Harry Potter and the Fifth Element

Bexis

Story Summary:
Harry's summer and sixth year. Examines H/Hr in context of his unwanted wealth and fame, and her need for independence, requiring them to save one another's lives. H struggles to control a mysterious fifth element, receives an inheritance and finds OC summer romance. Hr knows everything and nothing. The brain encounter changes R. D is dispossessed and vengeful. CC is not what she seems. Featuring H/Hr affinity, Auror training, poor parenting, treaties, really evil Death Eaters, goblins, kidnapping, death, a crash, a fire, an explosion, bribery, funerals, testimony, a Sufi witch, tarot, pensieves, secret engagement, ill-gotten gold, Stonehenge, a succubus, love potion, battles, triads, Druidism, and foreign entanglements.
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Chapter 88 - Interlude In Paradise

Chapter Summary:
Wherein Hermione’s doubts are satisfied, she and Harry take a trip to paradise, they decide to tie the knot, the locals are befriended, invited and uninvited guests attend the wedding, and our heroes do not live happily ever after – not yet.
Posted:
10/31/2012
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4,328
Author's Note:
Hawai’an words: mojo = magic; Kimo = James; da kine = best; pakalolo = marijuana; Haole = Caucasian; makai = seaward, mauka = inland, lilikoi = passion fruit; mo’o = lizard; ali’i = nobility; malihini = stranger; kapu = forbidden; nomojo = Muggle; moana = ocean; wahine = woman; okole = butt; aloha au ia oe = I love you; Pele = Hawai’ian fire goddess; kolohe = rascal; ma’ema’e = clean; kahuna = boss, in this case the village’s mayor; makaha = borderline crazy; akamai = clever; puka = doorway; pau = to be over, done


Wherein Hermione's doubts are satisfied, she and Harry travel to paradise, they decide to tie the knot, locals are befriended, invited and uninvited guests attend the wedding, and our heroes do not live happily ever after - not yet.

Now completed. I don't ask for reviews, but this is the last chance for you to tell me if you liked it (great detail) or hated it (diarrhea of the pen).

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

Thanks one final time to betas Mark Gardiner, Shane, Mathiasgranger, and Chris Backus. Thanks also to all the other betas who assisted me during the writing of this fic.

Beta Mark Gardiner (Coulsdon Eagle) and I deliberately coordinated the near simultaneous completion of our respective fics. If you haven't read his "Hermione Granger and the Goblet of Fire," you should. It's excellent.

Chapter 88 - Interlude In Paradise

The owl's arrival was inconvenient, but its message urgently and eagerly awaited. Strangely, from a passenger's perspective, Muggle airports are quite thoroughly separated from the sky.

Hermione's visit to the loo was interrupted by dissonant sounds from that owl, looking extremely out of place, scratching at a plate glass window between gates 47 and 48 of Heathrow's Terminal Three. Fortunately, the steady stream of Muggles were entirely oblivious, contemplating their own journeys to come.

The owl could not enter - probably a good thing for the rather bewildered bird. Hermione darted into an unoccupied gate. Slipping behind the agent's counter, she uttered a Notice-Me-Not Charm, Confunded the jetway alarm, Alohomoraed its door, and temporarily Vanished one of its windows.

The impatient owl did not wait about - frightened by the alien sounds and odors of Muggle æroplanes.

Its message made Hermione's tentative decision, already thoroughly overthought, incalculably easier. A heavy burden of uncertainty lifted, and she felt like flying - no æroplane necessary.

Harry immediately sensed her more upbeat mood. "What's up, Hermione? After so much moaning about the awful hassles of Muggle airlines, you seem rather happy. Or is flying to Hawai'i different...?"

She silenced him with a kiss, resolutely chaste as they were in public. "I just received an owl," she whispered. "From Healer Huxley...."

"So, you finally have internship assignments?" Harry asked. "You've been fretting...."

"No," Hermione cut across, eyes flashing. "Come with me...."

In her eyes danced an offer Harry could not refuse.

Her swaying hips enticed him to the deserted gate - LAN Chile flew only four dailies from Heathrow, and none so early in the morning. Renewing her Notice-Me-Not, she spoke breathlessly, "Harry, all our luggage is shrunken and in my carry-on bag. Our flight's boarding is still more than an hour off. Apparate us someplace magical and deserted, please? Right now."

"Hermione...?" Harry was still underage.

"I'll explain when we get there," Hermione avoided his unspoken questions. "Please...?"

Her pleading played on his sympathies.

Harry was sunk - incapable of resisting her. "Umm ... okay, Hermione. Whatever you want." With an unnoticed "pop," they Disapparated.

Hermione found herself in a field, overgrown with grass and bushes. Low sun angle and light mist combined to set the sky aglow. "Where are we?"

"Take a sniff," Harry suggested.

The slightly rank maritime odour brought last summer's memories flooding back. "We learnt Apparition here," she deduced.

"On short notice, this is the most likely deserted place I could think of," Harry commented dryly. "Now that we're quite alone, what's going on?"

"I just received Healer Huxley's o-mail," Hermione started explaining. "He's confirmed what I'd suspected...."

Harry wilted a bit. "Your physical therapy's been successful...."

"Oh, no. Too early to pronounce a definitive cure," Hermione told him hastily, "although lately my endorphin and dopamine levels have been well within normal limits, thank you very much. Look!"

She thrust the brief note and its attachment under Harry's nose.

Healer Huxley's post was short and cryptic; allowing only that Hermione's "supposition" concerning the "nature" of the Love Potion that victimised Harry was "typically accurate."

As if she would ever be anything else.

The attachment - a page copied magically from that "Half-Blood Prince" potions textbook Hermione had sent to Hlr. Huxley a month earlier - highlighted one word, "magnetite," appearing in both the ingredient list and brewing instructions.

Hermione took Harry's hand. She seemed almost ... bashful. "You know what that means, don't you?"

"Umm ... yeah," he responded, still feeling that guilty culpability he doubted he would ever fully lose. "You said that magnetic ingredients, like this, could produce geographic ... umm ... effects in potions at Hogwarts."

"That's right, Harry," Hermione confirmed, holding his hand. "Now that's settled. It's been ever more obvious since ... well, since you volunteered to be my personal trainer - not even knowing what that meant...."

"I'd do it again...."

"I know you would," she smirked. "Even without all the sex."

"True," Harry admitted in a slow drawl, "but only you knew that when I volunteered.... So what's been settled?"

"We've been settled...." Words ceased as Hermione leaned in to capture his lips. Ending the kiss, Hermione regarded him intently. Her left hand began on his chest but trailed downward as she continued. "If it's still what you want, I'm ready to take it back. I would have told you once we'd reached...."

Relief and joy spreading across his face, Harry looked utterly gobsmacked. A broad smile took hold as Hermione's declaration sank in. "You mean, you'll marry me...? Again...?"

"Well, we haven't been married before, but otherwise, yes."

"You really will...?" He could not believe his luck. "Really?"

"Yes."

"You want me to marry you?"

From his torso, Hermione's hands plonked themselves on her hips. "Harry, how many times must I say yes?"

The current number finally sufficed to get the message across.

"Oh, Hermione...." He lifted her entirely off the ground and into a passionate, toe-curling, blood-boiling kiss - a kiss that, finally, she could return with equal ardour. Hermione's true feelings, awkwardly under lock and key for weeks, burst loose as her mind finally accepted what her body and soul had already concluded.

Forgiveness.

Love filling her soul to the bursting point.

Despite everything, Hermione knew she loved Harry Potter every bit as much as she ever had. Faith in his goodness finally healed her deepest cuts.

That healing had changed their love - it was stronger somehow - as if tempered by fire. Their relationship had overcome more adversity than either could have imagined on the fateful day that Hermione returned from her Hong Kong exile. Their Château Christmas had been wonderful, but by comparison they had been playing house.

Separating, the pair were surrounded by dramatic proof of their powerful reconciliation. All about, for dozens of metres, a once overgrown meadow was a kaleidoscope of colourful wildflowers, as early summer magically reverted to the height of spring. Like their similar outburst in late autumn, this vernal display vibrantly confirmed the power of their love.

"Umm ... wow!" Harry gasped breathlessly, awed by the beauty (and by her kisses).

"Wow is right," Hermione echoed. "And 'wow' is why we needed to be someplace deserted. Can you imagine the chaos this would have caused in the middle of Heathrow?"

Harry had to agree. "Yeah ... like Interflora exploded all over the terminal. Good thinking, Hermione," he complimented. "They'd have shut it down, with us stuck in London."

Expectantly, Hermione offered her right hand - ring finger extended, willing herself not to tremble. Harry made a show of kissing her hand chivalrously.

"Harry...." Expectantly, Hermione wiggled her unadorned digit.

Harry flushed with embarrassment. "Oh, right...." He reached for his midsection, almost popping his shirt buttons in haste. From his navel he extracted the ring, with its now superfluous garnet. Performing (diligently practiced) goblin spellwork, Harry magicked the gemstones to their original, proper position.

His own hand trembling, he retook her hand. Wishing to say something profound, Harry wracked his brain but could not string together anything remotely appropriate. Finally, Harry sank to one knee and murmured, haltingly, "With this ring ... I hope ... I'll wed thee." He returned the ring to her finger.

"Oh, Harry," she pulled him to his feet and kissed him all over again.

Her kisses had the expected effect. "Umm ... as we're in the middle of nowhere, Hermione, would you be interested in ... you know ... and not as a personal trainer anymore...."

With a wry look, she gestured to the surrounding wildflowers. "Not here, Harry. This is Auror property, and undoubtedly someone will investigate our little magical discharge. Besides, we don't have that much time before takeoff.... A 'quickie' isn't how to celebrate our re-engagement."

"Well, okay."

"...But remember what you said," she poked her newly adorned ring finger in his chest. "You're not just my personal trainer anymore, so don't use that sorry excuse again...."

She grinned, and so did Harry. His "personal trainer" role, their original pretext for resuming sexual relations, had created something of a bone of contention. Harry refused to let Hermione gratify him - asserting his limited "trainer" role. That excuse was now inoperative.

Harry could not be happier, nor Hermione.

Minutes after the re-engaged couple returned to Heathrow, they wished they had not. A loudspeaker's disembodied voice announced, for no apparent (let alone disclosed) reason, a half-hour departure delay. A proper, extended, celebratory dalliance would have been possible after all.

Harry muttered darkly about buying or chartering his own plane instead of using Muggle airlines.

Hermione sought out the gate agent. She returned, frustrated and inclined to agree with Harry, after being fobbed off with a vacuous excuse blaming "air traffic control."

Fortunately, Air Canada's violation of its contract of carriage was (for once) limited to that single, unexplained delay. Boarding proceeded smoothly - Dumbledore's legacy included two first-class tickets. Hermione had low-powered Muggle Repelling and Confundus Charms on her beaded bag, their only luggage besides a couple of books. Hermione had purchased A Brief History of Time in an airport shop, whilst Harry had finally decided to read Tonks' Christmas present, Michener's novel Hawai'i.

After a left turn to first class, Harry busied himself trying to reset his watch eight hours earlier on Vancouver time. He gave up because at this hour of the morning he would also have to change the date.

Ever-organised, Hermione tried replacing their scanned boarding passes in their envelope of travel documents. The binder was no longer empty.

She looked inside. "Wait a minute, what's this?"

"What?" Harry peered over. "When did that get there?"

A roll of parchment, wrapped in Dumbledore's distinctive purple and green ribbons, nestled inside, as if present all along.

"This wasn't here when I removed the tickets," Hermione clucked. "I would never miss something like this."

"Must have been timed," Harry offered. "Maybe the scanning ... so we were definitely going. Let's see what his last words were...."

The expected dramatic epitaph was absent. Rather than an organised valedictory, Harry and Hermione found a series of jottings in the deceased Headmaster's distinctive loopy handwriting:

I shall die willingly.

Appearances are often deceiving. You must trust Severus Snape.

Harry's reaction was like sitting on one of the Weasley Twins' Fanged Whoopee Cushions. His firmly fastened seatbelt thwarted his jumping to his feet, resulting in his scattering a small bowl of cashews provided by the overly attentive first-class attendants. "What the...! Snape?!"

'Harry, don't cause a scene,' Hermione Legilimenced. 'Think about it....'

'I have,' Harry thought back hotly, his eyes flashing. 'A lot. Neville said Malfoy killed Dumbledore in cold blood, with Snape at his shoulder, and Snape didn't raise a finger to stop it.'

'But according to Neville, Dumbledore also insisted upon drinking that poison in the cave,' Hermione replied mentally, trying to calm her fiancé. 'Maybe he was ready to die - maybe Snape collaborated in....'

'Connived is more like it,' Harry thought sourly.

'All I'm saying is keep an open mind....'

'About Snape?'

'Yes, about Snape. He was a double agent - you know that. Just respect Dumbledore's last wish here, and ask Healer Huxley when we get back.'

Harry went along with Hermione, as the next handwritten line read:

Show this to Parry Huxley. He will tell you what you need to know.

The next page bore the Headmaster's cryptic paraphrase of part of a well-known Muggle poem:

Turning and turning in the widening gyre,

If the phoenix cannot hear the phoenixier, then

Things will fall apart, and the centre cannot hold.

"What's that about?" Harry asked Hermione.

Her brow furrowed for a moment. "Yeats," Hermione identified. "I think, for once, Dumbledore saw fit to comment on your private matters, Harry."

Harry did not understand. "My private matters?"

"Yes," Hermione reiterated, lowering her voice to a whisper. "In life I suppose he felt constrained in offering advice on ... well ... romantic interests. But in the hereafter.... In his typical indirect fashion...."

"I'll say," Harry shrugged. "It's so indirect, I have no idea what he's on about."

"You've never read Yeats, then."

"Right in one."

"It's like the Order," Hermione suggested. "You're the phoenixier...."

Recognition lit up Harry's face. "And ... and you're the phoenix."

"That's my surmise," Hermione went on. "This poem was his way...."

"Of telling me I was an arse and a bloody fool ever to let you go," Harry finished the thought.

"Not exactly how he'd probably phrase it - but in essence, yes," Hermione agreed.

The last of the three pages bore only two words - at the top....

The Chamber.

Maybe Dumbledore had been interrupted, because the rest was blank.

Almost.

Harry missed the notation at the bottom of Dumbledore's note, but Hermione was more observant.

K3[Fe(CN)6].

Hermione spotted the chemical formula. "Dumbledore has something else to tell you, or us, Harry." Resorting to Legilimency, she added, 'Something quite secret ... probably about the Chamber of Secrets. Any ideas...?'

For a long moment Harry's face was blank, then comprehension dawned. It was not a happy moment.

'What, Harry?'

Looking pained, Harry shook his head.

'You need to let it out, Harry,' Hermione soothed. 'I'll help you. I love you.'

'There's one thing ... even you don't know. Dumbledore moved....' Harry looked tragic. Hermione snaked her arm around him and drew him closer - as close as she could, since the æroplane was taxiing, and the first-class console separated their seats.

'It's okay....'

Harry swallowed and finally expressed his guess. 'My parents' bodies are hidden there, and....'

'...He's telling you exactly where....'

'I don't suppose you've any in your bag, there.'

'Now, even I'm not that compulsive, Harry,' Hermione replied, rolling her eyes. 'Next time I will, though. Count on it.'

Once airborne, the pair eventually turned to their latest occasion for planning - a wedding of their own.

"At the Château," Harry suggested. "How about midnight on 31 July ... the moment I'm of age...."

"That sounds wonderful, Harry, but...." She paused, marshalling her Gryffindor courage.

Harry fidgeted. Finally, both simultaneously blurted the same thought.

"I don't want a fancy wedding."

"I'd much rather not be excessive."

"You don't?" each echoed. Staring at one another, each waited for the other to elaborate.

Finally, Hermione smiled and took the lead, reverting to Legilimency. 'I never expected to get married. I mean, who'd want...? Then you came along. You ... well, Voldemort's out there, and I'd rather not provide another target. For some reason, he put a lot of time and effort into keeping us apart. Now that he's failed....'

'You think he might attack?' Harry's concern was obvious.

'I wouldn't be surprised. I've never enjoyed society weddings anyway. My family dragged me to a few. You...?'

'I'm sick and tired of being on display, I guess,' Harry admitted. 'I want the happiest day of my life to be happy, not hectic. I was miserable at the Beauxbatons Ball, and if it's okay with you, I'd rather not do it again - to myself.'

'So what don't you want?'

'I don't want any reception.'

'I don't want an impractical and expensive white dress. The symbolism isn't even accurate, thanks to you....'

'I don't want churches or organ music.'

'I don't want bridesmaids.'

'I don't want scores of guests. That only emphasises the family I don't have.'

'Same here, Harry.'

By the time the pair stopped to gawk at the brilliantly white Greenland ice cap, gleaming below in the daylong June sun, their planned nuptials had become quite intimate, indeed.

They would be wed at the Château on Harry's seventeenth birthday, but not at midnight - a concession to their few invited guests' sensibilities: Ron, Luna, Neville, Jazzy, Tonks, Remus, Hagrid, Dobby, Shak....

And Hermione's mother.

Eva Granger had sworn she would come all the way from Perth, Australia for her daughter's wedding.

"Your mum?" Harry asked, sounding hesitant. "When did that happen?"

Hermione felt obligated, despite her mum's horrid conduct towards Harry. "The last time we talked - before she left for Australia - she gave us her blessing, and I promised she could attend our wedding."

He could hardly deny Hermione that, regardless of his own feelings.

Hermione's father went unmentioned. He had fled both the scene and her thoughts.

Not even Hermione could persuade Harry to invite his own relatives.

"The Dursleys? Maybe Dudley, but I'd rather not see the rest of those money-grubbing bastards ever again."

Harry also decided to tell Bladvak, the goblin he knew best, about the wedding. Although only an honourary goblin royal family member, it would not be kosher (or the Gobbledegook equivalent) for him to marry without informing King Ragnok, his honourary father.

Goblins were Harry's only concession to politics. No wizard politician would be invited, not even Arthur Weasley ... except for Shak, but as Harry's guardian, he was different.

Blackie Howe could handle legal details. The day before, they would venture into Manchester, the nearest sizeable Muggle city to Blackwalls, and have a registrar issue the necessary civil marriage licence. The appropriate officiant for magical rites was harder, until one of Hermione's Eureka moments made the choice embarrassingly obvious.

'Harry, let's have Luna do it - she's the Druid High Priestess now. I'll bet she's authorised,' Hermione Legilimenced.

'Luna Lovegood ... marry us?' Harry's thought betrayed silent befuddlement. 'She's not even of age herself."

'Age isn't everything, Harry. I should know. Besides, the Druids won't care, with the recent restoration of the office,' Hermione pressed. 'Even if they do, whoever's training her can help with the official bits.'

'That's ... that's brilliant!' Harry was converted. 'She'll keep out the religious BS.'

Plans for a stealth wedding - a fait accompli before the Wizarding World ever learnt of their engagement - thus took shape.

Somewhat later, at 39,000 feet above Hudson's Bay, Hermione broached the symbolically important name issue. "Harry, we touched on this before, but for me it's serious. I don't want to give up my surname. I don't believe in that. But I don't mind losing my middle name. I don't recall nana Jane, anyway. She died when I was two."

Harry's eyes burned. "Hermione, I was also serious. I'll change my name to marry you. If you want me to take Granger ... I'll do it - even though your father ... well, we never got along."

"I'd never make you do that," Hermione quickly demurred. "Besides, imagine the uproar from extinguishing the Potter family name ... especially in favor of my Muggle surname. It might be even worse than the sexual role issue."

"Like I give a damn. Middle name then - like you?"

"I don't want you to do anything you might later regret. James links you to your father...."

As usual, Hermione was on target. Still, the asymmetry bothered him. "Name changes should be reciprocal, shouldn't they?"

"Yes, but...," Hermione trailed off. "Why drop anything? Think about Dumbledore."

Not sure of her logic, Harry asked, "What about Dumbledore?"

"He had more names than almost anyone," Hermione pointed out. "Why not you?"

Harry blinked. "You mean, just add another?"

"Why not? If you want another, just do it."

"Hmmm ... okay," Harry decided. "Harry James Hermione Potter it is, then."

"Harry! That's silly; be serious!"

"I am serious," Harry protested. "I don't want 'Granger' in my name; but I love 'Hermione' - because that's you. It's you I'm marrying, not your crooked father."

"But...." Sighing, Hermione gave in. How could she, a feminist, object to Harry adding a feminine name? "All right, Harry. I'll go along, if it's really what you want."

"Names aren't the point." Then he added the winning line. "All I really want is you."

* * * *

Hermione spent their Vancouver layover reading peacefully in Air Canada's first-class passenger lounge.

After a quarter-hour, Harry closed his Michener and mumbled something about being hungry. Not content just to graze at the airline's free spread, when Harry returned some time later, he carried a Hudson News bag.

Harry sat back down next to Hermione. She thought nothing of the crinkling noises until she turned and saw Harry jam two garishly pink slabs of Muggle bubblegum into his mouth.

She looked a little askance. "Harry, you've never chewed gum in all the years I've known you."

"True," he admitted. "Until becoming your personal trainer." His lecherous glance would have dissolved her from within, had he kept it up. "Decided after the first session - you remember that - that my tongue and jaw needed exercise."

"Harry!"

"Well, it's true - and you asked," he smirked. His wicked grin returned. "Tell me, has it worked?"

"Oh, sweet Merlin, yes."

"Want these?" he asked. "They're something like Muggle versions of Chocolate Frog cards. What's an Alex Rodriguez 'rookie card'?"

Hermione took the card and examined it. "Apparently, a baseball player - that's sort of like rounders. He plays for the Seattle team, which is in America, not far from here."

"Ah," Harry nodded. "Muggle sports, like football. Here's another from the same team, Griffey, father and son.... You want 'em?"

"No, not really."

"Me neither," Harry shrugged. "I reckon I'll leave them here. The gum's more important."

Hermione relaxed against him. "Immeasurably...," she purred.

* * * *

Courtesy of diluted Dreamless Sleep Potion, most of their second leg across the Pacific from Vancouver to Honolulu passed insensate, save occasional interruptions by extremely attentive flight attendants. It would not do to be unrousable in the æroplane, so Hermione had reduced the potion's soporific effect.

Hermione wondered about the Yanks and their forms. Why would tourists carry algae, bacterial cultures, or live fish?

Even with extra sleep, they emerged thoroughly jet lagged into the late Hawai'ian afternoon - a full twelve hours behind London. Semi-consciously they passed through American customs. Their luggage was shrunken and stowed in Hermione's beaded bag, so Uncle Sam's minions had precious little to rummage through. The charms Hermione cast on her bag ensured smooth, uneventful passage.

Worries about finding the Honolulu equivalent of Platform Nine and Three Quarters vanished as they exited customs. Lounging nearby was a profoundly bronze-skinned young man in turquoise cut-offs and a blindingly colourful open-necked shirt. He held a handmade "Potter-Granger" sign.

Briskly, Hermione identified them to their - escort, driver, or whatever. "We're Potter-Granger."

The sign-holder eyed them sceptically. "You all da way from England?"

"That's us."

"Umm ... da ones what spendin' a week at da Polynesian Confederation conf'rence in Kauai?"

Irritated, Harry broke in. "Yes, let's go."

"You gots no cargo - not for all dat."

"Cargo?"

"Stuff.... Da ... luggage ... bags."

"Oh you're wondering why we don't have suitcases," Hermione comprehended. Around them, heavily laden passengers streamed from the international port of entry.

"Yah, dat's it."

"We have plenty of luggage," Harry told him. "You just can't see it."

"Ah," the Polynesian accepted the explanation and flashed him a sign like a fist, but with the thumb and little finger extended. "Mo bettah mojo ... good. Dis way, den. I'm Kimo, your guide and pilot for today."

He led them through the busy airport until reaching a section under construction - airports are always under construction. He lifted a strip of yellow barricade tape. As Harry and Hermione passed under, they felt the frisson of a ward crossing, probably of the Muggle-Repelling variety.

They left behind the Muggle maze of concrete and glass. Turning a corner, they came to a grassy field, shaded by tall palm trees swaying gently in tropic breezes. An impenetrable tangle of greenery shielded the field from Muggle eyes. The thicket was perhaps five metres high and bedecked with innumerable yellow, orange, and red flowers.

The field felt almost Levantine, dotted with numerous flying carpets, many Persian in design. Harry and Hermione watched another rug settle gently onto the grass, with four people aboard.

Quite unlike England, magic carpets were preferred transportation in Hawai'i.

"Aloha!" Kimo turned and greeted them with a broad smile. "Welcome to magical Hawai'i, Mista Potter and Miz Granger."

"Umm, that's 'Hermione Potter'," Harry replied with a straight face.

Hermione immediately played along. "And that's Potter Granger," she added.

Their guide shrugged, never losing his sunny smile. "An' dese are for you Mista-Miz Harry Hermione Grangers an' Potters." He pointed some type of seashell at a nearby stand, and two leis flew forth. Harry received a garland of ti leaves and shark teeth. Hermione's was fluffier - yellow plumeria, purple orchids, and kukui nuts - with a Permanent Cooling Charm to keep it fresh.

"Dis one's yours," Kimo gestured towards a carpet, about two metres across and three long. Like several in the landing zone, it was mostly green with a yellow centre design that somewhat resembled a flower.

Harry held back, having never travelled by flying carpet. Hermione, imitating other travelers, extracted her two suitcases and Harry's trunk from her beaded bag and piled them on the carpet.

"Whoa," Kimo gasped, goggling. "Dat's da kine mojo. Fo sure you wen beat da Man Sam's customs, yeh?"

"What?" Hermione asked, puzzled. Avoiding customs had never crossed her mind. She carried no contraband, only various enchanted items that, under wizard law, must be concealed from Muggles.

That - and neither fancied waiting for Muggle baggage carousels.

"Iffa you want, de pakalolo dudes on de island really be interested in doin' dat," Kimo suggested, pinching two fingers to his mouth, pursing his lips, and making an exaggerated sucking sound.

Harry took umbrage. "No way I'd ever...!" He still blamed his being stoned for Eliza's death.

"Harry, don't, you're tired," Hermione intervened, calming him down.

"No worries, brah," Kimo backed off, hands raised in a peaceful gesture. "Nuthin' doin', nohow."

Feeling rather guilty at his presumptuousness, Kimo seated his passengers and lifted off as soon as possible. He decided on the scenic route. He swept out over Pearl Harbor and the Muggles' gleaming white Arizona Memorial, and then inland so these English tourists could get a close view of the Waianae Range, with its thousand metre-plus peaks.

England had no mountains worthy of the name, he thought.

That was not true of Scotland, where Harry and Hermione spent most of their time.

Kimo was a bit disappointed that the mountains' dense vegetation impressed his passengers more than their height.

'I'll show 'em.' He guided the carpet, carefully charmed for both safety and Muggle concealment, over Oahu's north shore and out to sea.

En route to Kauai, Harry and Hermione learnt a bit of Hawai'ian magical history. Hawai'ian magic was organic; travelling with Polynesian shamans to the islands. No separation between magic and Muggle divided the original human settlers - magic was essential to their navigation.

Separation emerged later, and never to the extent in Britain and the rest of Europe. Only after Haoles arrived, with religious hostility to magic, was separation instituted.

That proved to be a good thing.

Not quite a century ago, a cabal of Haole farmers and missionaries overthrew the Hawai'ian monarchy. Eventually the Americans annexed the Islands.

Hawai'ian wizardry were never subjugated. Any American wizards in Hawai'i back then stayed well hidden. Relations with the American ministry began much later, and always at arms length. To this day, magical Hawai'i remained proudly independent. The Kanaka Maoli flag, and no other, flew proudly over the airport's magical enclave. The same pre-annexation insignia emblazoned the Hawai'ian ministry carpet they rode.

The Hawai'ian history lesson took Harry and Hermione to the shores of Kauai, and beyond. Kimo gave another grand tour, along the south shore beaches and inland through a massive red, green, and black hued canyon, the likes of which - this time - these visitors had never seen.

After an exhilarating, cliff-hugging climb leaving the canyon, the flying carpet swooped through mixed late afternoon sun and clouds only a few metres above an expanse of seemingly impenetrable high-altitude jungle and swamp.

Until the bottom dropped out.

Suddenly, without warning, the carpet went from skimming over tangled treetops to half a kilometre off the ground, hovering high above a brilliantly green valley floor caressed by the setting sun's rays.

"Merlin! Will you look at that!?"

Kimo smiled; some things were guaranteed to impress anyone.

Nothing prepared the guests for the sudden drop-off, or that instead of bare rock; these cliffs were green - bedecked with bracken ferns and other vegetation clinging prolifically to almost perpendicular faces. Far below, pale dots, white-tailed tropic birds they later learnt, circled serenely.

Harry had nearly plummetted to his death from a sheer Scottish cliff less than two hundred metres high. These cliffs were what ... four times that?

Kimo lazily steered the carpet until it faced the precipitous cliffs. Soon they drifted maybe twenty metres away from these roughhewn ramparts.

"Where ... are we?" Hermione asked as she loosened her traveling cloak. The high forest air had been surprisingly cool, especially with clouds. Here, warm air rising from the sun-kissed valley restored a tropical temperature.

"Aloha from De Valley of de Lost Tribe," Kimo grinned. "You be spending de week down dere."

The sheer cliffs were rent by waterfalls - some active, others dry, all nameless. They eroded the rock vertically, every couple dozen metres, creating a fluted effect - a veritable curtain of green - from the back of the hidden valley almost to the sea.

They saw no sign of human habitation.

"Excuse me, but where's the village?" Hermione inquired impatiently.

"Der's da kine concealment wards in de Lost Tribe," Kimo responded with a shrug. From a flap in the carpet he produced two pairs of ... something approximating old-time aviator goggles.

"Put dese on and den say wot you see."

A well-kept village blinked into view - several substantial buildings, including a conference center, surrounded well over a hundred smaller structures. Patches of flooded fields indicated agricultural activity.

The sun was flat on the horizon as they landed. Hermione had Harry watch for a green flash, but none materialised, most likely (she said) due to high north-shore waves.

The tropical sun sets quickly, so they left registration in complete darkness. A Polynesian Confederation of Covens guest Portkey delivered them to their deluxe hut at the back of the valley.

"Hut," or "hale" in Hawai'ian, did not do justice to their accommodations. Powerful Rain Repelling Charms augmented the thatched roof. In erratic weather, adjustable Heating/Cooling Charms could control temperature. Large Flutterby Bushes, growing naturally in the tropical environment, separated their hale from the others. Their quivering branches beckoned to the newcomers.

The hale's walls were swathed in fragrant umbrella-sized hibiscus - a riotous mixture of pink, yellow, red, orange, lavender, and white. On command, these flowers opened and closed, blocking or allowing breezes. The hale mostly lacked exterior walls, so this vegetation provided privacy. The only solid walls were two metres of black lava blocks at the rear, supporting the roof and concealing the plumbing. A flagstone deck by the side door offered a recessed multi-person spa. Geckos and colourful Hawai'ian spiders, charmed to avoid humans, eradicated mosquitoes and other insect pests.

The hale also featured a convenient minibar, or so Harry assumed from his Neuschwanstein experience. When Hermione opened it, expecting three-ounce booze bottles and bags of sweets, she found the cabinet - much larger inside than out - filled with bowls of fruit and nuts of all descriptions, cut pineapple, mango slices, papaya cubes, kiwi sections, strawberries, macadamias, cashews, and much more. The door held an extensive array of Fruitopia flavours and bottled water. Pastel-coloured mochi balls, stuffed with ice cream, filled the freezer. Anyone with a salt craving could gorge on Portuguese black bean soup, kalua pig, or (of all things) Spam.

The immediate question was who was hungry for what?

The bed was ... evidently an issue....

The event staff declined to speculate about the couple's sleeping preferences. They left a note on their front door detailing spells and wand taps that merged separate beds, or vice versa - complete with proper Hawai'ian pronunciations.

That was a no-brainer.

Chilled potions waiting on the nightstand offered another choice. One option was guava-flavoured Dreamless Sleep Potion; the other lilikoi-flavoured Pepper-Up Potion.

They had been travelling for more than twenty-four hours.

Holding the potions in either hand, Hermione asked Harry. "Which do you want?"

"Hermione, we haven't had any time to ourselves since you agreed, again, to marry me despite everything I did....

Harry saw Hermione frown.

Time for a mid-course correction.

"...everything that happened to you. For every waking moment since, I've wanted nothing more than now - to have you to myself. Evanesco!"

The Dreamless Sleep Potion vanished.

"Excellent choice, Harry."

Likewise a no-brainer.

"Come here, you.... No more excuses about just being my personal trainer.... Evanesco!"

"Hey, I might need those clothes!"

"You've more - I helped you pack, remember. You watched." Her beaded bag lay on the floor by their bed. She bent over and opened it, fishing.

"Evanesco!"

"Harry...! Well, I suppose turnabout is fair play...."

"Just don't turnabout quite yet." Her most intimate places peeking - almost winking - at him through that delightful little cleft just below her arse made Harry almost painfully hard. "I can still do that bit with my tongue, you know."

"As can I.... There." She stood and faced him in all her disrobed glory - holding what resembled a Muggle spray can in her right hand.

"Wow ... umm ... what's that....?"

"A little going away present from the Twins; courtesy of Weasley's Wanton Witches. Now, what do I like best ... chocolate sauce, whipped cream, caramel, or cherry pie filler...?"

"Oh, Merlin...."

"Or maybe all of the above?"

Perhaps forty-five minutes later, an intense pink flash jolted the most mauka (landward) of Honopu's guest hales. The roof survived, thanks to the hale's permeable walls. Umbrella-sized hibiscus blossoms flapped madly in the magical tempest.

Afterwards, all was still once more.

* * * *

Felicitously, the Seventh Pacific Basin Magical Cooperation Gathering ran on Hawai'ian time, meaning the hosts were not early risers. Opening ceremonies commenced at noon. Long before then Hermione slipped free of a soundly sleeping Harry's arms and, clad only in a colourful guest kimono, crept outside to examine the spa.

The fleeting tropical dawn was breaking. From the depths of the almost vertical northwest-facing valley, visible evidence was limited to pinkish clouds floating above the towering cliffs. Persistent shadows meant less sunlight, so the thick forest of the valley's wider makai (seaward) reaches thinned considerably.

The nearest cliff face rose less than twenty metres away. A green wall of vegetation thickly shrouded its black lava mass, broken only by dark vertical stripes kept clear by intermittent waterfalls. The volume of falling water abated overnight - summer was relatively dry - and most nearer cataracts no longer flowed constantly. Constant breezes along the upper cliff faces shredded these smaller falls' remnants, filling the air with light mist.

As the unseen sun rose, the valley's deep viridian shadows lightened. Broken only by occasional trees, the thickest, softest moss Hermione had ever seen or felt carpeted the ground. Forsaking the grass-woven, one-person flying guest mats, she walked the faint footpath towards the very back of the valley. Through the cool of the morning Hermione wandered, moss tickling her bare feet and refreshing mist moistening her face and hair. She followed the path until the gorge curved slightly eastward to bring into view the terminal waterfall at back of the valley - hundreds of meters high. Higher still, the sun's slanting rays set the tips of the cathedral-like cliffs alight in brilliant lime.

If not paradise, this place was closer to it than anywhere in the world.

Retracing her steps, she briefly refreshed with a Beachside Blast from their anything-but-minibar. Shedding her kimono, she wriggled back into bed beside Harry. Sensing her whilst asleep, he grunted and rolled onto his back so she could snuggle into his side. Rule number one - whilst sleeping together, never wear clothes.

She lay next to him, comfortable with his warmth, but unable to fall to sleep. Instead, she thought ... about her, Harry, their oft-threatened love, and this place....

Her mind was made up before Harry awoke.

Gradually he began stirring. He mumbled something ... that for once sounded contented. He would rouse soon - she had slept with him enough to know his tendencies.

"Harry, I'd like to do it here," she whispered in his ear.

His eyes popped open at the thought of getting lucky so early.... "What? Oh. Sure.... Let me hit the loo first...."

Once Harry returned, Hermione informed him that she meant more than another round of mind - and magic - blowing sex. "Harry, I'd like to be married here. It's the most serene, beautiful place I've ever seen. I don't want to wait until England."

That focussed Harry. "Wow, Hermione. That's sudden.... No, I mean I'd love to, but the Ministry.... I'm underage, and they'll try to interfere. That's why we decided to wait for my birthday in the first place."

"Then we won't tell them."

"We won't?"

"No, we won't," Hermione repeated. "I've thought this over. I'm sure the Hawai'ians will happily marry us. I mean, honestly, they offered to help me conceive. We don't tell Arthur or any other wizard and postpone our return flight for a few days. We'll use your BoE card to rebook from a Muggle town. I can call Mum. Once the Ministry delegation leaves, we get married - right here - the back of this valley is amazing. Then we stay mum until your birthday. We can have a second, civil ceremony back home, but here is where I want to become your wife...."

"Okay ... the sooner the better.... But what about our friends?" Harry wondered. "Flying over, we spent so much time deciding whom to invite."

"I hadn't seen this place yet," Hermione pleaded. "We can have the Château ceremony we'd planned. But ... come on; put on a robe. You haven't seen everything in daylight, yet. It's amazingly beautiful."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Then I've a job to do," Harry declared. He pulled a small earthenware phial from his luggage.

"What's that?" Hermione asked.

"Mad-Eye's ashes," Harry replied. "I had Shak retrieve them when I knew we were coming here. He requested that they be scattered somewhere peaceful and pretty."

Hermione sighed. "He won't be disappointed."

They both dressed - appropriate since the village was beginning to stir. The locals' attention fixed on the conference's long-awaited start, not on the valley's largely uninhabited far reaches.

"Wow!" Harry's reaction matched Hermione's when regarding the collection of waterfalls at the back of Honopu Valley. The mist thickened, as did the moss, where the valley narrowed to a mere ten metres, surrounded by jungle covered cliffs far taller than any tower at Hogwarts.

"So you'd like to get married here, too?" she sought confirmation.

"Yeah, this is awesome," Harry agreed, "but we'll need bathing costumes if we stay for more than a few minutes."

"We don't have them, but do you ... umm ... want to stay for more than a few minutes?"

"Hermione, what do you...?" His question became superfluous as Hermione shed her damp clothes and, holding only her wand, scampered for the large pool at the base of the main falls.

Harry needed no further convincing. He stripped down and followed, only to pull up abruptly after a few steps. Near the pool's edge, moss gave way to bare rock, not suitable for bare feet. Hermione, he noticed, had Transfigured a soft pathway to the water. He doubled back, followed her footsteps, and dove in.

After a half-hour's diversion, Harry turned serious. He ended the Shrinking Charm on Mad-Eye's cremated remains and solemnly poured them into the stream that exited the pond. Hermione regretted not bringing her violin to Hawai'i.

Another promise redeemed, the pair donned clothes as thoroughly soaked as themselves - not bothering to charm them dry - having ticked off another adventure on Hermione's mental bucket list. Hermione had seen idyllic Hawai'ian travel pictures of deserted waterfall pools, and had intended to make love with Harry in one. She had arrived with no idea where to look.

For once they stood Sod's Law on its head. Something finally turned out to be much easier than Hermione expected.

* * * *

The schedule they inherited from Dumbledore's was both light on mandatory commitments and full of free time. One of Harry's and Hermione's few obligations was to attend the Convening of the Covens - the opening ceremony where all attendees were welcomed and formally introduced.

Both wore the muumuu-weight robes favored by the locals. Plenty of heads turned when Harry was introduced. The story of his Basilisk-related derring-do had reached as far as the Polynesian Covens, albeit it in rather garbled fashion.

Basilisks were unknown in these parts. Instead, Harry was reputed to have single-handedly dispatched a huge mo'o - taking a page from local mythology.

During this see-and-be-seen event, Harry and Hermione spotted the woman they hoped to find; she of the imposing, and mostly forgotten, name. Luckily, she remembered them more precisely than they, her.

"Unh.... Hello, Miss...."

"Harry! Hermione! I was hoping to welcome you personally. You probably don't remember me ... Hi'iaka Kupaianaha. I'm currently liaison for the Confederation, so you can even say that this is part of my job...."

Knowing her name was difficult for non-Hawai'ians, she volunteered it.

"...Are you enjoying yourselves so far?"

"Oh, absolutely," Hermione replied effusively. "Never better, in fact."

"This place really is paradise," Harry chimed in happily, but Hermione sensed nervousness in his inflexion.

Hi'iaka exuded her perky, can-I-help-you persona for the Gathering. "Great! What are you planning to do now?"

"Well, I think I'll stay and observe some of the plenary ... you know, learn the major issues...."

Harry's eyes glazed over; even anticipating the event seemed boring.

Hermione knew that instinctively. "...That's not really Harry's cup of tea. I think he'd rather do something else...."

"Anything, actually."

"Well, Harry might enjoy an afternoon on the beach. The locals - boys around his age - surf after most of the Muggle boats leave.... I wouldn't ordinarily recommend ... he's Haole ... but Harry being Harry; he could handle any problems.... Anyway, if I can help you with anything, let me know...."

Hermione squeezed out, "Actually, there is."

Hi'iaka's eyes lit up. She saw how fidgety they both acted. "Umm ... what is it?"

"Can we talk in private?"

"It's important."

"I'll bet," the young Hawai'ian responded. "I'm on duty now but have a break coming up. How about, in fifteen minutes in...." She consulted a red, yellow, and green event calendar. "...room 124. It won't be used for the rest of the day."

Harry almost missed the appointment. The French observer delegation (France had interests in Tahiti and New Caledonia) descended on him, full of questions about Basilisks and his upcoming training with their elite wizard commandos. The price of being diplomatic meant that Harry escaped with only a minute to spare.

Fortunately, the French spared Hermione. She used the time well and located the room in question.

They reached Room 124 less than thirty seconds before Hi'iaka arrived. Once inside Hermione locked and Imperturbed the door.

"What's so hush-hush?" the Hawai'ian asked with great interest.

"This must stay secret," Harry impressed upon her. "If my Ministry gets wind of this, my enemies might try to seize control of my life. I've just escaped one wizard's thumb. I'm not keen to go under another's."

Hermione answered the main question. "We want to get married - here. With Harry still under age, we need a secret ceremony."

"Wow!" was the only possible response. "What brought this on?"

"A lot of things," Harry took up the narrative. "The back of the valley, behind our hale, is so beautiful with the green cliffs, the amazing waterfalls, and the soft moss underfoot. When we saw it this morning, we knew this was where we want to pledge ourselves to each other."

"We'd like to stay about three days longer, and get married after the Conference ends and the foreign delegations depart," Hermione explained. "We love Arthur Weasley, but his knowing would put him in an impossible situation - caught between his official position and his relationship with us."

"I'm sure we can arrange something," Hi'iaka reassured - despite feeling far from certain. She was suddenly privy to the biggest secret in these parts since the Americans broke the Japanese naval code. "Of course we're discreet. Most of us think you British are only marginally less arrogant than the Americans."

"So you'll help us?"

"Of course," she smiled. "But don't set your hearts too much on the back of this valley. You saw how damp it is. That much activity would likely ruin the moss and create a sea of mud."

Harry looked downcast. Hermione looked ready to research moss-preservation spells.

"Besides, you haven't seen our ali'i wedding site one valley over," she went on cheerily. "If you liked these waterfalls, you'll positively adore that spot. I guarantee it."

"I'd love to see it," Hermione agreed instantly.

"The valley to the east is called Kalalau. It's much bigger and shared with Muggles, so our Kahuna will have to arrange things. It's best in the afternoon, anyway." Smiling brightly, Hi'iaka clasped her hands together and fairly bounced on her heels. "Ooh, this is going to be so much fun...."

* * * *

Harry predictably found the conference profoundly boring. An Ashrak it was not. Hermione, on the other hand, was quite fascinated by the gathering and all the exotic magical cultures.

Harry excused himself and decided to do some running - to keep fit for nocturnal adventures with Hermione, he rationalised. He took the smooth metalled path leading to the mouth of the hanging valley. Jogging was easy except for the final couple hundred metres, which dropped dizzily. Alongside the stream's roaring cascade, Harry navigated a steep and rocky descent to the beach.

The beach was amazing. The stream had carved a gigantic natural stone arch at least ten metres high in the middle. The sand was scorching hot in the bright sunlight, so Harry soaked his trainers wading the stream. Distracted by otherworldly scenery, he did not initially notice his audience.

A group of the local boys, Harry's age or younger, lounged out of the hot sun on the makai side of the arch.

One of them, with long dreadlocks, addressed Harry sharply. "'Ey cuz! Haole boy! Wot you doing on our beach, malihini?"

"Bored with the conference," Harry answered warily. "Thought I'd see what the beach was like. I'm not disappointed, I tell you."

"Not disappointed, eh?" another replied with a chuckle. "Where you from?"

"Britain ... that is England."

"Well come on over mistah Britain," the first one gestured. "Mebbe we g'wine gib you some o' dis...."

As Harry approached, he saw smoke curling from something in the boy's hand. He recognised the odor. It definitely was not tobacco.

"Umm ... no thanks," Harry turned down the splif. "I'm not into that."

"K den, wot you inta, cuz," a third boy asked, standing up. They all wore long board bathing costumes, t-shirts cut-off at mid-chest, and what looked like rubber sandals. Harry was in jogging shorts, a half-buttoned aloha shirt, and soggy trainers.

An epinephrine rush shot through Harry's body. He realised he was outnumbered eight to one ... and without his wand.

"Umm ... magic, really," Harry replied, looking around. He spotted another type of long board propped against the rock. "You blokes surfing?"

"Blokes? Wassa 'bloke'?"

"Not yet, brah," the one who originally hailed Harry shook his head. If this crew had a leader, he was it. "Choke with de nomojos. Mebbe later. You do dat Haole mojo den? Where's yo wand, malihini?"

"Didn't bring it."

"Don' got it?" the voices became less friendly. "So how you g'wine make mojo den?"

"Like beef, Haole?"

Harry had to do something. The pack of Polynesians around him was getting increasingly aggressive. They could attack - either magically or physically. With his extensive defence training, Harry was confident he could take any number of them; but a brawl would hardly be diplomatic. Discretion was much better than valour.

"Like this." Harry replied. A wandless swish of his right hand Levitated all of their surfboards. Twisting his left hand, he set the hovering boards twirling in midair.

"Ai yah! Look wot he wen do. Dat's da kine, brah," the nearest boy backed off, sounding impressed. "What's yo name Haole boy?"

"Harry Potter."

"Sheeut. Fo real?"

"Right on, brah! Alohaz!"

"Wanna go surf, brah?" the dreadlocked boy asked.

Instantly, matters improved immeasurably. The locals all wanted to surf. Concealment Charms could hide them, but too many Muggle boats sailed too close into shore. Invisible or not, slamming broadside into a boat was dangerous.

"Can't you cast a Muggle Repelling Charm?"

"Dat's kapu - not on da water."

"On de nomojos? Don' know how."

"De moana's too big."

"Let me try something else."

With air elemental magic Harry produced a cool offshore breeze - cool enough to form a thick fog bank that drove the Muggle boats well out to sea. The spell had to be renewed about every forty-five minutes, which left plenty of quality surfing time. Harry did not realise it, but this magic also created optimal surfing conditions.

The waves were initially mediocre, but gradually improved. The most dramatic change was the locals' attitude, which switched from aggressive to feeling honoured to have Harry in their midst. Each invited Harry to use his (no wahines in this group) surfboard and plied the first-timer with helpful tips. The one nearest Harry's size happily swapped his dark green cut-off tee, with an odd hand symbol on it, for the visitor's aloha shirt.

They showed Harry how to place his feet, and how to use the board's charms to his advantage. Charming a board for better performance was cheating, but Self-Paddling and Homing Charms just made life easier.

The locals even taught Harry their own version of a Portkey. They enchanted pandamus fruit segments so, if tightly squeezed, they transported the user to the beach. In major wipe-outs, to which newbies like Harry were particularly prone, nobody wanted his okole scraped on the rocky sea bottom. He "busted plenny wipe outs" whilst learning to surf.

Harry gradually attained proficiency, thanks to natural athletic talent that earlier made him Hogwarts' youngest Seeker in a century. Surfboard riding was not that different from riding a broom. Compared to a narrow, round broomstick, balancing on a broad, flat surfboard was easy.

After several hours, Harry got the hang (ten) of surfing.

He suspected that the others, despite their denials, were not above a bit of magical cheating whilst riding the waves. Some of their manœuvres, especially going airborne, were hard to believe. So Harry cheated a bit, too, but not with magic on his borrowed surfboards.

Instead, he charmed himself, reducing or increasing his weight as the situation warranted. A Featherlight Charm, timed just right, let him vault over a wave's peak - provided it had not curled too much. The opposite charm allowed him to sink through disappointing waves.

Mostly Harry used water elemental magic on the waves themselves - wandless attractive spells to enlarge the waves he rode. Whilst the rest caught eight-to-ten footers, Harry seemed abnormally lucky. His selected waves almost always peaked at twice that.

Beginning another exhilarating slide down a magically magnified breaker, Harry spotted Hermione and Hi'iaka wafting down the face of the hanging valley on their one-person flying mats. Trying to wave to them, Harry lost his balance, producing a spectacular over-the-falls wipe-out that called his pandamus Portkey into service for the last time that day.

He materialised on the beach with a frantic-looking Hermione swooping down to him.

"Merlin, Harry!" she screeched. "You could have been killed! What on earth were you doing?"

"Umm ... surfing."

"Well, yes, I could see that," Hermione snarked until conceding that Harry's idea of fun would always be mortifyingly different from hers. "Oh, you'll be the death of me. That was nearly as bad as Quidditch. Anyway, I should just say 'aloha au ia oe,' since we've arranged to visit the ... umm ... you-know-where."

"Okay, but I need one of those," Harry pointed at her mat - his reluctance to stop surfing outweighed by his interest in seeing where he would probably become her husband in less than in a week.

"Here, I brought your mat," Hermione tossed a neatly rolled rattan cylinder to him. "I noticed you didn't take it from our hale."

"Didn't know it was there."

"You left your wand, too, by the way." Looking a bit superior, Hermione handed Harry his dual-wand wrist holster.

The other surfers, catching up after Harry's abrupt jump to the beach, pounded up the strand. "Sweet Pele, Potter, I didn't mean this. What are you doing with these kolohes?" Hi'iaka commented disdainfully. She recognised several of the village's most notorious ruffians and knock-abouts.

"Umm ... surfing."

"Well, good for you."

"Aloha, guys," Harry took his leave. "Let's do it again sometime."

Harry ascended with the two women as the appreciative scrum of young, sodden Hawai'ian warlocks waved good-bye, flashing the same hand gesture emblazoned on Harry's traded-for shirt.

"Hi'iaka, what's this mean?" Harry asked, making a fist with his thumb and little finger extended to either side.

"That's the 'shaka'," their guide explained. "It's like 'aloha.' It means everything from 'hello' to 'just having fun' - all good stuff. When you flash anybody that sign, it means you're friends...."

She threw Hermione a saucy look.

"...or in her case, lovers."

Harry grinned, throwing a shaka at Hermione whilst Legilimencing, 'I love you.'

Her face beaming, Hermione returned the gesture.

They flew back towards Honopu Valley, now glowing luminously green in the sun's westward rays. Harry glanced uncertainly at the towering cliffs.

"Do we fly over those to get there?"

"We could, but the underground route is easier," Hi'iaka advised, "not to mention safer, with all these infernal tourist helicopters. Muggles call them the 'Hawai'ian state bird'."

Before reaching the village, Hi'iaka veered sharply left towards a gigantic mango tree guarding the valley's eastern ramparts. She put a large triton shell to her lips and blew a pattern of two long, three short, and two long notes. An opening appeared in the dark cleft of an almost dry waterfall track.

"In here," Hi'iaka led. She coaxed additional sounds from the triton, which sounded strangled to Harry's western ears. The other end of the cut-off shell began glowing.

"Lumos!" Harry and Hermione followed suit with their wands.

"What's this?" Hermione asked, always inquisitive.

"Mostly natural - old lava tubes," their guide explained. "The whole island's honeycombed - all the Islands, actually. Our ancestors only connected them."

"Do these tunnels extend under Muggle areas?" Hermione inquired.

Hi'iaka laughed. "Of course. We use them mostly for avoiding prying Muggle eyes."

"I have errands for some Muggle town," Hermione stated. "I need to change our return flight without the Ministry knowing, and I have to call my mum. I promised her that, when I married Harry, she could come."

"O ... kay," Harry acceded. He would never stop Hermione from inviting her own mum to her wedding, even though he did not like that woman very much - her dreadful (if now withdrawn) accusations still sharp in his mind.

The goblins were a different story. Harry strongly suspected that Impatok Ragnok would be displeased if they married without first trying to inform him.

Could goblins even be reached from here? If so, how?

"Umm ... Hi'iaka," Harry called to the witch leading them along this very long, very dark - and downright cold - tunnel. "Do you know how to contact goblins? I ought to invite their ... er ... leader to the wedding, or at least to send a representative...."

Hi'iaka slowed her mat to a crawl. "Sorry? I don't know what you're about. 'Goblin' isn't familiar to me."

"You've never heard of goblins?"

"No, sorry."

This was worse than Harry expected. "Let's see - they run our bank, Gringotts. They're shorter, just over a metre tall. They have long clawed hands and feet. Sharp, pointy teeth. Some have pointy beards. They're fierce warriors, excellent miners, and artefact makers, too.... They live almost entirely underground...."

"Oh," she responded, recognition in her voice, "we call them 'Menehune.' Legend has it that they first joined these tunnels...."

Harry was relieved. "Great! How can I tell them about the wedding?"

The Hawai'ian witch uncharacteristically shuddered in fear. "Not a good, idea, Harry. We - that is, Hawai'ian wizardry - aren't on good terms with them. Our ancestors drove the Menehune from the Na Pali centuries ago. Since then, the Menehune ... I'd call it an armed truce. Basically, we don't bother them, and they don't bother us."

"Surely you know their whereabouts - how to contact them if you had to?"

"Where they are, yes.... An access point is at Kīkīaola, what the Muggles call the Menehune Ditch. I warn you, their reputation is rather violent...."

Harry was mulling this information when Hi'iaka halted, pulled out the triton shell that doubled as her wand, and blew another pattern of long and short notes. A doorway opened, and sunlight flooded in, painful to their dark adapted eyes.

Emerging, they dismounted onto an obscure path laid with rough-carved lava blocks. Fine red mud coated it, making for slippery footing. The distinctive low rumbling roar of falling water filled the air.

Hi'iaka chanted something in Hawai'ian - or so they assumed - and blew the triton. The rumble disappeared.

"That's better. This way. It isn't far."

Not far meant less than ten metres, over a route thickly overgrown with strawberry guava and pandamus. They reached an ancient sun-dappled stone altar commanding an awe-inspiring view. Spread out before them was a great tree-filled valley, several times the size of Honopu. Its floor sloped seaward, surrounded on three sides by green fluted cliffs that, if less dizzyingly perpendicular than Honopu's, were equally majestic in their sheer height and breadth.

The sunlit valley floor produced a warm breeze that caressed the visitors, banishing the chill of the long tunnel. Clouds spilled over cliff tops high above, but the valley's rising warmth pushed them well away, allowing the late afternoon sun to bathe everything in its golden light.

The timeworn stone platform they occupied perched on the shoulder of a precipice at least five hundred metres above the valley floor. Above them, for another seven hundred metres, towered green, vegetation-choked natural escarpments. Down those cliffs, on either side of the platform, roared two massive waterfalls, each at least twice the volume of anything in Honopu. The falls were too close to see their tops. Their erosive power undercut the rock, naturally maintaining these crags' soaring verticality.

Fast flowing streams emerged from pools at the twin falls' bases. These swept past either side of the platform, merged in a rough triangle, and dove over the edge in a massive single cascade that plummeted into the valley below.

The sublime combination of emerald cliffs, misty waterfalls, balmy breezes, and brilliant tropical sunlight was like nowhere else on earth.

After a few ethereal minutes soaking in the views, before, behind, above, and below - and literally soaking in the moist air - Hermione turned to Harry and uttered a single word, "Yes."

Overwhelmed by the whole experience, he nodded dumbly.

She threw herself into Harry's arms embracing him in a bone-crushing hug.

Harry lifted Hermione off her feet and swung her around, reminiscent of their reunion after her Hong Kong exile almost a year ago.

"Yes," he echoed.

Enthusiastically accepting the venue, they inspected it more closely. On the makai end, just beyond the stone pavement's edge, Hermione noticed a bowl-shaped indentation, three metres in diameter, partially clogged with leaves and dirt. "What's that?" she asked.

Hi'iaka apologised for its condition. "We'll have it ma'ema'e in time, I promise."

"What is it?" Harry echoed, now genuinely curious.

"We call it Paradise," Hi'iaka answered, blushing. "Following the ceremony, you will be left alone, so you can consummate your relationship ... there. It will contain a large, traditional Hawai'ian mattress. Once you are wed, everyone departs except your seconds, who remain behind a charmed privacy screen until you summon them."

"Why summon them?"

"Hermione, it's beautiful here ... I rather like the idea...."

"They'll - we'll, since I'm Hermione's second - convert the Kahuna's carpet to bring you back."

"No tin cans, please."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

"I agree, Harry, but one issue ... is 'Paradise' itself charmed?"

"Legends say so, but if true, those charms are lost and have not been renewed in our memoury."

"What kind of charms?" Harry wondered aloud.

"My point exactly," Hermione reiterated. "They wouldn't be similar to that Phallic Rock you once mentioned, would they?"

Rendered speechless, Hi'iaka could only nod.

"So I suspected," Hermione pointed her wand at the indentation and cast her spell-revealing charm, Survellius revelato. The area appeared rather foggy and indistinct.

"What do you think, Harry?"

Harry ogled his bride-soon-to-be. "We need to be careful, but between the two of us, I'm sure we can arrange something."

* * * *

Contacting Hermione's mum was easy - an international telephone call to a known number.

Rearranging their return flight was only slightly harder. Another Surveillius revelato found Harry's passport free from tracing enchantments (Hermione's Muggle passport dated to age ten). They modified their papers to read "Hermione Potter" and "Harry Granger," with deeper implications than tickling than their funny bones. The resultant lovemaking session was sufficiently enthusiastic as to be interrupted by a Covens' security service enquiry.

Reports of a woman screaming, indeed.

A reminder to strengthen their Silencing Charms was not the worst that could happen. Harry and Hermione had almost lost track of time - and a special dinner engagement. Hermione encountered Manongia O Kaeaea at the morning plenary session and promptly invited him to visit. The three chatted until past midnight, as Harry and Hermione explained the full ramifications of the information the Aotearoan representative had provided - how his informed speculation about Cho Chang's tattoo formed an essential link in events leading to the Battle of Stonehenge. His assistance helped forestall the probable fall of the British Ministry and a catastrophic Death Eater takeover. This news made the representative pale, then puff up proudly, as the value of his assistance became clear.

The next day Harry went surfing again, and Hermione attended more of the Conference. Late afternoon featured a quick carpet ride to Hanalei - the nearest Muggle town of any size. Hermione bought new return tickets under their assumed names. She felt guilty because she had encountered Arthur Weasley at the day's session.

An expectant senior Weasley confided that he had booked the same Muggle return London flight that Harry and Hermione would now miss.

Harry quickly dispelled her guilt. Spending maybe twenty hours with Arthur Weasley, cooped up in Muggle æroplanes, was a bad idea. Conversation would undoubtedly feature extensive discussion of "the late" Ginny Weasley.

That situation would have taxed a far better liar than Harry.

An American carrier operated the most convenient return flight. Purchasing a second set of tickets whilst forfeiting their original reservations was simpler. The money meant nothing.

Persuading the elusive Menehune to act as middlegoblins for contacting the Gablankansta promised an entirely different degree of difficulty.

Hermione was helping translate the Patronus Charm into Tagalog with a Filipino delegate when, ironically, Harry's Patronus hit her back. "Meet me on the beach behind the arch in half an hour. Tell nobody. Dress Muggle. It'll be fun - I hope."

As soon as was polite, Hermione bustled away. Harry had been trying to arrange a surreptitious trip to the Menehune contact point - so they could try her ideas about what might impress Hawai'ian goblins with aggressive reputations but probably primitive technology.

Harry's surfing buddies met Hermione when she reached the beach. Hi'iaka had warned that these ruffians could be less than trustworthy, but they were perfect gentlemen whilst escorting her.

Harry was waiting, on the makai side of the arch, Manmak signet ring on his finger and Arakkilli positioned just so over his wrists. He wore his old constellation shirt as a muscle-T, shorn of both sleeves. He was sharing a joke with a lanky young man with dreadlocks well past his shoulders.

"Harry," she chirped, sprinting the final few metres to leap into his arms. "Where did you get that?"

"That" was a full-sized, parti-coloured magic carpet capable of seating six.

Harry chose misdirection. "The shirt's old. Tore off the sleeves so the whole Tladimax shows. Not sure how far up the arm it goes...."

"Harry!" A frustrated Hermione cut him off.

Harry's companion gave her a sly wink. "Aska no questions, sis, an' you's get no bullshit."

"So who's your well-connected friend?"

"This is Makaha Maka, and despite whatever slanders you might've heard, he's a true friend."

"Das right, brah, and you's da miss akamai. I knows da Menehune puka. We surf south shore in da winter. Jalike go flyin' fast kine?"

Here was their chance at contacting the Menehune with nobody the wiser. "Let's," she agreed.

"Lesgo bust one da kine flight, den."

As an extra precaution, Harry cast a goblin Cloaking Charm over the carpet. Their unorthodox guide was impressed, and not for the first time, by Harry's magical abilities.

Thoroughly concealed, they flew out to sea, turned west, and then mauka through the next valley. Then wild-man Maka followed a Muggle road south past the canyon towards the opposite shore.

"Is dere, nexta da saggy bridge 'cross da river," Maka pointed whilst bringing the "borrowed" carpet to a smooth landing. As they touched down, Hermione reached into her beaded bag, and produced a red and white ... something....

"Finite!" She ended her Shrinking Spell. The object regained its original size - a Muggle cooler that was substantially bigger than a bread box.

Frowning, Hermione eyeballed the ditch. Menehune Ditch was rather disappointing. It contained less water than the draft of Hermione's cooler - filthy and opaque water. With a shrug she looked towards the river on the other side of the Muggle road.

"Auwe, sis, you's unhappy. Wot you need?"

"Clean water," she sighed. "I assumed, wrongly, that the ditch would have it. We'll have to use the river, I suppose."

Dreadlocks dangling, Maka shook his head. "Dis da dry side, sis. But no worries. Da nomojos needs plenny water fo da sugar." He pointed at a rundown looking structure a few dozen metres downhill, bridging the ditch.

"What do you mean...?"

"Jus wait here, cuz." Maka jogged to the nearest pylon and was atop it so fast, he may have used magic. He produced a surprisingly dainty (for him) murex shell and pointed it uphill. He chanted something Hawai'ian they could not hear.

Maka turned and shouted. "'Ey! You gets plenny da kine water now!"

Harry asked Hermione, "What'd he just do?"

Hermione had to smile, "Opened a Muggle irrigation channel, I think." She Levitated the cooler beneath the viaduct.

"Evanesco!" Clear water from up mountain spilled through the vanished bottom of the viaduct, filling the cooler in seconds.

"A priori!" Harry restored the viaduct.

Maka looked on, fascinated, as Hermione Levitated the cooler back to the ditch.

"Frigidio!" Harry incanted. The water froze almost instantly. Harry trained his wand on the ice block somewhat longer than necessary, cooling it well below freezing.

"Evanesco!" Hermione Vanished the Muggle cooler. Harry Levitated the ice block onto the nearby carpet.

They repeated the process a dozen times, stacking large blocks of ice on the carpet - more ice in one place on Kauai since ... maybe ever.

Maka stared at the pair in wonder. His Haole friend and his wahine were making incomprehensible magic, but it certainly was impressive.

Finally, Hermione conjured a large white sheet to shade their handiwork from the hot sun.

Harry evaluated the ditch. Not much remained - too little for it to be as significant as the Hawai'ians claimed.

Playing a hunch, Harry made a half-circle motion with his signet ring. "Aksey kastorik!"

The incantation for ending goblin Concealment Charms found better use than completing potion-addled trysts. The landscape rippled, and fifty more metres of the so-called ditch appeared. More of a trench, it led to a tunnel that penetrated a nearby slope.

"Whoa, brah. Dat's major mojo!"

Menehune goblin magicks sufficiently resembled the Gablankansta's, so the same spell - albeit powered with extraordinary magical force - ended both.

This trench - the so-called ditch - was clear, indicating recent use.

Affirmatively seeking to attract Menehune attention, Harry leapt into the trench with a shout.

Nothing happened.

Harry lit his wandtip and followed the trench to its end. Less than two metres into the rock face, a solid, featureless stone wall blocked the way. Harry reckoned he could blow it open but much preferred a less hostile approach.

He meant to leave the ice as a truce offering to goblins who had probably never seen anything remotely similar.

Harry found the expected alternative. In a nearby recess stood a hidden cylinder topped by a smooth, wave-rounded stone.

Its size and location resembled the polished, spherical stones British goblins used to operate their splixii.

Goblins taught Harry how to operate the Château's splixat. Since Menehune Concealment Charms responded to Gablankansta magicks, maybe their entrance controls would also.

Hoping his invisible (to human eyes) Tladimax scars had activated the controls, Harry moved the stone this way and that. Finally, he touched his Manmak signet ring to the stone. Throughout he powered the spellwork more robustly than probably necessary.

Nothing happened.

Harry thought he had failed.

Suddenly, the stone wall began vibrating. With a mild grinding noise, it slid aside to reveal a darkened chamber.

"Lumos maximus!"

The chamber was plenty large for their purposes. Hermione slipped Harry the parchment containing the note she had prepared last night using Harry's Gobbledegook phrase book. It requested the Menehune to contact King Ragnok's Gablankansta and inform the Impatok of their impending nuptials. The ice was both a reward and a good faith offering.

Harry's Sticking Charm attached the note to the far end of the sheet covering the ice. With Hermione's guidance Harry Levitated nearly a half-tonne of ice into the Menehune antechamber.

Then they waited.

After several uneventful minutes, they retreated to the side of the road and conjured Muggle beach umbrellas.

Harry compulsively adjusted his Arakkilli so their fit was perfect.

Maka popped a brown bottle of Primo. In the hot sun, it nearly made Harry, a teetotaler, jealous - almost.

After about five minutes, the door at the end of the ditch slammed shut.

"Eh, dat mean dey know we're here and dey know we know dere dere," Maka deduced.

Hermione's supposition - that goblins inhabiting volcanic tropical islands probably prized ice highly - was spot on, although not entirely for her reasons. True, ice was extremely rare among Kauai's Menehune. They lacked magic or artefacts to make it. Ordinary Menehune tasted it only during their version of weddings.

Ice was rare, but not particularly needed - not on Kauai, the island farthest from Hawai'i's volcanic hot spot.

The Big Island Menehune, Hawai'i's largest and wealthiest goblin community, were quite differently situated. Their underground haunts were uncomfortably close to the most active volcanoes in the world.

For Big Island Menehune, cooling ice was a luxury of the first order. Their only natural sources were the tops of extremely high mountains - an arduous trek. For them, ice was extremely useful, hard to get, and thus valuable. They paid for it through the nose, even to Muggles.

Kauai Menehune recognised a potential gold mine when they saw one.

They also recognised Gobbledegook. Worldwide, spoken goblin dialects varied considerably, but only one abecedarian model existed. Regardless of tongue, all goblins used the same written language.

How did these wizards, two obviously tourists, know the goblin tongue?

What was their connexion to Impatok Ragnok, ruler of perhaps the greatest goblin nation in the world?

How had they overcome a Menehune Concealment Charm - and all but forced a supposedly impregnable entrance?

Most importantly, with money to be made, how much ice could they produce?

The stone door reopened before Maka had downed his second beer. Some two dozen Menehune filed out, gathering at the ditch's far end. Undoubtedly many more kinsmen were close by, out of sight.

The Menehune were armed, but rather crudely compared to goblins of Harry's acquaintance. They were also hesitant, unsure what to expect from foreign wizards who actually sought them out.

Eventually, one Menehune stepped forward. "English do speak you?" he asked in a heavy accent.

Aiming his wand inward, Harry gently Levitated himself to the opposite end of the ditch. Holstering his wand, he held his arms forward, fingers splayed. He both proved he was unarmed (at the moment) and provided an unobstructed view of his goblin Manmak, Arakkilli, and Tladimax. "Yes, I speak English," he answered slowly, then added, "Asi Inklak mandalah" - the same phrase in handbook Gobbledegook.

"Most Esteemed Impatok Ragnok us to contact wish you," came the Menehune's syntactically mangled inquiry. "Why?"

"As my note stated, Savini Hermione," he gestured to his fiancée, "and I will marry here this weekend...." Harry deliberately introduced Hermione in goblin terms. "Impatok Ragnok is my adoptive father. I wish to inform King Ragnok of this important event."

Harry missed Hermione's ecstatic smile. Harry had publicly announced their engagement - no, their nuptials - for the first time. It was real.

The interpreter's explanation to his - clan, perhaps - took much longer than Harry's original statement. The others seemed sceptical of what they heard. Finally, he turned back to face Harry.

"A wizard in goblin royal family?" he spoke slowly. "Incredible that find we. Explain must you if our help wish you."

"I saved the lives of Impatok and many of his subjects," Harry began. He gave an extremely abbreviated description of the Death Eater attack on the Ashrak, and Ragnok's responses.

Maka's eyes widened. He had never heard - never contemplated - such a thing, but Harry's laconic description bore the ring of truth. "Fo real...?"

The Menehune found Harry's explanation equally, if not more, amazing. They clustered about the interpreter, chattering excitedly in their dialect, virtually ignoring Harry. Had he been inclined, Harry probably could have captured them all.

Eventually, Menehune body language suggested resolution. The translator once again faced Harry.

"Very well. To Most Esteemed Highness, your message transmit shall we. However, reputation of the Kauai band at stake have placed you. If false is your far-fetched story, much face lose we. Thus, additional security require we...."

A sly grin crossed his face, as if successfully calling a bluff.

"...a hostage...."

"Hostage?" Harry looked shocked. More ice was one thing. No way in hell would he jeopardise Hermione. Nor did his new-found friend deserve such a fate. That meant he would have to....

"'Ey, brah!" Maka broke the tense silence. "All dat wot you wen said, no bullshit, right?"

Harry gave him an odd look, surprised by his question. "Every word's true."

"Lesgo, den," Maka declared, jumping into the ditch. "Can't no hab de bride or da groom go pau, eh? "I gots nuddin doin'...." He flashed Harry the shaka, theatrically thrust his bronzed arms over his head, ignored Hermione's weak protest, and unflinchingly walked into Menehune custody.

Thus, an agreement of sorts was reached.

* * * *

"...Have you seen that little swishy thing we're supposed to wave?" Harry was preparing for the Convening to be over, or "pau" as Hawai'ians would say.

"In the fruit cabinet, Luv - they were fresh cut, so I kept them fresh."

"Thanks, have to be early to tell Arthur how we've been delayed by the Kahuna's last-minute interest in Blackwalls' potions ingredients."

"Remember, Harry, 'Hawai'ian time'," I'm certain Arthur's had his fill - I know I have. Before you're done, I'll have checked the Menehune situation again.... I'm starting...."

COCK-A-DOODLE-DOO!!

The hale's resident moa - a noisy variety of chicken that richly merited a Hoarseness Hex - loudly announced arrival of "official" visitors.

"I'll get it. You haven't even shaved."

"Hermione?" she heard Hi'iaka's lilting voice. She opened the umbrella hibiscus door. Their Hawai'ian friend escorted an older friend, Roxtar the Lost-Finger, another goblin in what must be formal Menehune garb, two conference security wizards, and bringing up the rear, their newest friend, Maka.

Several villagers gawked in the pathway. Not every day brought Menehune, or goblins, to Honopu. More like - never.

"Harry, they're back!" Hermione shouted. "They did it!"

Harry rushed out, a toothbrush in his mouth and his wand, glowing Razus Charm orange, in hand.

"Impratraxis," Roxtar greeted, sinking to the floor in ritual prostration. After a moment of confused hesitation, the Menehune representative followed.

Maka stepped carefully over the recumbent goblins. "Ho braddah!" he exclaimed. "I don' believe dis!" His enthusiastic hug literally lifted Harry off the ground.

Harry spat out the toothbrush. "Anyor ... ack ... please," he choked, swallowing most of that Muggle toothpaste Hermione insisted he use. "Welcome everyone. I'm relieved my message got through."

"Great congratulations sends Impatok Ragnok."

"You, you great kolohe, weren't mistreated, I trust?"

"Eh, da Menehune, dey could do bettah, malihini," Maka jokingly responded in kind. "Dis one doh, once he wen learned wot dey'd done, he wen give me choke gold. Nuff to get own hale. Me hafta pick da kine wahine - like you, brah."

That Maka, who volunteered when most needed (keeping Harry from offering himself), was rewarded for serving as a hostage greatly pleased Harry and Hermione.

The imminent start of the closing ceremony precluded extended conversation. Roxtar agreed to wait in their hale. Hi'iaka would escort the Menehune - an official representative named Omanaha - to meet the Kahuna. She sensed the diplomatic opportunity of a lifetime.

Harry and Hermione attended the conclave's closing.

Afterwards, Harry was delayed. Several conclave attendees - including the French representative - crashed his supposedly brief conversation with Arthur Weasley. Hermione returned to the hale alone.

Roxtar stood as she entered, bowing without prostrating himself. She was not yet in the royal family. "Savini Hermione, much pleased is Impatok Ragnok. Save imprexa, his first choice by far is you...."

Hermione smiled. "Thank you, Roxtar. I hope always to justify your king's regard."

"Of that, certain am I," Roxtar declared, allowing a rare goblin smile. "More than regards sends Impatok...."

Roxtar ended his Concealment Charm, revealing a package about the size of a large book.

'Of course,' Hermione thought - her notoriously bookish reputation reached even to the goblins.

"Convey my thanks, won't you," Hermione requested as the package passed from Roxtar's nine fingers to hers.

"Of course, Savini."

The contents shifted as she examined the package. No book. Delicately, Hermione opened it. Its blindingly brilliant contents beggared her imagination, scattering light in all directions. So many.... It looked almost like cloth.

"My word!"

She had received a very valuable diamond - any thought these were fake would insult Ragnok - bib-type necklace. Grasping the nearest fold, she removed it from the box.

It kept coming and coming - a cascade of diamonds, mostly one-to-two carats, bound by a network of silvery metallic threads.

She encountered a sleeve, then a collar, bordered with significantly larger diamonds.

It took her breath away.

Not a necklace. She had received a dress - a wedding dress - fashioned entirely from diamonds, save black onyx patterns woven into the sleeves and train. It should have weighed much more than it felt, but was plainly charmed to be feather-light.

"Merlin, Roxtar ... I can't," Hermione spluttered. "It's...."

"Gift to you of Impratraxis' father, Impatok, of Gablankansta," Roxtar uncharacteristically brought her up short. "Try on, should you. Measurements from before had we, but perhaps not perfect."

"Umm ... okay," Hermione agreed hesitantly. She inspected the dress for zippers or clasps, finding only a couple, near the neck. "What holds this together?" she asked Roxtar. "Mithril?"

"Yes, our specialty is it," the goblin confirmed, admiring her perspicacity. "Quite rare, woven into thread. Secures all jewels in place until to dissolve it, you wish...."

"Dissolve it?"

"The jewels sometime need may you," Roxtar stated matter-of-factly. "Very valuable, that many diamonds...."

"Hermione, you in there?" Harry strode in with the Kahuna - whose real name was Kano Mawakuele - beside him. "Your mum's flight...." He made a hissing sound at the sight of her in a glittering, floor-length, all-diamond dress.

"Hermione ... Merlin's beard.... You're beautiful...."

Agog, Harry gaped breathlessly, as if seeing her for the first time.

Roxtar bowed low, "Impratraxis, returned have you. Now, activate the charms may you."

"You ... you mean, like at the ball?" Harry asked, comprehension dawning that Hermione's amazing garb was courtesy of King Ragnok.

"Exactly."

"Harry, but should you ... you know, see me like this ... before tomorrow?"

"What...? Oh, that." Harry shrugged. "I never thought I'd survive to do this. I figure I can handle seeing you in your bridal gown before the wedding...."

"Harry...." She lunged into his arms, her lips crashing into his. To Harry's surprise the diamonds did not scrape his skin beneath his thin shirt. Whilst they snogged, one of his hands drifted to her back and found the open clasps. He shifted positions, until Hermione bore more of their combined weight, and closed them.

The effect was just as immediate and disconcerting as before. She squirmed, as if being tickled. Innumerable gem-cut surfaces wriggled and slid across her skin as the dress adjusted itself perfectly to Hermione's shape. It took less than a minute. Hermione stood there, a vision. Rows of large diamonds decorated her décolletage. Sheets of smaller diamonds draped her derrière. A glittering train stretched almost two metres behind her, hovering a few centimetres off the floor.

The goblins sure knew their charms - and their artefacts.

"Mis - ter Potter," the Kahuna drawled after this display, of both wealth and affection, from the couple he would marry on the morrow. "You may have wanted a low-key, informal wedding. But if your bride is wearing that, you can't very well look like something a mongoose dragged in. I have just the thing...."

"Go ahead, Harry, I need to change into more practical clothes to fly to Lihue to meet Mum."

Harry looked appraisingly between Hermione and the Kahuna. "Shouldn't I come, too?"

"Actually, no," Hermione shook her head. "Mum doesn't know you very well. I want to chat with her first - to ensure she's on her best behaviour."

"All right," Harry agreed. "Kahuna, lead the way." He flashed Hermione the shaka, whilst Legilimencing 'I love you.'

Once the two were alone, Harry asked, "What is this thing, anyway...?"

"You'll see soon enough, Mister Potter," he evaded, eyes twinkling almost like Dumbledore's used to. "Rest assured it's both appropriate and Hawai'ian...."

About an hour later, Harry returned, reasonably pleased with the Kahuna's choice of a traditional outfit for his wedding day. Hermione was collecting her mum, so Harry chatted with Roxtar.

Impatok Ragnok also had gifts for Harry. The first needed no introduction - even before being unwrapped.

Ragnok had replaced his Vorpal sword - the original had been destroyed blocking Voldemort's point-blank Killing Curse, saving Harry's life.

Another more significant gift.

A headband - a crown in goblin eyes - for Harry to wear at the wedding.

It was goblin tradition.

Unless forced to ascend the throne prematurely, goblin princes were coronated at marriage - when they could begin contributing to the nation's bloodlines.

It fit perfectly, of course. The band, extending on each side above Harry's ears, was solid gold - as if goblins would use anything less. The smooth, lustrous metal held five gemstones: two outer obsidians, jet black and starburst cut; inside them a pair of teardrop rubies. The centerpiece was a magnificent pure white diamond.

Regarding himself in a mirror, Harry thought he looked rather ridiculous with that thing on his head. Roxtar's words made him reconsider.

"Impratraxis, Savini's ring by the same goldsmith forged was yours. Notice the resemblance can you."

Harry agreed; aside from the obsidian, the resemblance was remarkable.

After the wedding, Harry vowed never to wear anything so ostentatious - except on goblin territory, where he probably had no choice.

Harry asked Roxtar to convey thanks to Impatok Ragnok, but also expressed surprise. Amongst goblins, Roxtar was second only to Bladvak in Harry's personal esteem, but why would the Gablankansta send a military representative to his entirely civilian wedding?

Not that Harry was disappointed.

"Roxtar, you must really wanted this Hawai'i assignment," Harry commented. "I would have expected ... I don't know ... someone less, well, sending a warrior where there's no war ... if I'm making any sense...."

Roxtar understood perfectly. "Impratraxis, to you are thanks. Amongst my people with you associated am I. My..." He trailed off. This conversation seemed difficult for the goblin brave, and Harry regretted starting it. "More successful am I ... more than to dream could I. The "Lost Finger" now am I. Like great warriors of history...."

Harry had never talked with a goblin, or precious few humans, like this - except Hermione. With her, he could discuss anything.

"If like others avoided assignment with so-called 'Wizard Prince,' a nobody would still be I ...."

Nor had Harry ever heard a goblin concede anything less than absolute loyalty.

"Your bravery, not mine, drove everything you've achieved," Harry told him. "So I can't see you as a civilian, like a banker."

"Bankers," Roxtar spat. "Money too much crave they. Problems cause they. Unnecessary tensions."

Was something more involved? Harry followed up.

"What tensions?" he asked. "Is something going on?"

"Foolish bankers," Roxtar grumbled. "Too important is gold. Now with Gringotts' customers, are tensions. And what for? Money, when so much already have we."

"So what happened?" Harry repeated, more concerned.

"Regrettably, not sure am I," Roxtar responded apologetically. "Right are you. Banker not am I, now or ever. As your and Savini's bodyguard also is why here am I. If with your kind rise do tensions. Two days ago left I. Nothing more know I...."

Harry shook his head. "We'll take whatever happens as it comes," he declared, reciting Hagrid's old motto. "Nothing will ruin the happiest day of my life."

"Agreed," Roxtar added. "With bankers' follies, trouble not you."

* * * *

The day for Honopu's wedding of the century began no differently than this vacation's others - mists, shadows, tropical breezes, and the hale's umbrella-sized hibiscus and Flutterby Bushes flapping wildly in a pink flash of Harmonic Convergence.

Their bags were packed. During the ceremony, their things would be moved to the village's best Honeymoon Suite - available with the end of the Convening. The following night, Sunday, began their triple red-eye return to London.

Hermione went solo to meet her mum at the Muggle airport. That was just as well. According to Hermione, Mum - whilst pleased that the pair would no longer be "fornicating" - had been appalled at Hermione's latest Voldemort encounter.

Hermione had stopped sugarcoating the risks of the magical world. She was an adult and would act like one.

Still, Hermione had returned at wit's end. Her mum's declaration that it would have been best had Hermione and Harry never met triggered a huge row. Hermione's vigorous defence of Harry led to her mum regretting Hermione's magical talent.

A détente of sorts was reached before the carpet's late night flight along the pitch black Na Pali Coast was over. Hermione's mum would keep her views to herself and accept Harry's place in her daughter's life, whatever her personal feelings.

Her alternative was an immediate return trip to Australia.

At three p.m. precisely, a dozen triton shells trumpeted. The village's two most sumptuous flying carpets ascended to Kalalau - one carrying Harry, Roxtar, and Harry's friend Maka; and the other Hermione, her mum, and Hi'iaka.

They hugged the awesome cliffs to avoid Muggle tourist helicopters. A Concealment Charm protected the wedding site, but its usual Muggle-Repelling Charm was removed, due to Hermione's mum.

Eva Granger adjusted surprisingly well to the magic carpet, even when it flew hundreds of metres above the valley floor. Hermione neither admitted nor denied that a Cheering Charm, or some Muggle equivalent, might have been responsible.

The twin waterfalls cascaded magnificently (as they always did). Seeing them made him think of Hermione - something he did often. For the occasion she magicked her hair ... into double-waterfall braids.

Hermione's carpet led the way and was landing gently on a pre-cleared spot. In bright sunlight, Hermione looked amazing, her sparkling dress outshining the surrounding waterfalls.

Sharply contrasting with Hermione's brilliant færie white was Harry's native Hawai'ian outfit of gold (mulberry bark dye) and red (a long cape bristling with thousands of feathers), courtesy of the Kahuna. Neither had planned to dress up. Then the goblins draped Hermione in several fortunes of diamonds. Harry needed more than Bermuda shorts and an ever-changing aloha shirt.

The ceremony seemed a beautiful dream. Hawai'ian chanting. An exchange of colourful orchid leis. Emphatic "I do's" from both bride and groom. Harry's ending the goblin Concealment Charm on Hermione's ring - she already wore it and refused removing it even for the ceremony. Hermione giving Harry a traditional koa wood ring.

Finally, when they kissed, came the only music either wanted for the ceremony - the Beatles' "All Too Much" - the song Harry had used months ago to rescue Hermione from self-imposed mental exile.

The Kahuna handfasted them with a green leafy lei he brought specifically for that purpose. He declared them man and wife, recognised by the covens of the Pacific Basin Magical Convention. The guests left, most leaving traditional offerings - black lava rocks wrapped in ti leaves. Hermione's mum dallied, sobbing whilst embracing her daughter. Everyone, save the bride, the groom, and their seconds, would enjoy the village's massive celebratory luau.

The seconds - Maka and Hi'iaka - retired behind the aptly named privacy screen, where they would stay until the newlyweds were ready to return to the village for the night.

Finally, only the Harry and Hermione remained, united at last in matrimony.

As promised, Paradise awaited - a large cushion, bright yellow, and comfortably warmed by the afternoon sun. They ventured onto it. Whatever filled the cushion was almost unnaturally soft, yet also surprisingly firm. As intended, it made a perfect marital bed.

"Hypoviolettæ!" Harry and Hermione cast Anti-Sunburn Charms over the area. They would need them.

"Would you like help with that?" Harry gestured to her dress, shimmering blue-white in the sunlight.

"I thought you'd never ask," Hermione invited him, lifting her hair to provide access. The diamond gown's form-fitting features relaxed when the goblin clasps unfastened. Harry carefully lifted the amazingly light garment over her head - discovering that....

"Like what you don't see, Harry?"

"But ... the dress.... Didn't you wear anything underneath...?"

"For the ceremony, but once everyone left, I Banished them." She gestured behind her; the unnecessary undergarments barely visible through long grass. "The dress had comfort spells. This way felt more ... naughty."

Drinking her in, Harry smirked, "Five points to Gryffindor for excellent spellwork." He carefully Levitated the diamond gown so that it obscured her unmentionables.

"Can I return the favour?"

Harry nodded and raised his arms. Hermione meticulously divested his long red-feathered cape. Daintily, she Levitated it to drape over a bush beside her clothes. Licking her lips, she turned to his woven grass shirt and kilt of sorts.

"Finite." Harry's traditional Hawai'ian garb flickered and reverted to its original Bermuda shorts and Hawai'ian shirt. "Sorry, but the real thing itched too much," Harry admitted sheepishly. "The Kahuna ... well I'm hardly the first, so he taught me the Transfiguration...."

"We can't have you itchy, can we?" Ziiiiip.

Harry's Bermudas removed, she knelt directly in front of him on the cushion's makai side. Its fabric was warm, its surface soft, and firm but yielding - like Harry, but not nearly as yummy.....

"Don't expect me to make a habit of it, but for today ... mmmm."

Hermione took him in, her tongue swirling. She focussed on him, but he stood staring at (not necessarily seeing) the magnificent vista of Kalalau and the ocean beyond. Eventually, Harry closed his eyes - it was too much, and he needed to concentrate on not buckling at the knees.

Moments after yielding himself to her, Harry did topple over. He, too, appreciated the attributes of Paradise.

Recovering, he sat on the fluffy cushion, grinning at her. "My turn." First on her knees atop him, and then supinely splayed across the luxuriant fabric, Hermione was conscious only of the waves of pleasure from Harry's amazing ministrations. Eventually, she felt a breeze bringing the almost ticklish sensation of misty Hawai'ian rain. She opened her eyes ... the sun was still shining....

Harry had stopped for the rain. "Merlin, Hermione, look!"

Rolling on her side, Hermione saw a full double-rainbow arcing across the towering green cliffs. It neatly framed the white ribbons of the double waterfalls tumbling down on either side.

They watched in silent awe until the brief rain shower passed.

Hermione snuggled next to him. "Harry," she whispered as her hand slithered across his thigh, finding him. "Unless you want to be a father quickly, we need to watch what we do.... There could be Fertility Charms here."

"Not until it's all over, Hermione," Harry sighed. "Then can we think seriously about that...."

"I love you, Harry," Hermione squeezed him as he put his arm around her. "But you're absolutely right."

"So now what? I could stay here forever, but maybe we should...."

"There's still one way I'm a virgin, Harry," she stroked his firmness.

"What? I thought.... You really want to?"

Hermione crinkled her nose. "Umm ... not really, but other options are limited."

"Then don't," Harry was firm in more ways than one. "You never have to do anything sexual you don't like ... not for me...."

"Umm ... okay, then...."

"Then what?"

"I know," Hermione smiled brightly, "let's try mixing our magicks. I've been reading up, and being married, nobody can claim we're doing anything wrong...."

* * * *

The rented Chevrolet slowed at the sign for "Kalalau Lookout." Hesitating, the vehicle turned - into the exit lane. It swerved, barely avoiding a bus full of Japanese tourists but clipping some of the ubiquitous bluish hydrangeas.

The middle-aged driver sweated bullets until he finally parked. "Damn," he muttered, "I never want to drive on the bloody wrong side of the road again."

He rechecked his hastily printed Internet maps. The large valley had two overlooks (and a trail), but this one was definitely correct - it boasted an unobstructed view of the eastern cliffs.

To reconfirm, he pulled out a tombstone wedding announcement clipped from last Wednesday's Southland Times. It read:

Potter - Granger

To Be Untied In Holy Matrimony

June 14, 1997, 4 p.m. local time

Double Falls, Kalalau East

Kauai, Hawai'i, USA

As the typo betrayed, that ad was as hastily arranged as his own departure for the States.

Now to find that view. A concrete trail led through neatly cut grass, past picnic tables, and to green painted railings.

What a view! A few clouds drifted off the swamps immediately to the south but evaporated in warm air rising from the broad sunny valley. Some sea cliffs back home were equally dramatic, but utterly inaccessible. Here one could look down - to the sea at least a thousand metres below.

He scanned the fluted eastern cliffs. There! Double waterfalls pouring into a cleft. A single stream emerged and almost immediately dropped into another falls, the whole appearing as a huge, aqueous letter "Y." Peculiarly, neither falls came over the cliff tops. Instead, both popped from some particularly permeable rock layer maybe 150 metres below.

The official overlook view was both too oblique and too crowded. Mid afternoon must be prime tour bus hours. Cars nearly filled the parking lot.

He looked about. There must be.... He knew first hand that Americans were perpetual rule breakers.

There - to the left, and maybe ten metres below the railing - the telltale red clay slash of an unofficial track meandering along the western ridge. Following the fence leftward until it ended, he located the track's upper end.

For thirty minutes he followed the narrow, precipitous track perhaps half a kilometre - to a small open area only a couple of metres across. He could no longer see the official overlook, meaning that nobody up top could spot him.

A perfect spot for an invited, but uninvited, guest.

Reaching into his meticulously packed rucksack, he removed a device resembling oversized opera glasses. His daughter and her - he supposed he should be pleased, but his emotion was hard to name - soon-to-be husband called them "Omnioculars." According to them, and the device's written instructions, these could penetrate wizard Concealment Charms.

He sighed. He hoped these worked; he had no way to run an advance test. If not ... he had come a very long way on very short notice for naught.

Thoroughly familiar with the instructions, he fiddled with the dials. The magnified scene sharpened and came into view. Yes - success!! He could see people, maybe two score, in the small level area at the junction of the "Y".

Where was...?

She was unmistakable - a vision, even from here - her long white dress was so dazzling it almost hurt his eyes. A sharp pang of regret pierced him. He had not seen his daughter since that awful August night when London burnt. Then he had been too preoccupied to say a proper goodbye.

He had no idea when, or if, he would ever see her again.

His hope - and fear - since Hermione was born had been one day to lead her proudly up the aisle.

All his own bloody fault.

He dropped to his knees, softly weeping over estrangement from his only child. Soon, however, his stiff upper lip returned. That only daughter was getting married. He disliked the groom mightily - he represented mortal danger - but they indubitably loved each other.

Harry Potter was so bloody rich as to dwarf his own peculations. He had shelved, however regretfully, the Marathon Man fantasies he had previously entertained regarding his soon-to-be son-in-law.

There he was, dressed in an off-colour tan outfit that looked like dead leaves - with the largest feather boa imaginable, almost a cape, bright red, draped about his shoulders. He also wore some sort of headband.

People milled about. The ceremony would start soon.

He next saw Eva. Another knifelike frisson stabbed his heart. She, he may well also never see again. Visiting was too dangerous, and she could know only vaguely where he was.

Such was the life of a fugitive.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

Startled, he almost fell over. Concentrating on the view, he had not noticed the tall, blonde, slightly sunburnt man, dressed in khaki shorts, now standing beside him.

"Oh, sorry," the man apologised. "Didn't mean to startle you."

"Quite all right. Not your fault. The magnificent view distracted me."

"Isn't it, though? Nothing remotely like this around Minneapolis, where I live.... Forgive me, Joseph Swenson." He offered his hand in a friendly manner.

The interruption was annoying, but rudeness would not do. Taking the proffered hand, he used the man's support to stand up. "No problem. Edward Farmer, Invercargill."

"British?" the man fished. "You have the accent."

"New Zealand, actually."

"Kiwi, then.... Really, I've always wanted to visit. The travelogues are so fascinating. I'm in real estate, by the way. If you ever consider moving to Minnesota...." Incongruously, given their location, he offered a business card.

"Doubt that will happen," he politely refused. "I have a fine dental practice back home."

"Well at least I can let you look through these...."

Edward Farmer noticed the large black binoculars around the man's neck. He recognised them as for astronomical use - over-powered and ill-suited for viewing scenery.

He went through the motions. "Aarh, these are too strong. They'd give me quite the headache. Sorry."

He sat down and took up his Omnioculars, hoping the overly gregarious Yank would move along.

He did. "Well ... cheerio then. Must be off, I suppose," he took his leave with a faked British accent.

Edward Farmer paid not the slightest attention.

Good. He had not missed it. The bride and groom were together before some wildly dressed man commanding a black stone altar.

They must be giving each other rings.

Yes! It is done. He is kissing her. The strange man takes something from around his neck and....

He tied it around their wrists. They kiss again. That must be Eva. She is giving her a huge hug - mostly ignoring him....

Damn!

I would like to hug her too, but no way....

Everyone is leaving - except them.

Now what?

Oh-oh. Is this what I think?

The bride's brilliant white dress went flying through the air.

Oops, he felt his cheeks redden. Time to go. He had a long plane flight ahead of him.

* * * *

"Frigidio!"

A bucketful of water immediately frosted over and quickly froze solid.

"I do believe he's got it!" Harry remarked, his British accent deliberately exaggerated. In his normal inflexion, he added, "With work, you should be able to conjure...."

"Harry!" With Roxtar in tow, Hermione halted her mat and leapt off into her new husband's arms. "How's the training going?"

"I wen donnit, sis," Maka beamed. "Youz lookin' at de Island's first mojo iceman!"

"Congratulations!" Hermione returned the Hawai'ian's high wattage smile. "How much longer do you need Harry?"

Maka saw desire in Harry's face. "Donnit four times inna row, now," he told her. "I'm plenny ready fo shua. It's a time fo my side o' dings." He turned and hurried to the beach.

Hermione almost seemed affronted by Maka's abrupt exit. "Hey, what's that?" she called futilely after him.

Harry's hand found hers, and she let him spin her so she came to rest in his arms. "Don't mind him. He's keeping his surfing buddies, and everyone else, out of this half of the beach for the next few hours. Mmmm...." She kissed him needily. Even with goblin Concealment Charms, bystanders in the vicinity would be most distracting - precisely what Hermione did not want.

"Finally," she panted when they broke for air, "we can trust our contraception when we make love...."

At the double falls, and again at the village's newlywed suite, Harry and Hermione had to consider the possibility of undetectable Hawai'ian Fertility Charms. They were of the same mind - starting a family must wait until Voldemort was fully and finally destroyed. Voldemort's threat had played a huge role in keeping them apart. They could never place that burden on an innocent and helpless soul.

Voldemort would surely jump at using any child of theirs against them.

Thus, on their wedding day, and night, Harry and Hermione had to pull their sexual punches.

Until now.

Alone together, amongst beach naupaka dotting upper Honopu Beach, they could finally make uninhibited love as husband and wife, without conception-related worries.

Harry doffed his shirt and Transfigured it into a large beach towel. Hermione contributed a very useful Sand Repelling Charm. Roxtar transformed into a boulder.

"You know, with mixing magic.... I can sense, well, how it feels for you...."

"Oh, really? I didn't feel anything like that."

"That was because I ... umm ... held back. You know, because of Fertility Charms and all...."

I see.... And how was it for you ... er, me?"

"Like I never wanted to stop.... The longer I went, so did you. I'd never felt anything like it. Going on and on and on."

"Well, consider it cosmic compensation for childbirth. Maybe you'll have a chance to feel that some time."

"Not for a while, though. If I do, it'll be worth it."

"Harry, how about less talk and more action?"

Harry and Hermione pounced upon one another like crazed mongooses.

A couple strenuous hours later, Harry and Hermione nestled together in their altogether, watching afternoon shadows creep across the beach, unwilling to acknowledge the imminent end of their Hawai'ian interlude.

Beginning this evening, they would suffer the tender mercies of Muggle air travel for most of the next two calendar days.

"...Harry, you worked wonders with Maka, teaching him that. I'm not alone in thinking so...."

"He did it himself," Harry modestly deflected her praise. "He's barely more than wild talent. He didn't think he was worth anything, so he wasn't. He became a hostage because he didn't think his life mattered. Finally, for the first time he knows he can be useful - sort of how I felt coming to Hogwarts...."

"Look what you've become," Hermione sighed, kissing his chest. "Useful doesn't begin to describe it. He can print money selling ice to the Menehune. Even Hi'iaka is impressed with the diplomatic opportunity."

"Well, between us, he's 'plenny' impressed with her," Harry added. "Too bad she looks down on him...."

"Not so, Harry. I can report that the feeling's mutual," Hermione revealed. "They managed a civil conversation as our seconds whilst we were ... otherwise engaged. I do hope they get together."

"Perhaps they'll invite us to their wedding," Harry mused.

"They might...." Hermione's voice was low, and her eyes had a faraway look. "Harry ... you know when it's all over - Voldemort, the equality pledge, everything - I could see us returning here...."

"Why wait?" Harry sighed. "I doubt Maka and Hi'iaka will. We could vacation here every...."

Hermione rolled directly onto his chest. She looked him straight in the eyes. "I'm not thinking about vacations, Harry. I mean permanently...."

"Really?" she had his full attention.

"Yeah, I've been thinking. Magical education here, and throughout the Pacific, is so spotty, I'm sure we could found our own school.... Wouldn't it be wonderful growing old together, here?"

"You're presuming a lot."

She knew that look - he worried about the prophecy. "Harry, I had to presume that to marry you. When I said yes, I put my faith in you. Nobody has more faith in you than I."

He smiled at her, and cupped her face in his hands. "Let's add that to our discussion list after I prove that you're always...."

WHOO-HOO!!

They abruptly scrambled to sitting, Hermione covering herself with part of the towel. Harry Summoned his wand - wandlessly, of course.

WHOO-HOO!!

Looking frantically around, Harry noticed an owl circling - one of the Château's international fast owls. It seemed to sense his presence, but was stymied by the goblin Concealment Charm.

Once they were clothed, Harry ended the spell. The owl gratefully dropped a small package, the size and shape of a medicine bottle. The owl immediately flew off without waiting for a reply, or even a treat.

"What the hell?" Harry plucked the delivery from the sand. It was cylindrical, with no identifying characteristics, save a blank white wrapper about its middle.

Hermione reached in.

"Be careful," Harry pulled it back. "It could be dangerous."

"No, it's an extremely confidential communication device," Hermione told him. "Healer Huxley used one for my post-Draught of Despair prognosis. The incantation to open it is 'Apparicio verbatim'."

Harry performed the spell, and the stopper popped out with a hiss. A cloud of pellucid smoke emerged and began swirling. It soon resolved into twin images of Jerry McAllister and Kingsley Shacklebolt. Their expressions were grim.

Shak spoke first. "Bad news, Harry. Please listen carefully and remain calm. You can't return to England safely, nor Hermione. The Ministry has fallen - a vote of no confidence. Thicknesse is the new Minister. The Wizengamot voted him extraordinary and emergency powers - to enforce their decision rescinding your inheritance. All ties with the goblins are seriously at risk."

"A goblin named Bladvak - I'm sure you know him - was recently apprehended foreclosing on a Gringotts mortgage. The property was scarcely worth the effort, but that precedent would jeopardise the finances of virtually every British pure-blood family. The Wizengamot belatedly realised that your Gringotts shares block retaliation. So they've voided your shares ... or so they claim."

"Needless to say, the goblins recognise none of this. The Wizengamot is mulling whether to issue an ultimatum. Last we heard, the goblins still occupied Azkaban - and were threatening to massacre all Death Eater prisoners. A confrontation will almost surely spark a new goblin rebellion and wholesale seizure of wizard accounts at Gringotts. The goblins aren't likely to back down. After engagements here, and at Stonehenge and Hogwarts, they're confident that they can fight wizards, so they're not likely to comply...."

Harry heard an angry guttural sound behind him. Roxtar was listening in, claws bared. Neither Harry nor Hermione had any inclination to stop him.

"Your role in those engagements puts you at risk. The Wizengamot gave you twenty-four hours to accept the inheritance nullification, but you were overseas - which they damn well knew. They've charged you with high treason, and Hermione as an accomplice. Aurors were waiting to arrest both of you at Heathrow, but thank Merlin you tricked them, leaving your names on the manifest whilst staying behind. They arrested Arthur Weasley on trumped up charges of complicity in your activities...."

"Oh Merlin!" Hermione gasped.

Free magic began coursing between Harry's fingertips.

'Stay calm, Harry, you have to,' her voice was in his head. Reinforcing her words, she laced her fingers through his.

"The more extreme factions are advocating a Bill of Attainder..." Shak continued, but his voice was drowned out by Hermione's.

"They can't! That's ... positively medieval! They've been illegal for a century!"

"...don't think they've a pygmy puff's chance in a dragon's den of receiving Muggle Royal assent." Shak's image opined.

"What's 'attainter'?" Harry asked, confused.

Hermione turned the top of the tube, pausing the message. "Attainder, Harry," Hermione explained, "is something English Kings used centuries ago to eliminate powerful rivals. Parliament simply declares you guilty of treason without trial - or even proof."

They looked at each other. Harry nodded, and Hermione took a deep calming breath before untwisting the tube to restart the narrative - just as Jerry McAllister took over.

"Harry, sir, you can't return right now. Things are too dangerous until the situation stabilises. The Wizengamot passed an unprecedented and extraordinary escheat declaring Blackwalls forfeit, and the Ministry are seeking expropriation. We're resisting, but things are in flux. I've sworn the staff to a new Vow and terminated all who refused. Shak and I spent the past several hours conjuring a Fidelius Charm over the entire Château. The moment this owl leaves, we're activating it. We'd much rather wait on you, but there's no time. A surprise assault could take place any moment...."

"You're both familiar with wartime communication methods," Shak broke in. "Horace taught you well...."

'Harry,' Hermione Legilimenced again. 'Look.' She pointed to the paper wrapper. On closer examination, it was not quite blank. A familiar set of characters were penciled lightly in one corner.

Jerry was speaking again. "The goblins' splixat is inside our Fidelius, so we can coordinate with them, but they're so angry, we think it best that you undertake the initial contact."

Shak took over. "Harry, take Hermione and go to France, where you're still welcome. Thicknesse abrogated the anti-Voldemort alliance, thereby making France an enemy. You're greatly esteemed there. Being the Ministry's number one undesirable will only increase your stature."

"I'm truly sorry you and Hermione won't be Hogwarts Heads after everything that's happened, but the Ministry is purging known and suspected Order sympathisers. I've been fired outright. McGonagall's been demoted. Both Ron Weasley's and Longbottom's status is probationary. Basically Voldemort seized power without a fight because nearly all pure-bloods are terrified of losing their land to the goblins. However unfairly, you're blamed for that."

"We'll attempt to contact you in France."

The smoky images vanished; leaving the stunned pair standing on the beach gawking. In mere minutes, their entire world had been turned upside down. After several long moments, Harry shook his head in disbelief and turned to Hermione, "Well, doesn't that beat...?" He paused at the sight of her shattered countenance. "Hermione, don't...."

No use.

She collapsed in his arms, wailing, "Oh, Harry, I'm so sorry! I've ruined everything! My stupid goblin idea ... now Voldemort's taken over!"

"Hermione, don't," he repeated, holding her close. "Your idea was brilliant then, and still is," he reassured. "The goblins thought it so great that they jumped the gun ... but somehow messed it up...."

"Stupid are bankers," Roxtar growled. He looked furious. His drawn and ready blade glinted incongruously in lazy tropical sun, as if Death Eaters could emerge at any moment in peaceful, isolated Honopu Valley.

"We can't even go back to England," Hermione sobbed. "Voldemort's so powerful. We're exiles...."

"We'll get back," Harry vowed. "Your idea, it's incredibly powerful! It strikes at the heart ... that's confirmed now. That's why they reacted so crazily - fear."

"But Voldemort...."

Harry's eyes grew hard. "Darling, don't lose faith in me, or yourself. Voldemort still has me - us, dammit - to overcome, and he knows it. I'm sure, once the dust settles, we'll find allies ... the goblins, the Sisters, the Order ... even the French. I'm a lot tougher now, thanks mostly to you...."

"Oh, Merlin, Harry. It's so much harder now."

"It was always going to be hard, Hermione," Harry squeezed his new wife's shoulders. "For better or worse, remember. Remember, with almost all the pure-bloods throwing in with Voldemort, when we do win, we don't just win the battle...."

Hermione grasped the implications. "Real change, Harry." Her trembling ceased and she regarded him with wonder. "A social revolution ... it might actually happen...."

"We went through hell to get here, Hermione," Harry spoke intensely. "If such a thing as destiny really exists, I think this has to be why...."

Her eyes now burning, Hermione reached up and stroked the fringe of his messy black hair with her fingers. They lingered on his cheek. "It never ends, does it, Harry?"

"Not with me - or us," he agreed, betraying his first smile since receiving the terrible news from Britain. "Not as long as I have this scar."

FIN

* * * *

Author's notes: Hawai'an words: mojo = magic; Kimo = James; da kine = best; pakalolo = marijuana; Haole = Caucasian; makai = seaward, mauka = inland, lilikoi = passion fruit; mo'o = lizard; ali'i = nobility; malihini = stranger; kapu = forbidden; nomojo = Muggle; moana = ocean; wahine = woman; okole = butt; aloha au ia oe = I love you; Pele = Hawai'ian fire goddess; kolohe = rascal; ma'ema'e = clean; kahuna = boss, in this case the village's mayor; makaha = borderline crazy; akamai = clever; puka = doorway; pau = to be over, done.

I don't particularly like flying anymore; I mention some reasons why

LAN = LAN Chile pre-1997

H/Hr learned Apparition in Ch. 9

Deepest cuts healed by faith, from Pat Benatar's All Fired Up

Flowering also occurred in Ch. 46

Interflora is a British version of FTD

Brief History of Time was re-released in 1996

Tonks mentioned Hawai'i in Ch. 13, and gave Harry a copy in Ch. 66

I reset my watch when entering a plane

Healer Huxley treated Dumbledore's final illness

Poetry is W.B. Yeats' The Second Coming, slightly modified

Farmer's reducer, first used in Ch. 40, appears again

This H/Hr dislike fancy weddings

The name change arose in Ch. 50; Harry agreed to mutuality

Hudson News is currently in Vancouver airport; don't know about 1997

By 1997, baseball cards no longer had gum; poetic license

Both cards exist; and are somewhat valuable

The Hawai'ian agricultural declaration form is real

I've tried making the Hawai'ian pidgin accurate

Cargo is a Polynesian term for goods generally

There's always construction at airports

The magic side of the airport is hidden by hau bushes

Hawai'ians use seashells as wands

Reference is to the Kanaka Maoli flag

Harry smoked pot in Ch. 27

Hawai'ian locations and place names are accurate

The beaches are "Poipu"; the canyon "Waimea"

Harry fell off a cliff in Ch. 35

Valley of the Lost Tribe = Honopu

Sun angle means it set/rises quickly in the tropics

Umbrella-sized flowers are in CoS Ch. 6

Frutopia is no longer sold in the US; Beachside Blast is a flavor

Spam (canned meat) is popular in Hawai'i

Harry watched Hermione pack in DH Ch. 6

My wife and I share H/Hr's sleeping attire

The pregnancy offer was in Ch. 47

Sod's law is British for Murphy's law

Tahiti and New Caledonia are French

The Kalalau double waterfall and Honopu arch exist; I've seen both

Metal = gravel

Like beef = wanna fight?

Offshore wind helps surfing

Hermione saw the shaka in the Mirror of Erised in Ch. 33

Pandamus looks something like pineapple but is a tree

The Na Pali coast is overrun with tourist helicopters

Hermione's Mum confronted Harry in Ch 39, but vowed to be at her wedding in Ch. 45

The Menehune of Hawai'ian legend resemble goblins

The first H/Hr swing-around was in Ch. 7

The phallic rock was mentioned in Ch. 47

Manongia O Kaeaea appeared in Ch. 63

Moa were mentioned in Ch. 77

Mithril is a magical metal from Tolkein fantasy

In Hawai'i mongoose are pests

Harry got the vorpal sword in Ch. 74; lost it in Ch. 85

Red feather capes were worn by Hawai'ian nobility

The musical rescue was in Ch. 42

Use of ti leaf-wrapped rocks is accurate

The Kalalau Lookout, accurately described, is Hawai'i's best land view

The Southland Times is real

The Omnioculars came from Harry in Ch. 17

The Marathon Man reference is to the dentist scene

Invercargill, the southern New Zealand, is as far away from England as physically possible

Beach and mountain naupaka flowers lack opposite halves of their circle of petals

That's the "grow old" line from the 7th movie

Ch.1 used the same messaging method

This final upheaval was presaged in Chs. 51 & 77

Bills of Attainder figured in the War of the Roses and the civil war of the 1640s; the US constitution explicitly bans them

At one point JKR said the last book would end with "scar"

88

C:\Documents and Settings\Owner\My Documents\HP & The Fifth Element.ch51 Padfoot's legacy.doc 1/1/2017


Author's notes: I don't particularly like flying anymore; I mention some reasons why

LAN = LAN Chile pre-1997

H/Hr learned Apparition in Ch. 9

Flowering also occurred in Ch. 46

Interflora is a British version of FTD

Brief History of Time was re-released in 1996

Tonks mentioned Hawai'i in Ch. 13, and gave Harry a copy in Ch. 66

I reset my watch when entering a plane

Healer Huxley treated Dumbledore's final illness

Poetry is W.B. Yeats' The Second Coming, slightly modified

Farmer's reducer, first used in Ch. 40, appears again

This H/Hr dislike fancy weddings

The name change arose in Ch. 50; Harry agreed to mutuality

Hudson News is currently in Vancouver airport; don't know about 1997

By 1997, baseball cards no longer had gum; poetic license

Both cards exist; and are somewhat valuable

The Hawai'ian agricultural declaration form is real

I’ve tried making the Hawai'ian pidgin accurate

Cargo is a Polynesian term for goods generally

There's always construction at airports

The magic side of the airport is hidden by hau bushes

Hawai'ians use seashells as wands

Reference is to the Kanaka Maoli flag

Harry smoked pot in Ch. 27

Hawai'ian locations and place names are accurate

The beaches are "Poipu"; the canyon "Waimea"

Harry fell off a cliff in Ch. 35

Valley of the Lost Tribes = Honopu

Sun angle means it set/rises quickly in the tropics

Umbrella-sized flowers are in CoS Ch. 6

Frutopia is no longer sold in the US; Beachside Blast is a flavor

Spam (canned meat) is popular in Hawai’i

Harry watched Hermione pack in DH Ch. 6

My wife and I share H/Hr's sleeping attire

The pregnancy offer was in Ch. 47

Sod's law is British for Murphy's law

Tahiti and New Caledonia are French

The Kalalau double waterfall and Honopu arch exist; I've seen both

Metal = gravel

Like beef = wanna fight?

Offshore wind helps surfing

Hermione saw the shaka in the Mirror of Erised in Ch. 33

Pandamus looks something like pineapple but is a tree

The Na Pali coast is overrun with tourist helicopters

Hermione’s Mum confronted Harry in Ch 39, but vowed to be at her wedding in Ch. 45

The Menehune of Hawai'ian legend resemble goblins

The first H/Hr swing-around was in Ch. 7

The phallic rock was mentioned in Ch. 47

Manongia O Kaeaea appeared in Ch. 63

Moa were mentioned in Ch. 77

Mithril is a magical metal from Tolkein fantasy

In Hawai'i mongoose are pests

Harry got the vorpal sword in Ch. 74; lost it in Ch. 85

Red feather capes were worn by Hawai'ian nobility

The musical rescue was in Ch. 42

Use of ti leaf-wrapped rocks is accurate

The Kalalau Lookout, accurately described, is Hawai'i's best land view

The Southland Times is real

The Omnioculars came from Harry in Ch. 17

Invercargill, the southern New Zealand, is as far away from England as physically possible

Beach and mountain naupaka flowers lack opposite halves of their circle of petals

That’s the "grow old" line from the 7th movie

Ch.1 used the same messaging method

This final upheaval was presaged in Chs. 51 & 77

Bills of Attainder figured in the War of the Roses and the civil war of the 1640s; the US constitution explicitly bans them

At one point JKR said the last book would end with "scar"