"So, let me get this right, you've been spending most of your time below Hogwarts, mapping out the tunnels down there?"

"Pretty much," Harry confirmed with an impish grin. "And not just the tunnels, either. There are loads and loads of hidden chambers and caverns down there. They must stretch on for miles. I'm sure there's one to Hogsmeade, I just haven't found it yet."

Harry offered Hermione another slice of toast, which she gladly accepted despite her disapproving frown. She wasn't frowning for the toast, mind you, but for Harry's subterranean activities. He had rightly assumed that she hadn't eaten that day, whichever world she might have come from, so he had swiped a rack of toast from the Great Hall before dragging Hermione on this circuit of the lake.

"And you've been doing this by yourself?" Hermione admonished. "Do I even need to say the word reckless at this point?"

Harry guffawed into his own slice of toast. "I haven't been by myself. Manasa comes with me most times. She knows the routes and she's quite happy to let me hitch a ride on her back now."

"You've been riding a basilisk through the underground network beneath the school?" Hermione cried faintly. "Oh, Harry! Are you really that thick? You could have run into anything down there!"

"I'm pretty safe with Manasa," Harry pointed out fairly. "I think she's the only monster down there, and she likes it that way. She's quite a territorial sort of giant serpent! If she's not going to eat me, nothing is!"

"Harry! This isn't funny! You shouldn't joke about things like that. It isn't funny at all!"

Harry couldn't help but laugh at Hermione's fraught, pallid expression. It was quite sweet that she was so worried about him, but it was quite unnecessary.

"Alright, alright. You'll just have to come with me next time, make sure nothing jumps out to get me!"

"Oh, I totally will, you can bet on that," Hermione replied in a sniffy voice. "Someone has to keep an eye on you. Honestly, Harry, you're a menace!"

"I am not ... I'm just my father's son, that's all!" Harry joked. "I think they call it incorrigible! In any case, it's the monsters on the surface that I'm more concerned about. Just wait till I tell you about Professor Lupin ..."

So Harry launched into that tale, filling Hermione in on all the things he'd witnessed that day with the Defence Professor. Hermione gasped, then told him off again in a shrill voice ("You went inside the Shrieking Shack! By yourself! Are you insane!"), before trying to dissect the situation and find a logical, less dubious explanation than any Harry had come up with so far. He was eminently glad of Hermione's logical brain just then, as his own musings on the subject had so far failed to paint the otherwise amiable Professor Lupin as anything other than a deviant in the category of Gilderoy Lockhart.

"This is all very worrying," Hermione eventually concluded. "But even more so that you've been around it all by yourself."

"I haven't been by myself," Harry reminded her with a nudge. "I'm never really by myself anymore, am I?"

Harry then reached into his pocket and took out mini-Marici and presented her to Hermione, grinning widely as he did so.

"Oh my god! I can't get over how adorable you look, Chi!" Hermione swooned. "Look, Pap! Look how tiny Marici is!"

They stopped and Harry knelt down to allow Papageno to come up and sniff tenderly at Marici, who pouted and turned away from everyone in a huff.

"How did you do it? Oh, a Shrinking Charm I suppose?" Hermione asked then answered, before Harry even had a chance to open his mouth. "That's impressive magic, Harry, not to mention being a really good idea. Can you make Marici big again? Do you know the spell for it?"

"Yes, can you, Harry?" Marici sniped in her pixie-level growl. "You know how much I hate being this size."

"I cant make you fully big again, not in the daytime when other people might be watching, you know that," Harry reminded his dæmon. "Tell you what, I'll make you Pap's size for a bit, then you can play together while we walk around the Lake. That shouldn't be too suspicious. Good enough for you?"

"I accept," Marici grumbled. "If that's the best I can hope for."

Harry smirked at her and took out his wand, casting the Engorgio Charm at Marici until she had grown to be just a little smaller than Papageno, who was on the big side for a cat anyway. As soon as Harry put his wand away, Marici leapt away from his arms and padded over to Papageno, who immediately began smoothing his face against hers. Then they ran away in front of Harry and Hermione, chasing and playing and lightly biting at each other, before rolling around in a display of intimate frolicking that Harry thought bordered on the indecent.

Not that he could think too much about that conundrum, on account of the effect that the touching dæmons were having on him.

For Harry could feel every single bit of dæmon contact as though it were on his own skin, tickling and tingling all over, electrifying him in ways that made him shy and uncertain, turning him very hot and flustered on this cool October morning. It caught the air in his lungs every time he felt the puff of Papageno's hot breath on Marici's fur, making him flush and look demurely away from both the animals and Hermione, too.

For she, herself, had turned her eyes down in a show of delicate embarrassment at the display of their dæmons, clutching her hands together tightly and rolling her lips between her teeth as they walked on in timid silence for a good while. And Harry came to realise a sudden new truth as they ambled along in this awkward manner ... that whatever this was that he was feeling, Hermione could feel the exact same thing.

And he dearly wanted to ask her about it ... but, bizarrely, it seemed far too delicate a question to even begin to form, let alone to say out loud.

So Harry kept this curious new question in his mind only. It was one he hadn't really given any thought to before. He knew plenty about dæmons by now, both from Papageno and even moreso since Marici had become corporeal in his life. He knew the golden rule, that it was forbidden to touch the dæmon of another person, but was it the same for your dæmon to touch someone else's? And what did it mean when they did?

It was a strange concept. Harry tried to equate it with the equivalent human to human contact, but somehow it didn't seem encompassing enough. He was burning with the desire to ask Hermione about it, but for some reason the idea of posing the question terrified him, as though he already knew the answer but that the voicing of it would trigger a fundamental change in his understanding of the world.

And with that bone-deep fear of change still swirling through him, Harry decided to park the question for now and ask something else instead, maybe every other question possible in the English Language, until he found to courage to ask this, most frightening and exciting one.

"So, what happened with your parents?" Harry asked, his breath throaty and an octave higher than he expected it to be. "It was good of Pantalaimon to come all this way with your letter, but tell me everything I don't already know."

Hermione seemed delighted at the chance to change the subject, too, even if the discussion promised to be painful and morbid.

"Serafina Pekkala is looking after them," Hermione explained. "A number of her witches suffer what they call Separation Shock. It happens sometimes when the process to become a witch doesn't work, or the witch candidate isn't fully committed to the process. The Separation only half-occurs, leaving the human as a confused shell and the dæmon hurt and lost. That's pretty much the state Mum and Dad are in."

"Do the witches ever get better?"

"Sometimes, but Serafina says none have ever fully recovered," Hermione replied sadly.

"Hermione I ... I'm so sorry," Harry consoled. "I don't know what to say."

Harry reached over on instinct to slide his arm into Hermione's to offer comfort, but the awkwardness from earlier reared its head again and he hesitated. But then, in a show of courage worthy of her Gryffindor status, Hermione met him half way. But she didn't swing her arm into the crook of his, instead choosing to take his hand and lock her fingers between his own. She didn't look at him, he couldn't look at her, could barely breathe through the fire ignited all through him by their contact, so he just looked straight ahead and tried to ignore the rabid curiosity to see the expression on Hermione's face.

"It's alright, they are going to be alright," Hermione told him with unshakable confidence. "I don't care that it's never happened before, it'll happen now. There is always a first time for everything. Mum and Dad will be the first time for this."

Harry squeezed Hermione's fingers in a show of doughty support. "You know if there's anything you need, anything I can do, you only have to ask. Anytime."

Hermione finally looked at him with a radiant smile. It seemed to melt bits of his insides and he hoped the damage wasn't terminal. "Yes. I know that, Harry."

"So what is Separation Shock? What does it look like?" Harry asked in his breeziest voice, trying to get himself together again.

"A bit like brain damage," Hermione confessed, sadly. "But worse than that, because my Mum and Dad felt like they'd lost all the energy that made them who they were, that even made them human. It was the hardest thing, Harry ... every time I saw it, I cried so much that I thought I was going to lose my mind, or die from dehydration at the very least.

"They were so cold, Harry, in ways that I'd never seen a person be cold before. I doubt that a corpse would have had much more warmth. You know what it's like when you see your parents or people you care about ... you just feel something there, an energy that is impossible to describe, but you know it's there just the same. But with Mum and Dad that energy just ... wasn't. And it was the worst experience of my life. Pap was too scared of it to be around them for very long, and Lyra and Sirius didn't really know what to say to console me.

"I wish you'd been there, Harry. I needed you so much, and you were so far away."

Now Harry took a turn to step in closer. It was involuntary, but his entire being would have revolted against him if he hadn't. He could feel Hermione's body warmth now, where they were inhabiting each other's personal space.

"I'm sorry, I should have stayed with you," Harry hushed. "I would have if it had been my choice. But you and Pap did that, didn't you? Separated, I mean."

Hermione nodded. "We had to, it was the only way we could blend in here. I didn't know any magic back then, or I could have just shrunk Pap like you've done with Marici. But Pap and I had already agreed on the course we wanted to take. You can have no doubts. You must be completely accepting of everything that Separation entails ... all the pain, all the hurt, but also all the promise of love when you reunite."

"And you were? Completely accepting, I mean?"

Harry was still pointedly avoiding looking at the pair of dæmons pouncing all over each other on the path ahead of them. Hermione wasn't looking at them either, even though her eyes were dancing with light and fervour, and simply nodded briefly and continued on with her story.

"We were," Hermione breathed softly, stepping closer to Harry under the pretence of avoiding a divot in the path, but in a stride far longer than the little hole required. "And we still are, as it happens."

Harry felt as if his entire face was on fire, as though Hermione was warming him with her own personal sunlight. And she was so close to him now ... too close, actually. Had she done that on purpose? Harry shyly hoped that she had, but didn't know why she would have. But Hermione hadn't gone back to her original distance once the divot was successfully navigated, and Harry found he'd quite like to keep her where she was for just a little bit longer.

And because Hermione didn't seem to want to move, Harry assumed it was okay to not want her to. Unless he was supposed to have moved too when she did. That actually made a lot of sense, but it was too late now. It would look odd if Harry just stepped away from her, especially as they were talking about something so private and intimate.

"So how are you going to help your parents?" Harry asked. "If anyone can come up with a way to fix them, it'll be you. You're just that clever."

Hermione smiled shyly at that. "I don't know yet, but the burden is on me to find a way. I blame myself for so much of it, Harry. It's all my fault, I know it is. I brought Voldemort down on my parents, brought that evil into their lives. They didn't ask for any of it. He targeted them because he couldn't get to me. I'm to blame for everything that's happened to them."

"Then I am, too," Harry told her, quietly. "Because you only came here to find and help me ... if you hadn't read the alethiometer ..."

"Then the best thing in my life wouldn't have happened," Hermione cut across, staunchly and abruptly. "And I'd be half the person I am without that. I know I didn't do these horrible things to them personally, but I have to bear the burden of responsibility.

"I ... I just wish I'd thought about that sooner. Perhaps I could have done something ... sent them to a far away land, made them forget all about me or something. That might have kept them safe. It would have been the right thing to do."

"But also a selfish thing to do," Harry pointed out.

"Selfish?" Hermione asked in surprise. "In what way?"

"Hermione, if you had erased your parent's knowledge of you and sent them away, you'd have done that for your own peace of mind, and it would have had a lot less to do with them. Do you think that's what they would want? To forget all about the existence of their only daughter, without being given any say in the matter? I don't think I'd want that, if it was me. I ... I wouldn't ever want to forget about you ... or to forget that I ever knew you. That would be the most awful thing."

Harry looked away with a blush, sure he'd said too much this time. But Hermione simply curled in a bit tighter, though she seemed unable to find the words to say what was on her mind. So Harry carried on talking to fill the void.

"We are dealing with the most callous of enemies, Hermione, and their attacks against us reflect that. These aren't villains that hurt us with harsh words or wet towel slaps ... they wound our loved ones and want us dead. The stakes are that high. Sending your parents away would have been no guarantee of their safety, not against enemies who can reach across worlds to target those in their cross-hairs.

"In any case, don't you think that your parents would have wanted to know that you were in danger? I think they'd have wanted to be in possession of all the facts, all the risks, so they could make an informed decision about what to do ... maybe even to choose to try and actively help you, rather than simply be passive observers in their enforced ignorance."

Hermione smiled at him warmly, obviously impressed by Harry's reasoning.

"And since when did you become such an enlightened philosopher?" she teased, gently. "Was I really away that long?"

"Ha ha," Harry replied, rolling his eyes at the light ribbing. "I'm just saying that what has happened to you and your parents is truly awful, but that's because we are dealing with truly awful entities. If your parents had known just how bad our bad guys are, they might have chosen to go into exile, or they might have chosen to fight for you. Either way, I think they would definitely have wanted to know you were as safe as you could be, considering the threats all around you."

"Which is the point at which I should probably tell you about Sirius, as you must be dying to know!" Hermione replied. "Perhaps I should have eaten that frog before starting on the other ones."

"Eat a frog?" Harry asked, confused. "Are we going French, or is the toast just that bad this morning?"

"No, silly!" Hermione laughed, squeezing Harry's hand and resting her forehead affectionately against his shoulder as she giggled away. "It's just a phrase from back in my world ... Eat That Frog ... it means tackle the biggest, worst, or most awkward task first, then the others won't seem that bad."

Harry didn't think he liked where this was going. "So Sirius not being with you is the biggest frog in your pond? What's my idiot Godfather gone and done to himself this time?"

"He borrowed your streak of heroism," Hermione explained fondly, as she guided Harry away from another divot in the path.

"Sirius? Heroic?" Harry scoffed light-heartedly. "He cant have been ... there's no money in it for him!"

Hermione laughed back, then her expression darkened seriously. "No, really he has. We found out that the Magisterium in my world have concocted a horrible plan that they want to carry out, one that will stop dæmons ever coming to babies at all."

"Sweet Merlin!" Harry exclaimed in horror. "That's disgusting! It's an outrage! How do they plan to do it?"

"We don't know that yet, and that's why Sirius isn't with us," Hermione replied. "He's stayed behind in my old world to help Malcolm find it out. The Magisterium have the magic of Thomas Riddle on their side, so Sirius is going to 'lend his wand to the fight', as he put it, to try and even things up there."

"Typical," Harry riled. "As soon as things get really dangerous, Sirius decides to go all noble. I bet it doesn't suit him!"

"It took a while to get used to, I must admit!" Hermione giggled playfully. "Lyra was beside herself when they parted ... she loves him far more than she lets on, you know.

"And talking about love and monsters and frogs ... I think we need to talk about Sally-Anne Perks."

Harry felt various bits of his body tauten as the landmine topic was broached. He gulped hard as he prepared his answer.

"I don't love Sally-Anne," Harry muttered quietly.

"Well that's something at least. But you do like her?" Hermione pushed.

Harry sighed resignedly. "Yes, alright? I do like her. She's grown on me."

"Like an anal pollip or a nasty tumour? I can see how that might happen if left untreated!"

"Hermione!" Harry laughed. "That isn't very nice. Sally isn't a monster. We went to Hogsmeade and it was ... nice. She was nice. You should talk to her, get to know her a bit. You might actually like her if you try."

"Oh, I will definitely be having a chat with Miss Perks, a good long chat," Hermione scythed warningly. "But as for getting to know her, I think I'd prefer to try and get to know the entrails of a disembowelled goat. But I might like Sally better if she was disembowelled," she added as an afterthought.

"Where has this animosity for Sally-Anne come from?" Harry insisted. "This isn't like you at all."

"If you don't know, I'm not going to tell you," Hermione replied haughtily. "But you'll work it out soon enough. She's been a pain in my bum for years, and I bet she couldn't wait for the chance to pounce on you as soon as I wasn't there to bat her off."

"Pounce on me!" Harry cried in mirth. "Really? Is that what you think happened?"

"Am I wrong?" Hermione demanded in a business-like tone. "She's been trying to cosy up to you since first year. And as soon as I was out of the way she tried again, only this time she succeeded. How does liking her become a date for the Ball tonight? Did she corner you or something? I bet she did."

Harry thought about it a moment. "Well, it happened in a corridor. So there were no corners."

"But I bet it was she who asked you, wasn't it? Well?"

"Well ... yes, it was."

"And did she spring it on you?"

"Er ... sort of."

"That's pretty much a yes," Hermione sniped. "I knew it! She's a artsy, tricksy little sorceress, that one!"

"That isn't fair," Harry argued. "Besides, I agreed to go with her. She didn't force me or anything. She also said that I could go with you if you came back in time, so if you want -"

"No! I'm not going with you like that! Not on her terms," Hermione cried shrilly. "She'll think it's just another win for her if I do."

"A win?" Harry asked, perplexed. "A win at what? I didn't even know there was a game going on."

"Oh there is, Harry, there so is," Hermione hissed lowly. "And it's my turn to roll the dice!"

"I don't think this is a good idea, Hermione."

"I disagree, Pap, this is a fabulous idea."

"If you upset Sally, you'll upset Harry," Papageno warned. "I don't think that's the strategy we need."

"Oh I don't intend to upset her, just remind her that I'm back," Hermione replied in a low tenor. "She needs to know that things aren't going to be that easy for her now. I need to play her at her own game."

"And what is that, exactly?" Papageno asked, sniffing curiously at the make-up kit at Hermione's side.

"I need to turn Harry back to me, but without having a go at Sally-Anne in the process," Hermione explained. "I don't need to devalue another relationship just to show how mine and Harry's is just so much better. That'll be obvious all on its own. I just need Harry to wake up to that."

"And offering to help with make-up is going to achieve that?"

"Of course," Hermione chimed brightly. "This is me not holding a grudge, being the dutiful student and helping out those in need. And where Harry is concerned, Sally needs all the help she can get."

Papageno scoffed in derisory agreement and took to padding around the gazebo again. The giant tent had been erected in the courtyard just outside the Main Doors. It would serve as a lower-key venue for those wishing to get away from the hustle and bustle of the main Ball for a bit. It was also the place where dates would meet each other and where final preparations were being made to the venue and party-goers alike.

It was in this location that Hermione found herself this evening. After helping Harry to straighten his costume (he was going simply as the skeletal leader of the Cwn Annwn from Celtic mythology, that was recently featured on a Weird Sisters album cover) she had volunteered to help with any last-minute make-up needs that other students might have.

What she hadn't known was that Sally-Anne would come in for just that purpose ... or that she'd make a beeline right for Hermione.

"It's true what people have been saying then ... you're back."

Hermione span around as Sally's honey-toned voice reached her ears. Her scowl came on reflex, and she made little effort to bat it away.

"As you can see," Hermione replied in false sweetness.

"Bit late for you to get a date, was it?" Sally asked, her voice equally light and every bit as fake.

"All the good ones were gone," Hermione replied sniffily. "And I don't make a habit of settling for second-best."

Both girls narrowed their eyes at each other, like two prize-fighters sizing their opponent up. The air was dense and thrummed around the pair of them.

"Why are you here, anyway?" Hermione went on. "The Ball starts in half an hour. Aren't you ready yet?"

"I heard you were doing make-up, and I just had to see it for myself," Sally sniped. "Since when do you know anything about that sort of thing?"

Hermione laughed mirthlessly. "Just because I'm clever doesn't mean I'm not girly. I'm fourteen, you know, and my skin isn't always as flawless as I'd like it to be, so I use make-up just like anyone else."

"Huh?" Sally nodded. "That's surprising. Not that you wear make-up, but that you admit you have flaws. I didn't think you had it in you."

"I have faults plenty enough, but I hope they are not obvious or of understanding to you," Hermione replied in a haughty tone. "My temper I cannot vouch for. It might be called resentful. My good opinion, once lost, is lost forever."

"That would be a heavy loss indeed," Sally smirked back sarcastically.

Both girls eyeballed each other again. Hermione took a breath and weighed in once more.

"Would you like any help or not? There are others who do, if you don't."

"I don't usually bother with make-up, I prefer the natural look," Sally sniffed. "But as I'm here, why not? What would you recommend?"

Hermione looked Sally-Anne up and down. "Are you going in what you're wearing? That seems ... lovely. Er ... what is it again?"

"I'm a Disney princess, my friend Hannah told me about them," Sally replied, caught off guard by Hermione's cutting remark. "I don't know which one. Cinderella maybe."

"Lovely," Hermione repeated, wrinkling her nose. "Then maybe a little eye make-up, just to get you ready for your Ball. Do you like my brushes? They are shaped like little wands, look."

"That's actually quite cool," Sally nodded as she and Hermione took seats opposite each other.

"I think something Christmassy would go with that dress, even though it's Halloween," Hermione pondered, considering her eye shadow palette with a practised look. Each shade had a festive name to go with it. "So I think we'll start with Snowball Effect for your lids, then use some Secret Santa on your crease and blend that out. Then we'll add some Let's Cringle mixed with Christmas Cookie into the inner corner, and finally we'll finish with All The Jingle Ladies as your highlight in the centre. Sound good?"

"Wow. You really do know what you're talking about," Sally mused in surprise. "That should look quite nice, actually."

"Then I'll get started," Hermione replied, picking up her brush and taking a little of the first colour. As she began to apply it to Sally's eyes, the Hufflepuff witch muttered lowly so that her voice wouldn't carry.

"Just so you know, I don't think I'm playing second best to you, just because you weren't here for Harry to take to the Ball."

Hermione couldn't help but smirk. "But you do know that if I had been here, you'd have had no chance to go with him?"

"Yes, and that's sort of my point," Sally replied. "You smother Harry, don't let anyone else get close. It's not fair on him, you know."

"I'm the only one he needs," Hermione argued. "You just jumped into my spot while I was away."

"It's not about need, it's about want," Sally fired back. "You don't let Harry want anyone else. He wants you, but he doesn't think he can get you."

Hermione stopped still, her brush hovering over Sally's little nose, shaking slightly. "What are you talking about?"

"I know you probably hate me, but I've done nothing wrong by asking Harry out," Sally went on. "I've asked him several times if you are his girlfriend, or if you've ever said that you wanted to be. Harry has told me no each time. I know how much he likes you, but if you haven't made it clear how you feel about him then you only have yourself to blame. You've had him to yourself for ages, it's not my fault that you've not done anything about it."

Hermione was stung, unable to form an argument against Sally's attack. She was right, totally right, and Hermione had even thought the same herself. She'd been stand-offish, held back ... and now Harry had taken that to mean she wasn't interested in him as anything more than a friend. A lot of their relationship was already beyond mere friendship, but without it being said explicitly ...

"Harry's put you on a pedestal, made you unattainable," Sally ploughed on relentlessly. "And your actions have only reinforced that. He sees you as too perfect, to the point where he feels like he's betraying you to see you as anything more than a friend. He thinks his vanity in suggesting it is an insult to you.

"So I don't see myself as a consolation prize for Harry. I'm just different, I'm not you ... and if I can get Harry then I'll be more than happy with that."

"You should know I wont give this up without a fight," Hermione promised.

"I'd expect nothing less," Sally volleyed back. "But you're going to have to get passed me now. And I'm not just going to step aside for you ... and Harry wouldn't want me to, either."

"As long as you are making him happy, I'll tolerate you," Hermione whispered bitterly. "But the moment you hurt him, the moment you do even the tiniest thing to upset him, I'll be coming for you with all the magical force I possess. And I have two wands, you know ... one for your heart, and one for that button nose of yours. Don't make me break it for you, Sally-Anne."

"I think we're finished here," Sally snapped, standing quickly. "Thanks for the make-up. It looks pretty. I'm sure Harry will approve. Goodbye, Hermione."

And with that Sally sauntered off in the direction of the castle. Papageno sidled up to Hermione's legs and leapt up into her lap.

"You really did make her up too well," Papageno remarked. "Harry will be breath-taken when he sees her."

"Oh shut up, Pap!" Hermione sniped crossly.

The Ball progressed, unusually for Hogwarts, as a Ball is supposed to. There was dancing and merriment, a good deal of messing around by the younger students and a good deal of time spent in shadowy corners by the older ones. There were no troll invasions, no basilisk attacks and everything was going to plan for a change.

Not that Hermione was very pleased about any of that. A rogue troll would be just the thing right about now, to call a halt to the abominable display she was having to witness between Harry and Sally-Anne. The former had, as Pap predicted, been bowled over by Sally glowing more prettily than usual on account of her make-up, and had only sought out Hermione to compliment her on a job well done. That soothed, but didn't quell, the frustrated ache that had taken residence in Hermione's chest.

For she was thoroughly cross with herself, far crosser than she had ever been. Sally's words sat heavy on her, and Hermione spent the evening analysing each and every one. And the more she did, the more assertion she had to give to them as being painfully accurate. But far from making her sad, they made her unspeakably angry.

And angry with herself at that. For if Sally was right then Harry had been Hermione's all along, and she'd simply grown complacent and done nothing about it during all the ample opportunities that she'd had. It wouldn't have taken much ... a simple word, a loaded look, and she and Harry would have crossed this landmark boundary together without even flinching at the border.

But what could she do now? If she just declared herself openly, threw her heart at Harry's feet, it might come across as the most desperate case of sour grapes imaginable. Harry had been taken from her and she'd say anything to have him to herself again. That's what everyone would say, and they'd be right, even if they got the reasons wrong.

So she had to suck it up and think of a new plan. Then the Lyra in her reared its head when Michael Corner came over to ask her for a dance. Hermione was tempted a moment; maybe making Harry jealous would wake him up to his feelings for her. But Hermione decided against that strategy, didn't want their relationship to involve petty acts of revenge and game-playing. It was too good for such weapons.

Besides, she'd tried that last year with Professor Lockhart ... and look how that ended up!

So she politely declined the invitation to dance, and nearly bit Michael's head off when he came over to repeat the request an hour later. Harry snapped his head in her direction upon hearing her voice raise and looked set to come over and fend Michael off.

It also had the effect of moving his head away from Sally-Anne's ... which was far too close for Hermione to be at all comfortable with.

If Harry was going to kiss another girl, Hermione didn't think she had the stomach to watch. She got up quickly and left the Hall, hurrying up the stairs and hopping through the Portrait Hole to gather herself. She wasn't going to cry, that wouldn't do at all.

"I didn't see it, he didn't kiss her," Hermione muttered to herself as she paced in quick circles. "If I didn't see it, it didn't happen ..."

And then ...

"Aaarrrggghhh!"

Hermione's blood turned to ice. The scream, guttural and terrified, had come from the corridor outside, but this was only half of what frightened Hermione. The more pressing terror was that the scream was made in Harry's voice!

"Harry!" Hermione cried, pushing open the Portrait Hole, which she had some difficulty managing as it seemed to be resisting her efforts. Then she saw why. "Oh my!"

Hermione looked at Harry, who was sprawled on the floor against the wall opposite the entrance to the Common Room. He must have banged his head on the brickwork as he was out cold, with something dark trickling down from behind his ear. Hermione knelt down and scooped some onto her fingers.

"Blood! Blood! He's bleeding! Someone help!"

Let it never be said that pleas for help are never answered at Hogwarts, for within a moment of her throaty cry Hermione found herself flanked by Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall, and with half of the student body ranged down the spiral staircase all clambering for a good look at the scene. Sally-Anne was there, white as a sheet with worry. She tried to surge forward, but the Headmaster warned her back with a stern look.

Hermione, however, he allowed to stay crouched at Harry's side.

"Will he be okay?" Hermione hushed in rabid concern.

"Concussed, but Harry is made of sterner mettle than most," Dumbledore returned kindly. "I'm sure his pride will be hurt more than his head. We need to find out what happened here."

"Oh my ... Albus!" Professor McGonagall suddenly hissed. "The Portrait of the Fat Lady ... look!"

All eyes within earshot of the Transfiguration Master snapped to the Portrait ... and a hundred angry, frightened gasps followed a moment later.

For the portrait had been slashed to shreds!

"What happened?" Professor McGonagall hushed again. "Who did this?"

"Only one person knows," Dumbledore replied in a grave tone. "And he has slept long enough. Wake up, Harry."

Hermione had never seen wandless magic before, but she recognised the feeling of it as it passed over her like a swift breeze. Harry had ejected his magic in this way, when he was particularly angry or emotional. Hermione was astonished to think he might possess the same level of power as a supreme wizard like Dumbledore. On some, unimportant at the moment level, Hermione felt a deep sense of pride at Harry's abilities. She was proud of him for being so powerful.

But that was something for later. For now, Harry was stirring, waking groggily as if from a stupor. He looked at them in turn with unfocused eyes.

"Dubbledore ... Aun' Min ... Her -Min - ny," Harry stuttered drunkly. "Wahs goin' non?"

"You fell, hit your head," Dumbledore spoke softly. If Hermione hadn't known better, she would have thought the Headmaster was casting a spell somehow, as his very words felt like an elixir. Even Hermione felt warmed by hearing them so close up. "Do you remember what happened? Did you do this to the Fat Lady?"

Then Harry's eyes shot open as cogency hit him hard. "No, Sir! No it wasn't me, you have to believe me!"

"I do, Harry," Dumbledore reassured him. "But I need a culprit for this. What were you doing here?"

"Hermione left the Ball, I came to see if she was alright," Harry explained. "But when I got here, someone else was already here ... or, to tell the truth, something else was."

"What was it?"

Harry drunkenly grabbed onto Dumbledore's robe and pulled his head down to his own. When he spoke, his voice was little more than a hoarse whisper.

"It was a huge wolf, Sir ... a dire wolf ... slashing at the portrait! The Fat Lady screamed its name ... she knew who it was ..."

Harry tugged Dumbledore closer still.

"It was her, Sir ... it was Bellatrix Lestrange ... and she was trying to break into the Gryffindor Common Room! She barged me out of the way as she escaped!"

There were screams, there was panic and uproar on the stairs, Dumbledore had to fire off several explosions from his wand to bring order.

"Everyone back to your Common Rooms immediately, and stay there until I give further instruction," Dumbledore commanded forcefully. "Prefects, coordinate with the Head Boy and Girl to carry out my orders. You are all on patrol tonight."

Percy Weasley and others snapped to action, barking out orders left and right. Then Dumbledore turned to Harry.

"Come along, Harry, let us get you to the Hospital Wing and under the care of Madame Pomfrey," he said genially. Then he smiled down at Hermione, his blue eyes twinkling behind his half-moon spectacles. "Miss Granger? I assume you will want to accompany us?"

Hermione shot a look at Sally-Anne, who was still white with shock, though for an altogether different reason now. It was a look that might have contained a gleam of triumph.

"Yes, Headmaster, I do," Hermione replied stoutly. She fell into step behind Dumbledore and a levitated-Harry, smiling to herself and thinking that there was never a dull moment on Halloween in this place.