Harry Potter and the Heir of Slytherin

Harry's birthday came a couple of days after his arrival at Mrs. Figg's. She even baked him a little cake, and although it didn't taste very good, he appreciated it a great deal. Despite the fact that he had never given Ron a proper list--or possibly because of it--Ron sent Harry his very own copy of Quidditch Through the Ages. Hermione sent a very nice padded carrying case for Harry's Firebolt, and Hagrid sent an assortment of miniature models of dragons--one model for each species. But the owl Harry was most anxious to receive came from Sirius.

Harry had heard nothing from Sirius since that night last term when he had left Harry in the hospital wing. He tore the envelope open eagerly. Sirius wrote:

Harry--

I'm sorry I haven't written before now, but I'm trying to lie low. I'm safe, so don't worry about me. I'm staying with someone, and I can't write too often. Everyone knows he was my friend, and I'm still a fugitive, so I can't be sending owls out very frequently or it will look suspicious. All the same, I wanted to wish you a happy birthday. I expect to see you very soon.

Sirius

P.S. RL sends his regards.

Tucked inside the note were ten galleons and a bar of chocolate wrapped in gold foil--Harry figured that must be from Professor Lupin. Harry pocketed the candy and galleons and folded the note. He was happy to know that Sirius was safe, but he wished that he could see him, or at least speak to him more often.

Harry and Mrs. Figg caught the early train to London on the morning of August 25. Excited as he was to see his friends and begin a new year at school, Harry was a bit sad to leave Mrs. Figg. She had taught him a great deal about wizard chess, and he had even shown her a thing or two about Exploding Snap. It had been nice to be able to do his schoolwork openly, and even ask questions about it, for a change.

As they walked through the passageway leading from the Leaky Cauldron into Diagon Alley, Mrs. Figg handed Harry a piece of parchment. "It wouldn't do to forget this, would it, dear?" she asked, smiling. She handed it to him, and he saw that it was his shopping list for school. "Arrived by owl a few days ago; I kept forgetting to give it to you. Good thing I kept it in my purse or we might not have had it to do your shopping with!"

They walked to Gringotts bank, where a Harry withdrew a bagful of Galleons from his vault. He looked at his list. "Guess we ought to get to Flourish and -- hang on," he glanced up at Mrs. Figg with a puzzled look. It says here that I'll need," he read from the list, "'One set of workout robes, grey; running shoes and socks.'" He looked back up at Mrs. Figg. "What's that about? We've never taken any kind of gym class before at Hogwarts!"

Mrs. Figg returned his bewildered look. "I'm sure I don't know," she said. A sudden thought hit her. "Harry--do you know who your Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher is this year?"

"No," he replied. "Why?"

"Hmmm, I wonder ... Well, I don't know either, but I'm guessing that's the teacher who put those items on your list." She peered over the top of the parchment in Harry's hand. "Come on, let's ask Madam Malkin if she can help us."

Madam Malkin's Robes For All Occasions was very busy. "Exercise clothes! Sneakers, for crying out loud! Is this a wizard clothing shop or a Muggle department store?!" a harried Madam Malkin exclaimed when they showed her Harry's list. "There," she said, and pointed them toward what appeared to be a regular cardboard box full of running shoes and socks.

"Not very helpful today, is she? That's alright, we can find them ourselves," Mrs. Figg said as she began digging through the pile. After fifteen minutes of rummaging through shoes and sorting through stacks of plain grey cotton robes, Harry and Mrs. Figg had found everything they needed. They paid a cashier and wandered over to Miniver Morris's Gift Shoppe next door.

"Percy and Penelope are registered here, you know," said Mrs. Figg. Harry turned toward her with a start; he needed to buy them a wedding gift! Mrs. Figg noticed his apprehension, and patted his hand. "Don't worry, dear, I'll help you."

In the end, Mr. Morris persuaded Mrs. Figg to buy a small but very expensive porcelain cauldron ("Self-stirring! Miss Clearwater has splendid taste"), and Harry purchased a very pretty vase that kept any plant it held alive indefinitely. They paid for their gifts, which Mr. Morris wrapped for them, and headed for Flourish and Blotts.

There they found Ginny, Ron, Hermione, and Mrs. Weasley in the Transfiguration aisle. "Harry!," Ron exclaimed. He was grinning from ear to ear. "Listen," he whispered instantly, "Fred and George have gone off to Knockturn Alley and I owed them a favor, so I said I'd distract Mum for them," he whispered. "Don't say anything, okay?"

Harry barely had time to nod when Hermione turned around. "Harry!" she exclaimed as she hugged him. "How are you? Fred and George will be so ... Hey! Where are Fred and George?" Ron groaned and rolled his eyes. Mrs. Weasley looked up from the stack of books labeled A Standard Book of Spells, Grade Five.

"Good lord, where are they?" Mrs. Weasley cried. "Oh, hello Harry dear. Hello Arabella," she smiled distractedly. "I'm sorry, but I've got to find those two. If they've gone off to buy more Whizzing Fizzbies ..."

"Don't worry, Molly, I'll find them," Mrs. Figg reassured her. "If you'll just hold this parcel for me. Excuse me, children." She hurried out of the store. Mrs. Weasley looked relieved.

"So you know Mrs. Figg?" Harry asked.

"Arabella? Oh yes, for years. Rather well-known around the Ministry, of course. I reckon she's been an Auror for going on a hundred years now."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione busied themselves collecting their schoolbooks for the new year. As they left Flourish and Blotts, Mrs. Figg strode toward them with two identical boys in tow. She was grasping Fred by his right ear and George by his left, and they wore looks that exhibited a combination of embarrassment and pain.

"Molly, I'm sorry to have to tell you this," Mrs. Figg began. "But I caught them just as they were leaving Knockturn Alley. Managed to confiscate these from them."

She let go of their ears, reached into her pocket, and pulled out a handful of what looked like tiny, bright red balls.

"Salamander eyes!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed.

"We wouldn't have gone there if we didn't have to, but we needed salamander eyes especially," George whined.

"What on earth for?" Mrs. Weasley queried threateningly.

"Special ... wedding surprise for Perce," Fred grinned.

"I'll give YOU a surprise!"

"Ow! Mum, stop!" She grabbed them both by their necks and steered them back toward the Leaky Cauldron. Mrs. Figg took Harry aside.

"It's time for you to go back with the Weasleys now. Have a good time, dear."

"Mrs. Figg ... I just want ... well, I wanted to ..." Harry stammered. "Thank you."

She smiled and gave him a hug. "You can thank me by being good for the Weasleys. Now, you've got your backpack. Tonight Arthur will come by my house and pick up your trunk. And I'll see you on the twenty-ninth. After that, don't you worry about the Dursleys; when they get back, I'll make sure they understand you've got off to school safely."

Harry was just about to explain that he didn't think his safety would be foremost on the Dursleys' minds when they returned, but Ron called to him.

"Oi! Harry! Are you coming or not?"

Harry waved at Mrs. Figg and said a quick goodbye.

***

Harry stepped out of the Weasleys' fireplace, rubbing his elbow. Hermione, who had just stepped out herself, turned and looked at him. "Well, you're supposed to keep your elbows IN, aren't you?"

"Thanks. A lot. You couldn't have reminded me BEFORE we left?"

"I am at my wits' end with the two of you! Running off down Knockturn Alley after I've explicitly told you not to ... spending your time thinking up practical jokes instead of finishing your schoolwork ... oh, don't you roll your eyes at me, Fred Weasley!"

"Hello, Molly dear," Mr. Weasley spoke with a note of apprehension as he climbed the stairs from the basement.

"Arthur, would you please do something with these boys of yours ... I've got to get dinner ready!" Red-faced, she stormed into the kitchen.

"Wow, she's really mad," Harry whispered to Ron.

"Yeah, she's been kind of on-edge ever since ... You-Know-Who came back. I guess she was afraid something might happen. 'Specially down Knockturn Alley."

"Come on, boys, I'm scouring out the Bundimuns in the basement. You two can help me."

The twins groaned but followed their father, and Mrs. Weasley busied herself in the kitchen, setting pots on the stove. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny walked up the stairs to Ron's room.

"It's alright if Ginny stays, isn't it?" Hermione asked as they entered. "I mean, she knows everything now. Your parents told you what happened at the end of last term, didn't they?"

Ginny nodded. "But nothing has happened since then."

Harry had been waiting all day to ask for the latest news about Voldemort. "So, no one has seen or heard anything about him? Or any Death Eaters?"

"No," Ron said, shaking his head. "Dad's been alerting everyone he can, and trying to gather information. But there's nothing." Ron lowered his voice. "Percy doesn't believe it, you know. I've heard him and Dad arguing loads of times. But I think as long as Fudge denies that You-Know-Who is back, Percy will too. He looks up to Fudge almost as much as he did Mr. Crouch."

They all sat in silence for a few minutes. Harry was puzzled. Voldemort was now more powerful than he had been in fourteen years. What could he be waiting for? "Does anyone know what he's planning?"

"That's the question everyone is asking ... well, everyone who knows the truth. But no one has so much as a clue," Hermione spoke quietly. Her ginger cat, Crookshanks had been sunning himself under the window. He walked over and rubbed against her ankles.

"What do you say, Crookshanks?" she cooed. "Do you know anything?" But the cat just purred and closed his eyes.

"Well, he's not talking," Ron leaned back on his bed and stared at the ceiling. "Guess we'll just have to wait and see."

***

Percy, Charlie, and Bill returned to the Burrow just in time for dinner. Percy looked pale, and was clearly agitated.

"But I didn't KNOW I was supposed to buy her a gift!" he wailed, flopping down on the oversized couch. Charlie and Bill exchanged glances and chuckled.

"Mum, we must have walked through every Muggle and wizard shop in London. He didn't find anything that he liked." Bill sat down opposite Percy, clearly drained.

"Well, he's got a few days yet, hasn't he? Never mind that now, your father's just set the table. It's time to eat!"

Their dinner in the garden was much like the one they'd had the summer before. They sat in the same chairs, at the same tables, and looked around at the same faces. And that comforted them; even though Voldemort's return was in the back of everyone's mind, no one brought it up.

"Anyway, about that favor, Ron," George said as he jabbed Ron in the ribs, nearly causing him to spill his pumpkin juice. "I'm thinking you can polish my broomstick for me before school starts."

"Yeah, mine too," added Fred.

"What's this about? Why do you owe them a favor, Ron?" Hermione asked.

"They bought me new dress robes, and haven't let me forget it yet," said Ron miserably. "I'd almost rather wear that lacy--thing from last year than deal with these two and their 'favors'."

Fred looked across the table at Harry with raised eyebrows, and put his finger to his lips to signal him to keep quiet. They both knew that the money for the robes had come from Harry, and it wasn't quite fair for the twins to make Ron repay them. But Harry also knew that Ron was proud, and he'd much rather perform any number of chores for Fred and George than accept anything for free, even from family.

Snatches of conversation drifted from the other end of the table.

"Well, I reckon Charlie enjoyed the engagement party," Bill said, laughing. Fred, George, Ron, and Ginny laughed too.

"I thought she was nice, dear," said Mrs. Weasley, causing the Weasley children--except Percy and Charlie--to explode into laughter yet again. Charlie turned bright red.

Percy looked around the table condescendingly. "Charlie could do a lot worse than Persephone Green, that's for certain," he chided the giggling crowd.

"Charlie has a crush on her," Ginny whispered.

"Green?" Hermione repeated, puzzled. "Penelope's sister's last name is Green? But I thought she was a Clearwater."

"Oh, she is, dear," Mrs. Weasley answered, "but she got married a year or so out of school. Green was his name ... Demetrius Green. But, well, he died. Oh, I remember that so well, don't you, dear? It was so sad," she said to Mr. Weasley.

He nodded. "How could I forget? It was ... horrible. No other word for it." By now everyone had stopped laughing and given their full attention to Mr. Weasley.

"I think I remember that," Bill responded. "Wasn't he an Envoy, or something?"

Harry swallowed a particularly large bite of baked potato. "A what?" he asked.

"An Envoy," answered Hermione. "You know. They're a bit like Muggle charity workers, or--what do they call them?- missionaries."

"Hermione's right," Mr. Weasley added. "There are wizards who believe that they've been given a great deal of responsibility along with their magical power. They spend their lives using magic to help Muggles--covertly, under the Ministry's supervision, of course. Most Muggles don't even know when they've been helped by an Envoy. They work in hospitals, fire stations, social services ... I even considered becoming one, once ..."

"But what about Green?" Ron interrupted, impatient to hear the full story. "That Demetrius Green, what happened to him?"

Mr. Weasley became quiet, and for the first time, Harry saw in his eyes the same sad weariness that he'd seen so often in Sirius.

"It was in the days of You-Know-Who's rise to power. The Ministry was doing its best to track the Death Eaters ... but it wasn't good enough. It couldn't keep up with them all. I got a call one evening about an attack at a Muggle hospital. An Envoy dead, along with the three Muggles he'd been treating as patients. The place was swarming with Aurors by the time I got there, but the two Death Eaters had gotten away already. I was called in because they had charmed several Muggle medical implements to attack the Ministry officials who had come to help--very dangerous." He shook his head sadly. "The most shocking thing was, it was a targeted attack. Those Death Eaters could have killed a hundred Muggles at that hospital, but they went after Green especially."

"What on earth for?" Hermione asked.

Mr. Weasley looked across the table at her. "Because Death Eaters hated Envoys. They were exact opposites, you understand: the Death Eaters lived to destroy Muggles; the Envoys lived to help them. You-Know-Who's followers thought that Envoys were the foulest creatures alive because they were wizards who gave their lives in service to Muggles. Considered them a disgrace. Would have gotten rid of them all, if they could."

"So sad," Mrs. Weasley murmured. "I remember seeing Persephone at the funeral--we went to pay our respects, you know. Lots of people wouldn't, they were afraid to be seen there by Dark wizards. But someone had to go, besides the Greens. And that poor girl! How old was she then, Arthur? Twenty-one?"

"Twenty, I think," he replied.

"Twenty years old and a widow," Charlie whispered incredulously.

Everyone sat around the table in silence. Their conversation had taken an unexpected and unpleasant turn, but now that their minds were on Voldemort and the Death Eaters, they could think of little else. Each of them--except Percy, who continued eating in silence- was wondering the same thing: could they expect to see more of the violence that had touched the lives of the Greens, and so many others, fourteen years ago?

***

The next three days at the Burrow went by in a blur of pick-up Quidditch, wizard chess, and card games. Harry hadn't realized how much he'd missed Ron and Hermione over the summer, and was glad that he had plenty of time to spend with them now that he'd finished his schoolwork. Ron and Hermione had finished theirs, too, and Hermione had since grown quite interested in Mrs. Weasley's copy of Madame Pringle's Guide to Wizard Etiquette.

"The chapter on weddings is fascinating!" She told them one night while Ron tried to teach Harry an Egyptian card game he'd just learned from Bill. "Now, it says here that wedding ceremonies for wizards and Muggles are similar, but their receptions are much different. 'In a wizard wedding, the wedding cake, which is traditionally colored violet and often charmed to sing, is eaten before the main meal.'"

"Dessert before dinner! Someone finally got it right," called Fred, ascending the staircase from the basement. He and George had spent the past three days helping their father scour the Bundimuns out of the basement as punishment for their adventure in Knockturn Alley. They entered the living room, threw themselves down on a couch, and took off their gloves.

Harry mused for a moment, which caused him to lose his hand to Ron. "Hermione," he said after Ron collected the cards and held the deck out on his palm, allowing it to shuffle itself, "Mrs. Figg told me that wizards wear dress robes to weddings. Does it say anything about that in your book?"

"Oh yes. It says dress robes are the conventional attire."

Harry paused. "Well, in those wedding pictures of my parents that Hagrid gave me, everyone is wearing Muggle clothes--my father and Sirius Black are wearing tuxedos, and my mother has on a white gown."

Hermione thought for a moment. "Well, your mother was Muggle born, wasn't she? She had probably dreamt of a Muggle wedding ever since she was a little girl."

Ron snickered. "Girls. Do you mean to tell me that you actually spend your free time 'dreaming of your wedding'?" He took on a high-pitched tone, clasped his hands together under his chin, and turned his eyes upward in mockery. "Tell me, do your daydreams involve that dreamy Gilderoy Lockhart?" He, Fred, George, and Harry laughed. Hermione turned pink.

"Ron, just because some boys don't think about what's going to happen five minutes into the future doesn't mean that no one does. Some of us actually give some thought to our futures!" she fumed.

"That reminds me," George blurted. He jabbed Fred in the ribs. Fred nodded and they climbed the stairs to their room.

"Wonder what they're up to?" Hermione said.

Ron sighed. "It's Fred and George. Same thing they're always up to--planning a gag that will turn Mum's hair gray."

***

Harry and Hermione were invited to attend the wedding rehearsal with the Weasleys on the evening of August 28. Much to Harry's dismay, they were to travel to the Clearwaters' house in Norwich by Floo powder.

"Now Harry," said Mr. Weasley after everyone but the two of them had stepped into the fireplace, "Remember, just step into the flames, say 'Clear Lake Manor', and hold your elbows in." He gave Harry a reassuring pat on the back. Harry apprehensively did as he was told, and was quite surprised to land on his feet, uninjured, in the Clearwaters' fireplace a few seconds later.

As he stepped out, he surveyed the room. A crowd of at least twenty people had already gathered in the large parlor where he now stood. The Clearwaters' house, which Harry figured must be very large indeed, was evidently an old place, and very fine: the floors were made of pure marble, and oil portraits of venerable-looking witches and wizards hung on the walls. The subjects of the paintings all sat alert and dignified, as though they had been told to be on their best behavior for the occasion.

A tall, rather bald man with a kind face walked toward Harry, but his gaze was fixed behind him at Mr. Weasley, who had apparently just emerged from the fireplace.

"Arthur! It's wonderful to see you again. Welcome!"

"Thank you, Robert," Mr. Weasley responded, brushing the soot off his robes. He shot Harry a look that showed his approval at Harry's performance with the Floo powder and winked at him before continuing. "We're all very happy to be here. Robert, I think Percy mentioned that we would be bringing a couple of guests ..."

"Harry Potter," the man called Robert spoke softly as he noticed Harry for the first time. His eyes did the all-too-familiar flicker up to the scar on Harry's forehead. "Welcome, Harry! It's very nice to meet you."

"Very nice to meet you, too," Harry replied, trying to sound as polite as possible.

"And this is Hermione Granger, another friend of Ron's from school." Hermione had been standing on the other side of Harry, as she had come out of the fireplace just ahead of him. Mr. Weasley pointed to the bald man. "Harry, Hermione, this is Mr. Robert Clearwater."

Mr. Clearwater waved his hand dismissively. "Just call me Robert," he said as he reached out and shook Hermione's hand.

"Mr. Clearwater--er, Robert--is on the board of trustees of Gringotts bank," Mr. Weasley explained. Harry and Hermione nodded.

"Oh, Arthur, let's not bore the kids talking about work," Mr. Clearwater chuckled. "Come on in and meet everyone. Everyone, this is Harry and Hermione," he spoke to the crowd. Several faces looked over, and some waved and smiled. Penelope and Percy made their way through the crowd. Percy shook Harry's hand.

"It's very good to see you, Harry," he said stiffly. He leaned over and whispered in Harry's ear. "Really, I'm so glad you could make it ... when Ron told me you'd declined ... well, everyone was hoping to meet you ... I was so glad when you wrote back and said you'd come." Harry just smiled and nodded awkwardly.

Penelope had walked over and hugged Hermione, apparently to Hermione's surprise. "And it's good to see you again!" she cried. "You know, I just realized I never did thank you ... the basilisk, in my sixth year, that business with the mirror ... I reckon you saved my life."

Hermione looked genuinely moved. "Well, I ... it was nothing, really." She blushed.

"Come on, let's introduce you around," said Percy, putting his arm around Harry's shoulder and steering him into the crowd. Penelope and Hermione followed. They exchanged introductions and pleasantries with at least a dozen people, none of whom Harry could remember half an hour later as he and Hermione sat, along with a few of the Clearwaters' guests who also weren't in the wedding, in chairs that had been set up in the garden. The watched as the Weasleys and Clearwaters rehearsed the wedding ceremony.

"Oh, this will be so enlightening!," Hermione enthused. "Just think of all the wizarding customs and traditions we'll be exposed to."

Harry was too hungry to think about being exposed to anything but a plateful of food. He watched the wedding party take their places at the far end of the garden. On Percy's right was Bill, the best man ("Apparently Percy has always sort of idolized Bill," Ron had told Harry). To his right were Charlie, Fred, George, and Ron. On Penelope's left stood a brunette who Harry hadn't met, two familiar looking Ravenclaw girls from Penelope's year, and Ginny.

"Who's the one standing next to Penelope?" Harry asked.

Hermione looked over at the bridesmaids. "Must be that Persephone Green, eh? Hmm ... Doesn't look much like an Auror, does she?"

Harry nodded. Judging from the way the Weasleys had teased Charlie, he had expected a female version of Mad-Eye Moody, complete with scars and missing pieces. But Persephone Green looked entirely normal--attractive even. Her hair wasn't curly like Penelope's; instead, it fell in long, dark waves down her back. She was smiling at her sister, but she had sort of a sad smile. Her green eyes twinkled familiarly. She reminded Harry of someone, but he couldn't say who.

"Does she remind you of anyone?" he asked Hermione.

She frowned. "Yeah, now that you say it, she does. Not quite sure who, though." Harry and Hermione spent the rest of the rehearsal wracking their brains trying to place Persephone, but an hour later they found themselves seated inside at the dinner table, with no more idea who she resembled than they'd had at first.

Harry and Hermione were seated at the long table next to Ron and across from Persephone, Penelope, Percy, and Bill. House-elves walked in humbly, bowing and bearing plate after plate of food. Mrs. Weasley looked impressed, but Hermione merely grunted her disapproval. Persephone Green looked across the table and smiled.

"I don't think I've met you yet," she said. "You must be Hermione Granger? And you," she said, turning to Harry with a blank look, "I don't think I got your name ...?" She trailed off, as though she had no idea who he was.

"Uh, my name's Har--" Finally Persephone broke down and laughed at his astonished look. Harry laughed, too.

"Sorry, I couldn't resist. I'll bet you don't get that much, do you?" she chuckled. "My name is Persephone Green." She reached across the table and shook both their hands. A look flashed across her face that reminded Harry almost painfully of that person he and Hermione couldn't quite recall. He tried hard to remember.

"Ah, you're trying to place me. Well, I don't think we've met before. Although I reckon you know my grandfather, Albus Dumbledore." Then it hit Harry: that was it! Her eyes twinkled just like Dumbledore's.

Hermione was taken aback. "How did you know we were trying to place you? And Professor Dumbledore is your grandfather?"

"Yes," Persephone responded. "He's my mother's father. But I'm afraid she isn't with us any longer." She paused for a second, then took a rather large helping of green beans.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Harry interjected. Persephone took a drink from her wineglass and shook her head.

"No, no, it happened a very long time ago. You see that woman down there--" she gestured toward the other end of the table, "sitting next to my father?" Harry and Hermione noted the pleasant-looking curly-haired woman. "She's my stepmother, and Penelope's Mum."

"Stop, Persephone, you'll confuse them," laughed Penelope.

Ron leaned over to Harry and Hermione. "Did you know Dumbledore ever had a family?" They both shook their heads. But something else was puzzling Hermione.

"Miss Green ... just now, you said we were trying to place you. How did you know that?"

Percy caught this and puffed out his chest proudly. "Well, I told you Persephone's an Auror. But, I mean to say, she's not just any Auror ... She's a Summoner!" Clearly he was overjoyed to be marrying into a family distinguished enough to contain a Summoner, whatever that meant.

Harry figured that he was supposed to be impressed. He tried to recall whether he had ever heard the term used before. Persephone laughed again.

"You poor thing, we are confusing you, aren't we? Never mind, Percy."

But Percy wouldn't be put off. "Harry," he expounded authoritatively, "a Summoner is a particular type of Auror. You know that Aurors catch Dark wizards. Well, a Summoner catches Dark wizards specifically for the purpose of turning them back from the Dark Side. Very dangerous job, and very prestigious. The Ministry currently employs forty-two Aurors, and only three are Summoners."

"But how? I mean, how do they turn wizards back from the Dark side?" asked Ginny, from down the table. Everyone appeared to be listening.

Percy was in his element now. Persephone looked at him, amused. "Go on, Percy, tell her."

"Well," he began, "Summoners are appointed based on their talent for reading other people's attitudes and emotions. Not their minds, you understand--mind-reading has been considered a Dark Art since the Warlocks' Convention of 1289." He took a deep breath. "After being appointed, a Summoner is assigned a veteran Summoner as a mentor, and then trained by the mentor to sharpen that talent for 'reading' people. Summoners use this ability to identify Dark wizards, especially Dark wizards who they think are likely to abandon their Dark ways with a little prompting."

"Very good, Percy," Persephone responded.

Hermione was intrigued. "So you can read people's emotions?"

Persephone turned toward her. "Yes. It was difficult at first, but now I've been doing it so long that it's second nature ... So you understand why, when you were trying to remember who I reminded you of, I sensed your confusion and frustration. I hate that feeling of having something on the tip of my tongue!"

Hermione looked thoughtful. Everyone else around the table started conversing again, Percy's little display being at an end.

"You're not quite comfortable being 'read', understood," Persephone said quietly. "Listen, I apologize, and if you don't want me to, I'll try my best not to do it again. But look!" she laughed, "I'm doing it again. You see how difficult it is for me to stop."

Hermione laughed forgivingly in response. "It's alright. I'm just not used to it, you know."

"Tell me, what year are you three?" Persephone asked. They told her they were about to begin their fifth year at Hogwarts. She continued asking them questions about school, and they filled her in on some of their adventures over the past four years--though they left out the part about last term and Voldemort's return to power. A thought suddenly struck Harry.

"You're Professor Dumbledore's granddaughter. He must have told you ... I mean, I reckon your family must all know ..."

Persephone understood what he was getting at. "Yes. I received a very interesting owl from my grandfather last summer. Very interesting." She looked grave and spoke lowly. "My parents and sister know, though Penny has her doubts. And I've been getting word to all the Aurors, but it isn't easy, not with Fudge on the alert. He's been saying he won't put up with 'any of these crazy rumors started by Dumbledore'. I tell you, it's very difficult to work for someone like that. But most of the Aurors do believe my grandfather. As a group, they respect him very much and value his opinion. Not to mention the opinions of Alastor Moody and Arabella Figg."

"Oh! How is Professor Moody?" Hermione asked.

"He's good." Persephone smiled wryly. "Though I must say he has gotten a bit more paranoid, if that were possible. But who can blame him, after his ordeal last year?" She paused. "I'll be honest with you kids. I'm concerned. I don't know what's coming, but I don't think it will be good, and I don't think it will be easy. We've all got to be watching."