The cold snap was brought in on a blast of icy wind. It delivered a flurry of heavy snowfall that soon piled up around the yurts and cabins of Lake Enara in deep, fluffy drifts. The witches felt not a bit of the cold, on account of their magic, and Hermione - since she had been inducted as one of them - found that the cold in this special part of world barely made an impression on her skin, either.

If only the same could have been said about the cold she felt inside then she'd be a far more restful witch for it.

For it had been over a month now since her parents had been attacked by this new and frightening type of magic, one that Lyra was casually referring to as a new form of intercision, a word that caused her and Pantalaimon to bristle and tremble at the very mention of it.

Hermione's heart had been in a state of tumultuous flux ever since the attack, and every new day brought a change of mind ... yesterday she was determined to stay here and help fix her parents, the day before the whole thing had upset her so much that she began to wish she'd never come back at all, never seen the state of them with her own two eyes. If she'd stayed put, she reasoned, she could have imagined them however she chose to after it happened. Maybe pictured them as still just asleep, as she did when they were Petrified by the basilisk, secure in the hope that there would be a positive solution out there somewhere.

But being here in the face of them, and being able to talk to Serafina Pekkala and meet some of her witches ... ones who had succumbed to the devastation of a similar sort of Separation Shock themselves ... only drove home the reality of the situation that much more forcefully.

There was no obvious solution in sight ... her parents might exist only now in this spectre-like state. Their dæmons, if they couldn't find a cure, would soon cease recognise their humans, would not be able to reconnect with them or help to restore them to their previous selves.

For this was the new plan of the Magisterium ... and Hermione found it utterly terrifying.

She was sat quietly at her mother's feet, numbly trying to absorb this painful truth. It was the hardest thing, but the reality was right there in front of her. The Grangers had been test subjects, part of the Magisterium's great new experiment, and they had been left in this mentally mute state ... the durations of which were getting longer and longer between ever dwindling blasts of cogency. Hermione clung helplessly to her mother's legs, where she was sat on the floor next to her bed with her head in Catherine's lap, and listened to the howling wind as it assaulted the hut.

"How does it happen, Serafina?" Hermione asked. "How did your witches get like this?"

"Separation from our dæmon is one of the hardest things for us to comprehend," Serafina replied, applying a special salve to Catherine's head to encourage blood flow, in the hope that stronger thoughts might flow with it. "We witches make a great sacrifice as a test of our endurance to achieve it ... not that I need to explain that to you. But it does not work for all witches. Occasionally, the Act of Separation leaves both witch and dæmon so traumatised that they can not adjust to the new way of being, and lose all trust in each other and so do not reconnect. It doesn't occur often, but it does happen."

Serafina motioned to the other patients around them, of whom there were less than a dozen, but who all bore the same, glazed expression as Catherine and David Granger.

"I'm really sorry, Mum, for all of it!" Hermione suddenly cried out in a surge of anguish, squeezing her mother's knees tight to her. "I didn't have to go and find Harry, I really didn't! But I really did, too! It was all I wanted once I knew, all I could think about. But I didn't think it would lead to this, you have to believe that. But I just had to go. I know you understood at the time, I just hope you forgave me for it afterwards."

Catherine Granger just stared blankly over her daughter's head, completely oblivious to her presence. Hermione couldn't even cry anymore, she had no tears left. When they'd first arrived back in the North, and Hermione had handed her parent's care over to Serafina and her clan, she had given her mother a huge hug, childishly convinced that it would make everything better, genuinely expecting her warm arms to miraculously fly up around her shoulders and hug her right back.

But, of course, all Hermione felt was the cold. She might as well have been hugging one of the snow-laden trees in the forest outside for all the warmth she felt back.

But the passiveness still didn't ease her of any of her guilt. Hermione pressed her chin further into her mother's lap, in much the same way that Pap had planted his head between his paws on her own.

"Do you think they understand, Pap?" Hermione mewled. "Do you think they can even hear me?"

"There's a difference between hearing and listening, Hermione," Pap replied. "They can probably hear the sounds, but they have no idea what you are saying, or that it's even language ... or even what language is."

"How can you be so sure?"

"I just am," Pap returned. "It almost feels like the energy of consciousness existed in the link between them and their dæmons, and once they were attacked it got totally smothered by whatever magic was in the spell or the bite. I can barely feel any life from them, Hermione. Do you remember Lyra talking about her old friend, Mary Malone?"

"The one who made The Amber Spyglass?"

"Yes, her," Pap nodded. "Well, I bet if we had that Spyglass now, and we looked at Mum and Dad through it, that we'd not see any Dust on them. That's what it feels like ... as though the very thing that makes them alive has been completely ripped away. That's the horror that Voldemort and the Magisterium have visited on them ... and it's just the most awful thing!"

Hermione nodded in vehement agreement, clutching her dæmon tight to her body. "But we did do the right thing, didn't we? Mum and Dad even said that they were happy that we found Lyra, so that she could keep us safe on our adventure."

"Of course we did!" Papageno cried, passionately. "We would never have been satisfied if we hadn't gone to find Harry, they knew that. And Mum and Dad must be pleased that we found him, too, because at least now they know that we are surrounded by people who love us so much."

"Oh, Pap! I miss Harry so much!" Hermione yelped, massaging her chest, which she noticed was getting bumpier all the time. "It actually hurts, you know? It aches like crazy. I'm not sure what's worse ... what happened to Mum and Dad, or being away from Harry because of it. I just cant win! Oh, why has life been so unfair to us!?"

"Because life is filled with these little miseries," Serafina told her, sagely. "Each of us, in her own way, must learn to deal with adversity in a mature and adult fashion."

"I suppose you are right," Hermione mumbled, dully. "But why do these trials have to be so hard, so painful all the time? And how long does it take to get over them?"

"Not a second, more or less, than is necessary to learn and heal," the beautiful witch replied cryptically, moving on to treat David next.

"And what do you think about what I am doing?" Hermione asked. "Am I the worst daughter in history, or what?"

"No more than I am the worst mother," Serafina comforted, then smiled sadly when Hermione looked at her in surprise.

"I didn't know that you'd ever had a child."

"Just the one," Serafina returned. "I once took a man as my lover, fell pregnant by him, but I left our child in a basket on his doorstep, to bring up alone. I watched over him unseen, saw him fall in love with another woman, one who treated him and our son properly for the rest of their lives. My son's name was Hector, but you may have known him in life by another name ... Granddad."

Hermione gasped in abject shock, her eyes bulging with the revelation. "But ... but ... that would make you my great-grandmother!"

"It does indeed! Well deduced!" Serafina laughed, as Hermione span to her in a frantic state. "And, just like Lyra's is with her new husband, I am so happy, so proud, to be able to call you family."

"I ... I don't understand any of this!" Hermione whined, her brain still whirring from the shock. "You were my Granddad's Mum! ... why didn't you tell me? After all this time?"

"You didn't need to know, until now, when your fraught mind might be soothed by the knowledge," Serafina replied, kindly.

"I might not have needed to know, but I'd have liked to," Hermione huffed. "Is ... is it from you that I get my special magical ability then?"

"It is very likely," Serafina nodded. "One does not become Queen of a powerful witch-clan without being a little more gifted than the witches around her."

"And you definitely are powerful," Hermione agreed with a cross little frown. "But why tell me now? How is it supposed to soothe me?"

"You are torn, blaming yourself for harm caused to your parents again, thinking it is your fault all because you embarked upon these great destinies you have in another world," Serafina replied. "You think that you are responsible for what has happened to them, worried about what will happen to them when the time comes for you to leave them here, as you go to resume your quest with Harry ... which you must do ... and soon.

"But now you can take comfort in the fact that you will not be leaving them alone or unprotected when you eventually do go. You are leaving my grandson with me, giving me the chance to take care of him and his wounded wife, in a way that I failed to do with my own son. I may not be able to ever repair them, but I will look after them lovingly enough for the both of us, Hermione."

Hermione blinked as she processed that, trying to take it in. Her heart felt a little lighter, the guilt easing a fraction.

"What I did was shameful, but it is the way with witches in such circumstances," Serafina continued. "What you must do now is make a mature decision, in a case where your parents cannot make it for you. And the decision is one of the hardest you will ever face, easily as hard as Separating from your dæmon or even embarking upon your great adventure in the first place."

"And what is that?" Hermione asked, her voice a little shaky.

"You must decide when the time has come for you to leave your parents behind again," Serafina replied. "Your place is not here, Hermione ... your future is not rooted in this world. Your destiny can be paused, you can stray from the path, but you cannot ignore it forever."

"But how will I know when the time is right?" Hermione murmured, anxiously. "How can I ever make a decision like that?"

"When you know ... you will know." Serafina replied in confusing allegory. "I am so proud of you, Hermione, that you continue to come up against these huge life choices at such a young age and are not afraid to face them head on. You are the strongest young witch that I have ever known. And you are proving time and again that your instincts are good and nearly always right.

"I may be highly biased, but if I was asked to nominate a young witch, in whose hands the fates of many worlds should be placed, I would feel utterly secure in placing such a responsibility in yours."

Hermione flushed crimson at that, then smiled weakly. "No pressure, then!"

Serafina laughed. "You will take any that comes your way, weigh it, measure it, then defeat whatever it throws at you ... with that admirable young man of yours at your side the whole way."

Hermione's blush deepened, all the way down to her bones. "He is not my young man yet ... Great-Grandma!"

"Wrong, it is only in definition alone that you have not bound with him yet, and that is a conclusion of which only the time of achievement can be undecided," Serafina smiled. "I was left in no doubt, during my time with him on High Brasil, that he is utterly devoted to you. He cared about nothing else during our time there ... he showed no fear, would not tolerate my calls for caution and hesitation, was fiercely determined to succeed ... whatever else his motivation may have been, I am convinced he thought only of you."

Hermione was much too embarrassed to know how to reply to that. Luckily, Sirius came in just at that moment and saved her the necessity of responding.

"I see the family reunion has happened then!" he quirked as he joined them near the Grangers.

"You knew!" Hermione shrieked shrilly. "Why didn't you say something?"

"It never came up," Sirius grinned. "Besides, I thought Harry might have told you."

"Harry knows!" Hermione cried. "Am I the only one who doesn't?!"

"Pretty much!" Sirius laughed in his booming bark.

"You devious bunch of cockroaches!" Hermione huffed, crossly. "Ooh, honestly ... I swear to you I'll find a revenge for this. Just you wait. It will be so evil they'll have to transfer me into Slytherin when I get back to Hogwarts!

Sirius chuckled deeply again. "And forego all those cosy nights curled up with Harry on the couch in front of the Gryffindor Common Room fire? Think of what you'd be giving up before you commit to a scheme like that."

"Such an unfair bribe!" Hermione riled, lowly. "Okay, maybe I'll have to tone my retribution down. But this isn't over, you mark my words."

"Come on, Hermione!" Sirius consoled teasingly, moving to Hermione and squeezing her shoulder. "Think of it as gaining a powerful fairy godmother ... or great-grandmother. That should be a positive, shouldn't it?"

"Well, yes, I suppose ... if you put it that way," Hermione considered sniffily. Then she stood up and flung her arms around Serafina, enveloping her in a deep hug. "Thank you, Serafina. Thank you for taking care of Mum and Dad. I'll come back and see them as often as I'm able once I'm gone. I'm doing this for them, now ... and I swear I'll avenge them."

"Try not to think of it in such terms," Serafina advised. "To be consumed by anger and seek violent revenge is to take the first step along a Dark road. You know where that leads, and it not a destination that you want to head for. You may not be able to put right this wrong, Hermione ... but what you can do is to try and make sure it doesn't happen to anyone else."

"I'll do that then," Hermione nodded faithfully as she pulled away from Serafina. "Just as long as Mum and Dad will be safe here with you, just like all these others."

She gesticulated around at the other beds in the hut.

"They will be ... and this is what we must stop, before the Magisterium are able to do it to the whole world," Serafina promised.

She turned and considered the scene, as she walked Hermione and Sirius around this triage centre, the largest hut of the complex of dwellings that made up her clan's home. This was a sort of nursing centre for the broken witches of the clan, and it was here that Hermione's parents would be looked after during their stay here.

"Lyra said that you know a fair bit about this," Sirius went on. "You were the one who told Malcolm and Didier Sadyo-Mane what they told Oakley Street concerning it ... and now they are telling Lyra the same, wherever she has gone to meet them ... so what can you tell me?"

"The Magisterium stumbled across this horrific idea when Thomas Riddle began working with the witch clans of Lake Sforza, the ones who took him in when he arrived in this world," Serafina explained. "He was fascinated by dæmons and their connection to humans, for apparently he had found a way to split his own soul and send it away to do his bidding ... but it left his body in the same mindless state as these poor wretches, and just as vulnerable, not only to attack but also to long-term mental damage. He saw dæmon creation as a way to perfect his research."

"By doing what?"

"Essentially, his goal has been to split his soul, but to retain control of his body at the same time," Serafina went on. "That is not quite how dæmons work, as we are two parts of the same whole, but Riddle wants to create multiple splits of his single soul, possibly to transfer his conscious mind between them or control more than one body at a time. The idea is truly heinous, a violation of the most basic tenet of nature, in my book."

"I quite agree," Sirius nodded. "But what is the Magisterium's interest in this? How can it benefit them?"

"Try to understand, Sirius, that the Magisterium sees Dust and dæmons as the grossest form of heresy in existence ... for it not only undermines, but totally annihilates, all of their doctrines, their holy books, even their creation myths. Yet we all have dæmons, we cant deny them, even though a considered campaign of disinformation has been attempted for years, to convince us all that our dæmons are merely a figment of our imaginations ... not that bodies such as the Magisterium approve of imagination any more than they do the idea of Dust and dæmons."

"So what do they aim to do?" Hermione asked. "What's their ultimate goal?"

"Originally, they wanted to target children during adolescence, when Dust settled on them, and remove their dæmons at that point ... but I'm sporting with your intelligence about all that, Hermione, because it was Lyra who put a stop to the programme, as I'm sure you know," Serafina smiled. "That plan was foiled by Lyra, obviously, but the goal never went away.

"The new initiative aims to go even further back, to when dæmons first come to new life, as it enters the world at birth. Whether this is in very early childhood, or even as the child grows in the womb, we are as yet unsure. But the idea is to stop dæmons before they can attach themselves to children, and Thomas Riddle's experiments are how they intend to do it."

"My word!" Hermione yelped. "Do you have any idea how?"

Serafina shook her head. "As of this point, we have been unable to find out the method for this abominable scheme. But what we do know is that the plan has a second prong ... for not only do they wish to stop dæmons coming to humans in this world, they also want to stop magic blossoming in children in that other world."

Sirius growled louder than his dæmon, Padfiette, who was trotting along next to Pap at the back of the group. "Stop magic coming to children ... how in the world do they plan to do that?"

"Again, we have little information about that," Serafina confessed, apologetically. "What little knowledge we have gleaned leans towards some connection to the study of genetics. Thomas Riddle was frequently heard by our witch-spies to use phrases such as 'Pureblood' and 'Muggleborn', which we have come to understand refer to classifications of magical heritage in his world. We assume that blood or genes or things of that nature must be connected to the development of magic somehow."

"That sort of makes sense, in the worst kind of way," Hermione frowned. Serafina turned to her in interest, while Sirius sighed with an understanding 'ah', guessing where Hermione's train of thought was going. "You see, not all magical-born children have magical power ... and they are called Squibs ... and then you get Muggleborns, who are children with magical talent born to parents who had none. That's what we pretend I am in that world.

"But it is quite plausible to imagine that the reason is genetic, as though the presence of magical ability ... or the lack of it ... is something physical, or contained in the very genes of people, and that it could skip generations as other traits do, or even vanish entirely over time. In that case, it is something that could be easily manipulated, if you knew what to look for. Magical talent could be guaranteed in every birth if you could activate the gene ..."

"Or denied to those that the ruling powers didn't want to have it," Sirius scythed, angrily. "That's what Riddle wants to do, is it? Control the very blessing of magic and decide who gets it and who doesn't! But for that to work, he'd have to have dominion over the Muggle population as well as the magical one, to control Squibs and Muggleborns as well as the other extremes. At least he doesn't have that."

"Doesn't have it yet," Serafina hushed, darkly. "We have heard rumours that the Magisterium are making their strongest moves into that world that they ever have. They want to use it to test run the delivery of a disease pandemic, and the very vaccine ... one that they, themselves, introduce to combat it ... will leave people infertile. Then they will announce a miraculous cure for the infertility, one that will enable them to scrutinise and select every potential parent in the world. And, for those that they deem unsuitable to produce offspring for their New World Order, the cure will simply fail and they will blame it on the genetics of the host. If it works there, they will introduce a variant here ... one that will be resistant to the connection of a dæmon to a human counterpart, on account of an infusion of Dark Magic ... courtesy of Thomas Riddle."

"My great God!" Sirius cried in shock. "That ... that could actually work, couldn't it? I can see it happening!"

"Then we have to stop it!" Hermione growled fiercely. "Whatever it takes."

Sirius took a rattling, steely breath as he considered her words, then his expression steeled in stout determination. "Then I think I'm going to go ... try and do something about it."

"What? No, you have to stay here and protect us ... protect me!" Hermione squeaked shrilly. "You have to ... Harry told you that you must, and you promised him so faithfully that you would, so you cant go ... I need you, Sirius! I'll be terrified without you. Don't go ... please!"

Sirius stepped forwards and took Hermione's trembling hands strongly in his own. She tried to pull free in her roiling anguish, but Sirius held her firm.

"Listen ... listen," he implored gently, as Hermione continued to struggle against his grip. "I'm staying in this world, I'm needed here, where I can do some good. But I can't be idle. I'll go to Malcolm or something, help him with his research into what the Magisterium are plotting here. He's heading into Siberia after his meeting with Lyra, she said. So I'll just head out there after him. We'll put a stop to this before it gets out of hand."

Sirius ruffled Hermione's bushy hair affectionately, then she flung herself at him and squeezed him tight.

"Oh, Sirius! You will be careful, wont you?" Hermione yelped. "How could I tell Harry if something awful happened to you?"

"Of course I'll be careful," Sirius smirked. "How could I face Lyra if I made her a widow so soon after coaxing her down the aisle!"

"I don't think this is the time for jokes!" Hermione cried, hotly

"There's always time for jokes," Sirius hushed back, kissing Hermione's forehead delicately. "And by doing this we can make sure there always will be. You just focus on taking care of yourself. And just think ... we'll have some cracking stories to tell each other when this is all over!"

"And Lyra will be cracking your kneecaps, just to make sure you don't do anything so brave and foolhardy again!" Hermione giggled. "Just when did you become so noble ... and how did we all miss it? I'm deeply suspicious, you know!"

"I could be wrong, but I think I have a little Godson to blame for that," Sirius chuckled, winking at Hermione, who grinned with a wide blush. "He's such a terrible influence on me! When you see him, be sure to tell him that I'm going to make him proud. It's high time I pulled my weight in that dynamic ... so here's my chance."

"I don't know when that will be, but I hope it will be soon," Hermione replied, actually whimpering a little at the thought. Then her face dropped as she realised what she'd just said. "Oh, oh! ... that makes me sound so terrible, doesn't it? Like I can't wait to leave Mum and Dad on their own again! Oh dear, I'm such a heartless cow, aren't I?"

"Of course you aren't," Sirius disagreed, vehemently. "Listen, chick, you've been in a whole other world for a good couple of years now, lived a hell of packed life in that time, too. You've started to build a life there, joined a school, made lots of friends ... made one really special one ... I get that you are eager to get back to all that, I really do."

Hermione looked at him in hope. "You do? You're not just saying that? You don't think I sound like the most heartless daughter ever?"

Sirius chuckled deeply. "If there's one thing I know about you, Hermione Granger, it is that you aren't heartless."

"But does that mean you still think I'm a cow then, just one with a heart?" Hermione grinned, shyly.

"Moo, moo!" Sirius teased. "No, Hermione, I don't think you're a cow. How could you be? You're one of the kindest and most giving young ladies I've ever met."

"Thank you," Hermione blushed. "I just feel so guilty, though, about my parents and what has happened to them ... about this evil that I've brought down on them."

Sirius slid his arm comfortingly around Hermione's shoulders as she sniffed throatily in her anguish. "Hey, you listen to me, chick ... none of this is your fault, are you listening to me? None of it at all. You have done something incredibly brave and courageous ... taken on a huge burden and thrown yourself in the path of some of the most vicious villains any world has ever produced. You put grown adults to shame with your fearless attitude, do you know that?

"You are a bona fide inspiration, Hermione Granger."

Hermione let out a whimper of embarrassed shock and burrowed her face into Sirius's chest.

"I never had a daughter of my own, as you know," Sirius cooed into Hermione's hair. "But if I had, I'd have wished her to be just like you. I know we are playing at being a family back in the other world, and I've never told you this, but I am the proudest pretend father in the world. It's an honour to have you as any sort of daughter, Hermione, an absolute honour.

"Of course, it's a good job that you aren't really my daughter ... as that would make things totally weird for Harry, but making things weird for Harry is one of my most favourite games, so that's a damned shame, too!"

Hermione giggled at that, then she flushed deeply as she pulled back to look questioningly at Sirius. "Why would it be weird for Harry?"

"Either you don't know, or you're pretending not to know," Sirius quirked, shrewdly. "I'm leaning towards it being the latter, but either way I'm not going to tell you. If you've learned your feminine arts from Lyra, then I'm wary of falling into cleverly-lain traps. Poor Harry, I'll have to warn him about what to expect!"

"That makes me sound very devious and tricksy," Hermione scoffed, lightly. "And I like to think I'm neither."

"Okay then, answer me this ... are you, or are you not, trying to coax Harry into telling you that he likes you, as more than a friend, before you tell him the same thing?" Sirius quipped. "There should be no secrets between us in our pretend Daddy and Daughter relationship, you know!"

"True, but you have Harry's ear, so that complicates things!" Hermione grinned. "I'm not sure if I can trust you yet."

"You wound me, Proto-Daughter!" Sirius cried in theatrical mock hurt. "Hey, I'm on your side here ... I want you and Harry to get together."

Hermione gasped in her shock. "You do? Why?"

"Simple," Sirius smirked. "You are, quite simply, the best thing to ever happen to Harry, ever. If all I knew about you was how much you look after him, that would be enough ... but you also make him smile, and laugh, and want to be a better human being, just for you ... and that is angelic, too.

"You'd make a wonderful little couple, and I'm sure you'd be a proper girlfriend to him. If Harry doesn't know it by now, well, forgive him for it. He's a Potter, and dense as a doughy Yorkshire Pudding sometimes! It's a failing with the males of that family. But if he doesn't buck his ideas up soon, I'll set Lily on the case ... because she agrees with all this, too."

Hermione blinked in stunned surprise. "Harry's Mum? She ... she ... what?!"

"She likes you very much," Sirius replied, conservatively. "Let's just leave it at that. But I think you know all of this anyway, and you're just channelling some of Lyra's artfulness by pretending not to!"

"What artfulness?" Hermione frowned, affronted.

"Lyra wanted to marry me, but wanted me to confess that I loved her first," Sirius explained, patiently. "She likes to think that it tilts the power balance in our relationship in her favour, but I have a few schemes of my own to pull on her yet. And I rather think that something similar may be going on with you and my Godson."

"Go on then, enlighten me," Hermione smirked, doing a passable impression of Lyra's best pout.

"I think you like Harry ... I think that you've liked him for a long time," Sirius began, shrewdly.

"Of course I like him, he's my best friend ... it would be weird if I didn't like him," Hermione cut across. "Hardly Sherlock Holmes-level deduction so far, Daddy Number Two!"

Sirius grinned back, liking the sound of Hermione's teasing new name for him far more than he knew he ought to.

"I know that Harry is your best friend," Sirius ploughed on. "But I think that you like him as more than that, would like to be more than that to him, only you are waiting for Harry to tell you that he wants you to be, too. For what it's worth, I'm pretty sure that he does, but he needs to learn the vocabulary to tell you about it. Don't hold your breath for that to happen quickly, mind you ... he had James as a role model, after all! How am I doing so far?"

Hermione blushed shyly and turned her eyes down. "Better than I did at concealing it all. Am I really so obvious?"

"So you do like Harry then? You'd like to be more than friends with him?"

Hermione chanced a tiny, barely perceptible nod without looking up, wringing her hands anxiously as she did so. Serafina smiled knowingly next to her and gave her shoulder an encouraging squeeze. Hermione grinned shyly back, but voice was miniscule when she spoke to Sirius again. "Don't tell him, though. Please?"

"I wont, I promise," Sirius assured her. "But why don't you?"

"It's ... complicated."

"Romance always is," Sirius laughed. "Just look at me and Lyra! Cant get much more convoluted than that!"

"Oh, you can ... trust me on that," Hermione mumbled. "And where Harry and I are concerned, the complication reaches new standards!"

Sirius turned to her in deep thoughtfulness. "What don't I know about this ... about you? Is there something you've been keeping from us me? Maybe keeping from Harry, too?"

Hermione looked up as though she'd been reprimanded, her eyes almost pleading for understanding. "It's my biggest secret. Lyra and Mal know about it, and Serafina does, too. But it's so important that Harry doesn't ... not till I'm ready to tell him, anyway. "

Now Sirius' attention was caught. He stopped walking and faced Hermione fully, his body taut and curiosity piqued. "Please tell me that Harry wont be hurt by whatever this is."

"No! Of course he wont!" Hermione cried, passionately. "I would never do anything to hurt Harry! I'd hurt myself before I did that ... I have, actually."

"You've hurt yourself?" Sirius asked in concern. "How?"

"When I Separated from Papageno," Hermione replied. "I had to. It was the only way we could travel to your world ... and I just had to do that ... I had to get there, had to meet Harry."

"To help him with this destiny that you have together?"

"Yes, but not just for that," Hermione went on, sheepishly. "There's more to it than I've told Harry yet ... and Lyra was carelessly talking about it out loud, on that night before we left Trollesund ... the night that my parents were attacked. It was just lucky that Harry's sleep is denser than a block of lead and he didn't hear a thing."

"Ah!" Sirius nodded as comprehension came to him. "So, this is all to do with you being told that you'd fall in love in another world?"

Hermione looked timidly down at her shoes again ... and gave a tiny nod of confirmation.

Sirius drew in a shocked breath. "Lyra told you about that! Wow. I knew that she'd told you about the destiny part, but I never imagined that she'd told you the rest, too! What a way to warp your poor young mind!"

Hermione nodded in solemn agreement.

"Don't blame Lyra for telling me ... she sort of had to," Hermione explained. "You see, I found out about Harry the very same day that I met Lyra, though I didn't know his name or things like that about him back then, like who he was or anything. Lyra showed me her alethiometer, and the question she asked it for me told her other things, and this set us off on our journey. We didn't know about this destiny that Harry and I share until Serafina told us about it later, because that wasn't what we asked the alethiometer, that wasn't what it told us.

"It only told me that ... that Harry was the boy I was destined to ... to fall in love with," Hermione confessed in a shaky voice.

Sirius smiled warmly back at her, encouraging her to continue.

"That's what I'd asked it, see," Hermione ploughed on quickly while her courage was up. "I was upset that day, feeling a bit low ... some girls in my class had been teasing me that I'd never get a boyfriend. So we asked the alethiometer if I ever would ... and it told me that I'd fall in love with a boy in another world, but that his life was in danger. So I made Lyra take me to find him, to see if I could save him.

"On the way we met Serafina, here. She told us that Harry was the subject of a prophecy, too, but you know all about that one. What you probably don't know ... which is what Serafina told me ... is that Harry has a secret power that, somehow, I can unlock in him ... but only if we fall in love. But it cant be forced, it has to develop naturally."

"But how were you so sure that you'd fall in love with him, if you ever even found him?" Sirius queried. "There were no guarantees, were there? What if he'd turned out to be a nasty piece of work?"

"Pap and I were really worried about that, too, for pretty much all of our journey," Hermione replied. "But that was the risk we took. Luckily, Harry turned out to be lovelier than I could ever have imagined. I've come to see it as a reward for my courage in even setting out on this adventure to start with!"

Sirius barked out a laugh. "Yes, I can see how you might! And I can also sort of see why you cant tell him any of this ... or how you feel about him."

Hermione nodded sadly. "If I tell him our real destiny, he might try to force it to happen. You know how chivalrous he is ... he'd see it as doing the right thing to try and fulfil it. Only it wouldn't be ... at least, not like that. And I'm worried that if I tell him I like him, without being utterly sure about how he feels about me, then I'd be pretty much doing the same thing. Harry wouldn't want to hurt my feelings, I don't think, so he might go out with me even if he didn't like me back in that way. So I have to wait for him to come to me, just so I'm sure."

"Wow," Sirius replied, rubbing his chin. "That's one hell of a situation, isn't it?"

"I told you it was complicated," Hermione grimaced. "And it gets worse."

"Worse? How?"

Hermione swallowed guiltily. "I was awake on that last night in Lapland. I heard everything that you were all talking about ... but I didn't know anything about all this life partner business Lyra mentioned. She'd never told me any of that. But we ... that is, Pap and I ... aren't so sure that it means what Lyra thinks it does. It might, but it might not just as easily. And with the fates of both our words hanging in the balance, I have to be so careful with what I know and what I do, which may or may not be the same as what I want to do.

"So, you see ... it's about as complicated as it gets!

"Yes, I'm starting to see that," Sirius quirked. "I have to say this, Hermione, but you doing what you've done already, making all these sacrifices ... and especially by you continuing to carry this heavy knowledge all on your own, just to bring your light to Harry ... it only makes me respect you ten times more. You are an incredible young witch, I hope you know that."

Hermione looked up with a warm, grateful smile. "I did think that you might assume that I went to that world to try and make Harry love me just because of some stupid prophecy, and not for the right reasons, when you knew about this. That would definitely count as devious and tricksy!"

Sirius laughed again. "Oh no, Hermione, I'm quite sure that the reasons you like Harry are purely natural and genuine. Like I said, I'd be delighted for you to get together. I will be, when it finally happens."

"You say that as though it's a foregone conclusion," Hermione mumbled, shyly. "What makes you so sure?"

"I've seen how Harry is around you, how his face literally glows when he talks about you ... which is pretty much all the time!" Sirius explained, smiling as Hermione flushed crimson. "He's so smitten with you ... it's actually quite amazing that he hasn't realised it yet. I think he must be the only one who hasn't. Well, maybe apart from you.

"Not only that, but he frequently touches Papageno, even now that he understands perfectly well these days how intimate such contact really is. You realise it, I assume ... realise that only lovers and spouses touch each other's dæmons in that sort of way?"

Hermione nodded coyly. "I do. I've always known, I've just never told Harry that."

"And yet that still isn't enough for you?"

"No," Hermione replied, shaking her head. "And until Harry realises it, that's how it will stay."

"And how will you know when he's joined you there?" Sirius asked.

"Oh, that's easy. I'll know when Harry lets me touch Marici ... or, more than that ... when he wants me to," Hermione explained. "When he accepts and desires my touch on his dæmon, I'll know then that he feels for me what I feel for him. Then it'll be safe to tell him everything ... assuming I stop kissing him long enough to let us have proper conversation again!"

Sirius laughed deeply again. "And I cant tell him any of this? What a pity. He'll be so cross with me when he finds out that I knew in advance, and didn't give him something to look forward to. It will be rather hilarious ... though he might not talk to me for a while!"

"I know how that feels ... and it's the absolute worst," Hermione mumbled, glumly. "I haven't spoken to Harry for weeks, and it's actually starting to hurt a bit now. I genuinely feel bruised inside. I do hope he's doing okay without me. Well, actually, I don't ... if you know what I mean."

Sirius smirked deeply. "You're hoping that he's all desolate and depressed that you are so far away, I suppose. Something like that, am I right?"

"Something like that," Hermione blushed. "It was very good of Pan to offer to take him a letter for me, but it's not the same, really. He's probably reading the letter right about now, but I'd much prefer to hear the sound of his voice, his laugh, even his terrible jokes. I miss all that."

"You'll hear them again, soon enough ... because as soon as Serafina has your parents settled, I think we'd better start making plans to get you back to Hogwarts."

Hermione and Sirius both snapped their heads around to Lyra, who had stepped into the triage centre unnoticed by either. Serafina had been trying to tell them that Lyra was there, but they didn't stop nattering long enough to give the witch a chance to cut in.

"What do you mean?" asked Sirius, deeply serious at the sound of Lyra's grave tone. "Is there a new danger we ought to know about?"

"A little one, yes," Lyra replied, curtly. "Mal and Didier brought me some very curious intelligence from their meeting with the other Agents of Oakley Street. Turns out that Serafina was right, and that the Magisterium's aims aren't confined to this world alone anymore."

"Go on," Sirius encouraged with a worried frown.

"I assume that Serafina has told you what she told Mal and Didier ... about this spell that is being developed by Thomas Riddle, to control both dæmons and magic?" Lyra asked, to which Sirius nodded that she had. "Well, they cant do much about the magic side of things, but before they can target dæmons and Dust in this world, they want to get rid of their mortal enemy ... someone who has made a habit of thwarting all their plans to achieve those aims in the past ...

"... and that enemy just happens to be me."

Sirius growled angrily, and Hermione raced to Lyra, clinging to her body in protective support.

"And just how do they intend to do this?" Sirius sniped.

"They know that I can call on the protection of magic now ... from my husband," Lyra bristled, fiercely. "So they are sending a magical assassin to kill me. As we speak, there are plans afoot to break her out of a high-security magical prison, something called 'Azkaban'. It might even have happened already. You should know her, Sirius ... because my alethiometer told me that she is a relative of yours."

"A relative ... of mine?" Sirius queried, frowning. "Who is it?"

"Her name is a strange one ... or, more accurately, a Lestrange one," Lyra snarled. "Because that's her name ... Lestrange ... Bellatrix Lestrange. And I want to get back to that world as soon as possible, find her first, and put a bullet right between her Lestrange little eyes.

"Because if some psycho witch thinks that I'm just going to sit around and do nothing while she threatens me or, God help her, if she places herself as a threat to my Hermione, as a way to get to me ... then she really doesn't know who she's getting herself mixed up with at all!

"So, while we're waiting for you to decide that the time is right for you to go back to Hogwarts, Hermione, let's go and have a chat about what my alethiometer told me on the day we met. You can ask me, or it, or both, any question that you feel you need to. And then I have a few questions of my own ... namely about where my husband developed this streak of heroism from! I'm with you Hermione ... it all seems very suspicious, and I'm just dying to get to the bottom of it!"