Lethe's Lament

Lethe's Lament

A single soft shadow swirled in shining silver, faint as summer shade, silent as winter snow; it writhed far beneath the shimmering surface, like the glimmer of gold beneath a river's bright ripples. A desperate need clawed its way up his throat like a fistful of razors, his heart seized beneath his ribs and a fierce heat stung at his eyes.

What is that? He tried to crush it all away into the dark and focus on the shadow, but the deeper he stared into that faint twisting shade, the further through him the storm of emotion tore. What is this feeling?

'Back again, Harry?' Dumbledore's question drifted over his shoulder. 'If you don't mind me asking, what do you see in there to bring you back night after night?'

The shadow faded into smooth, still silver.

Harry tore his eyes away. 'Nothing.'

Dumbledore stepped alongside him and rested a hand on Harry's shoulder. 'It doesn't do to dwell on dreams, Harry. Don't forget to live.'

Shadow flickered through the silver, as fleeting a darkness as a wisp of cloud passing across the face of the sun.

Harry glanced up into Dumbledore's bright blue eyes. 'Can't we live our dreams, Professor?'

'It depends on the dream.' A soft sigh escaped Dumbledore's lips. 'Your classmate, Miss Granger, might look into that mirror and see herself six years older and head girl. That wish might well come true should she continue to excel. Others may see the family we've lost, but no amount of hard work or brilliance will bring them back. That dream is beyond reach and chasing it is but bittersweet torment.'

Perfect wishes don't come true. A faint twinge tugged at Harry's temples and the surface of the mirror fell still and calm as a sheet of polished steel. The echo of that fierce need tolled a soft, hollow knell in his chest. But there was something… There is something…

'Back to bed, Harry.' Dumbledore bent and plucked Harry's cloak from the floor. 'Try not to come back here again. Some of the less wise among us have dreamt entire lifetimes away in front of that mirror. I shall move it somewhere else soon.'

Harry caught the smooth silk of the cloak in his arms. 'Sorry, Professor.'

'Even the greatest of us can be ensnared by dreams, my boy.' Dumbledore patted him on the shoulder with one wizened hand. 'And like a dream, when you tear your gaze from the mirror, the memory of it fades just enough to drive you to look once more. It can be hard, but try not to look again, Harry.'

But I have to come back. I have to know what it is. The hollow at the centre of Harry's heart smouldered, bursting into flame, and the shadow in the mirror flickered and danced as if cast by candlelight. I need it.

Lethe's Lament

The hovering candle flames danced beneath a calm, deep blue ceiling and Professor Quirrell slumped into a pool of dark robes on the floor with a quiet sigh.

A troll? Harry watched the candles flicker above as students streamed from the hall in cacophonous gaggles. Maybe something's happening? The feeling returned, swirling in his chest just as the shadow had whirled beneath the silver mirror's surface; its knell rang through him with each beat of his heart. Maybe it's something important.

He slipped away from the throng and waited until the drum of feet faded.

The second floor corridor loomed open before him and a strange thrill crept through his veins, tingling in his blood. A faint, foul stench reached his nose, thickening into a raw, rotten reek. Whatever it is, I'll find it. Mirror or no.

Faint sobs echoed down the hall.

Harry slipped his wand from his sleeve and glanced through the open door into the girls' bathroom. White tiles, sinks, and gleaming mirrors sat across from neat cubicles and a red-eyed Hermione Granger slumped over one of the basins. Tears rolled down the cheeks of her reflection and dripped into the sink.

Is she part of it? He wrestled with the smouldering need and eyed the girls' bathroom sign, then edged into the room. She might be.

A shrill scream tore from Hermione's throat. He twisted 'round.

A hulking mass of grey and green loomed in the doorway. A branch the size of a small tree scraped along the bathroom tiles as the troll blundered in, slobbering and sniffing the air.

That's not ideal. Harry backed away and eyed the thin sliver of the doorway behind it.

The troll rumbled and twisted 'round, demolishing a pair of sinks with its elbow. Porcelain shards skittered across the tiles.

The hollow feel echoed through him like the tolling of a great bell. I can't leave, though. If I leave, I might never know.

Hermione screwed her eyes shut and shrunk into the corner, screaming so loud Harry's ears rang. The troll clapped a massive hand to its temple and shook its head, roaring and swinging its club. The piece of tree whistled over Harry's head, smashing into the mirrors and sinks. Bits of glass sprayed across the floor.

Pain flashed across the back of his hand and crimson welled up from a thin red line across his skin. The bathroom, Hermione, the troll and everything around him shrank away into the distance.

Blood…

The excitement surged. A coil of raw, fierce energy snapped taut within him and his wand flashed up; the half-familiar weight of a word hung on the tip of his tongue.

The troll rumbled and tugged its club free of the wall, scattering bits of plaster across the floor.

Harry's magic leapt forward and brilliant white light flashed from the tip of his dark wand. Hot red sprayed his face and the white tiles and crimson chunks splattered down around his feet. The lower half of the troll thudded onto the tiles, twitching, spasming and smoking.

Hermione stumbled to her feet with a strangled squeak. 'What was that?!'

He stared down at his reflection in the spreading red pool, then wiped troll blood off the smooth ebony of his wand and slipped it back into his sleeve. The thrill trickled away like water through his fingers. That wasn't it. It wasn't enough. It wasn't—

A low rumble echoed through the bathroom and pale plaster dust floated down around his shoulders, settling on his eyelashes like snow. White tiles showered down to shatter at his feet and a low, deep groan rippled through the castle. A head-sized chunk of stone smashed into the floor by his foot. A second tore through the wall of the cubicle behind him.

'Harry!' Hermione screamed.

He glanced up into a hail of stone. 'Oops.'

Lethe's Lament

A faint, fading shade swirled beneath the shimmering silver, dancing like heat haze above a ribbon of tarmac. Harry pressed his fingers to the glass and watched the darkness writhe just beyond his reach.

What is that? He pushed his fingertips into the glass until they turned white and his nails bent. A slight pain throbbed against the cold silver surface and a soft, insistent need tugged at his heart. What's my dream?

The shadow faded away into smooth, gleaming glass.

Gone again. Desperate desire clamped its fist 'round his heart and raw, thick, hot emotion bubbled up onto his tongue. But not really gone. Harry pounded the heel of his hand against the glass until the yearning eased and he could breathe again. Just out of reach.

He let his arm drop back to his side and tore his eyes away. 'I'll find it. Somewhere. Somehow.' Harry swallowed hard and turned his back on the Mirror of Erised. 'Whatever it is.'

The faint echo of the Great Hall's dinnertime clamour drifted to his ears from a world away. He turned about and wandered the corridors instead.

Maybe if I explore, I'll find something. Soft excitement seized him. Something important.

Harry ran his fingertips along the tapestries, following the wall down twisting corridors past countless portraits until he found himself on the steps to the library. 'Might as well,' he murmured, drifting upward.

A handful of quiet students flitted among the bookshelves and filled the half dozen tables. He roved past them and through the lines of books, running his fingers over their spines.

Magical Creatures… Hippogriffs. Griffons. Grindylows... A faint tug drew at his heart, as if a slim red string was hooked beneath his ribs, and he continued down the row. Thestrals. Thunderbirds. Magical Toads. Trolls. Unicorns. Valcore. Vampires. Harry traced the backs of a dozen books. A lot of vampires.

'Harry!' Hermione's head poked out from behind one of the shelves. 'I didn't realise you liked the library as well?'

'I don't, really,' he said, turning back to the shelf. 'Vampyr Mosp. Vampyr Moth. Vampyr Wasp.'

Hermione bounded over, clutching a book on trolls. 'I don't know why there are so many vampiric creatures, or why we're allowed to read about them at the age of eleven.'

'Could be worse.' Harry scowled as the little tug inside his chest began to fade and stepped past a gap half a dozen books wide.

She bobbed her head, bumping her chin against the edge of her huge book. 'The next ones are worse. They're all pictures of naked ladies and barely any writing.'

A sharp twinge bit at Harry's temple. 'Wampus cat?' He poked the spine of the next book.

Hermione shot him an odd look. 'I — er — I wanted to thank you, Harry, for saving me from the troll.' Her voice dropped to a low whisper, a pink glow crept onto her cheeks and her grip tightened on her book. 'Would — would you be my friend? I can help you with things. Spells? Notes? Whatever you need!'

Harry glanced into her bright hazel eyes, a soft sadness settling into him like a damp autumn chill. It drew back the strange yearning like the tip of a tongue creeping back to poke at the seat of a missing tooth. Maybe she can help me.

'Of course,' he said.

Hermione beamed and stuck out her hand. Her book slipped out from under her arm and Harry pulled his wand from his sleeve as she grabbed after the tome. The book thudded to the floor and Hermione's fingers closed 'round his wand.

'Sorry, Harry.' She stared at the slim piece of ebony in her fingers and a little shiver swept through her. 'I didn't mean to...'

A faint ache throbbed in his temples and a lightness seized him. The distance to the floor yawned open like an abyss and the bookshelves rippled like reflections in a pool of water. A bright glimmer hovered in Hermione's eyes, fading like the embers of a fire.

Soft, hot triumph flared within his breast.

Where did that come from? Harry squeezed his eyelids shut, but found the shadow within the Mirror of Erised dancing behind them. It's to do with that something, isn't it? As always. A gentle throb sprang up at the base of his skull and he touched his fingertips to the back of his head with a grimace.

'Harry?' Hermione let go of his wand and picked up her tome on trolls. 'Are you ok?'

He dropped his hand back to his side and gave her a small smile. 'I'm fine.'

Hermione's bright smile reappeared, a flash of white teeth and pink cheeks. 'What do you need help with?'

'I don't know.' He leant his head to one side. 'But I'll find out what that something is.'

I have to. It's something important.*

Red, gold, green and blue birds bedecked faded tapestries all along the walls. Long-maned wizards with white ruffs and stark, dark robes stared down at him from the walls and muttered, flitting between the frames.

'Harry. Harry!' Hermione hissed. 'We're not meant to be here. It's against the rules.'

He paused and leant against the soft thread of the nearest tapestry. 'Why?'

Hermione stomped after him. 'Weren't you listening to what Professor Dumbledore said?'

Dumbledore? Harry wracked his brain, but only the gentle weight of a hand upon his shoulder and the twisting shadow amidst shining silver welled up. Something about dreams.

'I don't remember.' He shrugged. 'I probably won't listen, either.'

She huffed. 'The third floor corridor is out of bounds.'

To those who don't want to suffer a painful death. Harry mulled it over, a bright, sharp thrill of excitement shooting through him. That means something must be going on. The yearning bubbled back up and clamped its fist about his heart. Something important.

'What do you think's going on?' he asked.

Hermione threw her hands in the air. 'I don't know! Professor Dumbledore didn't say!'

Harry straightened up and glanced at the smooth, dark wood of the door he'd been leaning on. 'Let's go explore, then.'

'What?' Hermione blinked, rubbed her eyes, and poked the door with her foot. 'Must be a magic door,' she muttered.

Harry twisted the latch, but the knob stayed stuck fast. 'Locked…' He slipped his wand from his sleeve as Hermione fretted and chewed her lip, levelling it at the door and struggling for the word hovering just off the tip of his tongue.

'Alohomora,' Hermione whispered, jabbing her wand at the door.

Harry tucked his wand away and twisted the knob. It turned with a soft rattle and a squeak and a low rumble sounded on the far side. His heart began to pound, his blood raced, singing through his veins, and the world sharpened and brightened around him.

Alive. I feel alive. He took a deep, trembling breath to taste the cool rush and let the need claw its way up inside. Maybe this is it. Harry tugged the door open and stepped in.

A snarl reverberated through him and all four walls, so loud his ears rang, and six glowing, yellow eyes fixed themselves upon him.

'Interesting.' Harry drew a circle of purple flame in the air with the tip of his wand.

A vast, three-headed figure loomed over them. Lolling tongues drooled thick trails of saliva down onto a broad wooden trapdoor, jagged, discoloured fangs gleamed in the flickering indigo flame and a low rumble echoed deep in the beast's chest.

Harry's heart hammered against his ribs and the cold shock of adrenaline flooded through his veins. Yes. This is it. Something's going to happen.

Hermione shrieked and hauled him back out the door by the back of his robes. Footsteps echoed from the far end of the corridor and she darted away toward the stairs, still dragging him by his robes.

It was right there! His heart settled back to a solemn beat and the thrill drained from him. And now it's gone.

Harry ripped himself free of Hermione's grip and whirled on her. 'What did you do that for?!'

She flinched. 'I just—'

'I was so close!'

'So close to what?' She crossed her arms. 'Getting eaten?

'No.' Harry released a long sigh and groped for the feeling, but it slipped away like smoke through his fingers. 'It doesn't matter. You won't understand.'

Hermione peered up at him and shuffled her feet. 'Is it important?'

'Yes.' The desperate need clawed its way up into his throat, a fistful of razors so sharp his eyes stung with hot tears. 'Yes. There's something I have to find, only, I don't know what it is…'

It's just a feeling.

'Then I'll help.' She drew herself up. 'You're my first friend and I'll help you, like how you helped me.'

There was a trapdoor down there. I saw it. That means there's something underneath. Maybe it's there.

The thrill trickled through his veins, a brief, bright flutter of cool. 'Then we'll go back?' His heart picked up its beat.

Hermione swallowed, giving Harry a weak smile. 'Yes,' she whispered, pale-faced and trembling. 'If you need to go back, then we'll go back.'

Lethe's Lament

The smooth dark wood loomed between colourful tapestries; the light from the corridor seemed to vanish into it, goading Hermione's heart to dash itself against her ribs.

It's just a small door and a big dog. She bit at her lip and wiped her palms dry on her robes. You've read all about it. You know what to do.

'Ready?' A bright gleam hovered in Harry's eyes. He thrummed with energy, shifting his weight from one foot to the other and tapping his fingers in a swift, erratic rhythm on his wand.

We must be mad. Hermione's wand tip trembled before the lock. Folie à deux.

'Ready,' she whispered. 'Alohomora.'

Three pairs of yellow eyes opened in the dark with a low rumble. The walls of the castle trembled and shook at the snarl that ripped its way from the cerberus, and the scent of wet dog settled over her, thick enough to taste on her tongue. Harry slipped his wand from his sleeve and cast soft, white light from its tip. The vast, shaggy-haired beast bared its yellow fangs and tensed.

Music. Sing. Hermione tried to take a deep breath but the air got stuck in her throat. What do I sing?

'Frère Jacques,' she squeaked. 'Frère Jacques—'

The cerberus's growl softened, but still shook the room. Faint wrinkles creased Harry's brow as he extended his wand; a distant, quizzical gleam appeared in his eye as he stared at the ring of steel atop the trapdoor in the floor.

'Dormez-vous.' Hermione fought the tremble in her voice and stole a quick breath. 'Dormez—'

Stone spikes thrust from the walls at either side of the cerberus. Hot, wet drops sprayed over Hermione's face and robes and spattered the floor. Cold flooded her veins and sent the world spinning 'round. Harry flicked his wand and the spears slid back into the wall, ripping apart the cerberus's corpse. A thick, steaming pool of red spread to lap at Hermione's toes and a slick, copper tang choked her mouth and nose.

'Why?' The word slipped out as less than a whisper. 'I was singing. It would've fallen asleep!'

'Singing?' Harry's gaze bored into the trapdoor like he was trying to burn a hole through it with his eyes. 'I didn't hear.'

Hermione took a deep breath and gagged on the thick metallic reek. Her stomach surged and she bolted out into the corridor to hurl a bitter rush of vomit between the feet of a suit of armour.

What's happening?

The world swam.

This can't be real. There's no way anyone our age could do that. Hermione clamped her eyes shut and held her breath. When I open my eyes, this will all be gone.

The acrid, bitter reek of her vomit stung her nose and the dried blood cracked on her skin as she relaxed her face.

It's not going to be gone. Panic lanced through her. Her heart wrenched and began to pound. I said I'd come with him, but I'm out here…

'Harry?' She whispered.

'I'm here, Hermione.' His voice drifted from the dark beyond the thin stream of crimson trickling out beneath the door.

Hermione bit her lip and pushed the door open, sending little ripples through the blood. 'Are you—'

'I'm going down.' Harry stood over the open trapdoor, his green eyes burning with a wild, fierce light. 'It's down here. I can feel it. I know it is.'

Hermione gulped and glanced at the sprawled mass of blood-soaked hair, gleaming wet flesh and bright white bone. 'What if — what if there's more things down there?'

He stared down into the dark. 'It's down there, so I have to go down there.'

'But — but if you go down there you could die.'

Harry tore his gaze away from the trapdoor. His eyes shone like rings of emerald flame. 'And if I don't, I won't ever find it.' He cocked his head. 'You can stay behind, Hermione. I probably don't need you to come with me.'

She flinched from the sting of his words and wrestled with fear's cold grasp upon her soul. 'I'm coming.' The words slipped from her lips. 'I can't let you go down there alone.'

A small smile crooked Harry's lips. 'Thanks, Hermione.' His smile spread into a bright, excited gleam of white teeth, then he closed his eyes and stepped off the edge.

She tip-toed through the blood to the edge of the trapdoor. Red poured down into a thick, still black hanging like a sea of ink.

'Folie à deux,' she murmured. 'Madness shared with me.'

If Harry can save you from a troll, you can help him. Hermione clutched her wand to her chest, teetering on the edge, and stepped forward.

The bottom dropped out of her stomach and the air rushed past as she plunged into the dark. She thudded into something soft and cool, rolling to a stop on her hands and knees.

Where's Harry? Hermione's heart faded back to a steady rhythm. Did he not wait?

Something curled 'round her left ankle and tugged her to the ground. A scream burst from her lips and the floor grazed her chin as she scrabbled for purchase on cold stone. More things curled around her arms, her waist and her right thigh; she wriggled and kicked, but their grip tightened, pulling her legs too taut to move. They dragged her backward flagstone by flagstone, ripping her desperate fingers from each line of mortar, tearing her nails and leaving red smears on the stone.

'Harry!' She shrieked. 'Harry!'

A flicker of red light appeared in the corner of her eye and searing heat washed over her. The things tightened, shuddered, and loosened. Hermione tore her way free.

He saved me again. She scrambled away toward a familiar shadow amidst the roiling red fire. He really doesn't need me.

The remnants of a dark-vined plant writhed and burnt around Harry's feet. Pools of cherry-red flame flickered and danced, eating into the stone.

'What kind of spell is that?' Hermione blurted.

Harry stared at the fire, then glanced at the tip of his wand. 'A fire spell.'

How does he know a spell like that? Even I've no idea.

'What was the incantation?' she asked.

Harry slashed his wand at the flames and watched them gutter out. 'I didn't use one.' Ice crept into his eyes and his knuckles turned white around his slim ebony wand. 'It was just in the way.'

Non-verbal? Hermione blinked. We're years away from learning that! Why does he want to be my friend if he's so much better than me?

'Devil's snare,' she muttered. 'Any kind of light or heat would've stopped it.'

'Well, it's stopped now.' He scuffed his foot through the ashes and a bright smile crept onto his face. 'You know, I'm not sure if I want to rush right to the finding, or savour the feeling as it grows stronger!' A little shiver rippled through him. 'It's exciting!'

He's like a dog chasing its tail. Hermione watched him spin his wand in his hand, shifting his balance back and forth like he didn't know which way to go. Her gaze slipped down to the warped stone and ash. What will he do if he can't catch it?

'If we're going, we should go.' She stumbled to the door, shoving it open with her shoulder. 'Let's see what's next, Harry.'

Two rows of stark black and white figures lined a chequer-floored hall. Blank, empty faces stared back from the dark pieces opposite them.

Chess... She frowned. I don't really like chess.

Harry squeezed through the gaps between the white pieces and darted up into the centre of the board. 'Do we play each other?' He spun 'round on his heel. 'Do we have to play at all?'

The white pawn in the row he stood in crumbled to dust and the black knight slid out to face him.

'So we play them.' His wand slipped out of his sleeve. 'It's a puzzle!'

Hermione stared up at him, watching him move the white chess pieces about with his wand like a conductor's baton in a frenetic rumble. No. You're not chasing your own tail. There's too much direction, too much purpose. Chunks of white stone bounced across the board as Harry's bishop shattered beneath the blow of the black queen like a dropped flowerpot. This thing you're trying to find. It's a puzzle. It's every puzzle. Because you don't know which puzzle it is. A small smile sprang onto her lips and a warm glow rushed through her. Maybe I can help. I'm good at puzzles.

Mounds of white rubble covered the board and dust hung in the air, and the thick stone-must tickled her nose. Twice as many dark pieces surrounded a dwindling number of white ones.

Harry's bright smile faded into a dark, frustrated scowl. 'I just need to go through the door!' His fingers tightened around his wand and stabbed it forward at the black queen. 'Why does everything have to get in the way?!'

The white rook rumbled forward and obliterated a dark knight, sending chunks of stone skittering across the board. The black bishop slid back and shattered the white rook into pieces.

'Harry!' Hermione jumped up onto the board, scanning the pieces. 'You need to take your time!'

'Take my time,' Harry echoed, his green eyes as hard and cold as the glass of Hermione's bedroom window in winter. 'This is a waste of time.' He whirled 'round and thrust his wand at the chess pieces. 'I hate it!'

A wave of fierce, red flame exploded from his wand in a flash of overwhelming heat. It bubbled over the white pieces, melting them into steaming piles of lava, then curved back 'round him and swept through the dark ones, stripping the stone from the floor and spattering the wall with molten rock.

Hermione buried her face in her arm and peered through her fingers.

Harry's shadow loomed at the centre of the swirling red fire, arms spread and wand raised like a conductor's baton. His delighted laugh rang out as the flames coalesced together and hammered into the small door on the far side of the room. 'No more obstacles!'

He doesn't need me at all. The thought hung on Hermione's heart like a lead weight. He doesn't even need to solve puzzles, not with magic like that.

The door melted away like butter in a pan and Harry forced the flames through. Molten stone wept from the walls and trickled out across the floor.

'Coming?' He turned to her with a broad, bright grin on his smoke-streaked face and extended his hand; an inferno of crimson fire whirled beyond the doorway behind him. 'Hermione?'

He still wants me to come with him. Her heart leapt into her mouth and tears sprang to her eyes. It doesn't matter to him. I'm not here to help. He — he just likes me.

She grabbed his hand and clung to it as he led her on toward the vortex of flame.

Harry swept his wand at the fire and it faded out around their feet. 'I guess whatever was in here won't be getting in my way.'

A faint reek coiled to Hermione's nose beneath the sweet heat of the fire and hot stone, the slick stink of raw sewage. 'Urgh.' She scrunched up her face and pressed a hand over her nose. 'Let's keep going.'

Harry kicked the next door open and stepped through, pulling her after him.

A flock of bright-feathered, gleaming bronze keys flitted overhead between bare stone walls and a single broom lay on the flagstones at the room's centre.

'I guess we need to catch the right one.' Hermione watched them zip back and forth like a cloud of birds before the sun. 'How do we know which one it is?'

'We don't.' Harry tracked their swirling and took a long, deep breath. A darkness rose in his eyes and his hand fell from hers. 'Why does everything have to get in the way…'

Hermione eyed the broom and swallowed a stab of fear, putting a hand on his shoulder. 'I'll fly up and catch them. You just wait here for a moment, Harry.'

The darkness lifted from his eyes, then his jaw clenched. 'No. I don't want to wait.' A little tremble shivered through him. 'I want to feel it now.' Harry pointed his wand up, twisting it like it were a knife.

Feathers rained down around them like fallen leaves.

Harry caught a pearl-white one on his palm and held it up between his thumb and forefinger as bronze keys clattered down about their feet. A faint frown creased his brow, then he winced and dropped the feather to press his fingertips to his temples.

'Are you okay?' Hermione asked. 'Are these spells really tiring to cast?'

'I'm fine.' The bright, broad smile spread across his face and he thrust out his hand. 'I think we're getting close. I can feel it.'

The keys zoomed from the floor into his fist.

Wandless magic… Hermione pinched her thigh, wincing at the flash of pain. How?

Harry weighed them on his palm, then plucked a large old bronze key out and let the others go. They bounced off Hermione's shoes and skittered across the floor.

'You're sure?' She glanced between the key in Harry's hand and the lock. 'Why that one?'

He stared at it with a small frown, then bounced it in his palm. 'It feels right.'

None of this feels right.

Harry thrust the key in the lock and twisted, shoving the door open with his forearm and striding through. Hermione darted after him.

Black and purple flames sprang up behind and before her.

We're trapped.

'Another obstacle.' Harry stood before an array of bottles, clutching a piece of paper. 'This isn't magic — it's logic — a puzzle.'

Hermione studied the flames. Their heat bathed her face like the scorching summer sun bathed her parents' garden.

This time, I can help.

'Let me help.' She tugged the piece of parchment from his grip and scanned it. 'It's not immediately obvious.'

Hermione skimmed the writing, glancing back and forth between the hints and bottles. The red and black ones can't be poison and must be the same, so they're full of nettle wine. Which means the white and green ones are poison. That just leaves the last three.

Harry reached out and plucked the purple and blue bottles from the row. 'The blue one will take me forward. The purple one's useless.'

The purple one will take us back. She frowned at the small bottle. If there's enough.

'But there's only enough for one,' Hermione murmured. 'Only one of us can go through.''

Harry handed her the purple bottle. 'You can go back, if you want.'

'And do what?' She shook her head. 'How am I meant to help if I'm not here when you need me?'

A strange little glint welled up in Harry's eyes. 'You really want to come with me?'

The indigo and ebony flames crackled on either side of them and Hermione's heart rose up into her mouth. 'I go where you go.'

His bright green eyes bored into her, cold and hard as ice. 'Even if I don't need you, Hermione?'

'You wanted me to come, right?' she whispered, swallowing a lump in her throat and blinking back tears. 'Even though you don't need me for spells, or magic, or anything.' Words spilt off her tongue before she could stop them. 'You just wanted someone. You — you stuck out your hand...'

Something softened in Harry's expression and he stared down at his palm. 'I did… I felt...'

'Harry?' She weighed the little purple bottle in her hand. 'Are you alright?'

'For a moment, I really didn't want to go through there alone.' He plucked the potion from her hand and tossed it away to smash on the floor, pressing the blue bottle into her hand. 'So I won't. Drink it.'

Hermione tugged the stopper out and gulped a single mouthful of ice down.

'Step through.' Harry held out his hand. 'Come on.'

'But you…'

'I'll be fine.' A fierce little glint lit up in his eye. 'I have to go through, even if it burns.'

This isn't something important, this is an obsession. And I can't stop him. She stared into the flames and tried not to picture him burning. He was fine before. Maybe he'll be fine now.

Harry stepped into the flames and tugged her after him.

Hermione staggered out before a tall, bronze-framed mirror. Harry tore the burning parts of his robe away and patted the flames down. Raw patches of red wept upon his feet and legs, but as she watched, the flesh crept back and they faded back to smooth skin.

'I found it,' he breathed, reaching out and touching his fingertips to the glass. 'There it is.'

Hermione stared past him into the glass. Her reflection stared back from beside Harry, whispering in his ear as she drew her hand from her pocket. The wild gleam and the mad excitement faded from Harry's eyes as he turned to look at her. A bright red stone shone through her fingers and a small, warm smile spread across his lips.

That must be what he needs. And I found it. I helped him.

A weight appeared on her palm.

Hermione tore her gaze away and stared down at the red stone in her hand. 'Harry…'

'The Philosopher's Stone.' He took it from her hand and sighed. A great darkness rose up in his eyes to swallow him. 'It's just a rock to me.' He stuck it in his pocket. 'The mirror only shows me a shadow… But it's still out there somewhere. I can feel it.'

'Oh…' Tears sprang to her eyes. 'I thought — I thought I helped.' She blinked the tears away. 'It's okay. Next time. Next time we'll find it, ok, Harry?'

'It's okay,' Harry murmured, pressing his fingertips into his temple so hard they turned white. 'The more it hurts to have, the more satisfying it'll be to get it.'

Lethe's Lament

A faint red glow covered Harry's blank sheet of parchment and spiralled across the desk onto Hermione's neat classwork. He watched the red-tinted sunlight swirl as if the stone were full of a thousand glowing motes of dust.

'Harry,' Hermione hissed. 'Stop using it as a paper weight!'

He glanced up at Quirrell, who was staring at him like he'd just seen the sun for the first time. 'It was unbalancing my pockets.'

'It's a legendary magical artefact,' she whispered. 'You should really give it to someone like Professor Dumbledore. I don't even know why it was down there!'

'Why does he get a free paperweight?' Harry asked. 'He probably doesn't even do any writing.'

Hermione huffed. 'Neither do you.' She snatched the rock off the desk and stuffed it back into the pocket of his robes. 'You never do any work. Ever.'

'I don't want to.' A faint stab of yearning pierced him. 'I want—'

'I know.' Hermione's warm hand rested over his. 'We'll find it.'

Maybe I should go back to see the mirror. That might help. The shadow dancing in the shimmering silver tugged at his thoughts and it all bubbled back up. Heat prickled in his eyes and a fierce thicket of emotion coiled 'round his heart. What is that? What is it!?

'Harry…' Hermione murmured. 'You're crying.'

He touched his fingertips to his cheek; they came away warm and wet. A sparkling drop clung to his middle finger, then splashed onto the desk.

She clasped his hand between hers. 'Are you — are you, okay?'

'I don't know.' He blinked the tears away and smeared his cheeks dry. 'But I'm going to find whatever it is. I saw its shadow. I saw it in the mirror.' The darkness danced before the eye of his mind like a candle flame and the walls of the classroom closed in about him like the bars of a cage. 'I — I'm leaving.' He staggered to his feet and stumbled out.

'Mr Potter!' Quirrell's cries echoed down the corridor after him, then up the stairs as he rose higher and higher. 'Mr Potter!'

Harry wrestled with the wrenching ache, following its tug past a tapestry of tap-dancing trolls, and pacing back and forth in the corridor. I need — I need — I need to find this. I need to find it. I can't bear it.

A plain wooden door opened up in the stone.

'A door…' The yearning dulled and a soft shock of excitement rippled through him. 'Is this it?' He wrenched it open and stumbled down a slope onto his knees.

Empty stone curved up away on all sides. A hollow orb of black and white-barred marble with his feet at its heart.

This isn't it. The need clawed its way up within his chest. This is just some stupid magic room.

Harry scrambled up the slope and back out.

Quirrell stood in the corridor, unwinding his turban. 'Mr Potter… I don't know how you got that stone, but you're going to hand it over to me. Now.'

Harry pulled the red rock from his pocket as he struggled with the cage of thorns closing 'round his heart. Their points cut a deep, sweet, sharp pain right through the core of him. 'Is it important?'

'Very.'

Maybe I should keep it, then. He stuffed it back into his pocket and tried to smother the swirling storm of feeling. Just in case.

Quirrell hissed and raised his wand. 'Avada kedavra.'

Harry's wand slipped from his sleeve, a black butterfly swallowing the flash of green light. The weight of a word hung on the tip of his tongue as Quirrell recoiled, wide-eyed. 'Fulminis.'

A white flash seared Harry's eyes.

He blinked away the green spots.

Little flecks of ash floated to the floor around him.

Dead. Harry's heart settled back to a steady rhythm and the yearning ebbed, fading back to a distant, dull ache beneath his ribs. Very dead.

He closed his eyes and let the quiet wash over him.

'Your mother's love saved you, Harry.' Dumbledore's voice drifted to his ear. 'Her willing sacrifice, her love, is a powerful magic that protects you.'

A sharp twinge ripped through Harry's head and he snapped his eyes open.

Dumbledore's bright blue eyes and long white beard hovered before a row of hospital beds. 'Are you okay, my boy?'

'I'm fine.' He thrust a hand into his pocket. 'The stone…'

'I've returned it to its rightful owner.' Dumbledore sighed. 'They have, given the danger, decided to destroy it and move on.'

A twist of fear seized Harry. 'I hope it wasn't important.'

'To the well-adjusted mind, my boy, it was little more than temptation.' Dumbledore smoothed out his beard. 'One of those dreams better not dwelt on, I think.'

Dreams… Harry's mind swam with swirling shadows and dancing dark. Dreams are all we have.

'If you say so, professor.' He closed his eyes. 'If you say so.'

A loud crack tore through the room.

'Great Harry Potter, sir!' Bright, bulging green eyes appeared in the dark.

Cold shock coursed through Harry and his wand snapped up. A bright flash of white light spattered red all over the room and ripped through the walls, leaving him beneath a cloud of orange brick dust.

What? He squeezed his eyes shut and reopened them.

Hermione pressed her hands against worn, chipped orange bricks, breathing a mile a minute. 'It's not here!'

'What's not here?' Harry asked.

A crowd of dull, distant, faceless figures drifted back and forth around them.

'The entrance to the platform!'

Ron stepped alongside them. 'Must've been that house elf, mate.'

Hermione whirled round. 'Why're you here?'

Ron blinked. 'What do you mean? Came here with Harry, didn't I?'

She gaped. 'But — but that doesn't make sense!'

Dobby. Snatches of the mad elf, his letters, the floating cake, and his cryptic warning flashed through Harry's mind.

'He must've sealed it.' Harry pressed his fingers to the cold brick. A small thrill trickled through his veins. 'I wonder why?'

'Don't set fire to anything,' Hermione blurted.

Ron gawped. 'What?!'

Harry let his arm drop back to his side. The yearning coiled up inside, tight as a vice, hot and thick, but sharp as lemon juice on his tongue. 'I need—'

'Let's just head to Diagon Alley, Harry.' Hermione's hand rested on his shoulder and its warmth eased a little of the need clamped about his heart. 'Someone can come and collect us. I've enough money for the Tube.'

'Right,' Ron said. 'Can probably floo in or something. Teachers don't get the train.'

Harry let out a long slow breath until the yearning faded to a soft little pain beneath his ribs. 'As long as we get there. Something's happening.' The shadow swirled through his thoughts like smoke on the breeze. 'I can feel it.'

Lethe's Lament

Hermione drew a slim, blue line of ink across her page, watching it spread into the little fibres of the parchment. A distant mutter rose and fell around her on the surrounding tables.

Things that don't make sense. She etched five letters into the white, then underlined them. Harry.

A first year Ravenclaw flounced past their table, and up and down the lines of books. Her silver-blonde hair flashed between the gaps in the shelves. Harry stared after her, a strange little frown upon his face, his fingers pressed to his temple and his back as straight as a ruler.

'Harry?' Hermione put her quill down. 'Are you okay?'

His gaze snapped back to her and his shoulders relaxed. 'I'm fine.'

'What did you feel?' she asked. 'Just then?'

'It's always the same,' he murmured. 'It's gone now.'

She picked her pen up and added the feeling to her list, then jotted down spells, non-verbal spells, wandless magic, and unnatural healing.

'What exactly is it?' she whispered.

Harry's hand slipped to his sternum. 'I just… feel it. There's just… something.'

'Something you want?' she probed.

His lips twisted and his brow creased. 'Something I want, but not just that.'

Hermione nodded. 'Something you don't have?'

'Sometimes it feels like I have it.' A small smile crept across Harry's face; it turned broad and bright, and the gleam in his eyes lifted Hermione's heart like a clear summer sky. 'But it always slips away.'

'Slips away,' she muttered. 'Something missing, maybe?'

Harry leant his head to one side and the smile faded from his face. 'Yes... Something missing.'

She tapped the butt of her pen on her piece of paper and scowled at her list. And this is just Harry. None of the other stuff makes any sense either. Ron just turned up like we were all friends. Hermione wracked her brain. We barely spoke to him last year. Or Malfoy. And why does everyone think Harry's on the quidditch team?

'Do you think there are any books on psychology here?' she wondered. 'Or, well, mental illness?'

Harry stared at the ceiling. 'All the mind magic's in the restricted section.'

'All the what?'

'Mind magic,' he repeated as if he were tasting the words for the first time. 'It's in the restricted section.'

He has no idea why he said that, does he. She shivered and leant against the wall. Has he always been like this? Maybe it's not magic or books he needs help with.

'Rip…' A sibilant whisper echoed through the room. 'Rip. Tear. Kill.'

Hermione flinched back off the wall.

Harry cocked his head. 'Interesting…' He jumped from his chair, kicking it back onto the floor. 'That seems unusual.' Harry paused and threw a quick look at the rest of the library. 'Did you hear it?'

'I heard it.' She glanced around at the figures milling about the library, but they carried on like nothing was amiss. 'What was it?'

'I don't know.' His wand slipped from his sleeve and that bright little glint welled up in his green eyes. 'Let's find out!'

Another puzzle…

'So hungry.' The whisper came again. 'So so hungry.'

Nobody in the library paused save for Harry, who stared at the wall like the Mona Lisa was hung upon the bland, white surface.

We're the only two who can hear it. Hermione frowned. Are we mad? All these things that don't add up, is it us?

'Folie à deux,' she murmured.

Harry flicked his wand and ripped open the wall with a stone screech and metal-edged thud. Dust and chips of plaster and rock rained down on their table. The soft scent of damp and mildew washed out in a cold breeze.

Hermione's heart stopped. 'Harry!'

He clambered onto the table and stuck his head into the hole. 'There's just a big pipe…' Harry squirmed his shoulders in and a soft, white glow emanated from within the wall. 'A really big pipe. You could ride a bike through here.'

'Well don't,' Hermione snapped. 'And fix the wall!'

'Fine...' He sighed and wriggled back out. A flick of his wand and the wall reformed. 'It wasn't anything anyway.'

Hermione glanced down at her list and huffed the dust off. I don't think it's so simple. All these things that don't add up, they revolve around Harry. She drew a line under everything she'd written before. And sometimes it's just him doing things that don't make sense. But sometimes it's everyone else that doesn't make sense.

Lethe's Lament

A blur of lavender and magenta robes leapt upon a circular stage and spread its arms out. 'Welcome!' The half-curled blonde hair flopped from one side of his forehead to the other. 'Welcome, my dear students, to Hogwarts' new duelling club!'

Hermione wriggled through the crowd to Harry's shoulder, then shook her head. 'Who is that?'

Harry glanced up at the man peacocking along the stage. 'Lockhart.'

'He's our defence professor, Hermione,' Ron said. 'You scored the highest on his stupid quiz because you have a major crush on him.'

Hermione shook her head and tugged out a small notebook and a muggle pen. 'I've never seen him before in my entire life!'

Ron squinted at her and shrugged. 'Whatever. Has anyone seen Ginny?'

'Who?' Hermione asked, writing in her little book.

'Ginny.' Ron levelled a freckled glower at Hermione. 'My little sister. Are you trying to wind me up for some reason?'

'It just doesn't make sense,' she muttered, carrying on writing.

'Yeah, well, I don't really care.' Ron crossed his arms. 'With the whole Heir of Slytherin, monster in the Chamber of Secrets thing, I don't want her left on her own.'

Hermione's writing reached a furious pace, her face contorted into a scowl. 'Harry.' She grabbed his arm and dragged him back through the crowd. 'Do you know what Ron was talking about?'

The Chamber of Secrets. Stone serpents flashed before his eyes. Flooded white tiles led to dust-covered steps and into the dark. A stab of sorrow lanced through his heart and the yearning bubbled up like magma.

'Maybe?' he murmured, easing his arm free as they left the hall.

Hermione wrung her little notebook like a wet rag. 'Salazar Slytherin has a secret chamber. It has a monster in it! And everyone knows about it. Everyone thinks we know about it!'

Salazar... A fist of emotion clamped 'round Harry's throat and tears sprung to his eyes. They blurred on his lashes as he tried to swallow the hot ball of emotion back down. Harry smeared them away.

Hermione let out something half-sigh, half-sob. 'Am I mad? Sometimes this is all like some strange dream!'

It doesn't do to dwell on dreams. A thousand thousand faces hung among his thoughts, their eyes pale and bright as the moon. But if there're no dreams left, then what's the point? I may as well just disappear after all.

'I think it's something important,' he whispered, drifting up the stairs.

The feeling swirled through him like a storm.

This is the strongest it's been since I saw the mirror.

He followed his feet to a shining puddle and grime-smeared white tiles. The harsh, bright light stabbed at his eyes and a lightness swirled about his head.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut and reopened them.

A short girl in thick-framed, wide glasses laughed and kicked water across the bathroom. Water soaked her robes about her legs and dark, damp patches splotched her shirt and tie.

'No magic!' she cried, beaming and kicking water at him. 'No magic, Tom. That's cheating!'

Water sprayed his face and Harry flinched, brushing it away from his eyes.

Steps led through the sink into the dark beneath Harry's feet. He stumbled down, waving his hand before his face and straining his eyes into the pitch black. The scent of mildew and must clung to his nose.

A gaping-mouthed stone bust rose above a still pool. The eyes of the serpent effigies tracked Harry as he crunched through the mounds of small bones toward it.

'The Chamber of Secrets.' Excitement blazed through his veins like liquid flame. 'This must be it.'

A soft hiss drifted from behind him and a great weight crushed through the bones, slithering over the damp stone.

The monster…

Harry slipped his wand free, white sparks crackling at its tip. 'Fulminis.'

A brilliant flash seared his eyes as he twisted 'round. The bright beam spattered off lime-green scales and scorched the stone effigies.

Spots of light swirled before Harry's eyes, but his wand hand snapped up and sped through a string of wand motions. Incantations slipped from his tongue, the words welling up from the back of his mind. Purple curses deflected off the poisonous green scales and smashed through the statues as he blinked the spots out of his vision.

A bright pair of slitted yellow eyes loomed from within a blur of vast coils.

The world faded away into the distance and everything went dark.

Harry dragged his eyes open.

A single, soft shadow swirled in shining silver, faint as summer shade, silent as winter snow. It danced deep beneath the shimmering mirror's surface like the slim forms of fish darting beneath the bright flash of sunlight off the sea. The ball of burning need tore 'round beneath his ribs like the winds of a hurricane, its hot claws sharp as razors.

Does this never end?

Lethe's Lament

Rivulets of red trickled down the white plaster from the finger-daubed letters. Hermione squinted at the words, but they blurred and swam together between paintings full of spring flowers.

'Her skeleton will lie in the chamber forever,' Harry murmured.

'Whose skeleton?' Hermione demanded.

'Probably Ginny's.' Harry twirled his wand in his fingers. 'Tom's using her.'

Who? Hermione clawed through her memory. Lavender and magenta robes flashed before her mind's eye. Harry vanished down the corridor ahead of her, drifting out of sight. We were just downstairs talking... Her eyes fell upon the daffodils and crocuses. Isn't it still Christmas!?

'She must've been taken to the Chamber…' Harry drifted away, sliding through the crowd.

Oh no, he's found another puzzle. Hermione dashed after him, fighting her way past the flood of students milling in the corridor. And this one's really dangerous…

'Where're you going?' she called.

Harry wandered on until he stumbled into a bright, lilac-draped figure.

'Harry!' The blonde fringe flopped over the man's blue eyes. 'You must be off to save the girl!'

'I'm going to find the Chamber of Secrets, Professor Lockhart,' Harry replied. 'I've a feeling I know where it is.'

Lockhart's eyes bulged. 'You've discovered it!' He drew himself up and smoothed the front of his lilac robes. 'You must show me at once. A girl has been taken!'

Harry strode off down the corridor, spinning his wand 'round and 'round and 'round in his fingers. Lockhart staggered after him, clutching his wand in both hands.

At least there'll be a teacher to help us, this time. Hermione darted after them and skidded into Myrtle's bathroom. Here? Of course! The girl who died!

A soft hiss echoed over the damp, white tiles and the sink slid apart.

Lockhart stared down into the dark. 'Nobody's ever found the Chamber of Secrets, when word of this gets out…' His wand snapped up between Hermione's eyes. 'Obliviate!'

A bright flash of green rippled across Hermione's vision and a soft thud echoed in her ears.

'Are you okay?' Harry's eyes bored into hers.

Am I okay? Hermione glanced around the white tiles and frowned down into the dark passage between the sinks. Wait… Where am I?

'Harry?' Her heart began to pound. 'How did I get here? What were we doing? We were downstairs in the corridor a second ago.'

He raised an eyebrow. 'Your memory…'

Lilac robes flitted through her thoughts, a blonde fringe hung over blue eyes and snatches of conversation along corridors fluttered before the eye of her mind. A stab of fear shot down her spine. Professor Lockhart!

'Where is he?' she squeaked, dragging her wand out. 'Where's Professor Lockhart?'

Harry stared at the small footprints leading down the dust-covered stairs. 'He chose to be an obstacle.'

Hermione's gaze crept down Harry's chest, slipping past his legs, his feet, and the puddle to a sprawled pool of lilac and still, limp limbs. 'Is he — is he… okay?'

A bright little gleam welled up in Harry's eyes and he danced from one foot to the other, tapping his fingers against his thigh and spinning his wand in his fingers. 'I'm going down.' He stepped into the dark.

She edged a couple of steps nearer to Professor Lockhart and poked his elbow with her toe. It flopped off his chest and slapped into the puddle. Blank, wide blue eyes stared up through limp blond curls.

Her blood froze. Harry killed him. Gentle feeling fluttered in her stomach. Because he tried to hurt me. The bright glint in Harry's eyes flashed through her thoughts. No. Because he was an obstacle to his obsession.

Lockhart's pale, damp skin and dead eyes swam amidst the harsh white bathroom light. All the air fled her lungs and her skin flashed hot and cold like a flickering light bulb. Hermione's head spun, light as a cloud, and the fluttering in her stomach bubbled up. The room lurched sideways and she sagged to her knees in the cold puddle, spluttering acrid, pungent orange chunks onto the lilac robes.

I need to help him. Somehow. She wiped vomit off her lips and stumbled to the sink, running cold water over her hands and splashing her sweat-beaded forehead until the mirror showed some colour in her cheeks. Hermione took a gulp of water from the tap and washed the bitter taste from her tongue. Harry went down into the chamber… Her heart clenched and she sprinted down the steps through pitch black, waving a hand before her face. I can't get left behind. I can't help him if I get left behind. Blood thundered through her head and cold sweat stuck her shirt to her back.

Soft voices echoed up through the dark.

Harry's alive. She skidded to a halt amongst a mound of small, broken bones and squinted down between the lines of stone serpents toward a huge stone bust and a dark pool. Why's there two of him?

A small, red-haired girl sprawled across the stone beside a slim, dark book beyond the pair of Harrys. Hermione clutched her wand and edged closer.

'Tom Riddle,' Harry murmured.

Who? Hermione tip-toed closer. Is this the heir?

'Harry Potter.' A bright, excited gleam welled up in the mahogany eyes of the other boy. 'I've been very keen to meet you.'

'Are you it? Harry's eyes darted around the chamber. 'Is this it?'

'It?' Tom Riddle's voice cooled. 'No others have ever discovered this place. We are set apart from the rest. The only real Heirs of Slytherin share his brilliance and drive as well as his blood.'

'What did you do to Ginny?' Harry spun his wand 'round and 'round, drumming his fingers against his hip and bouncing from one foot to the other. 'You're just a memory.'

'I'm much more than a memory,' Tom whispered. 'Little Ginny poured herself into my pages, all her hopes, all her dreams, everything she is. Her very soul.'

Ron's little sister.

'Soul magic…' Harry's gaze sharpened and he fell still. 'Are you just Tom? Or are you both Tom and Ginny, with her lost beneath the surface? A clever way to take her body as your own.'

'You know soul magic.' Tom's eyes narrowed. 'You know it well.'

A chill trickled down Hermione's spine and she crept a little closer. 'What's going to happen to Ginny?'

'There won't be a Ginny. There's just him.' Harry pointed his wand at Tom. 'He's Tom and Ginny, but he convinced Ginny to dream his dreams, so they're one and the same soul now. Two consciousnesses sharing their magic, bound by a shared perception of purpose.'

'Not quite,' Tom murmured. 'She still dreams of being saved. When there're no dreams left, then we'll be one.'

Madness. Hermione swallowed hard and clenched her fists against the hammering of her heart. Magic like that sounds like it came from a horror film. How does Harry even know it? Does he even know he knew it, or is it like before?

Tom's brown eyes flicked to Hermione and back to Harry. 'You brought a girl down here, too.'

'I didn't want to make her wait.' Harry winced a little and touched his fingertips to his temple. 'Don't want to keep a lady waiting, Tom.'

A faint spasm flashed across Tom's face. 'Enough of this. Let's see how you fare against the power I can wield, Harry Potter. Let's see you try to defeat a basilisk, the most deadly magical creature wizards have created.' He swivelled to the statue. 'Speak to me, Slytherin. Greatest of the Hogwarts Four.'

The mouth of the great bust across the pool opened with a dull scrape and a low hiss echoed up.

Hermione's wand trembled and she darted to Harry's side. 'What do we do?' she whispered.

'It feels like a test.' The little gleam in his eyes burst into a wild flame and a broad grin spread across his face. 'Close your eyes, Hermione.' His hand came down upon her shoulder. 'You'll be fine.'

A low slither echoed from within the passage and something heavy splashed into the water. The thin, sour reek of reptiles filled her nose.

'Kill him,' Tom commanded.

Bright flashes stabbed through her eyelids in washes of red; sizzling, hissing noises echoed from all sides and stone smashed and shattered around her.

'No!' Tom cried. 'Kill him. Kill him!'

The air turned searing hot and a crash shook the hall, sending Hermione stumbling to her knees. A warm hand rested on her shoulder.

'You can open your eyes now, Hermione,' Harry said.

Long, bright green coils twitched and tumbled across the floor of the chamber over chunks of broken stone. Crimson pooled beneath the vast serpent's jaw and trickled through the lines in the stone.

Harry left her side, striding through the coils of the spasming snake like they were arching tree branches and plucking the diary from the floor. His grin spread so wide Hermione could see all his teeth and the book shook in his hand.

'Wait.' Tom grabbed at Harry, but his fingers passed through Harry's arm like a ghost. 'No…'

'She was saved.' Harry flicked his wand at the basilisk and ripped free a fang. It drifted across the chamber to hover above the diary. 'Her dream grew a little stronger. Too strong for you to smother it.'

Tom's face twisted into a bloodless glower. 'Do it, then, Harry Potter. Send me to oblivion. I will not disappear. I will return.'

Harry drove the fang in deep and tossed the diary aside. It spurted ink like a fountain as it slid away across the floor. A raw scream tore from Tom's throat as he wavered and vanished.

The grin slid from Harry's face. 'Gone again,' he whispered, his fingers tightening around his ebony wand. 'But I thought…'

He gets worse every time… Hermione wrestled with a sharp, knotted tangle of feeling. I have to help him before he hurts anyone else. Before he hurts himself.

Hermione scrambled to his side. 'Maybe the next puzzle will be it,' she said.

'Maybe,' he whispered, pressing the fingertips of his free hand into the side of his head until they turned white.

Ginny's eyes snapped open and she gasped. 'Harry!'

Harry stared through the poisonous green coils of the basilisk at Slytherin's bust, a strange frown upon his face.

Hermione helped Ginny to her feet and checked her over. 'Are you okay?'

Ginny clung to her side. 'Tom's gone. I think. I hope.' Tears leaked down her face and she wailed. 'I was so stupid.' She sobbed. 'I listened to everything he said and he just swallowed me up. I didn't even remember doing half of it.' Her fingers twisted in Hermione's robes. 'One moment I was in the common room after dinner and the next I'm washing blood and feathers off myself in the showers at midnight.'

Memory gaps… like mine. A chill crept down Hermione's spine and Professor Lockhart's dead face hung before her mind's eye. No. It wasn't Lockhart, those memories came back. My gaps are like Ginny's. She threw a glance at Harry, who stood right on the edge of the pool staring down into the water. He'd never do that, he saved me. And even if he only did that chasing his obsession, he's still as affected as me. Folie à deux.

'I'm sorry,' Ginny wailed. 'And now they'll expel me and send me to Azkaban!'

'It's going to be fine,' Hermione murmured, patting the girl on the back until her sobs faded. 'You'll be fine.'

Something's wrong. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Something's very wrong.

Lethe's Lament

Bright lime-green coils sprawled over the floor above a dark red stain and a spatter of black ink. The soft, insistent tug of familiarity drew Harry's feet through them to the edge of the pool.

'What do you feel?' Hermione asked.

'Like I've been here before.' He stared down into the pool and felt the strange yearning rise up inside like a slim string of silver bubbles out of black water. 'Like something's still missing.'

'That's impossible.' She blinked, then glanced all around. 'Where's Ginny? She was right here!'

'Ginny can't get in here unless she's invited in.' The words spilt off his tongue before his thoughts caught up.

A strained laugh burst from Hermione. 'She's not a vampire, Harry. And that wouldn't happen even if she were.'

'It's blood magic.' His answer tasted familiar, like hearing the echo of his voice bounce back from a dark room. 'Only blood relations can enter.'

'Then how did you get in?!'

Harry raised an eyebrow.

Hermione reeled back. 'Really?!'

He turned back to the bust, staring into the blank stone eyes of his ancestor. A hot little lump stuck in the back of his throat and a soft, dull throb echoed at the base of his skull. The weight of a familiar word hung on the tip of his tongue. Harry let himself taste it, waiting for the weight to take shape.

'Harry?' Hermione called. 'Are you okay?'

'Open,' he whispered.

The lips of Salazar Slytherin's huge bust slid apart and a serpentine stone tongue rose from the water; its tip came to rest before Harry's toes.

Interesting… A soft thrill sang in his blood as his heart picked up its pace and a small smile crept onto his lips. Maybe this time…

'Harry!' Hermione darted to stand beside him. 'Why did you open it?! What if there's another one?!''

'There's not.' He followed his feet over the bridge.

Rings of dust-covered tomes loomed over him up to the distant ceiling, a golden hourglass swung on its hook from the corner of a large, wooden desk and stacks of parchment fluttered across its surface, sending motes of dust swirling through the air.

Hermione gasped into his ear. 'This is amazing!'

Harry swivelled around. A blank, square outline framed her bushy hair as she stared all around her. Hermione's head snapped 'round to stare at the pale square of stone.

Someone lost a painting. A twinge of pain bit into his temple and throbbed there in time with the thud of his heart.

Harry tugged open desk drawers and clawed through the books and papers. Empty vials rattled in their racks and faded lines of ink spread across the desk in a swirl of dust.

Nothing… The thrill ebbed and his heart sank down after it into a deep, dark emptiness. Harry closed his eyes and tuned out Hermione's excited babble. Maybe I'll never find it. Maybe it's nothing at all.

He forced his eyelids open.

Red roses hung among green stems and sharp thorns. A thick, squat privet hedge ran above his head and 'round to flat smooth concrete.

Flowers… Harry reached out and pulled a rose from its stem. A sudden stab of yearning tore through him and the red petals spilt through his fingers and floated to the grass. What's so special about flowers? A sharp pain lanced through his temple.

'Boy!' Vernon's bellow echoed over the green lawn. 'Boy!'

The need clawed at him with sharp, hot talons. Why can't I find whatever this is? Why's it always just out of reach? Harry plucked another rose and a flash of pain stabbed through his thumb. He tugged a little brown thorn out and tossed it aside.

Crimson welled up into a red bead then burst, trickling down his thumb across his palm.

Blood…

'Boy!' Vernon stomped over the short lawn, Marge and her bulldog trailing his heels. 'Stop ruining your aunt's roses and mow the bloody lawn! Show some gratitude for everything we've done for you!'

'I wouldn't bother with roses.' Marge cackled. 'No decent girl's going to waste her time with anyone like you. Runt of the litter, you are. If you were a pup, I'd've drowned you at birth. Waste of life.'

Waste of life. The yearning faded away and a little ball of ice tightened beneath Harry's ribs. Waste of time, more like. I should be out there trying to find something that's missing.

Harry bounced the rose on his palm and tugged the petals off one at a time. 'Is that why you don't have children?' He let the petals slide off his hand and tossed the stem aside. 'Nobody wanted you?'

Marge's jaw dropped.

Vernon spluttered. 'Boy! You do not talk to my sister like that!'

'I'd rather not talk to her at all.' Harry let the ice spread through him; it coursed through his blood, freezing sharp and strong at his heart. 'She's rude and stupid.'

I'd rather not be stuck here. I want — I need — I can't. His breath stuck in the ice swirling through his blood and the shadow from the mirror danced before his eyes. His heart hung above the void, dangling like it hung from a red string. You're all in my way! Why do you all have to be in my way?!

'Right.' Marge shoved Ripper's leash into Vernon's hand. 'I'm going to teach you a lesson, you little shit.' She stamped across the lawn. 'Just because you've gotten a bit taller and found a bit of backbone doesn't mean I'm going to take backtalk from some fucking orphan.'

'Backbone?' Magic curled through Harry, settling into the air, and he thrust out a hand. 'Let's see if you've got one.'

Marge stumbled to a halt and clutched at her chest, her face turning a mottled purple. A high, raw, hoarse shriek tore from her throat. Harry's magic tightened its grasp and a column of bone burst from her chest in a spray of red. Crimson drops spattered the grass, the roses and Vernon's white golf shirt, and rained down on Harry's face. Marge flopped onto the lawn, spilling a tangle of blue-ish purple guts onto the grass. The dripping spine hung in the air, the bright, gleaming points of splintered ribs curving off it like the thorns of the plucked rose.

Harry let it thud to the ground and closed his eyes to smear the blood away.

A pair of hands clapped down on his shoulders. 'Don't panic, Harrykins. It's just water.'

He dried his face on his arm and squinted through the blurs on his lashes.

A pair of red hair-framed faces grinned back. 'How was the summer? We all got horribly sunburnt in Egypt — well, everyone except Charlie and Bill.'

The summer. Harry stared around at the gleaming glasses above the bar and the fluttering wanted posters.

'Went by in a bit of a blur,' he said. 'Who's that on the posters?'

The twins exchanged a look. 'Sirius Black.'

Harry caught the flash of concern in their eyes. Interesting. A hint of a thrill rose within. Is it important? His breath caught. Dare I hope that this might be it?

'Who's Sirius Black?' he asked.

'Boys, boys.' Mr Weasley bustled across. 'Let's not talk about that.'

Ice trickled through Harry's blood. You're not going to get in my way. He caught Mr Weasley's eye.

Snatches of laughter echoed from a dark-haired, grey-eyed man and a pair of shadows, one with familiar messy hair and the other with Harry's green eyes. The same cackling face faded into a sombre scene amongst worn headstones. Stark, dark writing marked two marble graves.

The last enemy to be destroyed is death.

The yearning hit him like a hammer; it clamped around his heart and crushed the breath from his lungs, a churning, whirling heat tearing through him as tears sprang to his eyes.

He turned away and pressed his face into his sleeve. This time — this time it must be it. A shock of excitement flooded into the mix. His blood sang and his head spun. I'm going to find it. I'll finally find it.

Lethe's Lament

Rain drops crawled along the window in thin, clear streams. Beyond them, the countryside blurred past. Hermione pressed her fingers against the glass, the cold seeping into her skin and a soft melancholy settled over her like night clouds veiling the moon.

Frost crept across the window. Beads of water turned to chips of ice and flew away. The melancholy coiled deeper, turned sharp, biting through her like winter cold through thin pyjamas.

The door to the compartment rattled open. Something slipped in amongst them, a thin thing with hoarse, rasping breath and long skeletal fingers, shrouded by a tattered, black cloak. Fear dug its nails into her heart and she huddled back into the corner by the window, squeezing her eyes shut.

Harry… Hermione wrestled with the fear, trying to force her eyes to open and herself to move.

She saw him turn away in her mind. Bright madness burnt in his eyes and a frenetic tremble shivered through him as he staggered toward a distant crimson light. Red dripped from his hands with every step.

A loud screech tore through the compartment and cold air flooded in.

Harry stood over a twitching ball of black robes and broken limbs, a dark gleam in his eyes. He flicked his wand and the ball smashed through the window and vanished. Cold wind rushed into her face, tossing her hair over her eyes and thrumming in her ears.

'Harry?' She dragged herself out of the corner.

A warm hand came down on her shoulder. 'Are you okay?'

Glass flowed back into the window and the wind died.

She sagged. 'I'm fine. What was that?'

'A dementor,' he murmured. 'They're sustained by a form of natural alchemy, using the fear of their prey to fuel the transmutation magic they need to live.'

'They made me scared.' Hermione cast a glance upward and caught the fading shadow in his green eyes. 'Are you — are you okay, too?'

Harry's hand tightened on her shoulder. 'For a moment, it all felt out of reach. Like I was trapped forever behind glass, with everything I wanted on the other side.' His breath picked up. 'I couldn't — I didn't — I —'

She eased him back onto the seat and held both his hands. 'Breathe,' she whispered.

Bright, mad light smouldered in Harry's eyes like a dying sun. 'There's no time to breathe. I need it.' His fingers clutched at empty air. 'That man who escaped. Sirius Black. I need to find him.'

He needs a puzzle. She dragged her trunk down and rummaged through, shoving her clothes around until her fingers closed on a small book. It's still here.

'Try this.' Hermione pulled a biro from the small pocket and scribbled a maze of lines onto the first blank page. 'If you get better at solving puzzles, you'll have a better chance of finding what's missing. Focus on just the puzzle and block out everything else.'

Harry tugged the lopsided ink labyrinth from her hands and skimmed the page. His breathing steadied and the tremble in his fingers stilled. 'Can I?' He reached toward the pen.

'Of course.' She passed it over. 'I can keep finding puzzles if you want? I have loads, I used to do them at primary school at break and lunch.'

He gave her a faint nod, his eyes on the page.

That seems to have helped. A soft warm glow rose up inside her. He needs something to keep him calm. She watched him sketch a line through to the centre of her maze. Something he feels is still helping him move toward whatever he's chasing.

'I'll make the next one harder.' She tugged the book and pen back out of his grip and began to draw a triangular maze. 'Not so easy when it's not a square, see?'

Harry watched her draw, a strange gleam of hunger in his eyes.

I can do this. Hermione passed him the new maze and sat down beside him. Someone has to help him and I might be the only one who can.

'Tell me about Sirius Black?' she asked.

Harry's line stopped.

'There was a grave. Two graves.' His breath caught and his eyes glistened. 'The last enemy to be destroyed is death,' he whispered.

Hermione watched a tear slide down his cheek. 'There'll be time. We'll find it.'

Has he always been like this? Has there always been something missing? His words echoed over and over in the back of her mind. Two graves. His parents? Sudden inspiration struck her. Maybe… maybe this is all trauma from that night. A swell of pity surged within her breast and she squeezed her eyes shut to hold back tears. Poor Harry.

'Are we all ready?' A rough, quiet voice echoed in her ears.

Hermione snapped her eyes open.

Harry leant against the edge of the teacher's desk beside her, his eyes fixed on the large wardrobe rattling at the centre of the room. The other students hung back by the walls and a pale, slim man stood before them, tugging at the fraying seam of his suit shoulders.

We were just on the train… She tugged her notebook out of her pocket. Memory gaps.

'Who's that?' Hermione fingered her wand and nudged Harry with her elbow. 'What are we doing?'

'Professor Lupin.' Harry's stare bored into the wardrobe. 'He's got a boggart trapped in there.'

Professor Lupin clapped his hands together. 'Right! Who's feeling brave?'

A low mutter rippled 'round the walls.

'I'll choose someone, then.' His gaze lingered on Harry, switched to her, and flicked back. 'Mr Potter, I've heard impressive things about you, so let's have you go first. Remember, the incantation is riddikulus.'

The wardrobe sprang open.

A shadow slipped out, faint as summer shade; it hung in the air like a wisp of smoke, twisting and turning like eddying waters. Harry stared at the shape like he was starving and it was a great feast laid out just beyond his reach, his fingers curling toward it like he meant to try and snatch it from the air. The shadow darkened and grew tall, stretching into a single silhouette, and he blinked, wincing and touching his fingertips to his temple.

A stab of fear lanced through her. 'Harry,' Hermione hissed. 'Don't do anything dangerous.'

He stared into the wardrobe with a faint frown. 'Don't what?'

The silhouette drifted closer and reached out one hand, a bright, burning ring of gold shone upon it like the moon in the night sky. Harry stared right through it at where the shadow had first hovered.

He can't see it. Hermione's heart stopped. He can't even see it.

'Riddikulus,' Professor Lupin murmured, flourishing his wand.

The shadow snapped into a black sheet and collapsed to the floor, then slipped back into the wardrobe.

'Okay.' Professor Lupin clapped his hands together. 'Let's come back to that later. Remember that, while the boggart seems to change shape, it's impossible for it to really do that. Nothing you see is actually real.'

Not real. Hermione's breath caught and her gaze slid 'round to Harry. Like a dream.

Harry caught her eye. 'Are you okay?'

Okay? Her head span and her stomach churned, the blood rushed in her ears and her heart hammered against her ribs. It's like a dream. She clutched for the desk and pressed her head against the cool wood. And all the odd things… when everyone else stops making sense… they're just part of the dream.

'I need to be sure.' She stumbled away from the desk and grabbed Harry's arm, dragging him after her.

'Are we going somewhere?' Faint excitement coloured Harry's tone. 'Is something happening?'

Hermione pulled him through the corridors and into Myrtle's bathroom. 'Open it.'

'Open,' he murmured.

The sink slid apart.

She tugged him down the steps into the black, past the serpent effigies, over the bridge and into the study. 'I'm back.'

Salazar Slytherin stared down from his frame. 'I can see that.' His gaze flicked between her and where Harry tugged loose leaves of parchment from a dark, well-thumbed tome. 'Are you siblings?'

Hermione blinked. 'No.'

'Your friend can't hear me?' Salazar asked.

'No.' A lump swelled up in Hermione's throat. 'I — I don't think he can. I don't know why. Nothing makes sense.' Tears prickled in her eyes. 'I don't think any of this is real!'

And if it's not, what happens? Do I just wake up?

'Real isn't as cut and dry as you'd think when magic is involved.' Salazar's eyes roved over the study. 'He can't seem to hear you at the moment, either.'

She twisted around. 'No… He can't.' Hermione jotted it down in her notebook alongside the boggart.

'Interesting.'

A bubble of laughter burst through Hermione's lips. 'Harry says that the exact same way.'

Salazar drummed his fingers upon the head of his serpent and pointed his little finger at her book. 'Tell me what you've observed.'

She swallowed. 'Harry doesn't make sense. He can do magic he shouldn't be able to, wandless, non-verbal spells, and the fire…' Hermione glanced at the second part of her list. 'And sometimes, it's not just Harry. There are… gaps in my memory. One moment I'm with Harry and it's Christmas, the next I'm there with Harry and it's Spring. Everyone else suddenly knows things I'm sure aren't true or didn't happen. It — it just makes no sense!'

'What's your theory?'

'It feels like a dream.' She pinched her arm and flinched from the flash of pain. 'But it can't be.'

'The only limit magic has are the limits we impose on it,' Salazar said. 'But if this is a dream, who is dreaming? You?'

'No. It revolves around Harry. He's the one dreaming. I'm always with him...' Her blood ran cold. 'But then — then I'm not real,' she whispered.

'Real or not, you're not the same as everyone else if you can notice these things.' Salazar wound his snake around his arm, then unwound it again, a faint frown upon his face. 'You're always with him?'

'Yes.' A horrible certainty crept up on her. 'Always.'

'Then if your dream hypothesis is right, Harry is the crux of it all. Everyone else, they only exist when they're with him.'

'And me?' Hermione whispered.

'You're not the same as them.' Salazar's frown deepened. 'Does it matter?'

'Of course!' She clenched her fists around her notebook. 'I want to help him! I can't do that if I'm not — if I'm not real!'

'Can't you?'

The air vanished from her lungs. 'But—'

'Does knowing this change what you want to do?' Salazar asked.

'No,' she murmured. 'No, he saved me. I'm his friend. There's nobody else who can help him, they're not even real.'

'If this is a dream, then like all dreams it's built from memories and what Harry can imagine,' Salazar said. 'If he remembers saving you here, then it's more than likely…'

'He saved me for real,' Hermione whispered, a hot tight knot of feeling clenching beneath her ribs. 'And his something, it's probably part of being in this dream, so in reality, he must have saved me just for me.' She blinked the tears away. 'I want to help him. Can I help him?'

Salazar stroked a finger down the spine of his snake. 'If you want to help him, then find a way to help him.'