn't gaze round if I were you," said Luna. She draped a lank cabbage leaf over a pale-faced floret and squealed with laughter. "Look – it's Mr Snape," she explained darkly, then laughed some more.

"He's using Legilimens? Can't be..." said Hermione.

Luna looked up from her caricaturesque cauli. "Not him – Draco's new chalice." She sighed. "I suppose it's magical."

With enormous effort, Hermione refrained from turning around to look. Ron was preoccupied with his meal, but Olive glanced quickly back.

"What's it look like?" said Hermione. "Someone describe the chalice to me without staring at it."

Harry said, "Same as the one he had in first year – jet one side and silver the other. Might even be the same one repaired."

"And, Ron, you definitely saw Draco pick up a chunk of that black rock by the pool in the dome? How big a piece?"

"Yeah, size of a small club – it's hard but not heavy like stone mostly is."

"Probably is similar to jet then. But jet is derived from organic material and–"

"–It's what?" said Ron.

"Living tissue compacted under immense pressure. I hate to think what the–"

"–The first true life made by Magic," grimaced Olive, and she laid down her knife and fork while staring mournfully at her roast beef. "Not all would have escaped through the Gates."

Neville squirmed. "You mean they were consumed by the blue sludge?"

"Makes sense," said Hermione. "The mud's excrement would have sunk to the lowest levels and been compressed over a billion or more years into that black rock only to resurface when water seeped in to form the pool and drove away the ooze. Somehow it retained remnants of magical consciousness. It wasn't the mud we heard in our minds, Olive, but the black rock reaching out to us."

"So Draco drinks from that crap?" scoffed Ron, digging cheerfully into his fork-squashed sprouts.

"No," said Luna.

The others waited until she continued, "He only drinks from the silver side."

Hermione ached to look around and scrutinise Draco and the goblet, but she refrained. The eyes of Harry, Neville, and Ginny did flick up.

Luna, who had still not selected what to eat with her cabbage, said, "A light toast, I think."

"Princess, this is dinner, not breakfast," smiled Neville.

"No, Draco's... ever so slowly and silently he's raising his drink to you, Harry."

"Luna," said Hermione, "how do you observe so much while looking at the ceiling or a stain on the floor?"

A peel of laughter escaped Luna's lips. "I don't look at the ceiling, Hermione. I only think at the ceiling. How else can I decide what to eat with my greens?" And she finally began to serve herself.

"Luna's right," said Harry. "I think Draco is furtively saluting me. Why? And why didn't he want anyone else to notice?"

"Maybe he was only showing you his chalice," said Ginny.

"Showing off his chalice more like," said Neville. "I'll take him down next year, don't worry – him and his... dark chalice," and Hermione could see a grim, steely look in the boy's eyes, quite unlike how he'd been at this age in her former life.

Hermione surveyed the others: Luna and Ginny advanced beyond their former years with Ginny not shy at all, and Luna no longer isolated but steered still by her sensible mother's love; Ron more serious and mature, thoughtful and reliable; Harry less burdened and so much happier, maturing into leadership with less hardship. Yes, if trouble was coming, they would all be more ready to face it.

And the larger picture? Hermione's eyes lost their focus as she pondered what was to come. Dark influences at the Ministry slowly being eliminated without attracting attention – yet. The seeds of Magical-Muggle interaction and cooperation planted, being watered, and already sprouting great promise. Yes, thought Hermione, I have cause to be hopeful.

"Hermione?" whispered Harry with a quizzical smile, "you've gone away again."

She laughed softly. "It's alright, Harry. I'm still with you. Everything's fine."

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To be continued...

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—oOo—

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Author's Notes

That ends Book 2 – but remember, the fic is only temporarily marked 'Complete' and will continue. This chapter was one of the hardest for me to write, probably because there was nothing too exciting but only necessary ideas to introduce. Because of the delay, you might suppose I did nothing for weeks then rushed it – nothing could be further from the truth! I worked at least a few minutes every day. One has to be patient with creative writing and keep at it no matter how slowly it comes out.

Oriyehuda pointed out that Harry has been diminished, made less able – pushed too far into the background. This is true and not really intended. It was just a natural consequence of other events, particularly Ron's necessary prominence in this book, and Hermione's (and Draco's) protectiveness of Harry. There will be more Harry in Book 3.

Many thanks for all comments and reviews. These are most welcome and very encouraging. Let me know of any weaknesses or faults – I'm always trying to improve my writing so feedback is really useful. :)

– Hippothestrowl

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