The Hogwarts grounds were laid out in a peculiar sort of way. The castle itself was North-fronting, with the main entranceway pointing that direction and out towards Hagrid's hut and the Forbidden Forest beyond. Hogsmeade village and train station were in a roughly North-Easterly position and the Great Lake marked the Western perimeter of the school grounds.

It was a nice sunny Sunday, so Harry decided to take a walk down to see Hagrid before heading off to the Shrieking Shack to meet Neville. He approached the gamekeeper's cabin and saw that Hagrid was busy cultivating some giant pumpkins in his garden already, no doubt growing them to the enormous size they needed to be to adorn the Great Hall for the annual Halloween Ball in a couple of months.

"Hiya, Hagrid," Harry announced chirpily, from a spot hidden from view by a particularly bulbous pumpkin.

"Gallopin' Gargoyles, Harry! Ya scared me there!" Hagrid cried, clutching at his chest. "Don' normally find you up this early on a Sunday."

"It's Hermione's fault," Harry replied breezily, stepping into full view with a cheeky grin. "She always used to send me early messages using these Muggle communication devices that we both have. I suppose I've just been conditioned to rise early now. Sorry for startling you."

"I can think of better ways to start my day," the Keeper of the Keys chuckled. "Fancy a proper cuppa in my hut, do ya? I don' think much of the Elven ditchwater that passes for tea up at the castle, either!"

"Sounds great, if you're offering!" Harry sniggered, before following Hagrid away from the pumpkin patch and into the log cabin. Fang bounded up to greet them, leaping up at Harry so that his front legs were either side of Harry's head before slobbering all over his cheeks.

"Down, Fang!" Hagrid barked. "Sorry 'bout his meaty breath, Harry. He's just had breakfast."

"It's fine," Harry grimaced, wiping the essence of diced lamb in jelly from his face and stepping through into Hagrid's hut.

"So, speaking of Miss Hermione, any idea when she's due back?" Hagrid asked, taking the kettle from over the fireplace and pouring the steaming water into one of his chipped mugs.

"No, unfortunately," Harry replied, ruefully. "We haven't heard anything about that yet."

"And how was the funeral?"

"The what?" Harry replied, before quickly remembering his ruse. "Oh, right, the funeral. Well, it went like all funerals I suppose. A lot of tears, a lot of reminiscing stories, that sort of thing. Hermione didn't say much about it, to be honest ... when I last heard from her, you know."

"Well, I've got something that might cheer her right up," Hagrid grinned. "Or, maybe it'd be better sayin', my next lesson does."

"Why? What do you have planned?" Harry queried, blowing his red-hot tea to cool it. "Is it more exciting than flobberworms?"

Hagrid chuckled deeply at that. "Wasn' the most excitin' first class was it? But Dumbledore advised me to start small, just to get the hang of it. Great man, Dumbledore. But now I'm going to step it up a bit, show you all a treat."

"What is it?"

"Hippogriffs, Harry," Hagrid announced proudly. "Half giant eagle, half mare. They're quite beau'iful, once you get passed the shock."

"A creature that's half-bird, half-horse?" Harry frowned. "Seriously, how does that even happen? Someone needs to have a word with the magical geneticists. Where will it stop? Cross-breeding manticores with fire-crabs?"

"You know, tha's not a bad idea," Hagrid considered, rubbing his rugged beard thoughtfully.

"I was joking, Hagrid ..."

"Oh, oh ... so was I," Hagrid replied, hurriedly, though his eyes betrayed how fast his mind was whirring.

"So, what do I need to know about hippogriffs?" Harry went on, trying to get the subject back on track. "I want to show off in your lessons but I'm a but scared of opening The Monster Book of Monsters to learn how!"

"Yeah, they can be a bit brutal," Hagrid chortled. "I thought they were funny."

"Mmm, but you also tried to raise a fire-breathing dragon in a wooden house," Harry smirked, causing Hagrid's skin to redden. "It's your uniqueness, Hagrid, and we all love it ... so long as it doesn't try to eat, kill or maim us!"

"I'll keep tha' in mind for the future!" Hagrid boomed in a deep laugh. "But yeah, hippogriffs next week. They're really proud creatures, are hippogriffs. They gotta come to you, then you gotta bow to 'em before they let you near 'em. Loyal beasts though, and if you fly on one you'll be blessed by eternal love. Symbols of love they are, see, in some cultures."

"Symbols of love?" Harry scoffed derisively. "A half-bird, half-horse hybrid is a symbol of love? Hearts, flowers, pretty things like that are symbols of love ... how in the hell does a flying horse make the list?"

"It's the mythology, see," Hagrid explained. "A mare and a griffin, which is what an eagle is sometimes known as. They are natural enemies, so their offspring is seen as overcoming that, of love triumphing over the impossible, which is what a bird and horse mating should be, enemies or not."

"I think I see," Harry replied, scrunching his face as he tried to imagine the beast in his mind. "So it's sort of like overcoming all obstacles so that love can prevail, and the hippogriff is the child of that?"

"Exactly," Hagrid nodded. "And that'll be worth ten House points if you say it in my class next week. And if you ever ride a hippogriff with a special girl, it will be worth so much more!"

Harry made a mental note about that ... if he ever managed to get Hermione anywhere near a hippogriff, bundle her on board and take a flight with her to see what all the fuss is about.

Harry spent about half an hour with Hagrid, finishing his tea and doing his best to eat some rock cakes that were so hard that Harry half wondered if Hagrid had baked them with actual rocks. Making an excuse about getting some sun into his pasty skin, Harry bade Hagrid a cheery farewell and hurried off into the wilderness of Hogwarts and the direction of the Shrieking Shack, which stood high in the rocks above one of the more desolate parts of the Great Lake

Harry climbed the large series of craggy hills that flanked the main body of the lake, which was much more significant than the part of it that had been swelled to greater prominence in front of the school buildings themselves. Harry and Hermione had spent many happy hours under the old oak tree on the shore there, and Harry fondly recalled sneaking her out of the castle for the first birthday he'd known her for, where they had a feast of sweets under the Scottish moonlight.

But, Harry soon learned, there would be no such joys this year. For as he slowly began to read through the letter from her, it became clear that she had no idea when she might be back at all.

Harry climbed and climbed, both up and down hill, until the castle was completely obscured in the distance. At this height, the grassy shelf of the land was replaced by loose shale, parched mud and an outcrop of razor sharp rocks at the cliff edge. Harry had never considered it before, but nature, or perhaps even someone, had gone to great lengths to make this place as inaccessible as possible, or to deter even the most hardy of highland trekkers from exploring further.

Undeterred and now safe from prying eyes, Harry took out Marici and resized her, then set her to keep watch at the highest vantage point she could reach away from him, before the tug on their human/dæmon connection became too painful to bear. But not before she went too far and came bounding back, her whimpering like a kitten and he pale and clammy, until she and Harry had soothed each other enough to try again, but taking far more care this time.

Then Harry began to read.

August 30 th, Osloe, Njørway.

Hi Harry, hope you're doing okay!

By now you should be back in school and getting on with all your work. I hope you haven't been overloaded with too much homework on your first week, not without me there to do it all for you! Just kidding, you do as much of mine as I do yours, as you well know! I was hoping to be able to tell you that I'd be back to be your study partner again soon, but that isn't looking likely anytime in the near future.

Lyra thinks it will take almost a week to reach Lake Enara, where Serafina Pekkala and her witches live. They are going to look after Mum and Dad, and I really hope they know some sort of magic to try and help them, because I think they are getting worse. Mum was better yesterday, and I was even able to speak to her once or twice, but it's the first time that Dad has gone all day without being able to say a word. I wont lie, Harry, I'm really worried about them. What if they cant be cured? What if they get stuck like this? I almost feel like I'm watching my parents die in front of my eyes, and I've not got you here to tell me how silly I'm being and to not lose hope. I'm trying, Harry, but it's so hard.

I didn't think I'd be able to contact you at all after you left, but Pan offered to make this trip just once to tell you we'd arrived safely. I've told him not to wait for a reply, because I don't want him to feel obliged to be postal service between worlds, and I might totally be tempted to ask if he was willing to do that! But that's really not fair, is it, so I've been brave like a big girl and told him that this is just a one off thing, no matter how hard being out of touch with you is going to be.

I'm so sorry, Harry, that your trip here didn't work out as we'd planned. It was so thoughtful of you to come all this way, and I was getting some great ideas together for things we could do, but maybe, when we eventually work out how to make the worlds safe for us, we can spend some time going around both of them, just because we can. I think I'd really like that.

I have to go, our sled is ready to take us back onto the ice. I just wanted to let you know that I was doing alright, and I'll be counting the days until everything is right again and I can come back to Hogwarts. Look after Marici and don't go getting into any trouble! You know how hopeless you are without me!

Take care and I'll see you soon (I hope!)

Love from

Hermione xx

Harry read the letter three times from top bottom before finally folding it away, his heart heavy from the understanding that Hermione was a whole world away with little idea if she would ever be coming back again.

Marici seemed to sense the turn in Harry's mood. She padded back to him and butted her great head against Harry's face, knocking his glasses askew in her eagerness to cheer him up.

"Bad news?" the lioness dæmon asked.

Harry sighed heavily. "Yes, but it's not unexpected. Hermione is safe, she'll be with Serafina and her witches soon ... but she has no idea when she'll be back."

"So we'll be missing her birthday, too, then?"

"It seems so," Harry moped, feeling intensely sad that he was missing everything to do with Hermione just a little too much.

"Try to look on the bright side," Marici soothed cheerily. "At least we knows she's safe. That's something. Actually, with everything that's going on, it's a really good thing."

"Yes, you're right," Harry agreed, trying to force brightness into himself. "And she wouldn't want us to be going around so morose, would she? So, what shall we do while we wait for Neville? Shall we have a look around inside the Shrieking Shack? I've always wondered what a hut like this is doing out here on the rocks as it is."

"I don't know, Harry," Marici fretted. "It's very dangerous to try and climb down there. I think it must be so hard to reach for a reason."

"Even more reason to find out what it is!" Harry twittered mischievously, the light of adventure in his eyes again. "Come on, let's take a look."

"Alright, but be very careful," Marici warned. "How would we explain this recklessness to Hermione if we took a fall?"

"Pfft!" Harry scoffed. "She'd expect it of us!"

"That doesn't make it any better, Harry."

"You stay up here if you want to be coward," Harry teased. "But it's quite a way down. It'll stretch out our connection further than we've ever been ... and if it snaps, it'll be your fault."

"Oh, come on then," Marici huffed. "But let's be quick. I don't think Neville can make it down here. He's not exactly built for tricky hiking!"

Harry chuckled at that. Neville did have an issue with his slightly rotund build, and maybe Marici was right that he'd struggle to keep his balance in this terrain. But Harry was stirred in his curiosity now and was keen to see inside the rickety old cabin. So he carefully picked his way through the rocks and uneven dirt and stones under foot until he reached the building.

It was in shocking condition, as was to be expected from a hut perched right in the face of the fierce Highland weather. Exposed and uncovered, the paintwork on the flaking beams was dull and dirty, the smashed windows were barred by thick planks across the frames and, as Harry looked through them, he could see that there were deep gouges along the wall that looked suspiciously like ...

"Scratch marks," Marici confirmed, as she knelt down to sniff them. They'd managed, with some considerable effort, to shivvy the door open enough for Harry's skinny frame to slide through. Marici could only get inside once Harry had shrunk her to a suitable size.

"But scratches from what?" Harry hushed. "These gashes are massive! They'd have to have been made by something with claws as big as yours!"

"Maybe there are wildcats in the vales up here," Marici pondered. "Perhaps one got in through a window, got stuck, and tried to claw its way out."

That caused Harry's skin to tingle with icy prickles. "Or, what if something was purposely trapped in here then tried to scratch it's way out? I mean, look! There are fresh shavings on the floorboards! Some of these scratches were made recently."

"But what sort of thing could make them?"

Harry was about to reply, when he was suddenly disturbed by voices echoing from behind a door to the left that he hadn't seen before. It was really low down on the wall and was in two sections, one of which looked more like a trapdoor.

"Someone's coming!" Marici hissed, lowly.

"Yes, I realise that!" Harry snapped back. "But from where? There must be a passageway down there, but where does it go?"

"Who knows? Maybe back to the school!" Marici whispered. "There could be a whole labyrinth of tunnels underground or something! Things that link the Chamber of Secrets and that place they kept the Philosopher's Stone and here and ... who knows where else!"

"Perhaps, but that has to be an adventure for later," Harry muttered. "For now we just need to ... hide!"

But where to? The main room of the Shack was sparse, populated only by a filthy old chair that had been torn to shreds. The voices were closer now ... too indistinct to make out words ... but Harry thought he recognised a voice ... and it filled him with cold dread.

"Snape!" Harry hissed, his anxiety pulsing in his neck. "If he catches us here, Chi, we're finished!"

"Quick! The cupboard under the stairs! It's all we've got!" Marici hushed desperately.

Harry dived over to it and pulled open the door. He baulked a second as he saw how dark it would be inside, then took a steeling breath, thought of Hermione for courage, and squeezed into the cramped, spider-filled space and pulled the door shut. It was pitch black, claustrophobic, and Harry had a weird sense of deja-vu ... as though remembering a snatched memory of another life ... and then the voices sounded loud and clear in the room beyond.

Crouching just inside the door, Harry pressed his ear to the tiny gap he'd left open to listen to the conversation as it passed over him. He heard a dull, heavy thud, as though something large had been dropped onto the wooden floorboards. Harry wildly thought it sounded like something dead.

"Drink that Lupin, do it immediately," Harry heard Professor Snape say.

"I will. Thank you, Severus," Lupin replied.

"I have brewed an entire cauldron full, if you need more," Snape went on.

"I imagine I will need some more tomorrow night, before the moon rises," Lupin considered. "I will come to collect another goblet after my lessons are finished."

"You should find cover for your classes for the next few days," Snape answered in a cold tone. "You are teaching mostly older students at the start of the week, I understand. Some of those girls will have passed the age of menstruation ... you are too much of a risk to be around them with your ... ahem ... sickness. We wouldn't want you running a Fever, now would we?"

Harry heard Lupin sigh deeply. His own heart was beating rapidly. Why was Snape warning Lupin to stay away from teenage girls? Had they traded one deviant Defence teacher for a predator even more dangerous? Harry fumed silently as he considered the possibility.

"No ... perhaps you are right," Lupin replied, lowly. "I shall speak to the Headmaster, pitch your suggestion to him."

"Is there anything else you need?" Snape asked, firmly.

"No, I have a fresh carcass ... thank you for procuring that for me, too ... and the walls and windows seem secure. There will be no escaping from this place tonight."

"Very well, I shall return to the school," Snape replied in a cool tone, before Harry heard the sound of his long cloak swishing against the floorboards as he moved away. What was this all about?

But Harry didn't have much time to think about that, as the sound of scrapes and dragging reached him as Lupin drew closer. He must have been dragging that ... what did he call it? ... carcass ... with him, as Harry felt bump after bump pound above him, as Lupin hauled whatever it was up the stairs. Harry didn't want to think it, but each deep thud sounded like the sort of noise that a lolling head might make if pulled along in that sort of way. Harry felt a thrill of terror as the thought flitted across his mind.

Then the dragging could be heard in a room off to the right.

"Quick, Harry!" Marici cried in a tiny whisper. "Go! Now!"

Harry obeyed on reflex. Leaving the door to the cupboard under the stairs wide open, he flew across the dank hall and main room, back to the front door and through the gap he'd left, up the steep incline of the cliff in a frantic scramble, ignoring the ways the sharp rocks sliced and pricked at his skin, and then it was a full-pelt run back across the rolling hills, without a care for whether Lupin might have heard his movements and seen him out of an upper floor window of the Shack.

Harry didn't stop running until he was back in the familiar shadow of the Entrance Hall, where he fell against the door frame to catch his breath and nurse a stabbing stitch in his ribs.

"W-what the he-hell was t-that?" Harry panted to Marici.

"I don't know, Harry, but it was very worrying, whatever it was."

"Why aren't you puffed out?" Harry asked, crossly.

"Well, I haven't run anywhere!" Marici quirked. "But my heart is beating as hard as yours, if it makes you feel better."

"It doesn't," Harry huffed.

"Harry! There you are! Thank goodness you're alright!"

Harry looked up to see Neville vaulting the stairs two at a time to get down to him. For a wild moment he wondered if he'd seen Lupin, too, and was worried that Harry had been the body now being hacked up to pieces in the Shrieking Shack. Harry had no idea that there was any hacking going on at all, of course, but his speeding brain was able to convince him of anything in his delirious state.

"Why wouldn't I be alright?" Harry managed to puff out.

"Some of the girls have just come from having an afternoon tea with the Divination teacher, Professor Trelawney," Neville explained. "And I was trying to stop you going to the Shrieking Shack or anything dangerous like that because of something she said ..."

"What makes the Shrieking Shack dangerous?" Harry asked, suspiciously.

"Well, the hundred foot drop to the lake and the maze of razor-sharp rocks for a start!" Neville cried, sardonically. "What else do you need?"

Harry narrowed his eyes. "Fair enough ... but what did this Divination teacher have to say?"

"Professor Trelawney was looking at crystal balls with Parvati and Lavender and some of the Third Year 'Claws," Neville replied, lowly. "And one of them saw a Grim ... that's a serious Death Omen if you didn't know ... connected to Hogwarts and one of its students ... a student that she says will die this year.

"To tell the truth, Harry, the student that she saw was you ... she saw your death, mate ... and the whole school will be talking about it by lunchtime."