"I'm not sure that I should let you go off on your own. How would I explain it if something happened to you?"
"I'm an adult, Mr Black, I'm pretty confident that I can navigate my way around a shopping district."
"But can I navigate my way around your daughter's sharp tongue?" Sirius quirked. "I've only met her briefly, but she strikes me as the sort of girl who I don't want to get on the wrong side of. Letting you wander off around Magical London seems the sort of thing that might stoke her ire!"
Catrin chuckled. "She has a habit of making that impression! But she does improve, I promise. But I insist on going. I'm actually quite looking forward to being able to explore the place."
"Well let me at least draw you a map … I'm pretty good at making magical maps, Sirius reminisced fondly.
"I would appreciate that, thank you."
Sirius jumped to action, grabbing a large napkin from a nearby table of the cafe they were taking tea in.
"The layout is really very simple," Sirius began. He raised his wand and drew a straight line along the centre of the napkin. "This line represents Diagon Alley, the main High Street of Magical central London, which is where we are now. You can find shops of all kinds down here, as well as a few cosy cafes like this one if you fancy a rest. But, if you want to get a little more specialised, there are other options for you to explore, too.
"If you head to the Central Plaza, about half way down Diagon, you will find several other streets branching off, like the spokes on a bicycle wheel," Sirius began, indicating the location on his line with a glowing square. Then he began drawing more lines attached to the first. "This one, at the dead centre, is Knockturn Alley, and it's one you want to avoid without a chaperone. It caters for the darker and dicier side of sorcery and you'll find nothing but unpleasantness down there. The street next to it is just as unpleasant, in its own ways, as that one is Offish Alley, which is where our Government buildings are and where Magical society is administered from.
"The street on the far left, Klerik Alley, has some grand and ancient buildings, but they are the headquarters of the Trade Guilds and banking and financial services etc. Very dull stuff. Next to that is Immore Alley, which is my personal favourite, but it is restricted to over-18's only, so you can guess what sorts of establishments live down there.
"So you might want to stick to the right hand side of my little map. Innphorm Alley has some higher class cafes and boutique restaurants, as well as designer clothing outlets and salons, and at the very top you'll find a curve of quaint arcades that have become the French Quarter, which we call the Joan D'Arc. That leads into Fissick Alley, where our huge sports arenas are located, as well as where most of the recreation options are.
"And that's pretty much it. The Leaky Cauldron, a pub you probably know, is the main hub of the place and the best link between Muggle and Magical London. I have always told Harry that if we ever get separated here and he gets lost, the best plan is to wait in The Cauldron and Tom the old Innkeeper will look after him. I'd advise you to do the same, and Harry will bring Hermione to you at some point, assuming she manages to get him out of my stuffy old house."
"Thanks for the advice!" Catrin chuckled, pocketing the little map as Sirius handed it to her. "Thank you, I think I got all that. I think I'm just going to wander back along the street here, see what charms it has to offer. Thank you for the tea, Mr Black."
"Could I ever convince you to call me Sirius?"
"I'm not sure, I haven't quite worked you out yet," Catrin replied with a wry grin. "I'll let you know when I have. Good-day, Mr Black."
And with that, Catrin Granger walked off along the street without another word, leaving Sirius chuckling to himself as she went. He hadn't long sat down again when an excited little squeal disturbed the last sip of his rapidly cooling tea. A young girl, maybe eight or nine years old, had skidded up to her mother in a fit of exuberance.
"Mummy! Mummy! Can I go? Can I? Please?"
Sirius smiled fondly at the cute child's earnest begging. His grin faltered when he soon learned the cause of it.
"Go? Go where?" the mother asked.
"Jenny heard it from Sandra, who heard it from Cassiopeia, that Harry Potter is on the Alley today! Can I go and see him, just for a minute. Please?"
Sirius groaned in his throat, but was thankful a moment later that the mother seemed the sensible sort.
"No you may not," she admonished. "Goggling at the poor thing like some exhibit in a zoo. Shame on you, Amanda. Would you like to be stared at in such a way?"
"No, but then again I didn't kill You-Know-Who did I?" little Amanda argued. "He must know people are going to stare and he can't mind it 'cause he's out."
"Harry Potter must have to Christmas shop just like the rest of us," the mother pointed out. "We should leave him alone to do it, I say."
"But he's not alone … he has a girl with him," Amanda whispered lowly as though sharing a secret. "Do you think he has a girlfriend now? I don't like her, if he has."
Ah … didn't think of THAT …
Sirius leapt up as the notion crossed his mind. Harry being on show was one thing, being seen with his infamous Godfather was another, but strolling down the main Magical thoroughfare with a girl for company was on another level of potential gossip generation. And in all this romantic snow and lights to boot. Could lead to all sorts of misunderstandings.
So Sirius made a decision … he had to save Harry from this, had to protect him …
… though it soon became clear that Harry had all the protection he could need.
"If you're going to say something, say it! Otherwise, shoo … you horrid little pest! Before I lose my temper and turn you into a ferret!"
Mental note … don't cross Hermione Granger where Harry is concerned. Who knows what becoming a ferret would do to my Animagus form!
Sirius chuckled deeply as a sullen girl slunked away from Hermione's scything threat as she came into view. He looked to Harry at her side, fully expecting him to have turned his eyes in his usual downcast expression. He hated the attention after all. It was with no small degree of surprise that Sirius found Harry's face cracked into a wide laugh.
Laugh … since when does Harry LAUGH? This girl has some serious magic about her to do THAT!
It was all Sirius could do to marvel at it. A moment later, Harry clocked him and guided Hermione in his direction. Sirius could barely believe the boy he was seeing … he was comfortable, at ease, borderline carefree. He had doubted this side of Harry even existed, but here it was, right in front of him. It warmed Sirius all through to see it, and emotion for Hermione Granger welled inside him as he saw she was the reason for it, standing defensively close as she was.
"You found him then?" Sirius quirked. "How did you manage to get him out?"
"I just asked," Hermione shrugged nonchalantly. Then she grinned sweetly. "Seems I'm more persuasive than you, Mr Black."
"Clearly," Sirius laughed. "And Harry … you seem actually happy to be out. That's new."
"I think I have found a new favourite game … watching Hermione abuse random members of the public!" Harry teased. "I could watch it for hours. Saves me doing it and it's eminently entertaining!"
"Hush you," Hermione falsely scolded in reply, flushing slightly. "Mr Black … where's my Mother? Is she still with you?"
"I tried to keep her still but she insisted on exploring on her own," Sirius explained. "Try not to hex me for that. I did make her a map."
"Oh I wont, that isn't your fault," Hermione huffed. "She's far too free-spirited for that. She's a nightmare, honestly. I'd better go and find her though. Which way did she go?"
Sirius pointed along Diagon Alley in the direction Catrin had walked. Hermione nodded and turned to Harry.
"Well, we both have a bit of our own shopping to do, so shall we meet up in hour or so, maybe outside Flourish and Blotts? I can show you what to get me for Christmas in there."
Harry scrunched his brow in confusion. "And why would I need you to do that? I already know what I'm getting you."
Hermione blinked in surprise. "You … you do?"
"Yeah, I've been planning it for a while," Harry confirmed. "It's a bit of a time-sensitive thing so I had to think ahead."
"But Sirius said you had no idea, that you'd sent him here to get something for me."
"Oh he did, did he?" Harry frowned, turning sharp eyes to his Godfather.
"Ah, well … you see … it was more like …"
"I'm not totally hopeless," Harry cried, cutting Sirius off at a stroke. "I have your present, Hermione. I only needed my goon of a Godfather to pick it up for me, that's all.
"Perhaps we can pick it up together?" Hermione asked hopefully.
"Aren't presents supposed to be surprises?" Harry threw back. "That's why we wrap them. I read about that in Gift Wrapping - a Four-Fold Guide."
"I'm not sure I like surprises, Hermione replied in a sniffy voice, not sure if Harry's attempt at a bad joke was a joke at all. The Magical world did seem to have a whimsically-titled book for practically every subject.
"No, me neither. I've never had much luck with them," Harry agreed. "The surprise of learning I was nearly murdered as a baby … learning everyone knew my name and wanted a piece of me … learning my Godfather and guardian was such an arse …"
"Language, Harry," Sirius admonished, trying to mask a smirk as Hermione giggled nearby.
"But okay, we can collect your gift together," Harry asked. "It needs your signature anyway. But it isn't from Flourish and Blotts as it isn't a book."
"Now I'm intrigued," Hermione mused. "Alright, so I'll run after my Mum, do my shopping with her, then meet you … where?"
"Outside The Forge and Crucible," Harry told her.
"But that's the alchemy supply shop," Hermione pointed out. "What could you have possibly gotten me from there? You know I don't study alchemy at Hogwarts."
"Oh it's much more than that," Harry replied, brightly. "You'll see in an hour."
"I don't know if I can stand the suspense," Hermione laughed. "Okay, I'd better go after my Mum. See you in an hour."
Then she bobbed on her toes, as if she were going to do something, but she seemed to lose her nerve at the last minute as she span away and hurried off down the Alley. Sirius turned to Harry as soon as Hermione was out of sight.
"Well … she's certainly got you wrapped around her little finger. I'll need to watch out for that one."
"Shut up, you mongrel," Harry shot back. "She's my friend … and just my friend. Don't go complicating it with your silliness."
Sirius rather thought Harry might have been talking to himself, but he kept the observation in his own mind only.
"So, what do we do for the next hour?" he asked instead.
"I have one more present to buy for Hermione … well, for her cat, actually," Harry replied as they started walking.
"You're buying a gift for her cat?" Sirius quirked, raising an eyebrow and realising, not for the first time, that this friendship was a little more serious than Harry was letting on. "Why?"
"I've used him as courier for some of our pen-pal letters," Harry explained. "But his collar is a bit old and battered and blah. I'm hoping to get one with a Ravenclaw eagle on it, for a laugh, as Hermione's in Gryffindor."
"And will she appreciate that? Will she see the funny side?"
"Oh, definitely," Harry nodded.
"You often tease each other like that, then?"
"Quite often, yeah."
"I see," Sirius smirked, knowingly. "The Magical Menagerie it is then."
They reached the shop and soon began browsing. The shop owner came over to offer assistance, pointing out the Ravenclaw-branded options when Harry asked to be shown to them. He soon found the sort of collar he wanted.
"This is what I'm after, but do you have it with an orange band?" Harry asked. "He's a big, fluffy, ginger cat, so I sort of want the collar to match his fur, if you see what I mean."
"Your Mum and Dad had a cat like that once," Sirius reminisced, fondly. "When they bought him, he was called Rameses Niblick the Third Kerplunk Kerplunk Whoops Where's my Thribble? But obviously that was too long, so in the end they just called him Alan."
Harry narrowed his eyes. "You can't call a cat 'Alan'."
"You can't call a cat Rameses Niblick the Third either, but someone did."
"Some people shouldn't be allowed pets," Harry frowned, disapprovingly. He paid two Galleons for the new cat collar, then he and Sirius left the shop as a little bell tinkled overhead.
Somewhere further along Diagon Alley, Hermione had found her mother and pulled her to browse at the window display outside Eeylops Owl Emporium. Catrin looked down curiously at her.
"You do know that you don't have an owl, don't you?" she asked. "And before you think of getting one, I should warn you that I'm not sure your father would appreciate all that hooting at all hours of the night. Neither would I, come to think of it."
Hermione gave her a nonplussed sort of look. "Of course I do, stop being silly. This isn't for my pet … it's for Hedwig."
"Hedwig? Who's that?"
"It's Harry's owl," Hermione replied, simply and without ceremony.
Catrin blinked pointedly. "You're buying a gift for Harry's familiar?"
"Yes. I used her to deliver at least one of my pen-pal letters to Harry," Hermione explained. "And she's ever such a pretty owl, I'm thinking a suitable carrying pouch or something might be nice."
"Do you often borrow Harry's things, then?"
"Quite often, yes," Hermione confirmed. "He's very generous, with stationary and ink and especially quill nibs. He also let me keep his scarf. He leant it to me when I was cold, see?"
Hermione lifted her coat collar to show her mother the scarf, which she wore everywhere, tucked tight around her neck. Catrin noticed the unfamiliar blue and grey crest woven into the warm fabric.
"That doesn't look like your other things," Catrin commented curiously. "All your Gryffindor items are in red and gold."
"I've told you before, Harry isn't in Gryffindor," Hermione replied in an exasperated tone. "He's in Ravenclaw House."
"And is Ravenclaw a rival of Gryffindor would you say?"
"Not as much as with Slytherin, but we are all rivals in a way. I've always seen that as a weakness of how Hogwarts is structured. That's why I started The Lonely Hearts Club, to promote greater inter-house unity."
Catrin quirked an eyebrow at her daughter. "The Lonely Hearts Club?"
"Oh bother!" Hermione snapped, crossly. "That's a stupid moniker that some people have given to my pen-pal club at school. Even I catch myself using it sometimes."
Catrin's chest ached at the idea. She had always known that Hermione was something of a solitary girl, withdrawn and not abundant with friends. But she'd never complained about that, she just seemed to get on with it. But the notion that her little girl was actually lonely had never really crossed Catrin's mind. She felt guilty, and a little frantic, that she'd never noticed this before.
"Do you think that's a characteristic of the people who signed up?" Catrin pressed. "Are they mostly lonely?"
Hermione thought about that a moment. "I couldn't say for sure. I'd have to guess that at least a fifth of the student body have signed up by now, but I don't know them well enough to say if they were lonely or not. There are probably lots of reasons for people wanting a pen-pal."
Catrin considered her next question cautiously, conscious now that she was about to tread on delicate, potentially emotional ground.
"Would you say Harry Potter was lonely?"
Hermione sighed heavily and turned her eyes down. She sounded like an old soul. "Yes. I am almost certain that he was. Harry endured a sort of isolation that I don't think I have the vocabulary to effectively describe. I cant even imagine it. Not that I want to … I don't like to think of how he must have suffered."
"Suffered?" Catrin asked in concern.
Hermione still didn't look up. This was affecting her, that much was obvious. Catrin might even say it was hurting her daughter to think these things about her friend.
"He hasn't given me the details yet, but it's clear that Harry had an unhappy childhood," Hermione mumbled. "After his parents were killed, he lived with his Aunt and Uncle. The experience was very unpleasant, from the little he has told me so far. It left him isolated, and that got worse when he got to Hogwarts and was singled out for his story, which he knew nothing of prior to that. He found it impossible to make friends, let alone trust anyone.
"That's why I was so surprised that he was interested in joining the pen-pal club, and even more surprised that he was happy for his pen-pal to be me when I suggested it. Amazed, even. But it's been such a good experience for us both. I feel so lucky that I've been able to get to know him so much better than anyone else."
"So you don't think he's lonely anymore, not since you became friends?"
Hermione shook her head. "No. We are both a bit taciturn, I think … and we don't need many friends in our lives to be fulfilled. No-one else really gets either of us, anyway … so being friends with each other is probably enough for us both. We've overcome any inter-house rivalry that might have existed, proving the point of my Club."
"And so, do you wear his House scarf around your friends and peers?"
"Sometimes," Hermione told her evasively. To say 'all the time' sounded a bit much.
"Doesn't that get you nasty comments? I can imagine people being harsh to you by wearing the colours of another House. They might see it as treacherous or a betrayal."
"I don't care," Hermione retorted sternly. "It was a gift from my friend and I find it … comforting. So I wear it when I want and ignore what anyone says."
Catrin smiled over fondly. "It sounds like a really good thing that you've done, Hermione Granger. I'm very proud of you, you know?"
Hermione beamed up. "Harry said that, too, in his very first letter to me."
Which seems to carry much more weight than when I said it, Catrin thought to herself. The opinion of a boy meaning so much to her … Catrin wondered if Hermione truly knew how much trouble she was falling into where Harry Potter was concerned. She seemed largely oblivious, or was she simply becoming artful in her adolescence?
"So, we are buying Harry's pet a gift, but what about the boy himself?" Catrin asked. "Any ideas there?"
Hermione frowned in consternation. "Several … but each seems more inadequate than the last. And today he told me that his present for me is from a most unexpected source. I can't even guess what it might be. He's agreed to let me collect it with him later."
"Presents are supposed to be surprises, Hermione," Catrin pointed out.
Hermione simply turned her head with a frank expression. "We don't like surprises, Mother."
Oh … so it's "we" now, is it? …
It wasn't a bell that tinkled as Hermione opened the black door, it was more of a wind chime … a wooden, musical note, or several of them, ricocheting through the rather gloomy interior of The Forge and Crucible. It was warm to the point of stifling, almost uncomfortable. It felt like the sort of place that should have been further down Knockturn Alley, not on the last vestiges of that passageway's respectability, placed as it was on the very junction it made with Diagon Alley.
Harry was already inside, browsing a narrow set of bookshelves off to the left. Hermione sidled quietly up to him to see what he was looking at, expecting to see complicated tomes on metallurgy and chemical distillation. But she didn't. It was with a great degree of surprise that she found Harry browsing fiction stories, some with famous titles that she knew very well.
"Lord of the Rings … The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe … ooh! The Little White Horse! I loved that book when I was little! But what on Earth are they doing in here?"
Harry looked up. He seemed pleasantly dazed, his eyes unfocused as if waking from a trance. There was a contented smile on his face and Hermione felt oddly guilty, as if she'd disturbed him from a nice dream.
"Oh. Hello, Hermione. I didn't hear you come in. How long have you been standing there?"
"Only a few seconds," she replied. "How long have you been here?"
"A while," Harry told her vaguely. "I like coming here so I thought I'd come along early to get your present and wait for you."
Hermione unzipped her heavy coat and fanned herself. "It's boiling in here. I don't know how you can stand it."
"Alchemy is all about working with fire, often in a crucible-type environment," Harry explained. "I think the shop is supposed to reflect that. But I don't mind it. It's not for everyone … so not a lot of people come in here."
Hermione suddenly understood. Harry had often mentioned his passion for alchemy, it was his favourite class at Hogwarts. Here he could indulge his passion away from watching crowds, scared off by the sultry interior of the shop. Part of Hermione was hit with a deep sadness that Harry was prepared to endure such lengths just to enjoy himself, but another part could tell that Harry was genuinely comfortable here, even if Hermione struggled to understand how, as she struggled for a clean breath.
"Even so, an open window or two would do quite nicely," Hermione puffed out. "The air is so dense in here."
"A true alchemist must endure for his art!" Harry chuckled, putting on an exaggerated deep voice. "That's what Mr. Gofannon would say. He owns The Forge, know."
Hermione looked around, expecting to see a hunched wizard in a deep robe mixing ingredients behind a row of bubbling flasks. But there was no-one there. She and Harry were quite alone in the darkness. A thrill ran through her that made her draw closer to her friend.
"It's weird in here, it has an odd ambience and I don't think I like it," Hermione whispered. She didn't know why she whispered, it just seemed like the thing to do. "I feel like I'm being watched. Where is the shopkeeper?"
"Just adding a bit of a finishing lustre to your Christmas present," Harry explained. "He's been at it a while so I don't think he'll be too much longer."
"Can you tell me what it is now?" Hermione asked with a cheeky smile.
"You'll see it for yourself in a few minutes," Harry said in refusal. "In the meantime, help me pick out a new story to read."
Harry gestured back to the bookshelf. Hermione saw many titles she recognised, from famous Muggle writers such as Ben Johnson, Terry Pratchett and even -
"- Shakespeare! Why would there be works by him in an alchemical workshop?"
"Because Mr Shakespeare was heavily influenced by the storehouse of alchemical literature and symbolism. But that is something I would expect you to know … after all, I'd expect to know it if I was named after a famous Shakespeare character in the way you are … Hermione Granger."
Hermione spun around to look back across the shop. There, behind the payment counter, was a wizard garbed quite as she'd expected to find on her inspection just a minute ago. How had he gotten there so quickly, so silently … and how did he know her name?"
"There are only questions in this shop, and few answers," the shopkeeper, Gofannon, cut across before Hermione could even vocalise her thoughts. "Let us just say that you are known to me, and leave it at that."
"Excuse me, but you are a stranger who knows my name," Hermione protested. "So I will not leave it at that."
"She has a point, Mr Gofannon," Harry added lightly. "How do you know who she is? I've never mentioned her."
Harry and Gofannon were on familiar terms, that much was clear to Hermione from Harry's easy tone. It settled her nerves somewhat.
"Professor Dumbledore is a good friend of mine," Gofannon explained. "We still meet up to discuss all things esoteric about every month or so. He has done much work on alchemy during his lifetime."
"Yes, I've read his Chocolate Frog card," Hermione replied, a little impatiently. "That still doesn't answer my question about how you know me."
"Ah, his Frog Card," Gofannon chuckled. "Albus considers that the completion of his Opus Alchymicum, you know. His version of immortality. And he may be right. There is no single right answer in The Art."
Hermione was getting annoyed by this wizard's evasiveness. "So can I expect none to my query?"
Gofannanlooked up finally. Hermione couldn't see his features, hidden as they were beneath his deep hood, but she could tell that he had a very sharp, pointed beard. It looked almost unnatural, like something from a story book goblin or something.
"Our Art is a dying one, Miss Granger," Gofannon sighed with genuine sadness. "The world is changing and old traditions are fading from our sight. Few now have the patience or natural adeptness to carry out The Work of the alchemical opus. Professor Dumbledore often discusses with me the new students who show the most promise and attempt the study of our noble art … so it was a bitter blow to hear that you, one of the brightest students of your generation, dropped out after barely a week."
Harry snapped his head up in shock. "You took the alchemy class? I never saw you there."
"Perhaps you weren't looking, because I saw you," Hermione replied, shyly. "You sat at the very front of the class, whereas I tucked myself away at the back. I remember you answering most of the questions Professor Abraham asked. She seemed to like you right away."
"Yeah, she's probably my favourite teacher," Harry replied dismissively. "But never mind that … why did you drop the subject?"
"It was too flaky for me, all symbols and allegory and abstract concepts," Hermione explained. "I prefer my magic to be underpinned by logic, something you can break down and put back together in the same way. Alchemy is the opposite of that … you break things down and hope for something different when you reform it. That sounds nonsensical to me."
"But logic is a key part of the process," Gofannon argued, now re-hunched over his counter. "Alchemy is, at its most fundamental, a joining of opposites … hot and cool, moist and dry … the impulsiveness of instinct tempered by the rationality of logic. No alchemist ever succeeds in the Opus alone. They need their complimentary other half to complete the circle, to bring what they lack and, therefore, need."
"Need?" Hermione asked, slightly confused. "How can an alchemist need another person to turn lead into gold?"
Gofannon sighed, put down the tools he was working with and shuffled over to them. He was barely Hermione's height (she had the advantage of her favourite one-quarter inch) so he looked almost dead in her eyes. And his eyes … they were brilliant white with no irises … just a tiny black dot at each centre. The look startled Hermione and she took another half-step back towards Harry.
"An alchemist who seeks only gold, who yearns only for eternal life, is a fool and a charlatan," Gofannan hushed in an ethereal voice. "A true alchemist knows that the real transformative process happens here … within oneself."
The wizard pressed one hand firmly to his chest, then used his other to gesture at the bookshelf as he continued.
"These stories are all written in the alchemical tradition. The hero goes on a journey of transformation, overcoming obstacles, tricks, illusions, all to gain knowledge and insight that lead to enlightenment. They face darkness, both within and without, but arrive at a new state of understanding. This enlightenment they then share with the world in the hopes of bettering it. This is the true Philosopher's Stone … not some jewel to transform base metal to gold, but to transform a mere mortal into a genuine philosopher who can improve the world around them.
"And young Harry here is, of course, on such a journey himself."
Harry rolled his eyes in a clear gesture of 'not this again', but Hermione was intrigued and couldn't help but ask further.
"What does he mean?"
"Mr Gofannon has this loony theory that I'm one of his alchemical Red Kings," Harry began. "Like Aragorn from Lord of the Rings, or Leontes in The Winter's Tale."
Hermione drew a very sharp breath. "Harry … I'm named after Hermione from that play."
"Oh yeah … I remember you saying …"
"But what is a Red King?"
"One half of a set of alchemical mates," Harry explained coyly. "The other being a White Queen. It's all allegorical so most of it doesn't make sense."
"So what makes you a Red King?" Hermione pushed. "Would I be one, because we are pretty similar aren't we?"
"Well, let's see," Gofannon interjected, suddenly animated. "Mr Potter has several markers that stand him out as a Red King … the character is typically governed by the Sun and associated with fire."
"I'm a Leo, so the Sun rules my star-sign," Harry added in a tone which suggested he didn't give the association much weight.
"But then you also have his name … Potter. After blacksmiths, potters are another master of fire, able to use the element as a transmuting force. Alchemists are the quintessential masters of fire … breaking down material, purging it of imperfections, them reforming it in a more refined state."
"Lead becomes copper, becomes silver, becomes gold," Hermione mused. Then she pondered further. "Or an alchemists learns … lets go of false ideas, outmoded ways of being, and improves as a person."
"Not so abstract after all, is it?" Gofannon chuckled. "But Harry is marked by the Sun is a much more … ahem … obvious way. Do you know Ancient Runes at all, Miss Granger?"
"Yes, I take the class at Hogwarts," Hermione replied.
"And could you name all the runes? Draw them?"
"Yes. I learned all the names and symbols by heart over the Summer when I picked up the course textbook," Hermione told him somewhat smugly.
"So you know the Sowilo rune?"
"Yes."
"And what does it represent?"
"It can represent many things, but most commonly it is referred to as The Rune of the Sun."
"And what does it look like?"
"It resembles a … a … a bolt of lightening."
Hermione's voice dropped to a whisper as she said the last part. Without even thinking, without asking if it was okay, Hermione reached up and brushed Harry's messy fringe aside and looked at his famous scar, probably the first time she'd ever studied it so up close. Harry didn't offer a word of complaint … in fact, if Hermione had been of mind to notice, she might have seen Harry close his eyes at her touch …
"Yes, it is Sowilo, right there on young Harry's temple," Gofannon went on, stepping close to inspect the wound himself. "Blessed by the Sun, perhaps even protected by that light for all we know."
"Couldn't You-Know-Who have been channelling that force with the curse?" Hermione asked.
"We can always speculate, but a wizard charged with such darkness channelling a force of the Sun? I think it unlikely," Gofannon replied. "And let us not forget, Harry pulled an actual Philosopher's Stone from where Professor Dumbledore had hidden it … Albus told me that only a person filled with pure goodness could have done that."
Hermione looked fondly at Harry, knowing all abut his inherent goodness, but she looked in confusion, too. When had he handled a real Philosopher's Stone? He'd never told her that. Clearly, the boy still held a lot of secrets from her. She'd have to wheedle the story from him somehow, but she was confident he'd tell her. All she had to do was ask, probably.
"It's still all coincidence," Harry cut in. "So yeah I'm born a Leo and I have lightening on my head, but that's all it is. I don't see me changing the world for the better."
"Well actually, Harry, haven't you … sort of … already done that?" Hermione countered. "The night you got your scar changed the world, didn't it?"
"But I didn't do anything, did I? Other than stick my fat baby head in the way of a curse," Harry chuckled.
Hermione frowned at Harry's churlishness. "However it happened, it did change the world. And we can agree that a world without You-Know-Who is definitely a better one."
"But what about changing myself?" Harry challenged. "Show me evidence of that."
Hermione turned shrewdly to Gofannon. "What would be the typical markers of a White Queen? What are the associations there?"
Gofannon stroked his beard. "Generally, but not exclusively, White Queens are seen as the cool, logical, female accompaniment to the rash, impulsive red males. Ruled by Mercury, linked with the element Earth, White Queens often embody the Mind aspect of the Heart and Mind union that leads to an enlightened soul. Does any of this apply to you?"
"I'm born in September, which makes me a Virgo," Hermione began, pacing as she did so. "In astrology, Virgo is ruled by Mercury and it's metal element is mercury and natural element is earth. My initials are also HG, which is shorthand for mercury on the periodic table."
"And your surname … Granger," Gofannon went on. "A tiller of the earth, like a farmer. So we have a further link there . And your intelligence clearly marks you as Mind. How intriguing."
Harry shook his head. "Still just coincidence. How has any of that changed anything?"
But Hermione, to Harry's surprise, seemed more convinced about this connection than he was. She was practically bobbing her heels at this point.
"Is has changed something, and it's a big something," Hermione insisted. "And that's evidenced by whatever Mr Gofannon was working on over at his desk. I assume that is my Christmas present?"
Gofannon snapped his head from Harry to Hermione so quickly they could all hear it crack. Undeterred, the alchemist ploughed on.
"Ah, so this is the friend I have been crafting for!" he cried in glee. "And you say you haven't noticed the connection? Shame on you, Harry, for being so evasive."
Hermione cocked her head curiously at Harry. "What does he mean?"
"Nothing. He's just grasping again," Harry tried to argue, but his voice betrayed his concern about the revelation to come.
"Nonsense, Harry knows full well what he has been doing … and now I see why," Gofannon scoffed.
"What have you been doing?" Hermione asked, suspiciously.
"He has been spending nights working with his alchemy Professor to refine a very special type of material," Gofannon answered before Harry had a chance. "The process has to be conducted under the light of the Moon, to imbibe the material with lunar power. For, of course, the Moon symbolises Philosophical Mercury, the original White Queen of the alchemical work. And why is that important? Well, your Christmas gift is infused with it."
Hermione flicked a fond look at Harry, who had turned his own eyes down. That he'd gone to so much effort for her, and kept the whole thing a secret just for the surprise … it pooled a well of heat deep inside her chest. Now she just had to see what he'd been up to.
"So, can I get my present now?" she asked eagerly.
"I suppose you'd better, now the story is out," Harry huffed. "Now, don't get too excited, and please don't take it the wrong way."
"Take what the wrong way?" Hermione asked, perplexed.
"Well, technically, this is a piece of jewellery," Harry explained, his voice little and shy. "But it's practical and really useful, it just has to be worn this way."
Hermione felt colour rush to her cheeks in the gloom. Harry had bought her jewellery? That was unexpected. Feeling slightly giddy, Hermione followed Harry to the counter, where Gofannon unfolded a piece of fine purple cloth in front of them. Upon that he laid one of the most astonishing and beautiful silver bracelets that Hermione had ever seen. It was an intricately and delicately woven Celtic knot, dainty as though it should have belonged to an Elven princess from one of her favourite stories. She baulked to think what it would look like on her skinny wrist, if this really was her present.
"Is … is this really for me?" she hushed reverently. She hoped Harry would confirm that it was, for she had fallen in love with the piece at first sight.
"Yeah … Happy Christmas," Harry grinned, clearly relived to see how pleased Hermione was with her gift.
She noticed and had to put Harry's mind at ease. She couldn't believe he was ever in doubt that she wouldn't like this. It wasn't just the beauty of it, the effort it must have taken was just as important to Hermione.
"This is so beautiful, Harry, thank you," Hermione crooned. "You shouldn't have gone to so much trouble."
"You haven't even realised the trouble," Gofannon quirked. "Look closer, Miss Granger."
Intrigued, Hermione bent her head closer to the desk and inspect the bracelet in more depth … and she was astonished at what she saw.
"The metal … it's moving," she hushed. "It's almost liquid-like!"
"Precisely," Gofannon cried, clapping his hands. "That is the special element Harry has been working so hard to produce. It has properties, you may have guessed, of Mercury, imbibed with fine silver. We call it quicksilver. A substitute name for argent vive, or philosophical mercury in the Opus Alchymicum. And Harry has gifted this to you. And it isn't just the band itself."
"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, her skin now hotter than the air of the shop.
"The bracelet isn't the main part of your gift, it's these little charms I've added," Harry confessed. "I saw something like it in the Muggle world … a bracelet where you can add charms of things that you like or reflect your interests. I think they call them Pandora or something. I thought a magical version would be good, so I made one.
"So, here, I've added a little lamp. When you touch it, it'll resize to a full one and provide you with all the light you need. Handy for studying at night or when you do your Prefect rounds next year, 'cause I'm sure you'll be one. And here, there's a little book. I've Charmed it with a really useful copy spell I found. It means that if you touch it to a book, it copies it completely and can store thousands of volumes. It'll save you dragging all the books from the library once you've copied them all, leaving some for the rest of us.
"And lastly, an indestructible quill nib … for all those emergencies when you can't steal my spares!"
Hermione stared opened mouthed and blinked rapidly.
"And … you've done all this for me?"
"Well, the quicksilver does the real work," Harry explained, bashfully. "It's a remarkably transmutable substance. Loads of really good uses. So, do you like it?"
Hermione beamed over, slightly incredulous in her look. "Like it? No, Harry, I don't like it … I love it! No-one has ever given me anything like this before, never gone to this much trouble. I don't know what I've done to deserve it."
"Just been my friend," Harry replied, toeing the floor shyly. "That must be much harder than refining a few nuggets of silver."
"I love it, I really do," Hermione hushed, stroking her bracelet delicately. "Can I take it now?"
"Let me place it in the box for you to take away," Gofannon smiled. "As soon as you place the bracelet on, it will align to your energy. From then on, only your touch will activate these charms, and any you might add later. If this takes off, I may patent the idea … with Harry getting a cut of the profits, of course!"
"Deal!" Harry chuckled. "Any good books to recommend while we're here?"
"Actually yes, just taken a new series in that I think you'll like," Gofannon nodded as he wrapped the bracelet. "It's called His Dark Materials. First volume is Northern Lights, shall I add it to your bill?"
Hermione suddenly gasped in shock. "His Dark Materials is an alchemical story? I love that series."
Harry quirked his eye at her. "I didn't know you were into fantasy fiction?"
"What? Thought I only read textbooks, did you?" Hermione laughed. "I like a good story as much as the next girl. And I love these ones. I always wanted to be Lyra, the heroine. If I ever have a daughter, I think that's what I might name her …"
Then she bit her tongue, as if she'd said too much. Harry just grinned at her.
"Then I'd better get it," Harry told Gofannon. Then he turned to Hermione. "Maybe we can read it together, if you don't mind going over it again."
"Ooh, no, I'd love that," Hermione tittered. "It all starts in Oxford, see, so it always reminds me of home. Hey, maybe we can even guess what our dæmons might be!"
"Dæmons? What are they?" Harry asked as he slipped his heavy money pouch to Gofannon while Hermione was distracted. He didn't really want her to know how expensive her Christmas present was.
"They are spirit animals, sort of like guides," Hermione explained. "They reflect some aspect of your personality."
"Oh, like your Patronus?" Harry asked.
"Maybe … I'd never thought about it like that," Hermione pondered. She turned to Harry as she opened the door to the shop. "Um, Harry, you've never told me … what form does your Patronus take?"
"It's a stag," Harry replied, simply. "Don't tell Gofannon that … 'cause in alchemy the stag, or sometimes the deer, is one of the alchemical mates."
Hermione swallowed hard. "And what's the other half?"
"A unicorn, it's always a unicorn," Harry revealed. "They join in a chemical wedding and run off into the forest of life and blah blah blah blah."
Harry didn't actually say blah. In truth, Hermione didn't hear what he said. All she was focused on was a spell that was racing through her mind, as they stepped out into cool air of Winter London. She knew the spell, she'd read about it, but never tried it. But it was all she could think about trying now, once she was permitted to do magic again.
Expecto Patronum.
She would master that spell, faster than she'd mastered any other …
… and she hoped, with every fibre of her heart, that her Patronus would turn out to be a certain magical horse with a single horn …