Harry took a while to process the words as he made his way around the little clearing. There was a sweeping, highly decorated, arc-shaped altar on the far side of the circular space behind Cúchulainn, and that wide tree-stump that Harry had collided with was in the dead centre. It, too, looked as if it were used for ritual. There was evidence of slight charring as if candles had burned down to their wicks, and remnants of flowers and berries that had been left as offerings or as part of elaborate spells.

"Why have you been expecting me?" Harry suddenly blurted out, wondering if he was going to be part of some ritual, possibly as a sacrifice himself.

"We Tuatha are skilled at divination," Cúchulainn explained in that obscenely low voice. "We have seen your coming not just in a physical sense, but in terms of time, also. And now ... here you are."

"If you knew I was coming, why didn't you try harder to stop me?"

Cúchulainn smiled at him. "Perhaps we wanted you to arrive. Perhaps we needed you to."

"I don't understand that," Harry frowned. "All the weather, all the obstacles ... if you wanted me to get here, why not make it easier?"

"For there are others who would wish you not to reach this place," Cúchulainn explained darkly. "And they are the ones who have attempted to hinder your progress."

"And where are we, exactly?" Harry asked, looking around again. "What is this place?"

"This is the Gateway ... and as far as you can travel into High Brasil in your current form. To go further, you would need to give your life in exchange for passage."

Harry swallowed hard. "Um ... this will do just nicely, then."

Cúchulainn laughed deeply. "Indeed. In any case, Harry Potter, it is not your time to die just yet. You have many important tasks to achieve in your life, goals that you will not attain if you are dead. And the first of those has brought you to me."

Harry blinked in surprise. "Saving Hermione is one of my destinies?"

"It is," Cúchulainn nodded. "For together you must defeat a great evil that pervades many worlds. Only united as one will you succeed."

"Tom Riddle," Harry scythed bitterly. "You're talking about him, aren't you?"

"That individual is but one player, one adversary you must face," Cúchulainn replied gravely. "He is a great rival to be sure, but do not imagine him the only one."

"Then who are the others?"

"Some are from this world, others from that world where your partner in this destiny originated," Cúchulainn explained. "But there are others in worlds you have yet to encounter ... as well as demons from within that you are too young to have yet been tested against."

"Do you mean the Spectres?" Harry asked. "They only attack adults, don't they? Is that what you're on about?"

"No, Harry Potter. These enemies do not have physical form and cannot be defeated by any craft you might understand. But defeated they must be, and you will need to stay true to her in order to be victorious."

Harry scowled in his confusion, but he didn't have time to work out more riddles.

"Okay, I'll deal with that when I have to," Harry huffed. "But for now, I have to help Hermione however I can. If you have let me come this far in order to help me, then will you please show me how?"

"What is it that you have come here to seek?" Cúchulainn asked.

"I don't know, exactly," Harry began. "I was told only that the way to save my friend could be found here. She was attacked by a great serpent - a basilisk - and Petrified by its Stare. None of our Potions or medicines can reverse the damage being done to her, but I'm hoping something here might. You have to help me, Mr Cúchulainn ... my friend will suffer a fate worse than death if I cant do anything for her."

"You care deeply for this girl, enough to risk your life in order to save hers?"

Harry nodded. "If I could take her place, I would. If I can learn something that would take the damage into myself, but that she'd be alright, I would do it in a heartbeat. My mind is rubbish compared to hers ... I probably wouldn't know the difference if I woke up one day to find it was broken.

"But Hermione ... her mind is extraordinary. It's beautiful, even. I don't know if it's the most beautiful thing about her, and there's certainly much more to her than just her intelligence, but it's integral to who she is. And I like who she is ... very, very much. I love it when she teaches me things, when she speaks so vivaciously about a subject that impassions her, that her whole face lights up with the fervour. I could just sit and watch for hours and be happier for it.

"And she seems to like teaching me things, too. I would call it her favourite hobby if that didn't sound so weird. And she just loves when I remember things, like when I put something into an essay for extra credit that she might have forgotten. I've seen her sneak passages into her own work when she thinks I'm not looking, just to get a higher mark. You should have seen her face when she found out I was named Best Student of the Year. She looked like she wanted to kiss me, she was that proud of me.

"But I never got around to telling her how warm and happy that made me, to have impressed her so much. There's so many times I could have, and so many similar things that I should have said. But I thought I had loads of time, when in fact it would have been the work of barely a moment for me to say those things to her. I suppose I was afraid to open my heart like that. I'd never felt the need to before."

Cúchulainn smiled warmly as Harry drew breath. "You ... using your mind to impress her mind ... then hoping the response of her heart would give you what your heart wanted. The symmetry is almost divinely designed, wouldn't you say, Harry Potter?"

Harry flushed scarlet. "I don't know about that!"

"Then perhaps you should focus on the feeling half of this dynamic and defer the higher thinking to your friend," Cúchulainn replied.

"I can live with that," Harry grinned shyly. "But I have to make sure her mind is intact so that I can. Is there a way? I was told about a book ... the Book of Dust. Can it help me?"

"Ah, you really did do the thing properly," Cúchulainn laughed. "And what were you told about the Book?"

"Not much, only that it would allow me to learn a counter spell that could save my friend," Harry confessed. "Is that right?"

"It can be done, but it does the Book of Dust a disservice," said Cúchulainn. "Come, let me show it to you."

Harry approached the altar and looked around. It was made of heavy, grey stone, the back part was carved in an intricate Celtic lattice pattern, and there was a raised, stone lectern at the heart of it. A huge tome lay open on the lectern, and markings and symbols rose on the centre pages before falling away, in a constant cycle of motion. It was a little dizzying to watch.

"This is the Book of Dust?" Harry asked reverently.

"It is."

"What's it doing? What are all those markings? They are vanishing before I have a chance to read them."

"The more precise question would be what does it do," Cúchulainn replied with a wry smile. "Can you guess?"

Harry scrunched up his brow. "I was told that it tells you things. But it seems to be forgetting them, too."

"You aren't wholly wrong," Cúchulainn began. "The Book of Dust is nothing, more or less, than the method by which Earthly beings access The Akashic Record. Do you know what that is?"

"The dragons - who told me about the Book and this place - mentioned it, but I have never heard of it before."

"The Akashic Record is the accumulated knowledge, memories and experience of the life of the entire universe and everything in it," Cúchulainn explained in a whispered tone. "It is alternately known as the collective unconscious ... a universal field of knowledge which has indescribable size and scope. Those who learn to tune into it can find the answers to any question or problem they are faced with.

"The early Druid mystics, wizards and wise men of the Tuatha De Danaan wrote this Book, with the help of beings they called The Shining Ones. It put the access to the Record in terms they could understand and interact with. Eventually, the tribe grew so wise they became like The Shining Ones, and the fusion was complete."

Harry blinked in surprise. "So they became beings made of Dust ... they became like gods?"

"Or did we merely return to that state?" Cúchulainn asked shrewdly. "The stories tell us that Dust came to the Tuatha, but that the Tuatha ourselves gave rise to it. The paradox can be confusing. The most important part is that we became Enlightened by the experience. And we wished to enlighten all life in the same way, so that they could become Beings of Light, too."

"Become enlightened," Harry breathed . "Literally become made of light!"

"Which should be the goal for us all," Cúchulainn nodded back.

"Is ... is that what Hermione and I must do?" Harry muttered lowly. "Become Enlightened?"

"And bring light to the world as far as you can," came the reply. "And your many tasks and destinies will help you on your way to that end. But this Book is no short-cut to it. It will give you the answers you seek, but can impart neither wisdom nor sense. Those things you can find only through experience and emotional growth."

"But others have sought it as a short-cut, I'm guessing?"

"Correct again. Which is why it is encoded in this way, so that only those truest of heart and mind can unlock its secrets. But a true Adept will always find those answers by looking inside."

"An Adept?" Harry hushed, as a memory of a long-forgotten life popped to the surface of his brain. "Like in alchemy ... like with the emerald tablet!"

"Books, emerald tablets, Chinese divining sticks ... all trinkets to find easy answers," Cúchulainn replied, dismissively. "Your journey to Enlightenment, Harry Potter, will be a voyage internally as much as externally. Many have paused at such an abyss, pondered the difficultly of the crossing, and sought simpler solutions ... and gained lesser rewards. I urge you not to do so."

"The only reward I want is to bring my friend back to me healthy and well," Harry responded firmly. "That is all I want from the Book of Dust right now. So, can you help me use it?"

Cúchulainn smiled. "I can. What do you understand about serpent language?"

"Very little," Harry confessed. "But somehow I can understand it, though I have no clue how to speak it back."

"The Stare of the basilisk is a part of its language," Cúchulainn began. "In the same way that human sorcerers use wands and incantations, serpents use body language in addition to their own verbal capabilities."

"So the Stare is like a spell!" Harry exclaimed. "Do flicks of a tail and hisses create certain effects, or something?"

"Precisely right. You are exceedingly bright in your own right, Harry Potter! Perhaps we have gotten this dynamic backwards!"

"No," Harry laughed. "Hermione is far cleverer than me. But I'm not so hopeless on my own, you know! So ... do you think the basilisk was trying to Petrify, or was it really trying to kill?"

"Who could say? Possibly both?" Cúchulainn suggested. "Your friend is lucky to have not found out the hard way."

Harry gulped at that thought. "So how can I help her? If I can understand serpent language, can I learn the counter-spell?"

"Try not to think of this in terms of spells and magic that you might understand. You are not a serpent, so you cannot create the same effects as one. What you can do is issue pleas and instructions and - if you must - commands."

Harry blinked as he tried to absorb that. "So what are you saying ... I cant reverse the effects of the Stare ... but if I take control of a basilisk I can order it to?"

Cúchulainn nodded in confirmation, which caused Harry to swear to the high heavens.

"How am I supposed to do that!" he cried, incredulously. "I cant control a fifty-foot snake! What am I supposed to do? Guilt trip it, make it see the error of its ways?"

"Did you, or did you not, say that you would do whatever it took to help your friend?"

"Well, yeah, but this wasn't exactly what I had in mind!"

"Then what did you?"

"I don't know," Harry replied off-handedly. "I thought I'd learn a spell, say it to Hermione and she'd just wake up and everything would be alright."

"And how would that help you? What would you learn from that?" asked Cúchulainn.

"This hasn't got anything to do with me!" Harry argued hotly. "I just want to help her, don't you get that?"

"I do, but as you are one of the few people who is able to help her, this is just as much about you as your friend. A spell may be able to save her body, even repair her mind ... but what about her soul?"

Harry felt a shiver tingle over his skin. "What do you mean?"

"A great darkness was sent to harm your friend," Cúchulainn continued. "It took the scent from her parents, crossed worlds via this portal, and sought her out in the same way you sought out the dragons. She evaded it, but it was only drawn to her because she has been infused by that darkness. It acted like a magnet."

"The diary!" Harry gasped. "Then it was her attacking the students! She opened the Chamber of Secrets!"

"No, Harry, the serpent tried to harm her and others were caught in the crossfire," Cúchulainn corrected. "We saw it all. But the fragment of darkness that crossed with the basilisk took control of your friend's mind. It resides there still, though it has been defeated by light and love. It was put there by Dark, serpentine magic ... and only by using it will it be removed completely."

"Then ... I have to learn that magic, so that I can drive it ... no, order it ... out!" Harry murmured.

Cúchulainn nodded. "And she must help you. She has the Mind, you have the Heart ... but you must leave your bodies behind if you are to save her."

"Our dæmons!" Harry hushed as he understood. "They have to do this! They are essentially internal ... so they can go places we cannot!"

"You are beginning to be Enlightened," Cúchulainn smiled. "Your dæmon will understand the things you do not ... the Book can only tell you what you are looking for. The answers, Harry Potter, have been inside you all along."

"Then what am I looking for?" Harry asked, as much to the blank pages of the Book of Dust as the man standing next to him.

And the book responded.

Marici came close to Harry's side. She was so huge her head could have rested on the altar top. She read as the book displayed a series of strange markings that Harry couldn't decipher at all.

"Do you make any sense of that?" Harry asked his dæmon. "I hope so, because it's baffling me!"

"I think they are sounds, Harry! Sounds I have to make!" Marici replied. "Maybe as I'm more animal than you in those sorts of terms, I can understand it when you cant. It looks like a series of hisses."

"The command to wake someone the serpent has attacked," Cúchulainn nodded sagely. "In human tongues we would call it the Hiss of Life."

Harry turned to him. "The Hiss of Life? And Marici has to do this to Papageno somehow?"

"You must awaken Hermione's mind, but to revive her body while she is still in physical danger is a very great risk," Cúchulainn advised. "But her dæmon can help you prevent any further damage, and together you can turn your attention to the serpent ... and force it to your will. Only then can you fully save your friend."

Harry nodded. He was ready to go, right now. He was restless in his urge to return to Hogwarts but wary of the return journey.

"I need to leave now," Harry stated bluntly. "There must be an easier way. Or a quicker one."

Cúchulainn curled his mouth into a grin. "Why do you need a quicker one? The way out is right there."

He nodded and Harry turned, astonished, to see that the sandy beach had replaced the rain-saturated plains. He blinked hard to take it in. Serafina was there, too, laying back against one of the palm trees. Harry turned back to Cúchulainn with a questioning look.

"Time and space are relative things to the Tuatha De Danaan," he explained cryptically.

Harry didn't even know how to begin to understand that. So he focused on what he could do. "Thank you for your help, Mr Cúchulainn. Is there anything I can do to repay you?"

"We have only one task to ask of you," Cúchulainn replied. "Bring lightness to the world. Destroy evil where you find it, allow our influence to spread and Enlighten the world. There are Dark forces who seek to repress and restrict all. Even we cannot hope to triumph against them without help. I was a Champion in my time, Harry Potter ... you must be one in yours."

"I will," Harry vowed faithfully. He turned to his dæmon. "Come on, Chi ... let's wake up one sleeping witch and get her to take us home to another!"

You couldn't Apparate in or out of Hogwarts. It said so in Hogwarts: A History, which Harry had read at least a dozen times. But broomsticks and flying witches could easily breach the borders it seemed.

Or, at least, that was the conclusion Harry came to, as he led the party across the Irish Sea and North to the ancient castle. As Will took his boat back to the Muggle port, Sirius and Lyra took one broom, James and Harry perched on another, and Serafina Pekkala soared alongside them as they raced through the night towards Hogwarts. Harry tried not to laugh as his father sat in a sort of petrified trance, with Marici staring curiously into his face over Harry's shoulder from where she was sat in his lap.

Up over the boundary wall, around the Astronomy Tower and straight to the Hospital Wing, Harry led the group directly to Hermione's bedside. Sirius vanished the window as they entered, with James hurrying to pacify Madam Pomfrey before she caused a scene.

Harry raced right to Hermione's side once they had dismounted. Marici rounded the bed and stood on her hind legs to sniff at the statue-still girl.

"She's still alive, Harry! I can feel her breath on my nose!"

"I know!" Harry breathed in wonder. "I can too! Sort of. This is so weird!"

"We'll get used to it," Marici promised in a purr. Then she moved her great head near to Hermione's. "If I lick her face, do you think she'll mind?"

"Maybe not, but I will!"

Harry gulped deep, mindlessly terrified of what it would feel like if his dæmon actually touched Hermione. Or touched anyone, as a matter of fact. He felt Marici's external new nature as something tender and vulnerable, and a little fragile if he was honest. It was like a wound that hadn't fully closed just yet. He hadn't even let his father anywhere near her, and of course Lyra and Sirius knew to keep their distance. He wondered what his mother would think when she met the lioness that had lived inside her little boy?

"You mustn't touch. It isn't allowed," Harry told his dæmon, firmly.

"But you touch Pap ..."

"Yeah, but that's different."

"Not really. I think I'd quite like Hermione to touch me. She smells soft."

"I think I might like it too, eventually," Harry agreed. "But she has to want to before we let her. She knows about how taboo it is ... she has to be the one to make the first move. It's only right if we do it that way."

"And when she does, will we allow it?" asked Marici.

"If she does, that will be just one of many things we have to decide," Harry whispered. "But we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. We have a big enough one to get over before any of that."

Just then the door to the Hospital Wing burst open and Neville came skidding inside.

"Harry! I really did see you flying around Gryffindor Tower! I thought I was having a stroke for a minute!" he exclaimed. Then his eyes popped wide as he saw Harry's dæmon peering down at Hermione. "Er, Harry ... why is there a huge lion in here?"

"Lioness, if you don't mind!" Marici volleyed back sassily.

"Harry! The lion is talking to me!" Neville whispered in a horrified voice.

Harry laughed at him. "Calm yourself, mate. Try to think of it as me talking to you!"

Neville's jaw hit the floor. "This is your ... what do you call it ... your dæmon? How?"

"It's a long story, and I'll tell it to you one day," Harry promised. "But you tell me why you came rushing in here so fast."

"I saw you flying over," Neville replied. "And I had to come and tell you, I haven't seen Crookshanks since Hermione was attacked. One of the other boys was asking if I was going to feed it. I thought you should know as soon as you could."

"Nev ... I've only been gone a couple of days," Harry frowned.

"What? Harry ... it's been nearly two months since we've seen you!" Neville told him bluntly. "It's all anyone's been talking about. They thought maybe you'd attacked Hermione and done a runner, or gone after Dumbledore to punish him for attacking her, because he's been trying to tell everyone he's responsible. Not that anyone believes him. Peeves even had a song about it ... something about you Marching off in March and being an April Fool. We're all waiting to see what he rhymes you with for May ..."

"Two months!" Harry echoed in astonishment. "That's impossible."

"Not so, Harry," said Serafina Pekkala as she came up behind him. "Time moves different on High Brasil. Days there may seem like months here. It is one of the island's protections. Men who spend years trying to steal its treasures may find their world has greatly changed by the time they return, often with dire consequences."

"Wow," Harry hushed. "Glad we didn't drag it out then!"

"High Brasil?" Neville queried.

"Later," Harry replied. "For now, we have to find Crook - I mean, Papageno - as soon as possible. He may be in grave danger."

"Danger? From what?"

"I think he was taken into the Chamber of Secrets by Slytherin's monster," Harry disclosed. "I have to find that damned room tonight."

Neville grinned widely. "Then follow me. I'll show you the way!"

Harry gawked at him. "You know where the Chamber is? How?"

"We've known where the entrance is for a few weeks," Neville explained. "Ginny Weasley told us."

Harry stopped dead and looked at Neville. "Ginny ... what? She's the one doing this?"

"No, but she accidentally found out about the entrance," Neville elaborated. "On Valentines Day, she was so afraid that she'd run into you when her Valentines Card was delivered, she hid in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. She blockaded herself in one of the stalls and that's when she heard it."

"Heard what?"

"A sort of hissing, she said. Then she could see the silhouette of the serpent under the stall door. It must have been on its way to attack Colin and Demelza and Hermione. Ginny was really upset about it. Demelza is her best friend and she thinks she could have done something to stop it.

"The toilet was thoroughly searched, but the entrance must be concealed by some form of magic as nobody could find anything unusual in there."

"I bet they couldn't!" Harry cried. "You need to speak Parseltongue to open it probably."

"Old Lockhart must be a Parselmouth then," Neville announced in surprise. "Because he was the one who opened the Chamber to start with."

Harry shook his head in shock. "Lockhart? How do you know?"

"It's recorded in his diaries," Neville replied. "Oh, I haven't told you that bit, have I? Old Lockie is in so much trouble. We have a temporary Defence teacher, someone Dumbledore hired on a trial basis before he was suspended. Professor Lupin. He looks like he could use a few square meals and a new suit, but he's really good. His classes are at least as good as Dumbledore's."

"Neville, get to the point!"

"Oh, right. Anyway, he was tidying up Lockhart's crap and he came across the diaries. A little bit of revealing magic - I mean, he's trying to get the Defence Against The Dark Arts job, isn't he? - and he finds out that Lockhart has been putting ideas into the heads of all the girls here. Especially, and this will annoy you ... Hermione. But not just for himself. Lupin found a stream of conscious energy flowing to Lockhart's diary from the direction of Ireland, and he was re-directing that to Hermione."

Harry ground his jaw angrily. "How do you know that?"

"Because I heard Lupin and McGonagall discussing it when I was visiting Hermione. I thought you'd want someone to keep an eye on her while you were gone. So I visited her as often as I could ... read her our homework tasks and stuff, you know, to give her something to do while she was sleeping ..."

Harry felt a strong urge to hug Neville just then, but he refrained. "So what did they say, about this stream of consciousness?"

"They didn't know what it was, only that it was still flowing to Hermione," Neville explained. "Whatever Lockhart was doing to her, obviously being taken out by the basilisk has put a stop to all that. But neither McGonagall nor Lupin could stop whatever it is that's connecting Hermione to Lockhart's diary and whatever that is linked to."

"Lupin? Did you say Lupin?"

James and Sirius had come over, and it was the former who had blurted out this stunned question.

"Yeah, Professor Lupin," Neville confirmed. "He's just started as a teacher here."

"Remus! A teacher!" Sirius barked out deeply. "Oh we have to tease him about this!"

"Tease?" Harry frowned. "Do you know him?"

"Know him!" James beamed. "Remus Lupin is our brother. Well, sort of. He is one of the Marauders ... the name a bunch of us gave to ourselves when were at school. Lily wont believe this!"

"Neville, take him to us," Sirius demanded. "We need to know whatever he's been able to find out about the Chamber of Secrets ... and whatever all that other stuff was you were talking about."

"I'll come too," Lyra insisted. "Maybe I can dreg up some knowledge about Dust that might help."

"It's Voldemort," Harry muttered fiercely. "He's sending his consciousness through the Dust window on High Brasil and possessing Hermione. Will said he could communicate between worlds ... and the guy I met on High Brasil said Voldemort still resides in Hermione's mind. That must be how he's doing it."

"I'll just take you to Professor Lupin," Neville replied weakly. "This is all too much for my mind at this time of night."

"Yeah, do that," Harry nodded. "Serafina Pekkala, can you help me move Hermione? I want to get a head start on finding the Chamber entrance while the others bring this Lupin character to help."

"Okay, but Harry," James began seriously. "If you, by some miracle, manage to open the Chamber of Secrets, no going into it till we get there, clear?"

"You don't have to tell me twice," Harry swore faithfully. "The more of us fighting a giant serpent the better in my book!"

"And then what?" Neville asked. "What's the plan?"

"I find Hermione, then Marici gives her the Hiss of Life, which should undo the damage the Stare of the Basilisk did to her."

Neville started a moment. "I'm sorry ... but did you just say the kiss of life?"

"No, Nev, hiss ... not kiss."

"Oh, right. I was going to say ... Hermione might prefer to be conscious before you kiss her for the first time, Harry. That's only polite!"

"Shut up, Neville! Just go and get this Professor!"

So the two groups split up. Neville led James, Sirius and Lyra off in one direction, while Harry hurried through the dark corridors with Serafina carrying Hermione's stiff form in her arms. Her magic had made Hermione weightless and they made good progress, reaching the disused bathroom in less than five minutes.

Harry looked around. "What do you think, Chi ... are we looking for a buzzer? A bell? A door knocker shaped like Godzilla on a swing?"

"Harry, keep your head," Marici admonished. "We need to find a snake motif or something. Start looking."

So they did, scouring the walls and floor tiles, behind the mirrors and under the rim of the toilet seats. Harry went and stood by Hermione, who was propped up next to the sinks, and began to inspect the plugholes, but with no greater luck. Harry was just about to give in to his frustration when, as he leant against a tap and squeezed hard to offset his irritation, he felt an etching in the brass.

"Chi ... look!" Harry hissed. "This must be it! Serafina ... what do you think?"

"It seems crude, but it certainly resembles a serpent," the witch agreed. "If it had been drawn by someone with no artistic skill at all!"

"Do evil warlords take art classes?" Harry mused lightly. "We'll have to ask Professor Bobross. He's been art teacher here for about a thousand years by the look of him. If Tom Riddle took art here he might have taught him. I can just see Tom scowling as he painted his happy little mandrakes. What a weird image!"

"If this is the way in, how do we open it?" Marici pondered. "Can it be as easy as hissing open?"

"How would you do that?" Harry asked. "Do you speak snake?"

"No, but it was through me that you were able to talk to the dragons," Marici explained. "That part of me that was in you connected to the natural energy of the world ... and we communicated. I made us feel like a dragon, if you like. All I have to do now is try to pretend I'm a snake ... and tell this Chamber to open ..."

Marici's voice suddenly became like the hiss of a boiling kettle. Harry wouldn't have understood it if he hadn't been able to confidently guess her last word, but that was the least of his worries. For as Marici hissed out the command, the tap and sink fell rapidly into the floor, creating a shaft that was broad and deep.

So broad, in fact, that Hermione and Marici were sucked down into the void.

And Harry screamed as if burned by hot acid. Marici had fallen quickly and was pulling at their raw human-dæmon cord. Harry couldn't stand the pain ... it was worse than anything he'd ever felt. He gave an apologetic look to Serafina, breathless and unable to speak through his agony ... then tumbled into the giant hole after his dæmon.