Light, incessant snow drifted and swirled and curled in the air, driving merrily past the windows of Ice Station Zebra and settling thick on the trees and bushes outside, flecking the anbaric survey equipment that stood dormant in the rear yard with a powdery dusting and making everything look like it was lit with the soft white light of another world.

Hermione watched it all through the large window of the kitchen, as she waited for the kettle to come to the boil. She wondered what sorts of tests the equipment would be used for today, curious as to which bit of atomcraft or atmospheric phenomena was on the agenda for the Scholars on this snowy morning. She sang quietly to herself as she waited for the kettle, humming the catchy chorus line to the current Weird Sisters hit ('Baptise me with a Goblet of Fiyaahhh!') that sat at the top of the charts back home.

That was a curious thought to have, she mused absently, that she should consider the world of Harry and Hogwarts as 'home' now. Of course, she wasn't insensible as to the main reason why, but it was still a little strange to think it all the same. After all, here she was making the day's first cup of tea for herself and her mother, and all she could think was about how nice it would be to be sharing it with her in front of the fire in the Gryffindor Common Room, rather than out here in the desert of snow and ice.

For they had been in the wintry wilderness of the remote research station for over a week now, since Lyra had brought Hermione back through the portal with the Mandrake Restorative Draught safely in her bag. Hermione's parents had been revived in little under an hour, the emotional reunion lasted a little longer, and the explanations took longer still ... and Hermione hadn't even gotten to her apologies yet. That was on her agenda for the morning ... she just needed to decide which one it was best to start with.

So she focused first on making the best cups of tea that she could manage, hoping that they might lubricate her guilty pleas for forgiveness. In fairness, her parents hadn't seemed angry or cross with her, but this subdued, resentful shame that Hermione felt for herself was pressing on her chest, demanding to be satiated. She wouldn't be content until she'd dealt with it.

She took her tea cups and made her way through the research facility. It was surgically pristine here, and extremely bland for the being so, despite the exciting studies that were conducted all around them. Hermione frowned at that, thinking it would be better to celebrate and revel at being at the forefront of such frontier research, rather than being brisk and business-like about everything. But that was just how the Scholars seemed to prefer it, so who was she to tell them otherwise?

Everything here was made of metal; shiny surfaces of stainless steel gleamed in the fierce glow of small anbaric lights, set high in the crooks where the walls met the ceiling, and the entire facility was awash with a sort of low-level humming from the generators and equipment that would drive you mad if you didn't get used to it double-quick. That was if the heavy smell around the place ... a sterile, medical sort of aroma ... didn't get the job done first.

The doors were all motion activated, with little red lights that turned green when they permitted access, and shaped like the cartouches of hieroglyphs found in the ancient African Kingdoms. They slid open with a little hiss of warm air, and made Hermione feel as if she were walking around bowels of a deep-water ship, rather than an advanced scientific facility in the middle of nowhere.

Hermione found her way back through to the Communal Lounge, which was equally as stark and characterless as the rest of the place, despite being the central socialising location of the complex. Hermione simply assumed that the minds of Scholars worked differently to those of regular people, and that they must see indulgent comfort as illogical, as something that distracted from the pure pursuit of academic discovery.

It was an idea that Hermione could understand, even if she would never dream of trading in her feather mattress just so she could find out how it was made.

The door to the Lounge hissed open and Hermione stepped carefully over the raised threshold, eager not to spill so much as a drop of tea onto the white-tiled floor. Then she looked up and chided herself.

"Sorry, Dad. I didn't realise you were up," Hermione apologised as she placed the tea mugs down in front of herself and her mother. "I can go and get you a coffee, if you'd like."

"No, that's alright," David Granger smiled. "I'll just pinch a bit of your mother's!"

"No you will not!" Catherine Granger rebuked, pulling her mug covetously out of her husband's reach. "Go and get your own if you want one."

"In a little bit ... Beau's only just settled down."

David looked down at his lap where his dæmon, who was called Beaujolais, was shifting as she dozed. She was a tawny-coloured rabbit with big, floppy ears, which were right now being licked and preened by Rampula, his wife's prim little fox dæmon. He was such a trim, slender little thing that Hermione had thought for the longest time that he was a she, as the dæmon looked more vixen than fox, but her mother explained that sometimes animals (both dæmon and not), like people, didn't always conform to standard expectations.

And it was the expectations of dæmons that they were discussing as Hermione entered the room with the tea.

"She still doesn't feel right," Catherine frowned, as sure and knowledgeable as if she were talking about her own dæmon. "Has she started speaking to you yet?"

"No," David sighed in his concern. "It's not as if she's closed off either, like if we'd had a row or something. She just doesn't seem to be thinking anything. It's like all the lights are on but she's hiding under the bed."

"What are you talking about?" Hermione asked as she sat down. "What's going on?"

"We aren't sure," Catherine replied. "But ever since we woke up from our long sleep last week, our dæmons have been acting strangely. They are very quiet, both in terms of speech and in our minds. Pula seems largely alright, but he never was the liveliest dæmon to begin with."

"But Beau seems very off," David took over. "She hasn't spoken a word since we woke up. Her mind is switched on, I know that much, but it's like she's gone mute. I don't know how else to explain it."

"Is there anyone you can talk to about it?" Hermione asked, anxiously. Her parents concern was very deep and very real. "Lyra maybe? She knows lots about dæmons, stuff that most people don't. Perhaps she can help."

"We have been talking to Lyra about it," Catherine confessed. "And about you, of course. I'm starting to like her, you know. She cares for you a great deal, and I'll sleep soundly knowing that she's looking after you on this great adventure."

"Yeah, she's fierce," Hermione grinned, sipping her tea. There was a opening to grovel that she had to grab. "I'm sorry, Mum. I've never said it but I am."

"Sorry for what, honey?"

"For going away," Hermione mumbled. "I just upped and left on a whim, not thinking how it would affect you and Dad. And I never imagined that it would stretch to this."

She gesticulated pointedly at their out-of-sorts dæmons, which included Pap, as he was nowhere to be seen. Where was he today? He was getting very artful lately, never telling Hermione where he was going. She'd have to tell him off when she saw him.

"I never thought how what I was doing might get you into trouble or danger," Hermione ploughed on while her nerve was up. "I was really selfish, and I'm sorry for that. I hope you can forgive me, or that you don't feel too badly about me over everything."

Catherine smiled as she got up and crossed to her anguished little girl, eager to ease her agitation.

"Hermione, listen to me," Catherine began, sitting next to Hermione and taking her hand in both her own. "You are our daughter, and we love you very, very much. Nothing but the most heinous of crimes could make us stay angry with you for long. And this isn't something like that, is it?

"What you are doing is brave and exciting and strange ... it's extraordinary, really. But then, you are extraordinary ... you always have been ... so we shouldn't be surprised that the Fates have delivered this future into your lap, should we? So no more of this moroseness, okay?"

"Okay," Hermione grinned coyly. "Thanks, Mum."

Hermione gave her mother a one-armed hug, before Catherine returned to her own seat.

"So," Catherine began. "When you came home to us last year, you seemed pretty sure that this boy you met at school was the one the alethiometer predicted you would find and ... well ... all the rest of it! So, are you still convinced? Is this Harry Potter the one?"

"No, no, I don't want to hear about this," David tittered lightly. "It is too early in the morning for talk about boyfriends. I haven't even got a coffee to wash down that particular pill with!"

"Daddy!" Hermione giggled sweetly. "I haven't got a boyfriend, alright? Harry and I are just friends. Promise."

"Well that's something, I suppose," David replied teasingly.

"But for how long?" Catherine chipped in, baitingly. "I want you to tell me all about this special boy in your life ... I wont talk to you about anything else for the rest of the day if you don't!"

"Hmm, an unhappy alternative lies before you, Hermione," David told her, peering over the rim of his spectacles in jesting seriousness. "For the rest of the day, you must be a stranger to one of your parents. Your mother will not speak to you again, if you do not tell us all your juicy stories about Harry Potter ... and I will not speak to you again, if you do!"

"Oh, David!" Catherine cried in a laugh, as Hermione hooted away across the table from them. "Stop being such a dusty old prude!"

"He's such a snowflake, isn't he, Mum?" Hermione sniggered away. "All soft and fluffy. Speaking of snow, I think I'm going to go out for a walk in it. Is that alright?"

"Yes, but don't go too far from the station," David warned her. "Who knows what could be lurking out there in the woods."

"And be careful out near that pond over the ridge, there's no telling how thick the ice is over there," Catherine added.

"I will, I don't fancy a swim today anyway!" Hermione replied, cheekily.

After finishing her tea, Hermione spent about half an hour getting into her cold-weather things. She pulled on her thickest jumper under her big fluffy coat, stepped into the very unflattering wolf hide leather trousers and heavy boots, before pulling on her pink woolly mittens and the hat with the flaps that came down over her ears.

Lastly, she reached under her pillow and pulled out the cosy scarlet and gold Gryffindor scarf that she kept hidden there. It had once belonged to Harry, and Hermione had 'borrowed' it last year just after she'd been suspended from Hogwarts, and she hadn't gotten around to giving it back just yet.

The truth was, she didn't want to give the scarf back, even though she felt a tinge of guilt for the theft. It still contained the faint, unmistakable scent of Harry, and Hermione found the aroma cosy and comforting, which is why she kept it under her pillow and smothered her face in it every night before she went to sleep.

Besides, Harry either didn't seem to notice that it was missing, or didn't mind that Hermione had taken it. Whatever the explanation was, Hermione had the scarf and Harry was going along quite merrily without it ... so Hermione was happily content to keep it with her for as long as she could.

One thing Hermione didn't seem to be able to keep with her, however, was her errant, adventurous dæmon. Papageno seemed to getting more and more independent all the time, often going whole days without being around her. At the moment, with her parents demanding so much of her time, Hermione didn't see this as a problem, but she did wish that Papageno would at least tell her where he was going when he went for one of his wanders.

His latest expedition took up most of the Hermione's morning, she as tried to locate him by following in his slipstream. She spent a good couple of hours moving around from room to room of the research station, scouring the three floors above ground as well as the four that were beneath the surface, but to no avail. Papageno was evading all of Hermione's best efforts to find him.

"Where can he be?" Hermione huffed crossly, as she held her hands to the glass and peered out through the dark observation window of the lowest floor of Ice Station Zebra, which was deep under the ice and looked out across a vast ravine of sharp, bright blue crystal shafts, that lined the shoreline of an underground lake at the heart of a vast, vaulted cavern.

There were places Papageno couldn't be, of course, for the Station was full of restricted rooms and chambers, where all the delicate scientific studies were taking place, and then there were places he shouldn't be, like store cupboards and other bedrooms. There were also places that he would be downright stupid to be, like the dangerous septic water tanks, or around near the charged wires and cables and domes of the array of powerful anbaric generators that provided energy to the Station.

But after her search inside became fruitless, Hermione was left with just one conclusion.

"He must be outside, which is where I was going in the first place!" Hermione scowled, cross because she was very hot and sweaty, having been running around the hot Station in all her thermals. She was pretty convinced that she would likely die of humiliation if Harry ever saw her dressed like this, trussed up like a human-shaped inflatable balloon with pink mittens and a woolly hat, but she couldn't even conceptualise the shame that she'd feel if he smelled her like this, all musty and naturally fragrant from her exertions ... the mortification might be enough for Hermione to consider throwing herself from the roof of the Hogwarts Astronomy Tower!

Hermione was still chuckling to herself about this when she made her way to the exit of the Station. There were two sets of doors here with a little compression area between idea behind this was to create a sort of bubble between the freezing temperatures outside and the needs of the Station staff within. This way, they wouldn't lose so much heat when people were coming and going throughout the day.

Once the outer doors had opened, Hermione pulled her hat down tight over her ears and stepped out into the snow. The icy wind smashed into her like a slap to the chest, despite all her many levels of clothing. It took a moment to adjust, to allow the cold air in her shocked and heavy lungs to filter into her blood, without freezing her where she stood. Hermione stomped her feet and clapped her mitten-covered hands together to get some circulation going, then moved off into the ankle-deep drifts of the ever-falling snow.

It didn't take long for Hermione to find what she was looking for. It may have been snowing, but the main causeway leading to Ice Station Zebra was an avenue lined by Scots Pines and Canadian Spruces, with the research complex hidden away in a dense forest of the same genus, and they created a canopy that absorbed much of the downfall from above.

On account of this, Hermione was quickly able to locate the shallow remnants of footprints ... ones distinctly cat-shaped. She chuckled to herself ... Papageno may have settled in a permanent form that was best-suited to blending in, once they'd reached Harry's world, but Hermione often wondered if he ever regretted picking a species of cat that was so heavy-footed and bandy-legged.

And Hermione didn't even want to get started on that squashed face that he had chosen for himself! The amount of times she'd had to explain to her dorm girls at Hogwarts that Pap just looked that way ... and that he hadn't just run headfirst into the nearest brick wall, well ... if she'd collected a Galleon for every time she'd given that excuse she'd be well on the way to becoming a very wealthy witch!

Giggling away to herself, Hermione followed the trail of Papageno's footprint in the the snow. They led away from the main complex of the Station, down the shallow hill behind it, and towards the hollow bowl of the long-abandoned cloud-iron mines that Ice Station Zero backed on to.

It was on account of the density of the cloud-iron here that the location was selected to build the Station in the first place. It created curious magnetic phenomena, and had something to do with fluctuations in the ionosphere, and seemed to be just dripping in Dust, according to Lyra and Mal, who had explained all of this to Hermione, but still couldn't account for the presence of this amount of Dust at all.

Hermione thought it was pretty obvious why there was so much Dust in the cloud-iron mine ... for it was at the very centre of it that Sirius had been forced apart from his dæmon, Padfiette, creating a portal by which he could return home to his friends and family. That sort of thing was bound to leave an impression on the landscape!

But it was another sort of impression that Hermione was concerned with just now. For Papageno's footprints led right down into mine, and Hermione followed them meticulously, plodding along like the slow narrative of a bad story, until she found herself looking right at that gateway to another world, and the millions of strings of brilliant, dazzling, dancing light that it was made up of ... the lights of a million other universes that were converging at this one spot.

And then a horrific thought came to Hermione.

"No ... he wouldn't have, would he?" Hermione asked out loud to herself. "Even my Pap wouldn't be stupid enough to cross through on his own, would he?"

The answer came stunningly quick ... of course he would have! He was her, keen and quick and curious, and the chance to have a look at other worlds would be hugely tempting. After all, if you could get to them, why would you want to restrict yourself to just one world? Think of all the wonders just waiting to be seen in the millions of others within your reach.

The problem was, which one did he go to? He could, quite literally, be anywhere.

Hermione felt her pulse rise in her anguished frustration. Desperate and unsure, she called out into the light.

"Pap! Papageno! Where are you, my love? Can you hear me? Send me a sign ... any sort of sign ... I'm scared for you, Pap!"

And then ... Hermione got her sign.

The portal strings moved, as if caught in a gentle sea breeze, their lights flashed gold and silver and blue and purple ... and then ... something flew out of it at speed.

"Oof!" Hermione yelped, as the projectile from another world hit her in the crook of chest and shoulder. It didn't hurt, so much as it took Hermione by surprise. She looked down, to see the semi-formed remains of what it was that had struck her.

And she scowled in her confusion. "That ... that looks like a ... a snowball!"

A second or two later and she was certain that it was ... for a second one had hit her square in the crown of her head, where she was knelt down following the first snowy assault. She stood up crossly, stepping back just in case her invisible assailant was taking aim again.

"What is going on?" Hermione demanded huffily, to the world in general ... to Dust itself, if it was listening.

But it wasn't Dust that answered her.

"You know, you could throw one back! This game is so much more fun if you actually try and play!"

Hermione heard the voice as if in a dream, as though it were real and imagined all at once. The sound held her transfixed in place, her body stunned into immobility a moment. But then, the portal wobbled and flashed again ... and then something started to come through ... or, more precisely, someone did.

Hermione watched in open-jawed astonishment as the tall silhouette of Sirius came into sharp focus, as though he were stepping into light from deep shadow. Next to him, the figure James Potter emerged, next to Lily and baby Seren, who she was holding in her arms.

In front of them, a large golden lioness was slowly peeking into view. Hermione only had a second to resister the shameful shock of seeing Papageno actually riding Marici, his paws lost in her thick, luscious mane ... which Pap seemed to be caressing, almost, and purring deeply at the intimate contact ... before the owner of the voice which had spoken, the hidden snowball attacker, came fully into a new world for the first time in his life.

"Harry!"

Hermione screeched out his name with passion and gusto. She hadn't meant to do that, but her heart had decided that it was the best voice to use, so they ran with it. And they were properly running a second later, before barrelling into Harry with a hug so ferocious that it knocked him clean off his feet. Hermione clung on and went with him, as they both went tumbling down a slight incline away from the gateway with the adults all laughing heartily behind them.

After about three seconds of rolling and tumbling they came to a halt, with Hermione on top, panting and slightly breathless, her cheeks tinged pink from the cold and her expression bright and unfathomable. Harry felt his mouth become dry and arid as he tried to still his speeding heart and catch his breath, the loss of which had absolutely nothing to do with the rigorous fall they'd just had.

"Hey you," Hermione beamed, her eyes so bright that Harry felt dazzled by the glare. Her face was so close to his that he could see the drops of snow melting in her eyebrows, and felt the rush of her warm breath on his cheeks when she spoke, the effect of which sent tingly pimples erupting all over ever inch of his creepy, crawling flesh. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, thanks!" Harry laughed lightly. "It's nice to see you, too!"

"Of course it's nice to see you! This is the best surprise ever!" Hermione squealed back excitedly. "But you know what I mean! How did you get here?"

"Pap showed us!" Harry teased with a grin. Hermione narrowed her eyes, adorably cute and cross, and Harry felt he ought to give her a proper explanation. "There was nothing fun to keep us at home, so we thought it was high time I came and saw yours. So, here we are!"

"Oh, Harry! This is going to be so great!" Hermione sang, falling down atop him to hug him again. "Lyra can take you with us when we go to see Iorek and his Armoured Bears, and we can go into my world's Oxford to compare it to yours, and I can show you around Jordan, which is where Lyra's college is, and Jericho Prep, which is where I went to school before Hogwarts, and it'd be really funny if we ran into some of the nasty girls from my old school, because I could show them ..."

Hermione abruptly stopped talking as if she thought she'd said too much. She snapped her head up sharply, looking down so attentively at Harry it were as if she were captivated by him. And she really was far too close ... Harry was sure he could see her irises vibrating with her blazing intent, that unreadable expression crossing over them in an even more pronounced manner now, and there was a slight trace of moisture or melted snow over her lips, which were red and deep and glossy from the cold ... though that didn't explain why they looked so soft ...

And for a moment, just half a second maybe, Harry was sure that Hermione was going to move her face forward and let him feel how soft her lips were, possibly by pressing them gently against his own ...

But she didn't, and Harry felt his paused heartbeat kick into high gear once more, as a profound and disconcerting sensation flooded through him. Even Harry wasn't so dense as to not know the name of that feeling ... for it was blatant and unrestrained disappointment. Now what in the hell was that all about?

Harry didn't have much time to think about that, as Hermione was on her feet and offering her hand so she could tug him back to his, too. Harry felt colder when she went, not just for the loss of her body heat, but for the absence of her very weight, which had been a very real thing that he had been curiously enjoying while she was on top of him. But when Harry was upright again, Hermione didn't let go of her grip around his fingers, which he was thankful for, as the cute mittens she was wearing were lovely and fluffy against this icy wind.

"So, Pap?" Hermione called to her dæmon, as she and Harry scaled the hill back to the others. "Did you really lead everyone here?"

"I did," Papageno confirmed. "That's where I've been going for the last few days, in case you were wondering."

"Which you know I was," Hermione frowned. "How did you even know they were there?"

"I just did," Papageno replied, somewhat evasively. "I was walking close by the portal one day and I just felt it ... felt her ... on the other side. So I went through to find her, because I missed her a lot."

Papageno stepped forwards and brazenly rubbed his body against the crouched form of Marici, who was sat docile at Lily's feet. The great lioness closed her eyes, a deep, low sound rumbling in her throat at the contact with Papageno. Both Harry and Hermione felt a sort of rumble inside, too, though it made them much too shivery and embarrassed to analyse what the sensation was or why they were feeling it. So they tried to not think about it for now, even though they could struggle to focus on little else.

"We were in Norway, taking a holiday," Harry explained to Hermione. "Then we thought we'd come and surprise you. I hope you don't mind."

"Mind! What are you talking about! I love that you're here!" Hermione cried joyously. "Ooh, Harry! You can get to meet my parents now!"

Harry swallowed hard at the prospect, nervous all of a sudden, though he couldn't have said why.

"So, they're awake then?" Harry muttered. "They're not Petrified anymore?"

"No, they are all back to normal," Hermione beamed happily. "Well, there's something weird going on with their dæmons, but I don't know very much about that, so I'm leaving that to Lyra to work out. They are up and awake, that's the main thing ... and they'll be so excited to meet you! Come on, Harry ... and you Sirius ... and you Mr and Mrs Potter ... follow me! Ice Station Zebra is just over this ridge!"