Unofficial Portkey Archive

Wherein Fleur is discarded, Dumbledore finds a clue, Hermione's downward emotional spiral continues, Voldemort prepares, goblins make a mistake, Luna stages an intervention, Hermione has nightmares, Harry and Hermione take N.E.W.T.s early, Hermione makes a discovery and meets a not-so-secret admirer.

Thanks once again to betas Mark Gardiner, Shane, and Mathiasgranger, and welcome to new beta Chris Backus.

Disclaimer: I neither own nor claim any other rights in the characters and other concepts created by J.K. Rowling. I make no money, nor do I seek any commercial advantage from this work. As such it constitutes "fair use" as defined in 17 U.S.C. §107.

Chapter 83 - Karma Is A Witch, And A Wizard

Harry was angry and disappointed. His incandescent anger arose from a betrayal of trust. His disappointment targeted another whom, whilst rather less trustworthy, had at least retained Harry's respect.

Harry's anger targeted the part-Veela Fleur Delacour. Her deliberate seduction effort at the Beauxbatons ball was wrong enough. But afterwards she tried - and very nearly accomplished - something far, far worse.

Undoubtedly he had been addled by her Veela powers. He must also have been affected by her Mirror Charm unearthing powerful memories - that must be it. For whatever reason, in the throes of passion he lost track of who was doing what to whom (specifically, to him).

A momentary lapse, quite understandable under the circumstances - Harry convinced himself.

Fleur's attempted seduction had shaded into a far more insidious, impromptu psychotherapy session. Somehow, Fleur had had talked Harry into admitting that he was still in love with Hermione. Not Ginny - Hermione.

He actually believed that ill-founded notion.

Fleur went even further, convincing him to talk things out with Hermione - at Hogwarts - since Hermione had not attended the ball. Thank Merlin she had not, or he might have made an even greater arse of himself before the night had ended.

Was Fleur still plotting to separate him from Ginny, so she could try yet again?

Harry remembered that, after a rocky start, Fleur and Hermione had reached a détente. Another possibility was Fleur attempting to repair his relationship with Hermione as a favour to a friend.

Or had she?

If Fleur was assisting Hermione, why the initial seduction attempt? Things did not add up. After returning to Hogwarts Harry decided not to care. Women could be so inscrutable.

Of course he loved Ginny. He reaffirmed that to himself several times.

His romance with Hermione was over. Whilst regretting how that ended, he was with Ginny now, and only that mattered. Hermione was his friend. She had promised to stay a friend and kept her word. Ginny was his all-consuming passion.

More repetitions.

After escaping Fleur and her Veela allure, the verities in Harry's life returned. He had stumbled back to the Castle, a sleepy and almost boneless Ginny Weasley in tow. His true emotions flooded back.

The Room of Requirement provided a Sobering Potion. A quick Scourgify removed the resultant sick. Harry turned to find an expansive, refreshingly crisp and clean bed. By dawn's early light his relationship with Ginny was again right as rain - their less-than-satisfactory Beauxbatons experience behind them, if not altogether forgotten.

This time he was able to tell Ginny, more-or-less truthfully, that he had not fallen for anyone's feminine wiles.

Ginny had been horrified to learn of Fleur's attempt to entice Harry - doubly so because of Fleur's convinced her to sleep off that drunken stupor. News of Harry's successful repulse of Fleur's seduction, details being unnecessary, turned Ginny's mood from resentful to vindictively euphoric.

Take that, Fleur.

Harry reaped rich carnal rewards. He knew enough to keep the specifics of Fleur's failure to himself. Fleur would not volunteer news of her romantic and sexual defeat, least of all to Ginny.

Dumbledore was an entirely different matter.

A scroll from the Headmaster lay atop Harry's undisturbed sheets when, well after breakfast, he tardily returned to his own bedchamber.

Harry read it and learnt that another of Voldemort's Horcruxes had been located, no details forthcoming. In the Headmaster's inimitable style, he - "invited" was too weak, but "ordered" was too strong - Harry on a recovery expedition.

So far so good. Practical Horcrux searching experience was something Harry hoped to obtain sooner or later.

"Sooner" was the rub. The timing was abysmal, and in Harry's opinion this sort of sacrifice warranted the courtesy of a face-to-face request.

Dumbledore's note firmly stated that timing was non-negotiable.

The mission would occur late the night before the big Quidditch match for which Harry, Ginny, and the entire team had been practising for weeks. Not only was Hogwarts pride riding on a credible showing, but it had become a grudge match. Harry's encounter with Krum at Beauxbatons made competition intensely personal.

Dumbledore's mission threatened their preparation. Tide-driven timing could not be altered. Dumbledore's magic could not outdo King Cnut. Nor, Harry assumed, could his. The Horcrux was apparently secreted in a magical chamber reachable only via a sea cave that Voldemort discovered whilst still Tom Riddle. Access was supposedly impossible - barred by wards to collapse the entire structure if triggered by magic powerful enough to hold back the roiling sea.

Except Voldemort had slightly miscalculated. At low spring tide the sea retreated enough that, for a few hours, it could be restrained by spellwork not strong enough to trip Voldemort's wards. That opportunity existed but once a fortnight - the next being the evening before the Quidditch match.

Dumbledore could not possibly have overlooked that detail, unmentioned in the Headmaster's note.

Even the Headmaster could not say what traps they might encounter. Assuming he returned in one piece from Dumbledore's mission, Harry would be playing Quidditch with minimal rest. He opponent was a vindictive and fired-up Viktor Krum, the world's best Seeker.

Ginny would skin him alive for jeopardising the team's chances. Next to Harry, and perhaps revising for her fast-approaching O.W.L.s, Quidditch was her highest priority.

As team captain, Ron would probably be even more upset. But Ron would have no advance notice. They were no longer on speaking terms.

Ever since learning about Horcruxes, Harry had thirsted for exactly the direct action against Voldemort that Dumbledore now offered. Unfortunately this opportunity's drawbacks were of almost equal magnitude.

* * * *

Hermione Granger was depressed - she had never been more profoundly depressed. Her mood was blacker than when her parents had pulled her out of Hogwarts, and then she had been suicidal. In retrospect, her parents had a point. Maybe she should have rejoined the Muggle world. It certainly would have been safer. Her life would not have been at risk so often … and for what?

Would she have fallen so low without her hopes having been raised so high - only to be crushed so cruelly by one she adored?

The question was unanswerable. From any vantage point blame for her latest devastation fell on Fleur Delacour. She had considered the Frenchwoman a friend, but no friend would have what she did.

Sighing for the umpteenth time, Hermione dug into her robes and extracted a now thoroughly dog-eared piece of parchment.

Fleur's letter had arrived the morning after the ball. It contained a story that seemed bizarre enough at the time - bizarre yet wonderful. Now it was almost surely a deliberate hoax.

"Displia." She reread it one last time.

Chere Hermione:

I must confess. The moment I discovered to shock and dismay that you and Harry were finis, I fully intended to make him mine. If you could not have him, I saw no reason not to try, as my arrangement with you was purely personal.

I missed you tonight at the Palais ball. I suppose it was for the best. I honestly cannot predict your reaction. Harry and his date? The less said, the better. Their incompatibility was painfully obvious. He was the centre of attention, and wished he were not. She sat there drinking our champagne, wishing to be the centre of attention.

It was facile to get Harry suitably en seule. I shall spare you the details. I could have - I intended to - have my way with him. He was interested; unlike when with you. But in circumstances that precluded any lie, Harry's words convinced me that he still loves you.

My honneur did not let me continue. Instead, we had an intense chat. I believe he spoke the truth. It took doing, but I convinced him that he must tell you himself. He promised to do this at once after returning to Hogwarts.

Whilst you must feel crushed by Harry's treatment, I know you love him. Have hope.

Fleur

Yet again Hermione crumpled Fleur's note in her fist.

How could she have believed, even for a second, Fleur's strange tale?

Everything in that letter was a cruel lie. Why would Fleur use her that way? What could possibly justify such an awful prank?

Her hopes had soared giddily after receiving Fleur's owl. She rushed to her dormitory to freshen up and make herself presentable for Harry. She would consider his explanation. She probably would have forgiven him.

Nothing.

Harry had not spoken to her - about that or virtually anything else - since the ball. Instead, he spent even more time with Ginny. He even started studying with her. After their split, revising was one thing Harry still did with her.

Hermione sighed. Now, she was not even useful for that.

She silently cursed her correspondent. Something had evidently happened at the Beauxbatons ball, but nothing that brought Harry closer to her. Had Fleur somehow seduced Harry and convinced him to blame her for his indiscretion?

It made some sense. Ginny's possessiveness had soared, as in the wake of Harry's transient dalliance with Daphne. Hermione could tell Harry was on a very short leash, which explained his revision schedule.

Why would Fleur want to protect Ginny - and so strangely?

Was Fleur trying to induce her to intrude into Harry's and Ginny's relationship, so Fleur could step in and pick up the pieces?

If Fleur was trying to psyche her out, she was succeeding. Hermione was too devastated to consider retaliating.

Nothing made sense. The only certainty was Harry's utter lack of inclination, since the ball, to speak to her about anything remotely personal. Seeing was believing. Harry remained every bit as infatuated with Ginny as before. They spent almost every free moment together.

Something else equally certain - she must stop obsessing over Harry. He had plainly and painfully (for her) moved on.

Hermione stood on shaky legs. She badly needed to clear her head. Her first of two N.E.W.T.s was less than a week away, and she needed to focus on revising.

She had to get this over with first - only not in her favourite library haunt.

She went to her other favourite place of late.

A few minutes later, with the door firmly sealed, Hermione retrieved Fleur's wadded note from her robes.

"Incendio!"

The parchment flared fiercely, but briefly, as it was reduced to ashes. She ground the remnants of Fleur's missive underfoot.

"Evanesco!"

Even the ashes were gone. Enough about that.

Slumping on the musty old bed, surrounded by the usual pale, ghostly outlines, Hermione examined her latest mysterious correspondence. A familiar owl had delivered it this morning, an owl known only to her - not to Harry, Ron, or anyone else at the Castle.

She had crammed this post into her robes without a second glance. She lied to Harry and Ron whilst returning to their common room - that the correspondence involved her summer plans.

Not this summer.

Events from two summers ago resurfaced when she laid eyes on that regal Eurasian owl for the first time in almost a year.

The owl belonged to Viktor Krum. He had finally violated her injunction against further correspondence.

Hermione was now very interested in what Viktor had to say.

* * * *

Slitted, blood-red eyes flashed as the tall thin wizard stalked the stone corridor, hardly making a sound. The morning meeting was a success. The two team leaders accepted their sealed orders and promptly retired to separate quarters - deliberately isolated from one another, and the world - to prepare for their missions.

Lord Voldemort had particularly enjoyed the brief flash of confusion on the face of the ordinarily imperturbable Severus Snape, as the Potions-master realised that simultaneous, multiple operations were planned. Snape obeyed and was bundled off to an undisclosed location to review his orders and devise necessary tactics.

Snape was competent but perhaps not trustworthy. Bella had not trusted him, so the Dark Lord ensured that Snape would have nothing to do with her restoration. Even assuming Snape were otherwise trustworthy, his rivalry with Bella must not become a complication.

Both mission leaders - soon joined by their teams - would be quarantined absolutely from each other, and from any opportunity for treasonous leaks, between now and the zero hour. Only he, Lord Voldemort, would know what all his minions were doing, when, where, and why.

A twisted smile on his lips, the Dark Lord was content, even pleased, with how matters were rounding into shape.

Everything for the main event was ready. He had specific plans for Potter. Indeed, one of the other major missions' primary goals was to occupy the pesky boy, although none of the Death Eaters tasked with that mission knew that.

The false Horcrux created by the traitorous (and duly dispatched) Borgin had been subtly altered. Voldemort personally sequestered it in a seaside cave that might, with luck, entomb Potter and Dumbledore both.

Voldemort had known for months of Dumbledore's pursuit of his Horcruxes. He had suspected as much since being restored to his body - the moment a grovelling Lucius Malfoy returned the remains of his diary.

Unwilling to leave anything so important to chance, he dispatched Bella to recheck each Horcrux's whereabouts. Ever since, the Dark Lord believed the advantage was his. He knew what was safe and what was missing. His enemies' searchers did not.

Forewarned, the Dark Lord took care to be forearmed. He set a trap, surrounding the false Horcrux with extensive protections - blood wards, inferi, poison - more than sufficient to kill any intruder. He intentionally repeated prior spellwork for the outer magical wards, spellwork he knew Dumbledore could identify. Just as deliberately, he left those outer wards slightly underpowered and under-camouflaged. For Potter and Dumbledore to die inside the cave, they first had to enter.

Equally critical, his enemies' attempt had to be at a predictable time. Nothing was more predictable than the tides. He chose a cave near Exmoor that was tidally inaccessible save at the Bristol Channel's peak low.

Having set the stage, Lord Voldemort left clues to the false Horcrux's location where Dumbledore was likely to find them.

A week ago lookouts reported that Dumbledore had made the hoped-for discovery. Time would tell if the Muggle-Loving Fool took the bait, but even if not, Lord Voldemort had a back-up plan - a second-level diversion - to make doubly certain that nothing would interfere with the evening's main objective.

That second level was the second reason the Dark Lord was pleased. His primary Hogwarts operative had reported a string of successes. Another piece of the puzzle was falling neatly into place.

His Death Eaters could now infiltrate Hogwarts Castle. The devices functioned better than anticipated, as the Parseltongue Translator worked in both directions. His operative's felicitous discovery provided access to - and more importantly from - one of Lord Voldemort's most important discoveries as a Hogwarts student.

His Hogwarts squad was tasked to kill, first, Albus Dumbledore and then Horace Slughorn. Even if Potter's infernal luck held, and the boy escaped the cave with his life (with or without Dumbledore) almost a score of Death Eaters would be waiting should he return to Hogwarts. Their orders, beyond the double murder, were to create as much mayhem as possible at Hogwarts for as long as possible.

Lord Voldemort rubbed his hands in anticipation. Ultimately, both the false Horcrux and the Hogwarts Castle attack were diversions. Those were to ensure that the main stroke - unknown even to his other teams - would be unopposed. This plot's beauty was exploiting a critical chink in his opponent's armour, created months ago and for entirely different reasons. Only once they were sequestered would he even tell his own Death Eaters. The Dark Lord expected that surprise would be total.

The secret passage remained intact. Voldemort, trusting nobody with Bella incapacitated, had recently inspected it personally. "Strategic surprise," he muttered with what passed for a grin. Lucius, for once, delivered as promised. His soon-to-be victims had not overhauled their wards.

A recent recruit provided information, revealing evacuation plans, a goblin tunnel, and outrageous abominations such as freed house-elves acting as - he scarcely believed it, even from the likes of Potter - guards for wizard families.

In all Château Blackwalls' defensive planning, conspicuously absent was any move to repair or reinforce its wards. The recruit's information indicated that the paranoid interferer Mad-Eye Moody had thoroughly tested them shortly before being put out of his misery.

Since then? Nothing.

With the other side fatally distracted, his truest follower would rejuvenate at zero hour, through recapitulation of the Dark Lord's own resurrection. Although avoiding the entire process would have been preferable, Bella following in his footsteps had a certain logic, as she had also followed his path to functional immortality.

Thanks to his most recent brilliant idea, the same restorative process would provide the avenue for suitably dispatching Potter's Mudblooded paramour - permanently. Although conflicting with his philosophy of pure-blood supremacy, this latest twist simply had too much recommending it.

His own revivification had been suboptimal, due to that whelp Potter. Hence the Dark Lord required Snape's potions to function effectively. Sentiment aside, Lord Voldemort must remain supreme. Could he continue as Lord, were Bella restored more perfectly than her Master?

The Mudblood solved that problem. Her involvement ensured that, no matter what, he would remain supreme amongst the Death Eaters.

His choice dovetailed with practicality. The Horcrux-mediated spell was sex specific, and what other female had been a greater enemy? Her two Orders of Merlin proved it. The Mudblood sealed her own fate by identifying the exact spell in which she would soon be an unwilling participant.

Poetic justice, the Dark Lord gloated.

Last New Year, he had tasked an entire team to eliminate the Mudblood. Unfortunate events had precluded any real opportunity.

Since then, both the times and the Dark Lord's requirements shifted. With careful recruiting, and judiciously applied Unforgiveables, this most pesky of Mudbloods became more useful. She would be appropriately chastised, but no longer killed outright, at least not by him.

The Dark Lord shook his head. He must concede, grudgingly but sincerely, one point to the Muggle-loving Fool Dumbledore. Fates worse than death did exist - at least for some. The Mudblood would become one of them.

The Dark Lord took a few moments of introspection.

His evil smile returned. Depending on how much the boy's mentor had disclosed, perhaps Potter could be manœuvred into having to kill the Mudblood himself. Unless someone did, victory belonged to him and his Death Eaters.

He intended to win anyway.

Ruining his most dangerous adversary made victory all the easier.

It would depend on his enemies' view of the little gift he planned to bestow. Understanding fully its significance, he intended to capitalize upon fate's unsought opportunity. At a stroke, he would put paid to one possible prophecy, destroy Harry Potter's morale, and substantially up his odds of successfully concluding the other more important prophecy.

Severus was well versed in Potter's guilt complexes. Such intelligence was another reason he tolerated the Potions-master's slippery tendencies. Traitor or no, the man had uses. The Dark Lord would exploit his insights into Potter's mindset.

It could be ridiculously easy.

These layered plots would expose his most faithful servant at Hogwarts at the moment he consummated his plans for Bella - and the Mudblood. That servant's departure would reveal to Potter the sordid truth. The insipid, potion-based charade of the youngest Blood Traitor would dissolve.

Potter would learn - too late - about everything…. Not just the littlest Weasley's deceptions, but the Mudblood's tragic fate.

With Dumbledore dead, and his support system shattered, Potter might even seek him out to end his misery.

Triumph was so delicious Lord Voldemort could practically taste it.

The Dark Lord sat at his writing desk. He had something unexpected to address - a letter from legal counsel.

Since the Ministry's failed attempt to sequester his assets, the Dark Lord had shunned personal oversight of his ancestral properties. He delegated such matters to the discrete hands of Solomon Mensong - with discretion on all but the most serious issues.

The Riddle origin of the great bulk of his property was a most uncomfortable detail. The Dark Lord did not wish to sully himself - or raise questions amongst his minions - with Muggle matters.

The Dark Lord also tasked Mensong with following his destitute wizard bloodline. Except for Horcrux caching, that property was worthless. The hovel that spawned his pathetic, Muggle-loving mother was a waste of time.

Even that had failed. Bella's recheck found no Horcrux, with Dumbledore the likely culprit. Had the Dark Lord given any thought to his ancestral premises, he would have ordered Mensong to abandon them.

With better things to do, that never crossed Lord Voldemort's mind.

Mensong had owled with peculiar news. Almost unnoticed, an ex parte writ of debt proceeding had been filed against the old Gaunt property in the Ministry's common pleas court.

Why would anybody do such a thing?

Who would care?

According to Mensong, the only debt encumbering the property was a centuries-old Gringotts mortgage.

Goblin mortgages were never enforced, were they? Wizards had long ago brought the treacherous goblins to heel on such matters, based upon….

The Dark Lord's red eyes almost popped out of his reconstituted skull.

Not any longer … not necessarily….

The perfidious goblins - Potter's goblins - were scheming against pure-blood power. The Black Estate! Potter must have inherited enough Gringotts equity to block the retaliatory threat that had kept those pip-squeak animals at bay.

Protected by Potter, the Gringotts mortgage holders were plotting to move against wizard indebtedness.

This was political and financial Erumpment horn, and the goblins knew it. With the threadbare old Gaunt homestead they were starting small, seeking to set stealthy precedents against pure-blooded debtors.

This stroke of fortune confirmed the Dark Lord's faith in his lucky star - his destiny to prevail. Of all the inconspicuous, debt-ridden holdings in wizard Britain the goblins' test case belonged to his family.

Whipping out his favorite black ostrich plume quill, Voldemort composed new instructions for his trusted counsel to investigate, confirm, gather evidence - but offer no legal opposition.

Above all, he was to keep the matter confidential. Potter's goblins would receive all the rope needed to hang themselves.

This goblin duplicity - ostensibly posing as Ministry allies against his Death Eaters - would destroy the backing Dumbledore's faction had garnered in the Wizengamot. Matters need only be revealed at the proper moment.

Almost every pure-blood family, regardless of political orientation, would be beggared if the Goblins ever collected the massive wizard debts accrued since the end of the last goblin rebellion.

The backlash would surely be explosive. Potter's support would evaporate when his role as the goblins' enabler was exposed. He might well face direct retaliation.

By then, Potter could turn to neither the Muggle-Loving Fool nor the unnervingly clever Mudblood.

Voldemort watched as the great black shag bearing his return post disappeared in the darkness. At moments like this he wished Bella were available to help him celebrate.

Soon enough, she would be.

* * * *

Luna Lovegood worried about Hermione Granger. The girl looked wrung out, her aura tinged with something dark and opaque. Luna could not read auras - a far too advanced skill - but could sense them. Hermione's seemed more morose and depressed even than at the nadir of last summer's search for Harry.

Hermione, who never set much store in her appearance, took that dearth of attention to new extremes. She could not be sleeping well, and Luna feared Hermione was over-indulging her innate workaholic tendencies. Far too frequently of late, she spotted her friend in the library swotting late into the evening.

It was one way to avoid them in the Gryffindor common room, Luna supposed.

Then, a most unexpected housemate brought Luna most unexpected news. She came away convinced that Hermione's reaction to recent events had spun out of control.

Serious intervention was required.

As in the summer, Luna volunteered herself. Hermione was one of her precious few friends. Beyond that, Luna could not permit the slow self-destruction of the Brenhines o yr Coedwig.

Hermione was now usually absent from breakfast, unlike Harry, who took early breakfast in the Great Hall more frequently than ever. Most mornings he sat alone; sometimes joined by Dean and Seamus. They were becoming Harry's new best mates, with Ron and Neville refusing to associate with him.

Ginny? Ginny was never a morning person, and nothing - even Harry - seemed to change that.

This morning, armed with new, first-hand information, Luna acted. After fruitlessly searching for Hermione, Luna set a treasonous course - treason for a Hermione stalwart.

Steeling herself, Luna sought parlay with the enemy.

She approached Harry in the Great Hall. "Harry, do you know where Hermione is? I need to ask her something … important about … Transfiguration, and I can't find her anywhere…."

Harry noticed Luna barely looking at him, indicating likely mendacity. So what? The Ravenclaw was one of those punishing him for the sin of changing girl friends. "I thought she'd have told you," he grumbled. "We've split morning use of the Room of Requirement. She takes the first hour before classes, and me the second. Why not look for her there?"

"I did, both of the last two days," Luna responded, trying to match Harry's deliberately icy tone word for word. "She hasn't been there."

"Then I don't know bugger all," he told her. "Hermione doesn't report her whereabouts to me. She's her own person."

"Harry, it's important," Luna pleaded, dropping what had been, from the outset, a poor pretense of cool detachment.

Harry stopped pretending to eat. He stayed mute for agonisingly long seconds before tossing down his serviette in an exaggerated display of pique. "All right, then. Follow me." He stalked briskly from the Great Hall with Luna at his heels.

Harry motioned Luna inside the first empty room they came across. "Colloportus," he spelled, closing and locking the door, the latter somewhat to Luna's distress. Harry must realise she was not Daphne Greengrass.

Her concerns eased when Harry produced the Marauder's Map. He flipped the Map this way and that before finally spotting Hermione. That was a relief. Luna's agitation was contagious. Harry still numbered his ex amongst his friends, despite their current relationship best being described as "correct."

"There she is," Harry pointed, his tension ebbing. He showed Hermione's dot to Luna. "That room's used for Library Off Site Storage. She's been revising for her N.E.W.T.s almost nonstop, so she probably needed some book."

Unlike Harry, Luna knew exactly what was in that room. Hermione had showed her whilst they collaborated to rescue Harry from Death Eater captivity. Hermione had risked her life for him … and this was how he repaid her.

"Thanks, Harry," Luna replied, keeping her response civil. "I hope you're right." Having violated the Hermione supporters' embargo long enough, and Harry's company being increasingly unpalatable, Luna promptly left.

Luna rose with the next sunrise. Quick visits to the Great Hall and the Room of Requirement were unavailing. After waiting fifteen minutes, Luna departed. To comply with the Castle's no-magic-in-the-halls rule, Luna Disillusioned herself before exiting the Room.

As stealthily as she could, Luna slipped into the side hallway outside the L.O.S.S. room. The door was ajar. Luna silently magicked it open a bit further. She saw Hermione sitting cross legged on the floor, seemingly transfixed.

Hermione appeared entirely unaware of Luna's disguised presence, so the girl slipped inside. Within seconds it was painfully obvious that Hermione was not studying any library books.

"Hermione, that's really not advisable," Luna firmly declared as she ended her Disillusionment. "You know full well the Mirror of Erised's capabilities."

"Aaaack!" Hermione nearly hit the ceiling. "Luna, you surprised me!" she squealed.

"I could say the same about you," Luna replied as she yanked the dustsheet over the Mirror. "Why have you started using the Mirror of Erised?"

"It's not…. I've only…. I don't…. I do take precautions," Hermione babbled, pointing at something strapped to her wrist. Accepting that she was well and truly caught out, Hermione stopped and composed herself. Looking at the floor, she responded sadly. "Must you ask the obvious?"

"The Mirror provides neither knowledge nor truth," Luna recited, "merely your most desperate desire."

Not surprisingly, Hermione burst into tears. Luna sat next to Hermione and held her, letting her Empath abilities take over as Hermione sobbed.

Luna was appalled at the depth of Hermione's depression and the instability of her emotions. Luna wondered, if she should feel that way, would she have the strength even to lie down?

Eventually the tears stopped. "I can't help it," Hermione gave up and confessed. "I keep hoping for a change. Logically, I want it to change. But nothing does…. I'm an idiot … a fool … I still love him. I can't help it."

"You're certainly no idiot, nor a fool," Luna reassured Hermione, tacitly overlooking her other words. "Although doing this," Luna gestured at the Mirror, "is most assuredly idiotic. You could become addicted - it could kill you - you know that."

"I - I said I take precautions," Hermione resisted, displaying her right wrist. "That's a timed, short-range Portkey. It works fine within the Castle's wards. I'm very careful. I only allow myself an hour."

"But for how long, Hermione?" Luna challenged her.

"Always … never more than an hour," Hermione repeated. "I can't use the Room for training when Harry has it."

"It's an hour you could be sleeping," Luna shot back. "Look at you, you're…."

"I don't want more sleep," Hermione cut her off.

"You need it," Luna persisted. "Have you used a real mirror lately?"

"It's … it's … the dreams," Hermione finally admitted. "I can't…."

"What dreams?" Luna demanded immediately. This was more than she had suspected.

"I have to stay Harry's friend," Hermione mumbled tangentially. "I promised if we broke up, I'd stay his friend. I think can live without his love if I must, but I'd die without his friendship. And he might, too…."

Aghast, Luna pressed. "You see this in your dreams? You have to confront this, Hermione, it's not right. Something's the matter, I'm sure. Ron agrees."

"NO!" Hermione almost screamed.

WHAM! The door slammed shut, driven by the older girl's wandless, wordless, almost instinctive magic. Luna retreated at the noise, but nothing else - nothing else physical - happened.

"You can't get involved!" Hermione screeched. "You know what will happen! You saw what happened! Harry's chosen, and I will not interfere. He's a guy. He'd only get mad. Coming from me it would be worse. I'd lose him forever! I can't bear that!"

"What do you mean worse?" Luna argued. "What could be worse than this? You're pining away before the Mirror of Erised, for Merlin's sake! You could die."

"You saw it with your own boyfriend, Luna," Hermione reminded. "When he was with Cho we interfered. He blew up at me. You wouldn't believe what hateful things he said and did. We couldn't stand being in the same room! We STOPPED EVEN TALKING!!"

She seemed gripped by an irrational, emotional fear. "Hermione…." Luna tried to back off.

"Harry would be a hundred times worse! My motives are suspect - even to me. After all, I wasn't Ron's ex-girlfriend trying to break up his shiny new relationship…."

"I'm not sure Ron saw it like that," Luna tried interrupting, but her observation fell on deaf ears.

"…And Ron, he just got mad," Hermione carried on. "Harry, you know how he is. He bottles things inside until he loses it and explodes. He could … he could tell me he never wants to SPEAK TO ME AGAIN!!"

Hermione verged upon hysteria. Luna again tried calming her. "Hermione, Hermione," she reached out and took her friend's hand.

Luna went green and nearly spewed. Before had been bad. This sensation was much worse. Hermione felt depressed beyond Luna's imagination. She was past depression - in the throes of abject despair. She might even be suicidal.

Luna knew how that felt. For days, after her mother died, she refused to get out of bed. Yet Ron and Neville both mentioned how hard Hermione was driving herself. The evidence - the ruby red jewels - was available to anyone scrutinising the House Point competition. Almost every Ravenclaw did. Hermione was garnering more points for Gryffindor than ever.

"Hermione," Luna pressed. "What is in these dreams?"

"I see exactly what I said!" Hermione wailed. "I do what you just recommended. I comment about how strange it is … him and Ginny…. Or somebody else does for me. He ignores me. I persist, and finally he explodes, and orders me away. Sometimes Voldemort kills him. Sometimes he survives. One way or another we stop speaking - forever. Why, last night…."

Hermione hesitated. "Go on," Luna encouraged.

"I dreamt that I … we … we had a terrible fight," Hermione murmured, her anger wringing itself out, leaving only blank-eyed despair behind. "He told me if I couldn't accept his being with Ginny, not to speak to him again, ever …. I didn't, and he didn't. Years later, I have no idea how many, I had settled. I must have married Ron…."

Luna regarded her oddly. "My Ronald?"

Guilt immediately wracked Hermione. "Oh, Circe, Luna, I'm sorry…. I'm not after Ron. Really, I'm not. When he tried, I told him, no…. Oh, Merlin…. I'm so sorry! I should go drown myself in the lake or something…."

"No, Hermione," Luna implored. She reached out to restrain her friend physically, to keep Hermione from leaving - knowing the emotions she would encounter. "It's okay. I know. Ron admitted it to me…."

Hermione looked dumbstruck. "He did?" she asked.

"Yes, when he re-asked me to the Beauxbatons ball," Luna told her. "I could sense something wasn't right, and he admitted trying to ask you."

"At least one of us hasn't been involved with a liar, then," Hermione snipped. "I really should go."

"Wait! At least finish with the dream," Luna implored. "I promise not to do anything … hostile … to Harry and Ginny, unless you want."

Hermione stopped. "Promise? Really?"

"I mean it," Luna reiterated.

Hermione sighed and plopped back on the floor. "Oh all right. Then, years later … like I said, I had somehow married Ron. We had several children. We were at, I think, King's Cross…. Yes, that's it; we were sending our youngest to Hogwarts. It's getting hazy. Harry was there, with Ginny, quite content with his own kids. Somebody else, too. I think…. Somebody he doesn't…."

"Doesn't what?" Luna sought to keep Hermione on track.

"Doesn't like…. Yes, that's it … it was Malfoy," Hermione recalled the dream. "Anyway, he and Ron seemed pleasant enough. I don't remember much else, but that doesn't matter. The ending was the same - it always is. Harry never said a word to me…. He wasn't mean; he simply acted as if I weren't there. I mean, I think he even acknowledged Malfoy! Malfoy! And not a word for me! Not one! I can't live that way!!"

"Hermione…?"

Once started, Hermione was unstoppable until stopping herself.

"No, I can't! I know I'm pathetic, but I need him in my life, even if only as a friend. If that's all that's left for me, then I'll settle for scraps from his table. He has to defeat Voldemort, Luna, and love is how to do it. He's not in love with me anymore so it has to be Ginny, I guess…. Or Merlin knows who, but somebody. He has to find love to have any chance. I can't let my inability to get over him ruin everything. It could kill him!"

"So you won't do anything about all this?" Luna asked with a sinking feeling. "It could kill you."

"Maybe I'll ask Pomfrey for Dreamless Sleep Potion," Hermione conceded, "but trying to break up Harry and Ginny, no. Whatever they have is between them. And you won't either, right?"

Hermione's eyes bore into her friend.

Luna looked put out but nodded. "I promise, and you know I keep my promises," she replied resignedly.

The next day Luna took breakfast early in the Great Hall. Ron was with her, looking rather sleepy. Harry was absent.

Hermione stormed over. "Luna!" she yelled, swiveling some other early risers' heads in their direction. "I told you not to interfere, dammit. Did you….?"

Ron rose between the two girls. "Yes, she did, and I told her it was the right thing. Now calm down…."

It had been months since Ron had taken such a tone with Hermione. Ordinarily, things would have escalated rapidly into a row, but for once his resolute attitude had the desired effect. Rather than screaming, Hermione replied with a curt, "You told," and a cold stare.

Before responding Luna cast a Muffliato. Magic in the Great Hall was allowed. "I only promised no interference with you know what. I never promised I wouldn't help you." She declared without remorse. "Yes, I told Professor McGonagall. I assume she had it moved?"

Hermione deflated entirely. "Yes, it's gone. I suppose you're right."

"Now you're even," Ron quipped.

Some fire returned to Hermione's cheeks. "Just what does that mean, Ronald?"

"I seem to remember a certain know-it-all once doing something similar with certain Firebolt," Ron continued. "Now, you're on the receiving end, so you're even."

"That was between me and Harry," Hermione protested.

"I didn't say you and Harry were even," Ron pointed out. "Between you … well, only you two can decide if things are ever even."

* * * *

N.E.W.T.s.

Nastily. Exhausting. Wizard. Tests.

Every year, the week before fifth years sat for O.W.L.s, the Examinations Authority administered the N.E.W.T.s. It endeavored mightily to ensure that its tests lived up to their name. Every degree candidate in Britain - witch or wizard, Hogwarts or not - took them.

The big four: Transfiguration, Charms, Potions, and Defence, were always held in the afternoon and always in the same order, from Tuesday through Friday. Each N.E.W.T. was a grueling six-hour combination of theoretical and practical exercises commencing precisely at one in the afternoon and ending, just as precisely, at seven that evening.

N.E.W.T.s for all other subjects were in the mornings, and their order varied. Those lasted three or four hours, depending on subject, between eight in the morning and noon.

All, that is, except Astronomy, the peculiar subject. The two-hour Astronomy theoretical was always on Monday afternoon, between four and six. Given clear weather, the practical was that evening, beginning 11:30 p.m. Should the weather be foul, a possibility at these latitudes even in late May, candidates had to return the first clear night thereafter, no matter what other N.E.W.T.s they might have taken that day.

Given these examinations' rigor - twice as long as the corresponding O.W.L. and far more difficult - no degree candidate ordinarily took more than five, or at the outside six, N.E.W.T.s. Auror applicants, facing very stringent employment requirements, typically sat for the "big four" and nothing else. Any witch or wizard ambitious enough to endure more than that was probably looking to a career in Healing or the Department of Mysteries.

In recent years - unlike the O.W.L.s - all N.E.W.T.-level testing was conducted at the Examinations Authority's premises at County Hall Island. But earlier in the year Death Eaters demolished the place due largely to Hermione's impertinently outscoring Tom Riddle on her O.W.L.s. The destroyed premises had reflected the Authority's desire for a more merit-based system. Before the Authority acquired that large facility, most N.E.W.T.s were at Hogwarts.

Many wizards had felt, with some justification, that holding examinations at the Castle gave Hogwarts' students a "home court" advantage. Not that they really needed it, since Hogwarts was by far the most prestigious magical school in the British Isles.

In any event, after prolonged dithering the Ministry approached the Muggle government and came away with County Hall Island. Only the Astronomy N.E.W.T. remained at Hogwarts - its superior seeing conditions could not be denied. Even on that score, some in the Wizengamot sought a neutral facility in a corner of a Welsh dragon preserve.

The Muggles received nothing. It was an even swap.

County Hall Island was now a smoking ruin - another of the all too frequent "gas explosions." The Examinations Authority was ambivalent about rebuilding. Hogwarts was again the only place that could handle the number of examination candidates, with one exception.

The Auror Corps volunteered to conduct the Defence tests in their London facility. In every other respect, the N.E.W.T.s reverted to a system familiar to James and Lily Potter.

Rumours abounded that the Anti-Cheating Charm on the sky blue N.E.W.T. booklets was more than that - that it magically altered test questions to concentrate on whatever aspects of the subject the unfortunate examinee knew least well. Maybe that rumour was false, but it reflected both the difficulty of the examinations and the paranoia of the examinees.

Rumour or no, Hermione's first N.E.W.T., Arithmancy, on Tuesday morning, 27 May, was neither particularly nasty nor exhausting. Arithmancy, even including Numerology, involved a manageable number of axioms, postulates, and formulæ. Hermione had long since learnt and mastered them all.

The Ministry's invigilators escorted Hermione and dozens of other candidates into rows of precisely separated seats. Once the examination began, invigilating was unnecessary. The Anti-Cheating Charm created a private cubicle for each examinee - totally isolated from everyone else.

Hermione ripped through the questions, completing everything with time to spare, according to her timing hourglass. The final question, combining graphing and writing, was allotted a full third of the three-hour limit. The task was to plot the angles and forces for ley lines associated with a particular magical location in England. Hermione was assigned Hogwarts Castle - for all she knew, every examinee received a different place.

Hogwarts was undoubtedly the most complex location.

She tapped the blank parchment with her wand, and an outline map of the British Isles appeared with Hogwarts already marked. Hermione went to work, adding Hogsmeade, Godric's Hollow, the northern tip of Loch Ness, the Isles of Skye and Mann, Ballycastle, Holyhead, and Pantllefrith.

The more she plotted angles and distances on her map, the more Hermione was intrigued. A greater relationship existed than met the eye, she was certain. She could not quite put her finger on it.

She added the two major ley line junctions of southern England - Glastonbury, and of course, Stonehenge. They also fit the pattern, even more profoundly.

In her head - no calculators allowed - she figured the first derivative of the lengths of the ley lines as related to the size of their angles. It was….

Eureka! The rate of change between the distances and the angles clustered closely about the Golden Mean.

To explore the emerging pattern, Hermione switched on the fly from ordinary latitude and longitude to polar coordinates centred on Hogwarts. A Muggle invention, polar coordinates were not taught in Arithmancy, but Hermione had learnt them…. No, she would not go there. Harry would not ruin this day.

Hermione was pursuing a new mathemagical relationship not mentioned in any book she had ever read, even Hogwarts: A History.

Polar coordinates simplified the maths immensely. Onto her map she sketched the familiar chambered nautilus spiral connecting the various points - just like torch sconces at…. No. Stay focussed.

The spiral began more or less to the east, with Hogsmeade, and swung north anticlockwise to collect the other nearby Scottish locales. It swept across the Isle of Skye and through Northern Ireland before turning eastward again through Wales, Somerset, and Salisbury before disappearing into the English Channel.

Her discovery: The primary ley lines affecting Hogwarts all related to one another along the Golden Mean. Hermione could not even begin to fathom the implications in the time left in her N.E.W.T. examination. Nobody had apparently noted this relationship before - ever.

Her hand trembling in anticipation, Hermione went beyond what the examiners required and added the strongest French origin point for ley lines that affected England - Rouen, where occupying English troops once executed the great witch Jeanne d'Arc.

It also fit - within the margin of error of her unassisted mental calculations.

Still something looked odd. The "phi" she had calculated - the line about which her golden spiral spiraled - was cockeyed. It almost pointed north, but not quite. How elegant it would be for the phi she had discovered to parallel the Prime Meridian of Greenwich.

Hermione's data spoilt the elegance of her theory.

Or not.

"Point me!" Hermione incanted. The reason for the Four-Point Spell was to cause one's wand to behave as a compass.

Grabbing her quill once again, Hermione jotted down her latest discovery, completing her answer.

Hermione did not know whether her discovery had practical consequences, but she planned to tell the Headmaster at her earliest convenience. It might explain certain peculiarities of Hogwarts Castle.

That convenience came quite early. Hermione's use of the Four-Point Spell was unusual, and attracted the invigilators' attention. Due to her unusual status as the first pre-seventh-year ever to attempt the Arithmancy N.E.W.T., the invigilators had Professor Vector accompany them.

They encountered a very excited Hermione Granger, her examination paper completed fifteen minutes early.

"Miss Granger, the invigilators detected you using the Four-Point Spell," Professor Vector went right to the point. "For the subject matter, that is highly unorthodox. It isn't forbidden, but you can understand why we must ensure that no underhanded magic is being performed."

"I'll tell you, but only you," Hermione declared. "I won't chance the security of the Castle."

Professor Vector looked perplexed. She dismissed the two invigilators. As the resident professor of the subject in question, that was her prerogative.

"What is going on, Miss Granger?" Professor Vector asked once they were alone. "Why did you use that spell?"

"The proofs are in my calculations on the exam paper," Hermione explained quickly. "I've sketched how all the ley lines affecting Hogwarts are related through the Golden Mean. I don't know what that could mean, but I'm worried it could affect the Castle's wards."

"Interesting…," the ordinarily unfathomable Vector allowed. "But the spell?"

"It helped me learn something more. My Golden Mean's base line was close to true north, but off a bit. I had an inkling what the deviation might reflect. I used the spell because compasses don't point to true north, but rather to magnetic north."

"Yes, a bit less than ten degrees difference in these parts," Professor Vector agreed. "So…?"

"With my wand as a compass, I proved that this difference, the magnetic declination at Hogwarts, is precisely the angle that my phi line deviates from true north," Hermione revealed.

"Assuming you're correct…." Professor Vector's thought process started to move through the gears.

"Believe me, I am," a normally respectful Hermione interrupted.

"…that means that Hogwarts' ley lines are synchronous with the earth's magnetic field…."

"Yes, implying that local magnetic variations would react strongly with anything at Hogwarts dependent upon those ley lines," an impatient Hermione finished. "Do you know whether that would affect the Castle's wards?"

"No, but I can see why we would be well advised to bring this to the Headmaster's attention," Professor Vector agreed.

The ensuing conversation with the Headmaster was reassuring. Hogwarts wards were powered solely by magical means and not subject to electro-magnetic manipulation. The Hogwarts environment, however, had always disrupted Muggle electronics rather more than other magical locales, and Hermione's discovery might finally explain why.

As had Hermione's comet discovery during her Astronomy O.W.L., her novel deductions about Hogwarts' ley lines prompted a flurry of confirmatory activity. Ultimately, her discovery would be validated, which yielded Arithmancy marks similar to her earlier achievement in Astronomy.

In the short term, the back-and-forth reduced her last-minute study time for Charms - inexorably scheduled for the next morning.

Whilst Arithmancy demonstrated the power of Hermione's focussed intellect, Charms starkly laid bare the depths of her ongoing personal despair.

With only minor glitches due to the sheer scope of the subject, Hermione completed the three-hour written examination - administered under similar conditions in the Great Hall - in extremely good stead. The practical side took place in either the Chamber of Secrets or the Room of Requirement, by random selection.

Hermione drew the Room, with all its looming personal history. Still, she performed better than anyone else in her group of ten examinees - which included D.A. members Roger Davies (who stayed well away from her), Vickie Frobisher, and Geoffrey Hooper, as well as Head Girl Beth Dunston - until the review board called her forward for what nobody expected would be a particularly difficult demonstration.

"Miss Granger, please demonstrate Expecto patronum publicus."

That should have been easy. She had performed an advanced version of the Communications Patronus before entire Great Hall only a few weeks before….

…Her Patronus had been deployed to ask Harry to the Beauxbatons Ball.

Harry ultimately attended that ball with Ginny.

Hermione had not gone at all.

Gamely, Hermione drew her wand and attempted to cast the called-for spell. "Ex … Expecto Patronus…."

Nothing happened. Not even a wisp of shapeless silvery mist emerged from the tip of Hermione's wand. Maintaining her composure despite a sudden crushing feeling of doom, Hermione stood inertly before the board, her wand pointing impotently into space.

"Miss Granger, if you'd like to retry at the end of the group…."

She knew at once what had happened.

The positive force of the Patronus Charm was fuelled by powerfully happy thoughts or memories

Hermione could not muster the requisite happy thoughts or memories. Such thoughts had pertained to Harry, and Harry was no longer hers. She had no personal happiness worth mentioning. The Mirror of Erised confirmed its reputation, providing her with neither wisdom nor truth. Everything it showed her was a lie - a forlorn fantasy.

Desperately she turned to academics, a tried and true source of accomplishment. Again she drew a blank. What good were such achievements? She would be useful, always useful, but nothing more. She was a tool, maybe even a weapon, but never coveted for her own sake. Had Harry not shown that? She had helped him escape any number of tight spots great and small, but for what?

So he could discard her and take up with someone else at the first opportunity.

Her thoughts spiralled downwards - dreams had turned to nightmares. Her life's gates seemed closed. Hermione's burnt out confusion convinced her that nobody she cared about cared about her. Happiness was an illusion….

Hermione's wand arm fell slackly to her side. "No sir, a second try wouldn't make any difference."

To the group's astonishment Hermione sat down, taking a zero on that part of the exercise.

She had taught that spell to the D.A.

No longer.

* * * *

Ignorant of Hermione's Charms mishap, Harry plodded towards his own examination, preparing for his DADA N.E.W.T on Friday. Hermione was not about to tell Harry that her Patronus had deserted her, or why. He had moved on; she would not confess her inability to do the same.

Thus, within twenty-four hours Hermione was back to what she did best - being useful - useful to Harry.

Unwittingly, he approached her almost immediately when Hermione returned to Hogwarts following her Charms fiasco (relatively speaking - only an E in the practical, but an overall O due to spectacular essays).

"Hermione?" Fortunately she was facing away, allowing a precious moment to erase the wrung out, haunted look from her face.

"What is it, Harry?"

"Well … now that you're done, I was wondering if, tomorrow, you could help me practise for my Defence N.E.W.T. Shak excused me from class to revise, and from what everybody's said about your Arithmancy exam I'll bet Vector would let you skive off…."

That news travelled fast. Several students had seen Professor Vector and the invigilators approach Hermione's cell towards her N.E.W.T.'s end. To protect Hermione's academic reputation the Professor had released a statement that, far from being in any trouble, Hermione had made some sort of discovery.

"…That would leave History as the only class left - and we both know how worthless Binns' lectures are…." Finishing his request, Harry looked hopefully at Hermione.

Friends help friends. Hermione always helped Harry revise before - usually more than he wanted. Now, instead of her nagging, he was asking.

She would not, however, risk being stood up.

"I'd be happy to, Harry," Hermione answered cautiously. "You're being responsible … but are you sure that no other commitments will interfere?"

"You mean … like Ginny?" Harry sensed where she was going.

"Well … yes," Hermione confirmed.

"She's gone frantic, with her O.W.L.s next week," Harry replied with a slight smirk. "The only one she's confident about is Defence. She's yanking her hair out about Potions. So I'm sure … as much as I can be, anyway … that she'll be quite busy with her own revising tomorrow."

"That's not a problem for her?" Hermione had to ask.

Harry misunderstood completely. "A huge one, actually…."

"Then, I probably shouldn't…."

"… if she does poorly…. What? What makes a difference to you?"

"I don't intend to do to Ginny what she did to me," Hermione snipped.

Harry went red in the face. "Sorry, that's not what I meant at all. Ginny's only problem is with her O.W.L.s," he hastily explained. "Not you - or even with you helping me. She trusts me with you. Now, if you were Daphne…."

Hermione broke in. "Harry, shouldn't you quit whilst you're ahead?"

For once, Harry did.

She suppressed a mournful sigh. She could not, would not, let him down. "Yes, I'll help you."

Harry proved admirably serious about revising. He met Hermione bright and early the next (Thursday) morning in the Room of Requirement. He intended to spend all day studying Defence-related spell casting.

Thinking ahead - presumptuously but accurately - he had obtained Shak's permission for Hermione to miss class to help him. The quid pro quo? Hermione had to cover that day's exercise in specialised Shielding Charms with Harry.

They had thoroughly studied those Charms in summer Auror training - as Shak well knew - so it was effectively no requirement at all.

Harry's plan for revising differed significantly from Hermione's.

Hermione's swotting habits consisted of first, identifying precisely the material to be mastered. Second, assessing her preparedness, she would prioritise the material. Third, and finally, she would methodically revise everything in order from beginning to end - repeating the process as many times as necessary.

Harry approached his Defence N.E.W.T. the way he fought - extemporaneously.

He wanted another duel with Hermione, a reprise of their September exhibition for the D.A. - only longer. He pleaded that he learnt Defence techniques much more effectively through improvisation than by Hermione's disciplined methods.

She could not argue with Harry's results. Besides, it was his N.E.W.T.; what right did she have to tell him how to prepare?

Reluctantly, she agreed.

It was a disaster.

During their prior duel in the Room of Requirement, she had something to fight for. This time, she had nothing. Their "duel" amounted to little more than his using her for target practice, and it showed.

Three times within the first half-hour, Harry's powerful spellwork knocked Hermione silly. After the third time, when she was blasted backwards off a barren bluff into deep water - almost drowning before Harry rescued her - she finally gave up.

"Harry … I just can't do this," she confessed sadly. "It's not the same. If we keep this up, I'll end up in the Hospital Wing, or worse…. Revenge for breaking your leg, I suppose."

The Room spontaneously provided them with absurdly out of place armchairs on a windswept moor.

"Awww, Hermione," Harry tried offering her relief. "Take a head start or something. I'm sure you'll improve once you get warmed up. How about I lay off the Elemental Magic?"

"Then you're pulling your punches, Harry," Hermione told him. "Death Eaters won't. What would Mad-Eye have thought…?"

Harry grimaced hearing his deceased guardian's name. "He'd say that any fight worth fighting is worth giving your all - or some such, but probably more colourful."

"That's right," Hermione pounced. "So that means duelling with me right now would be worse than useless - especially since I'd wager Galleons to gobstones that Mad-Eye's colleagues will be judging your N.E.W.T."

"How do you figure…?"

"Well, since the Aurors are hosting the examination, it stands to reason…." Hermione's voice trailed off, but Harry knew enough not to interrupt. The "I'm coming up with something" expression on Hermione's face was as clear as her T-shirt slogan, "Karma is a witch."

"Harry, do you still have your Aural Pensieve?" she suddenly asked.

"Er … yeah, I should," he answered, somewhat mystified. "I wasn't exactly around at the end of the holidays to give it back."

"Then that's how you should revise," Hermione declared. Drawing her wand, she incanted, "Apparecium, chez Harry Aural Pensieve!"

They waited, but nothing happened.

"Umm … Hermione, Hogwarts isn't really my home now," Harry observed, once their wait grew too long and the silence too heavy.

"Oh, right, the Château," Hermione remembered, chiding herself for forgetting the place where….

"Let me try," Harry intervened. "Accio Harry's Aural Pensieve!"

Harry barely finished the incantation when, with a loud "POP," his Aural Pensieve appeared at his feet.

"Wow!" Hermione exclaimed with unfeigned admiration. "That was some Summoning Charm, Mister. Where'd you learn that?"

"McGonagall and Shak - during all those detentions," Harry confessed. "They're trying to channel my you-know-what power into something useful … especially since I … well, I've been pants at Animagus training lately. Can't seem to manage it."

Hermione sighed at Harry's revelation, which mirrored her own lack of progress. "Were only Dumbledore as creative with me…. Maybe I'd do better, at least at something."

Harry had no answer. "Umm … sure, I guess…. Well, how do we do this? Do you have yours?"

"No, goodie two-shoes Hermione returned hers to the Aurors," she admitted ruefully. "So we've only one. But as I recall, each chapter had exam questions. I can quiz you on every chapter we were taught, and on everything we taught ourselves … except Chapter 128, of course."

"Of course," Harry echoed, acceding to Hermione's plan of action.

Using test material available on Harry's Aural Pensieve, Hermione combined the roles of taskmaster, teacher, and occasionally Socratic questioner. For hours Harry demonstrated Auror spells as Hermione meticulously marched him through each chapter's revision questions. Anything he did not remember, they reviewed on the Aural Pensieve.

They paused only for lunch - and then dinner.

In the end Hermione even agreed to skip History of Magic.

By the time they finished, shortly before curfew, Hermione had put Harry through his paces twice for all sixty-two chapters on their summer Auror curriculum, and once through everything else (another forty-seven, in whole or in part) that she judged relevant.

The rest was up to Harry.

The following day, Friday, 30 May, found Hermione ensconced in her usual library hideaway. Having finished Friday classes, and an extra-credit Healing assignment, she was coping Su Li's notes from yesterday's History of Magic class. Su was the only other class member Hermione trusted to compile reasonably adequate notes.

Hearing a familiar rushing noise, Hermione looked up, to see the approaching bright streak. The silver stag disappeared within her, leaving its telltale tingling signature.

Someone could still conjure a Patronus.

Harry's almost breathless voice echoed in her mind.

"Hermione! It was brilliant!

You were brilliant…! Sussed them right out, you did.

That's all they did … took questions from Auror training, I mean. Nothing - not a single thing - on the test we hadn't covered. Not one during the whole bloody six hours!

Everybody was there, the Minister, even bloody Thicknesse. He left quickly enough, since I wasn't cocking up …. It was in the Situation Room … not just me, everybody, with the window open this time….

Anyway, I just finished. Shak's waiting outside…. We'll be Flooing, I think.

Somehow, I knew you'd be in the library. Please stay. I want to tell you all about it.

You're the greatest, Hermione."

Communications Patronuses supposedly could not deliver long range messages (London Auror headquarters was more than 600 kilometres from Hogwarts), but Harry's power, particularly when angry or excited, tended to transcend normal magical limits.

Exhilarated at Harry's exhilaration, Hermione stayed put as he requested.

Harry did not come.

She waited through dinner, growing ever more morose at Harry's absence.

With curfew approaching a distraught and angry Hermione shoved her things in her beaded bag and made for the Heads' Suite. She had Prefect patrolling duty this evening.

Paired with Hannah Abbott, Hermione said little to the well endowed Hufflepuff beyond the minimum necessitated by patrolling. Hermione's thunderous countenance was a clear "No Trespassing" sign.

Their patrol was completely and boringly routine. Hermione had no opportunity to vent her frustrations on unfortunate curfew-breakers.

The Prefect patrol ended at three a.m. By then Hermione had relaxed enough to converse with Hannah on academic topics. As Hermione and Hannah checked in, another team, Geoff Hooper and Zach Smith, were leaving. Those two cackled over catching curfew breakers in a compromising position after noticing intimate apparel slipping through a crack under a door.

Hermione could care less, but Hannah peeked at the log book that recorded disciplinary actions. "Looks like Gryffindor lost some points," she observed smugly. "Ginny leading Harry astray … again. Those two sure looked inseparable all…. Hermione…!"

Feeling like she had been slapped, Hermione turned on her heel and, ignoring Hannah's calls, ran until reaching the Fat Lady. She hurtled up the stairs to the sanctuary of her bed. Ripping the curtains closed, she barely had time to utter an Imperturbable Charm before a torrent of tears came.

Harry had stood her up again - for Ginny, again - without even the decency of notification. She could not believe it! What had happened to Harry? When had he become so cruel?

Hermione cried herself out. As the black night faded to a cold, grey dawn, she sullenly reached pulled out a letter from her headboard. It had bothered her for over a week.

Hermione finally reached a decision. Putting quill to parchment she scratched out a reply to Viktor Krum. Yes - provided she could obtain permission from the Deputy Headmistress (quite likely) - she would meet Viktor in Hogsmeade the day before the big match, as he proposed.

She could not have the man she loved, so she would take a chance with a man who loved her.

* * * *

Harry felt like a low-life scum - a very lucky low life scum.

Hermione had been a great friend and helped him practise for his Defence N.E.W.T. Her methods … it was like she read the examiners' minds. As a result, he was sure he had achieved an Outstanding.

He had promised to discuss the examination with Hermione when he returned. Hermione liked test post-mortems. Ordinarily Harry did not, but he would make an exception.

Ginny had other plans. Ginny's plans prevailed.

One thing led to another - and to a third-storey broom closet.

After the main event, Ginny could not locate an article of clothing she had tosses aside. She used Lumos, and Harry cancelled the goblin Cloaking magic to assist her search.

She noticed something else.

"Harry, what's that shiny thing in your belly button?"

Oops. Harry had good reason for the thirty-plus carats of gemstones in his navel, since the ring was linked to Château Blackwalls security. However, it also had a certain woman's name inscribed - not Ginny's.

The ring was itself protected by goblin Cloaking magic, which Harry usually employed religiously. Something during his N.E.W.T. - involving quite a few unusual spells - must have dislodged it.

Harry did not look forward to explaining. Nor was he a good liar.

"Well … the Château has a security system, and if there's an attack when I'm not there…."

A loud knock interrupted Harry's telling. "Open up. Prefects. We know you're in there."

Harry gave in to the inevitable. "All right, let us get presentable," he stated in a firm voice. A much softer "Ixks," followed, and the telltale ring vanished.

Harry removed the Auror ring that nestled on top and showed it to Ginny. "See, this garnet is charmed to connect to the Château. Now, we can't keep them waiting or we'll lose even more points."

Ginny reluctantly ended her futile search.

Two Prefects greeted them when they emerged - one of them twirling an unmentionable item on the tip of his wand.

* * * *

Learning of Hermione's intent, Ron predictably exploded. The old "fraternising with the enemy" vitriol spewed out. Hermione told him to take a running jump and go straight to hell.

She was sick of Ronald Weasley's endless font of jealousy. This time he objected to Hermione bestowing greater favour on an international Quidditch star who had fancied her for years than on his readiness to ditch his girlfriend the moment Hermione was unexpectedly single.

Ron had been consistently tetchy since she rejected his dubious advance. As if she would betray Luna! She owed Ron nothing, and so informed him in most forceful terms.

Harry was different. He almost seemed remorseful. When she told him Professor McGonagall had permitted her to see Viktor in Hogsmeade, he was apologetic for failing to discuss the N.E.W.T. with her. Ginny had waited for him at the Hogwarts main Floo and proposed nicking food from the kitchens - the elves would never turn them away. One proposition led to another, and before he knew it curfew had passed and their goblin Concealment magic had expired….

Harry teetered on the verge of objecting to her date, but never quite did. Thus she never had the opportunity to tell him to go to hell, too - although a large part of her would have relished the chance. What had he done for her lately, save make her life miserable?

Regardless of anything he uttered during unguarded moments, Harry had unquestionably moved on. Hermione gravely doubted that she could ever truly do the same - at least until Voldemort was defeated and Harry no longer needed her help. Still, she owed it to herself, and to Viktor, to try.

At minimum she owed Viktor the truth. She had treated him very poorly. He had done nothing save honestly express his feelings. She had abruptly ceased their correspondence when she concluded that it contributed to Harry's reluctance to view her as more than a friend. She had put Viktor off, unconvincingly, claiming an age issue.

Viktor was no fool. He had sussed out her reasons - his post humbly requesting to see her again said as much. Even had he not, his timing was obvious. He had respected her injunction against writing until, and only until, the well-publicised collapse of her relationship with Harry.

Or maybe Viktor really was a fool. His letter made his intentions quite plain. He wrote that his stint playing professional Quidditch post-Durmstrang had not eroded his feelings for her one iota. Those feelings led to a marriage proposal marriage when Hermione was only fifteen years old.

Viktor rather resembled Harry - more than either of them would care to admit. Fame and fortune had a price. For both, that price included suspecting the motives of any new potential romantic involvement. Harry responded by hooking up with Ginny, who not only owed him a life debt, but had worshipped him for even longer.

Viktor's letter took a similar approach with Hermione. Ironically, by turning him down flat - twice - she had established her bona fides. Other woman rarely refused his advances.

Viktor also shared something quite profound with Hermione - they both wanted someone out of reach. She had not returned his feelings before and she doubted she could now.

As always Viktor was the perfect gentleman. His date request was tentative and not at all overreaching. He suggested only a late lunch - and their date would occur in a public place, Madame Rosmerta's Hogsmeade dining room.

He and his teammates were staying nearby - in a large private home provided by the Department of Magical Games and Sports. He did not propose any party or a late-night assignation. He would still be in training; their date preceded the big game.

His request was also well timed in a way Viktor could not have known. Hermione dearly needed some distraction from her back-breaking academic routine.

After her precedent-stretching decision to stand for two N.E.W.T.s in her sixth year, Hermione endured one more week of intense work. The final week of classes included a public demonstration of her Charms project, presenting her last progress report to Madam Pomfrey in Healing, and preparation for end-of-term examinations in Potions, Transfiguration, Defence, and Herbology. Only Arithmancy (Professor Vector agreed to give Hermione whatever marks she achieved on her N.E.W.T.) and Magical Creatures (Hagrid did not give sixth-year exams) provided respite.

Viktor provided a much-appreciated hiatus from revising for a few hours.

Hogwarts students rarely ventured into Hogsmeade save on designated weekends - even less often for purely social reasons. But Hermione was no ordinary student, nor was Viktor Krum a run-of-the-mill swain. Hermione departed the Castle slightly before two in the afternoon. Paranoia over recent Death Eater attacks remained high, so Professor McGonagall required Hermione to take Auror Tonks along as a minder. Harry offered a goblin escort, but Hermione declined.

She wore conservative navy robes over a matching Muggle pantsuit - robes acquired as casual wear for Château Blackwalls. Somewhat nervously she patted them down as she and Tonks stepped into a Hogwarts Thestral-drawn carriage.

"Don't worry," Tonks reassured. "It's not like you've never had a date before."

"You're wrong about that," Hermione disagreed. "A date is for getting to know someone. I never…." She almost lost her composure. "Oh, Merlin, I've got to stop, or I'll go to pieces.… Viktor will think I'm pathetic."

"I doubt that," Tonks attempted to console her charge. "If he doesn't appreciate what you've been through, I daresay your first date with him will be your last."

Although constraining her sniffles, Hermione could not help feeling sorry for herself … and for Viktor. Whatever the Bulgarian did, he could achieve no more than second best in her heart. That was unfair to a man like him.

Hermione said little more until they reached Rosmerta's. Hogsmeade was crowded, but not like a student weekend. Rather, it was flush with adult visitors, mostly Hogwarts alumni arriving early for tomorrow's epic challenge match.

Passing a clot of wizards, Hermione spotted a blond man in gaudy black and lemon robes. Ludo Bagman, the former Wimbourne Wasp, was already holding forth on the upcoming match - undoubtedly including his role in it. The department head probably had the attention of every reporter in town. Better him than her, Hermione thought.

Having not considered the number of spectators the match would draw, Hermione was relieved that her carriage rolled past unnoticed. Her fourth-year dalliance with Viktor had drawn considerable publicity - not much positive. She had little stomach for a reprise.

Viktor had promised their date would be confidential. He seemed to have delivered.

Hermione and Tonks disembarked once the carriage stopped at Rosmerta's. The Three Broomsticks looked nothing like it did when catering to a student clientele. The bar was shrunken and the tables enlarged. It was configured as a sit-down restaurant.

"Good luck," Tonks whispered in Hermione's ear as she squeezed her hand. Hermione let the Auror enter first and scope out the surroundings. Tonks altered her appearance until she resembled a young Professor McGonagall. Hermione received the all-clear signal as Tonks had stationed herself inconspicuously at a table near the kitchen entrance, half hidden by a potted plant.

Viktor had yet to arrive.

Hermione chose a table in the opposite corner from Tonks, away from the window and any prying eyes.

A crowd-harried Viktor Krum arrived within five minutes. He wore a military-style cloak drawn tightly despite warm weather. He spotted Hermione, and as he removed his reflective sun glasses, a tentative smile crossed his usually phlegmatic face.

He shook the cloak from his shoulders revealing immaculate formal robes suitable for one of Arthur Weasley's state dinners. To casual observers Viktor appeared suave and sophisticated.

Hermione was an unusually experienced Viktor Krum watcher. Body language betrayed Viktor as being as anxious as when he had proposed - meaning only slightly less sphinx-like than usual.

Hermione's breath caught as she realised that she still made Viktor react that way. Viktor remained an enigma - she never understood what he, one of the most desirable wizards on the continent, saw in her.

Such thoughts disappeared when he reached her table. Viktor clicked his heels and bowed at the waist. "Her-mi-o-nee," he pronounced her name with practiced care.

Flattered by his impeccable central European manners, she rose and offered her hand. "Viktor, how wonderful to see you again after all this time."

He took her hand and gave it a noticeable kiss. "Her-mi-o-nee," he repeated. "The pleasure - is truly all mine."

He sat down in the chair opposite.

As casually as he could, Viktor began an obviously oft-rehearsed speech. "Her-mi-o-nee, it has been almost two years since ve ver last together. I have tried moving on as you advised. I have since seen much of the vizarding vorld, but I have not met anyone who could make me move on. I am more convinced than ever that my first impression vas correct."

Viktor paused, perhaps expecting Hermione to interrupt. He was pleased that she did not - that she took seriously what he had to say. Perhaps he had a chance after all. Obtaining that chance from her would be harder than getting this chance from his new boss.

"So I risked your displeasure by writing. I vas never sure vot I had done to displease you, but I could not stay avay…. If you ver really annoyed, I suppose you vould not be here…."

"Viktor, I'm sure everything you say is true," Hermione got to the point. "But you haven't mentioned Harry. I'm sure you know that I stopped corresponding because of my relationship with him. I'm just as sure that my breakup figured in this meeting. Your timing is pretty obvious to me - as I'm sure mine was to you."

Viktor's nerves showed through his façade. "Und … and you're not angry vit me?"

Hermione was almost as nervous as Viktor, but concealed it less well. "No … no more than you must be angry with me. I assume you want to see if there's still a spark between us."

Her response gave Viktor hope. At least she did not reject him outright. "If my letter vas not clear enough, let me be clear now. Vot you call `spark' has alvays been there for me. I need to know if there is spark now in you."

"That's what I thought, Viktor," Hermione confirmed. "I won't lie. What I had with Harry was intense … very intense. I may never feel like that again, but I came, didn't I?"

What prompted her to conceal her former engagement to Harry, Hermione did not know, but she did. She offered a perfectly rational interpretation that was even partially true. "I'm also two years older, so I'm less intimidated by you than before."

"Hah," Viktor laughed for the first time since entering. "You ver never intimidated by me. That is one reason I vas attracted…."

"I was, too," Hermione maintained. "You were so much older and more famous than I back then. I would have been equally intimidated by Harry…."

She stopped abruptly, leaving the name hanging. If she talked too much about Harry, Viktor might suspect the truth and bail out.

Soon Viktor filled the conversational void. "Potter … feh. Potter could not intimidate you either. Probably the reverse. I told him to his face that he vas a fool."

"What!?" Hermione jerked upright. She had never heard about this. "When did you do that? Why?"

"I vas guest at Beauxbatons ball," Viktor revealed. "Our team vas playing the French. I vent looking for you … to tell you in person vot I said in letter. I saw him and I asked vhere you ver. He vas not happy. He insulted me. I insulted him. In Bulgaria I vould have challenged him to a duel…."

"That would not be a good idea, Viktor," Hermione warned. "Harry is really, really good at duelling."

"Dah," Viktor acknowledged, "I know. And ve ver not in Bulgaria. He should never have treated you like that. He traded down - she looked drunk. Vas stupid - for him. Lucky for me."

"What did Harry say to you?" Hermione asked, not knowing if she would like the answer.

"He told me that I vas the fool," Viktor almost growled. "You obviously told him about my proposal. He told me that your answer vould still be no."

Hermione was incensed. Harry might well be right. She was certainly not planning marriage anytime soon. But Harry had no right to say that. "He … he was being a jerk," she said coldly. "He has no more right to presume anything about me."

Viktor was unhappy to see Hermione's anger rise, even directed elsewhere. He knew that his life, and hers, depended on her reaction to what he next had to do. He hoped she could forgive. "Umm … Her-Mi-o-Nee, I…. Vell, vhen you accepted, I began thinking…. Vot I'm trying to say…."

"Viktor … don't be too presumptuous," Hermione admonished, worried that he would strike well before the iron was hot.

Viktor grunted and decided to tell her straight away. "I have something for you."

Hermione's breath hitched as he reached into his robes. Surely, he was not so stupid as to propose again, then and there. She was relieved when he removed a box shaped more like a wand. Its wine-coloured velvet exterior screamed "jewellery," but at least not a ring.

"Viktor, I hope you weren't extravagant," Hermione cautioned. "You know me better than that."

"Don't vorry, Her-mi-o-nee," Viktor answered softly. "I vould not insult you by trying to buy you. Is more sentimental than valuable."

Hermione accepted the proffered container. Opening it she smiled. "Why that's a Snitch. You made me a necklace from a Golden Snitch. How very … Viktor … of you."

"Is the Snitch that I caught ven ve lost the Vorld Cup two years ago," Viktor sprung his surprise.

Hermione's hand went to her bosom. "Oh, Viktor, I couldn't possibly take this, it's too important…."

"You can," Viktor's strong voice talked over her. "I vill play for the Cup again. I vill catch another Snitch and vin next time. This is for you. You are more important right now…. Maybe someday I catch you, too…?"

"We'll see about that," she coyly parried his last remark.

"Dah, ve'll see," Viktor echoed. "Vould you….? Vould you like to try it on?"

Hermione blushed. While it was probably inappropriate to attend tomorrow's match wearing such a bauble - considering the source - she saw no harm in wearing it here. "Why … yes, I think so."

Viktor stood and walked around the table to stand beside her. He reached down and grasped the necklace, letting the Snitch hang free. "Please lift your hair, Her-mi-o-nee," he requested. She did. He moved behind her and brought his other hand around.

Hermione wondered if she should be feeling all tingly. Had Harry been holding her, she would have. All she felt was a chill from the wings of the Snitch vibrating against the skin of her neck.

"That tickles," she half-complained as she reached up to reposition the snitch.

"Oh…!"

Hermione felt a tug behind her navel as she vanished into thin air.

Viktor followed immediately; a loud BANG heralding his hasty Disapparation.

"What in Hades!?!" Tonks screamed as she lunged from her hidey-hole, wand drawn. She caught her foot on the table leg, went sprawling, and toppled the table and two chairs.

Once Tonks extracted herself, it was far too late for pursuit Apparition. Hermione Granger and Viktor Krum had vanished to points unknown.

* * * *

Author's notes:

Note Harry's changing locations

Dawn's early light is from the "Star Spangled Banner"

By legend King Cnut ("Canute") unsuccessfully ordered the tide to halt

Hermione's suicidal phase was described in Ch. 7

"Undisclosed location" was a Cheney favorite

The altered Horcrux happened in Ch. 54

Exmoor is on the Bristol Channel, which has the largest tides in Britain

The flesh blood and bone that resurrected Voldemort were all male, so I made the converse true

The alternative prophecy was mentioned in Ch 42

Mensong conducted Hermione's cross-examination in Ch. 31

Voldemort is right about the Gaunt property

Hitler also believed in a lucky star

Voldemort used a black shag to deliver his message to Malfoy in Ch. 35

Hermione and Luna first visited L.O.S.S. in Ch. 33; it hasn't changed much

The notion of drowning oneself in the lake comes from Pandiesboxx's sadly unfinished "All Roads Lead Back"

Hermione's dream is, of course, the movie version of the Epilogue

The destruction of County Hall Island occurred in Ch. 44

My law school's examination booklets had sky blue covers

The Golden Mean (≈1.62) is also generated by the Fibonacci sequence Hermione used to find the secret chamber in Ch. 64; it has numerous practical and mystical connotations

Spiral patterns calculate more simply in polar coordinates

Hermione used a spiral search pattern when looking for Harry in Ch. 35

The difference between true and magnetic north in Scotland is accurate

Hermione discovered the comet in Ch. 43

Dreams/nightmares, burnt out confusion, gates of life closed - all from "Sabbath Bloody Sabbath by Black Sabbath

Cold gray dawn is from the Rolling Stones' "Shine a Light"

Hermione's decision to cease writing to Viktor occurred in Ch. 7

As discussed in Ch. 46, Harry proposed to Hermione without ever dating her

58

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