Dancing with the Green Fairy

Hermione decided to take an early train back on Sunday. She knew she should have visited her parents too, but she needed to get back to start some serious studying in the evening, or the impending doom would not be impending any more. Luckily they knew how to operate a telephone. So she called them from Paddington station. Over the noise, she managed to tell them she wasn't going to make it. Her mother sounded disappointed but she said she understood there was a lot to do.

The cold was getting better. Hermione figured the extensive Weasley pampering had been the cure. She had rested and been cared for, but she still hadn't opened a single book. She was determined to make up for that.

When she walked up the stairs to the apartment a few hours later she felt filled with resolve. She was still not completely recovered but she felt recharged and there was spring in her steps as she opened the door. She had a whole evening ahead of her to sort through all the texts and get her speed up. She might even have time to get started on preparing her interview with Lucius Malfoy. She had not told Ron or the Weasleys about that. They had had such a good time and she didn't want to make them upset. Arthur still loathed Lucius Malfoy and the subject of the Death Eaters always made him agitated. To be honest she had probably not wanted to think about all that. She had felt warm and cosy. Her mind had taken a break and forgotten all about the horrors of Azkaban and the fight with Philippe. She would have to deal with it soon though.

"Hey, you are back early." Monique suddenly appeared before her in the hallway.

"Yes, I needed to get back to get some work done," Hermione said. She started to take off her scarf and sweater but stopped and looked at Monique.

She was flustered and red in the face. Her hair was in a tussle and her lips were unusually red. Her clothes were wrinkled, and she looked like she had thrown them on in a rush. Hermione looked down. Monique was only wearing one sock.

"Why don't you study in the library? It is very nice there and quiet on Sundays," Monique said. She smiled an embarrassed and uneasy smile.

"You know I like to study at home," Hermione said. She looked at Monique who was blushing furiously. There was a feverish sparkle in her eyes and her breath was uneven, as if she had scrambled to get out in the hall. When Hermione was ready to step into the apartment, Monique didn't move. She was blocking the way as if she didn't want her to enter.

Hermione stared at Monique.

"Harry are you there?" she called out. Monique blushed even more, although Hermione hadn't thought that was possible. The apartment was silent.

"If you are going to come around and bang my roommate on Sundays you can at least come out and say hello Harry," Hermione shouted. Monique stared down at the floor without saying anything.

"Hello Hermione." Harry came into the hall wearing her bathrobe. He looked funny without his glasses.

"You said you had a boyfriend," Monique mumbled without looking up.

"Sure, no problem," Hermione said. She tried to make her voice even and unconcerned, but the whole situation was embarrassing. Harry just stood there smiling awkwardly at her without saying anything. She felt annoyed although it was hard to tell why.

"All right, carry on you two. I'll go to the library. I just need to get some stuff from my room. Oh, and Harry, Ginny asked about you. She wondered how you are. You hardly ever come to visit she said." She brushed by Monique and Harry to get to her room. She glanced quickly into Monique's room when she passed. The bed was a mess and Harry's clothes were spread on the floor.

"Who is Ginny?" she heard Monique ask Harry behind her. Hermione quickly shifted through the pile of books on her desk. Was she being mean? To be honest she was mostly annoyed to have the quiet evening she had anticipated spoiled. But at Hogwarts she had studied in the library all the time. She could go to the university library, no problem.

Those boys could be such boys sometimes. Especially Harry. She told herself she had no problem with him dating Monique, although it had been a bit of a shock almost walking in on them while they were at it. And why hadn't he told her? She sighed and put an extra quill in her bag. She just wished it wasn't a different girl every time she saw him. He didn't mean to be like that, mostly he was just scared, Hermione thought. Scared or scarred, she wasn't sure which, probably a little of both. To be honest I think I wish it had been Ginny. She stared out the window for a moment and then flung her bag on to her shoulder.

Before leaving, Hermione walked out to the kitchen to make herself a sandwich. Monique and Harry were sitting at the kitchen table. Monique was now more completely dressed and had stopped looking flustered; now she looked miffed instead. Harry traced his fingers through his hair and looked around.

"Where are my glasses," he mumbled and got up from the table.

"Are you sure you're all right with this," Monique asked.

"Sure, I was just a little surprised. Especially that you were trying to hide it."

"I knew you would take it badly," Monique said, and pouted with her lips.

"I'm not, I promise." You'd better not want him just because he is famous though. Hermione thought to herself. On the other hand he might only want you because your knockout body, pretty face, and innocent looking doe eyes. I don't know which is worse.

Suddenly there was a loud tap on the window. Hermione and Monique both turned to look.

"What on earth?" Hermione said.

Outside the window Jean-Paul and René stood on the minimal balcony, grinning madly at them. René had a basket in one hand and a bottle of wine that he held up to show them. Jean-Paul was waving with both hands.

Hermione walked over and opened the window. She realised she was grinning too.

"What are you guys doing out here? Come in." She opened the window wide and Jean-Paul and René stepped over the windowsill and jumped down on the floor.

"Should gentlemen such as yourselves really be looking in at ladies through the window like that. What if we had been walking around naked in here?"

"You are walking around naked?" Jean-Paul said. "Oh, Hermione...and I thought you were straight. You just broke my heart." Monique laughed and looked at Jean-Paul and René who both extended their hands at the same time towards her.

"I'm René."

"I'm Jean-Paul."

Monique pretended to not be able to make up her mind which hand to shake first and then chose Jean-Paul and then René. "Pleased to meet you both," she said and smiled.

"I think I might have seen you on campus at some point," Jean-Paul said. Monique looked pleased to be recognised.

She turned to Hermione and said in a lower voice, "You know, it is easy for you to judge me. It is raining guys over you all the time, isn't it?"

"I'm not judging anyone. I haven't said anything," Hermione said. "And what is this?" she said and turned to René who was starting to put food on their table along with two more bottles of wine. "I was going to the library to study."

"Wow, beware of the wrath of the Green Fairy," René said without pausing for a moment in unpacking his basket.

"Watch out or she will clobber you with a copy of Daniel Dennet," Jean-Paul said to Monique. "She is quite fierce."

"Green Fairy?" Monique said, looking puzzled.

"Did you guys just come in through the window?" said Harry, who had come back in the room.

"Yes we did, didn't we?" said Jean-Paul. He paused and look troubled, "Wasn't it Oscar Wilde who said 'a gentleman never looks through windows', much less enters through them? And isn't it true that we hold every word of Mr. Wilde in the highest regard, especially the funny ones."

"Oscar Wilde was gay. He didn't care if he saw anything in a lady's window. And I can tell you are not sir," René said, and looked at Harry's bathrobe. Then his eyes wandered to Monique and then Hermione. He smiled knowingly. Then he walked forward and stretched out his hand. "Hello I'm René."

"Harry Potter. Nice to meet you."

"This is Jean-Paul. We are in the same Arithmancy of Philosophy class with Hermione."

"Hello Harry," Jean-Paul said and they shook hands.

"Eh, I had been working out and I was about to take a shower," Harry said, looking embarrassed.

"So that's what we call it now," Hermione muttered.

"Don't let us stop you," René said. "Luckily we brought enough food and wine for all of us. You go ahead and shower and we'll set everything up here."

Harry smiled and nodded. Then he turned and left the room.

"Now look here people," Hermione said and held up both her hands in the air. "I don't know what you guys think you are doing, but I need to study. You can all hang out here and eat or whatever, but I need to go to the library and get some serious studying done, okay?"

"You need hugs," Jean-Paul said and turned around and hugged her. "We were worried about you and we came to check on you, to see you weren't still upset."

"You were?" Hermione said.

"After what happened in class we thought you might need hugs and wine, and maybe a few pointers about not taking Gaspard too seriously."

Hermione sighed. "You guys are so nice," she said. She sat down on one of the kitchen chairs and put her bag on the floor. She looked at Monique who smiled at her and shrugged. She heard Harry turning on the shower. She had been thinking about her empty apartment where she could study and really get some work done, and now it was turning into a madhouse, although a madhouse full of nice people, really.

"Where do you girls have wine openers?" Jean-Paul asked. He was rummaging in their kitchen drawers that mostly contained an assortment of notepads, salt packets, quills, spellotape, and some odd cutlery. "Did I tell you how Hermione got her nickname?" Jean-Paul asked Monique.

"No, that I really would like to hear," she said.

"From this," said René and put a bottle of green absinthe on the table.

"Wow, Hermione, you drink that stuff?"

"Only once," Hermione said in a low voice.

Harry came into the room. He was dressed now in black jeans and a white t-shirt. His hair was wet but he had put his glasses on. He leaned in and kissed Monique and then he sat down beside her. Jean-Paul caught Hermione's eyes and raised his eyebrows. He pointed at Harry then at her. Hermione shook her head and smiled.

"Do you people always party like this on Sundays?" Harry asked. He turned the bottle of green absinthe and looked at the label with curiosity.

"This is not a party. It is merely a quiet dinner with friends," René said. He took off his jacket and draped it on his chair before sitting down. Hermione looked at all the things they had gotten out of the basket. She realised it must have been magically enlarged on the inside. There were cheese, ham, and sausages, bread and croissants. Something that looked like lamb lay on a plate. There were pickles in a jar, omelette and cold pâté, even a salad with delicious looking vinaigrette in a small flask. Jean-Paul was serving wine in the odd chipped glasses that made up Monique and Hermione's sad collection of drinking utensils.

"And what wine would Harry Potter like today?" Jean-Paul asked.

Harry laughed, "I have no idea. I trust your judgement."

Hermione suddenly realised how hungry she was. She took a plate and started to help herself to large piles of food. So did the rest of the people around the table and they ate in silence for a while.

"Hey we should have candles," Monique said. She walked into her room and fetched her wand. She flicked it and conjured up some tall candles in candelabras.

"What a girly thing," René said and rolled his eyes. Hermione and Harry laughed.

"So what was the bad thing that happened in class?" Harry asked.

"Do we really have to talk about that?" Hermione said.

"Hermione got into a fight with our teacher," Jean-Paul said to Harry, ignoring Hermione. "She got quite upset and stormed out of the classroom."

"I'm sorry," Hermione said. She felt her face get red.

"No that is all right," René said and took a bite of a croissant. "Gaspard should be apologising to you. He should realise you are quite loyal to your friends." He glanced sideways at Harry.

"What did they fight about?" Harry asked.

"About you actually."

"About me." Harry looked astonished. "Why on earth?"

"Well, our teacher is a pacifist and he is quite critical of the approach the Aurors take to the Death Eater and Lord Voldemort problem."

"He wants to find a way to cure Evil," Hermione said. "He doesn't believe in violence."

"I don't either," Harry said. "Every morning I wake up and hope there will be a way to avoid the prophecy. Just the word prophecy makes me want to vomit these days. I would do anything to not have to fight Lord Voldemort to the bitter end, but everyone says it is impossible. I guess you all think I was born a fighter, but I never even defended myself when I was a kid and my cousin Dudley and his friends beat me up. Except once I apparated to the top of a roof to escape."

"You apparated when you were just a kid?" Monique said. Her eyes were round and looked even larger than usual.

"It was rogue magic," Harry said. "I didn't even know I was a wizard."

"You are Muggle born then?" Jean-Paul asked.

"No, but I was raised by Muggles. Anyway, I have never wanted to fight. Actually it is those pacifists that want to make me out to be a fighter. Okay, I organised the DA and fought with the Order of the Phoenix, but if I had known any other way to do it I would have done it. Believe me, I hate violence. All I want is for this to be over so I can settle down and do nothing for the rest of my life. Maybe play Quidditch, or heck, even watch television... whatever. Spend the day in bed."

Monique reached out and took Harry's hand and squeezed it.

"With company," Harry added.

"What is television?" René asked looking puzzled.

"Muggle stuff," Jean-Paul said. "Don't worry about Philippe. He got what he deserved. People get into rows pretty often around here, mostly over ideas where they hold strong opinions. We thought René and Soren were going to beat each other up last year."

"Oh, really?" Hermione said. "I thought you two were the best friends on earth."

"We are," René said. "I love him like a brother. But we had a little disagreement and it turned into a shouting match during classical mathematics. Although I would like to point out that no physical threats were ever involved."

"Whatever about?" Hermione asked. She was astonished. She would never have believed that Soren and René could become upset, and even more astonishing was that they had shouted at each other.

"The theodice problem," Jean-Paul said.

"What is the theodice problem?" Harry asked Jean-Paul.

"It is a religious paradox," Hermione answered him. "If God is eternally powerful he cannot be eternally good because he allows evil things to happen. But if he cannot stop the evil, if say there is a devil mucking things up, he cannot be omnipotent. Yet Christian tradition says he is both. How can he allow people to perpetrate evil on each other without intervening? If you have the power to stop evil and you just stand by and don't act, isn't that an act of evil in itself. You would almost be an accomplice to the crime, wouldn't you? It would be like standing by and watching a murder being committed while you had a wand in your hand and could stop it. How can a loving and omnipotent God permit that humans commit evil acts against each other? Well, that is pretty much the theodice problem in a nutshell."

"I have never thought about that," Harry said. "The Dursleys never took me to church."

"So Soren believes in God?" Hermione asked.

René laughed. "No, I do. Those damned Scandinavians are all a bunch of atheists. They pretended to embrace Christianity in the eleventh century but they shrugged it all off at the earliest possible convenience and returned to their Viking ways."

"You are probably just cross they kicked our ancestors' asses," Monique said.

"You believe in God?" Hermione looked at René baffled.

"I happen to be a devoted Catholic," René said in a proud voice.

"And you go to church and pray and all that?"

"Well, I reserve Sundays for religious activities mostly. But every Sunday I go to Mass with my mother, and I have done it all my life."

"And on weekdays you curse like a sailor," Jean-Paul said.

"God doesn't care how we talk, only what we say," René said.

"But I thought you were an Existentialist," Hermione said. She had an amazing image of René in his black suit and pony tail hair, walking arm in arm with a short grey lady who appeared very old for some reason in her mind, and how they sat in a church bench together singing psalms.

"I think, I am."

"So how do you explain the theodice problem then?" Hermione asked and folded her arms across her chest.

René didn't answer immediately. He reached into his basket and brought out a stack of small glasses. With an inward look and the faintest beginning of a smile on his face he carefully positioned the glasses in front of each person around the table. Everyone was looking at René, curious what he would reply. But he pretended as if he was alone in the room. He lifted the bottle of green absinthe looked at it for a second and nodded. Then he started to fill everyone's glass.

He put the bottle down on the table and looked up at Hermione with a mischievous smile.

"Is freedom woman's true nature?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. "If this is her true nature then it must be evident in all her actions and all parts of her life. Also in the event that she gambles her life away. She can only have the choice to do so if she is free," he said.

Hermione's jaw dropped and she stared at René.

"Do you have photographic memory?" she asked.

"Only when I'm listening to a particularly interesting lecture," René said, grinning at her.

Jean-Paul chuckled quietly and Harry and Monique looked like they tried hard to follow what was going on.

"He is quoting Hermione's own words against her," Jean-Paul theatre whispered to Monique and Harry, shielding his mouth with his hand. "Such a clever rhetoric. This might add up to an interesting argument."

Harry looked at Monique and raised his eyebrows. She shrugged and smiled.

"Oh, well." René cleared his throat before continuing. "So the classical answer is that God gave humans free will. Therefore we are free to make decisions including bad and evil ones. It is pretty much the same thing as you said in your lecture. If we cannot imagine every decision good and bad and select whichever we want we wouldn't have free will."

"I see," Hermione said while lifting the little glass and cautiously smelling the green absinthe.

"But why would it be necessary for us to have free will? I mean I certainly think it's nice, but couldn't God step in and correct our behaviour, just to make the world a little nicer. Remove the really nasty bits like murder, traffic accidents, torture and Avada Kedavra?"

"Ah, but you see that is not logically possible," René said.

"Not logically possible?"

"No, you see, God cannot work his will by changing our minds and influencing our behaviour. Since he is an omnipotent entity, if he was controlling us we would merely be an extension of him. We would cease to exist as separate individual beings."

"To exist is to think and imagine freely and to make your own decisions, good or bad," Hermione filled in.

"Exactly," René said. "Cogito ergo sum."

"Or rather, I'm pissed therefore I drink," Jean-Paul said and saluted them with his glass. "Cheers everybody."

"Cheers," they all echoed.

"Euh, that's bitter," Harry said.

"Here, have some sugar in it," Hermione said. "It will take the bitterness off." Turning back to René she continued, "You do realise that you just logically gave away your God's omnipotence though."

"You see how both combatants are well versed in logic thinking, trying to use it to overthrow the other," Jean-Paul inserted in a loud referee whisper, leaning towards Harry and Monique. "I would not be surprised if we soon see some serious napkin scribbling."

"No, no," René said, not listening to Jean-Paul. "Just because he chose to not control our human mind doesn't mean God couldn't if he wanted to."

"Ah, I see, it is like an 'or function', or union. Our minds are separate from God but somehow included in his sphere of influence. That doesn't really make sense."

"We still have free will," René said.

"But how can you know that you have free will then. If God can overrule it anytime, maybe he is controlling you without you realising it. And did you drink coffee when you were eleven already?"

Hermione shook her head to chase away the image, but it was like her vision slowly split in two and she was seeing the kitchen and another room at the same time, a room where a boy was reading something.

"Yes many people would like to think that is what is happening," René said. "They like the idea that they do not make the decisions themselves. And yes, in fact I always liked it. My parents didn't think it was proper for a child to drink coffee, but I always went down to the kitchen to help myself to some anyway. When we were alone in the house I asked the maid to make some for me. She said it would be our little secret. She probably thought she could use it for blackmailing me if I didn't behave in the future."

The boy laying on his stomach on the thick soft red Oriental rug did indeed have a cup of coffee beside him. A small whirl of steam escaped from the black surface and it looked delicious. It made Hermione long for Turkish coffee. But the boy was oblivious of the delicate smell, engrossed in a black book with silk thin gold-framed pages that he would flip carefully and slowly. It was a Bible.

"You grew up in a castle?" Hermione asked.

"God's main flaw is his utter flawlessness," Jean-Paul was saying beside her. "After all eternity is a very big number, half of it would be enough, but that is just as much."

"Well it wasn't exactly a castle, more of a mansion or something like that."

René had been getting pretty tall already at such a young age. He wasn't quite as tall as now, and a lot skinnier. Hermione could still clearly recognise him."

"Would you like some more absinthe," René asked.

"Mmm," Hermione said and held out her glass. She couldn't concentrate because she was suddenly filled with the craziest feeling and a very unfamiliar sensation that she couldn't name. René still lay on the soft rug reading and one of the tall doors at the other end of the room quietly opened. A young girl with blond, curly hair and a yellow dress came into the room, walking softly by the baroque furniture, passing a sofa and a coffee table. She stopped for a second to look up at one of the large oil paintings on the wall, and then she continued walking leisurely, as if she was not going anywhere in particular. She looked like a slightly bored eight-year-old doll.

"What is that strange feeling?" Hermione whispered.

"Well, it is a little like love and a little like amazement and wonder," René said.

"Yes, but mostly it is a feeling that you will never have to be alone, that there is always someone out there watching for you, someone who will guide you and help you. Someone you can talk to," Hermione said, and sighed.

"Exactly," René said.

"Your sister is very pretty."

"Yes, wasn't she a doll."

Hermione laughed.

She shook her head and stared at René. "What is happening?"

"I believe the absinthe is breaking down the brain magic barrier. Emotions, memories and thoughts are flowing more freely."

"René, you said you would play with me," his doll-like sister said. She took René's hand and tried to pull him up from the floor. He held on and continued looking in the book. "No, I don't want to play. I'm reading. Why don't you go and choose a song on the wireless and I'll catch up with you."

"Promise?"

"I promise, I'll just read to the end of this page."

"I can play with you," Hermione said.

"Who are you," the little girl asked and looked at Hermione in surprise.

Hermione giggled and took her hand. "I'm the Little Green Fairy. Why don't you show me where the wireless is." The girl smiled at her and squeezed her hand. Then she started to lead her towards the door at the end of the room. When Hermione looked up at the large oil painting. She saw it was a portrait of a man in a white wig and eighteenth century clothing, yellow knee long trousers, and a tailcoat. He waved at them from inside his golden frame. The movement made his head fall off and he caught it with both his hands like a basketball. The face smiled apologetically and he shrugged his headless shoulders.

"He always does that," René's sister said.

On the other side of the door, the grass was very tall, but it was soft and warm when Hermione stepped on it. She looked at her socks, thinking that she should probably have brought her shoes with her. They were at the door to the apartment. Maybe she could go back and get them.

"You better hold on to my hand," she said to René's sister. "The grass is getting taller. We'll loose each other in here."

She saw she still had the small glass in her other hand. Have I already drunk two glasses of this stuff? No wonder I'm going crazy. She stared at the empty glass. It smiled back at her.

"Is this really your memory? Don't tell me you used to have this meadow inside your mansion."

"No, this is Monique's fantasy. She wants to do something funny with that boy outdoors," René's sister said and giggled a slightly hysterical giggle. "In the grass."

"You may want to be a little careful what you think around here Monique," René said and put his hand gently on her shoulder. But Monique had started laughing and she wouldn't stop.

"So how does all this really work?" Hermione mumbled. The meadow had changed into a vast field and the grass was growing taller fluttering in the wind. The sun was unusually bright and had a greenish tint.

"Well I think I can show you some of it, if I had something to write on," René said and started reaching around his chair for the pocket of his jacket. He found his wand and said the incantation, "Alakazam Serviettes!"

"Here we go," Jean-Paul groaned.

René's sister turned towards Hermione and looked curious. "What are you afraid of Green Fairy?"

"I'm not afraid."

But the grass was getting very tall and the little girl was suddenly further away. "What if Mum and Dad don't like you any more Hermione? You'd better study hard and do everything right or they might abandon you. Out here in the grass anything can eat you." She seemed to become smaller and further away in jerky steps, like sudden cuts in a movie that were very abrupt and inexpertly done. After a while only the sound of her giggles remained.

"Here, look," Rene was saying, but his voice was more like a distant breeze that she could barely hear, yet she understood the words perfectly anyway. He was drawing something on the napkin. The funny thing was he really didn't have to, because she could see what he meant.

"Last time I only experienced synesthesia, but now I can see your memories," Hermione said.

"Are you sure that was all it was? Usually emotions and even ideas and memories tend to flow across the brain magic barrier. Of course the reaction is a little different from time to time, but if you don't overdose you should be ok. We share some emotions, that is all, you know. It's best done in a friendly crowd with lots of positive feelings flowing."

"Yeah, now that you mention it, I did see equations and math in the air when I talked with Gaspard. This seems a little dangerous. It feels like I'm going crazy actually."

"Nah, don't worry about it. The brain magic barrier is pretty strong in pure blood wizards, it shouldn't affect us that much."

"Oh, I see," Hermione said. "That could explain a thing or two."

"I guess when we talked about Sundays, something made me think about Marie again," René said.

Hermione paused. Then she turned to ask Harry if he was feeling anything, but he and Monique were sitting silently with their foreheads together and their arms around each other, staring each other in the eyes. Jean-Paul shook his head and rolled his eyes. She laughed at him.

"There should be something here in the book." René reached in her book bag that was still where she had left it on the floor. "There is a mention somewhere, I looked it up before. It would be more interesting with the Arithmancy though. Potions are so crude."

He handed the book to Hermione and pointed at the opened page.

"Wow," she said. Suddenly the room had filled with bright colours and a myriad of fumes. Somehow she could see how the ingredients of the potions interacted with each other and which order they must be mixed. The different properties were like patterns and all you had to do was to look at them and see how they fitted together. The Wolfsbane potion for instance that she had struggled with the other day. She flicked through the book to find the chapter. The instructions ran over six pages in a miniscule font. The timing and temperature of each step was critical.

"But this is silly really," she mumbled. She traced the finger over the page seeing the patterns swirling up from the page.

René laughed and looked around the room, "My God Hermione, you really are the most brilliant witch I have ever met."

"But you can do this much more simply" Hermione said. She stared, baffled at the book. How could she not have seen this before. She rummaged in her bag for a quill and an inkbottle. She put the ink on the table and took the napkin René was handing her. "Ok, cut this out and replace with a third of a toad liver... take step three and nine and replace with something, hmm... sulphur and a touch of moon dew. That should counteract the effect of the moon. Roast the rat tails and crush them and you get a stronger displacement effect. More napkins!"

"Here you are."

"Thanks. Okay, number twelve should be possible to remove, let's see." Hermione mumbled and scribbled while René leaned over the napkin to see what she was writing. She crossed out steps in the book and wrote the corrections in the margin. She felt like she was surfing on a wave of her own fascination. She wrote faster. Her emotions were like a distant roar that came closer and grew louder. It bothered her and she feared she might loose her thread of thought if she listened to it. She concentrated hard and filled napkin after napkin almost as fast as René could conjure them up. She wanted to catch this. If only the birds would not chirp so loudly. The sun was bothering her a little but she needed to write this down. Whatever this stuff had done to her brain was like rocket fuel and she needed to get her thoughts down before they vanished. But unfortunately she dropped her quill and when she reached for it, her book jumped out of her hand and started to sprint away in the tall grass.

"Hey come back here. Give me back my book," she called.

"No, I wont! You promised you would come and play."

Hermione chased after the girl across the field. She needed to write this down; she didn't have time to play. To her irritation, the girl found a door between two trees. She slammed the door behind her a second before Hermione could reach for the handle. "Give me back my quill, I need to write this down." She tugged at the handle but the door was locked.

"Please let me in. I promise I'll play with you if you only let me in."

"You always say that but you only want to read all the time."

Hermione pulled at the door handle but instead of the door giving away the handle itself became rubbery and gave way. She looked down and realised to her horror that it had changed into a snake. She let out a gasp and let go of it quickly.

"The Boy who Lived, and the wizard that wouldn't die, are they so different really?" the snake wheezed at her. Apparently, she understood parseltongue today. Well, maybe not, this was after all a dream, wasn't it?

"What do you mean? Can you all please stop talking in riddles? I just want my book back so I can finish working out this potion."

"Or talking about Riddle," the snake said. "You know there is more to the picture than the 's factor', the snake factor...or the sneak factor. Everyone wants to eat the cookies and have them still... be alive, but never die, love but never cry, cheat on your boyfriend and hope he never finds out."

Hermione ignored the snake and banged on the door with her fists. "Marie, let me in, give me back my book," she shouted.

The door opened slowly and the little girl's face became visible in the crack. "How did you know my name?"

"I don't know. You are René's sister aren't you?"

"Maybe. Come in and we can play."

Hermione pushed at the door, thinking that if she could only step inside she might be able to find her book.

"When you were little you always wanted to play," Marie said. "René is never afraid. He is my big brother."

"That's because he is never alone," Hermione said, and stepped through the door.

"Hide and seek," Marie shouted. She ran into the next room and Hermione ran after. But when she came into the room, Marie was gone. She looked around to see where she might hide. She saw that the whole room was filled with portraits of families that were posing together. They all looked very stiff and serious in their finest clothes, the way people would look in old photographs, when going to the photographer and have your picture taken was still a festive, unusual moment, and a great occasion. She walked a few steps through the room looking for the next door. She had a creepy feeling that the eyes of all the people in portraits were following her moves, but apart from that they all remained motionless, like Muggle paintings. A wizard wireless started to play far away. She stopped to listen to the sound, straining her ears to make out what it was playing. It seemed familiar. A ballad played on a single guitar by a singer with a harmonica, which he played between the verses.

"Even Lord Voldemort has got soul," he sang in the refrain.

Suddenly she spotted the little girl standing against the wall in front of her. She stood still, facing the wall.

"No," Hermione whispered. "No Marie! Please turn around." She felt the most terrible despair and horror, sadness and shock. She didn't know why, but the girl could not be facing the wall. She must not face the wall.

Hermione grabbed the girl's shoulders and tried to turn her around, but it was impossible. "Marie, don't go away. Please come back. You must stay with us. Please!" When the little girl wouldn't turn, she tried more desperately, and used more force. Maybe she was a bit rough but it was most important that she could make her turn back. She tugged at her yellow dress so hard that it ripped but the girl would not turn and face her. "Marie, look at me, damn it. You must turn around. Turn around now!"

But it was too late. The little girl in the doll-like yellow dress had already started to fade. Hermione fell down on her knees crying in her hands, "No, no, no, no, no."

The little girl was gone. Hermione had never felt so sad, alone, and terrified in her whole life. She curled up on the floor, and sobbed into her hands, shaking and freezing.

"Even Lord Voldemort has got soul," the wireless sang far away, over and over again,

in parseltongue.

Hermione woke up in the dark. She stared up in ceiling feeling confused. Where was she? Apparently on top of her bed, and someone had put a blanket over her. She was clutching something smooth and hard in her arms. Slowly she realised she was holding the bottle of green absinthe. She held it up in front of her in the dark. It was half-empty.

What the hell happened? What is wrong with me? She shook her head in amazement, which she instantly regretted. The room started to swim in a crazy fashion and a tremendous headache stabbed her behind the eye without warning. She closed her eyes and leaned back on the pillow.

After a while she felt better and she slowly sat up on the bed and looked around the room. The floor was littered with napkins filled with ink scribbles, diagrams and drawings. Had it never occurred to any of them to just go and get a piece of parchment to write on? Slowly she swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up. Her head pounded and she had to close her eyes to make the room stop spinning. She walked slowly into the kitchen that now lay in half darkness, only lit by the faint light from the street outside. There was no trace of the food they had eaten or the bottles of wine. She supposed the boys must have cleaned up before they left.

A single glass was left on the table. She reached for it to pour herself some water when she noticed a napkin under it. There was a message on the napkin.

Hermione,

Harry explained to me that you are Muggle born. I'm terribly sorry, but I didn't know that. I think you might have overdosed a little on the green absinthe. You would be more sensitive than the rest of us. It can be scary and confusing but doing it once or twice isn't dangerous really. You will have a terrific hangover tomorrow, I'm sure. Your ideas about the Wolfsbane potion were amazing. I'd like to discuss it more. You could really be on to something there, you know.

Yours,

René

He didn't think a Muggle born witch could be talented with magic, did he? Well, the best of us have unconscious prejudices it seems. Ignoring the spinning sensation when she leaned forward, she bent down to pick up some of the napkins from the floor.

Amazing.

I must stop this craziness. This stuff makes me crazy. It will kill me. She looked at the napkin a little closer. Did I really write this? Slowly she got up from the chair and walked back to the room. She peeked into Monique's room. Harry and Monique's heads were barely visible above the covers of her bed. They were fast asleep.

Hermione picked up the bottle of green absinthe that was still lying on her bed. She looked at it for a while. Then she walked back to the kitchen table. She opened her potions book and turned the pages to the Wolfsbane potion. Her writing was hard to read but it was clearly coherent, and she started to read the notes she had made. It was full of the most wonderful and clever insights, and leaps of thought that were breathtaking. At the same time she wondered why she hadn't realised these things before. It seemed very obvious once you had thought the thought.

She opened the bottle and poured a little of the green liquid in the glass. She sat and stared at it for what seemed like ages. Then she raised the glass and sipped its bitter contents. Careful now, just a little at the time. She opened the potions book and looked around for her quill.

She felt better already.