Full Summary:We all know that Sarah decided to put away the book after the events of Labyrinth. But what was she going to do with all the other childhood trinkets? Get rid of them of course: one little red book makes its way into the hands of a girl who is more than she seems. Years later, history makes its rhyme as a careless wish is made, and two teenage wizards must retrieve their friend.

IMPORTANT! PLEASE READ BEFORE BEGINNING STORY!

Welcome all to my Magnum Opus. To give you a clue of how hard I worked on this: this story was started at the end of my April vacation and now here we are 66 MSW pages and over 35,000 words later. Unfortunately, this will also be the last piece of work I will be posting for some time as new things are going to be happening really soon and I just don't when or if I'll have the time to update. For all fans of any of my work, I sincerely apologize.

Potterheads: this one is for you. I am going to admit in advance that out of all the Potter shipping, Harmony is my OTP. However, this is closely followed by Ronmione which I wholeheartedly ship until the epilogue for personal reasons. I just wanted to warn you all in advance that my preference for Harmony might show in my writing unintentionally, but I did do my best to keep Harry and Hermione's relationship as closely neutral as possible. Please feel free to let me know if any of the characters seem OOC to you as this is my first time taking so many character from each of these verses and having them work off each other.

On another note, please take some time to cue up two videos which you will need for ambience later in the story: the siren song from Sinbad legend of the seven seas, and Narsilion's a night in fairy tale land. They appear in that order and it should be obvious when they start and end but if not just enjoy the music anyways.

Now that I have finished all my ranting, ENJOY!

Disclaimer: I do not own Labyrinth or Harry Potter, they belong to their respective owners, but I love them both with all my heart.

There were certain times in one's life where they finally needed to accept one universal, inescapable truth: that no one could stay a kid forever. No matter what they did, how they dressed, whether they were rich or poor; the advancing years were something that simply could never be avoided. So to grow up, one tended to push aside all memories of childhood, all mementos of your more embarrassing youth. The question was, how to do it in a way that would also be lucrative? Money was one of the principal ingredients to independence, key to asserting yourself as an adult. Aha! A yard sale, that would free up space and make her some money.

So that was what Sarah Williams did. She gathered all childhood objects that didn't have extremely special meaning to her and set about pricing them, enough to turn her a profit, not enough to dissuade people from buying things. With everything organized she asked her father and Karen if it would be alright to hold the yard sale during the summer next year, since most people weren't buying things they could already get here in town, and the tourist season wouldn't start until the warmer months.

And now it was here. Here she was, having gathered up all the old costumed that didn't fit her anymore and some of her old toys and books and ready to start over. Of course, there were some aspects of her childhood she simply couldn't let go of, her friends from the Labyrinth of course, but everything else besides what she had already bequeathed to Toby no longer had a place in her life.

Business had been going well, and Sarah was making a lot of money. Who knew kids would be so intrigued by a couple of old knickknacks and bric-à-brac?

"Excuse me miss," a soft cultured voice said.

Sarah froze up, that accent sounded so familiar that she immediately flashed back to the last time she had heard it. Last summer, when she had gone toe-to-toe with the Goblin King and won. She felt a tug at the hem of her poet's shirt. Turning revealed a little girl with wild brunette hair and inquisitive hazel eyes gazing at her observantly. Sarah instantly relaxed.

"Excuse me miss," she said again, and Sarah realized that that was where the accent had come from: the little girl was British.

"Oh, I'm sorry. You startled me," Sarah chuckled mirthlessly, "for a moment there you reminded me of…" She cut herself off; little kids could never keep secrets, "Never mind, is there something I can help you with?"

"Yes, I was wondering if you had any books."

"Books? Yeah, I have a ton of books. If you wanna follow me." She showed the little girl a crate of books she had set aside to sell and saw the look of excitement and awe on her face.

"You like to read?"

"Love to."

"So, how did you end up here?" Sarah wasn't an idiot; even she knew that her town wasn't that important in the grand scheme of the state of New York.

"Mother and father like to travel, they say it's good to have exposure to different cultures when you're young because it helps retain awareness when you get older."

"Oh?"

"Yes, they say it's good to know from the very beginning that there is more to the world than your own backyard, or something like that."

"But why here?" Sarah asked as she watched the young girl rummage through paperbacks and hardcovers alike.

"They have a strange way of choosing. They pull out a world map, and then one of them is blindfolded and takes a pin and places it somewhere on the map. That's how we choose continent, and then they take turns until they narrow it down to a single town. That's how we ended up here this summer." The little girl did not take her eyes off her hands and the books.

"Sounds like an interesting way to travel," Sarah remarked.

"Yes. I noticed you have a great deal of fantasy books and fairy tales."

"Do you not like them?"

"I like all sorts of books. Fiction, factual, once when I was waiting for a doctor in an exam room with my mum I started reading the chart on the back of the door. The doctor came in, and was puzzled how I could pronounce complicated Latin names when most adults required a few attempts at the same task."

"Impressive, find anything you like?"

"Not yet, but I am sure you have other patrons to attend to. I will let you know if I find something I like." Sarah had the feeling she had been dismissed, and went back to work.

Ten minutes later, she felt the same tugging on her shirt. Sarah turned to find the little girl looking up at her jubilantly, with whom she could only assume to be the parents standing in the background.

"Miss, I found a book I would like to buy." The little girl beamed as she handed over a small aged book, with a red velvet cover and gold stamped lettering over the cover.

Sarah stiffened and felt her breath catch. No, no she had locked up that book that same fateful night. Kept the only key to the lock on a chain around her neck so no one else could open it. How in the world had it ended up in that crate?

"Um, that book isn't very interesting," she laughed nervously, "Are you sure you don't want to try and find some other book?"

The little girl shook her head; "It seemed rather interesting when I browsed through it."

Sarah realized she would just have to be firm, "I'm sorry, but there must have been some mistake, the book isn't for sale."

"Oh," the little girl reluctantly handed the book back over to Sarah and went to her parents, gesturing to illustrate her point. They started walking away, but the little girl sent one last dejectedly longing look to Sarah, more specifically the book in her hands. She felt her resolve crumble.

"Wait!" She called, running after the trio "Here," she handed the book to the little girl, "take it."

"Thank you miss!" The little girl exclaimed happily, taking the book and clutching it to her chest.

"I can't thank you enough for this miss," the man replied, "Our little girl told me you wouldn't sell it, why did you change your mind?"

"I didn't, I'm not selling the book," Sarah told him.

"But, then why..?" The woman asked.

"You see, my mother gave me that book, but at the same time I can't stand seeing a sad child. So I'll cut her a very special deal," she knelt down to the seven year old.

"What do I have to do to get this book miss?" She asked shyly.

"Now, you have a good eye, this is a very special book, so I can't just sell it or give it away. I'll tell you what I'll do though. I'm going to let you borrow it."

"Borrow?"

"Yes, you can keep it as long as you like, but in exchange, I want you to do a couple of things for me when you get back home."

"Anything,"

"First, take good care of it. It's a very old book," the little girl nodded, "Next, I want you to promise me you will write to me every week."

"You want to be pen pals with me?" The little girl cocked her head to the side in confusion, "Why?"

"Because, you remind me of myself when I was your age, and sometimes having an older friend can really help. Just write to me every week and tell me about things, especially the book. We can have our own little book club, just the two of us." She wanted to keep the child from being sad, but she knew firsthand just how dangerous the words contained within that book were.

Sarah stuck out her hand, "Deal?"

The little girl seemed to ponder it for a moment before repeating the elder girl's action, "Deal," she replied.

"Good, I'm Sarah by the way. Sarah Williams."

"Hermione," the little girl said, "Hermione Granger."

Over the years, they corresponded and as Sarah had said, started a two-person book club. Hermione had a friend that she could confide in, and often used her letters as a sort of journal, one that just happened to talk back to her. Sarah listened to her problems and offered good insight and advice that helped solve a great deal of her problems before they got out of hand.

Naturally, Mr. and Mrs. Granger were wary of this. Their daughter was conversing with an older person, who was virtually a stranger to them, and you never knew just whom you could trust in today's world. But Sarah never came to visit them in England, though she did have their address and could have if she so desired. So they grew to trust in their daughter's correspondent and let it slide.

However, the summer before Hermione's twelfth birthday she received a piece of parchment that made a bit of a mess. They found out their daughter was a witch, and that she would be required to attend a specialized school in order to hone her abilities. The problem this presented was that she would not be able to write her companion on a weekly basis, as the officials of the wizarding world swore them to secrecy. Muggles, or non-magical people as the officials had explained to them, were not allowed to know of the whole other world that existed within their own. It was a safe haven for those who were different and did not wish to be persecuted for their uniqueness. Hermione was understandably distraught.

"I made her a promise! How can I go back on my word like that? After she has allowed me to keep her book for ages now!"

"You could always return the book to her sweetheart," her mother suggested.

"That sounds like a brilliant idea," her father chimed in, "You're getting a little old for fairytales anyways."

Hermione just stared at her parents as her heart clenched. No, she just couldn't send that book back, too old for fairytales or no, something within her very soul revolted against the idea. What she told them was, "I'll think about it."

She ran to her room and took out a piece of paper. Through blurred eyes heavy with tears she managed to scrawl a letter to her friend.

My dear friend Sarah,

I am in need of your advice. I have the once in a lifetime opportunity to attend a very prestigious private school, so elite that not very many people know of its existence. However, that will make it very difficult to keep my promise of weekly letters to you. Do you wish for me to return your book? I know that was the main reason for our correspondence in the first place. I await your answer posthaste.

-Hermione

Less than a week later a reply came.

My dearest friend Hermione,

That sounds like a bit of a difficult choice to make, but on the other hand I couldn't be more elated for you. An elite school? Here in America there are very few private institutions we are invited to attend before we apply for colleges and have the choice. While I must admit I enjoy hearing from you on a weekly basis, those letters seem petty and selfish if I have to keep you from going to a school that will prepare you for the world to come. Speaking as a college student myself, I know that it's difficult. Take the opportunity while you can. As for the book, I believe I said the same thing four years ago, keep it as long as you like and return it to me when you feel you no longer need it. Just be sure to tell me if the urge to say the Words ever strikes you. We all need a little magic now and then. As for the letters, simply write me when you can or, send a letter to your parents with my letter contained within and have it sent to me, and we can still correspond that way.

All my fondest prayers,

Sarah

Hermione now felt stupid, what a simple and easy solution. Simply have her parents act as mediators between Sarah and the wizarding world. She could still keep her friend and go to school. It was brilliant, and Hermione fell asleep with ease knowing she had one more alley of comfort.

Dearest Friend Sarah,

I have started school, and it certainly is different than what I expected it to be. We have all been sorted, based on different personality types I'm assuming, and have been given respective dormitories. Most of the students are nice, however like with all schools; there are some people who feel that they can treat others poorly with no repercussions whatsoever. I really do not like associating with them, but such things are unavoidable. I have two new friends, Ron Weasley, and Harry Potter who is something of a celebrity in our school. He's nice enough, and doesn't let his fame go to his head. I also have a favorite teacher, Professor McGonagall. You would like her; she's strict, but caring. She also helped me to find a safeguard for your book, which I must confess I brought with me. There was a bit of trouble I found myself embroiled in, but Harry saved me, which is how I grew to be such close friends with him and Ron. My final exams for the year are coming soon, so I will be writing you less often than is now the current norm. My fondest wishes and best regards.

-Hermione

Hermione,

I'm glad you're enjoying school. I know I never could until recently; there was simply too much going on in my life. Which is why I suppose I became so enthralled in fantasy and fairytales in the first place. It was a way of escaping the problems, not of my own making, around me. Eventually it was a crutch I needed to stop depending on so heavily. Not to say I cut it out of my life entirely, old habits die-hard I guess, but sometimes dreams can never compare to the real thing. Anyways, your two friends sound wonderful. I have half a mind to come and visit you spud ring the summer to meet them. However, I'm not sure how either your parents or theirs would feel about that. I hope to meet with you soon.

-Sarah

There was a distinct scent of old parchment and ink in the air. The quiet whir of turning pages marred the otherwise silent atmosphere of the Hogwarts library. Set far back in an otherwise hidden alcove Hermione Granger reclined on a sofa before a roaring fire, magically charmed never to get too hot, and not to go out until someone left. The small book she held in her hands was aged with love. The once ivory pages were now yellowed, the spine held numerous cracks from being opened so many times, and the once vivid gold leaf lettering that embossed the cover had only the outlines of the title left. A sigh of happiness escaped her lips as she finished the final few pages and closed the book with a satisfying whoosh. She sat there for a few moments, contemplating the fire. And just as always happened whenever she read this book, the sense of satisfaction quickly led to its opposite. Hermione didn't know why, exactly, but somehow the way the story ended was both satisfying and dissatisfying at the same time. By all logical accounts, the story was complete, all the loose ends were tied up, the villain was defeated, and the heroine lived happily ever after. The last paragraph just begged for the words "the end" to be scribbled in under them. More than once Hermione had felt the urge to do just that. However, her bibliophilic nature refused to allow her logical mind to desecrate the sanctity of any book by writing in it. Unless, of course, she was writing notes about certain important details in textbooks that she owned.

On the other hand, Hermione's heart clenched for some unfathomable reason whenever she finished the story. Something just didn't sit right with her, though it was only part of the reason she looked upon the pages so many time, it was still a crucial part and nagging sensation that irritated her to no end.

All the same, she smiled. This book had been her constant companion for nearly ten years. It was a fairytale she could never tire of escaping to, especially when other students grew to be too much to her. That first year, McGonagall had helped her to find and cast a special notice-me-not charm on a section of her trunk so that if it were ever broken into, no one would notice and take the book, as jealous and spiteful students were very much inclined to do. Now she was in her fifth year, and the whole Umbridge debacle, and still this had been a source for comfort. But maybe Sarah had been right all those years ago. Everyone needed a little magic in their lives, a fairytale to make them smile. But now Hermione was living her own fairytale, a bit darker than had been expected, but what fairytale wasn't when looked at more closely? She didn't exactly need the book in her life, so she resolved that as soon as school let out for summer holidays and she returned home she would send the book back to Sarah, who could find another child to give it to, perhaps her own if she had any.

Though, Hermione thought as she left the library to venture down into the dungeons for potions class, book safely tucked away in a special hidden pocket her mother had been generous enough to sew into all her school robes, Sarah had never mentioned having children, not even having a man in her life. Perhaps just as well, as Hermione was ten years her junior and probably wouldn't have understood the complexities of relationships between people. But surely she would have informed her friend if she was getting married, or having children, wouldn't she?

So preoccupied with her musings was Hermione, that she didn't see the other person coming until it was too late. The stack of books and papers she had carried in her arms were scattered throughout the floor, and she herself had tumbled backwards in the unintentional skirmish.

"I'm so sor-" the apology died on Hermione's lips as she saw just who it was she had bumped into.

Lavender Brown, all round uppity snob, member of her year's popular clique, and Ron's current love interest. Hermione stifled en eye role.

"Watch where you're going Granger." Lavender huffed as she went to stomp away without even offering Hermione a hand up. Hermione hunched forward to gather up her supplies when Lavender's voice sounded again.

"Hello, what's this?"

For some reason Hermione felt herself freeze. Adrenaline surged through her, and her hands started to shake uncontrollably. Instinctively, she reached for the hidden pocket where her book usually was. Her hand was met with empty air. Oh no.

Hermione turned to see Lavender examining Sarah's book. Normally, she would encourage the vapid blonde to pick up a book and learn something for once, but this was going to turn very bad, very quickly.

"Give me that book," Hermione said quietly, barely restraining the rage threatening to bubble over since she knew what would happen next.

"Fat chance of that," Lavender sneered as she flipped through the pages. A barking laugh escaped her lips, "I don't believe this, little miss know-it-all Granger still read, and believes in fairytales? This is just too good to be true."

"Give me my book now, or face the consequences." Hermione all but snarled.

"Consequences? What are you going to do? Tell a teacher on me? All I've done was pick up a book that was lying in plain sight in the middle of a public space. Nothing against the school rules."

"Taking someone else's property is."

Lavender flipped open the book's cover, "I don't see your name on it, and possession is nine-tents of the law."

"It belongs to an old friend of mine, who was kind enough to let me borrow it. Please give it back to me now." At her side her wand hand twitched, eager to hex the nuisance, but she couldn't afford the price.

A withering laugh escaped the other girl, "I don't think so," she tossed the book up in the air and caught it with one hand before turning and striding away.

In the same instant Hermione's wand found its way into her hand, "Accio book," she commanded, focusing on the book in Lavender's hand. It flew from the blonde's hand and landed in Hermione's. She glared at the other girl, "Don't ever attempt to take my belongings again."

Her tirade done, Hermione spun on her heel and stalked off, never noticing the darkening countenance of the other witch.

Much later that evening, in the otherwise empty Gryffindor common room, Hermione sat with Harry going over the potions homework. Dinner had been a rather quiet affair and now she was up late again since Ron always cajoled her raven-haired friend into putting his assignments off until the last possible moment. When she had stridden into the class hours earlier with the distinct look of irritation on her face Harry had asked what was wrong. After the class she had filled him in and even let him peruse some of the pages. He said he understood why she would want to keep it out of the hands of those who didn't like her.

They had just finished one of the tasks when the portrait swung open and angry footsteps stomped against the stone floor. In strode Ronald Weasley, whose face was as red as his hair. He didn't stop until he was right in front of Harry and Hermione.

"Is something wrong Ron?" Harry asked.

"Yes, you look fit to be tied," Hermione added.

"What's wrong? What's wrong! How can you just sit there like nothing is wrong when it so clearly is!" Ron roared.

"What do you mean?" Hermione stared at him in confusion.

"Don't try to act all innocent! I know what happened. How dare you run Lavender over and then steal one of her books right out of her hand! On top of threatening her!"

The redhead stood glaring at his friends, more specifically the female friend he never before would have believed was capable of this kind of treachery. Hermione, for her part, sat there and stared back at him, trying to figure out where he had been fed that load of lies. The answer smacked her square in the face and she groaned.

"And let me hazard a guess as to where you heard that from,

"Lavender told me everything!"

"Lavender also lies," Hermione retorted.

"Now now," Harry said, taking on the role of peacemaker, "you've only heard Lavender's side of the story. Give Hermione a chance to explain."

Thankful that her other friend was there to act as a buffer between Ron's rage and her own ire, Hermione started to speak, "First of all Ronald, the book belongs to neither Lavender nor myself. It belongs to an old friend of mine who allowed me to borrow it. I was exiting the library when I bumped into your girlfriend. My books went flying and she did not try to help me up, nor help me pick up my books. She walked away until she found my book and started teasing me about it. I summoned it back."

Ron stared at his friend, trying to determine whether or not she was telling the truth. Hermione met his gaze head on without smiling or looking away and without part of her face turning red, which he knew from experience with the twins were all sure fire giveaways. In the back of his mind, some part of him knew she was telling the truth, and for once the logical side of his brain won out over his emotional side.

"Hermione I, I guess you're right. Y'know what? I'm going to go talk to Lavender right now and tell her what's what."

"Good on you Ron," Harry said encouragingly.

"I, thank you Ron," Hermione replied with a smile.

With a grin and a salute, Ron marched out of the common room to go seek out Lavender.

He didn't have far to look. Ron had gotten no further than outside the portrait door when Lavender approached him.

"Won-won!" She said happily, "Did you bring me back my book?"

"No," Ron replied, "Because it isn't your book, now is it?"

Lavender paled, and her rage started bubbling, "What do you mean Won-won?" She asked in a saccharinely sweet tone.

"I mean that the book belongs to Hermione, and you tried to trick me into having a break with my mates."

Lavender pouted and glared at him a moment. Then she took a deep, calming breath and smiled seductively, eyelashes fluttering ever so slightly.

"Won-won," she breathed as she stepped closer to him. She placed a hand on his shoulder, "When have I ever lied to you?" This was whispered in his ear.

Ron breathed in, Lavender smelled sweet and savory, like all of his favorite home cooked treats. It was light, but potent, and without knowing it a fog rolled over his brain.

"N-never I s'pose," he stammered nervously.

Lavender's smile was reminiscent of the Cheshire Cat, "That's right. But if anything, I'd say your so-called friends have lied to you. Hermione just wants to keep my beloved book, and you know I think Harry has always held something of a torch for her," the last part made bile rise in her throat, but it was a necessary thread in the web she was weaving.

"You really think my friends are lying to me?" Ron asked dazedly

"Yes, I think they are. Doesn't that make you, angry?"

"Yes, yeah it does!" Ron was seething, his emotional side fueled by the effects of Lavender's perfume.

"Then you should go tell them that, and while you're at it, please get my book back?" She kissed him on the cheek, "I'll reward you handsomely for it Won-won, believe me."

Ron spun on his heel and stomped back into the common room. Watching him go, Lavender gave a smile that was pure Slytherin.

"Ron?" Hermione asked upon seeing the redhead storm back to them, "I take it you found Lavender, did you speak to her?"

"Oh I spoke to her alright," Ron fumed. Outside, the darkened clouds that had been hanging about the castle all day finally dropped their burden, unleashing a torrent of water while the wind howled. Muted by the stonewalls of the tower, thunder crashed ominously.

"What did she say?" Harry asked.

"She told me that you two were lying to me, and y'know what? I think she was right. Hermione I want that book back now!"

"Ron, what are you saying?" Hermione asked dangerously.

"I'm saying that you stole that book from Lavender and I want it returned to her now!"

"Ron, when have you ever seen Lavender willingly pick up a piece of reading material that wasn't a textbook or magazine?"

"Maybe she found this book interesting and decided to read it! Maybe you stole it from her because you were afraid of losing your title as smartest in our year!"

Hermione stifled an eye roll. Harry stood up to try and calm down his friend.

"Ron, mate, do you hear yourself?"

"Really Ron," Hermione added, "You're talking utter nonsense."

"Nonsense!" Ron roared.

"Please Ron," Harry all but begged, "just listen to reason."

"Reason? Reason! I'll show you reason!" Ron looked around wildly and spotted Hermione's robe carefully folded up next to her on the couch. He dove for it and yanked it, shaking it out until the book fell to the floor.

"Ron no!" Hermione yelled.

"Ron stop!" Harry shouted at him.

"No I won't, and I know you're only defending her because you fancy her!" Ron said as he scooped up the book.

"What?" The two exclaimed.

"You heard me!" Ron accused as he started flipping through the book, trying to find a nameplate in order to prove Hermione had taken the book from Lavender. Certain words popped out at him and he stopped, snickering in derision and disbelief.

"Are you kidding me?" Ron asked, "Do I look stupid enough to believe that Hermione Granger would read a fantasy novel? At almost of age? I think not!"

"Ron stop, give me back my book!" Hermione pleaded.

"Oh? So it's your book? If you insist on keeping up the lie fine, I'll humor you. But this makes it all the more laughable. Do you even know what this book says?"

"Yes Ron, I've read it at least once a week for nearly ten years."

"And I supposed you fancied yourself the girl? The one the Goblin King fell in love with? You make everyone think you're so much smarter and mature, but in reality you're the biggest child of us all!"

"Ron stop!" Hermione felt tears prick the corner of her eyes.

"Oh, look at this. 'But what no one knew, was that the king of the goblins had fallen in love with the girl, and had given her certain powers.' King of the goblins, certain powers. What absolute shite!" He tossed the book on the small table.

"I wish you would stop!"

"Ron! Can't you see you're hurting her feelings? Leave her alone!" Harry attempted to intervene.

"So, the little baby wants to go somewhere and sulk? Fine! Allow me to help you out. I wish the goblins would come and take you away,"

"Ron!" Hermione cried.

"Right now!" He bellowed.

The wind grew so forceful that the window was blown open and snuffed the fire. The entire common room was plunged into darkness. As lightning flashed, the shadows of spindly-limbed creatures danced on the walls. From a corner of the room, the boys heard Hermione shriek before it was abruptly cut short. When the lightning flashed again, giving just enough light to see for a split second, they discovered the witch was gone.

From off in the distance, they could hear one of the castle bells ringing. One, two, three… They felt the need to count the chimes, thirteen in all. From out of nowhere they heard the flapping of wings. Turning towards the open window they watched as an owl flew in from the storm. Unusual in itself, most owls would seek shelter from the wet weather in order to be able to fly, but they took refuge in the owlry, not Gryffindor tower. Even more unusual, this was a barn owl the school didn't own any, and none of the students, at least in Gryffindor owned one.

It flew about the room, once, twice before heading back out. And then, the show of a man appeared on the floor. Looking up the boys saw a man, yet he was not a man. He appeared normal, regal even in his black armored regalia, but something about this man was undeniably inhuman. So then, what was he?

He had wild blond hair and a sharp-featured face. Odd icy blue eyes regarded them coldly, one of the pupils larger than the other. His lips curled into a Malfoy-worthy sneer, but he said nothing. The boys stood there, fixated on the sudden appearance of the man, who was he? Harry tried to reason it out: he had never seen this man before, but something about him appeared familiar. While he was thinking Harry looked around and spotted the book, still on the table. Girl, words, certain powers, the Goblin King.

"You're him aren't you?" Harry asked, "You're the Goblin King."

His sneer turned into smug smile, but he merely tipped his head to the side.

Harry looked to Ron, who still appeared stunned.

"Um, we'd, we'd like our friend back please. If it's all the same."

"What's said, is said." He replied, his voice rich, low, and cultured.

"But," Harry sputtered, "but he didn't mean it!"

"Oh he didn't?" The Goblin King replied bemusedly, shooting a loaded glance over at Ron.

"Please," Harry nudged Ron to speak but the redhead stayed silent, "where is she?"

"You know very well where she is."

"Please bring her back," Harry beseeched him.

The Goblin King strode towards them, "Boys, go back to your rooms. Study, practice, and play. Forget about the girl."

"We can't, she's our friend!" Harry protested, grabbing Ron by the shoulders to speak on Hermione's behalf.

The Goblin King turned his attention to the ginger, "Ah yes, you. I've brought you, a gift."

He cupped his hand and twirled his wrist, and inside a small clear orb materialized.

The idea of a present seemed to snap Ron out of his stupor.

"A gift!" He looked at the orb, "What is it?"

A smile was his answer as the monarch began to dance it over his arms, "It's a crystal, nothing more. But if you turn it this way and look into it; it will show you your dreams. But this is not a gift for an ordinary boy who looks after and bickers with a small child," he shook his head at him, "Do you want it?" He asked, "Then forget about the girl."

Ron's face lit up with greed, his dreams for nothing. All the fame and wealth in the world. No more hand-me-downs, no more standing in the shadows of his older brothers. Lavender on his arm. Being the golden boy of his year. Being even more famous than Harry Potter himself! He opened his mouth to agree.

Harry, watching his friend's thoughts play out on his face, tried to stop Ron from trading his friend away, "Ron, wait!"

Ron turned to Harry, "What?" He asked irately.

"You can't trade Hermione away for a bauble like that."

"It's not a bauble, it's my dreams, all for the taking," Ron argued.

"At the price of your friend?"

"She's not my friend, she never was."

"What are you saying?" Harry asked dangerously

"Hermione Granger has never been anything more than a bossy, know-it-all bookworm. Always nagging at me to do my homework and such," Ron shook his head in disgust, "Better off this way for all of us really."

"Really?" Harry asked sarcastically, "You seemed pretty besotted with her last year."

"Well, last year was before I got involved with Lavender."

Harry had never heard his friend speak so cruelly of the witch, "But Ron," Harry replied, "Hermione does not belong to you, she isn't some mere toy for you to play with and discard at will. She's a person, her own person. And how do you expect we'll explain this to her parents?"

"I'm sure you'll figure something out."

Exasperated, Harry turned to the Goblin King, "Surely there's a way we can get her back?"

"There is," he replied.

"Sod that!" Ron shouted, "I want the crystal! I want my dreams!"

He turned to the Goblin King, ready to have his dreams handed to him. However, the monarch looked puzzled.

"Oh my," he said, "Isn't this an interesting thing."

"What is?" Asked Harry.

"It seems that your friend is about to make a decision on impaired judgment."

"What does that mean?"

"He's been bewitched."

"Bewitched?"

"A small dose, yet incredibly potent. However, fortunately for you, not permanent."

"How?"

"How would you wake someone up?"

Harry thought for a moment, "I've got it!" Instantly his wand was in hand, "Augmenti!" A stream of frigid water spouted from the tip of Harry's wand and landed on Ron, who sputtered and looked around bewildered lay as though he'd just woken up from a nap suddenly.

"Harry?" Ron said as he looked around, "Blimey, what's going on here?"

"You mean you don't remember?"

"I remember going to speak to Lavender about lying to me, that's all," he looked at the Goblin King, "Who are you?"

"I am Jareth, the Goblin King."

"I didn't think Goblins had a king."

"I can assure you, they do. Now back to the purpose of my visit, do you want your dreams or no?"

"My dreams? Yeah, I do!"

"Ron wait!" Harry exclaimed as Ron reached out for the crystal, "You don't know the whole story!"

"I'm sure you and Hermione will fill me in later," Ron looked around, "Where is Hermione anyways?"

"She's gone."

"Gone?"

"You really don't remember, do you?"

"Remember what?"

"Ron, you came back here furious at Hermione and me. You were raving like a lunatic. You grabbed Hermione's book and wished her away. The Goblin King is offering you your dreams in exchange for her."

"What?"

"Are you really going to trade away your friend for your own selfish gain? What if someone did that to you? How do you think your family would feel?"

"I, I,"

"Ron, was it?" Jareth said, "As fascinating as this all is really, I do have other things I need to attend to," he held out the crystal, "Do you want it?"

"I," Ron was having a mental breakdown. On the one hand, he really wanted all his dreams to come true. On the other hand, he'd be trading in one of his best friends to do it.

"Well?" Jareth asked impatiently.

"I, I can't," Ron said finally, "Not that I don't want it, not that I don't appreciate it. But what kind of friend would I be if I did?"

"Boys," he said as the crystal transformed into large snake. He passed it from one hand to the other, "Don't defy me," he threw it at them and as they went to untangle it from their necks it changed into a rope of magician's scarves. The dropped it on the floor where two goblins looked up at them and snickered. Behind them goblins laughed, but when Harry and Ron turned around the room was empty.

"You two are no match for me," Jareth told them haughtily.

"But we need to get our friend back," Harry replied.

Jareth tugged on the hem of one of his gloves. He strode through the common room to the portrait door. It swung open and he turned to face them, "She's there," he pointed behind him, "in my castle."

The boys looked at each other confusedly and walked through. Suddenly they weren't at Hogwarts anymore. They stood on the crest of a hill long since dead, with brittle yellowed grass growing up in sparse stocky clusters. Before them lay a maze of epic proportions, nestled within a small hollow like a child curled up in a cloth hammock. Off in the distance, a grand edifice rose, like a Phoenix from the ashes that were the maze.

"Whoa," Ron breathed.

"Do you still want to look for her?" Jareth asked.

"What is that?" Harry asked.

"My kingdom, and at the center, the city and my castle," Jareth replied.

"The castle is beyond the Goblin City?" Harry looked at the king.

"Turn back boys. Turn back before it's too late," Jareth warned them, though his tone did not indicate he wanted them to quit.

"There's no way we're going to do that!" Ron exclaimed.

"It doesn't look that far," Harry added as they turned to look back at their obstacle.

"It's further than you think, and time is short," Jareth told them, "Oh, and there is just one more thing," they heard a snap of his leather gloves, and felt something slip from their persons. They turned and saw him holding their wands.

"Can't have these in there now can we?" He asked with a smug smile.

"Oi!" Ron yelled.

"Why are you taking our wands?" Harry asked Jareth.

"There'd be no point if it was too easy, now would there?" Jareth replied patronizingly.

"Give those back!" Ron shouted.

"You'll get them back soon enough," Jareth said as he stepped back and indicated an antique grandfather clock face that seemed to have grown out of the branches of the black tree on the hillside, "You have thirteen hours in which to solve the Labyrinth, before your friend becomes one of us forever," he looked at the two of them, "Are you sure you want to continue?"

"We can't afford not to," Harry looked over his shoulder.

"Such a pity," Jareth shook his head as he started to disappear, "Such a pity."

And with that, he was gone; the only trace of him his voice echoing his last sentiments. Harry and Ron looked at empty air he had once occupied before turning to each other.

"Well," Harry said, "we don't have time to waste."

"Yeah," Ron agreed, "let's get going."

In the castle beyond the Goblin City, Hermione sat in the center pit of a large throne room, her wrists tied and goblins causing a migraine-inducing ruckus all around her. She heard normal footsteps echo off the cobblestone and turned to see the Goblin King striding to his throne, an oddly curved chair in the center of a small dais to the back of the rounded room. He sat, and she watched as he completely ignored the noisy creatures that were his subjects. He tapped a riding crop against his boot and sat in deep contemplation. Hermione didn't want him to find her gaze on him, so she stared at the floor of the little pit, mulling over a few thoughts herself.

She couldn't believe he was real. She couldn't believe any of this was real. It was more than a fairytale, more than anything she could have ever imagined. Who knew that the key to unlocking all of this was a few simple words? Hermione almost fell over, Sarah, Sarah knew. In her letters where she had vented frustration, Sarah had always told her to let her know if she ever had the urge to speak the Words. Hermione had thought it nothing more than an inside joke between the two of them. But Sarah knew, Sarah must have been here before. And she had never told her friend. Hermione's anger quickly melted away as her logical side told her that no one would believe her, least of all herself. How many times had she contemplated telling her friend what she was, only to change her mind because she was sure that Sarah would never believe that her friend was a witch?

If Sarah had been here before, maybe she knew the way through the Labyrinth. Hermione had to find a way to talk to Sarah. Feeling a pair of eyes on her, Hermione defiantly glared at the Goblin King. He didn't wilt under it like most had; on the contrary, he seemed amused by it. A trickle of chuckles escaped his lips from behind his gloved hand.

"Ah, such defiance. I have looked on that expression fondly many times before," He told her, "But in this instance it isn't going to do you any good."

"Why am I here?" Hermione asked him.

"You were wished away, why else?" He replied.

"But I'm too old to turn!" She protested.

"True," Jareth agreed, "Too old to turn, yet not too young to keep my dear. And keeping you is within my rights per the agreement with your ginger-haired friend if he is not able to win."

Instantly Hermione remembered what had brought her here, she was enraged with Ron.

"That insufferable git!" She growled under her breath, "How many times have I told him he needs to learn how to control his temper!"

Jareth seemed even more amused by her outburst, "That's it little one, yell and stomp and act just like the child you really are."

Hermione looked at him sharply, "Excuse me? Whom are you calling a child?"

"You of course," Jareth replied, "You are not of legal age as an adult. Therefore you are still able to travel between the worlds."

"And because I was wished away I've been placed here until my friends either come and save me, or lose and are sent back whilst all trace of me is wiped from existence?" At his nod Hermione sighed, spotting the large clock in one corner of the room, "Well, if I'm going to be stuck here for the next," she calculated the time, "twelve hours and forty-three minutes, can you at least untie me?"

Jareth looked calculating lay at her for a moment. Finally he snapped his fingers and a nearby goblin guard pulled out a dagger and cut the cord. Hermione rubbed the red lines where the rope had bit into her skin slightly. Now that she was free, Hermione realized she could use her wand and escape. She reached for it, patting spaces in her person where it could have been, yet now wasn't. Surely she couldn't have lost it during the journey between her world and this one.

As she frantically searched, she heard the Goblin King's voice lackadaisically ask, "Looking for something?"

Hermione looked up to see him spinning her wand through his fingers like a small baton, "How did you get that?" She sputtered in rage.

"Did you really think I'd free you from your bonds without making sure you couldn't escape?" He asked her haughtily.

Dammit! He knew that she would have a harder time escaping without the use of her wand. A wand was, in laymen's terms, a magical lightning rod. The wand did not have any magical abilities in and of itself, so a Muggle could pick it up and cast spells without anything happening. A witch or wizard's body was imbibed with magic; the problem was properly harnessing that power. The wand acted as a lightning rod in the sense that it directed the energy toward its intended target, which was why wandless magic was very difficult to master. It took a great deal of focus and control to be able to direct the magical energy from one's body to their target. Hermione huffed, this just got a lot more difficult.

"Come on Ron!" Harry called as he started down the hill, "We only have thirteen hours. Time is not on our side!"

"I'm coming!" Ron called back, the soft, loose ground falling away under his feet like sand storm the beach. He half ran, half skidded down the hill, bumping into Harry who had stopped short.

"Oi mate, what's the hold-" Ron cut short as he saw what Harry saw. A squat little man relieving himself into a small pond whose water had long since gone stagnant. They could do nothing but discreetly stare, the little man unaware of them and continuing with his business.

Eventually Harry cleared his throat, "Ahem, excuse me?" He ended it with a question.

The little man practically jumped out of his skin, "Oh! Excuse me!" He righted himself and turned to face them. Once he did, his face fell and he scowled, "Oh, it's you two."

"Can you help us get through the Labyrinth?" Harry asked.

The little man grunted unintelligibly and walked away. He picked up a small sprayer and began pumping it. Little things with soft, gossamer wings were flitting about.

"What is that?" Ron asked aloud. A little creature flew up to his face and smiled sweetly. It was dressed all in white, from white flaxen hair to white rose petal clothing. It grinned impishly, some strands falling away to reveal pointed ears.

"Looks like a fairy," Harry said as another one flew past his face and landed on a dry stalk of vines, "How sweet,"

"Fifty-seven!" The little man exclaimed jubilantly as he sprayed one with the pesticide, kicking dirt over it and tottering on.

Ron crouched down on the ground and picked the little creature up in the palms of his hands, "Why'd you go and do that you- Ouch!" He winced and dropped his hands. The little creature therein fell to the ground, "It bit me!" He exclaimed in disbelief.

The little man sorted, "'Course it did. What'd ya expects fairies to do?"

"I've always thought they did nice things like granting wishes," Harry supplied, "At least, that's what all the fairytale books have always taught."

"Humph, shows what you know. Come to think about it, shows what most humans know, don't it?" He snuck up on another unsuspecting one and sprayed, "Fifty-eight!"

Ron made a face of disgust, "You're horrible."

The little man turned to them, "No I ain't," he jabbed a thumb at his chest, "I'm Hoggle. Who are you?"

"I'm Ron. Ron Weasley,"

"That's what I thought," now Hoggle turned to Harry, "But ah, you I didn't count on. Who're you?"

"I'm Harry sir," he replied.

"Got roped in to all this didn't you?" He asked as he got another one, "Fifty-nine!"

"I actually volunteered. But that's beside the point. I have a question for you, do you know where the door to the Labyrinth is?"

"Maybe," Hoggle replied evasively.

"Well then," said Ron, "where is it?"

"Where is what?" Hoggle asked as he took aim again, "Sixty!" He hopped excitedly

"The door," Ron replied.

"What door?" Hoggle looked at them in bewilderment for a moment.

Ron felt his temper raise again, "The door to get in!"

"Get in where?"

"To the Labyrinth!"

"What about the Labyrinth?"

"Ugh!" Ron groaned, "It's hopeless!"

Hoggle continued limping forward, "Nothing's impossible. Not if you ask the right questions anyhow."

Harry, who had been silently watching the exchange, spoke up, "Can you please tell us how to get into the Labyrinth?"

Hoggle stopped, and slowly turned to them, "Ah…" He said like a teacher who had been given the answer they were looking for, "Now that's more like it," he limped a little and pointed his finger, "You gets in, there,"

The boys turned around and saw a giant gateway with two wooden doors that had appeared out of nowhere. With a foreboding groan they creaked open. Timidly, Harry and Ron approached it.

"You uh, really going in there, are you?"

"Yeah," Ron replied simultaneously with Harry's, "I'm afraid we have no choice."

Together, the two boys slowly inched their way in. As they looked about they saw nothing but high crumbling walls, shimmering in the sunlight, which stretched endlessly into the horizon. The pathways were littered with leaves, dirt, and other debris. And up above, the sky glowed orange, but it wasn't dawn. Harry and Ron looked at each other, both suppressing the urge to gulp like they were back in first year facing down the challenges to get to the philosopher's stone.

"Cozy isn't it?" Hoggle said loudly from behind them, making them jump ten feet in the air figuratively speaking. The little dwarf man laughed at them as he walked between them, "Now, would you go left?" He asked indicating the direction, "Or, right?" His other hand gestured.

"Hmm," Ron said in thought, "What does it matter? They both look the same to me."

"Well, you're not gonna get very far," Hoggle said sarcastically.

"Well, which way would you go?" Harry asked.

Hoggle looked surprised they had even thought to ask, "Me?" He quickly schooled his weathered features, "I wouldn't go either way."

Ron's temper flared again, "If you're not going to be of any help, you can just leave," he said harshly.

"Just like the others," Harry heard Hoggle mutter under his breath, "You know your problem?" He asked Ron as he started walking away, "You take too many things for granted. Take this Labyrinth for example; even if you get to the center, you'll never get out again."

"That's your opinion," Ron sated with confidence as he started walking on the path to the right.

"Well it's a lot better than yours!" Hoggle shouted indignantly as he started through the gates.

Ron stopped and looked back at the dwarf, "Thanks for nothing Hedgehog."

Hoggle fumed, "Grr, IT'S HOGGLE! And don't say I didn't warn you!" He stomped off.

Harry slipped over to the dwarf, "I'm sorry my friend treated you that way," he apologized.

Hoggle rolled his eyes, "Shouldn't that apology be commin' from him?" He nodded over at Ron's retreating figure with his head.

Harry ran a hand through his hair, trying to explain, "Ron's had a, difficult upbringing."

"No more difficult'n anyone else's life I'm sure," Hoggle replied.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Well, he's got clothes on his back don't he? And he ain't a scrawny little thing. Right?"

"I, we'll yes," Harry admitted, "But he's had to fight for the things he wants, had to fight to get attention."

"From a big family?"

"How did you know?"

"Come from one meself, but it don't give 'im the right to act like that," Hoggle said.

"I-"

"Oi! Harry! Come on we have to get going!" Ron's voice called.

"Get goin'," Hoggle ushered him, "You ain't got a lot of time,"

"Thank you for helping us get in," Harry said.

"Nothin' more than me job," Hoggle replied.

Harry nodded and ran off. Hoggle walked through the gates, "Nice boy, shouldn't even be here," he looked up at the sky, "What are you playin' at Jareth?"

The Goblin King had retired somewhere else some time ago, and Hermione was surrounded by obnoxious, drunken Goblins. Odd, they didn't look like the ones who worked at Gringotts. Those goblins looked more humanoid, while these were ruddy-faced and had earthen colored skin. They weren't as intelligent as the banker goblins, and they had an almost disturbing obsession with poultry: evidenced by the large number of chickens running amok in the throne room. They did have the same basic facial structure in common, the same small stature, even the same pointed ears. Perhaps the Gringotts goblins were a hybrid of humans and goblins, but there would be no way to know for sure unless she had resources to check her theory against. Oh, how she wished she were being held captive in a library.

"A library, a library. My kingdom for a library…" She muttered.

Wait a minute, castles always had libraries. They had to in order to keep census records and political agreement, the laws and the like. The Goblin King, unlike his simple-minded subjects, seemed cultured slough to even appreciate novels for personal enjoyment. Maybe if she found the library, she could answer her question about the goblins, and even find a way to contact Sarah or get out of here!

Hermione furtively glanced around. The creatures that were supposed to be guarding her were completely sloshed, there was no way she wouldn't be able to handle them if one tried to stop her. But still, better not to cause a scene in the first place. She carefully picked her way over and around goblins, and snuck up the stairs. She came upon a hallway with dozens upon dozens of doors; all of them exact replicas of one another. Hermione stifled a groan, even when you were stuck in the castle, the challenges never ended. Well, only one way to find the library, she started opening doors.

Ron and Harry had been walking for what felt like forever, forever in a straight line. To his credit, Ron had been remarkably optimistic, not blowing up at the first sign of difficulty. However, as his patience wore thin with the lack of progression, so too did his restraint on his temper.

"Labyrinth. What Labyrinth!" Ron complained, "There aren't any turns or any corners or openings! It just goes on and on!"

"I'm sure there's something here," Harry replied hopefully.

"We'll be stuck in a straight line forever!" Ron proclaimed dramatically.

"Ron!" Harry groaned, "Stop being so theatrical will you?"

Ron stopped, "Wait a minute," he paused in thought, "Maybe it doesn't go straight. Maybe it has turns and corners, and we're just taking it for granted that it doesn't."

Harry looked at his friend, "So how do we find them?"

"Just keep running," Ron replied, taking off in a sprint, ducking and dodging the obstacles in his path. Harry followed close on his heels, keeping an eye out for another direction they could take. Nothing came of their efforts and Ron slumped against the inner wall in defeat.

"'Allo!" Came a small, yet chipper voice. Ron looked around, seeing naught but a small blue worm with an orange scarf round its neck gazing at him inquisitively.

"Did you just say hello?" He asked in disbelief, he was a boy from a world of pixies, Giants, centaurs, and unicorns, yet the idea of a blue worm speaking to him was unthinkable. Harry would have laughed if he hadn't known it would anger the red head.

"No, I said 'Allo. But that's close enough."

"You're a worm," Ron remarked.

"Yeah, s'right," the worm replied.

Harry crouched down, "You don't by any chance know the way through this Labyrinth, do you?"

The worm looked at Harry and gave the shoulder-less equivalent of a shrug, "Who me? Nah, I'm just a worm."

"Oh,"

The worm looked back to Ron, "Come inside and meet the missus,"

"I can't. You see, we need to solve this Labyrinth. But there aren't any turns or openings. It just goes on and on and-" he was interrupted by the worm's chuckling.

"Well you ain't looking right. It's full of op'nings it's just you ain't seein' 'em."

"What do you mean?" Ron asked.

"I meant what I said, this place is full of op'nings. But you ain't lookin' right so you ain't seein' 'em."

Harry looked around, "Where are they?"

"There's one just across there: it's right in front of ya," the worm said, nodding over to the opposite wall.

The two boys looked at the space, they saw nothing but a continuous wall of crumbling bricks.

"No there isn't, well I don't see one," Harry said.

"Come inside and have a nice cuppa tea," the worm offered.

"But, there isn't an opening," Ron told him.

The worm laughed once more, "Of course there is. You try walkin' through it. You'll see what I mean."

Ron stood up and examined the wall, "You're bloody barmy, what do you mean there's an opening here?"

"Go on then," the worm urged, "Go on."

Ron looked at the wall and back to the worm, "But, that's just… wall. There's no way through it, not without our wands anyways."

"Besides," Harry added with a puzzled look on his face, "if I kept track the right way, that would be the outer wall of the Labyrinth. An opening there would just lead us away from our goal."

The worm shrugged once more, "Things are not always what they seem in this place, so you can't take anything for granted."

"I've been pranked by my brothers far too many times for something like this to get me," Ron said determinedly as he got up and faced the worm, "There's no opening here and to prove it I'm going to lean right back against it."

"I wouldn't if I were you," the worm cautioned.

Ron didn't heed the warning and decided to brace his weight against the stone. But where his back should have met solid surface, only empty air was there to greet him. He stumbled back a couple feet until he was able to regain his balance. Ron now saw what the worm had been talking about.

"Hey!" He exclaimed in both elation and confusion, "The little bloke was right!"

"I told you," the worm replied matter-of-factly.

"Well come on Harry!" Ron called as he started down the left path.

"Coming!" Harry ran after his ginger friend.

"Hey! Hang on!" The worm cried out.

The two boys backtracked and found the worm again.

"Thanks mate," Ron said, "right helpful of you."

"Yes," Harry echoed, "thank you very much."

They started off again and the worm cried out, "DON'T GO THAT WAY!"

The boys returned again, "What was that mate?" Ron asked.

"I said, don't go that way," the worm replied, indicating the left path. "Never go that way."

"Oh, alright then. Come on Harry," Ron said as he started down the other path.

Harry lingered a few moments, going over to the worm, "Just out of curiosity, why not go that way?"

"If he'd a kept on goin' that way, 'e'd a gone straight to that castle," the worm told him.

"But that's where we want to go!" Harry whispered furiously.

"You I'd say, could go down that path, but the o'ver one's got more to learn," the worm replied, "Everyone 'ere knows 'at."

"Ron has a lesson to learn?" Harry sighed, "This might take a while."

The young wizard stood from his haunches and ran to catch up with his friend.

After quite some time, Hermione had found the castle library. It had been a beautiful place, only rival to the Hogwarts library, but this one probably had older books lost to the mortal world eons ago. The thought made Hermione salivate with the hunger for knowledge. The problem lay within the fact that there didn't seem to be any logical system of organization. She went up staircases and ladders, trying to find a section on the history of the Goblin Kingdom. Nothing. And just when she had finally found a book that looked promising, the words inside were all written in some long dead language she couldn't decipher.

She had given up her fruitless search at that point, and went back to wandering the halls. At least this portion of the hallway had artwork to decorate it, unlike the only sconce hallways she had discovered previously. There was one particular tapestry she found incredibly interesting. It depicted a goddess, with hair of earth and eyes of jade, towering over a small version of the Goblin City, facing down an owl captured mid-flight. On the other side of her stood caricatures of three other creatures: a dwarf, a fox-hound, and something Hermione couldn't place a name to. At their feet boulders rested, a couple positioned to look as though they were hurtling toward the epicenter of the kingdom. Hermione's focus however, lay with the female. She looked familiar, maybe if she replaced the imposing a-line gown with something else. Wait! It was Sarah.

Unconsciously, Hermione reached out a hand to touch the tapestry. But instead of soft fabric, her hand met solid wood. Confused by the difference in texture Hermione put both hands where the fabric of the tapestry should have been, it vanished. In its place was a large wooden door with the words Aditus Mortale Saeculum carved into the stone above it. Instead of a normal door handle, a brass hand stuck out from the door extended as though waiting for a handshake.

Hermione started calculating. How to get this door open, it had to be complex enough so that the goblins couldn't open it, but it couldn't be overly difficult. Mind still working, she reached out and grasped it, the hand grasped back firmly. Hermione suppressed a scream and tried to retract her hand, the door held tight to her wrist. Furiously fueled by fear Hermione started wildly shaking her arm, causing the brass hand to move with it. There was a sudden click, and the hand let go as the door popped open a crack. Hermione was confused, why go to all that trouble to keep this guarded against goblins, aside from the obvious: their destructive behavior. That doorknob seemed rather extreme when the Goblin King could have just synced the door to his magical signature alone.

"What are you hiding in here Goblin King?" She whispered aloud.

Hermione glanced down both sides of the hallway before stepping inside.

The boys had found themselves in another part of the maze at this point. There were many arrows shaped like pointing hands, indicating to take all different directions.

"Well Harry, how do we decide which way to go?" Ron asked.

"I don't know, they all look the same to me," Harry replied, "Do we have anything we could use to mark our progress?"

Ron checked his pockets, "Um, nope."

"Neither do I. Oh, I wish we had something to mark our way!" Harry complained. Suddenly, he felt a weight in his pocket; he reached in and pulled out an inkwell.

"Did you make that thing appear?" Ron asked.

"I-" Harry stopped short, recalling the worm's words, "I must've forgotten I put a spare inkwell away. But never mind that, we can use this to mark which paths we take in case we end up going in a circle."

"Brilliant idea mate!" Ron exclaimed. He dipped his finger in the ink and made an arrow on one of the stones. They walked in that direction, while two small brownies came out from under the marked brick and flipped it, so the arrow was gone.

This continued for several turns, until the boys came to a dead end and turned back, only to find that the arrow now led straight into a wall.

"Someone's been changing our marks," Harry observed.

"What a rotten place this is. Oh, IT'S NOT FAIR!" Ron all but wailed.

Harry suppressed the urge to roll his eyes, if anyone knew this bit: it was him. Was it fair that his parents had been ripped from him in cold blood? Was it fair that he was sent to live with an abusive family, locked in a closet and barely fed for nearly ten years, and every summer after that? Was it fair that Tom decided to make him his sworn enemy and he constantly had to cheat death? Was it fair, that almost everyone who got near him wanted something from him? Money, fame, power, the list was endless. The only certain thing about life was that it was very seldom fair.

"That's right, it's not fair," called a voice from what had just been a dead end.

A similar voice added, "But that's only half of it!" Three sets of laughter joined in.

Harry and Ron looked over to see two oddly shaped creatures; -or was it four of them? - standing guard at two doors. One was red, the other blue, and each of them held shields with their respective colors emblazoned on them. Five hands held the shields up. The boys shared a look of confusion as they made their way over.

"Wait a minute," Harry said, "this was a dead end just a second ago."

The head at the bottom of the blue shield popped up from its ducked position, "No, that's the dead end behind ya!"

They whirled around to see that two walls had moved to form a new one.

"This place keeps changing, that's not fair!" Ron complained.

"So what do we do now?" Harry asked.

"Well, the only way out is to try one of these doors," said the head of the bottom of the red shield.

The bottom blue added, "One of these doors leads to the castle at the center of the Labyrinth, and the other one leads to…" Here he paused for dramatic effect, while the other heads made tensions building noises, "Certain death!"

"Oooh!" The three other heads of the guards looked at them.

"Well, which one is which?" Ron asked.

The two heads at the bottom of the shields looked at each other uncomfortably.

"Err, we can't tell you," the red one replied.

"Why not?" Harry pressed.

"Ehh, we don't know," the lower red admitted after some awkward murmuring with his companion.

"But they do," the blue one added as they looked up to the tops of the shields.

"Well, we'll ask them then," Ron decided.

"Eh no," the top red said, "You can't ask us. You can only ask one of us,"

The blue guard nodded, "It's in the rules. And I should warn you; one of us always tells the truth. And one of us always lies. Here's a little clue, he" he indicated the red one, "always lies."

"I do not!" The red one cried out indignantly, "I tell the truth!"

"Oh, what a lie!" The blue one quipped.

They bickered back and forth while the boys stared at them.

"Harry," Ron began, "how are we supposed to know what door to choose if we can't even tell which one tells the truth and which one lies?"

"Hmm," Harry said, "This whole setup seems familiar for some reason," he thought for a moment, "Now I remember! This is a version of the knight and the knave puzzle. Hermione once told me about it, she said that there's a simple way to figure it out, but I can't remember it."

"So what are we going to do?" Ron all but groaned.

Harry thought silently for a moment. Finally he snapped his fingers, "I think I've got it!" He turned to the guards, "Can you tell me what the exact rules are for asking you a question?"

"Well," the guards looked at one another.

"You are only allowed to ask one guard, one yes-or-no question," the blue head at the bottom supplied.

"As I thought," Harry replied, "Alright then, before I ask one of you a yes-or-no question I want to play a little game with you, surely that's within the rules right?"

"It's not against the rules," said the bottom red.

"Harry," Ron cut in, "we don't have time to waste playing games!"

"Excellent," Harry said ignoring his friend, "now I want you to listen closely to me. My name is Harry James Potter, I am sixteen years old, I have green eyes, I have black hair, I wear glasses, I can move my head up, down, left, right, and in all directions, I have no siblings, and one godfather, I enjoy my school very much, but I have a professor who hates my guts. Now, what is my middle name?"

"James," said the blue guard.

"John," said the red.

"Harry, what did any of that have to do with getting us out of here?" Ron asked.

"Give it a minute," Harry replied turning to the blue guard, "Now, what is your name?"

"Ralph," the blue one answered.

"Okay, Ralph. Does your door lead to the center of the Labyrinth?"

"Yes," Ralph replied without hesitation.

"Then that's the door we choose," Harry decided.

"How do you know?" Asked the Red Guard.

"Because, I asked you what my middle name was and you lied," Harry replied.

"But I have a bad memory!" The guard protested.

"Okay then, without looking, is the sky purple?"

"Yes," the guard replied.

"And that's how I know you're lying," Harry moved to the blue guard, "If you would step aside please,"

"Sure," Ralph laughed as the door behind him opened.

"Oh!" Ron said in comprehension as he followed his friend through the door, "I get it now. That game was a lying test!"

"Precisely, if we were only allowed to ask one yes-or-know question to one guard it would have been lost trying to figure out the liar at first. By tricking them into giving away the liar before I asked I saved us the trouble."

"Well, this isn't so bad, actually now that I think of it. It's a piece of cake!"

The floor beneath them opened up and swallowed them, and the boys fell.

Hermione entered through the door, softly shutting it behind her. As though sensing a presence various sconces flared to life, casting a dim glow about the room she found herself in. It was almost eerie, the silence she had found in the library completely different than the one she found here. In the library, it had been a welcoming friend. In here, wherever 'here' was, it was off-putting. Almost like entering some sacred space, but there was nothing remotely religious about it. As Hermione entered the room fully, she saw that it was spartanly decorated, with nothing more than a brocade chair and a large ornate mirror set in the center of the back wall.

"Mirror, mirror on the wall. Who's the vainest of them all?" Hermione muttered as she approached it. The glass was framed by dark, heavy wood, and seemed almost larger than life. Hermione approached it cautiously; wary of why the Goblin King would feel the need to hide something like this. As she got closer however, she saw an inscription engraved over the top of the mantle.

'Forged from ancient runes and fire,

Forged to show but one desire,

Here I am and here I stand,

Long before, and after, the age of man

Most unnatural Magick here,

Yet I am but a humble Seer,

So sooth, but part your lips and speak,

And I will show you what you seek.'

Hermione looked at the words and suppressed a huff. Riddles, of course it was riddles. Because of course they couldn't say things explicitly and make it easier for all involved. No, they had to put everything in rhymed riddles to be mysterious and enigmatic. It wasn't that the riddle was particularly difficult to unravel; it was just a nuisance to have to unravel it.

"So, this mirror will show me anything I want to see huh? Alright, show me Sarah," Hermione commanded.

Instantly the mirror's glass frosted over as colors swirled behind it. When it cleared Hermione saw Sarah, working the children's desk at the town library like she had told Hermione in a letter three years previous.

"Curiouser and curiouser," Hermione muttered to herself, "I wonder if I can speak to her. Well, I have to try, she needs to know what's going on," steeling herself, Hermione called out, "Sarah!"

Sarah Williams was just finishing up her morning shift at the library. This place had been her safe haven for as long as she could remember. When she had been five, and remembered going there everyday after school in order to find new fantasy books and fairy tales to read. When she was eleven, and her mother had walked out to pursue her acting career. When she was thirteen, and her father had brought Karen home, breaking the news that she was going to be Sarah's new stepmother. And finally, when she had been fifteen, and found out she wasn't going to be an only child any longer. After that fateful summer eve, she decided to volunteer her time as a way to get out, appeasing Karen's wishes, while still having her alone time. After she had returned home from college with a degree in literature she noted they were in need of new librarians, she immediately went to the local community college and signed up for a class in library sciences. Half a year later she started out as matron of the children's wing, and was the only one all the children listened to without question. Sure, it wasn't the glamorous job of a rising actress, like they had always thought she'd grow up to be, but Sarah found this job suited her far better. Acting was and always had been her mother's dream; Sarah had merely been using it as a source of connection with Linda.

She was just finishing up and getting ready to clock out when she heard it, "Sarah!"

She looked around, no one was calling her. But the voice sounded familiar…

"Sarah!" There it was again, and Sarah suddenly placed the voice.

"Hermione?" She said aloud, looking for her young friend. No, it was still during the school year for her. She couldn't have come all the way just to visit. Besides that, the children's wing was empty. And now that she thought about it, the voice of her friend seemed to be coming from within her own mind.

"Sarah help!" She heard Hermione cry out.

Instantly adrenaline surged through Sarah. Her senses went on high alert. Something was very wrong.

The boys fell down a long shaft, branches or something hitting them and snagging at their clothes on the way down.

"Help!" Ron cried out.

Their descent halted immediately and the boys could now see that the branches were actually grotesque looking arms and hands. A bunch of hands moved together to form a face.

"What do you mean help? We are helping?"

"We're Helping Hands," said another.

"No, you're hurting!" Ron exclaimed as he wriggled.

"Would you like us to let go?" One said with an ominous laugh as the hands let go and they started falling again.

"No!" Cried Harry and Ron.

More faces appeared out of hands.

"We'll come on then, which way?"

"Yes, which way?"

"Way?" Asked Harry.

"Up or down,"

"Come on, come on,"

"We haven't got all day,"

"Well it's a big decision to make,"

They were all bickering amongst themselves. And then one face turned to them,

"Which way do you want to go, hmm?"

"Which way? Which way?"

Harry looked to his friend, "Your call Ron,"

Ron looked around, wanting nothing more than to be on his feet again, "Well, since we're pointed that way. I guess we'll go down,"

"He chose down!" Said one.

"He chose down? Ahahahaha," laughed another.

As the hands started passing their bodies down Ron called out, "Was that wrong?"

"Too late now," came the reply from above as they fell into a dark hole with a cover over it.

At the castle beyond the Goblin City, Jareth watched the progress of the two young men in a crystal. All his goblins gathered around to watch.

"They're in the oubliette," he said making all of his subject laugh stupidly, "Shut up," he ordered, shaking his head at the image he held in his hand, "They shouldn't have gotten as far of the oubliette they should have given up by now."

A goblin stepped forward, "They'll never give up!" it protested.

"Oh won't they?" Jareth replied, "The dwarf is about to take them back to the beginning. They'll soon give up once they realize they have to start all over again," he laughed, the sound echoing in the relative silence of the room.

Jareth suppressed a sign of exasperation as he looked around, "Well laugh," he told them. The goblins started joining in on his revelry as he tossed the crystal up in the air and it disappeared.

He felt the need to gloat to his newest subject, but when he looked around to find her he realized she was gone. He nearly felt his heart stop in his chest. She couldn't be gone; he had left explicit orders to keep her in the castle at all costs. He whirled on the occupants of his throne room.

"Where is she?" He all but bellowed.

"Where's who?" Asked one of the goblins.

"The girl?"

"What girl?"

"The girl who ate the peach and forgot everything?" suggested another.

"No you fools! The girl you brought back here during the summons, I ordered you to keep her here!" He got no reaction, "Do you imbeciles realize that if she gets out into the Labyrinth, everything will be for not! No one unauthorized is supposed to interfere with the challengers. If she gets through the Goblin City…" He trailed off, still no response. In irritation he pinched his brow and sighed with frustration, "If someone doesn't tell me where she is this instant all of you will be bogged!"

The response was immediate. The goblins started talking to one another and finally found someone. He was pushed in front of the group before the king. The little goblin, with dirt brown skin and tattered clothes fidgeted. Jareth knelt down and picked it up by the scruff of his shirt.

"Do you know where she is?" He asked, calm tone not betraying the seething rage boiling beneath the surface.

"Lady said somethin' 'bout a wantin' a library. Whatever a library is."

Jareth coolly regarded the little imp for what seemed an eternity. Finally, he decided that it wasn't lying to him, and dropkicked it out across the room. He stormed away, heading straight for the library. He reached it rapidly and started looking around. Nothing, the library was empty. Ire mounting, he conjured forth a crystal.

"Show me the girl," he told it. The image reflected in the sphere enraged him. Immediately he transported to where she was. She was still talking to the mirror, oblivious to the fact that he was right behind her.

"Well, well, well," he purred darkly, "What have we here?"

He watched her spine stiffen instantly, ramrod straight with fear from getting caught. Slowly, she looked around at him. Jareth put a gloved hand to his chin in mock contemplation.

"Hmm, I don't believe you were given permission to be here, now were you?"

"I," she stammered, "I didn't mean to. I was on my way back from the library I swear!"

"Let me guess, you got lost?" He asked in condescension. She nodded, "Why do I not believe you?"

"It was an accident, I promise you that!" Hermione protested.

"Still, such deliberate disregard for the situation you're in. You need to be punished for such insolence to the king's authority," He laced an arm around her waist.

"Sarah help!" Hermione cried out as he dragged her away.

That feeling of wrongness just increased as Sarah made her way downstairs. She could feel her heart beating wildly out of her chest as she practically leapt down the stairs, heading straight towards the ladies' room. Once inside, she turned on the taps, splashing some cold water on her face to help cool her flushed appearance. As she dried off she took a few deep breaths.

"Calm down Sarah," she told her reflection in the mirror, "it's been almost ten years. Nearly a decade. Hermione promised me she'd tell me if she ever got the urge to wish someone away. There's no possible way she'd-"

Sarah cut herself off as a new thought occurred to her. Hermione had promised her, but no one else had. What if, instead of Hermione wishing someone away, she had been wished away? What if she was calling to her friend because no one was running for her freedom? No, Sarah wouldn't let the fate that almost befell Toby befall her friend. She needed a way to get back to the Labyrinth. That need intensified when she heard a cry of "help!" That was immediately cut off.

"Didymus, Ludo," she knocked at the mirror, "please!"

Harry and Ron sat in the darkness of the oubliette, groping around for some semblance of bearings. They heard footsteps echoing around the empty space.

"Who's there?" Harry called.

"Me," a gravelly voice replied. They heard a match strike against something, and suddenly the chamber was lit up. The boys turned their eyes to the source of the light and found Hoggle lighting a small candle at the edge of the room. He was chuckling lightly.

"Oh, it's you," Ron said disappointedly.

"Oh, yes well. I knew from the moment I saw you lot you was gonna get in trouble. So, I's come to give ya a hand," he watched the boys look around and shook his head, "Oh, you're lookin' around now aren't 'cha?" he said, leaning against the candle's table, "I s'pose you noticed there ain't no doors. Only the hole," he gestured to the hatch Harry and Ron had fallen through earlier.

"What is this place?" Harry asked.

"T's an oubliette. Labyrinth's full of 'em."

"Oh really?" Harry asked, intrigued.

"I didn't know that," Ron replied sarcastically.

"Oh don't sound so smart," Hoggle scoffed, "I bet you don't even know what an oubliette is."

Ron opened his mouth to retort, but caught Harry's pointed look and said, "Do you?" Instead.

"Course I do. It's a place ya put people to ferget about 'em!" Hoggle sniffed as he looked at them, "Now, what you need to do is get outta here. And as it just so happens, I know a shortcut out of the whole Labyrinth from here."

"No!" Ron shouted, "We can't give up now, we've come too far!"

Hoggle looked at them with a raised brow as if to say, "Really?"

Harry looked at the dwarf sheepishly, "Well, we're doing alright."

Hoggle tottered over to them, "Or course you are. But it gets a lot worse from here on in," he hesitantly patted their shoulders.

Ron looked at the dwarf skeptically, "Why are you so concerned about us? It certainly didn't seem that way earlier."

Hoggle started, "I, I just am. That's all. I mean, lost young boys, terrible black oubliette. You get the idea."

Harry looked at the dwarf and noticed a small bundle of baubles and bracelets and other assorted jewelry.

"You like jewelry, don't you?" He asked.

Hoggle looked at the raven-haired boy warily and instantly put a hand onto his bundle, "Yeah, why? What's it to you?"

"Well, back at home, I have a vault filled with the most incredible jewelry you could ever imagine. If you help us, I'll let you choose a piece to keep."

"I've had empty promises before, I knows 'em when I see 'em," Hoggle replied.

Off in the corner Ron stifled a groan, "I wish we could get out of here," he muttered under his breath. Almost instantly, he felt something bounce off the top of his head and land with a small clack on the stone floor.

"Ow!" He exclaimed as he searched around for the cause of his minute headache. His hands encountered a small circlet of smooth, clear beads, "What's this?" He asked as he held it up to the light.

Harry crawled over, "Looks like a bracelet," he said, "Hey!" He whispered excitedly, "we can use this to have the dwarf get us out of here!"

"You think?" Ron asked.

"Yeah mate, give it here," Harry took the bracelet and went back to Hoggle.

"Alright, we have a new deal for you. Take us to the center of the Labyrinth, and we'll give you this," he held up the bracelet, letting it dangle in front of the dwarf's face. Hoggle was practically salivating, which didn't go unnoticed by either boy.

"You like it, don't you?" Ron prodded.

Hoggle blushed, "Eh, so-so," he said gruffly.

Harry shrugged, "Alright then, we'll find our own way out."

"Wait!" Hoggle cried, "Tell you what I'll do, you give me the bracelet, and I'll show you the way out of the Labyrinth."

"You were gonna do that anyways!" Ron argued.

"Yes, well…" Hoggle replied, "that's what would make it a particularly nice gesture on your part."

Ron sighed exasperatedly and looked at Harry. Harry turned to Hoggle,

"Look, if you won't take us to the center, just take us as far as you can and after that we'll do it on our own," he held out the bracelet again.

Hoggle eyed the bracelet, "What is that anyway?"

Harry gave it a quick appraisal, "Looks like plastic."

Hoggle's face lit up with greed, "Oooh," he glanced around surreptitiously, "Now, don't promise nothin' but, I'll take ya 's far's I can. Then, you're on your own, right?"

The boys nodded in agreement and Harry handed over the bracelet, "Right," they said.

Hoggle looked it over in excitement and awe as he placed it on his wrist, "Right. Cooh, plastic!" He exclaimed. He walked over to a small lump of fabric on the ground and grabbed it. It revealed a small door-shaped piece of wood. Haggle picked it up and placed it against one wall in the oubliette. It stuck and he grabbed hold and pulled it open.

"Ah, here we go," Hoggle said as the doors opened to reveal, cleaning supplies. A broom fell out and made him realize his error, "Damn! Brooms closet," he said as he shut the door, looking at the boys and shrugging, "Well, can't be right all the time," Hoggle went to the other side of the door and opened it again, "Aha! This is it, well come on then!" He shouted as he went through. The boys looked at each other before following.

"This way," Hoggle said as he started leading them down a pathway. Along the walls, several faces were etched in stone that appeared to watch them as they walked by. Suddenly, from behind them they heard a number of deep, rumbling voices echo off the cavern walls,

"Don't go on!"

"Go back while you still can!"

"This is not the way!"

"Take heed, and go no further!"

"Beware, beware!"

"Soon it will be too late!"

"Yeah, don't pay any attention to them," Hoggle told Harry and Ron as they continued, "They're just false alarms. Ya get 'em a lot inside the Labyrinth, especially when you're on the right track."

"Oh no you're not!" Called another one as they walked by it.

"Oh shut up!" Hoggle snapped back.

They heard it mutter, "Sorry, just doing my job," from behind them.

Hoggle called over his shoulder, "Well ya don't have to do it to us!"

They came upon another false alarm.

"Beware! For the-"

"Just forget it!" Hoggle said with a hand held up in termination.

"Oh please," it begged, "I haven't said it since the last time we had a runner. Was about twenty years ago!"

"Oh, alright," Hoggle irritably agreed, "But don't expect a big reaction!" He added pointedly.

"No, no, no, of course not!" The rock face said gratefully, "Ahem!" It cleared its throat, "For the path you take will lead to certain destruction!"

Harry and Ron heard a noise coming from behind them. Out of nowhere and coming towards them was a lone, clear orb. Just like the crystals used by Jareth. They stepped out of the way and it continued rolling past even as the Rockface gave his thanks.

"Uh-oh," Harry said lowly.

"Oh no," Hoggle muttered as they followed it into another chamber.

It rolled and rolled, then decided to defy gravity and leapt into the tin cup of a blind beggar. The trio stopped a few feet away.

"Ah, what've we here?" He asked, tipping his head in the direction of the group.

Hoggle slammed himself back against the wall, catching Harry and Ron in the process and forcing them to do the same.

"Uh, nothin'," he said vehemently.

"Nothing?" The beggar repeated, tossing the tin cup aside, "Nothing!" He shouted, his voice sounding more familiar, "Nothing! Nothing tra la la?" He asked agitatedly, shaking the beggar's disguise before tossing it away.

"Your majesty," Hoggle said submissively, the most the boys had ever seen him speak thus far, "What a nice surprise."

The king arched a fine brow and smirked, "Hello Hedgewart,"

"Hogwart!" Ron corrected.

"Hoggle!" Both Harry and the dwarf corrected over them.

"Hoggle, can it be that you're helping these boys?" Jareth asked, slightly sarcastic, but with the air of one who knows the truth.

"H-he-helping?" Hoggle stuttered fearfully, "In what sense?"

"In the sense that you're leading them towards the castle," Jareth replied pointedly, his hands imposingly fisted at his hips.

"No, no!" Hoggle protested his innocence, "I was takin' 'em back to the beginning your majesty!" He hitched a thumb over his shoulder to emphasize his point.

Harry, who at this point in his life had fallen for enough lies to know the difference, kept silent and his expression neutral so as not to alert the king. Jareth, however, already seemed to know the dwarf was lying. Ron, on the other hand, did not.

"What!" He exclaimed in both anger and disbelief.

"I told them," Hoggle pointed at Harry and Ron, "I was gonna help 'em solve the Labyrinth. A little trickery on my part," Hoggle chuckled nervously. Jareth did not look so amused, "But actually-" the dwarf tried to continue.

"What is that plastic thing around your wrist?" Jareth interrupted, crouched down and looking closely at his subject.

"Oh!" Hoggle glanced down at his wrist before hiding his arms behind his back. He pulled them out again and looked at the bracelet once more, "Oh this!" He began laughing anxiously, "My goodness! Where did this come from?" He examined the circlet as though he had never seen it before, nor was he aware of how it had come to be on his person.

Jareth rolled his eyes and stood back up, "Higgle," he began.

"Hoggle," Hoggle corrected.

"Yes," Jareth drew the word out ever so slightly, "if I thought for one second that you were betraying me, again, I'd be forced to suspend you head first over the Bog of Eternal Stench, your tether a rope of spider's thread."

The Goblin King looked every inch the Fae monarch he was, looming imposingly over his feeble, supplications subject.

Hoggle gave a stuttered breath of fear before attempting to plead with his king, groveling at his feet and grabbing hold of Jareth's leg, "Oh please your majesty! Not the Eternal Stench!"

"Oh yes Hoggle!" Jareth replied wickedly, kneeing the dwarf into the wall before striding over to Harry and Ron, "And as for you boys, how are you enjoying my Labyrinth?"

Harry read the baiting expression on the King's face and wisely said, "We're doing just fine, but it has been a little challenging."

Ron, who wasn't about to be intimidated or emasculated, said, "Challenging? Please, this thing is a piece of cake!"

Jareth laughed, the sound reverberating lowly from his throat, "Ah, such a defiant answer. Your little friend must have rubbed off on you. Not the same way she has been on me, I can assure you, but still…" Jareth trailed off with a cocky, condescending smirk.

Harry just stood there, eyes wide, mouth agape. Ron's expression darkened, and the tips of his ears turned red.

"What did you say?" The redhead all but snarled.

"Oh, if only you could see her now," Jareth continued airily, as if Ron had never spoken at all, "All deliciously flushed skin, wild honeyed hair, and labored breathing. Well, actually," Jareth paused as though in thought, "you've already come this far in only four hours out of thirteen, you might just have the chance to see her. Though I do doubt it, she'll probably be worn out by then."

Ron's whole face was tinged a blotchy pink with his rage, his fists shaking with his fury, "Thirteen? Please, this place is so easy we could do it in eleven!" He boasted.

Jareth's brow arched again, "Oh really? Do you want to up the stakes then?" He held up a gloved hand, and another ornate clock materialized out of nowhere.

Harry placed a hand on his friend's shoulder, "Mate, no," he whispered quietly, "Don't listen to him."

Ron shook off Harry, "Yes, yes I do!"

Jareth's face at that moment reminded Harry of the Cheshire Cat, "Very well then," he twirled his finger in a clockwise motion, and two hours suddenly passed like that.

Harry groaned, "This isn't going to end well."

Jareth started striding away past them, but stopped and turned to the boys, "So, the Labyrinth's piece of cake, is it? Well, let's see how you deal with this little slice," a crystal appeared between his hands, and Jareth threw it into the darkness behind him.

A crunching, grinding noise began, and it was getting louder and louder and headed straight towards them. A large metal machine with hooks and claws and other unpleasant things. The Goblin King was nowhere to be seen.

"Oh no the Cleaners!" Hoggle cried out in equal parts fear and fury.

"What?" Harry yelled.

Hoggle shouted, "Run!" He started running, and so did the boys. But, as it was prone to do, the Labyrinth had changed things on them again. Now there was only a large gate with a rusted lock, and no key in sight. In other words, a dead end.

Hoggle groaned and grunted, "Oh! The Cleaners, the Bog of Stench. You two sure got his attention now didn't ya?" He rushed to a section of the walk that had been covered over with metal pieces and started pushing at it.

In yet another narrow escape for the boy-who-lived and his friends, the wall caved in at the very last second, taking them with it and out of the path of the Cleaners. It crashed into the gate and went onward into who knew where.

The trio got up and dusted themselves off. The sealed room held naught but a rickety, weathered old ladder.

"Ah!" Hoggle exclaimed, suddenly cheerful again, "This is what we need. A ladder, follow me."

"How can we trust you now that we know you were taking us back to the beginning?" Ron asked suspiciously.

"I wasn't," Hoggle grunted as he started climbing, "I told him I was takin' ya back to the beginning just to throw him off the scent."

"Hoggle," Harry began.

"How can we believe anything you say?" Ron interrupted.

"Well, let me put it to you this way ginger, what choice have ya got?" Hoggle replied.

Harry looked at Ron and shrugged, "He's right," he said as he started climbing. Ron reluctantly did the same.

As they climbed Hoggle started speaking, "See, you've gotta understand my position. I'm, a coward. And Jareth scares me."

"What kind of position is that?" Ron asked in disbelief.

"No position, that's my point. And you two wouldn't be so brave neither if you'd ever smelt the Bog of Eternal Stench."

"Is that all it does?" Harry asked, "Smell?"

"Oh believe me," Hoggle replied, "that's enough. But the worst thing is, if you so much as put a foot in the bog of stench, you'll smell bad for the rest of your life. It'll never wash out."

By this point Hoggle had reached the top of the ladder and pushed on the cover. It popped off and landed somewhere on the ground. Hoggle popped up and the boys soon followed, bewildered by the fact that they had just climbed out of a pot with a see-through table underneath it.

"Ah, here we are then," Hoggle said as he climbed down, "You're on your own from now on."

"What?" Harry and Ron said in disbelief.

"That's it, I quit." Hoggle replied.

"Now wait a minute!" Ron exclaimed, hopping down and giving chase, "Hoggle!"

"Said I didn't promise nothin'. I said I'd take ya's far's I could go," Hoggle limped away.

"You little cheat!" Ron hissed, "You nasty little cheat!"

"Now don't try an embarrass me. I've got no pride," Hoggle continued to try and limp off.

Harry, who was still sitting on the rim of the pot heard cranking and a thunk coming from below him. When he looked down into the chamber they had all just exited all he saw was darkness. The wall they had pushed down had sealed itself back up and that's when it hit him.

"It's a game," he muttered under his breath in shock, "It's all just one big game. When you finish one challenge it resets itself for the next runner," he looked up at the fighting pair and thought, "Maybe this is all part of the game too, there needs to be some way of motivating him."

He search Hoggle's form and remembered the little bundle at the dwarf's waist, "The jewels!" He exclaimed.

Ron heard this and went for the little bundle, "Gotcha!" He said triumphantly as he snatched the parcel of jewels and gems away, holding them high over the dwarf's head.

"Hey!" Hoggle cried indignantly, "Them's my jewels! You give 'em back!" He shouted, chasing after Ron who was now dancing about as he evaded the dwarf, the jewels dangling about with his movements, "Give 'em back! Give 'em back! Give those back!" Hoggle continued to shout as the scene drew itself out longer and longer. Finally Hoggle grumbled, "Oh give those back to me!"

"Sorry mate," Ron replied, not sounding contrite in the least, "but I think I'll hold onto these for the time being," he looked around, and saw his goal rising overhead, "Now, there's the castle… Harry!" He called over to his ebony-haired friend, "Which way should we go?"

Hoggle practically growled at the boy, "Them's my rightful property!" He said, jabbing an accusatory finger at Ron, "It's not fair!"

"Might not be," Ron said in reply, "but that's the way it is."

Harry chuckled, "By Jove, I think you've got it mate!" He exclaimed excitedly.

Ron looked at his friend, puzzlement evident on his face, "Got what Harry?"

Harry stared at his incredibly dense friend and resisted the urge to smack himself in the face, something Hoggle did not refrain from. Clearly they still had a long way to go both physically and in Ron's case, emotionally.

"Well," Hoggle grumbled, "I s'pose I can take ya a little further but-"

Harry and Ron looked at the dwarf, who had cut his own sentence short, with confusion. Why had he stopped, and why was he standing ramrod straight staring off into space?

Hoggle immediately started running off through the hedge mazes, Harry and Ron gave chase after.

Hermione was cold. But, she supposed, a draft was the least of her problems. After being found out by the Goblin King he had dragged her by the wrist out of the room. Her punishment, as he had described it, was to clean his entire throne room by hand, no magic allowed. He had the soberest of his subjects stand at attention so if he needed to check on the progress of the runners she had more difficulty running off. When she tried to ask anything, whether it be what her transgression was, or why he had a tapestry that depicted her old childhood friend his response had been quite brusque.

"It's really none of your business, don't you think?"

"None of my business?"

"My affairs: past, present, and future are mine and mine alone."

"I apologize for being inquisitive, your majesty," she had replied caustically, looking up from her hunched position with palpable ire flashing within her eyes.

"Your apology, offered however begrudgingly and half-heartedly, is accepted. Now get back to work," Jareth had said imperiously.

Hermione had been reduced to grumbling under her breath as she scrubbed away at the cobblestone flooring rather vigorously, all the while the watchful eye of the Fae monarch darted between her and a crystal he had conjured forth. The work was exhausting and despite the cold temperature of the air around her she was working up a sweat, which worked its way from her hair, causing it to grow wild and fall forth from its bindings. Her arms were aching and her lungs were burning from the dust and grime stained into the stone. Still, she scrubbed on. It was at this point, one of the littler, and therefore more lightweight, of the goblins decided to jump from the rounded window onto the only upright table that contained a cask of ale. He crashed into it, knocking it over and popping the top off. The entire contents of the cask drenched poor Hermione, who had been cleaning (or at least attempting to clean) right beside it. Hermione felt like a wet dog, the urge to just shake off the foul smelling concoction nearly irresistible. It was bad enough she had shrieked in surprise at the temperature of the alcohol, which was unpleasantly chilled and wreaked havoc on her body's process of homeostasis.

Jareth noticed and took pity on her, calling for her to stand and follow him. He led her down hallways, up staircases, through passages and back again until he finally reached the room he desired. In it was a literal mountain of fabrics, all different colors and materials. In one corner of the room a group of goblins, all female Hermione assumed, stitching pieces together and making clothing.

"Ahem," Jareth cleared his throat. The goblins stopped their sewing and looked over to see who had disturbed them.

"It's the King!" One exclaimed in a raspy, yet reverent voice.

They all set down their sewing and scurried forward into one cluster before the Far and his guest.

"Your majesty," they said as one, all curtsying deeply into the grungy stone floor.

"Rise," Jareth said monotonously. They rose and he continued, "Find this girl some new clothing."

The goblins looked to his side, as if just realizing he had a female guest with him.

"This the Girl?" One asked.

Jareth, who had begun walking away to resume his watch over the runners' progress, started and slowly turned around, "Girl?" He repeated, his voice tights and slightly higher than normal.

"Yeah, the Girl!" Another exclaimed.

"The Girl who Ate the Peach and Forgot Everything!" A third chimed in.

"No!" Jareth bellowed. Seeing the confused expressions of the creatures in the room he composed himself and tried in a much calmer, yet still regal voice, "No, that girl is not this girl. This is, well she can tell you her name. Just find her some suitable clothing to wear for the time being. I want her presentable in less than an hour," and with that, Jareth stormed out.

The female goblins looked to their new charge. In return Hermione stared back at them.

"So," one ushered forth, "why's the King want you to look presentables?"

"I had a bit of an incident earlier and now my clothes are simply filthy," Hermione replied.

The group looked at one another in both curiosity and disbelief as they began to surround the girl. Hermione fought the urge to fidget like a five year old under their scrutiny.

"So what'd ya do to get your clothes dirty?" Asked another.

"The King was punishing me for wandering off on my own by making me clean the floor of his throne room by hand. That was when one of his drunken subject decided to take a flying leap and crashed into the ale tankard, knocking it over and spilling its contents all over me," Hermione exclaimed.

One of the older goblins stepped forward and sniffed the air around Hermione and recoiled back in disgust, "She's right," she informed the rest, "the girl reeks of goblin ale. Very aged goblin ale, almost as bad as the Bog!" The others tittered and giggled as the older one, apparently the leader, turned back to Hermione and said, "Girlie, you need more than a new stitch of clothing, you need a bath!"

She turned to the group and clicked her fingers, "Mag, Sprock! Take this girl to the bathing chamber and get her cleaned up! We'll deal with the clothes when you get back lass."

Two younger goblins stepped forth and took Hermione by the hands, leading her into an adjoined room with a luxurious in-ground tub already filled with water and soft soap bubbles. Mag and Sprock ushered Hermione behind a bathing screen and urged her to give them her clothes. Only when they had left to launder the school robes and other clothing Hermione settled herself into the tub and relaxed.

Later, once she had finished cleaning up the mess the ale tankard had made of her hair, tainting it with the pungent scent of grain fermentation and turning it limp and lanky, she wrapped herself up and ventured back into the robing room. The leader of the goblin group spotted her immediately and ushered her forth.

"Well dearie, now that you're nice and clean we'll have to find something to put you in," she snapped her fingers and the others stopped their tasks in order to assist. Hermione found herself in front of another door. Behind it lay a room full of finished products. Day dresses and ball gowns, shirts, breeches, cloaks and capes. Rows and rows of these hung on racks that reached as far back as the eye could perceive.

"This is unbelievable!" Hermione exclaimed as the group split up in different directions.

"Oh no lass, it's nothin' like that," the leader, who had decided to join the mortal, explained, "Y'see runners aren't as frequent as they used to be, so less goblins are needed. That rowdy lot you met down in the throne room was all the men not in the Labyrinth with the challengers. And while they pass the time getting' pissed of their rockers, we girls like to be a little more productive. The King keeps us well compensated to prepare clothing. It's the Goblin Kingdom's number two export, and makes us the leading textile producer in the Underground!" She stated proudly as they walked.

"Really?" Hermione replied in disbelief, "I had no idea."

"Let me guess," the old goblin woman said sagely, "You saw the ramshackle buildings and the dingy walls of the Labyrinth and the sordid state of His Majesty's throne room and thought the goblin subjects weren't more than a bunch of good for nothin' drunks right?" At Hermione's guilty look the goblin woman gave a hoarse chuckle and continued, "Things are not always what they seem in this place, so you can't take anything for granted. Not the Labyrinth, not the subjects, and certainly not the King."

"Why do you say that?" Hermione asked.

"Well, what's your impression of 'is Majesty?"

"He seems," Hermione thought for a moment, "bored. As though he would rather be down in some haute couture district in London rather than here."

"So you see what he wants you to see," the woman replied, "King Jareth's a good man, but there really ain't much here for him. We goblins are very much simple creatures, simple to anger, simple to forgive, simple to please. That being said, the King don't really 'ave much in the way of kingly duties to fulfill since most of our disputes center around someone's rooster makin' another's hen 'ave chicks. Ah, here we are!" She declared as she stopped by a rack of day gowns matching Hermione's height, "Now to find a color that suits you," she started rifling.

"He lacks a challenge?" Hermione raised a brow, a bit confused, "Surely, he must deal with foreign affairs for other kingdoms."

"Most other kingdoms want nothing to do with us," the goblin woman explained, "King Jareth's a Fae, and most Fae don't like dealing with creatures they deem beneath them, present company included. His Majesty was assigned this kingdom when he was but a young lad, but unlike most, who would have found some way to get out of it, he stuck with it, stuck with us. And for that we goblins will always be loyal to him."

"You said that you don't get runners much anymore. There was a time when challenges were frequent?"

"Back many, many years ago. Even then, people who took up the challenge were few. In those days humans feared us and other races, as most that do not understand nor accept are prone to do. But when the plague struck, many families were dying off and women, well mortal women have a long way to go but it's not nearly as bad now. If a maiden was forced to bear a child she could not care for she would wish it away and we would make everything new. For the few that did attempt to retrieve the children, King Jareth's did just what he's doing now, bless his wounded heart."

"And what is he doing?" Hermione pressed.

"The Goblin King's most sacred duty. Time after time, runner after runner, he always plays the villain."

"The villain?"

"Yes, he wants to make it so the runners regret their decision and value what they have once they succeed in getting it back, but at the same time children are a precious commodity for the Fae, so he can't make it too easy on them. Most give up before the first hour is through."

"Wait, you said clothing was your number two export. Are you telling me you export the wished away children?" Hermione gasped in horror.

"It's a fact of life down here child," the goblin woman replied, "Fae live incredibly long lives, but at the expense of their child rate. Most are considered fortunate to even be with child, whether or not that child is born having no bearing on the matter. That is the purpose of the Goblin King, guardian of the lost and unwanted."

Hermione pulled out a promising dress and examined it before returning it, "So the reason goblins take children is to give other Fae families an heir?" She asked.

"Yes well, while males are preferable, any child is welcomed and loved. Unfortunately, there are some families with a history of fertile mothers, able to bear and rear their own children. They look down on those who have to adopt."

"Sounds like the purebloods back home," Hermione muttered under her breath.

"Purebloods?" The goblin woman stopped her search and looked at Hermione, "What do you mean by that?"

"You probably won't believe it," Hermione began, "but I'm actually a witch. And in London there's a whole world hidden apart from the Muggle, that is, nonmagical one. There are families who have a long lineage of magical members and no nonmagical, hence they consider themselves pure blooded. Then there are witches and wizards like me, born to nonmagical parents and called Muggleborns or, to the purebloods, Mudbloods."

"Bigotry ain't right," the woman replied, "unfortunately it's just a part of all life. People who will look down on others for stupid reasons. Here!" She stopped her newest diatribe and pulled out a rich periwinkle gown with lavender lacing at the collar and sleeves, "Try this on dearie, and see how it fits."

They wandered back to the sewing room where a small changing screen had been set up. Hermione went and dropped the robe she'd found inside the bathroom and out on the gown. It fit perfectly and she stepped out to her audience.

"Well, what do you think?" She didn't mean to sound insecure about herself, but she wanted someone to notice that she was more than a giant stack of books and a mess of wild hair. Goodness knows, Ron certainly hadn't.

There was a collective gasp when the women saw her.

"What?" Hermione instinctively snapped.

The oldest stepped forward, "Why lass, you look beautiful," she breathed reverently.

Hermione felt her cheeks heat, "Really? You think so?"

"Absolutely!" The oldest replied, "Just look at yerself!"

Hermione was brought before a floor length mirror and really took a look at herself. The bath had somehow tamed her riotous curls, turning them into sleek and soft waves that gently cascaded down around her face. The color periwinkle made her flesh turn to ivory, and the delicate lavender lacing added a sophisticated yet feminine touch. The long sleeves cuffed at the elbow, the material falling away to reveal her forearms while the lacing both at the bodice and the skirt gave her a fuller, more curvaceous figure. Hermione's breath caught in her throat, she truly did look beautiful, and the color of the gown made her recall the only other time she felt this way: the Yule Ball last year.

"Wow," she gasped, "is that really me?"

"Sure is lass," the oldest replied, "Now come on, the hour's almost up, and His Majesty's a stickler for punctuality."

"Thank you, all of you," Hermione told the group. She turned to the oldest, "Especially you' you know, I don't even know your name."

"I'm Morganna," the goblin woman replied.

"I'm Hermione,"

"Get goin' lass," Morganna replied, "But do come back and visit."

"I will," Hermione promised as she was led back to the library.

Jareth was already there, sitting at a mahogany desk overlooking some documents.

"Ahem," Hermione cleared her throat, crossing her arms and tilting her head.

Jareth looked up from his work, "Ah, so you were able to find something," He said as he rose from his seat and looked her over, "It suits you."

Hermione fought down a blush and thankfully emerged victorious. This man, Fae, male, was the enemy and she shouldn't forget that. However, if only to herself, she could admit that his natural charm was far more dangerous and frightening than anything he could ever do.

"Thank you," Hermione replied demurely.

"Indeed, you are most welcome," he glanced at a grandfather clock, "Well, it appears we still have quite a bit of time on our hands. Fancy a battle of wits?"

"Battle of wits?" Hermione repeated, a little confused by his sudden mood swing from earlier. However, not wanting to anger him, she replied, "I wouldn't mind that at all."

"If you would then," Jareth gestured to a small side table set up completely set up for a game of chess.

Hoggle was running as fast as his little legs could carry him, not one thought to the bundle of jewels he was leaving behind. Harry and Ron continued to chase after him. Left, right, straight, loops, all these were the directions he took as he scurried about. Finally, he seemed to be slowing, and the boys nearly heaved a collective sigh of relief. He ducked into a hidden grotto of the hedge maze and Harry and Ron attempted to follow suit.

Both Didymus and Ludo had come when she called.

"Sawah?" Ludo rumbled with concern upon seeing his friend, "Sawah? What's wrong?"

"Yes my Lady, what doth causeth these tears?" Didymus added.

Sarah raised a hand to her faces surprised when it came away damp with moisture. When had she started crying?

"I," Sarah stuttered out, "I don't know. But I need to get back into the Labyrinth. It's important!"

"Ah," said Sir Didymus, "My Lady, both Sir Ludo and I would love nothing more than to aid you in your quest. Alas, neither of us possesses enough power to do so."

"What do you mean?" Sarah asked sharply, "When you visited my room, after I had won, you were all really there!"

"Yes fair maiden, we have enough power to transport only ourselves. However, only the goblins and His Majesty are strong enough to take someone back with them. The only way we would be able to transport you back would be to combine our own power with that of Sir Hoggle's."

"Then we need him, can't you go and get him?"

"Game!" Ludo rumbled.

"Game?" Sarah repeated.

"You see My Lady, it seems we have another runner in our midst. We cannot interfere simply to summon our brother."

"But that's why I need to get back into the Labyrinth!" Sarah shouted, "My friend was wished away and I need to get her back!"

"Well, your friend must be in good hands," Didymus replied, "For we have a runner for them."

"But, I still need to help her. The only reason this could possibly be was because I gave her the book!"

"Then you must call upon Sir Hoggle and hope he will be able to come," Didymus told her, "Although, if I recall correctly, Sir Hoggle is half goblin. Perhaps he could get you to us."

"Hoggle is half goblin?" Sarah wondered aloud.

"Yes, I believe he said 'twas on his mother's side. At any rate, Sir Hoggle is the only one who can truly help you until you arrive my lady. Attempt to call him, and we will see you soon, yes?"

Sarah nodded and sighed. She took a deep fortifying breath and said, "Hoggle? I need you!"

Hermione sat down, choosing the side with the black pieces and Jareth sat down opposite her.

"I can see you are no stranger to this," Jareth remarked.

"Why your Grace," Hermione feigned ignorance, "whatever do you mean?"

"Coy too? I see I simply cannot underestimate you," he replied, "I am certain you are bright enough to know that we play by the rules of nature, hence your choosing of the black army."

"Ah, yes. Smoke before fire I was always told. So the first move belongs to me, yes?"

"Indeed."

Hermione thought over her options. It was always good to open strongly, but it was also a good move to set yourself up for defense. Hermione finally decided to move her queenside knight out to center stage.

Several turns later they were both down to nothing more than their King, Queen, and one pawn.

"It appears you are not one to be trifled with," Jareth remarked as he contemplated his next move.

"Many people have underestimated me, but I'm not the Brightest Witch of her Age for nothing," Hermione shot back.

"Indeed, care to prove it?"

"How so?"

"Tell me your insight on this board, why do you suppose we are down to these three pieces?"

"The obvious answer is that we've already captured all the other's pieces. But I suspect there's something deeper you're looking for. The King is the only piece on a chess board that cannot be captured, and for that it pays the price of being the weakest piece on the board, only able to move one space in one direction at a time. The queen, by contrast, is the most powerful piece on the board, able to move any number of spaces in any one direction during the turn. The pawn is nearly as weak as the king, however of the pawn is able to reach the other side of the board, it can trade itself for any one captured piece, making it much more valuable."

"Isn't it interesting?" Jareth said offhandedly, "The King, who is supposed to be the most powerful figure on the board, is reduced to nothing if his Queen is captured," Jareth picked up his Queen, "A King is supposed to be master of his domain, ruler of his kingdom, subservient to no one. And yet, a mere woman can undo him."

"Not just any woman," Hermione pointed out, sensing the conversation had moved beyond a simple game of chess, "Only a true queen would have that power. And only a true queen would be able to defend it all, her kingdom, her king, even at the cost of her own life."

"Perhaps you have a point," Jareth conceded. He looked at the clock, heaved a sigh, and stood, "As riveting as this game has been, I find I have something else that needs doing."

"Are you going to disappear again?" Hermione asked, "Where do you go to when you simply vanish?"

"I go to check in on your champions, Miss Granger," Jareth mock-sneered, "If I find they have gotten themselves into a situation from which self-extrication is not possible, I offer my assistance. Should they choose to accept it, they forfeit the challenge and are sent back Above. Such things are necessary when the runners are of age."

"What do you mean?"

"Did you think the Labyrinth was nothing but fun and games and moronic distractions?" He asked, "The Labyrinth tests one's determination and sincerity of regret. If it were so easy everyone who showed remorse for the wrong reasons would win their children back. And I ask you believe me when I say that for some, the children were far better off down here than they were up there."

"How so?"

"Once wished away children are placed with a family, they want for nothing. They are able to live full lives, are usually spoiled beyond belief, age most gracefully, and are practically immortal."

"Morganna said as much. But just to clarify, you don't turn wished away children into goblins?"

Jareth gave her a look that told her he thought her intelligence was synoptic with a table leg, "Goblins can procreate well enough on their own. Why on earth would I waste my magic turning intelligent creatures into bumbling ones?"

"But the book says-"

"I'm well aware of what that little red book says Miss Hermione, the fact that you actually believed it is what concerns me," Jareth looked at the clock once more, "But it seems this little conversation will have to be out on hold. I have runners to look in on and a kingdom to run."

And with that, the Goblin King strode to the window, opened it, and leapt: turning to an owl and taking flight.

Hoggle had finally reached his destination. A wall made entirely of glass, located in the Champion's garden. The call had come strong and urgent, and his heart was pounding with exertion.

"I'm comin' Sarah!" He called to the open air.

The visage rippled, and Sarah was suddenly there.

"Hoggle!" She exclaimed in happy relief.

"What is it Sarah?" Hoggle asked, "I ain't got much time to talk y'know."

"Hoggle, I need you to get me into the Labyrinth," Sarah said.

"I can't Sarah," he replied.

"Why not?" Sarah argued petulantly, crossing her arms over her chest.

"'Cause there's runners in the Labyrinth! That's why!"

"I know that," Sarah said, "but they'll never make it without my help. And, it's partly my fault they're there in the first place."

"What do you mean?" Hoggle asked suspiciously.

"The year after I won, I was having a yard sale, and the book with the words somehow got in there. A little girl found it and begged me to let her have it. I let her borrow it and she's kept it all these years. She's my friend and she could be in danger. Someone must have wished her away because I swear I heard her calling out for help. Please Hoggle! You have to let me in!"

Hoggle looked pensive for a moment. Finally he sighed, "All right, you can help them, but they gotta do it themselves, right?"

"Right,"

"Okay then, gimme yer hand."

Sarah climbed up on the counter of the bathroom and grabbed hold of Hoggle's outstretched hand. She felt him pull back and she went forward, feeling as though she was passing through gelatin. She landed on the other side of the mirror, and it fogged over behind her.

Sarah stood and brushed herself off, grateful the library allowed a semi casual wardrobe. She was dressed in a pair of black pants, a white blouse with black vest, and some sensible black flats. Not the best for an adventure, but better than anything else work appropriate.

"Alright, now let's go! We have to save Hermione," Sarah declared as she started walking off.

"Wait! Wait!" Hoggle called, "Dammit Sarah I said WAIT!"

Sarah stopped and turned, her hands on her hips, "Hoggle, I came here to save my friend. And nothing, not even his Royal Glitteryness himself is going to stop me."

"That's just it Sarah," Hoggle replied, "He don't know you're here. And I suggest it's in all our best interests to keep it that way," he started backing to an opening in the clearing, "I'm gonna try and find the runners, see whether or not the rat's with 'em, and if he ain't then I'll come and get ya."

"Hoggle!" Sarah groaned.

"Sarah please, I'm just tryin' to help keep you safe. You wanna be able to go home after this right?"

"Right," Sarah answered.

"Well, if he figures out that you're here before the end, you ain't gonna get that chance."

"How do you know that?"

"You wasn't here after it was over Sarah, His Majesty," at the title sarcasm liberally dripped from Hoggle's voice, "was in a right mess. Took me ages to be put back at the entrance to the Labyrinth."

"I see," Sarah replied.

"Y'don't, but that's besides the point. Stay here just a few minutes, then I'll come back and get'cha," Hoggle turned to go.

"Ok, and Hoggle?" Her friend looked back at her, "Thank you,"

"Don't mention it," Hoggle grumbled back good-naturedly as he disappeared behind a hedge.

Hoggle returned to the pathway and got a few feet before he bumped into the boys.

"Ouch!" He grumbled, "Watch where you're goin'!"

"Well sorry," Ron retorted sarcastically, "But you did abandon us in the middle of the maze when you said you'd help us."

"Never promised nothin'," the little dwarf groused.

"Promise?" Came a cultured voice from behind Hoggle. The dwarf turned to see his monarch once more, "Now, now Hogspit, if you made the boys a promise you really should keep it," Jareth drawled both smugly and lazily.

"It's Hoggle," the dwarf replied, "'nd I didn't promise 'em nothin'."

"And yet, what of your promise to me, hm?" Jareth raised a brow, "Did you not tell me that you were taking these two back to the beginning?"

"You ordered me to!" Hoggle pointed out, "I never agreed to nothin'!"

"Indeed, but as your ruler, receiving an order is like agreeing to a promise, is it not?"

Hoggle grumbled under his breath but didn't respond. Jareth turned to the boys.

"So, I see you two still haven't given up yet."

"Like we would!" Ron scoffed arrogantly. Harry wisely kept his mouth shut.

"I see," Jareth replied, "Care to up the stakes a little more then?"

Before Ron could answer, Harry shoved a hand over the ginger's mouth and said, "No sir, we're doing just fine right now. This is more than challenging enough already."

"Oh is it? Then perhaps you would care to go home?"

"What do you mean?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"I can end all of this now and send you home," Jareth told them as he pulled a crystal from the air and began to dance it over his fingers, "If that is what you so desire."

Ron, who at this point had managed to extricate his friend's hand from his mouth, said, "Sounds good to me. Let's go home."

Harry turned to his friend, flabbergasted, "Ron! How could you say that?"

"Harry mate, this is too hard. We'll never get to the center! I'm tired, and hungry, and I wanna go home!" He whined, and then turned to the Goblin King, "Send me home, now!"

Jareth smirked and shook his head, "I'm afraid I can't send only one of you home. You must both agree to give up if you want to go back."

Ron turned to Harry expectantly, "Well? Come on mate, let's go home!"

"No Ron," Harry said softly, yet firmly, "I'm not leaving without Hermione."

"Very well then," Jareth replied, "I will be checking in on your progress periodically, so you are aware. And if I find you in something you could not possibly get yourselves out of you will forcibly forfeit, since I am not one to risk your deaths simply because of stubbornness. Is that clear?"

Harry resisted a gulp and said, "Crystal, sir."

With that, Jareth vanished back to his castle and the three were alone once more. Hoggle started backtracking when they heard a rush of feminine laughter. The three makes turned to see a woman dressed more for a business meeting than a race against the clock emerging from a hidden grotto, a hand over her mouth in a paltry attempt to muffle her mirth.

"Crystal clear, that was a good one," she said as her chuckles tapered off, "Now," she drawled as she placed her hands on her hips, "which one of you said the words?"

The boys were still too stunned to answer audibly. However, Harry did point to Ron without hesitation.

She shook her head and sighed, "Don't you know that words have power?" She asked, "Well, what's said is said and there's no taking it back. Now we need to figure out how to get to the castle from here," the woman turned to Hoggle, "Hoggle?"

"Yes?"

"Which way leads back to the Wiseman's chair?"

"That way," Hoggle pointed in a direction.

"Then that's the way we'll go, for now," she started off and the boys finally regained their ability to speak.

"Wait just one minute!" Ron shouted, "Who do you think you are, ordering us around like this?"

The woman turned to them and placed her hands on her hips, looking as regal and imposing as a queen, "I'm Sarah Williams, Champion of the Labyrinth and good friend to the girl I'm assuming you wished away. Who are you?"

"I'm Ron Weasley," Ron replied.

"And I'm Harry Potter," Harry added.

Sarah placed a hand to her chin, as though trying to remember something, "Ron and Harry hm? Oh yes! Now I remember. Hermione often speaks fondly of you, well one more than the other. But I'm sure you can figure that out on your own."

"Wait, you know Hermione?" Harry asked.

"I've been friends with Hermione since she was nearly seven years old. So yes, I'd say I know her very well."

"She never told us about you," Ron said in a tone of voice that was somehow supposed to make Sarah feel as though she was her friend's dirty little secret. Sarah didn't take the bait.

"I can't see why she would, after all I am about a decade older than you three. People would think it strange. Now as riveting as all of this is, we're wasting time. Thirteen hours should be enough but I don't know how long you've been down here and how much time has passed."

"Eleven," Harry corrected quietly.

"What did you say?" Sarah asked.

"We have less than eleven hours now," Harry repeated.

"How did you waste all that time and only come to the hedge maze?" Sarah groaned.

"They woulda had more time if somebody had kept his big mouth shut," Hoggle chimed in.

Based on the descriptions of the boys' personalities and attitudes towards figures of authority, Sarah could hazard a guess as to who had cost them time. She cast a critical eye on Ron.

"I see," she said, "well we need to get going so follow me." She went to walk again when Ron's voice stopped her.

"Why should we listen to you?"

"I've beaten this Labyrinth before. I'm telling you I can do it again, and it's helpful to have a guide who knows what they're doing. Now come on!" This time she started off on the path with Hoggle beside her and no intention of looking back. Harry looked at his friend and shrugged before tagging along, leaving Ron no choice but to follow after.

They backtracked to the center of the hedge maze, and Sarah saw the Wiseman and his hat lumbering towards their seat.

"Well, well," Sarah said as they passed, "long time no see."

The Wiseman and the hat looked at her.

"My word!" the Wiseman exclaimed, "Could it be?"

"Yes, the young girl's all grown up now," Sarah said planting her hands on hips.

"We noticed," the hat replied, eyeing her appreciatively. Sarah scowled but said nothing.

"So, why are you here?" asked the Wiseman.

"Didn't get enough of this place the first time around?" the hat quipped.

"I've had more than my fill, thank you very much," Sarah retorted, "But a friend of mine got wished away and now I'm trying help get her back."

"We need to get to the castle," Harry added.

The Wiseman raised a brow, "Ah, you want to get to the center of the Labyrinth?"

The hat shook his head, "All these years and still the same level of brain power. None!" he cackled.

The Wiseman glared up at his hat, "Will you be quiet!" he barked.

Ron shrugged, "I thought it was pretty funny," he offered.

The hat looked at the two boys suspiciously, as though just noticing their presence, "And who are these two bozos?" he asked Sarah.

Sarah quickly glanced over at the boys, "They're my friends," she replied.

"Right," the hat drawled, "and if I recall: the last time you introduced someone as your 'friend' to us they ended up betraying you. Can we expect a repeat performance this time around?"

"You knew about that?" Sarah asked incredulously.

"Ev'rybody knows," the hat informed her, "Remember? You won. That means your story is recorded in the books!"

"The books?" Sarah turned to Hoggle, "Hoggle, do you know anything about this?"

"Who me? No Sarah, in all my years I've never seen anyone get through the Labyrinth. 'Til you that is."

"Only members of the King's court know about the Champion's Log young lady," the Wiseman said, "And a new one is started every time a new King is crowned. You are the first during our current ruler's reign to ever defeat the Labyrinth. Hence, your journey was recorded in the Log."

"Okay, good to know. Now we really need to get to the castle," Sarah informed them.

"Very well. Just remember, the way forward is sometimes the way back," the Wiseman said, echoing his sentiments from years ago.

"I'm aware that sometimes we don't seem to be getting anywhere," Sarah replied, "However, right now we really aren't getting anywhere and that's a big issue."

The hat scoffed, "I can't believe you're wasting time listening to this crap again!"

"In case you didn't notice, so are you."

"True, but I have no legs and therefore, no choice," the hat pointed out, "You have legs, so I'd recommend using them!"

"Sure thing, but just so we're clear: I didn't ask for any advice, so don't expect a contribution in your little box," Sarah replied as she turned to the boys, "Come on, let's go."

Hermione hadn't known if she should wait for Jareth to come finish their game, or if she should return to the throne room, or what. So, she had perused through the books once more, hoping to find something that could keep her distracted for the next indeterminable length of time.

Along the end of one of the main bookshelves on the second floor was a book on goblin migration and the kingdom's census records. Interesting, maybe this could answer her questions about the goblins at Gringotts. As Hermione reached for the book she noticed another, smaller book right next to it. The odd thing about this one was that there was no title, nor author, nor even any decoration for it, unlike all the others in the library.

"One of these things is not like the others," Hermione murmured, reaching for the smaller unmarked book. At the spine she felt the bottom of the book catch on something and pull forward, but not off the shelf. There was a click, and the entire bookcase swung open to reveal yet another hidden room.

"He must have a penchant for these things," Hermione muttered while shaking her head.

Previous experience said not to trespass, but Hermione uncharacteristically disregarded it anyways: her niggling curiosity and thirst for knowledge getting the better of her. The room in actuality was no mere hidden room. Instead it appeared to be a private study, obviously Jareth's private study. It almost looked like a CEO's office in a modern day business building, with simplistic yet lavish designs and decorations scattered throughout. The walls were lined with dark paneled wood, one entire wall comprised of glass panes. The furniture was undeniably masculine: dark leather wing-backed chairs set before a huge mahogany desk, a claret colored rug lined the space between them, creating an imposing contrast with the Black Birch flooring.

Upon the desk lay a quill and inkwell, and small, unmarked, leather-bound book. Hermione cautiously made her way to it, ears on guard for any footsteps to alert an end to her solitude. With not a sound other than the frantic beating of her own heart thrumming in her ears, Hermione safely made it behind the desk, facing the book. Of its own volition, her hand reached for the cover of the book and opened it.

"A journal?" she whispered aloud as she examined the writing on the first page. It detailed a coronation event of such a grandiose scale, Hermione felt exhausted merely reading the account.

'Finally, I have become King. It is not a very desirable kingship, but it is a kingship nonetheless. Of all the places to be chosen for: why the Goblin Kingdom? Alack, it seems as though it was the only kingdom in need of a king. Very well, if it is my lot in life to be the Goblin King, the Goblin King I shall be. At the very least, the celebration following my coronation was worthwhile. It appears that if there s one thing Goblins do very well, it is celebrating: very loudly and drunkenly, but still with more sincerity than I have ever seen at any other coronation affair. I suppose being the Goblin King won't be all bad, I do have some hope left.'

On the next page, Hermione found an entry that appeared to be some time later, as they were not dated.

'It has taken longer than I expected it to, but today I received my first summons. I took to the skies in my owl form and flew through the void: it was exhilarating. I have never before felt so energized traveling between the worlds. Normally, it is very tiring for a Fae to travel between the worlds. Even the most experienced lose a little of their energy and must rest a moment before continuing on. I felt the energy of both worlds all around me, and a tugging at my very core: pulling me to the origin of the summons…'

The journal entry went on to describe the circumstances surrounding the child being wished away. The babe had been born healthy, but the young mother was on her deathbed, something her husband couldn't tolerate. So he had called on the Goblins and their King, offering the child in exchange for the return of his wife from Death's Door. As such Jareth had taken the baby back to the castle and days later the child had a new home in to Fae nobles who had been trying for centuries to conceive to no avail.

Much of the other entries were the same. A child was wished away in order to make an exchange for someone's life. Usually it was a woman was the subject of exchange, whether saving her from death or saving her from ruin at the hands of society thanks to her own reckless behavior. More than thirty pages in, however, the entries started to change.

'Today was an extremely unusual day. Summons come and go; and they always turn out the same. However, today when I went to see what price of exchange the summoner wanted, they refused my offer. The child claimed to regret his actions, but I saw no remorse on his face. More than likely his refusal was due to his own sense of self-preservation, not wishing to be rebuked by his sire and such. I explained to him that if he wished to retrieve the child, he would have to solve the Labyrinth. He rashly agreed and I sent him on his way. We are now counting down the hours until this child becomes of denizen of the Underground.

'The thirteenth hour is nearly up. The babe is calm and sleeping without a care in the world. The challenger is nearly through, but today I have discovered the true power of the Goblin King. Some members of the court have always spoken of this kingship and, upon my coronation: me, in hurried whispers in secluded rooms far from potential prying ears. They call me Dream Weaver, and I now realize what they were speaking of. My crystals are more than mere baubles for entertainment or even bargaining tools. They are weapons all their own. As King, when I offer a mortal their dreams, contained within my crystals, I truly offer them their dreams. But that is not all my crystals can do. I can take their desires and weave them into dreams, much like a spider weaves its web. It is a sweet trap, but a trap all the same. Once lost in a world of their own making, a world of every desire they hold in their heart, there is no escape. I have the little boy n'

A splotch of ink on the page cut off the word, as though Jareth had carelessly dropped the quill for some reason. The explanation continued below.

'The child was injured! Even lost within his dream, he continued on in his journey. Somehow he ventured into the Junk City where he slipped off an embankment, and was unable to continue, though Danu knows he valiantly attempted to. I cannot abide by kicking an injured child. I know that had he not injured himself he would have reached my castle. Instead, I brought him to the healer for his injury. Along the way he lamented the fact that he had lost, both the challenge and his brother because of his own stupidity. I saw in his eyes that he now truly regretted his actions. So I bent the rules, I allowed both children to return home. It was quite an amusing diversion from rather mundane, inane goblins that care for nothing more than poultry and drunken revelry. I can only hope that more challengers are like this young lad. But, never again can I risk using the runners' dreams against them, not as powerfully as I did today.'

Ironically enough, Jareth never had to worry about using a runner's dreams against them. As Hermione read of more and more challengers failing due to their own inability to grow, she found herself sympathizing with the Goblin King. He seemed to grow more disheartened that none of the challengers really wanted to succeed and right their wrongs. Most didn't make it past the first challenge, and the few that did always took the path that led to certain death upon coming to the ruse guards. Jareth did not abide by senseless slaughter and instead rescued them, returning them to the mortal world and erasing all memories of a child wished away.

Towards the last fourth of the journal, Hermione noticed the writing style change again. Whereas throughout the middle Jareth seemed to grow bored with the subjects of his writings: often his inane subjects and what passed for conflict within the kingdom, a few mentions of balls and weddings and the like, and the constant irritation from scheming parents (or even the young women themselves) pushing marriageable offspring in his direction. These later pages, on the other hand, reflected both confusion and hope.

'As of late I find myself being drawn to the human world. There is a tugging at m very soul, not unlike a summons, but far, far more powerful. The place where I am often drawn to is this secluded little park in what I believe to be the state of New York. I confess my knowledge of the geography of the Mortal World is not quite what it used to be. When I am in this little park, the longing dissipates, but I can only return to my kingdom for a few days before it starts up again.'

'I have recently found out that the mortals are in their nineteen hundred and seventieth year. That means I have been King for a very long time. Six hundred mortal years have already passed by. To me it seems no longer than a day. But in truth, almost a thousand years have passed in my kingdom, yet I am still considered young. Well, I suppose thirteen hundred mortal years is rather young for a Fae like myself, yet I still have a whole life ahead of me.'

Hermione stifled a gasp. The Goblin King was thirteen hundred years old? That meant that, she did the calculations in her head, he had been born in the six hundreds and crowned during the thirteen hundreds. Jareth was nearly two thousand years old? This was giving her a headache, best to get back to reading:

'The Longing has been getting stronger, pulling me to the park on a near constant basis. I do not understand why. Whenever I come, all I see is a couple pushing their child in a stroller along the edge of the pond. I always return to my kingdom confused, but no medical journal has provided me with the answer I seek.'

Hermione stopped for a moment: Sarah was about nine years and ten months older than she was, often referring to her birthday as Beltane. So, Hermione was sixteen now, and she'd recently sent a birthday letter to Sarah: she was now twenty-five. That meant Sarah had been born in the year nineteen seventy, the same year the Goblin King's 'Longing' had started. Hermione's mind was racing now, making connections left, right, and center. But just to be safe she flipped to another page and searched for any mention…

'It is now the mortal year nineteen seventy-six. More accurately, it is Beltane of this year. No mortal Aboveground celebrates this ancient holiday anymore. To be frank, I should have been at Revenward, the Elf King's Beltane festival this day. But the Longing has become even worse as of late. In weeks prior, I have ignored it and it went away, but today it would not let me be. So I traveled once again to that little park. Oftentimes when I go there I find it easier to stay an owl and perch on an obelisk I found there.

'Today in the park I found a small child, dressed head-to-toe in a spring green dress, looking for all the world like a Fae child, laughing and running around. Off to the side I saw a dark haired woman and a small sheepdog watching her. The woman called, asking if the young girl was sure she'd rather be playing in the park instead of having a birthday party with all her friends this day. The little girl said all her friends were there. Then she rushed over to the woman, her mother I assume, and begged her for a story. I saw the woman pull out a little red book and begin to read. I could scarcely believe my ears! It was a story about my kingdom! The details were off: the hero was a heroine who defeated the Goblin King with her own strength, but the little girl seemed enraptured all the same. As I watched I felt the Longing squeeze tight about my chest before loosening and dispelling all together.'

Hermione thought the account detailed Sarah's sixth birthday, as the child's personality and mannerisms fit that of the Sarah she knew. But to be sure,

'The little girl is growing. Ever since that fateful Beltane I have felt compelled to keep an eye on her. Three mortal years have passed since then, and the young girl, Sarah I believe I've heard her been called, has changed in almost every way imaginable. The dark-haired woman I saw before no longer accompanies her to the park. Instead, the sheepdog is her sole companion. No other child ever joins her here, and I have come to think no one would dare. Every day at the same time she arrives with the beast and begins to playact, reciting lines from that little red book. Occasionally, she brings other stories she can be the heroine in, but the one of my kingdom is by far her favorite. I always feel my chest burst with pride at that knowledge. Sarah has noticed me on occasion, and acknowledges me as the only other to be privy to her performances. Sometimes, though, she gets melancholy. Such a sad look in her eyes, my chest constricts painfully. But I cannot interfere unless she says her right words.'

The entries about Sarah continued, detailing how unhappy she seemed when she came to the park for brief respites as an adolescent, only to be called away far too quickly. One account told how Jareth had followed her home once and started keeping an eye on her there as well. He noted with anger how the stepmother, in his assumption, bossed and bullied his Sarah: though he did admit it was only after chivalry and gentle cajoling had borne no fruit. It also noted how jealous Sarah had been when at the age of fourteen, Sarah had been gifted with a baby brother. The jealousy turned to bitterness when the name Sarah became synonymous with child-watcher while the parents went out and socialized at the end of every week.

Finally, Jareth's journal told of Sarah's journey through his Labyrinth, through his kingdom, and surprisingly: through his heart. How he was so surprised and even frightened by her quick progression past every obstacle he broke his one personal rule. He had ordered a dwarf called Hoggle to give Sarah an enchanted peach. He had woven a dream unlike any other. It had sucked not only Sarah in but Jareth as well. It was there he realized he had come to care for her. It was there he had realized what Hermione had realized the moment she had read the description of Sarah's fifth birthday: Sarah was his soul mate. And, just like when she had read that little red book that had started all this; she felt bittersweet at Sarah's victory over the Labyrinth, and Jareth's defeat of both his own game, and the game of love.

'I watched, this night, as Sarah and several other members of my kingdom reveled in my defeat: while I was confined to watch from afar. After a moment or two I returned here and constructed my special mirror. Thanks to her words I can no longer go to her as anything but an owl, or conjure her visage in my crystals. So I created a mirror that would let me see anything I desired. All it ever will show me is Sarah. I may not have power over her, but I am comforted by the knowledge that she will never truly realize one truth: that she has power over me. All Sarah will ever see me as is the villain, and nothing will ever change that…'

That had been the last page of the journal, and Hermione closed it with a soft sigh.

"Snooping around in my private affairs again?" Hermione felt her blood turn to ice as Jareth's voice washed over her from behind, "I dare say I have half a mind to keep you in the dungeon for the rest of the game."

Slowly Hermione turned around, willing the look of pity off her face, "You could, but what would it accomplish?"

"Keep you from airing my dirty laundry to the entire kingdom perhaps?" Jareth teasingly replied.

"Seriously, what would it do for you your Majesty? It won't bring her back."

"You say that as if it's some big secret someone should have told me by now," Jareth said, pulling a crystal from the air and dancing it on his fingers.

"But-"

"I'm well aware that Sarah doesn't care about anything I do, I've had plenty of time to realize that. All Sarah will ever see me as is the villain of some childhood story."

"If you feel so strongly about her, why not clear the air?"

"You read my journal, I can't. She said her right words and now I do not have the power to go to her. Not unless she calls me. Or she returns here, and she has no reason to do so."

"Is that why you have that room?" Hermione pressed, "Hidden behind that tapestry?"

"You aren't going to let that go are you?"

"Not until you tell me,"

"Very well, yes: that is why I have that room," Jareth said petulantly, like a small child who was angrily embarrassed to be caught liking something that didn't fit in with his normal image, "So I can still check in on her every now and again. Unlike those traitor friends of hers, I cannot go where I am not invited, so at the very least I have the consolation of looking upon her."

"And you hide it behind a bewitched door and a tapestry because?"

"As I'm sure you already figured out, you can use that mirror as a means of communicating with the mortal world. In some cases, you may use it to travel between worlds if you have the ability to. I keep that room secreted because Goblins have the ability to travel between worlds, and i did not want Sarah's life disrupted because I was careless enough to leave those troublemakers open access to the mortal world."

"So you say that you use that room because you can't see Sarah in the mortal world, correct?"

"Yes, and though I could possibly see her in my domain she has no reason to return."

Hermione gave a wry smile, "You call me no reason?"

Jareth frowned at her, "What do you mean by that?"

"Your majesty, how do you think I came to be in this situation?"

"That red-headed boy wished you away," Jareth replied.

"Which he couldn't have done without the right words in the book. Where do you think I got it from?"

"Sarah gave you that book?"

"I wouldn't say gave. It was more of an indefinite loan," Hermione replied, "But my point is, if Sarah gave me the book: don't you think she'd come for me if she knew I was in danger?"

"She does have a bleeding heart," Jareth remarked, "But you have runners for your sake. Even if I could get a message across to her I cannot allow her to knowingly join the run."

"I see," Hermione thought a moment, "And I know of no way to contact her here. Well then," she shored herself up, "let's finish our own game, yes?"

Jareth nodded and banished the crystal, "Agreed,"

"So," Sarah said upon leading the boys to the spot where she had first met Ludo, "which way should we go?"

"Which way?" Ron repeated incredulously, "Are you absolutely barmy? There's nothing here but a dead end!"

Sarah turned her back to the wall, "Give it a minute or so."

The boys watched as nothing happened.

"Well?" Ron asked mockingly, "Where's the fork in the road?"

Sarah rolled her eyes, "It's not going to change if you watch it," she retorted, "Turn your backs to it and wait a bit."

The boys and Hoggle did as she bade, and when she turned around they followed suit.

"Wow!" Harry exclaimed.

"These weren't there a minute ago!" Ron said in bewilderment.

"Things are not always what they seem in this place," Sarah said as she turned to the two doors that she knew would be waiting for them, "Hello again boys."

"What?" hollered the doorknocker with the ring in his ears. The doorknocker with the ring in his mouth gave out a garbled semblance of greeting.

Sarah turned to Harry and Ron again, "This is your journey: so which way should we go?"

"What's behind the doors?" Ron asked.

"How do we get through?" Harry asked, noticing the doors had no knobs.

"You just knock, the door will open," Sarah explained, "That one," she pointed to the knocker with the ring in his mouth, "leads to the Firey Forest."

"That the one you went through when you were here?" Harry glanced over at Sarah, who nodded.

"Well then that settles it," Ron declared, going over to the deaf knocker. He clutched at the brass ring and rapped it against the door three times. The door swung open inward and Ron marched past.

Harry looked at Sarah and shrugged, "I guess we're going that way then," he said as he followed after.

Sarah and Hoggle shared a glance and hurried along as well.

Unlike the other door, this one opened up into a sunny path, lined with tall oaks and flowers of all kinds. The others soon caught up with the redhead, and the group soon congregated, taking up the entire way. But as the path grew narrower, they fell into single file: Sarah, Hoggle, and Harry, with Ron bringing up the rear. Ron mostly watched his feet as he walked, upset that he was being dragged through this. Yeah, he had wished Hermione away, but this was so difficult!

While Ron continued his hateful musings and complaints, he didn't notice himself slipping further and further behind. Soon, he was practically alone on the path. It was then he heard the string of a violin, or something quite similar.

That of what could have been bells shortly joined the sound of the violin. And after that, an ethereal voice sounded through the trees. Ron stopped, looking up and around in an attempt to get his bearings and locate the rest of the group. The voice continued whispering, echoing and seeming everywhere at once. The music continued its steady pace, and Ron closed his eyes to listen to it. When he opened them once more his eyes were half-lidded and glassy, his mouth open in a barely there smile. Spellbound, Ron began to veer off the path, searching for the source.

Meanwhile Harry, Sarah, and Hoggle had come to a fork in the road.

"Which way should we take?" Harry asked.

"It's your challenge, which way do you want to go?" Sarah asked in reply.

"It's not my challenge, it's Ron's," harry said, turning to ask his friend's opinion. Ron was nowhere to be found.

"Ron? Ron!" Harry called, "Where are you mate?"

"Maybe we should backtrack and try to find whether or not he veered off the path," Sarah suggested.

"Right," Hoggle agreed, "This part of the Labyrinth ain't well-traveled. It'll be easy to spot if he went off the path."

They wandered back just in time to see Ron disappear through the trees, a path of his own made through the underbrush.

"Ron!" Harry called out to his friend.

"After him!" Sarah ordered, bolting after the ginger. Harry and Hoggle started sprinting as well.

They came upon a clearing with a lagoon in it. Along the back wall, made entirely of flat stones, were ledges upon which sat beautiful women: with skin the same clear blue as the water, hair the color of sapphires, and tails instead of legs. Some played instruments, some harmonized, and another sung: her wordless voice entrancing. Harry, Sarah, and Hoggle hid behind tree trunks close to the clearing's entrance. Ron was slowly walking towards the edge of the water, with no apparent intention of stopping once he got there.

"Now what do we do?" Sarah bit the top of her thumb in thought.

"Isn't that music heavenly?" Harry said dreamily.

"Prettiest I ever heard in me life," Hoggle replied just as distractedly.

"I want to hear it up close," Harry remarked, attempting to approach the water. Sarah reached out and grabbed his arm, tugging him back against the trunk with a hard thud. The impact seemed to knock him out of his stupor.

"Sarah?" Harry rubbed at his head, "What happened?"

"You wanted to hear the music, I think those are sirens."

The trio glanced over at the lagoon; Ron was walking in, heading towards the beautiful women. He didn't appear bothered by the fact that his clothing was getting drenched. Some of the sirens left their ledges and swam to him, petting and caressing him while he smiled stupidly.

"Sirens?" Harry repeated dumbly, "How are we gonna rescue Ron from them?"

Sarah turned to Hoggle, "Hoggle, do you have anything you and Harry could use to block your ears?"

"I think I have bit of earth clay here on me belt," Hoggle replied, searching at the baubles on his sash, "Ah, here it is!" he exclaimed, pulling free a jar of something the color of sand.

"Good, here's the plan. We're all going to charge into the water and pull Ron free, fighting any sirens that get in our way."

"What about you?" Harry asked, "Won't you need clay in your ears as well?"

Sarah shook her head, "Those are female sirens; their song won't work on me. Now, put the clay in your ears, and when I give the signal, run towards Ron."

The two men did as Sarah ordered them to and stuffed clay in their ears. Sarah held up three fingers and slowly counted down to one. Once she did, she pointed to the lagoon and bolted. Harry and Hoggle followed and they rushed into the water, ignoring its icy sting and grabbed ahold of the ginger. The formerly benign sirens instantly changed: their eyes glowed with hatred and they opened their mouths wide to hiss, revealing two rows of jagged teeth. They gripped onto Ron, who started to struggle out of his companions' grasp and head deeper into the water. After much effort, they managed to drag him out and away, back onto the main path.

Rife with exhaustion the three rescuers dropped Ron on the ground before collapsing themselves. Ron gave a few sputtering coughs before sitting up and looking around in confusion.

"Blimey! Why are you three all wet?" he then seemed to become aware of his own state of dampness, "Why am I all wet? And why are my ears ringing?"

"Because mate," Harry replied, "You got hypnotized by sirens and were almost killed. It took a great deal of effort to get you out of there."

"Well thanks," Ron said with gratitude, "But where do we go from here?"

Both boys looked to Sarah for guidance.

Sarah shrugged, "I know about as much about this path as you guys. At this point on the other I had gone through the Firey Forest and Hoggle had rescued me from the Fireys who were trying to take off my head. At that point we were sent hurtling towards the Bog of Eternal stench, where we met Sir Didymus," Sarah heaved a sigh, "I wish we were with Sir Didymus right now, and Ludo."

At those words, a great trapdoor opened beneath the feat of the traveling party. There was a collective cry before silence as the door returned to solid ground once more. They were sent sliding down a network of aqueducts. Finally, they were deposited on the shore of the Bog.

"Ugh!" Ron gagged as he sat up and smelled the air around him.

Harry covered his mouth to keep from vomiting, "It smells like, like-"

"It doesn't matter what it smells like. It's the Bog of Eternal Stench!" Hoggle grumbled as he stood up and dusted himself off, "Well, we're here now, let's go see Didymus."

"Yeah," Sarah agreed, "But watch your step alright?"

"You step in this stuff and you'll stink forever," Hoggle added.

They made their way to a large gap in the bog, where the remnants of a bridge arched into the air.

"Didiymus?" Sarah called out, "Are you here?"

"My Lady?" they heard a wiry old voice reply. From a stone near the bridge with a door on it, a little old fox terrier, dressed in medieval clothing with a patch over his left eye, came rushing out to greet them, "My Lady!" he cried jubilantly, "Thou hast made it here this day! Aiding young squires I see?" he raised the brow above his one good eye at the two boys.

"More or less," Sarah replied.

"What's this talk of squires and aid?" Ron asked, "All she's been doing is showing us the way."

"That's what he meant Ron," Harry told him, "Sir Didymus appears to be a Knight of Old, that's the way he talks."

"Knight of Old? What's that?"

Harry sighed, "Right, I forgot for a moment. A Knight of Old is a reference to someone who lives by the code of chivalry from the medieval ages in the Muggle world. He is honor bound to this code and must uphold its values or live in disgrace for the rest of his days, providing he didn't break one of the more sacred rules."

"Ah yes, the Code which I swore my life to when I was but a young squire," Didymus chimed in wistfully.

Sarah looked around, "Didymus, where's Ludo?"

"Sir Ludo hast wandered off into the Dark Forest my lady, claiming a bad smell."

"He had the right idea!" Hoggle quipped nasally, hand still over his nose.

"You got that right," Ron agreed, "How do we get out of here?"

"We need to cross over the bridge," Sarah pointed out a bridge made of large stones rising out of the water of the bog.

The boys went to cross but Didymus jumped in front of them.

"Stop!" he cried, "Stop I say!"

"Why?" Harry asked.

"My sacred oath, which I have sworn to uphold with my life's blood," Didymus explained.

"What does that have to do with us crossing this bridge?" Ron asked.

"Without my permission, no one may cross!" Didymus stated.

From behind they heard Sarah chuckle, "Still on that are we?" she asked bemusedly, "Alright Sir Didymus: may we have your permission to cross your bridge?"

"But of course my Lady, anything for thee," Didymus stepped to the side, allowing them to cross.

"Thanks," Sarah said as she stepped onto the stones.

The boys followed suit, repressing stupid snickers at the sounds the stones made when they stepped on them. When the group reached the other side Sarah turned around.

"Are you coming?" she called to the knight.

"Of course my Lady!" Didymus called as he turned to an alcove by his home, "Ambrosius! Come here!" a sheepdog with a saddle and riding blanket scurried forth. Didymus mounted the dog and it ventured forth over the bridge.

"Great, now that we're all here, let's go get Ludo," Sarah said as she charged forward.

In the end, Jareth had won. He had captured her queen and her king was too far away to reach the pawn in time. He reclaimed his rook, then captured her one remaining pawn and faster than she could blink, had claimed checkmate.

Hermione pushed back her chair with a huff, "I never was very fond of chess anyways."

"No one is fond of something they know they'll be bested at my dear," Jareth replied as he idly conjured a crystal.

"Does the same go for your Labyrinth?" Hermione quipped.

Jareth turned sharp eyes on her, "Dare I ask for clarification?"

"Are you still fond of your Labyrinth, even knowing you'll be beaten again?"

"Careful my dear, now you're courting fire," he warned.

"I know my friends, and one in particular has always beaten the odds," Hermione stated confidently, "There's no way they can lose."

"Ah yes, the little bespectacled boy. The way he goes on you'd think he was repenting for his own careless wish," Jareth said with a smirk.

"Hardly, he simply has a hero complex," Hermione replied.

"A hero's complex? Do tell," Jareth vanished the crystal and sat forwards in his chair: elbows on the table and fingers steepled into a chin rest.

"He doesn't like to watch others suffer, unlike your grace," Hermione retorted, crossing her arms in defense of her friend, "He does whatever he can to make sure those he cares about don't get hurt, he's noble like that."

"You seem to be quite fond of extoling his many virtues, yet I notice you say nothing of his red-headed friend," Jareth's smirk grew even wider, "It seems to me you carry a torch for the boy."

"Who Harry?" Hermione gave a scoff of nervous disbelief, "Why I nev-" her cheeks grew flushed and her gaze darted around the room, "Eh, that is to say: I may have succumbed to a few incredibly girlish fantasies in my youth. But I've long since grown out of them!" she said vehemently.

Jareth let out a chuckle, "Methinks the lady doth protest too much," he replied, "And you do realize that I have hard time believing you've left any fantasies behind seeing as you're the victim of being wished away due to your own carelessness."

"I was not careless!" Hermione said pointedly, "He ripped the book out of my hands."

"A book you've kept with you since childhood," Jareth stated with a raised brow. Hermione could find no response to that that didn't incriminate her further.

Sensing his victory for the round Jareth reclined in his seat and conjured back the crystal. As he danced the orb over his fingers he continued, "Returning to the matter at hand: you claim to hold no romantic intentions towards your friend, Harry was it?" at her nod he pressed on, "Then prove it."

"Prove it?" Hermione repeated dumbly.

"Tell me, has any other man managed to capture your attention in such a way?"

"As a matter of fact, there is," Hermione replied smugly.

"Oh really?" Jareth asked mockingly, "Whom?"

Hermione hesitated, choosing to draw shapeless patterns on the tabletop. Jareth watched her actions from the corner of his eye and came to what was, in his mind, a ludicrous conclusion.

"Don't tell me," he said, watching her eyes fly up to meet him and her flush deepen, "You fancy the Wesley boy?" he asked on a laugh.

"I-" Hermione sputtered in embarrassment and fury, "I-"

The crystal vanished as Jareth clutched at his sides, whole body shaking with mirth, "This is too rich, even for me," he said through bouts of laughter.

"What's so funny about my possible fancy for him?" Hermione demanded, fists shaking at her sides.

"The Wesley boy!" was all Jareth could reply through his chuckles.

"Weasley!" Hermione corrected as she finally watched the Goblin King calm down.

"What qualities could that boy possibly possess that would endear him to you?" Jareth asked in a snidely curious way.

"Ron has plenty of good qualities," Hermione argued, "He's got… He's got…" sure, Ron had plenty of good qualities, none of which simply felt like coming to mind at the moment.

Jareth gave a snicker brimming with superiority, "Oh yes child, do tell me what he has, provided you can come up with anything."

Finally Hermione thought of something to base her argument on, "He's got potential," the words sounded weak even to her own ears, but once she had one, a few others came forth, "He's passionate, and loyal, and-"

"And stubborn, and selfish, extremely jealous, easily riled, and incredibly gullible," Jareth interrupted, "Believe me, I've noticed a great deal about his personality."

"You haven't known him as long as I have. He can be incredibly sweet, and thoughtful."

"May I ask that you cease for now? The room is becoming rose colored," Jareth stood from his seat and strode out the door. Hermione rolled her eyes as she watched his retreating figure.

They had trekked through the forest and into the Junk City, where they came upon Ludo. Harry and Ron had been understandably wary at first, upon seeing Ludo's somewhat ferocious appearance, but the beast had quickly warmed up to them, and the boys had warmed up to him in return. They continued their passage through the mountains of junk, some actual mountains and others the piles on the backs of hoarding goblins. They had just made their way through the middle of the city when they heard a loud rumble.

Sarah turned around and looked at the group of males behind her, "What was that?"

Ron smiled and scratched the back of his head sheepishly, "Um, my stomach. I'm a mite hungry."

"Well, we're almost to the castle, once we have Hermione back you can go home and eat," Sarah told him resolutely. She turned around and marched forward.

Ron grumbled under his breath and lagged behind. Harry went back to console him.

"Come on mate, we're almost there. Nothing less than twenty minutes at most."

"Twenty minutes!" Ron all but groaned, "I can't wait that long! I'm hungry now mate!"

"Ron, come on or we'll lose sight of the others," Harry cajoled him.

"Yoo-hoo!" they heard a voice call from behind one of the junk piles. The boys turned to see a small raggedy goblin waving towards them quite amicably.

"Are you talking to us?" Ron questioned.

"Sures am!" the goblin replied, "I heard yous was hungry and I thought I'd shows ya the way to some food," he hiked a thumb over his shoulder, "T's just round this corner. Come on!" he started off.

Harry turned to Ron, "Do you think we should go with him?"

"I am, I'm hungry," Ron stated as he followed the little goblin. Harry heaved a sigh and raced after his friend.

Sarah and her friends stopped a few feet from where Harry and Ron had broken off from the group, "Alright, now which way boys?" when she got now answer she asked again, "Boys?" with still no response Sarah turned around to find them missing two crucial member of their traveling party.

"Boys gone," Ludo purred with melancholy.

"Indeed Brother Ludo," Sir Didymus agreed, "Where could they have gone though?"

Sarah mentally backtracked, trying to recall is she'd seen any of the junk piles they'd passed on her last trip through the Labyrinth. There was only one that stuck out, and her heart sunk as she realized what it could have meant.

"Guys," she started slowly, "does anyone know what happened to that peach I ate the last time I was here?"

Hoggle scratched his chin in thought, "Now, don't come by much this way anymore, but the last I heard was it'd grown into a tree, real popular with the goblins 'at live around here."

Sarah ran a hand through her hair in concern, "Oh no," she pushed through the unintentional wall her friends had formed, "Come on! We need to find them!"

They backtracked to when they had last seen Harry and Ron, and followed the sounds of goblin laughter to a small junkyard clearing, Sarah running farther ahead as the worry compounded in her mind.

"Harry! Ron! Don't eat that fruit!" Sarah cried out as she ran inside. Too late, she realized with a sinking heart, as she took in the sight of both boys sprawled out on the ground, a peach with a single bite taken out of it in both of their hands.

Titters from the peach tree itself caught her attention.

"It's the girl!" one cried happily, swinging from a bough.

"Nah, girl a Lady now," replied another from inside a knothole.

"What girl?" asked a third from his spot down at the base of the tree.

The one on the bough plucked a fruit before letting go and scampering over to Sarah, clambering up until he sat on her shoulder, "Hi!" he chimed brightly, "Lady want some fruit?" he asked as he waved the peach in her face.

"No, I don't want some fruit. I want you to wake up my friends!" Sarah replied irately.

The goblin seemed confused, "Lady don't want no fruit? But everyone loves fruit! Lady has a taste first, okay?" he pushed the peach into her hands.

"I told you I don't the fruit!" Sarah protested vehemently.

"Lady need to stop. Too much screechy screech," the goblin shook his head before looking at the fruit in his hand and giving it a squeeze, "Lady need calm down, make you nice and loosey. Lady has a taste!" he raised the fruit and brought it down in an arc to Sarah's face.

Sarah, not expecting it, opened her mouth to protest again. The fruit was pushed into her mouth, the goblin trying to force it down her throat. She shook him off and spit out the peach, but to no avail. When the peach had been shoved into her mouth, Sarah's teeth had pierced its delicate flesh. The juice had seeped out into her mouth, and though she hadn't swallowed, the nectar had touched her tongue, and the hallucinogenic properties had gone into effect.

Sarah stumbled around the clearing, unsteady on her feet and groaning as she ran her hands through her hair, pulling at them in the hopes that it would help retain her lucidity. She stumbled backwards into a further recess of the clearing and fell to her back.

"Everything's dancing," she murmured as her eyes rapidly moved back and forth in their sockets, "Everything's dancing," she repeated. Suddenly her lids felt as though they each weighed a ton. Sarah struggled to keep them open, but at last they fell shut, and the world around her fell.

When she woke, she saw nothing but black. Ebony spread out into oblivion. All around her, music started to echo. Some tinkling, metallic instrument, bells, voices. A man's voices whispered sweet nothings that also seemed ethereal and somewhat frightening. The sounds of a guitar joined the mix, followed by a female's voice. This voice Sarah couldn't understand either, but it didn't matter. The music was both spell binding and in some way ominous. Through it though, she heard the steady clicking of low-heeled boots against stone flooring. Sarah turned and found only one other thing in the darkness.

"You," she hissed venomously as she took in the Fae before her.

"Ah, as antagonistic as always I see," he said striding towards her evenly.

"What are you doing here?" Sarah bit out as she stared him down.

"Could you put anymore ice in your tone?" he asked sarcastically, "Really now Sarah, I thought we had moved past all that, especially since you've grown up enough to realize that I am not nearly so villainous as you once painted me to be."

"Cut the crap, Goblin King," Sarah retorted harshly, "Why are you here?"

"Ever so defiant, just as I remember you," Jareth gave a mirthless smile, "But to answer your question: you called, I came. Simple, really."

"I called?" Sarah scoffed, "This is a dream, if I wouldn't call for you when I was awake, I sure as hell wouldn't call for you in a dream. You obviously decided to invite yourself in."

"That does sound like something I would do, doesn't it?" Jareth admitted.

"Yes, yes it does. Now that we've established that, get out so I can wake up."

"I wasn't finished yet love," Jareth replied, "Though that does sound like something I would do: in your case it is not something I am able to do."

Sarah was taken aback by the news, "What do you mean by that?"

"As you stated in that pretty little monologue of yours, I have no power over you. As such, I cannot go where I am not invited, your dreams included."

"N-no, you're lying," Sarah scrambled for an excuse.

Jareth's countenance grew dark, "I will say this only once, so pay attention. Fae never lie, due to a magical contract created eons before the idea of the mortal world was even conceived and signed in blood by the founding members of our race. We may not tell the whole truth, but every word that comes out of a Fae's mouth is some form of the truth."

"Regardless, I want you out of here."

"How does it feel to want?" Jareth asked smugly.

Sarah bristled, "You said it yourself, you have no power over me: you have no power over my dream. So if I want you out you should be out!"

Jareth smirked and gave a low chuckle, "That is where you would be wrong Sarah-mine."

"Wh-what?"

"True, I may not have power over you, but I most certainly have power here," he started advancing on her.

Sarah began instinctively backing away, "But, how?"

"Sarah, you really have no clue who I am, do you?"

"Of course I do, you're the Goblin King."

"I'm more than a mere King, Sarah. As the Keeper, the Weaver, and Granter of Dreams I have more power here than your little mortal mind could ever imagine," at this point Sarah felt the cold bite of stone against her back, but when she turned to look she only saw blackness. Jareth extended his arms and boxed her in, "However, the way I use this power, if I so choose, is entirely up to me."

Sarah cast frightened, defiant eyes at Jareth, "Is that supposed to be a threat? You don't scare me," she bluffed.

Jareth tilted his head to the side, a corner of his mouth quirking as he did so, "Oh really? You'd be the first."

"The first? Somehow I don't believe that."

"As I said before, I cannot lie. And in my day I swept the very bravest men, mortal and magical alike, who dared to challenge me off their feet."

"How?" Sarah quipped, "Did you dance around in those ridiculously tight pants of yours? I'm sure that scares all other men off," she retorted.

Jareth let out a snicker, "No, but that does intimidate some young bucks even when I'm not trying to be," he leaned in, bringing his face close to hers, "But there is one more facet to my throne than you think. I am King over dreams, all dreams."

"So? I get it, you're King of Dreams. What does that have to do with-" Sarah cut off her snarking as realization sunk in. Jareth was King of all dreams, even, "Nightmares? You're the king of Nightmares too?"

"Yes, I am," there was no flourish or theatrics in his reply. Just a simple affirmation of the truth.

Sarah began to struggle in a valiant attempt to free herself: she tried willing the invisible wall behind her away, but it stayed just as solid behind her.

"Let me go! I want to wake up from this catastrophe!" Sarah screamed.

Jareth drew back slightly, "Sarah, I told you my power is mine to use as I see fit. But right now the only thing I'm doing is standing here talking with you. You are doing this to yourself."

"No, no I'm not!" Sarah said petulantly.

"Sarah, I am here because you called me. I can't leave because you won't allow me. What is it you want?"

"I, I don't know," Sarah admitted, a flush rising in her cheeks and quickly spreading down her body.

While they had been arguing back and forth it had been easy to ignore how nothing about him had changed. In the few times over the years she let herself think about her altercations with the Goblin King during her run, she had believed to delude herself with how handsome she recalled him to be. Mysterious, dashing, mature, and just a little dark: that was how she thought of him. Some dark fantasy that was nothing more than over-hyped memories fueled by adrenaline. Now here she was, confronting him once more, and finding her memories of him had not been romanticized as she had previously thought. He was still just as sinfully beautiful, just as alluring, just as dark as he'd been before.

Jareth observed her inner turmoil, "Well, you may not know what do want, but I certainly do," He leaned in, lips hovering over her own.

Sarah's heart was beating wildly out of her chest. Was he going to? He was. She felt her breathing become shallow as her chest heaved. Her flush spread like wildfire, and she could hear the pounding of her blood in her ears. He was going to kiss her. Why wasn't she struggling, could it have been… Did she, actually want this?

Who was she kidding, a part of her, even when she'd been a young girl, had craved this. His pull was too strong for anyone not to notice. But it couldn't happen like this; they still had far too much to work out between them, especially Hermione. She needed to be rescued.

"No!" she cried out just before it could happen. Jareth looked at her, bewildered. Sarah saw the sting of rejection alight in his eyes, but before she could say anything: the sounds of tumbling and crumbling echoed around them. The wall behind Sarah fell away, and she felt herself being sucked out of the dream. The last thing she remembered was Jareth's heartbroken look as she disappeared.

Sarah awoke with a start, her breathing still rapid and shallow. A bout of vertigo made her head spin, and she took a hand to her forehead in an effort to quell it.

Sarah groaned as the memories of the dream came rushing back to her, "Oh God! What did I almost do?"

She had almost kissed the Goblin King, that's what she had almost done. Mentally, Sarah berated herself until she could think of no more names that could apply to her. Her barrage of self-loathing stopped when she remembered they were running out of time and the boys, to her knowledge at least, still hadn't woken up.

"Damn!" she swore as she staggered to her feet and went looking for them. Why couldn't things ever be simple here?

Jareth lurched awake as well. That dream, when had he ever been privy to Sarah's thoughts and dreams since her victory? Never. She had called to him in her sleep. And he, like the fool she made him, went to her. Only to have him painted the villain again. He muttered under his breath as he watched the goblins cavort about in his throne room. How he had ever fallen asleep here was a mystery.

He supposed he should go check on the little ward. But just then, his goblin commander came running in looking absolutely petrified.

"Your majesty," he began with a quick bow, "The girl!"

Jareth looked at him with slight shock and concern, "The girl?"

"The one who ate the peach and forgot everything!"

"What of her?"

"She's on her way here! With the runners, and Sir Didymus, and the rock troll, and the dwarf who work for you!"

"What?" he nearly seethed, but it wasn't possible. But he remembered her last journey and how when she had eaten the peach, the hallucinogenic fruit had amplified the call of her own magic and had roped him into her ballroom. That was why, but no. No it couldn't be.

Jareth stormed off to the mirror, his goblin commander trailing behind him pestering him for defensive strike tactics. The King ignored him and went into the room, forgetting to close the door behind him. He briskly approached the mirror.

"Show me Sarah!" he commanded it. The glass rippled and shimmered until it at last cleared to show Sarah in the Junk City, having woken he two boys and reunited with the rest of the group.

Jareth felt his knees go weak with shock and only managed to hold onto his dignity by grabbing the back of the brocade chair for support. The goblin commander prodded him once more.

"Your majesty, what should we do?"

Jareth felt the sense of defeat acutely; there was nothing more he could do to delay them.

"Just let them come," he told the commander.

"But your majesty, there must be something we can do to stop them!"

Jareth gave a sigh of melancholy mirth, "No, there isn't."

"But Sire-"

"Enough Gippling!" Jareth held out a hand to silence the goblin, "We cannot do anything but let them come and claim their prize."

"There must be something," Gippling began.

"Don't you remember the last time Sarah Williams stormed the city with that rock troll? Do you remember how many days it took to clean up the city? To repair all the houses and other damages? No, I will not subject the others to that again. Go, tell all the goblins to return to their houses and stay there until I give the signal. Instruct them that under no circumstances are any of them to confront Sarah Williams or her traveling party."

"Sire,"

"It's over Gippling," Jareth said in resignation, "They've won."

From the Junk City to the gate of the Goblin City all had been quiet. There was no sleeping guard for Sir Didymus to antagonize, the gates remained wide open: and though the pieces were set back into place, the doors did not shut to form Humongous. In fact, the robot's huge axe remained stuck in the archway over the gate.

"This is strange," Sarah commented as they cautiously crossed over the threshold.

"How so?" Ron asked.

"It's quiet," Harry remarked.

"Too quiet," Sarah replied, "The last time it was too quiet we got ambushed and Ludo ended up calling a barrage of boulders in to get us out of trouble."

Ludo gave a purring laugh, "Rocks friends," he said.

But still, as the party ventured further and further into the city, no guards came out to try and stop them. And while they heard whispers coming from all around, there were no goblins to be seen. Quicker than they expected, they reached the castle entrance without incident.

"Great!" Ron exclaimed, "Now we can get Hermione and go home!"

"It's not as simple as that," Sarah told him.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

"This isn't over until the final confrontation. You have to beat the King to win the game," she explained.

"Well, come on then! Let's go!" Ron said, charging forth into the castle.

Inside, however, was just as empty as the city. There were no goblins, no poultry, no Hermione, not even Jareth.

"Hermione?" the boys called out for her.

"Hermione, we're here!" Harry yelled.

"Yes, we've come to rescue you!" Ron added.

They heard footsteps echo from the stairwell, and suddenly there she was. Still dressed in the gown Jareth had gifted her and looking just as lovely as she had during the Yule ball. Upon seeing her friends, the end of second year repeated itself: Hermione raced into Harry's arms and gave him the biggest hug she could muster.

"Hermione!" Harry cried exuberantly, "Hermione, are you alright?"

His bookish friend drew back, "I'm fine. Are you alright?"

"We're fine," Harry replied.

"I'm so glad."

"Ahem," Ron cleared his throat.

Hermione pulled back quickly, as though just becoming aware of her ginger-haired friend's presence, "Oh Ron!" she said as she awkwardly wrung her hands together, "Glad to see you came to my rescue."

Ron blushed a little, "It was nothing," he mumbled.

"It would have been a lot more if we hadn't had help," Harry chimed in, nodding back at the other members of their group.

"Sarah?" Hermione gasped.

Sarah nodded, "Yep,"

Hermione rushed to her friend and they shared a small embrace, "It's been ages!" she said happily.

"You've really grown up," Sarah observed.

"So have you," Hermione said on a laugh.

"Right," Ron drawled, "Well, we've beaten the bloody maze, and we got our friend back. Can we go home now?"

"Unfortunately, we can't go home until we beat the King," Sarah reminded him.

"Why not?" Ron asked.

"That's how this game is played."

"Game?" Ron repeated, "You mean to tell me this has all been a game?"

"What do you know about Fae?" Sarah asked the redhead.

"Fae? What's a Fae?"

Sarah sighed, "Jareth is a Fae. Oberon and Titania are Fae. Do you get it?"

"Obnergone and Titanwho?" Ron asked.

"Oberon and Titania," Hermione corrected, "are two characters in Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream. They are the King and Queen of the Fair Folk, better known as Fae."

"What does that have to do with this whole adventure so far being a game?" Ron asked.

"Fae are notorious for being tricksters. They love riddles, they love tricks, and they love games. Never, under any circumstances, agree to play a game against a Fae. The odds are almost never in your favor," Hermione explained.

"And Jareth is a Fae," Sarah added, "Which means this game doesn't end until we find him and beat him."

"Do you know where he is?" Harry asked Hermione.

She shook her head, "He dropped me off at the landing to the throne room and disappeared," she said as she scurried to the stairway, "He must be somewhere in the castle though. I'll help you look," and she too vanished up the steps.

"We will too," Hoggle added as the group made to move forward.

"No," Sarah said gently but firmly, "You know the rules. We have to do this alone."

"If it is the way it is done, it is the way they must do it," Didymus said.

"But why're you goin' with 'em?" Hoggle asked.

"His majesty and I have unfinished business," Was Sarah's reply as she and the boys headed for the steps.

They came upon the Escher Room and found that Hermione was nowhere to be seen. Where could she have gotten off to? Had Jareth taken her? Speaking of which, where was the Goblin King?

"Hermione?" Ron called.

"Ron? Harry?" her voice answered, sounding far away, "Where are you?"

The trio ushered forth, splitting up in their efforts to find Hermione. Occasionally one of them would get a glimpse of her running up stairs or through archways. Unfortunately, they were never able to catch up with her. The whole scene turned into a very tension filled game of Marco Polo, with the clock counting down the seconds.

Finally all three of them caught a glimpse of Hermione on one of the platforms.

"Hermione!" they cried unanimously.

Hermione turned and saw them all in different parts of the mind-boggling room, "Harry, Ron, Sarah!"

"Stay there!" Sarah told her.

"One of us will get to you!" Harry added.

Just then, Hermione felt a gloved hand at her mouth, keeping her from crying out as her friends turned their backs in an effort to reach her.

"Don't say anything," Jareth whispered at her ear. He conjured a crystal and placed it to her head for a moment before releasing it into the air. It started to speak, and the voice was hers.

"Why are you here Ronald?" the crystal asked.

Ron, thinking the voice was actually his friend, replied, "I'm here to rescue you, why else would I be here?"

"You shouldn't be here, and I know you wouldn't be on your own. Harry made you do this, didn't he?"

"What?" Ron stopped in his tracks, visibly stunned by the harsh comment he thought Hermione was making.

"Admit it, you don't want me, you don't even care about me. If I wasn't something Harry might want and could have you'd have nothing to do with me. Even so, you honestly think I'd want you when there's Harry? The boy-who-lived? The Golden Boy of Gryffindor? How do you think you could possibly compare?"

The crystal was doing what it was supposed to, messing with Ron's head enough to make him sit on the ground and curl up into a ball. Harry and Sarah stopped their own progress and watched as the crystal continued to attack Ron.

"You never would have made this far if it wasn't for him!"

"We need to stop that crystal!" Sarah called to Harry.

"Have you learned your lesson? Or did you not even realize there was a lesson to be learned?"

"I, I…" Ron tried to speak, grabbing fistfuls of his hair in the process.

"Ron!" Harry called, "It's not really Hermione! The Goblin King is just trying to make you lose, snap out of it!"

Ron looked up in his confusion and saw Hermione standing with her mouth closed, even while her voice continued to berate him. Seeing that his friend, and minute crush, was not belittling him gave him strength.

"I'm not going to lose to you!" he told the crystal as he stood and started looking for a way to reach Hermione, or at the very least Harry and Sarah.

"You think you can make this right?" the crystal taunted, "You don't even know the right words!"

As Ron glanced to Hermione, the answer came to him. He would have to swallow his pride and admit he made a mistake. He needed to apologize for acting like a spoiled brat and being so selfish as to wish Hermione away. He mustered up his Gryffindor courage; he was seriously going to need it.

"Hermione!" he called out to her.

"Yes?" she called back.

"I have something I need to say to you," Ron began.

Harry, sensing what his friend was about to do, decided he had to tell Hermione what had happened, "Before you start Ron. Hermione, Ron was under an enchantment before he wished you away! Ask the Goblin King, he's the one who told me!"

Hermione looked at Harry in confusion, "An enchantment? But how?"

"I went to go talk with Lavender and she smelled so good, I think it was then she did something to me," Ron explained.

Hermione's logical mind whirred to life, "What did she smell like?" she asked.

"Like all my favorite treats!" Ron answered back as he swung around a corner. The others began moving as well.

Hermione's mind moved a mile a minute, of course.

"Ron, she must have had Amortentia in her perfume keyed to herself. That's why she smelled like that! She deceived you and lied to you. You only reacted accordingly!"

"You mean?" Ron asked with hope in his voice.

"You aren't entirely to blame!" Hermione yelled.

"All the same, I need to say this," Ron dry swallowed as he ducked under another archway, "Hermione, I'm sorry!"

Hermione's expression grew soft, and a beautiful smile lit up her face, "Ron, I forgive you."

At this point, Harry, Ron, and Sarah had come together on a lower platform on the other side of the room. Sarah looked up to her friend.

"Hermione, you need to take a leap of faith!"

"What? You mean jump?" Hermione called back nervously.

"Yes, it's the only way we can end this!" Sarah replied.

"How can you ask me to do that? I can't even get on a broomstick, let alone jump across that cavernous room!"

"Don't worry!" Harry called to her, "We'll be right here to catch you!"

"Yes!" Ron added, "We won't let you fall!"

Hermione heard footsteps echoing behind her. Realizing the Goblin King was coming to try and win the game once more she took a deep breath, squeezed her fists, and leapt.

History repeats itself often. And in this case, it repeated itself in the exact fashion. The Escher room came apart as Hermione landed into the outstretched arms of Harry and Ron. Sarah had to pry her off of them so they could breathe. And she was still visibly shaking as they did so.

"It's alright," Harry soothed her, "You're fine. We're fine. We're going to go home soon."

"I don't understand why you haven't already," Jareth said from behind them.

"What do you mean?" Ron asked.

"I told you: you had thirteen hours in which to solve the Labyrinth. How would you normally solve a labyrinth?"

Hermione automatically answered, "By getting to the center."

Jareth nodded, "You won when you entered the castle. I gave you the girl, you could have left through the door and gone home."

"But Sarah said," Harry began.

"I'm sure she told you the game isn't won until you've beaten the villain. In her case, that was true. In your case, it wasn't."

"So we can go home?" Ron asked hopefully.

"Indeed," Jareth replied.

The golden trio began to regroup.

"This was certainly an interesting evening, wasn't it?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah," Harry agreed, "it was."

"Honestly?" Ron said aloud, "I wish I could forget this whole day ever happened."

Jareth conjured a crystal, "Done," he said as he tossed it at the ginger. Ron instantly disappeared.

Harry and Hermione turned to Jareth.

"Why did you do that?" Hermione sputtered in ire.

"He wished it, I granted it," Jareth explained, "And now," he conjured forth a crystal bigger than any of them had seen: so big, he needed both his hands to hold it, "You both must place a hand on the crystal and swear an oath never to tell him about this, ever."

Harry raised a brow, "And if we refuse?"

"You forfeit all memories of this place," Jareth answered.

Harry looked to his friend, "You're the more logical of us two. Should we swear an oath?"

Hermione looked at him, "Do you like this place enough to want to remember it?" she asked in reply.

Harry thought about it for a moment, "Funnily enough, I do."

"So do I," Hermione agreed, "To be honest, I fell in love with this place when I was a child."

"Then why do you want to leave?" Harry asked.

"I don't belong here. Not now, anyways. Come on," Hermione said, taking his hand.

And together they stepped forth and swore they would never reveal this day to Ron, or anyone ever.

"And now that this is done," Jareth said as he banished the crystal, "You may go home."

"But what about Sarah?" Hermione asked, "How will she get home?"

"Don't worry about me," Sarah replied, "The Goblin King and I have some things we need to discuss anyways. I'll be fine," Sarah winked at the pair.

"If you walk through that archway," Jareth indicated the remnant of such behind them, "You will be back in your common room. I have reordered time so that in your world it will be as if none of this has ever happened."

"But we'll remember?" Harry asked.

"You will," Jareth affirmed.

"Well then," Harry turned to Hermione, "we better get going."

Hermione placed her hand in his, and they walked through the archway.

Sarah and Jareth watched them go. And when they were alone she turned to him.

"So Goblin King," Sarah said, "Where do we start?"

"You can start by calling me Jareth," he replied.

Harry and Hermione were back in their places on the common room couch. Presumably, Ron had gone to confront Lavender, and the book was still on the table in front of them. Remembering what had led to the previous events Harry wisely scooped it off the table and handed it to Hermione: who decided to take it up to her trunk in the girl's dormitory. No sooner had she gone than Ron came bursting in, bristling with rage.

"Ah Ron," Harry began easily, "You just missed Hermione, she said she wasn't feeling well and went up to bed."

"What?" Ron's potion-induced anger gave way to confusion, "I, I needed to speak with her."

"Well, I think that can wait 'til tomorrow, don't you mate?" Harry had a sudden idea that could keep Ron busy for a few moments should Hermione decide to come back down, "Hey, why don't we use my invisibility cloak and raid the kitchen for some late-night snacks?"

"Sounds brilliant mate!" Ron's face lit up and they snuck down.

Much later, when everyone else was in bed. Harry snuck down to the common room to think. He found Hermione standing at a window, watching the storm roll by. Slowly, he walked up behind her.

"It feels a little odd, doesn't it?" he asked her, "The abrupt shift back to normalcy?"

"When are things ever normal around you?" Hermione asked.

"You know, that Labyrinth is quite possibly the least dangerous adversary I've faced since I found out magic existed?"

"It's purpose isn't to kill you, it's to make sure you learn a lesson, and the value of what you're fighting for."

"You sound like you miss it,"

"I spent thirteen hours there, and while I didn't see much, what I did was incredible. It was almost like a sanctuary for the lost, the lonely, the out of place."

"How did you get that impression?"

"I had a heart-to-heart with the Goblin King. You learn a lot when you talk with someone."

"I have only one regret about that place," Harry admitted.

Hermione turned to look at him, "What?"

"I met some real bang up chaps there. They were friends of Sarah's I guess. Didn't get the chance to say goodbye."

"I wish you had."

Then the two heard a rumbling purr. When they looked to the window, they saw a mess of orange fur standing behind them.

"Goodbye Harry," Ludo said. When Harry and Hermione turned to get a better view of him though, they found themselves the only ones in the common room. Turning back to the window, they saw a little fox-terrier dressed in a knight's garb.

"And remember young ones: should you need us," Didymus said as he too faded out. A wizened little dwarf rose up from behind the arm of a couch.

"Yes," Hoggle added, "Should you need us. For, any reason…"

Harry looked to Hermione, who nodded silently.

"You know," Harry began slowly, "I have the feeling that my friends and I are going to be facing a lot in the future…"

"And we may not get the chance to meet with you very often," Hermione added.

"But I'm sure that every now and then in our lives,"

"Even in our own world of magic,"

"For no reason at all. We'll need you, all of you."

"Yeh, yeh do?" Hoggle asked with uncertainty.

"Yes," Harry replied, "All of you."

"Even His Majesty," Hermione said.

"Even Sarah," Harry finished, looking over at Hermione with a sly smile, "So…"

Hermione took the initiative, "What could one night of celebration hurt?"

"Celebration?" Hoggle said in mock surprise, "Well why didn't you say so!"

When Harry and Hermione turned around they were greeted by all of the able-bodied creatures of the Labyrinth they knew, and some they didn't. Some Hermione recognized from the story, others Harry introduced her to from his own journey. The crowd of Underground Goblins started jumping on furniture and hanging off of wall and ceiling fixtures. Harry turned to Hermione with a grin.

"We are going to need so many silencing spells for this," he said over the rising din.

"Right, I'll get right on that," Hermione replied as she reached for her wand.

"I wouldn't worry about that," came a familiar voice. Harry and Hermione turned to find none other than the King of the Goblins alongside the Champion of the Labyrinth.

"Why not?" Hermione asked.

"I have personally made sure that none of this will make it to unwanted ears or eyes. Please, feel free to be as boisterous and outlandish as you wish," Jareth replied.

The two teens laughed, one of the few bone-deep, soul-satisfying laughs they'd had in a while and went to join the revelry.

Ages later, once Harry had headed up to bed and Jareth was busy keeping the portal open so that no stray Labyrinthian inhabitants were accidentally left behind Hermione took Sarah off to the side.

"So," Hermione began awkwardly.

"So?" Sarah repeated with a knowing grin.

"So, how did things work out? Between you and his majesty?"

Sarah scratched at the back of her head, "Oh, you want to talk about that huh?"

"What did you think I wanted to talk about?"

"The fact that I kept the secret that everything in that book was real from you? Or the fact that we only communicated because I wanted to know if you ever got the urge to wish someone away?"

Hermione sighed, "Sarah, as you may have noticed at this point: I'm living in a castle, I have a wand on my person and I know how to make things happen by using it. This whole school is dedicated to magical education. Finding out that a different subspecies of Goblins exist ruled by a Fae monarch isn't really that surprising at this point in my life. As for the other question, do you really think I believe that after nearly ten years the only reason you write to me is because you fear I might wish someone away?"

Sarah tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, "It started out that way," she admitted.

"But is it still the modus operandi on your end?" Hermione asked.

"No," Sarah said honestly, "to be completely truthful it stopped after the first few letters I received from you. You were so like me and yet, so different. And when you went off to school, I realized I was foolish to have ever thought you'd resort to wishing someone away: especially after I received that letter from your third year detailing how you punched that annoying kid in the face."

The two females shared a laugh at the memory.

"But seriously," Sarah said once their mirth had subsided somewhat, "is there any way I can make it up to you?"

"I'll think about it," Hermione replied, "Now back to my original question: have you worked anything out? I know that whenever I sent you letters asking about the Goblin King you always seemed particularly bitter about it, though until now I never understood why."

"We did some talking, and had a disagreement," Sarah said with a sheepish chuckle.

"Brings out the best in you, does he?"

"Something like that," Sarah replied, "There's, a lot of bad blood between Jareth and I. And it's going to take more than just one conversation to make it okay."

"So you're going to try and work things out with him? Have you made any progress?"

"I no longer see him as the villain, I think we might even be: acquaintances," Sarah bit back a groan, "God that sounds clinical doesn't it?"

"Quite," Hermione agreed, "I take it there are going to be more conversations?"

Sarah blew out a breath, "Yeah,"

Hermione snuck a glance at the Fae monarch, "I get the feeling that with his majesty involved, there's going to be more than just talking between the two of you."

"You're getting that vibe too huh? You don't happen to know any spells or charms that will keep wandering fingers at bay, do you?"

Hermione laughed, "Not off the top of my head. I'll see what I can do."

"Right, well I need to get home. It's still early in the evening there," Sarah pushed off the wall she'd been leaning against, "I'll write you, okay?"

Hermione nodded, "I have just one more question,"

Sarah silently bade her to go on.

"You said everything in the story was true, does that mean?"

The words: What no one knew, was that the King of the Goblins had fallen in love with the girl, and had given her certain powers went unspoken between them.

Sarah took a deep breath, her cheeks flushing a delicate pink, "We'll see…" was all she said before she strode over to Jareth.

"Jareth? Can you take me home? I think I've had enough excitement for one day."

"Of course Sarah," Jareth looked over at Hermione, "Goodnight Miss Granger; pleasant dreams."

Just as they were getting ready to go, a thought sprung in Hermione's mind and without being filtered, sprang to her lips.

"Sarah!" she called, her friend looked back, "I know how you can make it up to me!"

"How?"

"By inviting Harry and I to the royal wedding!" she laughed as she finished her sentence, and Sarah's cheeks reddened with both embarrassment and annoyance.

"Good night Hermione!" came out simultaneously with Jareth's, "Will do!" and then they were gone.

It was then Hermione finally took herself to bed but not before making at pit stop at her trunk. Gingerly, she lifted the little red book responsible for all that had happened to her today and lovingly ran a hand over the cover and spine. A wistful smile crossed her lips as the placed it back inside, the memories of the previous hours already fading somewhat, becoming more like a dream than reality. As Hermione fell into a semi-conscious state words she had never heard spilled forth in a hushed whisper,

"It's only forever, not long at all."

And really, wasn't that what true magic was?

First, a couple of things:

this takes place towards the end of fifth year, Hermione's birthday is september 19th, 1979. That means at the time of this fic she is sixteen going to turn seventeen later that year. Second, there is a good amount of dialogue that is taken from the movie Labyrinth because as I mentioned several times in the story. the Labyrinth is seen as a game by all except the challengers. That means that in this storyline, all the characters have certain dialogues they recite when they encounter a runner, like a reenactment actor at a historical site. They are playing roles and that dialogue is part of their characters. I am saying this now to avoid receiving reviews addressing these issues.

Ronmione shippers, please don't hate me! I just really love the whole redemption arc from the Horcrux hunt and I wanted to keep that cannon. Also, I wanted to give enough explore the close relationship between Harry and Hermione and have someone question that it could be romantic without making it so. Sorry if I'm not explaining that well. For those of you wondering, that Latin stuff translates to portal to the mortal world. And all my Sarah Jareth shippers, I wanted their relationship to be realistic, which means they need to grow and progress from the issues that divided them in the first place, it also leaves it open to a Labyrinth centered followup if I so desire. Please Review because as stated at the beginning this will more than likely be my last post for a while. Constructive criticism is welcomed, but don't needlessly tell me you couldn't get into the story that is not a problem on my end necessarily because everyone is different so everyone's taste in storytelling is different. Again, thank you all for the time you spent reading this and tell me what you thought.