Buckbeak was a disgruntled Hippogriff at the best of times, so being whipped through the air by Phoenix Apparition wasn't good for his mood at all. His pride suggested he could have flown the distance quicker ... Fawkes' wise old head suggested he return to Hogwarts sharpish, once he'd delivered the Hippogriff to Harry, Hermione and Professor Dumbledore.

The three of them looked up at the huge crack in the sky. It looked like a snaking canyon of angry storm clouds, and most of the surviving population would probably think that's what it was, too. By the time anyone thought anything different, the rift would have healed, the sky would return to normal and the future would be solely in the hands of a few, very devious individuals hell-bent on getting their dream of total control.

"What a heinous crime," Dumbledore sighed, sadly. "All those lives lost. So sad."

"How many died, Sir?" Harry asked. "Are there any early guesses?"

"Many thousands ... many, many thousands," Dumbledore replied. "It is a tragedy to define our age."

"I'm sorry we can't do anything to prevent it," Hermione mumbled. "If we could, we would. But -"

"The impact on the continuum of Time would be far too great," Dumbledore smiled genially. "I know my temporal mechanics well enough, Miss Granger, as clearly do you. I think you may well be the brightest witch of your age I have ever come across."

"Thank you, Sir," Hermione muttered bashfully.

"I think you're quite wrong about that, Professor," Harry frowned. "Hermione isn't just the brightest witch of this age, she's the brightest witch of any and every age, too."

Dumbledore smiled kindly at them both, his eyes twinkling brightly. "Yes, I feel you may be right, Harry."

Hermione was much too embarrassed to respond to that, so she just buried her face behind her hands instead. Dumbledore looked up at the sky to preserve her modesty.

"You should waste no more time. Climb aboard Buckbeak, here."

Harry did the bowing honours, Dumbledore helped him to mount the hippogriff, then Hermione slipped on in front of him. She took the Time-Turner from her robes and set the little dial on the side from hours to days. Dumbledore looked thoughtfully at her.

"Three turns should do it, Miss Granger," he suggested. "And do try not to be seen."

"We'll do our best," Harry vowed faithfully.

"Good luck," Dumbledore nodded. "I hope I shall see you in three days ... with the future firmly back in the hands of Fate."

With that, he waved a last goodbye. Hermione took a steadying breath, checked with Harry that he was ready, then turned the little hourglass three times.

It was like watching a movie reel in reverse running at incredible speed. People, weather, vehicles. Sounds all mashed together in a cacophony of colour and noise. Harry closed his eyes against the nausea it caused in him. Every time he'd used the Time-Turner before he'd been sure to do it in a secluded place, like a storage cupboard or something, and he only ever went back an hour at most.

So watching three days worth of time rewind before his eyes was really quite dizzying.

Hermione, too, seemed a little green when the reversal of time finally stopped. She wobbled a bit on Buckbeak's neck and Harry had to hold on tight to her waist to ensure she didn't simply slip off.

"Next time, let's do that somewhere dark," Hermione suggested.

Harry looked at his hands still clutching Hermione's waist and his stomach twisted awkwardly.

"Um ... what?"

"I meant the Time-Turning, Harry!" Hermione giggled, rolling her eyes as she righted herself on the hippogriff.

"Oh! Right!" Harry blew out in relief. He dug his hands into Buckbeak's feathers to dry the beads of sweat that had erupted in his palms. "What time is it?"

"It must be about ten-thirty, because people are still arriving," Hermione surmised. From their position, hidden in a disused bike shed outside of Kings Cross, they could see students tugging Hogwarts trunks into the station.

"Is there nothing we can do for them?" Harry mumbled. "Some of these kids might be dead now. We could save them -"

"We can't get involved in these events," Hermione reminded him curtly. "Apart from the risk of running into our past selves and the problems that would cause, we could also pass people who had just seen us, and that would be awkward, too. Besides, who would believe us if we told them what was going to happen? They'd probably think we were just playing a prank or something.

"No, we have to stay here. As soon as we see ourselves entering the station, we'll fly up to the sky and just wait for the portal to open."

That took another fifteen minutes or so. The Potters and Sirius, Hermione, Lyra and Mal all trooped into the station bedraggled by the rain (Look at my hair!, Hermione squealed) and disappeared through the barrier. As soon as they were gone, Harry urged Buckbeak to trot out of the bike shed, cajoled him by digging his heels into his haunch, and the great hippogriff took to the sky.

Which promptly exploded in front of them ...

The blast of energy was more intense than Harry, Hermione, or indeed poor Buckbeak could have imagined. They were blown around wildly with the force a paper plane hitting a tornado. Hermione screamed, the hippogriff screeched, and Harry clung on to the feathers with every ounce of strength he had. Incredibly, they somehow managed to remain airborne.

And then the waters came.

It was somewhat fortunate that they had been blasted out of the way, for suddenly what seemed like an entire ocean erupted out from the huge fissure left in the sky. The rush of water was deafening, like a million fire hydrants blasting in a single second. Buckbeak veered away from the worst of the water and Harry was able to guide him above the surge once the initial burst had settled.

They circled a minute, looking for a way in. But there seemed no way that they'd survive flying directly at through the fissure. Then Hermione called over her shoulder.

"Harry! Look at that!"

"What!"

"The currents, right by the opening," Hermione pointed. "It seems to draw back every now and then, as if receding to take in more water. If we time it right, we might be able to jump in and be taken through by the tide."

"That sounds reckless as all hell!" Harry shouted back.

But then he watched a moment and saw that Hermione was right. The water pulled, as so happens just before a tsunami, and if they timed their jump right they'd be sucked directly into the fissure. What they would do then was a matter of chance, but then Harry looked closer still.

"Land! There's land up there! I can see it!"

"Me too! Me too!" Hermione cried. "Come on, Harry! We can make it! Believe in us!"

"I do!" Harry called back. "Alright ... Buckbeak! Take up us and hold as steady as you can!"

The hippogriff squawked loudly and flapped his massive wings. They rose and rose, getting closer to the fissure ... water spilled out ... the tide drew in ... more ocean gushed into the world ... and then ...

"NOW!"

It was Hermione who shrieked out, grabbing Harry and kicking off from Buckbeak's neck. The two of them soared through the air, splashing into the waters rushing from the sky, which were surprisingly mild. They emerged, spitting water from their lungs and paddling hard to stay afloat. Harry then remembered that he still couldn't swim.

"Why do I always run into water on these bloody adventures!" he huffed angrily. "I know I can't swim!"

"Don't worry, Harry! I'm a strong swimmer!" Hermione called over. "I won a medal once in the Sixty Metre Breaststroke at my old school. Here ... come here."

Harry did his best, trying to put the idea of breast strokes out of his mind. He managed to reach Hermione and she threaded an arm around his middle.

"Just hold onto me," Hermione instructed him breathlessly. "The tidal surge will hit at any minute, so just hold on. Don't let go."

"Don't you let go of me!" Harry yelped.

"I wont. Not ever."

"Hermione ..."

But whatever Harry was about to say got lost in the flood waters. For suddenly it was like someone had pulled the plug. The water began to speed towards the fissure at an incredible pace. Harry and Hermione were tossed around in the swell, buffeted above and beneath the violent waves, struggling to breathe, wondering how they were going to get out of this latest mess in one piece.

But still, they held onto each other, never once losing their grip.

The fissure came closer ... the waters ran faster and faster ... Harry didn't think there would be anyway out of this ... it had been a silly idea, they were going to drown without even getting close to saving his sister ... she would die all alone and he'd done nothing to try and save her.

And then Hermione began to tug hard, kicking with all her might against the raging current. She mouthed to Harry, urging him to copy her, her words emerging as comical air bubbles that drifted up to the surface. And then Harry looked at what she was aiming for and his heart swelled in hope.

It was a tiny cavern of some sort, just large enough for them both to fit inside. The rock on the outside of the entrance was acting like a sort of breakwater, and with the surge moving so quickly in one direction or the other it had managed to stay dry and empty. It would be tricky, but if they could just move enough to that side, just reach out with the strongest hands they had, they might be able to ..."

"YES!" Harry bubbled out in triumph.

He'd managed to grab hold of a sturdy bit of rock and he and Hermione suddenly halted against the tide, swinging painfully into the rock face as they abruptly came to a halt. It hurt a moment, but they were secure as the tide suddenly slowed to change direction again. The currents died completely, but little eddies of water were already swirling around them ... the flow would strike again for the fissure at any second.

Hermione didn't waste time. Using Harry as a sort of platform, she scrambled along him towards the cavern. He turned and swung her as much as he could manage, but it was little effective against the dense water. Hermione clung to the rock, pulled herself along and urged her feet to go faster.

And she soon reached the dry land ... but the currents began to pick up speed again ... she reached out for Harry, stretching on tip-toe with her fingers fully extended ... the whooshing of the tide was louder now, the surge was coming ... Harry kicked off from the wall, reached out for Hermione ... but the tide struck at speed ...

"Whoa!" Harry mouthed, caught painfully by the rapid water. His eyes were round with fear as he was pulled away. Then ...

"Gotcha!" Hermione cried, catching onto Harry at the very last moment and using herself as a sot of pivot against the tide to drag him to her, where they both fell to the ground, panting and breathless, soaking wet, but alive.

"I hate water," Harry grumbled, spitting out a mouthful onto the ground. "When we get home, you are teaching me to swim, okay?"

"Deal!" Hermione laughed, relieved that they were still alive. "Look, Harry! Look at the water! How weird does that look?"

Harry lifted his head from the rocky floor of the cavern. It was a bizarre sight. The fast-speeding currents were merely a dark-blue blur as they hurtled past. Harry thought it was almost like watching a train on the Tube that you were about to miss, if that train was travelling at a thousand miles per hour through the tunnels. It was amazing that the waters weren't able to enter the little cavern.

"Well, I suppose we should see where this goes," Hermione suggested grimly as she got to her feet. She had lit her white-wood wand and was pointing the powerful beam along a dark tunnel that snaked away from the cavern. "Unless you fancy another go at the water?"

"Tunnels all day long," Harry smirked. He drew his wand and lit it, too. "Let's go."

So off they went, traipsing through the dark in their sodden clothes. Harry missed being dry, and warm, and not tired. He was bone-weary, sluggish from being newly waterlogged and just wanted to sleep. But he pressed on, walking for what seemed like miles along this pitch black subterranean corridor.

And then, just like that, it opened up onto a most astonishing sight.

"Oh my, Harry!" Hermione gasped in shock, grabbing his arm as they jerked to a stop.

For they had suddenly left the black tunnel and emerged into a field of rainbow light. It had happened so jarringly, as if one foot was in this world and the other somewhere else entirely. There were trees with electric blue leaves, sweeping grasslands of violent pink, a babbling brook of fluorescent yellow ... and above it all a fiery, neon orange sky.

"Where are we, Harry?" Hermione hushed.

"I don't know," Harry whispered back in an awestruck tone. "But it's very beautiful, wherever it is."

Hermione nodded vehemently in her agreement. She looked in wonder at clouds of little white insects, at birds of every colour flying between the trees, listening to the soft sound that seemed to pervade the entire place, as though nature itself were singing them a lilting melody.

They moved on, heading through the high grasses of the lush fields that flanked the stream. They barely spoke as they walked, simply content to drink in this wondrous environment, to remember the sights and sounds and smells that they'd never likely encounter again. They passed avenues of classical colonnades that let to nowhere, climbed over stiles that spanned the gentle yellow stream, ambled along stony paths that started abruptly and ended without reaching a destination.

And through all this they hadn't realised that they'd taken each other's hands.

It was only as they passed a pretty little grove full of golden trees bearing red fruit that Harry noticed it at all. He spotted the fruit and felt suddenly hungry, and when he tried to point it out to Hermione he found he couldn't, as his fingers were wrapped around hers.

He looked down at their hands, felt the contact with a constricting chest.

"Did you do that?" he asked quietly, nodding at their interlocked digits.

"I thought you did," Hermione hushed back.

"Did I? I might have done. I don't remember it, though."

"Me neither."

They just blinked at each other a moment. There was a flash of pink as Hermione swiftly licked her lips. She must be hungry too, Harry thought.

"We should eat," Harry advised. "Those sausages seem like a lifetime ago now."

"But the Magisterium and Riddle might be well ahead of us," Hermione argued. "Shouldn't we keep going?"

"We have time. It's three days before that swine Pettigrew snatches my sister."

"I don't think time matters here," Hermione mused

"No, me neither," Harry agreed. "It didn't on High Brasil and this feels sort of like that. We could blink and those three days might be long passed. But we still need to rest and eat. We'll need our strength. No good fighting Riddle at the same time we're fighting our own fatigue."

"And this place looks safe," Hermione nodded to the little grove. "We can rest here a while. We'll eat some fruit and sleep a little. I think that should be okay."

So she led them into the grove. It was covered in a carpet of soft grass with red and yellow flowers, and there were mossy stones surrounding a little pool of fresh water that tinkled in over a tiny waterfall. Harry and Hermione dove their faces in and drank deeply, neither appreciating how thirsty and hot the walk through the sun of this strange land had made them.

Nor how tired. They gathered a little of the fruit and ate in silence. Hermione sat and asked unspoken questions of the alethiometer, then smiled inwardly at answers that she wouldn't share. Harry used the Subtle Knife to cut his fruit, occasionally snagging the blade on the edge of another world and trying hard to resist the urge to cut through and see what it looked like.

Then they slept, heads close to each other but bodies facing in opposite directions. They dozed on the warm grass in the gentlest peace either had known for a long while, comfortably companioned by the other's presence. How long they slept neither could have said, but they woke at precisely the same time to find their faces mere inches apart.

Shy and surprised, they got up and sat back on the stones, took off their shoes and socks and dipped their feet into the cool water, allowing the shock to invigorate their blood and wake them fully.

Then Hermione turned to Harry. "You know, I think I can feel them."

"Feel who?" he quirked back.

"Pap and Chi," Hermione murmured. "I don't know why ... and I couldn't even guess how ... but I think, somehow, that they are here. I dreamt that they were racing along together through a golden meadow and, now I'm awake, I just cant shake the feeling that they are close by."

Harry sat up straight. "You know, I've been thinking that! It's almost like they have been lurking, just out of sight. Sometimes following us -"

"- and sometimes leading us!" Hermione squeaked. "Yes, that's what I've been feeling, too! That must mean they are here then, if we can both sense them."

"But how?"

"I don't know, dæmons work in funny ways. Maybe since we went back in time, they did, too. And maybe they got sucked up here somehow when we came."

"But why would they hide from us?" Harry frowned..

"Who knows. Maybe it's a test, to see how we get on without them."

Harry cleared his throat pointedly. "How long did it take ... you know ... before you were okay being Separated from Pap?"

Hermione closed her eyes and sighed. "A while. Days and days till I got used to not feeling him quite as close as he had been before. But then we started talking again and we forgave each other for doing it. It got better after that."

"I never guessed how bad it was for you both," Harry muttered, toeing the water guiltily. "I knew what you'd done, I heard you describe it, and I even tried to imagine what it would be like if me and Chi ... but it was nothing like I thought ... nothing at all ..."

Harry's voice tailed off and he looked up at the trees overhead. The branches had knitted together so as to almost completely blot out the sky. Only glimpses of gold and silver managed to peek through, reflecting off the tears at the corners of Harry's eyes.

Hermione wanted to get up and go to him, to comfort and soothe him in the complete silence of the grove. But she was suddenly shy and found herself unable to move. So she looked away to protect Harry's modesty, until he had mastered himself enough to dry his eyes.

"Why did you do it, Hermione?" Harry whispered suddenly. "Why did you put yourself through all that by choice? Just to help someone you'd never met?"

"The alethiometer told me I should, that it was what I needed to do," Hermione replied in a satin-soft voice. "And, you know, that's the thing about a truth-teller ... it never lies. It cant. You just have to interpret the truth in the way that feels right. And coming here, and Separating and all the rest of it, did to me. It still does, actually. I don't regret it, I never have, even for a second."

"But I'm not worth it, I'm sure I'm not," Harry mumbled guiltily. "You cant think so, surely?"

Hermione smiled over at him. "That's the one bit I've never doubted, Harry. Ever since I first met you. I came all this way to find you driven by the hope that you'd be worth it ... but if I'd known just how worth it you'd be to justify my sacrifices, I'd have come even quicker, and made even more!"

Harry was much too flattered and embarrassed to know what to say to that. So he simply hitched up his knees, which were trembling quite badly, and hugged them to his chest.

Something was happening to his body, stirring at the roots of his hair and sweeping all through him. It was exhilarating and frightening and oh so strange as it happened all at once. It deepened as it moved to other parts of his body to affect them too. He hardly dared breathe. It was as if he had been given the keys to a gorgeous house that had been inside him all along, and as he opened new doors lights came on in every room, opening up possibilities he had never known were there before. And all he could do was sit and tremble and try to control his speeding pulse and his thundering heart.

He looked over at Hermione. She was surrounded by sunlight, those red and yellow flowers of the grove framing her like her personal backdrop. Harry breathed in the scent of lemon and cut grass, and he trembled and hugged his knees, and hoped Hermione's little smile meant she thought he was handsome.

"And you did all that just to help me fight some bad guys?" he croaked out eventually.

Hermione's chest shuddered with a jutting breath. She looked on the verge of a risk.

"Well ... not just that," she replied in a quavering voice. "There was another part of the alethiometer's message ... one I've not been able to tell you yet."

Harry sat up straight. His pulse felt like it was in his throat. "Why not? Why couldn't you tell me?"

"Because it was silly, and private, and personal ... and I had no idea if it would ever, or could ever, happen," Hermione cried out anxiously. "So I didn't want to force it, didn't think it would be right that I should, because I knew something you didn't and that wasn't a fair advantage to have. I had to wait for you to work it out on you own, if you ever would."

"And do you think I have yet?"

Hermione smiled ... smiled so prettily that Harry ached as he looked at her. Actually, physically, ached ... throughout his entire body. He was aching for her. And the realisation that he was hit him like a runaway Gringotts cart.

But then, Hermione gave a brief little nod. "Yes, Harry, I think you have. It's taken a long time, but I think you've finally gotten there."

"Is this the thing that you were trying to tell me ... about why our dæmons behave as they do with each other?"

"Yes, Harry. It is."

"And will you tell me that now?"

"I will."

"And about this other part of the alethiometer's message?"

"That too."

"When will you tell me?"

"Shortly ... just as soon as I'm able to catch ... Pap!"

And just like that she jumped up and raced away from the grove, not even bothering with her shoes or socks, taking only the purple velvet bag containing the alethiometer, which now streamed behind her as she ran. Harry took off in pursuit, leaping over fences and darting through reeds. He couldn't see their dæmons at all.

"Hermione!" Harry yelled. "Are you sure it was Pap? I cant see anything at all!"

"I know it was him!" Hermione called over her shoulder. "And I can feel him stronger now! They must be close! Come on, Harry!"

Prompted by her urging, Harry put on a burst of speed to catch up to her. He still couldn't see the dæmons, couldn't feel a thing. But Hermione was sure that she could, and that was good enough for him.

They reached a range of craggy rocks, that sprung out at them at the end of a field of ten-foot high corn. Hermione pointed and yelled, "they're around this bend!" So Harry ran as hard as he could, willing himself to believe that he was going to find Marici again.

Then he rounded the corner ... and found someone waiting for them.

But it wasn't Marici.

And it wasn't Papageno, either.

"Ah, Harry! I thought you'd never get here!"

"Voldemort!" Hermione hissed as her eyes fell on the speaker. "Harry, it's -"

"I know, Hermione! I can see him."

And he could, but Harry was equally interested in what he could see behind the looming form of Thomas Riddle.

For they weren't the only ones there. Harry and Hermione had skidded into the mouth of an enormous cave that stretched into gloomy shadows high above. The place lacked the vibrant technicolour present everywhere else and Harry felt somehow colder for the change of hue.

But it was the thing he could see behind Voldemort that made him truly icy. For there were about half-a-dozen figures in black habits, all with silver crucifixes dangling from their necks. They were all excitedly bustling about, tending the most massive, most complex machine that Harry had ever seen.

It extended up like a multi-storey building ... a network of cabling and lights and scaffolding. There was a vast space in the middle and, at the very top, an enormous metal disk with uncountable, razor-sharp, serrated teeth stood ready and waiting and ominous. Harry looked down to the base and saw yet more cables and pistons and power generators, all flanking two identical cages covered in thick steel mesh.

Harry was happy to see that these cages were currently empty.

Voldemort looked along Harry's eyeline with a darkly amused expression. "Ah yes, my new ... friends," he sneered disdainfully. Then he took a menacing step closer. "You see what you have reduced me to, Harry? What your parents have reduced me to? Magic-less, mortal, relying on Muggles, even ones from another world, using their technology in place of the gift that I was born with."

"So you don't have magic?" Hermione cried in triumph. She whipped out both her wands and aimed them straight and true at Voldemort's face. "That puts you at quite the disadvantage, doesn't it!"

"You know, you are proving to be quite the thorn in my side ... Hermione Granger," Voldemort scythed.

Harry felt the pronunciation by Voldemort of Hermione's name to be one of the sickest, vilest, most putrid sounds in the universe. It felt like acid passing down his aural canal.

"Don't you ever say her name!" Harry spat with vitriol. "I'll cut out your filthy tongue if you ever do it again!"

And Harry brandished The Subtle Knife as proof of his intent.

"Funny how brave young love makes you, Harry," Voldemort taunted. "Pity your heart wont be enough to save another young lady in your life."

Voldemort let out a high pitched laugh and clapped his hands. As he did, a doorway of champagne-coloured light strands pierced the heavy gloom of the cave mouth. It yielded the fleeing form of Peter Pettigrew, a recently stolen baby in his hands.

"Seren!" Harry yelled out. "Give her to me you piece of sewage."

Seren was screeching loudly. Harry had heard her cry before .. for milk and biscuits and changing those fetid nappies ... but never a sound like this.

Because ... for the first time in her short life ... Seren Potter was afraid. She was scared, and Harry was frantic in his need to help her.

"Into the machine! Into the machine with the child. Do it now!" the priests of the Magisterium were urging. "There isn't a second to lose. We are soon to be one step closer to Him!"

Pettigrew handed over the baby, who was still balling at the top of her lungs.

"You get to witness this great moment, Harry," Voldemort went on, whispering in a voice of icy silk. "First the Magisterium will open up a portal to the very heart of this place, The Source itself. Then, once I've killed you and restored my magic, I will lead this pathetic band of Muggles to completely dominate every world I can find. And, as I cannot be killed, I have a lifetime to achieve these, some might say, ambitious aims."

"Why do you need Harry to restore your magic?" Hermione asked, playing for time.

"Because, foolish girl, his clever parents tricked me with old magic," Voldemort told them conversationally. He seemed confident enough to share this with them before he had them killed. "They stole mine with Flamel's Philosopher's Stone, and when they made an Elixir from it to feed to baby Harry, here, it transferred my power into him, trapping it in his very blood. It was very clever magic, I was quite impressed.

"Now all I need is a few drops of his living plasma to restore me to my former strength, but I think taking the whole eight pints would be far more satisfying."

Harry's heartbeat was flowing loud in his ears. He was running out of time, Seren was running out of time, Then a plan struck him like a blow to the head.

"And if that plasma is dead ... what then?"

"Harry! Don't do it!"

Hermione's screams echoed in the cave mouth. They drew the attention of the Head Priest, who hurried over after hearing Voldemort cry out angrily, too.

And he was angry because Harry had placed the Subtle Knife to his own throat and was preparing to cut.

"What is this?" the priest demanded.

"Stand back, Father Elias," Voldemort instructed. "Make no sudden moves."

"Dr. Riddle, we need to activate the machine," Father Elias urged. "It needs your magic to work. If this boy wishes to kill himself, let him."

"No!" Voldemort thundered. Harry noticed he had winced at the sound of his own name. That was curious. "The magic of mine that you are using to power your infernal device is petty, pathetic. This boy is the key to my recovering all of my power. That was my fee for aiding you."

Father Elias took half a step as if to grab out for Harry. Hermione fired a warning spell across his face. His nostril hairs seemed to vibrate as the spell tail narrowly missed him.

"That was a shot across the nose," Hermione hissed. "The next one will be right up it!"

"Easy girl, easy," Father Elias muttered, backing away with his hands raised in a gesture of surrender. "What do you want? Maybe we can come to a deal?"

Harry thought hard a minute. His instinct was to demand his sister back and free passage out, but that not only seemed unlikely but it defeated the purpose of their coming. They had to stop the Magisterium, had to stop Riddle.

The machine seemed to be the key.

"That thing? Is it the Intercisor?" Harry asked gruffly, nodding to the machine.

"You know of it?" Father Elias quipped in surprise. "Why yes, it is. The largest and most powerful ever built."

"And that will get you to The Source?"

"We are confident it will."

"How?"

"The energy release generated by Separating a human from their dæmon has brought us this far ... but only this far. We theorise that Separation from an internal dæmon will cause an energy release far more explosive. And when that is enhanced by the use of a child so full of magic, we will finally open a doorway to the very heart of Creation ... the Garden of Eden ... to the Dæmon's Crucible.

"It will be a doorway that takes us right to God."

Hermione gasped in horror and gripped tightly on her trembling wands. Harry stared at her, imploring her to be still.

"So ... will any child do, or does it have to be that one?" Harry pressed, nodding at his sister.

"Dr. Riddle selected the child, and we defer to his judgement," Father Elias replied.

"But she's just a baby, her magic isn't developed yet," Harry pointed out smoothly. "What if it fails? The machine to open the flood gates could only be used once. This one is the same, I bet."

Father Elias swapped a worried look with Voldemort. "They boy has a point, Doctor."

"Don't talk to him, you're negotiating with me!" Harry spat angrily.

"Negotiating, are we?" Father Elias quirked. "And what are your terms?"

"That baby over there is my sister," Harry went on, nodding at Seren still wailing from the cage. "Tom Riddle ..." Harry paused to watch yet another curious grimace cross Voldemort's face, "... he chose her out of spite, all because of a grudge against my family. He could have picked anyone ... you could have done this ages ago. He's been playing you all."

Father Elias shot an angry look at Voldemort, who glared daggers at Harry, but he carried on talking fast.

"And it might not have worked, your little experiment, because she's just a baby and we have no idea how much magic she has yet, if any at all. She's not old enough to show any signs of magic, so this might not work at all if you use her."

"I sense an offer coming on," Father Elias smirked.

"Take me instead, use me," Harry implored. Hermione screamed 'no!' next to him but he shushed her quickly. "I have fully developed magic, I'm stronger and more talented than most my age." He flicked a brief look at Hermione. "You know the machine will work with me."

"And if we agree, what do you demand in return?"

"Let my sister and my friend, here, go free," Harry told them. "If you do, I will walk into your machine freely and without a struggle. I will let you use me to open up the way to The Source. And, as an extra sweetener to keep him happy, I will let you take my blood. Then later, you can give it to Riddle if you want."

"No, Harry! You'll be restoring him to all his former power!" Hermione screeched. "Don't do it!"

"Be quiet, Hermione!" Harry urged. "Let me do this."

"Tell me why?" Father Elias asked suspiciously. "Why would you make this offer to us?"

"She's my sister ... and I love her," Harry replied passionately. "If that wasn't enough, I don't think I want to live knowing I've had this slimeball's filthy magic trapped in my blood. Take every drop for all I care, take it all."

"But why to us? What makes you think we wont just kill you as soon as we take the blood?" Father Elias pressed.

"Because, you are Men of Faith ... and your God is nearby and listening," Harry hushed out. "Thomas Riddle is as untrustworthy a man as you are likely to meet in any universe, and sharing a bed with him will come back to haunt your Magisterium. You mark my words about that.

"But you are God-fearing men. You have come here knowing it will likely kill many, if not all, of you. Such sacrifice requires faith of the highest order ... and of a sort of love that would implore you to cross worlds and risk your very lives to find that love."

Harry looked straight at Hermione now, as tenderly as he could manage. Tears were streaming down her cheeks and her lips were trembling. He couldn't see it, but he could almost feel her heart beating in his own chest ... beating hard and loud for him, for them both.

"So, if you swear it, here and now, in front of your God, I know that you will honour that promise," Harry pressed on. "So ... what do you say? My life, for my sister's life ... and the promise of power for your Lord Voldemort."

"A magical child is all we need," Father Elias muttered to himself. "It doesn't so matter which one ... very well, we agree to your terms."

"No! Harry!" Hermione cried out. "Don't do this! There must be another way! It can't end like this, it just can't!"

Harry crossed to her and brushed a tear away with the pad of his thumb. Then he bent down to her ear and whispered so only she could hear.

"It wont ... trust me."

Then he winked and handed her the Subtle Knife. She looked up in abject confusion, then began balling again, but Harry got the feeling she was putting it on. He had tried to communicate to her in his mind, as he'd seen his father and Sirius once do, but he wasn't sure it had worked.

Father Elias crossed the chamber and retrieved Seren from the cage, before returning to Hermione and handing her the baby. Then Harry went quietly with Father Elias towards the Intercisor.

"Will it hurt?" Harry asked in a would-be childlike voice.

"You wont feel a thing, just a little snip," Father Elias lied automatically.

Harry had the impression he'd told this tale many times before. For a second he wondered if he'd done the right thing with this deal, so he stopped as they reached the twin cages. That massive blade looked all the more deadly now it was looming high above.

"Swear to me, in the name of your God, that you'll let them go."

"I have sworn it, and I swear it again," Father Elias vowed. "In the Name of the Almighty, The Authority, you have my word."

"Thank you."

"Now get into the cage like a good little boy."

Harry complied, then took a weighty breath as the blade above him began to spin and screech and spark.

"You know, this cutting disk is made of a material so fine it will not even cut flesh unless configured for it," Father Elias called out over the rising din. "It is designed to cut energy ... human/dæmon energy to be precise. But the shock will likely kill you ... so hold out your arm, boy, let me extract a vial of blood."

Hermione watched in horror, clutching Seren and hoping this wasn't happening at all. They had retreated to the wall of the cave, backed into the shadows that they found there. Hermione watched that hideous blade shriek as it spun wildly. She closed her eyes and hoped Harry knew what he was doing. He seemed to, even if Hermione didn't understand it at all.

Then the blade began to spin faster and faster on the apparatus. It sent out a sound like saws on corrugated iron ... then it raised up ... before speeding down, down down ... right at Harry's head. Hermione felt him looking at her and fixed her stare on his eyes. He needed her, she knew, for his bravery, for his courage, and her heart pounded hard at the inside of her skull ... she couldn't look away, he needed her to watch, so she wouldn't let him down.

The saw raced down, it was a centimetre from Harry's head ... he closed his eyes, so Hermione knew that she could, too ... she whimpered in her throat, her breathing fast and shallow ... she couldn't watch the final moment ...

"I love you, Harry," she whispered quietly.

Then a voice, just down beside her ... distinctly lioness-like ...

"We know."

Hermione's eyes snapped open and she saw the spinning blade pass right though Harry, pass through harmlessly as though made of nothing but light. But Hermione couldn't just look at that. Her head span around and looked at the animal sat calmly at her side.

"Marici!" she hushed in wonder. "How!?"

"Later, later," Marici purred, before shamelessly rubbing her head against Hermione's fingers, where they were hanging at her side. Hermione gasped at the forbidden contact, at the barrier crossed so easily. Hermione hesitated a moment, then threaded her hand through the lush fur of Marici's head. She didn't think she'd ever get over how soft this was.

But back at the machine, something was wrong.

"What? What's happening?" Father Elias was muttering. "What's happening, boy?"

"You tell me," Harry quirked calmly. "That tickled quite a bit. I liked it. Can I have another go?"

"Tickled? ... what? You should be dead! You and your dæmon," Father Elias hissed angrily, as other priests fiddled with some controls nearby. There was steam coming from them and the scaffold was shaking quite violently. "This is wrong!"

"Oh yeah, about that ..." Harry began conversationally. He thought Dumbledore would approve. "You see, there's something I forgot to mention. A teeny-tiny bit of trivia that I should have mentioned before, probably. It's my bad, really, I take full responsibility."

"What are you talking about?" Voldemort seethed from the other side of the machine. "What responsibility?"

"Why, Tom, the responsibility of destroying your machine and thwarting your plans ... again," Harry taunted calmly. "This is getting to be quite the pattern, isn't it? You make a plan, I beat you with it. I could do this for a lifetime, you know."

"Potter! What have you done!" Voldemort yelled as bits of the machine starting pinging off and flying around the cave.

"I may have forgot to mention something about my dæmon," Harry went on as if discussing the weather, ignoring a piston that flew off and smashed one of the priests square in the face. "You see, she's corporeal. And not only that ... but we're Separated already. Did I forget to tell you that? I really cant remember."

Father Elias swore angrily. "No ... no, no, no!"

"What does that matter, Elias!?" Voldemort snarled.

"The machine is designed to cut," Father Elias explained. "And without anything to Separate it will literally separate itself. Potter knew! He tricked us with lies about his sister! Made us swap them by playing on our doubts!"

"I wouldn't call them lies," Harry mused chattily. "She might be a Squib for all we know. She is only a baby, after all. I'd call them observations of potential. It's not my fault that you are so gullible."

The machine was in full meltdown now. Sparks flew, hot vapour hissed out, bits of metal and cabling melted from above. Voldemort roared and screamed, Father Elias raced around frantically.

"But, your dæmon ... you don't look like the ones we've Separated!" Father Elias moaned.

"Ah yes, that's because we are still very much one," Harry agreed. "Still very much together. You see ... here she comes now."

Father Elias turned just in time to see the fierce form of a rampant Marici leap through the air with a thunderous roar, her huge paw drawn back in her anger. She swiped it forwards with all her immense strength ... and belted Father Elias' lower jaw clean off with one blow. His screech of agony was unbelievable.

Voldemort then darted forwards and started rifling through Father Elias' pockets. He found what he was looking for ... a vial of dark red blood. He looked at Harry with a gleam of triumph in his eyes. Then Peter Pettigrew raced to his master, drew his wand and opened a portal like he'd done before. A flash of light later and they both we gone, along with the surviving Magisterium priests who dived through just as it was closing.

"Harry!" Hermione shrieked, running up to him and fiddling with the clasp on the cage. "That was incredibly dangerous, you know!"

"It worked, didn't it?" Harry grinned. "Come here, Chi!"

The great lioness bounded to him and Harry tugged her tight. She licked his face and they laughed together deeply.

"I've missed you, you great oaf!" Harry cried, burying his face in her fur. "I'm so sorry for leaving you."

"We had to, we had to," Marici purred back. "But another thing we have to do is get the hell out of here before this machine totally explodes."

"Harry! Catch!" Hermione cried.

Harry turned and raised his fist, catching the Subtle Knife by the handle. "How do I work it?"

"Quieten your mind," Hermione advised. "Feel for the other world."

Harry looked up at the hisses, and the clanging, and the roar of bubbling fluid all around them as the great machine tore itself apart.

"Quieten my mind? Honestly!" Harry quirked.

"Just do it! Cut a doorway to the first place you feel."

So Harry tried. With Marici warm at his side, Seren safely in Hermione's arms, it was surprisingly easy to feel a notch in the air with the edge of the knife. Harry pushed harder, then sliced open a door to a new world. Then he ushered Hermione through with his sister, then Papageno and Marici went next. Harry took one last glance at the disintegrating Intercisor and looked forward to getting home, before diving through the doorway himself.

Only he wasn't home, that wasn't the world he'd cut them into.

But in fact, not that he knew how, he'd somehow taken them straight to The Source ... right into heart of The Dæmon's Crucible itself.