A/N: Hey Guys! Sorry on how late this is! I've been having computer problems recently :P
But anyways! The long expected meeting is here! Enjoy and give us feedback :)

Chapter Fifteen: Bookworms in the Library

Eleven at night and the study carrels were still full as Harry went for the third time that evening to the stacks on Entrepreneurship. This last paper by Professor Blasko was a monster: he had already reviewed twenty books and an innumerable quantity of articles.

He still didn't know how he was managing to keep all the aspects of his dual worlds together. Between classes in his junior year at CUNY, training with the goblins in Gringotts, evenings with Fleur and now planning sessions with Special Agent Alex Mackenzie of the Magical FBI, he barely had any time to breathe. Of course, Blasko wasn't helping things out.

He was clutching the latest books for his research as he rounded the end of one aisle when, trying to keep one large book from slipping off the stack, he didn't notice the young woman coming around the end from the next aisle.

BANG!

The stack of books was now on the floor mingled with books on psychology and the human mind.

Looking up at the person he had collided with, he noticed two things. The first was the image of a young woman with hair threatening to explode from its ponytail and the second was the not so familiar buzz.

This woman was a witch.

"Are you alright?" he said in an apologetic tone. "I am so sorry, but my top book was trying to get away from me and I didn't see where I was going."

The woman smiled at his obvious attempt to extricate himself from the embarrassing situation. "No harm done," she said in a voice thick with an accent he had not heard in a long time: the accent of someone from near London.

"I insist that as I made you drop all of these interesting books that I at least help you to pick them up," Harry was now turning on what Fleur called his 'killer' charm.

The woman pursed her lips and then nodded, warmth showing in her chocolate brown eyes.

Together both students bent down and collected their books. Then Harry, deciding to take the bull by the horns, looked appraisingly at the young woman in front of him.

"Allow me to introduce myself," he began. "When I am not being a traffic hazard in libraries, I am a third year student here at CUNY in business. Oh, and by the way, I'm Harry Wells," saying this last line with a flourish.

The young woman couldn't help but smile at this last line and gesture and Harry was struck by how attractive she was.

"I'm Hermione Granger, studying fourth year PreMed."

Something about that name tickled Harry's memory, but he had learned not to strain at what it might be. Instead, he would let his charm continue to shine. "So you're a New York girl with a British accent?"

Hermione smiled both at the comment and the disarming way it had been said. That and Harry's green eyes really caught her attention. This Harry Wells was a real charmer. "Well, if I might be so bold, you seem to have a bit of London accent of your own."

Harry's smile broadened and his accent deepened. "Jolly good observation. Yes, I am a New Yorker as well with a British accent." Then his face became more serious. "Forgive me for being forward, but I would like to ask you a personal question."

Concerned about the sudden change in the conversation and curious as to where Harry was going with this, she nodded.

He looked around them carefully before lowering his voice. "Are you a witch?"

Her eyes went wide and she instinctively felt for her wand. Then she looked at Harry with a much colder expression. "Care to explain why you would ask me that?"

"Because I can see magic and you are brimming with it. Because I only recently discovered that I am a wizard. But could we continue this conversation elsewhere?"

Hermione could only nod her head as her quick intelligence began digesting Harry's comments. He could see magic: obviously he was a wizard. But seeing someone's magic was a rare gift that only the most powerful wizards or witches could use. And he only recently discovered he was a wizard. That was extremely rare. He should have been discovered much earlier than this.

Her racing thoughts calmed as they reached a private study carrel where a pile of books were already laid out. "Forgive the mess, but I was working on a late night paper," Harry began. Then lowering his voice, he asked. "Do you know any privacy charms? I only got my wand a month ago and I am still learning how to work the basic spells with it. Plus mine tend to be a bit overpowered."

Confirmation there of power, but his comment also raised more questions. She nodded her assent, however, and with a few subtle gestures and words, the wards were set.

She put her wand back into its invisible holster only to notice Harry looking at her with an expression akin to awe. "Very nice," he said. "Crisp, tight motions and your magic just seemed to float to your wand."

Hermione blushed under what was obviously a sincere compliment. She was aware that her control over her magic was exceptional – her professors at Beauxbatons and Great Lakes Magical had commented on that over the years. But her fellow students were sparing in their compliments – in part, she knew, due to her reluctance to reach out of her own world after her first two years at Hogwarts.

Still, this young man had a winning personality and his unique blend of British accent with American accent and idioms suggested an interesting story to tell.

She indicated a chair and sat back down at the study carrel, prepared for a longer chat over magic and the mystery that was this young man. However, he remained standing as he glanced at a paper on the top of her stack of books.

"You're trying to get in contact with Dr. Peter Alcott," Harry said, indicating Hermione's neatly written list of potential sponsors.

"How did you know that?" Then she quieted as she followed his gaze and blushed slightly. "Yes, I am working on making contacts with present and past medical leaders in New York City for any advice and words of wisdom for applying to Columbia Medical School. My marks are high enough, but I've discovered in a competitive environment like Columbia, every little contact can help."

A broad smile spread across Harry's face. "Let me guess – you're thinking of pediatrics, right?"

She nodded, her curiosity further piqued by his obvious knowledge that Dr. Alcott worked in pediatrics.

"This is truly your lucky day, Miss Granger. Dr. Peter is a close friend of my family and I could arrange a meeting between you and he very quickly."

Her heart stopped for a brief second – he must be pulling her leg. The fear of the ever present bully full of negative comments on her intelligence and her bookishness briefly surfaced. But why would he do this to her? She swallowed her fear and put a smile on her face.

"You're kidding, aren't you?"

Harry's face remained pleasant and friendly. There was no hint of playing a prank at all. "No, Miss Granger, I'm not. Dr. Peter is my personal doctor and has stitched me up more times than I know."

Then the name clicked – Hermione Granger, friend of Fleur from Beauxbatons. It had to be the same person.

He could sense the struggle in Hermione's eyes as the hope of meeting Dr. Alcott warred with her fear of being pranked. It was time to put her mind at ease and perhaps confirm if Hermione was Fleur's Hermione.

"Miss Granger, it would be my pleasure to arrange for a meeting. But I've got to ask you a question first – do you know Fleur Delacour?"

Hermione's eyes went wide at the mention of the French witch and then the suspicious look returned to her eyes. "How do you know that name?"

"She's here working at Gringotts New York – and she is the witch who helped me find out that I was a wizard," Harry replied with a straight face. "In the months since I have had a few encounters with her and more recently her father Sebastien – and she keeps talking about this British witch Hermione Granger.

"And you will admit that Hermione is not a standard name." With this sentence, he looked again at her with his killer green eyes.

Thinking absently to herself that eyes like that should be banned, Hermione thought about this unexpected situation. The idea that Fleur was here in New York was a welcome idea – she had lost track of her old friend since she and her family had moved to the United States and she would welcome the opportunity to reconnect with her. But could she trust this young man?

Seeing the hesitation still in her eyes warring with the desire to touch base, Harry thought about what Fleur, his parents, Sebastien and Alex had only set up last week – cellphones. Despite the French magical reluctance to use electronics, Alex had advised them that breakthroughs has been made in the U S linking magic with electronic devices. Now was as good a time as any to try out the new devices.

"Why don't we call Fleur and find out if you are her long lost friend," Harry replied, pulling out his modified cellphone. As Hermione's eyes grew wide again, he hit one of the buttons on the phone and seconds later she heard the familiar voice of her old French friend.

"'Allo, Harry? Ca va?"

"Hello Fleur. I think I ran into one of your old friends from France. Would you like to talk to her?"

"Who is it?"

"Here she is – just talk with her yourself and find out."

"Harry…." was all that came next as Harry handed the phone to Hermione. "She sounds like she is whining now," he said to her with a smirk.

Hermione hesitantly picked up the phone and when it was near her mouth said the first thing that came to mind. "Fleur, ca va?"

There was silence on the other end and then Fleur's excited voice came over the receiver. "Hermione? Est-c'est toi?"

Hermione's face broke into a big smile as she began to chatter back into the phone in French. Harry could hear the excitement in Fleur's voice as the two began an excited conversation. Finally, after five minutes, Hermione hit the end button and handed the phone back to Harry.

"Well, Mr. Wells that was a pleasant surprise. I haven't touched base with Fleur for several years since moving to the U S for further magical and then non-magical studies. We are going to try to set up a rendez vous for next week – and she said I could trust you." The look of suspicion had left her face and Harry found himself entranced by the warmth now showing in her brown eyes and pleasant features. This girl was a looker in a sort of low key college girl way, he decided to himself and then mentally kicked himself. He was going out with Fleur and here he was thinking about this new girl as well.

He realized that he was feeling comfortable with Hermione and decided he would risk asking her about one of the questions that had been nagging at him since they had learned about Dumbledore, his manipulations and his obvious goal in using the blood summoning to force Harry to Hogwarts – what was the school like and why would Hermione have left that school to go to Beauxbatons. Fleur had been unclear as to all the reasons for Hermione's departure from the British school as her friend was remarkably closed lipped about her experience there.

Hermione at the same time was curious about how a powerful young wizard such as Harry Wells could have escaped detection from the magical authorities and her curiosity was a formidable force once it was aroused as anyone who knew could testify. Thus it was she who opened the questions first.

"Harry, I am curious – how did you escape detection as a magical child by the American authorities?" she began.

Harry smiled at the obvious spark of interest in the young woman. He could already tell that this was a person who projected an eagerness to learn as her eyes were alight with curiosity and interest.

"Perhaps because I was no longer living in the country of my birth," he countered. "I came to the U S when I was nine and I am assuming that if I was on any register of magical children, that register would have been back in Britain."

Something was beginning to nag at the back of Hermione's mind, but she shoved it back into a corner as she continued to pursue her train of thought. "Didn't you have any incidents of accidental magic?"

Harry's face grew pensive. "Fleur asked me the same thing as she told me about how magical children go to some form of magical training when they turn eleven. I do recall doing some magical acts, at least what I would call magical acts today. But I told her that I guess my location perhaps aided me in avoiding detection as I was in locations that were surrounded by brick, steel, dirt and asphalt. Her father Sebastien thinks that I may have a point there – there was one major outburst that was witnessed by several people including my adoptive mom but no representatives of the US magical government ever came. He suspects that magic acts like radio or electric energy – just as you can't get a cellphone signal in a reinforced concrete building, so too perhaps magic cannot be detected easily in cities."

It was Hermione's turn to grow thoughtful and Harry found himself staring at her as she worried her lower lip as she was concentrating. He found it strangely attractive even as she replied, "I think you may have a point there. Perhaps the concrete and steel buildings act as a diffusor of magical energy so that the normal magical sensors wouldn't know where the magical surge was coming from.

"Only here in the US have people actually begun studying how magic and the current electronic and electrical culture that the non-magical world live in impact on each other."

Sensing that Hermione had had her question answered for the moment, Harry now tried his. "Miss Granger, I realize that had I stayed in Britain, I might have received an invitation to Hogwarts. While I have no desire to return to the UK, I have wondered, since Fleur told me about her year there as part of the TriWizard Tournament, what the school is like."

Harry was stunned to see the quick movement of emotions that danced across Hermione's face. He had obviously touched on a point of some sensitivity for her and he began to regret asking the question. He was just going to ask her to forget he had said anything when she interrupted.

"Hogwarts – a word that fills me with excitement, longing, fear, disgust, amazement and regret. I both wish I had never gone there and am glad that I did go there for three years even if the last year was as a transfer student from Beauxbatons.

"I remember the thrill I had when Professor McGonagall came to my home and showed magic to me and my parents. I remember the first friend I made – a Neville Longbottom on the Hogwarts Express. I remember the thrill and wonder I experienced when I rode in the boats with the other first years and saw the lights of Hogwarts Castle for the first time.

"I remember the nervousness I felt when I walked up to the Sorting Hat and put it on, telling the Hat that I wanted to be in the same house as Harry Potter who had lost his family and yet had gone on to face dangers in helping others.

"Of course, I also remember the disappointment we all felt when we found out that Harry Potter wasn't even coming to Hogwarts.

"I remember the thrill of my first lessons in magic. But I also remember meeting British pureblood bigotry for the first time and learning that the wizarding world was more discriminatory than my old non magical world was."

It was obvious to Harry that Hermione was lost in remembering and he sat back and allowed her to continue.

"I remember being told I was a know-it-all and being threatened that my command of magic was wrong – that I was cheating by beating pureblood students.

"I remember the stories which began appearing and suggesting that the boy whom I had held up as a model of a hero, the Boy-Who-Lived, may have died in a non-magical home far from the fairy tale home and existence I had read about him.

"I remember coming home after my first year feeling disappointed and disillusioned, frightened and even terrified. Strange things had gone on that year – a teacher had died mysteriously, Potter hadn't shown up, a hut had burned and I had been encouraged not to return by some pretty nasty witches and wizards.

"I remember my second year – the rumors of a monster on the loose, growing discrimination against people like myself by purebloods, dead roosters and students who had been petrified."

Here Hermione's face took on a bitter expression. "And it was here that I was petrified and nearly killed myself – and no one, not one student or professor, tried to help me, encourage me or understand my fears.

"Instead I was told that I was petrified because I deserved it – that I was a mudblood and that it would have been better for me if I had died because I had stolen my magic from somebody else.

"So I left that school and wished I would never see it again – and then was sent back to help the Beauxbatons students find their way around Hogwarts.

"And so I ended up at the bottom of a cold lake in February after watching one of the darkest rituals I have ever seen performed by the Headmaster of that school – all to find a missing student, Harry Potter."

Her eyes had grown hard by this point and Harry found himself reaching across the space between them and patting her arm in a comforting gesture.

Hermione visibly caught herself and fought back the emotions which were threatening to overflow their bounds. "Unless you were a pureblood, Harry, Hogwarts would not have been a welcoming school for you to learn magic. I loved the castle and some of my teachers, but I grew to hate the bigotry, the lack of protection for first generation magical students, some of the obviously biased professors and the lack of consideration given to student protection.

"I was put at the bottom of the lake as a hostage for one of the TriWizard Champions without me or my parents' permission – all because I had gone out with the champion to the Yule Ball.

"No, Harry, you didn't miss anything."

Harry could see how difficult the conversation had been for Hermione, but he knew he needed some clarification on the terms she had used – pureblood, half blood, mudblood. Perhaps if he allowed the conversation to touch on other topics, he could get some clarification a bit later.

"Well, based on what you described I would have to agree with you. It makes my childhood and the move here to New York tame by comparison," he said.

Hermione's look of curiosity had returned at his cryptic comment and he realized that he had gone down a path he had wanted to avoid for now.

"Your move here to New York? How did you arrive here?" she asked.

How would he answer this, he wondered. He wanted to keep the unusual circumstances of his 'transport' to New York from any story for now because it could lead eventually to her questioning where he had come from in the first place and it was not yet something he was comfortable with sharing with others who were not privy to the secrets of the world below and of his life story.

Perhaps give as much of the truth as possible, he decided and just leave out certain elements that were unusual.

Hermione in turn noticed his hesitation and wondered if there were elements of his background that were too painful for him to talk about. His next words confirmed her thoughts.

"I'm an orphan who grew up with relatives who had a real dislike for me and my parents. I found myself in New York, lost and alone, after an event that promised more pain for me from my relatives. A group of strangers found me, noticed that I was suffering from abuse, took me in and reported the abuse to the authorities. One family from that group of strangers took a real interest in me and welcomed me into their home and hearts.

"They adopted me a couple of years later and I became an American citizen." The pride of that declaration rang in his voice and Hermione could see that while he may have been abused, the love and acceptance of his new family had gone a long way to healing the wounds of his earlier years.

"How old were you when you came here?"

"Nine years old – almost ten. I'm a summer baby."

Hermione worried her lower lip in what was becoming for Harry an endearing gesture. Actually, she was driving him nuts with it. It was obvious that she was trying to fit the story in what she had already learned about him.

"Well, that would explain why you were not found out by magical authorities in Britain as you would no longer have been in the UK by the time you reached the age of eleven. And I never had thought about magical energy being like electrical or electronic energy – but it would make sense as normally non-magical devices burn out in places with heavy concentrations of magical energy. That would imply a conflict of similar energy types I suppose.

"But are you taking any steps to learning magic now?"

Harry smiled. "I have probably got the toughest group of magical teachers on the continent. Fleur set me up with the goblins at Gringotts – and from what I hear from her, they teach magic unlike anything that she has ever seen. As I mentioned, I only got my wand a short time ago – I was working with this Yoda like guy named Rockslade who had me meditating to find my magical core."

Hermione's eyes were dancing with excitement. "Goblins teaching wizards magic? I've never heard of that. I want a full description. What subjects do they cover? What homework do they give? Do they cover the same materials that you would need to know to write your OWLs and your NEWTs? How do you fit their courses in with your studies here at CUNY?"

Harry was smiling at the verbal avalanche. Hermione in pursuit of information was a force to be reckoned with. "Whoa, Whoa, Hermione. I can only answer one question at a time. Let me begin with how the training began."

Thus, for the next hour Hermione listened with avid fascination to Harry's description of the goblin training methods. She was mentally comparing their approach to the different approaches she had experienced in the three magical schools she had attended and found the goblin's focus on learning what magic was before beginning to learn spells a stark contrast to the European method of teaching magic. Her American experience fell between the European schools and Harry's goblin teachers.

Harry wanted to get back to Hermione's story about Hogwarts and finally felt it was safe to bring up the questions he wanted to ask. "Hermione, in your earlier story about Hogwarts, you used terms that I have never heard before – pureblood, half blood and mudblood. Unfortunately, I lack any frame of reference for those words. Could you explain them to me?"

Hermione launched into a brief description of the political divisions of Britain's magical society and by the time she was done, he not only had a much clearer picture of what the words meant, but also had a clear picture of the disdain and hatred Hermione had for British magical society.

"They are so out of it, Harry," she said with venom. "The purebloods are the ones supporting the Dark Lord now, yet they are so magically inept and weak because many of them are inbred and have weakened the magical genes. As well, in my course on world magical politics at Great Lakes Magical Institute, we discussed the possibility that many first generation magicals in Britain are only the resurfacing of magical lines lost due to squibs being born to pureblood families."

"Squibs?"

"Oh, the term the British uses to describe people who are born to magical parents, but have little or no magic themselves."

"Yeah, we call them latents here." Harry replied.

"Well, in my course, we learned that studies appear to confirm that if purebloods intermarry without bringing new blood from outside, the magical strength appears to weaken and is only restored when outsiders are brought into the family lines. Someone in my class actually did a research project which suggested that Albus Dumbledore, the Chief Warlock of the British Wizengamot, has actually been encouraging this practice, although he only encourages first generation magicals to be second wives and such so as to keep purebloods in political power."

Aha, Harry thought to himself. Now he could ask about Dumbledore. "Hermione, you studied at Hogwarts under Dumbledore. What was he like?"

A new chewing of her bottom lip followed as she reflected on Harry's question. What could she say about him? His lack of interference with the bullying, the comments, the putdowns of muggleborns – all showed his administration of the school as a sharp contrast to Madame Maxime's direction of Beauxbatons or Joanne Murray's administration of Great Lakes. And the legal change which had almost forced her to return to Hogwarts for her fifth year and the lack of care and concern about her second year had also left a bad taste in her mouth.

"I consider him a poor Headmaster in that he appears to have a laissez faire approach to administration – he allowed bullies from one school house to torment other students and houses; he allowed an incompetent teacher to teach a core subject and favor his house over every other student house; he allowed a ghost to teach History in the most boring manner possible and excluding other key issues and topics.

"He allowed a monster to roam free over the entire school and petrify students in my second year – including me. It was a wonder that no students were killed and even then the details were hushed up. He should have closed the school when the first petrification occurred.

"Then, when my parents advised me that they were going to pull me out of Hogwarts, Dumbledore almost went ballistic, threatening my parents that they would need to keep me at Hogwarts because I had started there. My parents insisted on their choice and Dumbledore backed down.

"We learned two years later that Dumbledore was the spearhead behind passing a new law requiring all British born students to attend only British magical schools. By the time we had heard of this, we had already moved to the U S.

"So, no, I found Dumbledore a poor Headmaster and someone who should not have been allowed to run a school, let alone a magical school."

While Harry was pondering Hermione's comments, a presence interrupted their conversation. Looking up, both saw a library official.

"I hate to disturb your conversation, but we will be closing shortly," the young woman said.

Hermione looked at her watch and her eyes widened in shock. "It's nearly 12:55. Harry, we've been talking for a few hours and we must have lost track of time."

Harry smiled at the young woman and then patted Hermione's arm. "Tell you what –let's call it a night and perhaps we can arrange a time next week when you get together with Fleur to also make that meeting with Dr. Alcott."

The warmth in Hermione's eyes were all the reward Harry needed and he vowed to make a family dinner with Peter Alcott, Fleur, and the rest of the world below possible for Hermione. Now he would try to meet her again and get a wizarding oath and then – voila, he could do a big favor for her.

And then Hermione Granger would owe him.

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