"So, this must be the famous Harry Potter then!" Catherine Granger cried in glee. "Hermione has been telling us ever so much about you, it's lovely to finally put a face to the name and legend!"
"Oh, I don't know that I'm a legend, Mrs Granger," Harry mumbled shyly, wringing his hands in his awkwardness, which wasn't helped by the reverent way that Hermione was beaming at him from her mother's side as she made the introductions. "But I am him ... I mean, he's me ... Harry Potter, you know ... that's who I am ... my name is Harry. Nice to meet you."
Hermione's grin become more brilliant still at Harry's stumbling coyness. He was nervous, to be talking to her parents, and Hermione wondered at the reasons behind that for a moment, until her father took up the reins of conversation again.
"So, Harry, you're one of these magicians, are you?" David Granger asked of him. "Just like our Hermione, here?"
"Daddy! Harry isn't a magician!" Hermione cried, rolling her eyes loftily. "He's a wizard ... and I am a witch. I've explained this to you a dozen times!"
"And yet I still see little difference between the two," David returned.
Hermione let out a haughty little huff in her father's direction. "Alright, Dad, I'll tell you this one more time. A magician performs tricks with playing cards and pulls rabbits from hats at children's parties ... whereas Harry could whip up Potions to bottle fame, brew glory, and even put a stopper in death if he wanted to ... and cast spells to create fire and make things fly ... and actually fly himself, if he had his racing broom with him ... and, oh yes, he can talk to dragons and giant serpents, too ... there's a teeny, tiny little difference there. I don't know if you've spotted it!"
Hermione shot her father a cheeky little grin, which he returned with interest. Harry felt something ignite in his chest at the sight, to join with his flaming cheeks, which were burning hotly following Hermione's exaltation of his talents.
For there, standing right in front of him, was the new version of pretty Hermione again, extolling his virtues to her father. She looked exactly as Harry remembered her from that day in Oxford, apart from a cute, vibrant glow in her eyes as she spoke about him. That was new, and Harry daren't think that the two were related. That was dangerous territory, as if flirting with the forbidden. But it seemed that this doppelganger had followed them from the other world and was here to stay, perhaps merely to torment Harry further with this bout of insanity he was currently suffering under.
"Right, I'm going to leave you all to get acquainted," Hermione suddenly chirped, her voice bright and breezy.
"What ... wait! Where are you going?" Harry yelped, a little frantic at Hermione leaving him to face this interrogation alone.
"I have to change and have a shower because, quite frankly, I stink," Hermione told him, her cheeks colouring at the confession. "I wont be long. Look after Pap for me, will you?"
And with that, she span on her heel and hurried away without another word. What she didn't see, in her haste to get her fragrant self away from Harry, was the loaded look that her parents shared, as their daughter placed Papageno's care into the hands of this unusual boy from another world, knowing full well the implications of such a gesture, even if the two young people were as yet oblivious of how easily and comfortably they did it and what the whole thing likely meant about them.
For a few pregnant moments, nobody spoke. Harry wildly wondered if the onus was on him to create conversation, and how he was supposed to do that, because he wasn't much practiced at such things. He didn't possess the happy talent that some boys did of initiating conversation with strangers.
Luckily, Sirius could talk for England.
"Right then, let's get the big introductions out of the way, shall we?" Sirius barked jovially. "David and Catherine Granger ... meet Lily and James Potter, and their very newborn daughter, Seren."
"Ooh, Seren is a Welsh name!" Catherine cried gleefully. "It means ..."
"Star!" Lily beamed back. "How extraordinary that it is the same here as it is for us! Lyra told us that there are a lot of differences here, almost like older versions of things we use back home. I suppose I didn't expect to find many similarities."
"Really? What sort of things did she mention?" Catherine queried in fascination, as she and Lily sat close to huddle in conversation, each recognising the reflection of insatiable academic curiosity in the other.
"Well, we call our closest European neighbours the French, but I understand they are known as Franks here, which they were called in our world many hundreds of years in the past," Lily explained. "Lyra also once had a friend who came from the country of Texas, which is just part of a larger group of united states in our world, and there are parts of your world, that Lyra once travelled to in one of her adventures, that we recognise from names that fell out of use for us some time ago.
"But to find Welsh pretty much the same is quite incredible."
"It may be on account of the age of the language and culture," Catherine suggested. "It is very old, perhaps one of the oldest surviving in this part of the world. The ways of my people are seen as quaint and backwards by some, even dangerous to The Magisterium and The Church, and we are much scorned to this day. Hence why I had to alter my name in order to blend in, once we moved to central Brytain ... my true name in Welsh is Catrin, but it was easier to Anglicise it than to draw contempt down upon us by keeping it in the native form."
"I see bigotry is the same across worlds too, then," Lily scowled.
"How old is your baby?" Catherine swooned.
"Barely three months," Lily beamed. "Would you like to hold her? She's just been changed, so she's nice and fresh."
"May I? Oh ... she's beautiful!" Catherine swooned as she took the sleeping infant.
"Is it just Hermione for you?" Lily asked. "Never thought of having any more?"
Catherine looked up sadly. "We did want more, but when I gave birth to Hermione there were ... complications. Dust, it seems, decided that one baby was enough for us. We are just lucky that it gave us the perfect one at our first try."
"Oh, Catherine ... I'm so sorry!" Lily whispered in guilty horror. "Forgive me."
"There is nothing to forgive," Catherine smiled, brightly. "We have Hermione, our angel of a girl ... there is nothing to be regretful about as far as we are concerned."
"Well, she's the best friend I could ever have asked for, if that counts for anything," Harry piped up suddenly. He felt it was the sort of truth he ought to offer, to cut through the awkward atmosphere that threatened the room. "She's kind and brave and funny ... she's the best, really."
"Funny?" David quirked. "Hermione? Are you sure you've got the right girl? The only time she ever tells jokes is when she reads them from Christmas Crackers! And I swear I only hear her laugh when she's got wind!"
"Oh, hush you," Catherine dismissed with a grin. "You ignore him, Harry. He's just teasing ... or at least, he had better be!"
David guffawed out a laugh as Catherine narrowed her eyes warningly at her husband, using an expression so much like one of Hermione's that Harry had to do a double take.
"So, Hermione and Lyra are going to visit the Bears tomorrow," Catherine went on. "Would you like to see them, Harry?"
"Oh yes, very much!" Harry nodded enthusiastically. "I saw their king, Iorek, when he came into our world last year ... when he was trying to find a cure for your Petrification. But I never spoke to him or anything."
Harry swallowed nervously, waiting for the reaction from his mentioning the attack on the Grangers by the Basilisk. He was keen to know if, or how much, they might hold him ultimately responsible for it.
Lily, seeing her son's agitation, stepped in quickly. "I'm glad to see that the Mandrake Restorative Draught worked. It has been many years since I brewed that particular potion, but I am glad to see it worked for you."
"You brewed it?" David asked, his tone grateful. "How fortunate! I was hoping that I might get to thank the one responsible, but I couldn't imagine how I'd achieve it. What a stroke of fortune this is!"
"Yes, I quite agree," Catherine smiled. "Thank you, Lily."
"Don't mention it," Lily grinned back. "I was better at Charms during my schooldays, but I was always a proficient Potion Brewer, too. Have you had any side effects with it?"
"Our dæmons ... do you know what dæmons are? Oh, great! ... well, they have been acting slightly peculiar, but I cant see how that might be connected to the medicine," David replied.
"How have they been acting?" James asked, crossing the room to join the others. "Obviously, we cant claim to know very much about dæmons, being without them as we are, but we have been getting used to having Marici around with Harry ... and we looked after Papageno for a spell last year when Hermione was ..."
"Not feeling herself," Lily cut in quickly, not sure how much the Grangers knew of the story, and not wanting to land Hermione in hot water for being suspended from school, even of she was ultimately cleared of the crime for which she'd been accused.
Catherine cocked a curious eyebrow at Harry. "Pap stayed with you? Does he do that a lot?"
"No, that was the only time," Harry blushed. "But he does come to me quite a bit."
"And have you ... touched him?" Catherine asked in a near-whisper.
Harry coloured hotly. He knew where this was going and braced himself for the reaction.
"Yes ... yes I have," Harry muttered.
He waited for the shocked gasps, which were far more pointed that his best preparation could have readied him for, to die down before continuing. He was desperately keen to explain his innocence ... as though apologising for being caught blindly walking in on Hermione in the bath or something.
"I didn't mean to," he moaned lowly. "I didn't know, see. When I first met Hermione we were just on the train to school. Pap was with her, and I just thought he was her big, fluffy, normal cat. So I smoothed him without knowing what I was really doing ... or what it really meant."
"And what about after you knew?" David asked, his voice flirting with being accusatory. "Have you touched him since?"
Harry was almost too scared to answer. He bit his lip nervously, never more aware of how much he shouldn't be touching Hermione's dæmon than now, when her outraged parents were about to scold him for it. He might have kissed Hermione full on the mouth right in front of them and it wouldn't be this bad. The guilt rang nosily in his ears, though the room was still, as if it were holding its breath.
And in the droning silence, Papageno stood up from where he was sat near Marici and moved towards Harry. His bottle-brush tail was standing straight up in the air, all pointy and angry, and his squashed face was fixed in a firm pout. He reached Harry and then, in an act of sheer defiance, he stepped right into his lap, before padding around a moment and settling into a curled position, with his eyes fixed mutinously on Catherine and David, almost as if he were daring them to challenge the relationship that had developed between their daughter's best friend and her increasingly feisty dæmon.
But their daughter, herself, was pretty feisty, too.
The door to the Communal Lounge suddenly hissed open and Hermione was stood there, looking cross and confused with her hair still wet and dripping onto the tiles.
"What's going on?" she demanded. "My heart rate is going a mile a minute, as if I should be mad at something. What's ... oh!"
Hermione's eyes went wide as she drank in the situation, her eyes flipping from her frowning parents to her resolute dæmon, and the fierce stare he had fixed on them, a stare potent enough for both he and Harry, which was a good thing as Harry's own eyes were turned down reticently to the floor.
"What's going on?" Hermione repeated, her anger rising. She marched around to stand directly in front of her parents. "What have you being saying, Mum? Dad? What have you said to Harry? Have you been giving him a hard time ... about this?"
Hermione span on her heel and waved animatedly at Harry and Papageno, then turned to glower at her parents again. Harry felt awful ... this meeting had been going so well, he didn't want to ruin it like this.
"Hermione ..." Harry began quietly. "They are right ... I shouldn't touch Pap, not now that I know what it means."
"And do you?" Catherine asked, sounding gentle and surprised. "Do you really know what it means?"
"I know how personal it is," Harry mumbled. "I feel it now with my dæmon. I wont even let Mum and Dad touch her ... so I know how intimate it is ... I know that much at least."
"Then why still do it with Papageno?" Catherine pressed on, stilling her husband with a sharp look.
"I don't know," Harry muttered shyly. "I ... I suppose I just like it. It makes me feel close to them, in ways that I cant describe, really. Certainly in ways I don't feel with my other friends. It's different ... all warm and cosy and nice ... and it makes me feel special, that Hermione allows me to share it with her, with them. It's because of that, I think."
Hermione snapped her head around to look at him, such bright and incomprehensible affection in her face that Harry didn't know what to do with it, apart from look at the floor again. There was such tenderness in her expression that Harry felt a part of his insides come to life, then squirm and wriggle as if trying to escape under the glow of it.
"And what about you, Hermione?" David asked. "How do you feel about it?"
The question was loaded, and Harry was with David in his intent. To an outsider, there was every chance that this could look forced, that Harry was violating Hermione without consciously knowing that he was doing it. Harry swallowed painfully as he considered that possibility, resolving to disengage Papageno from his thighs if Hermione even hinted at any sort of discomfort.
As if reading Harry's mind, Papageno dug his claws in as deep as he dared without causing pain, but just enough so that Harry would know exactly that he meant to do it. Hermione felt the entire exchange within her own heart and mind and simply smiled at them both, relaxing Harry in an instant.
"I love that Harry and Pap get on so well," Hermione grinned. "I think Pap likes it even more than that ... and I sometimes think he'd prefer to spend time with Harry than with me. But I know he'd be in the safest hands if he did, so I don't mind that, either."
David and Catherine looked at Harry inscrutably a second, then at each other ... and then, in a moment that Harry felt come and go in a flash, they agreed on something, though what that might be Harry had no more idea than the fish swimming around in the big tank near the window.
But Hermione seemed to have a slightly better idea about things. She planted one hand on her hip and turned back to her parents.
"Satisfied?" she asked, firmly.
"Yes, very satisfied," Catherine replied, looking at Harry with a far warmer expression than any she'd afforded him so far.
"Dad?" Hermione demanded.
"Alright, yes ... for now," David responded, his tone lighter and slightly teasing. He flicked Harry a brief look, but it was utterly unreadable and Harry was content with that ... it was better than Hermione's father being cross with him.
"Good, because I've shared my best friend with you for long enough, so now we're going to have some fun," Hermione announced. "I missed his birthday, so I have a lot of making up to do."
"What did you have in mind?" Harry grinned, looking up in hope.
"We'll start at the bottom of the Station and work our way up," Hermione told him, brightly. "There's just loads of amazing stuff to see ... and it'll probably take so long that we wont make it up to the Observatory on the top floor till it gets dark ... but that's a good thing, because it's best to see the Northern Lights like that. Oh, Harry ... I do hope it's a clear night tonight, because I'd just love you to see the Aurora at its best! All the greens and reds and golds ... I'm sure you'll just love it!"
That night, Harry got lucky with Hermione.
The Arctic skies were favourable to them, staying cloudless and clear as they reached the large dome of the Observatory. The operator kindly opened the sphere-shaped hood and exposed the vastness of the Arctic night to them. Hermione made Harry lie down on the floor and close his eyes, before lying down herself with the tops of their heads almost touching, as she stretched away from him. When the hood was fully retracted, she finally spoke.
"Open your eyes, Harry!" Hermione whispered, reverently.
So he did ... and thought he might have been looking at Heaven itself.
For the cosmic beauty of the Arctic sky took his breath away. Billions of stars, their light unfettered by the glare of civilisation and the mists of pollution, shone brilliantly, as far as his eyes could see. It was utterly stunning. Harry felt he could have looked at it forever and been happier for it.
But then there was something else. It started like a cloud at first, distant and wispy and ephemeral. And then it became more pronounced, not like it was getting closer, but more as if it were getting bigger ... almost as though it were growing like a living, breathing thing. The colours were difficult to make out, dull pinks and shadowy greens. Harry felt a tinge of disappointment at it. He couldn't help it.
Hermione seemed to sense that from him. She lifted her hand over her head to clutch at his shoulder. "Wait ... wait ... wait for it ... here it comes ...!"
Harry looked up, his own anticipation stoked by Hermione's eager excitement. Quite what he was waiting for he didn't know, but he kept his eyes pinned on those folds of light just the same.
And then he saw it.
Almost as if someone had fired a flare into the sky, the swirls of red and green were suddenly infused with gold. It penetrated the other folds of light, dancing between the curtains and igniting the dull colours to vivid hues of crimson and sparkling emerald. Harry gasped as he watched Nature's greatest light show taking place above his head ... and in his joy his hand flew to Hermione's on reflex, squeezing it tight.
"Oh, Hermione!" Harry breathed. "It's beautiful!"
"I told you you'd like it!" Hermione hushed back, keeping her voice low as though she'd offend Nature itself if she spoke any louder. "Do you see all that gold, Harry? Do you see it? Well, that's Dust, Harry! That's what it looks like and what it does ... it brings light to everything. It illuminates it."
"Or enlightens it, you could say," Harry replied, as much to himself as to her. A new understanding of what he'd been told on High Brasil was blooming in his mind. He swallowed a dozen new questions that had been born in his brain about it, about the destiny he shared with Hermione. They would all have to wait, because he had just thought of something even more important that he'd forgotten he wanted to do.
"Thank you, Hermione," Harry whispered, before his courage faltered.
"For what?" she queried.
"For sharing this with me," Harry replied. "I'm so lucky, and so glad, that you did. And I don't just mean the Northern Lights, but everything. For sharing your life and your dæmon, your world and your destiny with me. There's no-one else I'd be more glad to share those things with. I just wanted you to know that."
"I know, and I ... me too, Harry ... me too."
Then she squeezed his hand tightly. Neither knew it, but both of them smiled, and closed their eyes at the touch.
The Northern Lights were just the first of many incredible sights to befall Harry over the next week. A few days after his arrival and he set off with Lyra, Hermione and Sirius as they took the short trek to nearby Svalbard, home of Iorek Brynison and his Armoured Bears. Ice Station Zebra had, in part, been set up nearby in order to monitor the bears as they returned to their ancestral home, as the ice there was completely melted at the start Lord Asriel's Great War, which took place almost twenty-five years ago now.
Harry was keen to hear all about that, so Lyra told him as much of the story as she could remember, with Hermione filling in the blanks, as she had memorised all the books and papers Lyra had ever written about it. All in all, it was a pleasant way to spend the handful of hours it took to reach Svalbard in their dog-pulled sled.
Then there was Iorek and the bears themselves, which were bigger and more ferocious than Harry could have guessed at. He remembered seeing Iorek at Hogwarts, but he rather felt he was too shocked by seeing a huge polar bear in thickset armour wandering around near the Charms classrooms to really take in his physical dimensions properly.
So he did now ... and cowered away in his insignificance.
For Iorek Byrnison was huge. His paws, Harry knew, could crush his skull to dust in the work of barely a moment. Even Marici, who was usually big and brave, curled down at Harry's feet as he was introduced to the bear-king, planting her head between her own paws and mewling pathetically. It was only when Papageno came up and licked snow from her drooping eyes ... which was an act that made both Harry and Hermione suddenly so shy around each other that they couldn't speak for fully ten minutes ... that the great lioness felt brave enough to move again.
Iorek was big, but his son was even more massive. Whereas Iorek was ageing and gnarled now, Pfetr Iorekson was in his prime. His coat was gleaming and glossy, his jowl set and powerful and his claws sharp enough to rip sheet metal as though it were made of cotton. But only with age came wisdom, and Iorek had that in spades. Though what he had to say was somewhat disquieting.
"When do you leave the North, Lyra Silvertongue?" the great bear asked, his voice a rumble so deep that Harry was sure it made his bones vibrate under his skin.
"A couple of days, three at most," Lyra replied. They were walking to the water's edge, where Pfetr was busy skinning a seal he'd just caught in his powerful teeth.
"Make it two ... one, if you can," Iorek advised darkly. "Things are afoot in the North ... things that I do not like at all."
"Things? What things?" Sirius asked, frowning.
"Dark things, dangerous ones," Iorek returned, lowly. "Things we bears feel in the swell of the tide and the taste of the air. Something is coming, something we must all be wary of. It feels like before, with Asriel. The sky may not be torn open this time, but the forces which caused it are moving again.
"And when they come, Lyra, you must be ready for war."
"Me? What do I have to do with it?" Lyra asked, hotly.
"The Forces of Light chose you as their champion once before, they will do so again," Iorek told her simply. "You must be ready ... you must protect your cub."
Iorek looked unblinkingly at Hermione, who blushed under his intense gaze. "Me? Am I in danger?"
"We may all be," Iorek replied bluntly. "But you are with the best people for you. Stick close to them, child, for that is where you will be safest. Your companion is a boy touched by lightening ... and the Gods of Thunder will side with him in what is to come."
Iorek stopped then and stepped close to Harry, who froze in his massive presence. Iorek raised his huge paw and Harry cowered back, as if bracing to be clobbered ... but Iorek merely pushed back his fringe with the sort of delicacy Harry wouldn't have thought a great bear capable of.
"This mark is a blessing," Iorek told him, looking closely at the scar on Harry's forehead that his mother's early rune rituals with him had caused. "Lightening has touched you, boy, and it will answer your call ... when you learn how to ask for it."
"Great!" Harry thought, snarkily. "First dragon, then Parseltongue ... now I have to learn to speak Lightening, too!" ... though he was much too intimidated by Iorek to say any of this out loud.
"So, these Dark forces ... are they already in the North?" Sirius went on.
"If they are not, they very soon will be," Iorek replied. "You must be cautious, Sirius Black. You are a human who has straddled more than one world, and that makes you uniquely suited to fighting this enemy ... and more of a threat to them as a result."
"And so they will be coming for me," Sirius growled. "Well, let them come. I'll be ready."
Sirius was so fierce in his determination that it stirred excitement in Harry's chest. This was the man from the stories, the one who had duelled Lord Voldemort to a stalemate, and eventually resorted to tackling him bodily and driving him through a portal to another world. Harry had never seen this side of Sirius so viscerally before him ... and it wiped out any fear Harry might have felt listening to Iorek's warnings.
Even so, it didn't make for the most settled of times for Harry over the next few days. His dreams became plagued with dark omens and portents so vivid that Harry suffered fitful sleep, often not sure if he was wakened or sleeping when he saw them. He put it down to sleeping in a new and unfamiliar place, one whose sounds and smells were alien and strange and disturbing his established patterns.
Several times Harry woke from his dreams and swore that he saw the shadows of the room he shared with Seren come to life. He felt utterly terrified for his baby sister, certain that she was surrounded by these dark masses, that took the vague form of vicious dogs or great wolves, ones which loomed over her cot and threatened to steal away with her.
Then, the very night before they were due to leave the North, Harry even chased one of the grim shadows away from his room. He followed it right into the corridor and moved with the shifting light, driven on to catch the shadow when he was sure he saw it trap Papageno in a storeroom, only for Harry to arrive there out of breath and find the whole place empty. He decided he must have dreamt the whole thing and returned to his room, but determined to keep a vigil over Seren anyway until they left this place. But he kept the light on for it.
Because, for the first time in nearly three years, Harry felt afraid of the dark ... for there were shadows everywhere there. Nowhere was safe. So Harry pulled his quilt to him, drifted to Seren's cot and curled up next to it, hitching his knees into his chest to wait for the morning ... and Hermione ... his two most powerful weapons against the encroaching darkness.