An Opus Alchymicum Vol 2: The Witch-Consul's Riddle

The Flamellian Ruby

Harry raced away and vanished into his mother's embrace while Hermione was still dusting Floo Powder from her robes. She decided, there and then, that this was far too messy a way to travel for her liking. It was positively heathen. She crossly expected to be picking little green specks from her bushy tresses for the next couple of weeks.

But she had more pressing concerns than her looks right now. For Sirius had gently steered her into the curved kitchen, under the pretence of making tea while the Potters enjoyed a family reunion. But he had a blatant ulterior motive, and he hissed it out, just as the kettle was hissing the boiling water as cover.

"So ... where is he?" Sirius demanded lowly.

Hermione swallowed, hard and nervous as she turned to look at him. "I don't know who you mean."

"Yes you do," Sirius insisted. "Your dæmon ... where is he? And where's Lyra?"

"Please, Mr Black ... I can explain ..."

"Yes you damned well can ... and you will," Sirius growled. "But perhaps not here. There is one thing you're going to tell me though."

Then he faced Hermione straight up, towered over her imposingly so that she bumped her back against the countertop. His expression was blacker than his family name.

"Tell me, right now ... are you here to hurt Harry?"

Hermione was terribly frightened for about three seconds. But then she relaxed at the question.

"Hurt him! Oh no, you've got that all wrong!" Hermione whispered back animatedly. "I came here to meet him, to help him, to - well ... that's why I'm here, anyway. I only have Harry's best interests at heart, I swear it to you!"

"I am very glad to hear it," Sirius replied, easing a little but still looking wary. "And your dæmon?"

"We can Separate," Hermione disclosed. "But he is at Hogwarts with me."

"Just like Lyra," Sirius nodded, remembering. "And where is she?"

"I don't know, exactly," Hermione confessed. "We took a house in Oxford, but I don't know if she's there now. It was like being at home, if you know what I mean. But she's off doing the same thing I am - trying to help Harry, wherever she is. We all are."

"We?"

"There's my ... my father, Malcolm, too," Hermione began, then she stopped and took a deep sigh. "Oh well, I suppose you know that I've not been entirely truthful so far. So I'll start again. Mal isn't my father, we are just pretending while we are in this world. Lyra, too."

"What ... so she isn't your mother?" Sirius hushed, odd relief in his voice.

"No, but we have to say she is," Hermione clarified. "It prevents awkward questions, you know."

"I do, I do," Sirius nodded. "Thank Merlin for that ... for a moment there, I thought you might be mine!"

"How could I ... oh!" Hermione whispered, then she broke out into a little giggle. "You and Lyra were intimate, weren't you?"

"Within a few days of meeting!" Sirius smirked. "Phew! That's a weight off. You've probably noticed with Harry that my parenting skills are a little wayward! I didn't want to ruin two children in one lifetime!"

"I wouldn't agree with that at all," Hermione frowned. "I've not known Harry a month and I already know that he's the best thing to ever happen to me. You must have had a hand in that, Mr Black."