Heaven and Hell

9th Chapter - Hogsmeade Trip

(Halloween, October 1995)

"Have you ever tried butterbeer, Jon?" Ron asked between two bites of bacon at breakfast. Jon, whose mouth was full of bread and honey, shook his head in reply.

"You'll love it. It's the world's most delicious drink," Ron told him excitedly. "You'll see."

Jon swallowed his bread. "Butterbeer," he said, briefly inclining his head, "is now added to my list."

Fred and George entered the Great Hall, sitting down at the Gryffindor table next to Harry and Ron. They had overheard Jon mentioning butterbeer and Fred (Or was it George? Jon could never tell one from the other.) asked, "Well, Jon, what do you think of Hogsmeade so far?"

With a big grin, Jon answered, "Harry and Ron have praised it to the skies. For days I haven't heard anything from them but Hogsmeade this and Hogsmeade that. If everything they told me is true, it must be heaven on earth. Are you two going to the village this afternoon?"

"Oh, absolutely," George (or Fred?) chimed in. "We have important business to attend to."

"Business?"

Fred and George gave each other meaningful looks, but didn't answer. Instead, Ron gave Jon an explanation.

"They want to convince the owner of Zonko's to buy their Canary Creams. And maybe get into long-term business dealings with them."

Jon nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, I think that could work."

He recalled his first evening at Hogwarts, when Ron's brothers had given him a welcome present - an innocent looking custard cream that had tasted delicious but had turned him into a giant yellow canary. After he had overcome his initial shock, he had enthusiastically bought a couple of Canary Creams from the twins and presented them to his mum at the next opportunity.

While Ron's brothers piled enough food on their plates to feed a whole Quidditch team, the owl post arrived. Pigwidgeon dropped a letter into Harry's lap and landed screeching and fluttering on his Pumpkin Pasty. After Harry had given Pig a piece of it, the tiny feathered ball spread his wings with a last overexcited shriek and left for the owlery.

Hermione had received mail as well. It was a thick, heavy letter and when Hermione read the sender's name, her expression brightened noticeably. Eagerly she broke the seal and began to read.

Harry tore open his letter as eagerly as Hermione had opened hers, but in contrast to her his face darkened when he read on. It was only a short letter and he finished it with a frown after half a minute.

"What's in it?" Ron asked Harry, worried about this sudden change of mood.

"The letter's from Sirius. He -" Harry began, but was interrupted by Jon's gasp.

"Sirius Black? The murderer who escaped Azkaban two years ago and is still at large?"

Harry shook vehemently his head. "Sirius is no murderer! He's innocent. Peter Pettigrew did the murders, but made it look like Sirius had."

"Oh, really?" Sceptically, Jon frowned. "But why's the Ministry still searching for him if he's innocent? And why's he hiding then?"

"Because Pettigrew has disappeared, and no one's believing Sirius' innocence if he can't prove it."

"But you do. Why?" Jon wondered.

"Because it's the truth. And Dumbledore trusts him too," Ron butted in. He apparently assumed that this sufficed as explanation. Closing the matter, he came to the point that was of more interest for him. "Harry, why's Sirius writing to you?"

"I wrote a letter to him and Remus, telling them about Serena and asking them about her. And this -", he lifted the letter, "is Sirius' answer."

"What's he saying?" Three pairs of eyes looked inquiringly at Harry.

Noting his friends' attention, Harry sighed. "Basically nothing. He wrote that if Serena won't tell me, he can't either. All he can say is that she's trustworthy. And about my question if he knows why Serena and Snape don't get along he wrote that he doesn't know, but he also wrote that - and I quote - 'it's good that she finally came to her senses and got rid of the greasy git.'"

"Sounds as if he doesn't like Snape much," Jon commented, chuckling.

"As if anyone would," Ron said, his dislike for Snape evident on his face. "But these two are at a particular nasty feud. Sirius played a prank at him once and Snape's still whining about it."

Once again, Harry sighed. "Sirius was obviously a dead-end," he said, downhearted.

"But maybe this'll cheer you up," Hermione chimed in, looking extremely pleased with herself and smiling. Her expression reminded the others of many occasions when Hermione had found the answer to a problem in a book.

"How?" Harry asked in a doubtful tone.

"Like you know, or probably not, the Oxford University Library contains not only a huge collection of Muggle books, but has a magical department as well. It's even bigger than the Hogwarts library. I was working there for a couple of weeks last summer, helping with the stocktaking and updating the catalogue. It was the best summer job I ever had -"

"Could you come to the point, please?" Ron urged her impatiently.

"Among other things they're archiving a copy of each issue of the wizarding newspapers. I wrote to my friend Shona who's working at the Library, asking her to go through the old records, looking for information about Serena Potter. I thought, maybe Jon's mum did something that was noteworthy enough to get into the newspapers, something that'd give us a clue about her past. And these -", she smoothed the letter in front of her, "are copies of what Shona found out."

The three boys looked at her with mingled amazement and admiration.

"That was a great idea, Hermione. Why haven't you told us about it?"

Hermione had been right - Harry looked better, and highly interested.

"I didn't want to raise your hopes in case Shona didn't find anything. But she did. The first is an article from June 1976 about the tower that Professor Potter blew up as student. They made a big fuss over whether or not the Hogwarts staff was able to ensure the students' safety. There's no word about the fact that no one was badly injured."

Hermione skimmed the rest of the page for any more useful information and groaned when she read the author's name.

"I should have known it! 'Written by the ambitious and up-and-coming young Rita Skeeter'. She hasn't changed her writing style one bit since then."

"Is there anything we don't know already?" Harry asked curiously.

Hermione looked at the next page. "Yes, this here. But I'm not sure if it's helping us. It's another Daily Prophet article, saying that two groups of young people clashed violently in Diagon Alley on the night of July 15, 1978. Residents reported them to the Aurors for disturbing the peace and they were arrested before they could do serious harm to each other. However, after spending one night in the drying-out cell all of them were released. Shona has done some further research and attached a list of all people involved."

Hermione took the small note that was attached to the article's copy with a paper clip, and placed it in the middle of the table, the list of names for all clearly to see.

Black, Sirius,
Dolohov, Antonin
Lestrange, Bellatrix
Lestrange, Rodolphus
Longbottom, Frank
Lupin, Remus
Malfoy, Lucius
Pettigrew, Peter
Potter, James
Potter, Serena
Snape, Severus

"Looks like a fight between followers and opponents of You-Know-Who," Ron said after reading the list.

Harry gave Ron a long thoughtful look. "You should really start to call him by his name. It's rather easy. Vol-de-mort. It's only a name, after all. Anyway, you seem to be right."

"Wow, Mum was in prison!" Jon grinned broadly. "That's great!"

"Is it?" Ron cast a puzzled look at Jon.

"Oh yeah, that's a priceless counter. Imagine, if she tells me off for something I did, I can answer, 'Oh, Mum, I know it was bad, but at least I wasn't sent to jail!' She can't give me a hard punishment after this, don't you think so?"

Ron contemplated Jon's answer for a moment, and then blurted out, "Hermione, could you ask your friend to find out if my mum has done any youthful folly that got her arrested? She tells me off a lot more often than Jon's mother does with him."

Harry had silently followed the dialogue between Jon and Ron, but since it strayed more and more away, he asked in order to get the discussion back to the original topic, "Is there anything else, Hermione? Something really informative?"

"Maybe," was Hermione's answer. "Shona writes that she vaguely remembers hearing the name Serena Potter in connection with one of the numerous Death Eater trials that took place after You-Know- erm... Voldemort's downfall."

"Mum stood a Death Eater trial? That can't be!" Jon exclaimed, getting upset that someone could even think such an atrocious thing about his mum. "I know her, she's nothing like a Death Eater! She's nice, friendly, loving -"

"No one said that she stood a trial. Shona only remembers that she heard her name in connection with one," Hermione said, interrupting Jon's outburst. "For all we know she could've been there as a witness, spectator, or heaven knows what. And even if she was the defendant, the fact that she isn't in Azkaban should tell you something."

"Isn't there any more information about that trial?" Harry asked.

"No, unfortunately not. Shona didn't yield anything in the Daily Prophet so far. Files about Death Eater trials are kept under lock and key in the Ministry. You can't just go in and have a look. You must fill out a heap of forms first in order to get access granted. Shona is currently doing so. As soon as she knows more she'll get in touch with me again."

"So we're as stupid as ever," Harry summarised their conversation. "I hope, your friend'll find out something about that trial."

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but it's time to go to the Quidditch Pitch," Ron cut in, suddenly sounding urgent.

Hermione looked at the clock above the entrance to the Great Hall. "I thought, the Quidditch qualifier started at ten? There's still more than an hour left."

"That's right," Jon concurred with Hermione. "But, as you know, Ron's fiercely determined to make it onto the Gryffindor Quidditch team this year. Now that Oliver Wood has left the school, Ron hopes to get his place on the team. And Harry and I have promised to practise with him and warm him up for the tryout."

"Oh, I understand. That's why you've brought already your broomsticks with you. But why didn't you bring the balls as well? Do you only want to practise flying?" Hermione asked, trying to show at least a bit of interest in her friends Quidditch ambitions.

Ron, suddenly paling, cast a searching gaze around and rose from his seat. "Erm, I'll be back in a minute," he called and hurried out of the Great Hall.

"He's so enthusiastic about getting onto the team that he could hardly sleep last night, and now he forgot the Quidditch balls?" Jon shook his head, bemused.

"Probably his mind was too occupied with caring for his new broomstick," Harry guessed.

Fred agreed, "Yeah, after Ron worked so hard all summer long to earn enough money to buy a Firebolt III, he's now outright obsessed with it."

"You should have seen him. All through the holidays, Ron counted his money every evening and calculated for us how many galleons he still needed and how long he had to work to get them," George chimed in.

"Right, exactly three more months -", Fred said.

"Five days -", George continued.

"And four hours," Fred finished.

"But he's already bought the new broom", Jon said, puzzled. "Has he borrowed the rest of the money?"

"No, a sudden win of 200 Galleons in a lottery sped up the whole process considerably."

"Lottery? Ron took part in a lottery to win the money for his broomstick?" Hermione shook her head. "Then he was very lucky to actually have won. If you calculate the chances of it..."

"In point of fact, he didn't. We bought a ticket for him, because we knew the holidays weren't long enough to earn so much money. And then we prayed for luck and voila - he won!" The twins grinned broadly.

At that moment, Ron returned, holding a brown box that contained the four Quidditch balls. He took the broomstick he had left so he could run up the stairs faster and gave Harry and Jon an impatient look.

"You're coming, to watch Ron at the tryout, aren't you?" Harry asked Hermione, rising from the bench.

"Yes, I wouldn't want to miss it. If only to avoid Ron retelling each second of it later, and repeating it countless times." Hermione smiled, ignoring Ron's glare, and got up as well. "Until then, I'll go to the library. Chances are small, but perhaps I can find something about that trial. See you later." With these words she turned and left.

Jon swallowed the last mouthful of his breakfast and headed, together with Ron, for the door. When they noticed that Harry didn't follow immediately, they stopped in the doorway, waiting for him.

Harry had stayed behind because he wanted to talk to the twins without Ron hearing it. But he didn't even need to open his mouth; Fred and George knew very well what Harry was about to say.

"He wouldn't have taken it otherwise. You know, Ron's terribly stubborn and proud," George explained, aware that Harry had seen through their little ploy.

"And we promised you that we wouldn't let anyone know that we have so much money," Fred added. "So this was the only way."

Harry smiled. "I won't breathe a word to Ron. And thank you for helping him out. The Firebolt III means a lot to him." Then he hurried after his waiting friends.

"Why did you take so long?" Ron wondered.

"Oh, nothing. I had only a question about the tryout. Now let's go."

* * *

At the stroke of nine the annual Quidditch tryout had started. The four Houses had their tryouts at one-hour-intervals, and Gryffindor was the second team this year. Madam Hooch kept a list with the names of all students who wanted to apply for a position. There were mostly second and third years, but also a few older students.

When Oliver Wood finished last year, he left two positions vacant - Keeper and team captain. The team had been in agreement that Harry should be the new captain. To find a replacement for the Keeper's position was far more difficult. Besides Oliver, the Reserve Keeper and two Reserve Chasers had also finished their schooling and left the Gryffindor team. So the Quidditch tryout was looked forward to with great expectation, but also anxiety. And of course there was always the chance to discover an unknown Quidditch talent.

Hermione and Jon had settled among other Gryffindors in the stands. But even if within the next hour only Gryffindors showed their skills, hoping for a place on the team, the spectators weren't limited to Gryffindors only. Members of the other Houses were interested in the quality of Gryffindor reinforcements as well.

Madam Hooch called the names from the list, one by one. Dependent on the position they were trying out for, the regular team members flew a couple of manoeuvres with them, let them throw and catch the Quaffle and played a light, short, impromptu Quidditch match. Most of the applicants could fly better than average, but either they were to slow, or couldn't catch the balls, or too often missed the hoops. They were sent away with the comment, "Practise a bit more and try again next year!"

Gradually, the team was overcome with frustration. Weren't there any talented Quidditch players in Gryffindor anymore?

One of the few bright spots was Ron. Although Fred and George tried everything to disturb him with carefully aimed Bludgers, they couldn't hit Ron. His Firebolt III was incredibly fast, and the extensive training was paying off, Ron's reflexes were rapid. Angelina and Alicia couldn't score much and when they landed, Ron got spontaneous applause from the spectators.

Harry padded Ron's shoulder, grinning. "You were great!"

Twenty minutes later they had seen all the applicants and the Gryffindor team members retreated for discussion. It didn't take long until they returned and Harry told Ron, delighted, that he was unanimously chosen as the new Keeper.

Jon and Hermione had come down from the stands and were the first after Harry to congratulate Ron. Hermione hugged Ron, but only quickly because he suddenly stiffened and blushed furiously and Hermione didn't want to embarrass him any further.

Ron gave a loud whoop and announced enthusiastically that he'd stand a round of butterbeer in Hogsmeade for his friends to celebrate this success. As soon as the words had left his mouth, he almost regretted them, but then remembered that he had still a few galleons left over of his lottery prize and grinned joyfully.

* * *

It seemed as if success made him hungry, because Ron devoured about twice as much food as usual at lunch. Nevertheless he managed to chatter almost incessantly about Quidditch, him being the new Keeper, and what effect this would have on the Gryffindor team. In his imagination he already held the Quidditch Cup in his hands.

Harry let him talk, seeming to be pleased that his friend was happy. Hermione had opted out of the conversation long ago, listening to Ginny instead. Jon was half-heartedly following Ron's speech and inwardly debating if his pocket money would be enough for the afternoon or if he should stop by his mum's office to ask her for some additional money, just in case.

An hour later they left for Hogsmeade, Jon having two more Galleons in his pocket than at lunchtime. Ron still had his head in the clouds, but at least now and then he came down to earth just long enough to explain to Jon what was so special about Zonko's Joke shop, Honeydukes Sweetshop, the Quidditch shop or the post office.

"You have to try out the dungbombs at Zonko's, they're fantastic!"

"The owlery at the post office is marvellous!"

"The Fizzing Whizbees are a must. Taste them, you'll be amazed!"

Finally Jon had tried out, marvelled at, and tasted everything and they decided to end their tour at the Three Broomsticks. They found a free table in a corner at the far end of the pub. Jon and Hermione sat down, while Harry helped Ron to get the butterbeer that Ron had promised.

Curiously, Jon looked around. It was crammed, loud, and smoky, but still cosy. Students occupied almost every table. Next to the door, Jon could see a few professors sitting around a table and talking animatedly. His mum was also there. Five minutes later Harry and Ron returned with four mugs of butterbeer and sat down.

"To the new Keeper! Cheers, Ron!"

"You were right," Jon said after a while. "This is indeed the best drink I've ever had."

"See what I mean? I told you so," Ron answered cheerfully, wiping froth off his upper lip.

"Hermione, did you find anything in the library?" Harry suddenly voiced the thoughts that had been occupying most of his mind since breakfast..

Hermione shook her head. "No. But as I said, it wasn't very likely either. I mean, if they keep the files under lock and key, they wouldn't have free accessible copies lying about at Hogwarts. What's that?"

Her last question was directed at Jon who stared thoughtfully at a piece of parchment.

Noticing the sudden silence at the table, Jon looked up and met inquiring looks. "Oh, this. I don't know. I found it in my cauldron, a while ago. It must have fallen off Mum's desk. Actually, I wanted to give it back to her, but I forgot. I found it in my pocket when I was looking for money. That's so weird."

Ron laughed. "No, I wouldn't say that. On the contrary, it's quite normal for you to forget things. Remember the last Charms lesson? You forgot your wand and to hide this fact you painted the stones with ink instead of turning them black magically."

A big grin appeared on Jon's face when he recalled that lesson. "So what? It served it's purpose - Professor Flitwick didn't notice that I was without my wand. He only complained that I should have done dry colour. But what I meant is this poem on the parchment. That's weird."

Jon put the parchment in the middle of the table. Harry and Ron put their heads together, reading it. When they were finished, they exchanged puzzled looks and turned it around, so that Hermione could read it too. She had already tried to decipher the text with letters upside down, but it was much easier to read the right way round. It seemed indeed to be a poem, and a strange one at that.

The Flash breaks the Darkness for a moment.
The Sun breaks the Darkness for a day.
But if both unite, together they'll drive
The Darkness forever away.

While the Flash will survive the Darkness,
The Sun will die of torture and pain.
But should the Sun be killed again,
Darkness will eternally reign.

"If your mum plans a career as a poet, she should better forget about it. I mean, it rhymes, but it doesn't make sense," Ron commented on the text.

Jon shook his head. "I don't think that it's by her. Look at the bottom!"

The poem was signed B. Lestrange

Hermione held her finger up, wearing a look, which expressed that she knew something that the others hadn't thought of. "Remember Shona's letter, the report about a couple of young people being arrested? One of the names was Bellatrix Lestrange."

They all nodded, remembering it now too. Harry added, a shadow creeping over his face, "Voldemort mentioned a pair of Lestranges at the graveyard last year. They're in Azkaban." He didn't mention why they were there, though. He had promised to tell no one about the Longbottoms, not even his best friends.

"Maybe they got imprisoned for cruel verse writing?" Jon chaffed, trying to cheer Harry up.

"They were Death Eaters," Harry answered, neither smiling nor commenting on Jon's joke.

Hermione read the text again. "I can't help it," she said with a frown, "but that sounds so much like something Trelawney would come out with, it isn't even funny."

"You mean, it's a prophecy?" Harry appeared sceptical.

"It would be likely. Look at it. It talks about the future, things that will happen or not. And it doesn't make sense at first glance, like most prophecies. So soothsayers try to disguise that in fact they don't predict anything."

Jon shook his head resolutely. "No, Hermione. Prophecies make sense. They're just riddles, and to understand them you have to solve the riddle."

"Riddles!" Ron put his mug down at the table with a thud, looking rather fed up. "Why can't seers simply say: Tomorrow at six thirty a storm will destroy your house. You'd better not be at home, or you'll be injured badly. It's clear and understandable and useful, unlike this rubbish."

"It isn't rubbish, Ron. Mum wouldn't keep it if it were. Come to think of it, it could read as follows: the Darkness means the Dark Lord, and the Sun and the Flash in combination can rid us of him forever."

"So this is saying: You-Know-Who'll be struck by lightning at a sunny day and that will kill him?" Catching a glimpse from Harry, Ron added quickly, "Voldemort, I wanted to say Voldemort." He suppressed a shudder, looking as if he wanted to say anything but Voldemort.

Jon shook his head. "I don't think that you should take Sun and Flash literally. Like Darkness is a metaphor for the Dark Lord, they are most likely metaphors for someone else. The question is: Who?"

Hermione, who had gazed at Harry, thinking hard, burst out, "I know it! I know who the Flash is!"

Three pairs of eyes stared piercingly at her, when she continued, "That's pretty obvious, isn't it? The Flash is Harry! He's got a lightning shaped scar and he survived Voldemort's attempt to kill him."

Jon nodded exited. "Yes, and look at the first line! This has already happened, Harry broke Voldemort's power! But not forever, because he's back."

Ron looked unconvinced. "I don't know. Twelve years are a bit more than just a moment."

"Not if you compare it with eternity," Harry said, disagreeing with Ron.

"Ok," Hermione spoke tentatively, "Let's assume that's indeed a prophecy and it'll come true. Then it's implying that Harry can defeat the Dark Lord only if he unites with the Sun. Do we know anyone who could be described as sun?"

For a while no one answered. Each of the four went through the list of people they knew, but no one seemed even remotely comparable with a sun.

Jon finally asked, "Do we even know what qualifies someone as sun? Having a round face? A yellow face? A round scar? Or birthmark? Or being hot? Another question: according to the prophecy Voldemort has to kill him or her twice to win. How can someone be killed twice?"

Hermione's brain was already working at the problem. "What about a ghost? A ghost would've died already and was still able to help Harry defeat the Dark Lord."

"And how do you kill a ghost again? He or she's already dead," Harry objected.

"Maybe an immortal?" Ron suggested. "An immortal wouldn't die and could be killed again. At least someone could try to do so - since immortals won't die the killing would never be more than an attempt."

This idea was met with clear opposition by Hermione. Shaking her head, she said, "No, that doesn't fit. Firstly, do immortals even exist? And secondly, why should it be a problem to kill them a second time, if they survive anyway? Why shouldn't they be able to unite with Harry after the second assassination attempt?"

Jon folded the parchment and put it back in his pocket. "I don't think we'll find an answer without knowing more. The note still belongs to Mum, and I'll give it back to her. I could ask her about the Sun then. Maybe she has an idea."

"And what are the chances that she's willing to share that information with you?" Harry asked Jon, sounding a bit sulky.

"We'll see," Jon answered, ignoring the hidden reproach in Harry's voice.

For a while, everyone was silent, pondering about the prophecy. Harry, who noticed Draco Malfoy and his cronies entering the Three Broomsticks, finally broke the silence, voicing another thought that had been going round in his mind for a while.

"I wonder how Malfoy'd react if he knew that he's Jon's brother?"

Hermione gave Harry a reproving glare. After they had eavesdropped on the argument between Snape and Serena, nobody had mentioned that issue again. At first, everyone had been too shocked. Later they had silently agreed to wait for Jon to touch on the subject, but he had preferred to not say another word about it.

"Perhaps we should just tell him. With a bit of luck the news about being related to a Potter will shock him so much that he drops dead on the spot," Ron suggested.

Jon clenched his teeth. More or less successful, he had repressed any thoughts about that argument. He hadn't even talked to his mum about it for fear of getting a confirmation of being a Malfoy.

"Draco Malfoy isn't my brother!" he answered back sharply. "Only because Snape's assuming things, they don't have to be true!"

"But she didn't deny it," Harry replied.

"But she didn't confirm it either. I don't know Lucius Malfoy, but you said he looks like Draco. Do I look like Draco? Not in the slightest!"

"Well, you look like Serena. Your father could look like a Kappa, or, for that matter, like Lucius Malfoy, because you obviously didn't inherit much of his appearance."

Ron concurred with Harry. "Yeah, Jon, the biggest difference between you and your mother is your height. She's small, and you're not. Now guess, who's also tall."

"About two thirds of the male population, I dare say. Lucius Malfoy's NOT my father! I refuse to believe that bullshit!"

"Calm down again, it's only a theory, after all," Harry said, mollifying Jon.

"And what you all seemed to have forgotten, sixteen years ago Lucius Malfoy was certainly already a Death Eater. Why should Professor Potter get involved with a Death Eater?" Hermione added thoughtfully.

Jon nodded in agreement. "A voice of reason, at last. You see, it can't be. Now let's talk about something else. For instance Ron's admission onto the Gryffindor team."

This tactic didn't fail in its attempt to change the conversation. Ron's expression brightened considerably and he took a deep breath in preparation of another speech about the advantages of a first-class Keeper. But as soon as he was ready to commence, he was cut short by a malicious sounding voice.

"My, my! I'm surprised that you lot still waste your time with this bloke." Draco Malfoy, as usual accompanied by his heavies Crabbe and Goyle, had approached their table. Gazing intently at Harry, he continued, "Particularly you, Potter. If I were you, I wouldn't speak a word to this cousin of yours, nor to his mother." Smirking, he folded his arms.

"Shut up, Malfoy, and mind your own business," Harry snapped, glaring at Draco.

Unimpressed, Draco continued, "I bet, they haven't told you that she used to be a Death Eater, and that she helped to deliver your parents up to the Dark Lord!"

Jon rose so abruptly from his seat that his chair fell over with a clattering sound. "That's not true!" he yelled.

"Oh, then you did tell him?" Draco mocked him.

"No, because there's nothing to tell. That's pure fabrication, and you'll take it back, right now!" Jon clenched his fist, looking as if he wanted to place it firmly on Draco's nose.

Draco gave a short laugh. "Fabrication? Oh no. Father's known her for ages, and he told me a few interesting facts about your not-so-innocent mother. What do you think why she knows so much about Defence Against the Dark Arts? Because she's well-versed in the Dark Arts themselves."

"Shut up!" Harry butted in. Being disgruntled about Serena's secretiveness was one thing, letting Draco Malfoy vilify his relative was a completely different matter. "If you can't prove any of your trumped up charges, shut up and sod off!"

"You want proof? Have you ever looked at her left forearm? Father said that she bears a Dark Mark, the sign of the high-ranking Death Eaters!"

"Oh, and of course he must know, having a Dark Mark himself!" Harry countered cynically.

Draco gave another short laugh, but it sounded contrived as if it was supposed to disguise insecurity. "So what? Father was put under the Imperius Curse and forced to act as Death Eater. He has been acquitted on all charges. But she -" Draco cast a sideways glance at the professors' table, where Serena was sniffing suspiciously at a glass that Hagrid held under her nose, "she did everything of her own free will. If she hadn't fled the country, she'd have been sent to Azkaban!"

Harry shook his head, disbelieving. "She's returned and no one's arrested her! She wouldn't be teaching at Hogwarts, if there was even an ounce of truth in your accusations!"

"Right," Jon agreed with Harry. "And besides that, we absolutely don't care about what your father says. So spare us any more of it and piss off!" He looked at Draco with a strangely fixed, intimidating, Snape-like stare. Trying to restrain himself, Jon gripped his mug's handle so tight that his knuckles became white.

Suddenly the smug smirk returned to Draco's face. "So, you don't care? I got the impression that you did, feeling so compelled to defend her. However, if you don't care, then I won't bother you with information about your father." He turned to leave, noticing with satisfaction Jon's failure to display indifference when Draco mentioned Jon's father.

"Pah! As if you actually knew something," Jon said condescendingly, trying to manipulate Draco to spill his information without admitting that he wanted to hear it. Worried, Jon wondered if Snape's assumption might have been correct. Or why else would Lucius Malfoy, Draco's source of information, know about Jon's father? But then, would Malfoy really tell Draco if he was? Wouldn't it be more likely that he kept it a secret?

However, Draco was obviously dying to spread the news. He rose instantly to the bait and blurted out with a triumphant gleam in his eyes, "Oh yes, I do. I know why she doesn't tell your father's name. Father said, she was whoring around with so many Death Eaters that she doesn't even know who finally scored and produced you."

"Bollocks! I'll shut your filthy trap!" Displaying a nimbleness that was quite unexpected for such a lanky body, Jon leaped at Draco. The momentum knocked both of them down and Draco's head hit the floor. Not caring if this had resulted in an injury or not, Jon punched Draco full force in his face, pleased as he saw Draco's eyebrow beginning to bleed. A temporary dizziness overcame Draco and enabled Jon to straddle him without much resistance. He used his knees to pin Draco's arms down on the floor. Out of his mind with rage, Jon rained blow after blow on his helpless opponent.

When Crabbe and Goyle reacted, attempting to come to Draco's assistance, they found themselves hindered by Harry and Ron who seized them and held them back. Actually, Crabbe and Goyle were heavier and stronger than Harry and Ron and should have been able to shake them off. But the fact that these Gryffindors dared to wrestle with them surprised them both so much that they forgot their advantage in strength for a couple of seconds.

* * *

Suddenly, Draco saw Professor Snape appear in his blurred vision and he felt the weight that had pinned him down being lifted off him. Using his sleeve, he tried to wipe something hot and sticky out of his left eye. He felt himself being hauled up and put back on his feet. A hand at his collar and another at his right arm held him firmly in place. Draco noticed that Snape had a hard time doing the same with Jon. The Gryffindor was still fuming, not paying attention as to who restrained him. He struggled blindly to break free and to pounce on Draco again. Some other professors were holding Crabbe, Goyle, Ron, and Harry in check.

"Stop it!" Draco heard the voice of Potter's mother bark behind him, causing Jon to freeze. For the next few seconds, he contented himself with glaring daggers at Draco. So it was her who was holding him, Draco realised.

"If you have to fight, kindly do it outside!" she continued, earning a brief, strange glance from Snape.

"You aren't supposed to fight at all!" Snape thundered, turning his gaze towards Jon. "Assault and battery on a fellow student, Mister Potter, makes thirty points off Gryffindor and a detention."

Draco heard the professor behind him growl under her breath. She obviously didn't agree with Snape, but couldn't do anything about it. Firstly, professors didn't argue in front of the students. And secondly, because Jon was her son, everything she'd do would be regarded as favouritism.

An idea made him inwardly smile. Professor Potter was smaller than Draco, and a woman too. She apparently believed Draco wouldn't cause trouble because he was a student and she was a professor. But she wasn't really a match for him, was she? He began to wriggle himself out of her grip, as if he wanted to get back on Jon. As he had expected, she let go of his collar, seizing his left wrist instead in an attempt to pin his arm behind his back and force him to hold still. But in that moment Draco twisted his right arm, causing her to loosen her grip, and jerked his arm to the left. There, he got hold of her sleeve and tugged at it with all his strength.

With satisfaction, he noticed all the bystanders growing rigid with surprise. Horrified, they stared at Serena's uncovered forearm. A Dark Mark was clearly visible there. He knew it! Father would never lie to him! Draco stole a glance at Jon. From his expression it was clear he hadn't had the faintest idea.

Serena let go of Draco and pulled hastily her sleeve down, hiding the mark. Seeing the look on Jon's face, she made a step towards him and said apprehensively, "Jon, I can explain -"

But Jon didn't listen. Abruptly he tore himself away from Snape who didn't even try to hold him back and stormed out of the pub.

Serena flashed Draco a short glance, making him take a step back out of fear. She'd seen through him, he thought. She knew that he had known about the Dark Mark and had exposed it deliberately. For a moment, he thought she'd kill him now.

But she didn't. For a while, she just stood there, rooted to the spot, unsure what to do. She looked at Harry, who averted his gaze from her. Disappointment and revulsion was written all over his face. Neither Ron nor Hermione dared to meet her gaze and looked, embarrassed, down at their feet.

After an eternity, she said to Snape, "Settle this here. I have to go."

She turned, heading for the door. People hurriedly got out of her way and seemed incredibly relieved when she finally left the Three Broomsticks.