12. The wrong Hermione and the wrong Harry

'Quite plausible. And if true, makes our job impossible.'

Isaac Edwards stood leaning against his desk in the midday penumbra of his Office on Hatton Wall. If anything he looked a bit cheerier than usual. Perhaps particularly bad news has that effect on him. Hermione's gaze drifted from Isaac to Argenta and Demelza, who had pulled up chairs and were sitting just to her left. They both looked rather perplexed.

'Do you want me to take minutes?' Demelza asked.

'Um … I don't know,' Hermione replied, rather disarmed by the question. Even though it was a perfectly fair one, she supposed.

In half a minute Demelza was back with a notebook. They do things the non-magical way here, of course.

'So …' Demelza began, once she had scribbled down several lines of notes on the page. 'What I've got so far is this: according to Hermione, the entire barrier between the magical and non-magical worlds seems to be slowly disintegrating and may already be full of holes.

There are probably far more potential openings to the wizarding world than just the seven Lillian Herrick claims to have found.

There is no known way of closing the holes or even finding them.

Isaac says that Hermione's theory is plausible, with the obvious conclusions to be drawn.'

'That about does it,' Isaac remarked.

'Still, we can't give up,' said Hermione.

'Oh, we won't give up.'

'Well, let's say it's true,' said Argenta, speaking for the first time. 'Why would it be happening?'

'Do you believe that the Separation is a real thing?' asked Hermione.

'I think it must be, yes,' Argenta replied.

'And the most plausible explanation of what we think it to be is kind of the sum of all magic?'

'A sort of intangible presence, but a very effective barrier,' put in Isaac.

'So why would it weaken now? What's changed?'

'Some wizards are bored of magic,' said Argenta.

'While people outside the wizarding world are more suspicious,' added Isaac.

'Exactly, which may be another strand to the Separation,' Hermione continued. 'Wizards and muggles are everywhere, but they're separated by their ability or inability to perceive magic. So muggles' inability to see magic and wizards' ability to prevent them from seeing magic is what keeps them apart.'

'So the barrier is under pressure from both sides,' said Isaac. 'Wizards are weakening it from one side and the witchfinders are pushing on it from the other.'

'Which is why there are more and more holes in the Separation, where the fabric of it has sort of grown thin and unravelled. Making it easier for Lillian Herrick to breach it,' said Hermione, her sentence rushing out and attaching itself to Isaac's.

'Although the door in Leftwich's shop, that really was once a gateway,' remarked Argenta.

'Yes, some really are gates, like Leftwich's and the Witches' March,' Hermione replied. 'But the others I've seen are more like places of residual magic that somehow went wrong. Like the grave of Louisa Kilham, who never knew she was a witch, or the yew tree in Ottery St Catchpole, which I can't account for at all. But who knows how many of them there are: seven, seventy or seven hundred.'

'Got all that?' said Argenta to Demelza.

'Of course,' replied Demelza, whose pen had already stopped moving.

'So what do you want to do?' asked Isaac.

'Well, the most important ones are the ones that Lillian knows about. So I have to keep on buying access to them.'

'With your own blood,' Argenta added. Hermione nodded.

'It isn't so bad,' she replied quietly.

'Speaking of Lillian Herrick,' said Isaac. 'We may have made some progress on identifying some more of her coven.'

'Really?' Hermione exclaimed.

He smiled at her, but it was the half-smile of someone not used to smiling.

'After what my cousin Simeon told us about his friend disappearing,' Isaac continued, 'we started trying to look for schools where pupils had disappeared or started acting strangely. Argenta unearthed a particularly interesting case at a school called the Greenfield School. It's in a west country market town called Totlingham. Ever heard of it?'

'Totlingham I've heard of,' said Hermione. 'There are wizards living there.'

'There's only one wizarding family, as far as we know,' said Argenta. 'And they're well integrated into the community. They'd heard about this missing schoolboy too.'

'Missing schoolboy?' said Hermione.

'I was just getting to that,' Argenta replied. 'Anyway, Isaac has spoken to the headmaster of the school.'

'And?' said Hermione eagerly.

'A little over three years ago,' Isaac began, 'there was an outbreak of interest in the occult, as the headmaster described it. Three students were particularly involved. One of them ran away from home and hasn't been seen since. The other two dropped out of school, but apparently still live in the local area. We're still trying to contact them. But the key detail is this: Lillian Herrick worked at the school.'

'My goodness,' said Hermione, her throat suddenly dry.

'We have a picture of the students,' Isaac continued, suddenly reaching into his desk and handing her a school photograph. 'I've ringed the students in question. You may have seen them before.'

Hermione looked closely, her heart beating rapidly. The three pupils marked out were a gentle-looking, but rather scruffy boy with dark brown hair, a studious-looking girl with black hair and glasses, and a handsome, but pallid boy with flowing dark hair and flashing blue eyes. Disappointment welled up immediately.

'I don't know them.'

She looked again at the picture. But I've only seen three of her coven.

'Which one disappeared?' she continued.

'This one,' said Isaac, pointing to the boy with flashing eyes. 'His name is Caleb Priestley.'

'And she was working there?'

'Just for a year. Very popular with the pupils. Moved abroad, so the Headmaster told me. Which we know isn't true.'

'I suppose the police investigated?'

'Apparently suspicion fell on some quasi-religious new age group,' said Isaac.

'New age?' said Hermione. 'Has the Seven-Pointed Circle ever been called that?'

'The group had nothing to do with the Seven-Pointed Circle, and denied knowing anything about the three students. Nothing else happened, and the trail went cold.'

'What are the names of the other two students?'

'Rachel Thirlwell and Justin Pole.'

'And you said you haven't been able to track them down?'

'We've tracked down their families,' said Demelza. 'But we haven't been able to speak to them in person. Justin Pole could be said to be missing too, as his family doesn't know where he is at the moment. They didn't really want to say any more than that. But Rachel Thirlwell's mother was more helpful.'

'Demelza interviewed her herself,' Isaac remarked.

'Are you allowed to do things like that?' Hermione asked.

'Not exactly,' Demelza replied, slightly embarrassed. 'Don't tell Will Gash.'

'Not likely,' Hermione replied firmly.

'She sees her sometimes. Rachel Thirlwell's mother, I mean,' said Demelza, her expression darker. She flicked through her notebook. 'I can read to you what her mother says.'

'Ok,' Hermione replied.

'I'm glad that someone is taking an interest in Rachel.' Demelza began. 'Everyone seems to have washed their hands of her. Goodness knows we've tried, but we can't get through to her. She almost never speaks to us, except to ask for money. We don't even know where she lives. She just comes home now and then, completely out of the blue. I'll be upstairs, and all of a sudden I'll hear the key in the front door — she still has her key. I know it's her. I hope for some sign of improvement, but each time I come downstairs and find her sitting on the armchair you're sitting on now, pale and thin as a ghost, and smirking. She always seems to find it all so funny. 'I'm sorry to be asking you for money again,' she says, 'but I don't have enough to last until I next get paid. I know it's demeaning, but I'm desperate.' Desperate, she says, with a smile on her face. I ask her what she's doing. She stares at me and says 'don't ask me that,' or 'you know I can't tell you'. I try to make conversation, tell her a bit of gossip, such that it is, and she nods, looks around the room or out the window. Eventually I give her the money and she gets up to go. Sometimes she seems quite apologetic as she takes the money and stuffs it into her bag. I give her a hug — she's so thin — and she hugs me stiffly back. Then she just slips out. Then she's gone again for the next few months.'

Demelza turned the page to a blank one.

'She said she changed really quickly,' she added.

'The Headmaster described Rachel Thirlwell as a very promising student, a really bright prospect, rigorous and very serious.'

The implication wasn't lost on Hermione.

'Caleb Priestley was also very bright, but rather troubled. Justin Pole was described as intelligent, but with some learning difficulties. Easily led astray, the headmaster said.'

'But do we know what actually happened?' Hermione asked.

Isaac nodded.

'Before the incident the three of them hadn't been friends. Then there was an incident in a class. Caleb Priestley was ejected from a class debate after it got out of hand. He had been making some very nihilistic statements, rather aggressively, and had particularly upset one of the other students, who had been arguing the reverse. The other student was Rachel Thirlwell. When the Headmaster subsequently spoke to her, she was oddly defiant, playing down the incident, seemingly defending this Caleb Priestley.'

'And this incident took place in Lillian Herrick's class?'

'That's right. After the incident the three of them suddenly became the best of friends. Then Caleb Priestley ran away and the other two seemed to go off the rails. Rachel Thirlwell's grades collapsed and both she and Justin Pole eventually dropped out of school. They claimed not to know where Caleb Priestley had gone.'

Hermione bit her lip.

'They're prime candidates to be members of her group,' she said finally.

'I would think so,' Isaac replied.

'It's interesting that this Rachel Thirlwell hasn't completely cut her ties to her family,' she commented. 'Maybe there's some hope for her.'

'Or it could be that this tormenting of the girl's family is intentional,' Isaac replied. 'But we'll keep trying to reach them.'

'Ok,' said Hermione. 'What can I do to help?'

'You've got enough on your plate as it is,' remarked Argenta.

'Yes, but I can't let you do my work for me,' Hermione replied, glancing at the time. 'Is there anything else?'

'One thing,' said Argenta. 'Mr Morley has summoned a meeting of all the top people in his 'Magic is Real' organisation, muggles and wizards. We reckon they're planning something.'

'She's lost the plot, man, I'm telling you.'

As if to emphasise his point Ron slammed his pint down on the counter and wiped his mouth. He's getting through that a bit fast. Harry took a more measured swig of his drink and turned to look at Ron. The stress was showing on his face. They had been through some talk about how much better things were now that Kingsley was back, and how Meredith Dulse, who had replaced Ron as keeper on the Gryffindor quidditch team, had joined the Holyhead Harpies on trial, but the conversation had soon shifted round to Hermione.

Ron had proposed they have a swift after-work pint in the vicinity of the Ministry, just the two of them, without the rest of the usual Auror crew. He had suggested a muggle pub, presumably to reduce the chances of being overheard or stared at.

It was standing room only; the two wizards were rammed up the far end of the bar, a young Audrey Hepburn looking down on them from a framed print on the wall. From the looks of the people around them, Ron had chosen the pub well: there didn't seem to be a wizard among them; just the usual young London crowd. On the other hand, this was the very pub Harry, Hermione and Armin had drunk in the night he and Hermione returned from France; Armin's bookshop was scarcely a hundred metres away. To Harry's knowledge Ron had never met Armin or been into his shop, although he knew well enough where Harry had worked during his lost year. The subject was still one best left alone.

'I can see it's taking a pretty serious toll on her,' Harry replied. He still wasn't sure how he was going to play this. He wanted to tell Ron to get a grip, that this was Hermione, that of course the threat was real, all of it: Lillian Herrick, the witchfinders, the Citadel too, although it was less clear to him than ever how they fitted into the picture. But that was just what Hermione didn't want him to do.

'Mum's getting quite worked up about it,' Ron added, once again reaching for his drink. 'Thinks I should confront Hermione.'

'You know what I think about your Mum, Ron, but is she the best person to advise you?'

'You're right, she isn't,' Ron replied. 'I'd rather you advise me.'

At this Harry took a larger swig.

'Do you really think you could convince Hermione that she's wrong?' Harry asked.

Ron looked glumly at the counter.

'No. I wish you could.'

Harry gulped. This is it. The proper lying's going to have to start.

'Do you think I still have that sort of influence over Hermione?'

Ron looked even glummer.

'No, I guess not.'

Harry patted him on the back, though he scarcely knew why.

'Harry,' Ron began, a changed look on his face, 'did you…'

'Did I what?'

'Did... anything happen between you and Hermione?'

Where did that come from?

'Ron, there's never been anything between me and Hermione. I thought you knew that.'

'I don't mean like that,' Ron continued. 'I mean what made you and her… you know, drift apart?'

'No, there was nothing specific,' said Harry. 'But Hermione's not exactly… accessible these days.'

'Tell me about it.'

'So where do you think this is all going to end?' Harry asked, in an attempt to steer the conversation back to where it had started.

Ron gave him his bleakest look yet.

'In St Mungo's, man, that's where I think it's going to end.'

'Really?'

'Really. Sometimes I think I should go up to her office and burn all her materials on the Seven-Pointed Circle.'

I bet I know who's put that thought into your head.

'Ron, seriously, can you imagine what Hermione would do if you did?'

It didn't bear thinking about. If anything was going to push Hermione over the edge, that would. He resolved to do whatever he had to in order to prevent it.

In the meantime Ron had finished his pint.

'Another one?' he said, turning to Harry. Harry still had a third of his to go.

'Nah, better just make it the one.'

'Ok,' said Ron. 'Maybe I'll get some pork scratchings, or peanuts. I love these muggle bar snacks.'

'Ever tried a pickled egg?'asked Harry with a wink.

'A pickled egg? Can't say I have. D'you reckon they do 'em here?'

'Sadly I doubt it,' Harry replied.

'I'll go and see what they've got,' said Ron, looking around the bar. Harry was just about to take another mouthful of his pint when he felt something move in his pocket. He looked down and eased the pocket open: a small piece of paper was in the process of folding itself up, first in two, now in four, now in eight. Harry looked around: Ron was ordering his bar snack, so he pulled out the note and unfolded it.

Sorry to do this again: I'm going to enter your dream tonight so we can talk. I'll choose a more appropriate place this time. H.

In the dream Harry had paced his way from the main entrance of Hogwarts, to the Great Hall, then up to the Gryffindor common room and back out the doors into the grey night. The sky seemed to shrink from him as he went down from the gates, across that part of the school grounds that dropped away from the castle walls, down towards the lake.

The pebbles were uneven under his feet, the water motionless before him. It was a comforting thought that the towers of Hogwarts were at his back. The lake and all around it were silent and the moon was even vaster and brighter, sparkling faintly on its surface like a pale sun. The sky looked as though a snowstorm was about to begin. It was cold, and he was pleased to find that he was wearing a jacket, which he zipped up as high as it would go.

As he looked down the beach he could see a lone figure standing some way off, looking out over the water. A moment later the figure was gone. He set off over the pebbles towards where the figure had stood, his footing slipping on a number of occasions.

'Harry, wait,' said a voice behind him. He stopped dead and turned. Hermione. She was wearing a grey jacket, with a dark green scarf wrapped around her neck. Her eyes inspected him shyly. The cold weather seemed to have got inside her. She didn't reach out to embrace him, or even to touch him.

'I like your choice of meeting place,' he said. 'But did you have to make it so cold?'

'Sorry, it seemed more natural for it to be this way.'

'Yeah, you're right, sort of.'

The meeting felt strangely awkward. He wondered if that was because it was fake or real.

'Anyway,' she added, 'I like coming back here.'

'Life was simpler then?'

'Something like that.'

'I thought we weren't supposed to be speaking.'

'I know. I promised myself I wouldn't do this.'

Her tone was surprisingly deadpan. I thought I was supposed to be used to the act by now.

'Do you have to be so hard on yourself?'

Something glimmered in her eyes.

'Yes I do. I can't allow myself to enjoy this.'

He scrutinised her, trying to glean whether she was entirely serious.

'If you like, we can keep this strictly to an exchange of information.'

She looked at him firmly.

'I don't like it. But we do need to share information.'

He decided he would play his usual role too.

'Fine by me.'

'There's one thing we should do first.'

'What's that?'

'Prove it's really us.'

'Ok.'

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the silver ring she had given him.

'You asked me to find some way of showing it to you. I didn't get a chance yet.'

She smiled for a moment. He offered her the ring, but she shook her head.

'No, you can keep it for the time being.'

He nodded and put it carefully back in his pocket.

'You should ask me now,' she said softly.

'Oh, ok,' he replied, trying to think of what to ask her. He glanced down at her wrist.

'Good idea to ask me that,' she replied, obviously seeing what he was thinking.

She smiled then lifted up her arm so that her sleeve slid back down towards her elbow. The wrist was pale, slim and bare.

'I always wear it.'

Just at the point where her sleeve had slipped down, the skin on her arm was torn and scabbed. Harry reached out and gently took hold of her forearm.

'Is that what I think it is?' he said, his eyes fixed on the scar.

'Oh that,' she replied. 'Yes, that's what she's doing to me. I mean — that's what I'm doing to myself.'

She looked up at him sadly.

'Is it worth it do you think?'

There was weariness in her eyes that he had never seen before. It was almost terrible to see. He looked up from her scarred arm to her sharp, morose eyes.

'You would never be doing this if it wasn't absolutely necessary.'

She sighed and looked out over the cold lake. Then she looked back and returned his gaze, her arm hanging limply by her side, pale and thin in the chill air.

'I think that's true,' she murmured. 'I'd better keep going to the bitter end.'

'It won't come to that. It didn't last time and it won't this time. You'll see.'

'You were given a reprieve,' she said, looking at him strangely. 'That was only possible because you were free of guilt. But I'm not. I'm up to my eyes in it already.'

'You're too harsh on yourself.'

He reached out and took her by the arm. She looked down at his hand where it gripped her between wrist and elbow. Then she looked up again. Her gaze was opaque.

'Do you feel bad about yourself, Harry?'

'Yes.'

'So do I,' she replied, with the smallest of smiles. Then she slipped out of his grasp. 'I've put you in an impossible position.'

'I agreed to this.'

'Yes, but I don't think we realised the consequences.'

That's probably true.

'Ron has been a bit off the last few days,' he said suddenly. 'Ever since we went to Threshold Island.'

She looked at him with interest.

'Did something happen there?'

'Nothing apart from interrogating the prisoners.'

'Do you think he suspects something?'

He shrugged.

'I don't know, I went for a quick drink with him this evening. He said he's even thought about destroying all your materials.'

Her eyes gleamed with interest.

'That I'd like to see.'

'Anyway,' Harry continued, 'What is there to suspect, really? This is all for their benefit anyway.'

She leaned a little closer to him.

'Maybe the others can see it after all, no matter how much we try to hide it.'

'I don't know,' he murmured. 'But when your scar bled, Ginny noticed that. Mine weeps sometimes.'

'Weeps?'

'Yeah. It did a little tonight as I was going to bed. Some sort of liquid leaks out of it. Not blood though.'

'That's strange,' she said. 'Maybe it's out of sympathy.'

'I don't know,' he said again. She's a bit mawkish tonight.

'By the way,' he continued, 'what happened that day in the woods? Why were you holding my wand? Or something that looked like it anyway?'

For a moment she seemed to be in a reverie.

'The Many are Warned put it there.'

'Right,' said Harry, looking a little bemused.

'It was done using the Circle,' she replied, her eyes glinting with interest. 'It was a nice little demonstration of what it can do.'

'So that was Lillian Herrick as well?'

She half-shrugged.

'Somehow it wasn't her style.'

'One of her minions then.'

'Or someone else entirely. There are others who can use the Circle.'

'What, do you think that the Many are Warned was somehow genuine?'

Suddenly her eyes froze in concentration.

'Someone's coming,' she said, her gaze still elsewhere. 'It must be Ron.'

Instinctively Harry looked around. The shoreline was empty.

'Not here,' she added. 'In the house. I'm going to have to go.'

The Black Lake had a pink hue with the moon and sky reflected in it. If he looked around he would see Hogwarts rising up behind them on the hills above the lake. There might be lights in the towers. But even if there were, behind the walls the castle was empty.

'Are you staying here?'

Her voice was insistent.

'No,' he replied distractedly. He didn't like it ending in that way.

'Goodbye then, Harry.' She looked at him sadly and reached and touched him gently on the arm. The next moment she was walking away. He listened to the sound of the pebbles beneath her footsteps growing fainter as she walked away along the line where the water gently lapped against the shore. Finally she disappeared altogether from the water's edge. He took one last look up at Hogwarts. What a piece of work. She had even gone to the trouble of putting lights in the towers.

She stood on the shore, waiting to see if he would come. I shouldn't be doing this. Conjuring a note in his pocket now struck her as ridiculously risky. She wouldn't have considered it if Caius hadn't mentioned that Ron and Harry were going for a drink after work.

She pushed her hands deeper into the pockets of her coat. It felt cold, genuinely cold. Does that mean I'm getting better at this? She had never seen the lake so still. The sound of footsteps on the pebbles stole her gaze from the water's surface. I'm not going to allow myself to touch him.

'Hermione?'

She went towards him then stopped, waiting for him to reach her little stretch of beach. As he came close she started to reach out her hand. Am I that weak willed?

'Hi,' she said, in a voice that struck her as unnatural.

'Hi,' he replied, just as stiffly. 'I thought we weren't supposed to be speaking.'

He doesn't look very happy.

'You're right. I know I must seem completely inconsistent after what I said to you last time. You might even suspect that I'm not who I say I am.'

He half-sniggered at this.

'Well, the thought did occur to me.'

'Quite right too. Do you want me to try and prove that it's really me?'

He ran his fingers through his hair and made a futile attempt to flatten it at the back.

'I can tell you're really Hermione.'

She couldn't help smile a little.

'How?'

'You're keeping your distance. Trying to stick to the terms of our pact. If she were impersonating you she'd be trying to get closer to me. Make what we're doing seem more guilty.'

She felt herself smile again. But it was a sad, feeble smile.

'You're right, she'd like that. Quite apart from the fact that the guiltier I feel, the more powerful I become in the Circle. She wants me to get more powerful. More like her. So I'm afraid I'm going to be really dull and business-like tonight. It's the only way I can justify this to myself.'

God knows I feel guilty enough as it is.

'I understand,' he replied, possibly a little disappointed. 'I'm not going to get upset about it.'

They looked at each other in silence.

'You're making progress, aren't you?'

'Sort of.'

'I bet you're being modest.'

'I don't know. Although I have found some things out about her. But to tell the truth, it's as much Isaac and Argenta as it is me.'

His face darkened a little.

'They get to help you. How am I supposed to help you, Hermione? Give me something to do.'

She shot him a rather pained look.

'I don't know, Harry. I understand you want to help, and I'm glad you do. But it would almost be like a form of cheating.'

'I won't insist. I don't want to upset you.'

'Thanks.'

'All I can do is try and read up on the Seven-Pointed Circle whenever I have time on my own. That way I at least sort of have the feeling I'm helping you.'

'That's bound to be useful.'

He hung his head.

'I don't know how much longer I can keep this up.'

Don't say that, Harry.

'I mean, has it come to this? It seems like dreams are the only place we can meet these days. Sometimes I can barely remember why we're even doing this.'

She touched his arm. I don't care; I can't let him lose hope.

'Harry, don't give in now. Maybe circumstances will change somehow. I want them to change. But for now there really is no other way.'

'You mean: we've dug our grave, so we'd better lie in it.'

She couldn't summon a reply. The image was a little hard to stomach.

'Is it not worth considering,' he continued, 'that maybe it would be better if we just told everyone what was going on?'

She frowned at this.

'What, do you mean tell everyone we've been pretending all along?'

He exhaled irritably.

'Well granted, that's probably not the best approach. We could say that you came to see me as a last resort and showed me all the evidence you'd found about Lillian Herrick and the witchfinders, and that you'd convinced me after all that we all need to work together to stop them.'

Her scarf had started to unravel, leaving her neck half-exposed. Feeling the cold on her throat, she reached down to wrap it back around her. Her hand was trembling slightly, she noticed.

'It would pretty much mean going back to square one. Back to the old problems. But more than that, it would be based on a lie.'

'I see what you mean, of course I do. But even so, everything would be out in the open.'

Oh God, are things starting to unravel?

'I … I'll give it some thought.'

He stuffed his hands in his pockets, a slightly downcast expression on his face.

'So what was it you found out?'

'Um … we think we've identified three more members of the Circle.'

His eyes widened with interest.

'Wow. That's significant.'

'Again, it was Isaac and Argenta that did all the detective work. Even Demelza. So I can't take any of the credit for it.'

'I have to admit I'm jealous of them.'

'Harry, stop.'

Her voice was low and breathless, as if she scarcely had any more energy to speak.

'Sorry, you're right. What are you going to do about them?'

She sighed again.

'I don't really think I can do anything about them. I don't want to fight them and I seriously doubt that there's anything I could say or do to make them leave Lillian. But if I can understand why she chose them, maybe I can understand better how she works. I have to do anything I can to arm myself against her.'

He reached out and touched her arm. When she looked at him there was a distant look in his eyes.

'I suppose there's no way of reasoning with her,' he said gently. 'She must be genuinely insane.'

She laughed emptily.

'That's just it. She isn't. There's something strangely reasonable about her. Sometimes I almost think she's sorry about what she's doing. And yet that's exactly why she continues. It's like she has to do wrong.'

His fingers were gripping her arm a little too tightly, digging into her skin through her coat and sweater.

'And drag you down with her.'

'Yes, but I have to keep going no matter what. What I don't get is whether I'm supposed to defeat her or lose to her.'

He looked at her sadly. Tiny flakes of snow seemed to hang in the air around them.

'I can't help you there,' he said at last. 'I can't get near enough to you. If I could maybe I'd help you find a way to deal with her. Save her or destroy her, whatever has to be. Like you said.'

She reached out her hand to touch his. Just for an instant.

'You will help me before this is all over.' Then she lowered her hand.

He smiled to himself.

'Promises, promises.'

She looked at him quizzically, not quite grasping his meaning. He's not quite with me. I think this might claim even our friendship.

'It's cold,' he said. 'Even imaginary cold is cold.'

She nodded.

'I don't even know if it's by accident or design.'

'I should stop encroaching on your sleep,' he said suddenly. 'We should both get some rest.'

'Are you sure?,' she replied. She wasn't quite ready to let him go. 'There are other things we haven't discussed.'

'I think Ginny's stirring,' he added, taking a step back. 'But we can do this again. In another creation of yours. If you really want to, that is. I'm not all that useful to you at the moment anyway.'

She wanted to respond, but he was already gone. She stared into the space he had just left empty, wondering if he would fill it again. But nothing moved: the snowflakes seemed fixed in the air and the water didn't break on the shore.