Harry was dreaming of Hermione. She was walking him through the Natural History Gallery at the Museum of Londoon and showing him how much she knew about the exhibits which, as it was Hermione, was a lot. Harry liked it when she talked, the ways her eyes shone as she got lost in her passion for the past. He could listen to her for hours.

Tom Natsworthy was there too, with the assassin-turned-friend that he had made. Her hideously scarred face was hidden behind a red silk shawl, but she was smiling behind it as Tom told her all about how he used to spend hours dusting the life-sized model of a Blue Whale, or polishing the 43rd Century Glassware, or alphabetising the extensive range of canned foods found in the 21st Century exhibits. The two groups waved to each other as they passed, but then Tom and Hester were gone.

And through it all Harry could hear the light patter of rain against the gallery windows. London must have stopped to conserve fuel, as it would have normally tried to move away from the rainclouds, unless this was an unusually large storm. Either way, Harry thought, we'd better get moving soon, or London would run the risk of getting rust on the deck plates. The Guild of Engineers would be simply furious if that was allowed to happen.

But then Harry realised that he couldn't feel the steady and familiar thrum of London's engines pounding up through his bed. Then he realised that he wasn't in a bed, but was instead laying prostrate on a hard, rocky floor. He opened his eyes but saw only the dark. Fearing he had gone blind, Harry tried to sit up quickly.

But a voice called over to him as soon as he moved. "Ah, you're finally awake. Stay still a moment, let me take a look at you."

"Where am I?" Harry asked, dazed and groggy from the sudden movement.

"I didn't think anyone actually said that," came the reply. "I thought it was the sort of thing people only said in books and stories. 'Where am I'. How interesting."

The voice belonged to a woman that Harry couldn't see. She had a vague Frankish accent, but it was more of an inflection, as her Anglish was flawless.

"I cant see anything," Harry retorted. "So how am I supposed to know where I am, or who you are, or anything? I have to ask questions."

"As any good academic should. My name is Amelie Flamel, and you cant see because we are in a pitch black cave. I cant see either, if it makes you feel any better."

"It doesn't," Harry huffed. "Is my girlfriend nearby? I need to know that she's alright."

There was a heavy pause that hung in the air. "That I cannot tell you. I don't know where your girlfriend is. They took her. Valentine and his men."

Understanding hit Harry like a blow to the head, as he suddenly remembered what had happened to him. "Valentine! He attacked us. I have to go ... I have to find Hermione."

"If you leave this cave you'll be killed," Amelie warned sharply. "Land-dwellers, from the static settlements in the mountains, come down here to hunt every night. They have developed keen eyes to see better in the dark. If they spot you, that's it ... and any hope you have to rescuing Hermione will be gone."

"But if I can just reach my airship ..."

"You'll find only a smouldering wreck. Valentine's goons torched it before they flew away."

Harry let out a groan from his throat. "They fired The Jily! How am I ever going to find Hermione now?"

"By keeping your head and listening to me, for a start," said Amelie. "I need to understand how much you know."

"About what?"

"About everything!" Amelie cried. "About why you're here, about what was inside that tomb, about why my old friend Evadne brought you back to life in the first place."

"Evadne? Do you mean Dr. Twix?" Harry asked. "Oh ... now I know where I've heard your name before! You used to be an Engineer in London!"

"I was, and a damned good one too," Amelie laughed.

"So why did you leave?"

"To pursue other things," Amelie replied in a somewhat cryptic tone. "And it is those other things that have led me here to you."

"I don't understand," Harry frowned.

"Then let's see what you do understand. Do you know why Valentine followed you here?"

"No, not a clue."

"You don't know what he was after?"

"I just said that I didn't."

"And do you have any idea what was inside that tomb? Don't bother looking, by the way. Valentine and his men emptied it of anything of value as soon as they took you out."

"Why did they attack me, though?" Harry pondered. "I'm not a threat to Valentine and the secret things he does for London. Hey, I'm even on his side. Or I was, until he jumped me and my girlfriend from behind."

"You may not think you are a threat to Valentine, but he and London certainly do," Amelie replied. "Especially if you had gotten your hands on whatever it was that was buried in that tomb."

"What was it? Were you able to see?"

"No. Valentine's men took out several crates-worth of artefacts, but the nature of whatever they were is something I couldn't even guess at."

"So why are you here?" Harry asked. "You said your work has led you to me. How is that possible? We aren't connected, are we?"

"No ... at least, not in this life. But in the distant past, the names of Potter and Flamel were very much intertwined."

"They were?" said Harry, a little dazed by the revelation. "In what way?"

"I should start by telling you my own story," Amelie went on. "I left London, Harry, and my work as an Engineer after learning that I had an incredibly famous relative who lived a very long time ago. His work in an obscure branch of science made him a legend is his own time and, when I discovered him, I was fascinated by his achievements.

"You see, he was able to produce a medicine that would cure all disease ... including ageing, meaning he could, essentially, live forever ... and discovered the secret to turn any metal into gold."

"Wow," Harry hushed. "I can see why you dropped everything and went in search of him. Unlimited gold, everlasting life ... who wouldn't want those things?"

"Precisely. My future would be made if I could find the elusive artefact that enabled these transmuting processes. Nicolas, my ancestor, called the object The Philosopher's Stone, and though he is long dead, I live in hope that the Stone may have survived."

Harry was listening, rapt, now. He wanted his own Philosopher's Stone. He was dreaming of all the things he could buy for Hermione with all that gold. They could fund expeditions all over the world until the end of time if they wanted. Imagine that! It would be incredible.

Then Harry frowned. "So, how has this got anything to to with me? Or, to the me who was buried in that tomb? I'm assuming that's why you are here."

"It is," Amelie confirmed. Harry could hear the swish of her hair where she was obviously nodding in the dark. "I learned that Nicolas passed on his Philosopher's Stone to his great friend, a man named Albus Dumbledore."

"Dumbledore!" Harry exclaimed. "That's the one who was headmaster of Hogwarts! Hermione told me that."

"You really did do the thing properly, didn't you?" Amelie quirked. "Good for you. But what do you know about Hogwarts?"

"Only that it was a school that was supposed to have taught magic. But that's a load of old codswallop."

"Is it? Are you sure about that."

"Of course. There's no such thing as magic. Everyone knows that."

"There's no such thing as magic now," Amelie returned in a low voice. "But twenty-five centuries ago, when you first walked the Earth, and in the centuries before that, when Nicolas Flamel did the same, there very much was."

Harry blinked in the gloom. "There was magic before? It was real?"

"Very much so," Amelie replied. "And both Nicolas, as well as the original Harry Potter, were experts and exponents in those arts. How else can you explain the fact that Nicolas Flamel was 650 years old when he finally decided to die?"

"Wow. Is that true?" Harry exclaimed.

"It is. I found his grave stone in what was Northern France. The Metropole city of Calais displays it in their Museum of Antiquities now, after I sold it to them to fund this expedition to find Godric's Hollow."

"But why? What is the link to me ... or, to the other me? This is getting very confusing."

"I can only guess how much," Amelie laughed. "Forced reincarnation must be a heck of thing to wrap your head around."

"Is that's what has happened to me then?" Harry queried. "Have I been reincarnated?"

"Of a fashion, but I'll get to that shortly," said Amelie. "First let me tell you how I came to be here. After learning that Nicolas Flamel gave his Philosopher's Stone to Albus Dumbledore, I could find no further record of it. That was until I located Dumbledore's grave, in the ruins of what was Hogwarts school. I found a huge, marble tomb, buried under two thousand years of natural foliage.

"Inside, I found a curious tablet, made of the most perfect emerald crystal I've ever seen. It is an amazing object ... it works like a mini Goggle screen and when you swipe your finger over the glass, the content of the etching changes. I have found hundreds of pages so far, each different and fascinating in their own way.

"One page that I found detailed the final will and testament of Albus Dumbledore. In it, the instructions for distribution of his estate were laid out. Among the items for passing on was something called the Resurrection Stone, which was described as a red-purple, ruby-like jewel ... the exact same description as Nicolas Flamel's Philosopher's Stone. I think they are one and the same.

"And the Resurrection Stone was bequeathed to one Harry James Potter. That is the last mention of it that I could find. So I came here to reignite my quest."

"But you were stopped by the barrier in the tomb?" Harry asked.

"As was everyone else who tried," Amelie confirmed. "Axleminster - the ruined town out there - was mine. I built it with the money I earned from selling antiquities to cities across Europe. The local static settlement tribes call the place Godfrey's Hello, and they revere it in their religion. There is also a legend, passed down in oral tradition, of a giant slayer who once lived in the valley, whose name was Hairy Trotters, on account of his overly-woolly feet.

"The story goes that Hairy, his wife Hermy, and a character known only as The King of the Weasels banded together to slay the giant, Vol-au-vent, who had invaded the valley from France. I think these details have simply been corrupted over time. I think they are your stories, Harry, your own personal history."

"What makes you think that?"

"I found evidence," Amelie revealed. "I came across a series of ancient books, barely legible after centuries of decay. They are seven annals of your life, Harry, chronicling your years at Hogwarts, though clearly dramatised and embellished. I mean, they had you battling giant serpents and dragons amongst other things. Parts of the stories were missing, including the fate of the Resurrection Stone, but I did learn that you and Hermione visited the site of your parents graves, at a place called Godric's Hollow. It would have been a significant site for two young lovers, and I have come to believe that this is where you desired your final resting place to be, too."

"And you think that Godfrey's Hello is actually this Godric's Hollow place?" Harry nodded. "And that place is right here?"

"I think so," Amelie replied. "We, like you I'm assuming, detected the curious magnetic and energetic properties of the region and decided to investigate. After talking extensively with the local tribes, I unearthed the information and began to dig. But as this is a sacred site to them, they ambushed my colleagues and labourers in a series of night-time raids. Soon, Axleminster was crippled and I had to seek refuge in these caves."

"But Valentine knew you were on to something. How?"

"Because I tried to enlist the help of an old friend ... a mistake I've come to truly regret."

"Dr. Twix!" Harry cried. "How is she involved in all of this?"

"Evadne is one of the senior Engineers of London," Amelie began. "But what isn't so well known is that she also heads up a series of Black Projects ... secret schemes and initiatives designed to make London strong again. One of the main ones is to study and build an army of Stalkers to destroy London's enemies."

"Great Quirke!" Harry exclaimed. "Then it's true. We left Airhaven to come here after it was attacked by a Stalker. We didn't see it, barely believed it even ... but now I think it must be true. What in the name of Crumb is the world coming to?"

"The programme is far darker than even that," Amelie said, lowly. "Evadne developed a theory that better quality humans would make better quality Stalkers. She was integral to the cloning programme, that provides strong, expendable Duplicants to work in the most dangerous mining operations that feed London's needs and her satellite towns.

"By using the cloning techniques, Evadne began to create designer humans. Once a slave died, his body was re-animated into a Stalker exoskeleton. She has hundreds at her disposal at this point. I helped her design the diodes and interfaces that plug directly into the organic brain, to give the Stalkers life. Well, a sort of life, which is all Stalkers have, really."

"And how does this connect to me?" Harry pressed.

"Evadne knew of my work, the reason why I left London," Amelie explained. "We were great friends, I thought I could trust her. So I kept her updated on my progress. Then, when I arrived here and discovered the archway to the Potter's tomb, I made an interesting find. Set into the stone were two rods of wood, arranged into a type of cross. The energy coming from them was incredible, so strong in fact that it has forever altered the energetic properties of the region. Even to this day.

"But I couldn't remove them. Every time I tried to get close, the intense heat that I encountered prevented me even getting to touch them. I told this to Evadne ... and the next thing I know Thaddeus Valentine turned up with a team of slaves and investigated for themselves.

"Valentine quickly saw the value of the rods. This was some new power source, one more intense than any conventional energy that we know about. So he wanted it, it was something he could give to Magnus Chrome to help elevate London, not to mention his own status in the city. He wanted a way to weaponise it, I'm sure, but first he needed something to study. Or, more precisely, for Evadne to study for him.

"So he managed to get one of the rods out. I ... I learned later ... I was told that Thaddeus forced his slave workers to endure the searing heat to dislodge one of the rods. The effort melted the flesh and sinew all the way to the bone. After that, he killed the spares ... so that they couldn't tell anyone what they had witnessed or found.

"But Valentine had the rod. Evadne conducted every kind of test on it she could, but it evaded all explanations of what it was. Then Thaddeus suggested there may have been something in my wild stories of magic, that maybe it explained why no dent could be made in the archway. Evadne didn't believe it, but Chrome was on her back to harness this new energy so she was willing to try anything.

"She decided that what she needed was someone who understood this power, or who could wield it. Obviously this person had to be someone Evadne or London could control, or they could potentially become a threat if they developed independent thinking. So, on the off chance, Evadne took samples from the rod and tested them for human genetic material.

"And she found it."

"Me!" Harry gasped. "She found my material and was able to clone me!"

"You are, in a sense, correct," Amelie confirmed. "But she actually found two sets of what is known as De'Enay ... yours and Hermione's. She must have wielded this rod, or wand, of yours in the past and left her imprint on it. She was created first."

"Which explains why she's older than me," Harry mused. "But what am I missing? Why am I only correct 'in a sense'?"

"Because you are much more than a clone, Harry," Amelie said in near whisper. "Evadne reanimated yourself and Hermione into bodies that are mostly organic, but which also contain elements that she was working on in her Stalker programme. Your flesh contains elements of a type of experimental polymer, one which can be manipulated by electricity and radio signals, and your brains are wired with a sort of synthetic fibre that can override your own mental acuity. Essentially, Evadne can use them to take control of your mind and body, so long as she is able to talk to you ... for these fibres are sound activated and tuned to the exact frequency of Evadne's own voice.

"So if she tells your body to stop, it stops. If she tells you to kill, you kill. If she orders your heart to stop beating ... you die. It was her little failsafe, and may be the cruellest device of control I've ever heard of."

Harry's head was ringing with the news, his heart pumping in anger. But he still had so many questions. "But what was inside the tomb? What were they looking for?"

"I genuinely do not know," Amelie sighed. "I don't even think they truly do. But there was a strong energetic signature from behind the barrier. They may have simply wanted more magical artefacts to study, or hoped to find further sources of the magical energy. They chanced that you or Hermione might remember how to get inside, or activate the archway by accident, as you ended up doing. Whatever they found in there, it is in their possession now."

"As is my Hermione," Harry moaned throatily. "I have to get her back, I have to save her ... before Dr. Twix turns her into a super Stalker. Great Quirke ... can you imagine? A Stalker who could do magic?"

"I'm trying not to," Amelie muttered. "Regular Resurrected Men are terrifying enough. To imagine ones who could manipulate nature with magic wands doesn't bear thinking about."

"That's it!" Harry suddenly exclaimed, jumping to his feet. "Hermione's wand! You said Valentine only took mine. Hermione's might still be there and I might be able to find a way to use it ... if I could only remember how."

"And that's the threat that Valentine is so worried about," Amelie replied. "That you and Hermione might somehow remember your magical powers and turn them on London. But there's no point in your rushing off. The tribes people raided the place. They were able to take the other wand long ago. Without its mate, the wand was easier to handle. I learned that they traded it to one of the scavenger towns. It could be anywhere now."

"Well, it's the best lead I've got ... and I have to go after it," Harry announced. "I need your help, Amelie ... I cant do this alone. Can you please take me to meet the tribes, especially the person who sold the wand? It's my only chance to find Hermione and save her from Valentine."

"And what's in that for me?" Amelie queried, standing as she did so.

"I promise you that if on this journey we are able to find Nicolas Flamel's Philosopher's Stone, it's yours ... once I've accumulated a ton of gold with it first, of course! How does that sound?"

"You have a deal, Harry Potter!" Amelie cried. "Follow me. We can reach the static settlement by using these tunnels. But be careful ... there are legends of Loch monsters and basilisks lurking in theses underground locations. We should be cautious."

"Then we will be," Harry vowed. "But who knows ... if I was a magician all those years ago, maybe I found a way to talk to snakes. If I did, I'll be sure to use it on Valentine when I catch up to him. After all, he is proving to be the biggest snake of all. Let's go."