The Lord of the Stone

Sirius started violently. He'd been sitting, carefully watching Hermione, and she'd just screamed in her sleep.

'Alex!' he shouted, springing out of his chair. He held a hand to Hermione's forehead, which was hot and clammy. Alexander Gesser entered the room instantly, his wand in his hand.

'What happened?' he asked urgently.

'She screamed in her sleep. And she sort of jerked forward. What - what's happening to her?' Sirius looked completely helpless.

After returning from his short run, Sirius had been amazed and horrified to find Hermione inches from death in the clearing they'd found. He hadn't been able to discern a cause for this; the only strange thing had been a curious red stain around her mouth. Not wanting to wait around for her to die, he'd transformed and taken Hermione back to his friend's house. He did not remember the trip back as a dog, however. It hadn't really hit until he had regained his complex human conscience on getting Hermione to the house.

And then it had struck him. Fear. Despair. Guilt. He had left Hermione alone in that clearing. Alone and completely vulnerable. How could he have been so stupid? He would never forgive himself if she was to die ... and if she were to recover he'd probably never be able to look her in the eye again.

The situation was all too familiar. At the age of sixteen Sirius had done something so awful to his friends that he was not entirely sure they'd ever fully forgiven him. After all, Remus probably still thought he was James and Lily's murderer. If he was alive, anyway.

Now Sirius sat in Alex Gesser's small, comfortable guest room, plagued by shadows of the past. Only that time it had been Remus lying on the bed, not responding. Sirius tried to block his memory as he remembered what Dumbledore's punishment had been.

Mercifully, Gesser had returned home at some point since they'd called at his house earlier. Sirius' eyes were tearstained and he had not yet left Hermione's side. There still appeared to be the smallest bit of life in her, although it was waning.

'There is Dark magic afoot here,' Gesser said, in broken English. He had examined Hermione when she'd arrived, but had not been able to discover what was wrong. He had, however, taken a small sample of the red liquid around her mouth. 'In a few minutes I will be able to tell what this is.' He motioned to the stain.

'Thank you, Alex,' said Sirius. He looked back at Hermione. 'You'll be all right, Hermione. Just hold on.' He stared into her lifeless eyes and was forced to look away. He felt like he was being slowly suffocated; his lungs seemed to be closing up. Coughing, he wiped away tears. Come on, Hermione.

Gesser was a Muggle-born wizard whom Sirius had not seen for many years. No doubt Gesser had been extremely surprised, therefore, when Sirius had knocked on his door, stuck in Austria and in dire need of help. He had worked for a brief spell at the Austrian Ministry of Magic, as a Potions specialist. He was a young man - younger than Sirius, at any rate - with neat hair and pencil-grey eyes.

He left the guest room and headed for the cellar. He kept all his magical reference books, equipment and potions down there in case of emergency. He'd not used some of them for a long time, however, on account of the Purifying.

He was doing several magichemical tests on the red substance Hermione had obviously ingested. If it turned out to be what he suspected, then Hermione was lucky to still be alive. With a sudden hiss, the red liquid turned colourless.

*

'Runespoor poison,' he explained to Sirius, having returned to the guest room. 'Just as I suspected. It's not hard for Dark Wizards these days to procure it, even the Class A stuff. By my calculations Hermione should be dead.'

Sirius looked like he was about to say something, but Gesser held up a hand. 'But she is not dead, obviously, and shows extraordinary willpower. She can be cured - in fact; she is very likely to recover, having got over the worst of it. Someone underestimated her resolve.'

Sirius nodded, gave his friend a brief smile, and then wondered. Who, or what, had underestimated her resolve? 'Thank you, Alexander. What can be done to cure her?'

'I could use some aconite - you know, wolfsbane. I don't suppose you'd be able to find me any?' He looked at Sirius and was surprised to see him looking wistful. Sirius mouthed, 'wolfsbane' and seemed to slip into careful thought.

'Sirius?' Gesser asked after a few minutes.

Sirius started. 'Oh, sorry. Yes ... wolfsbane ... hmm. All right, I should be able to find some. How soon do you need it?'

'The sooner the better, I think. She'll need it to sustain herself until I can make the proper antidote.'

*

Sirius returned to the house several hours later. His search for aconite had been successful but tiring; also added to his weariness was Hermione's predicament. He chided himself again for leaving her alone. He often forgot that despite having iron strength of mind and determination, and being a very powerful witch, she was only eighteen years old, and barely even an adult.

Gesser was not in the guest room when he entered, and removed his thick coat. There was a steady fire crackling in the corner, occasionally emitting sparks. Sirius put his hands close to it to warm them when he heard Gesser behind him.

'I should not get too close to the flames,' he said, in his peculiar accent. 'They can spoil the aconite.' Sirius moved away from the fire and handed the herbs to his friend, glancing worriedly towards Hermione. 'Try and get some sleep, Sirius. Hermione will be all right now.'

Sirius nodded in acquiescence. Outside, the wind had calmed. On the peaks of the distant mountains, he could just make out a large, black figure. When he blinked, however, it had disappeared. He turned and passed the herbs to Gesser, smiled briefly, and left the room.

Gesser showed no signs of tiredness, however. After Sirius had left he thrust the aconite into his pocket, made sure Hermione was covered up warmly, and made his way down to the cold cellar underneath his home.

Before the Purifying, Alex Gesser had been an important member of the International Union of Pure and Applied Potions - he'd worked for a brief stint with an Englishman, whose name he could no longer remember, on developing potions to cure or alleviate symptoms associated with magical beasts. This meant he was particularly adept at brewing antidotes and other remedies. However, the cure for Runespoor poisoning was not easy to procure; it could take him up to two weeks to get the correct ingredients.

Hermione would be all right, though - Gesser knew of a suspension that would keep the poison at bay for a little while. Entering his small laboratory, he pulled on a coat and began to prepare the ingredients. Since Voldemort's rise six years ago he'd had fewer ingredients to work with - at one stage, his lab had been so crammed with potions, substances and other materials that he'd often come across things he'd never even heard of. Those days had passed, unfortunately. For the past six years Gesser had been living almost entirely as a Muggle, using magic only in his part time job as a chemist.

The draught did not take long to prepare. Gesser put it on the side to cool and picked up the book he had been reading earlier on: The Jones-Teraski Guide to Dangerous Magical Creatures: how to fight the diseases, poisons and infections. It was one of the very first books he'd owned, and probably one of the most useful; a Potions manual containing information on how to cure almost every ailment associated with Magical Beasts. At the moment he was carefully scanning a dusty page explaining how Runespoor poison might be counteracted. Ordinarily, the venom from the tooth of the right head of the serpent would be sufficient to kill a grown man, but Gesser had noticed with interest that Hermione had ingested the poison instead of it flowing directly into her bloodstream. The latter tended to do much more damage.

He sighed as his eyes roved the difficult instructions. He'd been right - it could well take up to two weeks to prepare the antidote. So, he'd have his work cut out for the second time in less than a month ...

'Alexander?' It was Sirius. Gesser turned and smiled briefly at his friend.

'I was just having a look at the potion I'll need to make,' he said, holding up the guide. Sirius nodded.

'Do you have the ingredients?'

'Oh yes, I have them - but the powdered rushsplint has to be dissolved in Rubiskja exactly two weeks before the full moon, which isn't for the best part of a month anyway. I must ask, though - what is it that brings you out to these parts? They are heavily guarded, after all, and I thought you'd stopped travelling long distances.'

Sirius hesitated. 'We're looking for someone, that's all ...'

'Ah,' said Gesser, closing his book and placing it back on the shelf. 'You're looking for Harry Potter.' Sirius was so surprised by this that he started backwards and knocked over several glass beakers. 'There's no need to look so surprised, Sirius -' Gesser continued, clearing up the glass shards with a flick of his wand. 'Though I rarely practise magic these days, I still keep my ear to the ground. The rumours of Harry Potter's sudden appearance reached my ears several weeks ago. I must confess I was surprised. And if I remember your old stories correctly, James and Lily Potter bestowed the responsibility of being Harry's godfather on your shoulders before he was even born.'

Sirius laughed despite himself. 'Shows I'm losing my memory as I get older. Yes ... I remember them telling me Lily was pregnant ... all those years ago ...' Gesser said nothing as Sirius assumed a faraway look, with the trace of a smile on his lips.

'You're quite right, though,' he said, jerking back into his surroundings. 'We are trying to get to Harry before Voldemort does. You can surely remember how powerful James and Lily were - why, you met them, didn't you?'

'Just the once,' said Alexander softly.

'Well, then, you can imagine what Harry might be like, once he learns to control his magic...' He sighed again. Gesser picked up the goblet containing Hermione's suspension.

'You really ought to get to bed now, Sirius. This potion will keep Hermione stable; don't worry. It's a long journey you've embarked upon; you may as well rest all you can.'

Sirius nodded and followed Gesser out of the basement. Gesser headed for the guest bedroom but Sirius walked along a corridor to the living room, where he had thrown a couple of cushions on to one of the sofas. Shaking off his jumper, he collapsed onto the sofa and fell asleep straight away.

***

Draco shivered. He and Gryffin had covered a lot of distance in a very short time, but it had unfortunately brought them into one of the few places he never felt safe. Romania had been practically abandoned by witches and wizards since the Purifying. It was now crawling with thousands of magical creatures, from Dugbogs to dragons, who had been able to flourish without wizardkind around to interfere.

Twilight was fast approaching when the two stopped on a precipice high above a Muggle town. The town was called Zalău, though neither boy nor beast would have known it. It stood north of the area avoided by wizards and Muggles alike - Transylvania. Its black peaks rose high below the rising moon. Far off in the east stood the Carpathian Mountains themselves, ever constant and watchful.

Draco sat a little apart from Gryffin as he drank from a flask of water. Although tired and mildly afraid of his surroundings, he was content. Hermione Granger was out of his way, out of his world, out of his mind... Draco felt an uncomfortable jolt at his last thought. No ... she was unlikely to leave his thoughts for a long time.

Hermione had created a prison in Draco's mind. Or maybe she was trapped in a prison in his mind. Either way, few of his thoughts did not come back to her in some way. He could feel what she felt, in some ways. When he was close to her, he could read her emotions. He had learnt to, after...

'Draco?' Gryffin padded softly along the ground to where Draco was sitting. He looked troubled.

'What is it?'

'I think we should continue. We can reach the river down there by nightfall.' Draco followed the griffin's gaze and noticed a thin sliver of blue several miles away. It would be a good idea to camp near a water source. 'I would not wear your wings, if I were you.' Draco acquiesced without a word; he had learnt to take Gryffin's advice without question.

Casting a glance at the distant mountains, Draco thrust his wings into his pocket and stood up, dusting off his robes. It wasn't far to the river, but the path wasn't easy. There was a lot of undergrowth on the paths leading eastward, and the tangled thorn bushes weren't going to make it any easier.

They left the rock face quietly, not wanting to attract the attention of anything around them. Gryffin led, his majestic eagle-head surveying the land before them. Draco knew the griffin could see up to ten times better than the average human being, and consequently walked along behind, using his wand to see where he was going.

And then he saw it.

Far off to the east, nestled deep in the Carpathian Mountains, was a curious light. It looked remarkably liked a Muggle lighthouse; flashing on and off every couple of seconds. Draco could not tell whether the light was blue or white, but stared at it all the same.

'Gryffin,' he said slowly. 'Can you see the light over there?' He heard the griffin stop and turn its head, but did not avert his eyes from the dancing light in the distance. However, his gaze was broken by a loud shriek from Gryffin.

'Draco! Turn away!' Draco did so, very reluctantly, and turned to face the griffin. It looked extremely anxious.

'Do not look into the light,' said Gryffin, looking Draco straight in the eye. 'It will consume you. Avoid it at all costs.'

'What is it?' said Draco, inadvertently turning his head. He felt a swift pain in his shoulder. Gryffin had cut him. Draco glared.

'Do not look at it,' Gryffin growled again. 'It is one of the five Alkaŗi - the dragon lights. Wizards are drawn to them. Do not ask me about the magic behind them, or even how they were created. I merely know that the Alkaŗi came into being at approximately the same time that Lord Voldemort came to power. It is one of the reason that there are so few witches and wizards left here.'

Draco nodded, and yet his eyes yearned to turn back to the flickering light. He wanted to see the way it danced across his vision ... so beautiful...

Gryffin made a noise of impatience. 'Already the Alkaŗ has had an effect.' He turned. 'You are just lucky that -' He froze. Forgetting what he had been about to say, Gryffin gazed out towards the Mountains, just above where the Alkaŗ stood.

Draco paused as well. However, he did not turn his head. 'Gryffin? What's wrong?'

The griffin did not blink. Its eyes were fixed resolutely on a point above and behind Draco. Unlike others, though, Draco knew when not to disturb a griffin. He sighed and pulled the hood of his cloak over his silver-blond hair. He made to step down off the rock, but Gryffin stuck out a paw roughly to stop him.

'Do not move,' Gryffin said silently. 'Do not even breathe.'

Puzzled, Draco stood still. The wind whipped silently passed them, but Gryffin's gaze did not waver. What was he looking at? He studied his companion's features carefully - his sharp beak was still and his small eyes were drawn tight in concentration. He could see something far off, then...

*

The man in black made a small noise, almost like a hiss.

'The Alkaŗ sees something,' he whispered to the large creature in the corner. The creature opened a red eye wearily and considered his companion.

'Are you sure?' he said, in a language known by very few men.

'I sense it,' said the young man, tapping the walls of the cave. 'I feel it in the rocks.'

'If you are sure.'

The creature opened another eye and rose, coming out of its torpor. The ground shook slightly as it steadied itself, and laid four huge feet on the floor of the cave. The man, meanwhile, had put on a black cloak. He stretched out a gloved hand to pick up a thin strip of wood in a crevice on the wall.

Taking a breath, he jumped up and on to the hide of the creature, both of them still hidden in darkness. With a cry and a roar, they lifted from the ground and flew from the cave, out into the night sky beyond them.

*

Draco shivered again. It was certainly getting colder as the last rays of light evaporated. He looked back across the land they had crossed, dark and shadowy in the moonlight. Away to the northwest was Hungary, a place of safety. Romania, though, was a risky place.

He sighed. Although he and Gryffin were making excellent progress towards the borders out of Europe, he felt oddly absent. Veiling this with a mask of apathy and hatred often worked, but some of Hermione's words kept swimming to the surface of his mind.

Was it really true? Was Draco merely a pawn in Voldemort's scheme to turn Harry Potter to the Dark Side, into one of his slaves? He didn't know. Of course, Hermione was very likely to have been bluffing. After the meeting with Voldemort in Simial Neryth he had come up with a plan to harm Harry Potter in some way. Brilliant. Except that if Voldemort really did want Harry as a slave, Draco would be tortured or worse for harming him.

Gryffin interrupted Draco from his psychological dilemma. 'Draco!' he hissed, finally tearing his eyes away from the mountains. 'We have to move from here, quickly!'

'What's wrong?' Draco asked, jumping down from the rock and collecting his pack from the ground.

'I fear there are dragons close by. In fact, I believe I saw one exiting the mountain on which the Alkaŗ rests. They are born hunters, the wild dragons. We must find shelter, and quickly! To the river!'

They bolted. Draco ran along behind Gryffin, whose silver wings were now the only visible part of him. What they were running from, he didn't know exactly, but if dragons were on their trail they would be hard pressed to escape.

Gryffin, even in the dark, could see quite clearly where he was going. Draco, with his inferior vision, merely had to follow the griffin as best as he could. They came sharply down and into a large tangle of bushes. Gryffin, however, was able to merely swipe through the thorns and prickles as if they were paper, and soon Draco could here the sound of rushing water ahead of them. He turned his head to see if anything was following, and was greeted with an incredible sight.

Moonlight was now streaming over the precipice they had left moments before. As Draco turned to look, a huge black dragon came soaring over the top of it, silhouetted against the moon, its wings spread wide. And on top of it, unmistakeable in the white, ethereal, surrounding light, was a figure. Draco knew, for some inexplicable reason, that he, she or it was looking directly at him. He heard Gryffin shriek, and then the dragon roared.

Draco had never heard such a sound. He had read much about dragons - he even knew a spell or two that might help to stun one - but as he heard the long, blood-chilling roar from the black dragon he knew he would have no chance against it. Nevertheless, he had an iron constitution. And he could not afford to be a coward. As if an invisible strength of mind had gripped his mind, he leapt forward, following Gryffin faster and more furiously.

'Hurry!' he heard Gryffin cry. There was no need for silence any longer. Several hundred metres behind them flew the dragon, getting closer and closer with each second. And yet, it would not be easy for it to land, Draco thought, before gulping. Maybe it doesn't need to. The thought of fire shot through Draco like an arrow, and he stumbled. His greatest fear was being burned in any way.

He did not fall, however. He felt himself supported by a warm flank and looked up. Gryffin had stopped running and was crouching still beneath the trees, not taking his eyes from the great menace in the air above them.

'Draco,' he whispered. 'Climb onto my back. I cannot escape this thing on land.'

Draco obeyed, and swung his legs over, grasping Gryffin's fur tightly. He felt the creature shudder slightly under him, and then a slight vibration as its wings began to flap.

The dragon and his rider were clearly not expecting Gryffin to emerge from the trees concealing him and Draco. The griffin shot out like a dart, his silver wings held tight in and his head facing upward. But as they flew on, away from the great white orb behind them, the dragon gave another roar. Draco, staring back at the rider, felt Gryffin shudder again underneath him. He steeled himself, and pulled out his wand, letting it emit a couple of sparks to show the rider that he had it. This did not have the desired effect, however - the rider shouted something in a harsh tongue and the dragon immediately reared again, emitting sparks from its nose. And then it swooped.

The chase was on. Draco knew Gryffin would not be able to hold out for very long, but would be damned before giving up without a fight. Turning entirely round to face the dragon and rider, he began to cast spells with his wand, taking care not to lean too far forward. Gryffin, meanwhile, was putting every last ounce of his strength into staying in the air.

Draco was trying to remember how to perform the Shield charm. He knew someone had taught him it; it was just a case of accessing the memory. Closing his eyes, he thought back to his time at school ... no, First-Years at Hogwarts weren't taught charms that complex. When had he learnt it? Another roar from the dragon made the air vibrate, and then it hit him. No wonder he'd not been able to think of the memory...

**

Despite herself, she giggled slightly. 'You don't know the Shield charm? Draco, that's easy.'

'Protego!' she said, looking strangely distant. Instantly an almost transparent white shield appeared around her. She muttered, 'Finite Incantatem', and it disappeared. 'You'll have no problem,' she said. 'Go on, try.'

'Petrificus Totalus!' she said in reply. Draco watched as the beam of light issued from her wand and bounced harmlessly off the green shield.

Oh the humanity, Draco thought. The irony that his worst enemy had taught him the very spell he needed to survive. Pushing thoughts of her as deep down in his mind as possible, he concentrated once again on his so-called protector, the person he needed to think of to cast the Shield charm. It would repel fire, which was all Draco cared about.

As Hermione had said over a year ago, though, casting the charm whilst facing a dragon was not easy. Though he tried to block out the sound, Draco could hear its roar as it came nearer. He had to get this right.

'Protego,' he said quietly, and opened his eyes. He sighed a huge breath of relief. The green shield shimmered in the moonlight and Draco heard Gryffin growl softly and gratefully. The shield seemed to give the griffin more confidence and he sped up, flying slightly ahead of the dragon.

If only life were that simple, Draco thought several seconds later, when the Shield charm disappeared from around them. He realised then that the rider was not trying to kill him, but simply trying to stop him. He heard a voice behind him and almost fell off Gryffin.

'Stop.' He turned and saw that the dragon was right behind him, and the rider had spoken. He could not distinguish the man's face, though, as it was concealed by a mask.

'Why?' he said, and was unable to keep the fear out of his voice.

'I want to talk.' The man had no accent and his words were short and clipped. Draco was starting to wonder whether he was actually human, and not a runaway vampire. That was all he needed.

'All right, if you promise not to hurt us.'

The man turned his head. 'Us? Your griffin is not welcome here. It is with you I wish to speak.'

Draco froze. Could he abandon Gryffin? The creature shot him a wounded look, but he looked back into the small, yellow eyes of the dragon.

'The griffin shall not land.'

Draco regretted this very much, because he had underestimated just how proud griffins can be, human relationships notwithstanding. Gryffin gave a shriek and rolled to the side. Draco slipped, and tried to grip the creature's flank, but it shook him off and he fell. He did not even have time to scream before a rough hand pulled him up, and he found himself seated on top of the black dragon. He saw Gryffin's shadow silhouetted against the moon as he flew away, and he felt sad.

'Do not fear for your griffin,' the man said. He then said something very peculiar to the dragon, in a language Draco could not understand.

*

Nearly half an hour later, they arrived back at a huge cave built into the side of the mountains. Draco was almost white with fear and yet, riding the dragon, he felt oddly at peace. The man in front of him seemed to emanate nothing but strange warmth, which Draco did not try to comprehend.

They landed roughly, and the man helped the dragon to shuffle into one of the dark corners of the cave. At that point the direness of Draco's situation seemed to hit him. Here he was, stranded in a cave in the middle of Romania. And if Gryffin were to return to Lord Voldemort, he would find out...

It didn't bear thinking about. Instead, Draco concentrated his energy on watching the strange man, who had showed no signs of wishing to hurt him.

'Who are you?' he asked.

'The beasts call me Périsoine, though I could not say why. To humans I am known as Sasha. Who are you, and why do you pass through these mountains?'

'Draco Malfoy, and I'm on my way to ...' He froze, because the man had immediately tensed and walked closer to him.

'Show me your arm.'

Something in his calm voice made Draco's head go numb. He reluctantly held out his arm and drew back his cloak, revealing the red Dark Mark. The man sucked in his breath slowly.

'Get out,' he said, and for the first time Draco sensed something in his voice. Disgust. Hatred. 'No - wait. First, empty your pockets.'

Draco thought about this. This man had human emotions, whoever he was, and was obviously deeply opposed to the Dark Arts. That ruled out the possibility of him being a vampire. Draco had training that surpassed the powers of nearly all wizards in the living world. Why should he be so afraid?

'No,' he said slowly, and pulled his cloak over the Dark Mark. He turned towards the mouth of the cave when he felt an invisible prickling on the back of his neck. He stopped.

'You will empty your pockets,' the man said calmly. 'Or I shall release the dragon.'

Draco's courage dissolved. Not turning round, he threw out the odds and ends he had in his pockets, save only his wand. And then his hand felt a thin necklace with a gem, and he stopped. Oh no...

'Remove it,' the man said. 'You may keep only your wand.'

With a heavy heart, Draco took out his wings and threw them to the floor, where they landed with a slight chink. The man moved closer and picked them up, surveying them in his gloved hands.

'Wings,' he breathed, and put them in his pocket. From another pocket he took a small Muggle battery, and handed it to Draco.

'A Portkey back to the Hungarian border,' he said, his mouth twisting into a smile. 'You will leave this country in the next hour or you shall not live. Your kind does not belong here. Go!'

He roared so forcefully that Draco jumped, and sped as fast as he could from the cave. When outside, he collapsed onto a rock and sat, looking sadly at the distant flats where Hungary lay. The lead they had built up was gone. His wings were gone. He had lost a friend through his sheer cowardice, and faced death if he ever returned home.

Sighing, he took out the battery and felt a jerk behind his navel.

*

Sirius and Gesser sat together in the spacious, comfortable living room. It was early morning, and the Austrian sun reflected sharply in the windows. Hermione was still sleeping.

'I suppose I will need to go out into the forest later,' Gesser said, handing Sirius a glass of water. 'There are several ingredients which must be procured if I am to help Hermione. What will you do?'

'Stay with her, I suppose. I think my limited potions skills might be up to making a little more of that antidote, if needs be.' Gesser nodded.

'The instructions are down in the basement, open at the correct page. Hopefully, however, the single dose will sustain her.'

Sirius smiled as he glanced at his companion. 'Thank you so much for your help, Alex. What is it you've been doing since we last met?' Gesser smiled at Sirius' words.

'Nothing very interesting, by wizarding standards,' he said, with a small smile. 'Some medicinal work with the Muggles, and a little travelling. Oh, and now that I think of it...' He scratched his head. 'There was a young wizard around these parts whom I helped recently - less than a month ago, if my memory serves. He was a very strange character.'

Sirius glanced out of the window and then back to Gesser. 'Where was he from?'

'His accent was English, which is why I've remembered him. I mean, I see enough strange people out in these parts. But this man was peculiar. He seemed very disturbed in his mind. And yet, in another way, he knew exactly what he was talking about. I forget what his name was, but I lent him a bed for one night and gave him several potions. He was very grateful. As I recall, he repeated the words, "They're coming for him" frequently.'

Sirius leaned forward, his interest aroused. 'Where did he go, after leaving you?'

'He travelled eastwards, so I presume he ended up in Hungary. I hope he found somewhere to stay, and hide.'

'Hide?'

'The Death Eaters have been on the alert in these parts ever since Harry Potter's whereabouts were ascertained. This man, although he did have some signs of mild schizophrenia, would make an ideal candidate for recruiting. I gave him a potent solution to help clarify his thoughts. Hopefully he's pulled himself together by now.'

'You're a modern saint,' said Sirius, only half-joking. 'I'm amazed the Death Eaters haven't found you yet. I thought all Muggle-borns could be detected, regardless of protective spells.'

Gesser paused, and seemed about to say something, but then changed his mind. 'I manage to keep out of sight,' he said eventually, though Sirius felt he was not entirely comfortable with the topic.

The two men talked for most of the morning, about the future and the past. Sirius was surprised to learn how little he knew about Gesser's childhood; he had been raised as a Muggle for eleven years, despite knowing that he was a wizard.

'My parents insisted I had a Muggle education, at least through - what do you say, primary school? By the time I was almost twelve, though, they knew I would have to leave and learn magic.'

Sirius recounted some of his own tales about Hogwarts and the time after it. The time before he was sent to Azkaban, he reflected, was probably the best of his life, and yet at the time the shadow of the Dark Side had been on them all.

By lunchtime, they had exhausted themselves talking. Gesser went through to the kitchen to prepare some food whilst Sirius went upstairs to see if Hermione was awake. Both were confident that she would recover within at least a fortnight.

*

*

Harry woke up with a start. But as his thoughts separated into a conscious state, he realised that he had not been sweating. It had not been a nightmare, at all. It had been unusual.

He pulled himself out of bed and changed quickly, pulling on some jeans and an old t-shirt. As he made his way down to breakfast, however, and wished his siblings a good morning, his cricket match that morning was pushed to the back of his mind. One question kept rising to the surface of his mind that he could not answer.

Who in the world was Hermione?

***