Harry Potter and the Carnelian Key

Dedication: This chapter is for Andie, karei, Liss, Love, Plu, and Tab because of their unfailing friendship and never-ending support, both of my writing and of me. We’ve come a long way from a 4 a.m. wicked thought, haven’t we, girls? I love you all. J

* * * * *

THUD.

Harry’s feet hit the floor, the rapid shift in momentum enough to make the rest of him follow. He grimaced as his knees hit the cement, then carefully returned to his feet and extracted himself from the fireplace. Harry hated traveling by Floo powder; of all possible modes of transportation, it was definitely his least favorite...with the exception of Portkeys. The feelings of the two were remarkably similar, though; Harry was sure this was in no small part the reason he disliked fireplace travel so much. It also didn’t help that all that spinning made him nauseous.

A muffled “oomph” announced Ron’s arrival and Harry turned, holding out his hand. Ron took it and pulled himself out of the flames, shaking himself against the whirlwind that was Floo travel.

“Thanks,” Ron coughed.

They brushed themselves off, and Harry looked around the Three Broomsticks, marveling once again at the wonders of the wizarding world. Although Harry was quite used to magic by now - in fact, he sometimes wondered how he’d ever lived without it - the enormity of it all often hit him at odd times. Like now, he was shaking his head in awe at the fact that here he was, in Hogsmeade, when only moments before he’d said good-bye to Hermione and Mr. Granger at the Leaky Cauldron in London. And no less wondrous was the fact that he had just been engulfed in flames, and yet, aside from a little soot, was no worse for wear.

“Harry! Ron! There yer are! I bin waitin’ for yer.” A huge grinning face ambled towards them through the tables, and Hagrid reached Harry and Ron, who was still choking on some ash, next to the fireplace. “Good ter see yer, Harry,” Hagrid said cheerfully, clapping Harry on the back with a force that would have made him stumble a year ago, and possibly fall over when he was eleven. “Yer all right there, Ron?”

“Yeah,” Ron managed. He coughed again, then drew a proper breath, brushing some ash away from his mouth. “Yeah.”

“Well, it’s dead good ter have yer both back. Castle ain’t the same without yer. C’mon, may as well have some drinks while we’re here.”

Hagrid led Harry and Ron to an oversized booth in a far corner. Judging from the large dip in the cushion on one side, Hagrid had been waiting for them for some time. Harry and Ron deposited their luggage on the floor, and Madam Rosmerta came over with a large tray.

“It’s butterbeer for the lads, I’m guessing?” she asked, setting two bottles in front of Harry and Ron. “And here’s another of your usual, Rubeus.” Hagrid eagerly accepted a stein of mulled mead so large Madam Rosmerta could barely hold onto it. Harry and Ron stared as Hagrid downed a good portion of it with several loud gulps followed by a smacking “Ahhhh”.

“So how was yer Christmas, yer two? Did yer have a nice one?”

Harry took a deep breath and Ron stared at his bottle. “Yeah, it was good,” Harry told Hagrid. “Busy. A lot of...er...stuff happened.” Harry glanced uncertainly at Ron, who was now blushing slightly. Harry thought he looked awfully tired on top of it. He wondered if his best friend had had trouble sleeping the night before, following Hermione’s performance at the karaoke contest.

“A lot of stuff, yer say?” Hagrid asked, looking slightly concerned. “Dumbledore didn’t seem too worried from yer letters.”

“Oh, no, not anything bad,” Harry assured him. “Just...well, busy.”

Hagrid nodded. “So how were things here?” Ron asked, changing the subject and avoiding Hagrid’s eyes by taking a sip of butterbeer. “How was the Christmas feast?”

“Ah, the Christmas feast,” Hagrid sighed, his eyes taking on a dreamy glaze. “Roast lamb and mincemeat pies and custard and trifle…” He spoke with such adoration that Harry half expected Hagrid’s mouth to start watering then and there. “The house elves really outdid themselves this time, I tell yer. Really outdid it.” Hagrid raised his glass and gulped down the remainder of his drink, letting out a soft belch at the end. Harry looked down at his own untouched butterbeer, then back at Hagrid’s enormous, and now empty, tankard. “’s a wonder they were able to do it, with how busy they’ve been. Quite a wonder.”

“Busy? What have they been busy doing?” Harry asked curiously. Hagrid instantly snapped out of his reverie, realizing he’d said something he shouldn’t have.

“Shouldn’t ‘a told yer that,” he mumbled. “Should not have said that.” Then in his normal voice he quickly replied, “Oh just this and that, you know, same as always.” He looked innocently away and lifted his glass for another drink, ignoring the fact that it was empty.

Harry narrowed his eyes.

“O’ course, the feast was awful lonesome without yer. We’d all gotten so used to yer all bein’ around on Christmas. So what was it like spending your holiday with muggles, eh? Bet it was real excitin’ for you especially, Ron, being around all those muggle places and gadgets. What do yer think o’ the ‘lectricity? It’s amazin’ what these muggles can come up with to –“

“What are the house elves busy doing, Hagrid?” Harry asked insistently.

Hagrid kept his eyes averted and began whistling merrily.

“Wow, it must be something pretty huge,” Ron said to Harry loudly.

“Yeah, must be. I guess we’ll have to put on the invisibility cloak and sneak around the castle under the mask of night until we find Dobby and convince him to tell us what’s going on. I’m sure it won’t be difficult, that Dobby sure doesn’t keep secrets well, I’m sure he’d be eager to –“.

“Fine,” Hagrid hissed quietly. Harry and Ron grinned. “I’ll tell yer, but yer have to promise to keep it quiet.” He whispered the last word for effect.

“We promise,” Harry said.

“Absolutely,” agreed Ron.

Hagrid turned serious. “It’s not a joke,” he said severely.

Harry and Ron dropped their eager grins and exchanged a glance.

“What is it?” Harry asked quietly.

“We’ll be havin’ some company at Hogwarts. Lots o’ company. Important folks.”

Harry’s stomach gave a little flip-flop. “When?” he inquired.

“Couple weeks. Night o’ the twelfth. Dumbledore wanted to do it sooner, while all the students were still away, but some people couldn’t get away.”

Harry was puzzled. Away from where? Who was coming to Hogwarts? “I don’t understand.”

“Dumbledore’s orderin’ a meetin’. First meetin’ with everyone. To discuss the situation with –“ Hagrid’s voice dropped even lower, so that Harry and Ron had to lean forward across the table to hear him. “You-Know-Who.”

Harry’s heart skipped a beat. “Who’s everyone?”

“Lots o’ folks from all over. People who work for Dumbledore. Consultants. Experts. People who’ve already had assignments, some spies too.”

Hagrid paused to look around nervously, and Harry and Ron imitated him. No one seemed to be paying them any undue attention.

“Big meetin’ for everyone to share their reports, and decide what to do.”

Harry‘s spirits soared. This was great news; they were finally going to do something!

“This is great!” he exclaimed quietly. “Finally, maybe someone will be able to do something about Voldemort’s –“

“SHHHHH!” hissed Hagrid and Ron. Ron shuddered a little.

“Sorry,” Harry said. “About You-Know-Who’s return.”

“That’s what Dumbledore’s hopin’ for. But now, listen here, Harry. I should not have told yer about this, I don’ want yer sneakin’ all over Hogwarts to find anythin’ out. Yer’ll find out what yer need to know when yer need to know it, okay?”

“Okay,” Harry agreed sullenly. He knew better than to hope to be included in such a meeting, but he wished someone would at least keep him more informed. He was slowly but surely learning there wasn’t much he could do about that, though. He took a few seconds to let it all sink in. Here he’d only been back about five minutes, and he already had something consequential to mull over. Of course, it was wonderful news! He was sure Dumbledore could figure out what to do and, finally, he felt a bit of the pressure he’d been burdened with let up a small notch.

“So what do the house elves have to do with this?” Ron asked.

“Gettin’ the place cleaned up and ready for guests,” Hagrid said simply. “Gettin’ the guest quarters ready.”

“Guest quarters?” Harry and Ron asked in surprised unison. They had long since accepted the fact that Hogwarts was still mysterious to them and full of secrets in many ways, but it didn’t prevent the element of surprise when something new was revealed. “There are guest quarters in the castle?” Harry continued. “Where?”

“Ohhhh no,” Hagrid said. “I’ve told yer too much already. Don’t yer worry about that, now.”

Harry silently wished that he still had the Marauder’s Map. He would have examined it closely, trying to figure out where there was enough unidentified space to house a crowd of guests within the castle. Unfortunately, he hadn’t seen the map since he’d lent it to Barty Crouch, Jr., when he’d thought he was Mad-Eye Moody.

They finished the rest of their drinks in relative silence, each mulling over his own thoughts. Hagrid was frowning to himself, undoubtedly chastising himself for revealing so much privileged information. Ron seemed to be contemplating something, but Harry doubted how much it had to do with Voldemort or secret meetings. But Harry couldn’t stop his mind from racing. He’d been waiting for news like this all year. He wondered what all these people had been up to, and what kinds of things they would have to report. But more than that, he wondered if they would be any match for Voldemort.

* * * * *

By Sunday night, Harry and Ron could hardly believe the holiday break was almost over. It was New Year’s Eve, and the rest of their schoolmates would be returning to the castle in two days, with classes starting up again on Wednesday. They had already been back at the castle half a week, but it felt like they’d only just returned. Harry and Ron had the whole of Gryffindor Tower to themselves, which was equally exciting and eerie. It was the first year since they’d arrived at Hogwarts that no other students in their house had stayed behind at the castle for the holidays. When Harry and Ron had returned from the Three Broomsticks with Hagrid several days before and had given the Fat Lady the password to get into the tower, she had looked so pleased to see someone that Harry wondered if she might just leap out of her frame and yank them both into a big, squishy hug. Thankfully, she hadn’t, but after the portrait hole had closed behind them, Harry had thought he heard her blow her nose and say something about having missed all her little ones.

After having eaten dinner in the Great Hall with the few remaining occupants of the castle, Harry and Ron had retreated to their common room to ring in the New Year alone in front of the roaring fire. They were exhausted. They had spent the better part of the past four days exploring every last square inch of the tower, and much of the rest of the castle as well. What they couldn’t get away with in the light of day, they had relied upon midnight and the invisibility cloak for. It wasn’t every day they had an opportunity like this, and they weren’t going to let it get away without taking advantage. However, after four days of relative solitude, they were both growing bored and a bit restless with the unrelenting silence. They were ready for their friends and roommates to return, especially Hermione; things just weren’t the same without her.

Or at least, Harry was.

As 1996 ticked closer, Harry glanced at the overstuffed easy chair to his left, where Ron was sprawled, hunched down and frowning severely. He hadn’t spoken in nearly an hour, and finally, Harry tossed aside “Great Quidditch Heroes of the Ages” and let out a heavy sigh.

“Talk,” he ordered his best friend.

“Huh?” Ron cast a lazy look in Harry’s direction.

“I know what’s bothering you, Ron, and it’s not going to go away on its own. So talk. Tell me what you plan to do about you and Hermione when she gets back.”

“I don’t know,” he said bitterly, punching the pillow in his lap.

“How can you not know? You don’t have much choice, you have to make a move. You both want to be together, it’s obvious. So be together!” Harry tried to keep the irritation out of his tone, but he wasn’t sure he could hide it at this point. He was getting tired of having this conversation. He simply didn’t understand Ron’s procrastination. Ron was miserable, and so was Hermione, and there was just no reason for it.

“I want us to be together, Harry!” Ron cried. “Do you think I don’t? It’s all I can think about!”

”So…?”

“So, I don’t know!” Ron angrily tossed the pillow to the floor and looked away. “I…” his voice trailed off, and when he spoke again, it had become very small. “I don’t know how to do it,” he admitted, a red flush spreading into his ears.

Harry stifled a chuckle. “Blimey, Ron, is that all?”

“I’m glad you think it’s funny!” Ron said defensively.

“I don’t think it’s funny,” Harry assured him. “But I do think you’re making rocket science out of basic math.”

“What’s rocket science?” Ron asked irritably.

Harry ignored him. “You just…I don’t know, you just do it. When the moment is right.”

“I’ve had so many chances, Harry, and I just keep blowing it,” Ron pouted. “I’m a git.”

“Hey, stop right there,” Harry commanded. “You are not a git.”

Ron scowled.

“You’re just…nervous,” Harry shrugged. “You just need…you need a plan,” Harry said matter-of-factly, sounding eerily like Hermione. “Yes, yes. A plan. We need to get you one of those.”

Ron looked at Harry warily. “What kind of plan?”

“I don’t know…you need to decide how you’re going to make your move, and you need to stick to it. Personally, I think you should just tell her. Just do it. Like pulling off a band-aid, nice and quick.”

“What’s a Band-Aid?” Ron was getting thoroughly aggravated.

“Never mind. Okay, listen. Here’s what you’re going to do. When Hermione gets back, you’re going to get her alone and you’re going to say that you’ve been wanting to tell her something. You’re going to tell her that you like her as more than just a friend, and you think that she feels the same way. That’s all you have to do. Let her take it from there. You can do that, can’t you? It’s easy.”

Ron contemplated this suggestion. “Hmmm. I don’t know. I guess I can do that. That’s pretty simple.”

“Sure you can do it. See? All you needed was a plan.”

* * * * *

The plan wasn’t going so well.

Hermione had been back at the castle for two days, and Ron was still procrastinating. Harry was chiding him over breakfast on Friday morning, when the very object of their conversation walked up and joined them rather rudely at the table by dropping a large stack of books in front of them.

“What’s this?” Harry asked.

“Research.”

“Research?” Ron and Harry asked as Hermione slipped into a chair across from them.

“Yes, research. I was so busy getting settled into all my classes again, I hadn’t had time to talk to you about it yet. But I did some research after the two of you left. I had some books I’d brought home from the Hogwarts library, and I went to the muggle library at home too.”

“Why?” Ron wanted to know. “The O.W.L.s aren’t for months yet.”

She removed the top book from the stack and flipped purposefully to a page she’d marked with a strip of parchment. She looked up and regarded Ron coolly. “I know the O.W.L.s. aren’t for months yet, but that doesn’t mean we all have to wait until the last minute to start studying. You two, for example, could have done with starting to study months ago.” She paused for authoritative effect, and when Ron and Harry just stared at her with bored expressions, she continued impatiently. “Anyway, this stuff isn’t for the O.W.L.s.”

“Then what’s it for?” Harry asked.

She suddenly seemed to get a bit nervous, and deliberately avoided their eyes when she said, “I wanted to find out more about the legend of the carnelian key.”

“The what?” Ron asked, clearly trying to place where he’d heard of this before, but Harry knew immediately.

“Hermione, why? We agreed that it was just a myth. It’s not true.”

“You don’t know that, Harry! It’s the only thing even close to a lead that we’ve found, and I just think we’d be foolish to not at least see what we can find out. Where’s the harm in that?”

“I just don’t want to get my hopes up over nothing, Hermione!” Harry cried, dropping his fork onto his plate with a clang. Several people nearby turned to look, and Harry lowered his voice and leaned forward across the table. “I just can’t take any disappointments where he’s concerned, and I can’t waste time going down a dead-end road. I can’t put all of my focus on that and risk missing something else because I’m too preoccupied wishing that some old folklore might be true.”

Hermione was undeterred. “I don’t understand you, Harry. You want to find a way to defeat Voldemort, and here is one, and you don’t even want to try? You don’t even want to consider the remote possibility that it could be just the thing you’re looking for? That we’re all looking for?”

Hermione was intent, and Harry could see the fierce determination in her eyes. He stopped to consider what she was saying, and wasn’t really sure why he was so opposed to her doing research on the matter. Maybe it was because he hated to see her pour her heart and soul into something only to have it turn out to be pointless in the end…maybe it was because he didn’t feel he could take it if it turned out to be pointless…maybe he was too scared of what they would all have to go through to defeat Voldemort if it did turn out to be true…

That was the thought that pushed him over to her side. He couldn’t bear to let himself turn into a coward. Not because of him. Not ever because of him.

And this was the moment he would look back on later and see as the point where there had been no turning back.

“Fine.”

* * * * *

They had a full day of classes after that, and in their first Transfiguration class of the new term, Professor McGonagall spent nearly half the period lecturing them about the O.W.L.s. She sternly reminded them that if they hoped to receive their best marks, they couldn’t slack off at all this term. Five months may seem like a long time, but it would be gone before they knew it, and the exams would be upon them…

Harry tuned her out, focusing instead on the research that Hermione had done about the carnelian key. They hadn’t had a chance to finish their discussion that morning as they’d had to rush off to class and hadn’t really had a break since. When lunch time finally arrived, Harry thought they’d be able to discuss it further, but they had no sooner sat down than realized that wasn’t going to be possible.

Fred and George Weasley entered the Great Hall with their heads bent together, whispering animatedly to one another and moving very quickly towards the Gryffindor table. They joined Harry, Ron, and Hermione and sat down with huge grins on their faces.

“What’s up?” Ron inquired.

They both stifled laughs. “Just watch,” Fred said, nodding towards the Slytherin table.

“What are we watching for?” Hermione asked suspiciously, swiveling in her seat and watching uneasily as the Slytherins settled into their chairs.

“You’ll see,” George replied with a smirk.

Dishes of food appeared on all the tables simultaneously, and instead of being the first to dig in as they usually would have, Fred and George kept their eyes firmly on the Slytherin table, unable to contain themselves any longer. They nudged one another with congratulatory excitement as their rivals took their first bites of lunch…and nothing happened. Fred and George waited a few moments, and then began to frown and whisper. Fred shrugged, confusion evident on his face.

“What did you two do?” Ron asked. “What’s supposed to happen –“

Ron was cut off by a sudden scream. They all whipped their heads in the direction of the scream, which had come from a first year Ravenclaw student sitting closest to the Head Table. The screaming spread, and soon students all over the Hall were in a frenzied state of panic.

For up at the Head Table, all of their teachers – Headmaster included – had turned into giant blue birds. Blue feathers flew around in the air as wings flapped madly. Some teachers attempted to speak, and the tips of their wings flew to their throats, as if they were holding their necks in their hands, when they discovered that all they could do was squawk loudly. The squawking got louder as they all tried in vain to speak to one another, and beady black eyes searched the crowd of students. Many landed on Fred and George Weasley.

The twins exchanged a look of horror, and then, as if they were reading each other’s minds, they both jumped up and sprinted for the doors of the Great Hall, trying desperately to escape the chaos they had created. In the midst of the confusion, no one noticed Hermione stride quickly to the head of the room, pull out her wand, point it at the teachers, and declare, “Finite Incantatem!”

With a loud ‘pop’, their teachers were suddenly their teachers again, and they all glared lividly in the twins’ direction. Dumbledore quickly composed himself and shouted, “Stop!” Immediate silence fell in the Hall, and the twins froze in place, George with one hand already on the door, starting to push it open.

Dumbledore cleared his throat, and rubbed his neck, then spoke very quietly but clearly. “Now that my voice has returned, I would like to speak with the Misters Weasley just beyond this door, please.” Dumbledore gestured to a door behind the head table, which Harry knew led into the room where he’d been told many months ago that he would be competing in the Triwizard Tournament. Fred and George guiltily made their way to the front of the room, every eye following them, and whispers chasing their path. As Dumbledore turned to enter the room, Harry thought he saw the briefest trace of amusement cross the Headmaster’s face, and he knew he was right by the way McGonagall glared at Dumbledore with disbelief. The Transfiguration Professor huffily gathered her robes around herself and followed the Headmaster into the room. The twins disappeared inside and the door closed behind them with a resounding thud.

Chatter broke out throughout the Great Hall.

“Oh, they’ve really done it now,” Ron lamented. “Mum will implode.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed, and then a slow grin spread across his face. “Did you see Snape though?”

“Are you kidding?” Ron conceded. “He had beadier eyes than anyone else!”

“Trevor!” Neville suddenly exclaimed, frantically searching his pockets and bag, then the surrounding floor area. “Trevor’s missing!” He declared worriedly. “He was frightened away by all the screaming!” Several students began looking around their own seats for Neville’s frog, but he was nowhere in sight.

“Don’t worry, Neville,” Ginny Weasley assured him from her spot a few seats down. “We’ll find him.”

The Gryffindors commenced a search of the Great Hall. Many Hufflepuffs and a few Ravenclaws joined them, but the Slytherins just sat back, enjoying the Gryffindors’ misfortune. Harry pulled aside some curtains on one of the tall windows to look behind them, but didn’t find Trevor, and when he turned around, his eyes locked with Draco Malfoy’s, which were dancing with amusement as he smugly folded his arms across his chest. Harry glared at him and continued on to the next window. Trevor’s whereabouts were still unknown when the door to the side room opened and the twins emerged, looking properly chastised.

Dumbledore and McGonagall looked around in confusion, and Dumbledore asked, “What is going on here?”

“Neville Longbottom’s frog is missing, Professor,” Hermione informed him. “He was frightened away by all the noise and we’re trying to find him.”

Dumbledore turned to the twins. “Add to your detention a second task, gentlemen. Find Mr. Longbottom’s frog.”

* * * * *

“It wasn’t supposed to be the teachers’ food!” Fred exclaimed, defending himself against the barrage of angry Gryffindors that met them at the portrait hole when they returned from detention late that night. “When we were in the kitchens, we put the hex on the food on the Slytherin table.”

“Yeah,” George continued, fishing around in his pocket for something and withdrawing a fat green toad, which he deposited into Neville’s outstretched hands.

“Trevor,” Neville cooed, taking his pet and stroking its skin soothingly as he headed for the stairs to his dorm.

“How many points did you two lose for us?” someone wanted to know.

“Fifty,” George mumbled.

“Fifty?” several people exclaimed.

Harry felt his own stomach drop with disappointment, but he couldn’t get angry with the twins. Enough of their friends were going to be upset with them as it was, and he couldn’t honestly tell himself that he wouldn’t have been cheering if Draco Malfoy and company had sprouted bright blue wings and started molting over their fish and chips. Besides, he had no room to complain; he’d lost his housemates more than his share of points over the years.

“Each,” Fred finished. The uproar swelled. “But come on!” he quickly added. “When else would you get to see Professor Snape like that? Did you see his beak? You could have hung a potted plant from that hook!”

The room fell silent, and then several people snickered.

“Eh,” someone said. “What’s a hundred house points?”

At that, everyone shrugged and went back to whatever they had been doing before the twins had returned. Fred and George breathed a sigh of relief.

“What did you have to do for your detention?” Ron asked as the twins sank into a sofa. “Besides tracking down Trevor?”

“We had to help Filch clean up a mess of potion ingredients that Peeves dumped all over the dungeons.“ Fred said with a scowl. “Jarvey bile, Hippocampus eggs, Erumpent exploding fluid…it was a mess.”

“We’re exhausted,” George complained.

“And you stink,” Ron told them, wrinkling his nose. “Go shower and get to bed.” He waved them towards the stairs.

“I concur,” Hermione said, politely trying not to grimace herself.

“But we just sat down,” Fred whined.

George sighed. “Come on, Gred.” George rose and pulled Fred with him, and they disappeared up the stairs after Neville.

“Back to work,” Hermione informed Harry and Ron, and she led the way back to the table where they’d been doing their homework before the twins had come in. Hermione settled herself into her chair, discreetly pulling it a little closer to Ron’s. Harry wondered if she even realized that she did things like this, or if it was all just part of her subconscious longing. Ron certainly realized it though, and he blushed, but didn’t move further away, Harry was happy to note.

Hermione carefully marked the page of her Charms book, and bent to return it to her bag. As she did so, Harry mouthed to Ron over her head, “The plan!” and pointed to himself, then the stairs, indicating that he would be perfectly willing to leave the two of them alone if Ron was ready. Ron shook his head fiercely. Harry sighed.

Hermione pulled a thick book onto the table and flipped it open to a marked page. “I want to talk to you about my research, Harry.”

Ron raised an eyebrow at Harry, as if to say, “Now aren’t you glad you didn’t go?” Secretly, Harry was glad. He’d been hoping to get back to this topic of conversation all day.

“What have you found?” Harry asked her. “Start at the beginning; tell me what you were looking for.”

“Well,” she began in a hushed voice, “I couldn’t stop thinking about the box and keys, and where they might be now if the legend is true. According to the legend, Iakopa hid the box and the carnelian key together at one corner of the earth, and the bloodstone key by itself at the other corner. But if this is true, it makes no sense, at least not literally. In order to have corners, there have to be at least three, mathematically speaking, and the legend only refers to two. And how would anyone even determine what location would constitute a corner of the earth? So it must just be a figurative term. Which makes them even more difficult to locate, of course.

“So I started by getting some books from the school library that would tell me more about the Hawaiian wizarding culture in general, hoping to find some mention about a belief in corners of the earth, but I didn’t find anything like that. But what I did find is that the magical community of Hawaii has deep beliefs that circle around this concept of three universal planes that exist in some sort of cosmic balance. Each plane represents a quality, and these three qualities represent the nature of humanity and the universe…they fit together to formulate the very basis of existence.”

“Existence of what?” Harry asked, struggling to follow her explanation. “Life? Humans?”

“Everything. The universe. The fact that anything at all even exists.”

“Wow,” Ron said. “That’s pretty intense.”

“It is,” Hermione agreed.

“What are the three qualities?” Harry asked.

“Mokaki, lokahi, kuleana. Chaos, harmony, logic.”

“Chaos, harmony, and logic…” Harry repeated. “And how do those fit together? How do they keep the universe in balance?”

“Well, I didn’t really find a good explanation of that. But it reminded me of something I’d read before, only I couldn’t put my finger on it. I couldn’t remember what I’d read, so I went to the muggle library at home, and did some research, and I found it. It’s like the theories of the German philosopher Georg Hegel. He believed in this conception of logic in which conflict and contradiction are regarded as necessary elements of truth, and truth is regarded as a process rather than a fixed state of things. The source of all reality, for Hegel, is an absolute spirit, or cosmic reason, which develops from abstract, undifferentiated being into more and more concrete reality by a dialectical process consisting of triadic stages, each triad involving an initial state, or thesis, its opposite state, or antithesis, and a higher state, or synthesis, that unites the two opposites.”

Harry and Ron just stared at her. No one spoke for a good twenty seconds, and then Ron said dully, “I heard the words, but I’m not sure they were English.”

Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes. “Don’t you see? It’s all about stability. Equilibrium. Everything in the universe exists either in conflict with each other, or in harmony. The conflict is always striving towards reconciliation but it isn’t a state that exists independently of the other two. It’s a process that’s reached only through the conflict.”

More blank stares.

“Good grief,” she finally said. “Chaos and logic are opposites of one another. Harmony is the balance between the two. Chaos and logic are in conflict with each other, all the time. They want to reach a state of harmony.”

Harry and Ron looked relieved. “Well sheesh, Hermione, why didn’t you just say that in the first place?” Ron asked.

She glared at him.

“So how does this help us, Hermione?” Harry asked. “How does it help us figure out the location of the corners?”

She sighed. “I have no idea. I have no idea if it even does. But it’s such a major part of the culture, I figured that we had to have an understanding of it before we could move forward.”

“So this is basically all we know at this point? This is where we move on from?”

“Well, this and one other thing. The only other thing we know about the corners is that Iakopa marked the locations with a message in ancient runes. But we have no idea what the message is. I went through all of my Ancient Runes texts, and everything I found on the matter here in the Hogwarts Library. And I didn’t find any record at all of any locations with messages that have been translated to refer to any box or keys or any ‘corners of the earth’ or anything even remotely like it.” She paused to let out a sigh. “So if the locations do exist…they must either have never been translated, or they must be completely undiscovered…by the magical world, at least.”

Harry suddenly realized where she was going with this information. “What do you mean?” he asked, waiting for her to finish.

“I mean that, if these locations do exist…if the corners of the earth are real…we’re going to have to find them ourselves.”

* * * * *

Hermione’s idea of finding the corners themselves consisted of basically nothing except poring over books and maps for hours on end. She seemed to think it easier to narrow down the possible locations based on places they knew of, or could find out about, that had displays of ancient runes and start from there, rather than trying to pinpoint the locations based on any sort of mathematical or scientific calculations of distance. She did agree with Harry’s assessment that the corners were likely to be as far away from each other as possible, hence the name “corners”. So right now, their goal was to find any pairs of places with ancient runes that seemed to exist on completely opposite sides of the globe from one another. They weren’t having much luck.

Early on in their research, Ron grew a bit obsessed with the French caverns at Lascaux, but Hermione assured him the drawings weren’t really runes – they were just pictures of animals and maps of the night sky. But even so, there really were no other leads. It wasn’t easy to figure out exactly how one would mark the corners of the earth with ancient runes, so they really had no idea what they were looking for. Would they be cave drawings, like at Lascaux? Would they be carved into stone at the top of some mountain peak? At the bottom of an ocean? Would they be large and noticeable, or small and minute? It was like looking for a needle in a haystack. A really big haystack.

After about a week of research, they had decided to take a night off. They had to; Harry and Ron had fallen dreadfully behind in their homework, and Hermione was beginning to hyperventilate every time anyone even mentioned the O.W.L.s.

“I can’t believe I haven’t started organizing yet!” cried Hermione’s disembodied voice from behind a wall of books in the Gryffindor common room. “What have I been thinking? I’ll never be ready in time, I have to outline all my subjects and I haven’t even started yet!” Several people nearby were looking at her oddly. She couldn’t help her hysteria being overheard; she hauled so many books and rolls of parchment around these days that she needed a table all to herself, slightly away from the one where Harry and Ron were sitting.

“Hermione,” Harry said reassuringly, “Just calm down. Breathe. You have plenty of time, you’re going to be fine.”

“Fine?” She exclaimed. “Fine? How can you say that, Harry?” She gestured wildly at all the books spread before her, some stacked as high as the table was tall. “I have to read and outline all of these books this week, if I have any hope of getting through everything by June.” She reached down and pulled a huge roll of parchment out of her bag. She gave it a shake and it unrolled with a flourish, parchment tumbling down to the floor and spilling across the rich scarlet rug. It only stopped when it hit the leg of a nearby armchair that Ginny Weasley was sitting in, and it was already a good twelve feet long. “I’ve made a schedule,” she explained, clearly referring to the parchment, which was covered from end to end in her small, neat script, “and I simply must stick to it. I only have a hundred and fifty nine days!”

Harry and Ron stared at her with bewilderment. “She’s mad…” Ron said weakly. ”She’s gone positively barking mad.”

“I have not gone mad, Ronald,” Hermione said sharply, blowing a strand of messy hair out of her eyes. “I can do it, I just need to stay disciplined, that’s all.”

“Well,” Harry said, looking at his watch, “you’re going to have to save the discipline until tomorrow. It’s almost eleven o’clock. We need to head up to the Astronomy Tower.” Harry and Ron – and even Dean and Seamus, who were near enough to overhear – rolled their eyes.

In their first Divination class of the new term, Professor Trelawney had been beside herself with excitement. She had informed them that a very rare and wonderful event was about to take place – a meteor shower, and a major one at that. According to Professor Trelawney, one could read one’s entire future in the falling stars of a meteor shower. And this was to be their assignment – to decipher their own futures in the night sky. Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil had squealed with excitement, but the others had just groaned miserably. They were going to have to spend hours at the top of the Astronomy Tower in the freezing cold just to predict their own misfortunes.

“Er, I don’t think so,” Hermione informed them. “I’m not in that class, I may remind you, so I’m staying right here. I have loads of work to do! Why, I have to outline 600 more pages tonight if I want to stick to this schedule!”

“Hermione,” Harry said firmly. “Come on. You need a break, and we want you to keep us company.”

“Harry, no. There’s no way! I can’t. When I’m done with all this, I want to get a jump on my Arithmancy essay too, so I’ll have tomorrow night free to help you with the maps instead, and –”

“Hermione,” Ginny Weasley spoke up from her place nearby as she slipped her cloak on, “I’m not in that class either, but I’m going up just to watch. It’s supposed to be really beautiful, I’m sure you would enjoy it. Come with us, please? Just for an hour.”

Hermione looked around at their pleading faces (except for Ron, who was very busy trying to appear disinterested as he gathered his books and fastened his own cloak) and finally let out a sigh. “Fine,” she said. “Fine!” She threw her hands up as those around her grinned. “But I’m not going up empty handed, I’m taking these books with me –“

“Whoa, no way!” Harry exclaimed, quickly pulling her arms away from the stack of books she was trying to gather up in them. “You. Need. A. Break. No books. Come on.” He dragged her away from the table, motioning for Ginny to grab Hermione’s cloak from the chair where she’d deposited it after Care of Magical Creatures earlier that day. Hermione sputtered in protest as she found herself being pulled toward the portrait hole, and somehow managed to flail out an arm to grab one random book from her table before being shoved into her own cloak and out of the Gryffindor common room.

When they got to the top of the Astronomy Tower, most of their classmates were already there, setting up their equipment for the observation.

“So, tell me what this assignment is again?” Hermione asked, settling herself onto the cold concrete of the roof, and leaning back against the base of the huge telescope stationed in the middle of the tower.

Harry explained as he focused his telescope. “We have to observe ten shooting stars and decipher their meanings, based on their positions in our birth charts. They’re supposed to tell our futures,” he said, his voice dripping with obvious skepticism.

Ron snorted. “I wonder how many of them will predict your death, Harry? You probably don’t even need to watch, just tell her they all forecasted your untimely demise, and she’ll give you top marks.”

“Oooooh, look!” An excited squeal interrupted their conversation as Parvati spotted the first meteor. Half a dozen telescopes swiveled in the direction she was pointing. After observing the star for the brief moment it took to make its journey across the sky, several students jotted down some notes, while others let this one pass by, waiting for the next falling hunk of iron that was supposedly going to determine their life’s course.

Hermione muttered under her breath as she opened her book. “Ridiculous,” she tutted. “That crazy fraud couldn’t tell someone how to predict their future if her life depended on it.” She pulled out her wand. “Lumos,” she commanded it, and she aimed the light towards her page and began reading.

Harry shook his head as he settled his telescope into position. The point of this had been to get Hermione away from her studying long enough to enjoy a little fresh air, but she clearly wasn’t going to be falling for that trick.

They all watched the meteors fall for an hour or so, the initial oohs and aahs dying down after a while as people settled into their work. Harry felt a deep sense of serenity up here, his mind wandering as he watched. He thought about how massive this meteor shower was – the sheer magnitude of it compared to his individual existence, and then the more sobering realization that the event was still minuscule compared to the overall orchestrations of the vast universe. He wondered how anyone could look up at the night sky without feeling dwarfed…without resigning oneself to the fact that they were all just playthings…all so insignificant in the ultimate scheme of things. He thought about what Dumbledore had told him several months earlier. “There is an order to the universe, Harry. One larger than ourselves, beyond our comprehension or influence. But somewhere it makes sense.” At this moment, Harry wondered how anyone anywhere couldn’t believe those words to be true. And he wondered once again how exactly it was that he fit into the plans of the universe…how Voldemort fit into the plans of the universe…

Before he let himself get any more philosophical, Harry reminded himself that he had homework to do. He looked down at his parchment and reviewed what he’d written down. He’d deciphered five meteors so far, hastily deciding from cursory glances at his notes that they indicated a long journey in his future, the loss of something valuable, a nagging cough during the week of Valentine’s Day, and – for the sake of his grade – his near death by fatal wound and his actual death at the hands of a late winter avalanche. He thought those sounded like passable enough answers.

Looking around the tower, he realized that the crowd had thinned out considerably. Only he, Ron, Hermione, Neville, and Ginny remained. Parvati and Lavender had just finished up and were heading for the stairs, chattering eagerly about all the good fortune the universe was sending their way. Dean and Seamus had already gone. Harry glanced at Hermione, who hadn’t moved from her spot at the base of the large telescope, but he was pleased to see that – even though her book was still open on her lap – she was looking up at the sky at that particular moment, her face a mixture of wonder and contentment. As she started to look back down at her book, she saw Harry watching her, and they smiled at each other, Hermione looking slightly embarrassed to be caught enjoying herself when she had insisted so strongly that she needed to study. Harry let out a slight chuckle, as did Hermione, and then her eyes shifted and her smile faded into a stoic flush. Harry realized she was looking at Ron, and turned in time to see Ron redden and turn away himself. He had been watching her.

A wall of tension suddenly seemed to shoot up between them all. It was a feeling Harry had grown familiar with lately. The tension between Ron and Hermione was so thick these days he often wondered how any of them could see each other through it. They all returned their attentions to their work, and when Harry needed only one more meteor to complete the assignment, he glanced at Ron’s parchment, only to realize that his comrade still needed seven more.

“Ron,” Harry said.

“Huh?” Ron had been distracted and seemed startled by the sound of his own name.

Harry pointed at Ron’s work. “You only have three. We’ve been out here for two hours. Everyone else is finished.” Neville had finished by then too, and Ginny had accompanied him back to Gryffindor Tower.

“Oh, yeah,” Ron mumbled. “I guess I’m not really in the mood for homework. I think maybe I’ll just go. It’s getting really late. I can just make up the rest of my answers before class tomorrow,” he said, shooting a subconscious and pained glance in Hermione’s direction. She was focused on her reading again, taking no note of Harry and Ron’s hushed conversation. A sudden wind assaulted the tower and sent Hermione’s hair flying into her face. She reached up and smoothed it back, tucking it behind her ear. It was a simple but endearing gesture, and Harry heard Ron take a labored breath and let it out as a deep sigh.

“No,” Harry said suddenly, quickly rolling up his own parchment even though he wasn’t finished. He dropped his voice to a whisper. “This is it. You are going to talk to her, right now. It’s the perfect time. Remember the plan.” Harry couldn’t think of a better place for Ron to confess his feelings to Hermione than under the stars in the middle of the night, and frankly, he was sick of waiting.

“No!” Ron whispered back urgently. “Harry, I’m not ready, I don’t know what to say.” A trace of panic had worked its way into his tone, and it was matched threefold by the expression on his face.

“Ron, I told you what to say. If you don’t just do it now, you’re never going to do it. Stop thinking about it so much, and just go with your feelings. It’s time.”

Ron shook his head fervently, eyes begging Harry not to leave him alone with her. “No, Harry, if you leave, I’m leaving too.”

“What’s going on?” Hermione had finally taken notice of the hushed conversation taking place ten feet away from her.

“Nothing, I’m finished,” Harry said, looking pointedly at Ron. Then, deciding that it was for his best friend’s own good, Harry trapped Ron into staying. “But Ron isn’t. He’s going to be up here all night if he doesn’t get a move on. Help him out, Hermione, will you? I’m exhausted, I’m going to bed.” He let out an exaggerated yawn, and in a flurry, he was gone.

When the staircase’s heavy oak door closed behind Harry, the silence was so sudden it seemed deafening to Ron. He gulped.

Hermione set her book aside and got to her feet, joining Ron at the heavy iron railing that separated them from a ten-story fall to the ground. “This assignment is so ridiculous, honestly,” she said, pulling Ron’s parchment towards her to have a look. “But you have to do it, and you need seven more.” She looked up from the notes and gazed around, eyes settling to the south. She reached out and grabbed Ron by the sleeve, startling him slightly, and she dragged him several feet to the right, pointing out to the sky with her free hand.

“There,” she said. “Right in there, I’ve seen loads of them tonight.”

“Yeah? Okay,” he said, trying to fix his concentration on the sky and not the fact that she hadn’t removed her hand and it now rested lightly on his forearm. Suddenly she tightened her grip and pointed out into the night.

“There!” she exclaimed. “There! Did you see that one?”

“Yes,” he lied, gently pulling his arm from her grip to remove his quill from his pocket and jot down a few notes that he made up as he went along. Hermione sighed contentedly and wrapped her arms around herself, staring out into the glittering night. Ron breathed deeply, inhaling the scent of her hair, which hinted of strawberry and juniper and made him think of warmer nights, and the rich breezes of summer. That’s what she was to him, he realized...a warm breath of fresh air when everything else around him seemed cold. He looked at her sideways and wondered how this had happened. He wondered when exactly it was that the annoying know-it-all with bushy hair had become his saving grace. And as he watched her gazing out at the sky, he felt a hollow ache in his chest, as he realized once again how breathtakingly beautiful she could be, with her hair fluttering like that in the breeze, and her soft smile, and the way the shadowy moonlight played on her skin...

Ron shook his head as if to shake loose his thoughts, and cleared his throat. He had to start this conversation somehow. “So, um…what were you reading tonight?”

“Oh, that?” Hermione asked, motioning back towards her book which lay abandoned on the stone roof. “Actually, that wasn’t the book I’d hoped to grab when I was dragged away against my will,” she said playfully. “That’s a book about the Hawaiian wizarding culture. I was reading about their belief system. Actually,” she said, studious excitement creeping into her voice, “they have a very strong belief in astronomy and the power of planetary and stellar alignments in shaping the happenings here on earth. It’s very interesting really, but I’m not sure how it helps us –“

As Hermione rambled about her reading, Ron held a self pep talk in his head. Come on, he told himself. You can do this. It’s just Hermione. Just talk to her. Talk to her like you’ve always talked to her, and just let it come out…

“Hermione, I want to talk to you about something,” he blurted out. Hermione stopped short and looked at him curiously. He hadn’t realized that she’d still been talking, and he’d interrupted her. He thought he saw the faintest flicker of nervousness in her face, but it was quickly gone.

“What is it?” she asked. He tried to read her face, her eyes…he tried to figure out what she was feeling or thinking, but she was expressionless. He wondered how she managed to do that so well. He wondered if underneath that concrete exterior, her heart was pounding just as furiously as his suddenly was. And then he had a fleeting thought of insecurity. Why would her heart be pounding? Maybe she really doesn’t have any feelings for me at all and this is all just some huge mix-up.

“Ron?” Hermione asked, looking slightly concerned. He realized he’d been silent for nearly half a minute.

“Um, nothing,” he stammered. Her face fell slightly. “I mean, not nothing. I just…I just want to talk to you about this ‘corners of the earth’ thing. Yeah. Yeah, I mean, do you really think it’s real? Do you think we can find them? I mean, how do you think they ever would have come up with this crazy theory that there even are corners of the earth?” Ron knew he was babbling, but he didn’t care. As long as he was talking, he was safe. As long as he was talking, he didn’t have to face his feelings and take that leap…”All we know about these people is that they believe in this bizarre concept of planes of existence, and corners of the earth, and that they liked astronomy, and we –“

“Oh my gosh!” Hermione exclaimed, snapping Ron out of his diatribe.

“What?” he asked. Her face had positively lit up, and she literally jumped up and down.

“That’s it!” she cried, clapping her hands together.

“What’s it? What’s what?”

“Oh, Ron, you’re a genius!” Hermione grabbed her book off the floor and began running towards the stairs. Suddenly, Ron felt panicky. He couldn’t let her go without talking to her. He knew Harry was right; he had to talk to her now. He just couldn’t take the tension anymore. He had to get it out before he exploded.

“No! Hermione, wait!” Ron hastily gathered his things and ran after her. “Where are you going? I need to talk to you!” He followed her down the stairs, trying to catch up, but only able to watch her flowing black cloak disappear around the wall of the spiral staircase in front of him as they both ran. When they got to the bottom of the stairs, he followed her down the corridor towards the Gryffindor common room, trying to figure out why she was in such a hurry to get there.

When he finally made it inside the empty common room, he saw that Hermione had hastily shed her cloak onto the floor about halfway between the portrait hole and her table, and was now frantically flipping through books, tossing them aside as she disregarded each in turn.

“Hermione!” Ron called. “What are you doing? I was trying to talk to you – “

“I’m sorry,” she replied as he reached her side, “it’s just, something you said made me realize…maybe there is a way to find out where the corners are, if only I can find…” her voice trailed off as she anxiously searched through all her books, obviously looking for one in particular. “It’s not here,” she said, growing more frenetic by the second. “Damn. I have to go to the library, it must be in there!” She attempted to push past Ron, but he grabbed her arms, forcing her to halt. “Ron, what are you doing? I need to go to the library, let me go!”

“No!” he insisted. “This is it! I need to talk to you, we can’t keep putting this off!”

“Putting what off, Ron? What are you talking about? Can’t it wait?”

“Hermione, you know what I’m talking about, and no, it can’t wait anymore.”

Hermione froze. He saw the nervousness in her eyes again, and she glanced down at his hands, gripping her arms tightly, and she tried to step back, but couldn’t. “Don’t walk away from me, Hermione,” he said seriously.

“What then?” she asked. Her voice was still slightly frenzied, and in this state, Ron could see that she was letting her guard down. She was frustrated, and she had never been able to control her emotions well when she was feeling desperate about something. “What is it that you have to say?” He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. How was he supposed to say it? She wasn’t in the mood to wait, and when he didn’t continue, she tried to pull out of his grip again, the sound of tears beginning to creep into her voice as she said, “Let me go then! If you can’t just bring yourself to say it, I’m not going to wait around for you to get up the nerve anymore, Ron! I have something important to do, and –“

“No! Please, Hermione, please just give me a chance, I…” He stopped, trying to figure out exactly how to say it. Her eyes searched his and his heart pounded madly, threatening to break through his ribcage. “I just…”

“What?” she demanded.

“I don’t know how to say it! Okay?” he released her arms suddenly, and she stumbled a bit.

They just stood there, staring at one another for a moment, both panting slightly, and then all of a sudden, Hermione said, “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” and stepping forward, she lifted up on her toes, pulled his face down to hers, and pressed her lips firmly against his.

For a moment, Ron was too stunned to react, but then it was too late, because Hermione had pulled away, and the kiss was over. When she stepped back, all the vulnerability and fear she’d been hiding so well was evident in her eyes, right there at the surface. “Is that what you were trying to say?” she asked breathlessly.

He stared at her, and then, heart pounding, he reached out a shaking hand and took hers in it, tangling his fingers through hers. He cautiously lifted his free hand to her cheek, caressing the smooth skin like he’d wanted to do a hundred times. She sucked in a breath and lifted her free hand to place over his where it rested on her cheek, and then he suddenly stepped in and bent his head, gently capturing her lips with his.

In that moment, the world simply stopped spinning. For a dizzying and suspended moment, nothing moved, and then Ron slipped his hand around to the back of her head, cupping it gently and pulling her closer. Her fingers trailed down his arm, and the hand that he was still holding lifted up, her fingers snaking around his, mirroring the fluttering they both felt deep in their chests. That hand eventually found the back of his neck, drawing him even nearer, and he let his arm fall around her waist, fingers dancing against the small of her back. At his touch, she gasped against his mouth, and when she gently nudged his lip, that was all it took for him to pour his soul into her. All of his pent up emotion and longing was released in that moment, and all he wanted to do was touch her, and hold her, and kiss her. He was lost, falling, drowning, and he didn’t even care. All he knew was her...her lips, her arms, her touch, and her passion. And the knowledge that here she was in his arms, kissing him as desperately as he was kissing her drove him mad, and he couldn’t help but kiss her recklessly, clinging to the dream of her that was now a reality and was in his arms. A choked whimper from Hermione brought him back to reality, and he pulled away, breathless, just far enough to look into her eyes, and he was shocked to see that she was crying.

“Hermione...,” he said softly, his heart constricting. “What…?”

“Shhhhhhh,” she said, shaking her head, and pressing her lips against his again, gently trying to cling to the moment. He didn’t pull away until she did, and then he carefully wiped her tears away with his thumbs, holding her face in his hands and staring into her eyes.

“I was beginning to think you were never going to do that,” she said softly.

“I didn’t,” he whispered with quiet amusement. “You did.”

“Well, a girl gets tired of waiting,” she explained, smiling as he leaned in to kiss her on the forehead.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I don’t know why I couldn’t –“

“Stop,” she said. “It doesn’t matter now.” She wrapped her arms around his waist and relaxed against him, and he held her tightly, happy to finally have her in his arms where she belonged.