Harry Potter and the Heir of Slytherin

"HOW ... COULD ... YOU?!"

Harry had never seen Snape speechless before. Yet as he and Neville watched, Snape stared at Professor Green, mute with horror, a vivid red welt now visible across the left side of his sallow face.

"Y--You don't understand--"

"I understand completely." Professor Green spoke in a deadly whisper. "How could you say those things--those horrible things!--to these boys?"

"I--I--" Harry was amazed. Snape never stuttered.

"Harry's parents were killed by the most powerful Dark wizard in the world, through no fault of their own! And Neville! He should be so lucky to grow up to be like his father. I'll have you know that Frank Longbottom was as good an Auror as I ever met in all my time at the Ministry.

"I was just--they--" Snape sputtered incoherently.

"Yet here you stand, insulting these ... CHILDREN--"

Harry bristled at being called a child, but he wouldn't dare correct Professor Green just now.

"--who've lost their parents to Dark wizards. My God!" She began to laugh bitterly. "Surely you see the irony here. Tell me, where were you, Professor, during those long years when Longbottom worked to keep the Dark Lord and his followers from taking over?" She began to laugh even louder.

"Where were you? Oh," she said with feigned sympathy, "but you don't feel much like talking now, do you? Interesting." The rest of Snape's face had reddened to hide the welt that Professor Green had given him, and his expression of shock had given way to one of combined fear and anger. Still, he kept silent.

Suddenly Professor Green's manner changed entirely. She addressed Snape gravely, with no hint of sarcasm. "The thing I can't figure is, how you can stand it. I mean, you're capable of so much more than this. I know you." She paused, glancing down at Harry and Neville. "Yet you've allowed yourself to become this small, wretched person who derives pleasure from making children cry. I don't understand--I don't know how you can stand it--"

This was too much for Snape, who looked as though steam might pour out of his ears at any moment. He interrupted her, in a very low, even tone. "At least I'm not in love with a ghost."

Professor Green actually took a step backward, as though Snape had tried to strike her. For a split second, she looked shocked and hurt, but then--so quickly that Harry had to question whether her first reaction had even been real--she composed herself. She narrowed her eyes and grinned.

"Are you quite sure about that?"

Now it was Snape's turn to look taken aback. His eyes moved involuntarily down to Harry, then back to up Professor Green. She laughed. Snape, however, was not amused.

"What is that supposed to m--"

"You know quite well what it means," she interrupted calmly. "Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to speak to my students in my office. I think it's time that Neville met his parents." Harry tried to shoot Neville a questioning look, but Neville was staring at Professor Green open mouthed.

She walked over to them and placed one hand on each boy's shoulder. Suddenly, she stopped and turned back to Snape.

"Why don't you come along? It would give you a chance to properly understand what you've been taunting him about. Unless you'd rather not know what an ignorant clod you've been."

Snape's fists were clenched at his sides. Now he was the one trembling with rage. "I should think not. I have better things to do than hear about Longbottom's family history."

Professor Green glared at him for a few seconds. Finally, she whispered something Harry could barely make out, just one word.

"Coward."

She turned back toward Harry and Neville and ushered them down the corridor toward her office.

As they walked inside her office, Harry noticed that Sirius wasn't there. Professor Green shut the door and turned to Neville and Harry. "Now, I'm sure that you two missed dinner. I'll conjure us up some sandwiches, and then, Harry, I'll send you up to Gryffindor Tower. I'll take Neville up to the hospital wing myself, after I've showed him--"

But Harry wasn't hungry. He was curious to know what she was going to show Neville, but it looked as though she wasn't going to let him stay.

Neville shook his head and interrupted her. "Harry's my friend. I want him to stay."

For some reason, Harry felt a thrill of pride that Neville would want to include him in this. He smiled at Neville.

"And we're not hungry," Neville added, smiling back. "And my knee feels fine now, so I don't need to go up to the hospital wing after all. What is it that you wanted to show me?"

Professor Green smiled at them. "Neville, I have memories of your parents from before ... Before the attack ..."

Neville nodded gravely.

"I was thinking I might give you a look at your parents, as I remember them. But I'll let you decide--is that something you would like to see?"

Neville didn't have to think about this. "Yes," he answered instantly. "My parents. Yes. More than anything." He seemed to have trouble accepting that such a thing was possible, but he appeared very eager.

"And you're sure you want Harry to stay?"

Neville nodded again. "He can stay if he wants to."

"Alright, let's get to it. It's a difficult charm, not many people can do it, but I think I can manage it--"

Just then someone knocked briskly at the door. "Ah, yes," she said, "I nearly forgot." She crossed to the door, and as she opened it--before she could even see who was outside--she said, "Come in, Professor Snape."

If Snape was surprised that she was expecting him, he didn't show it. He stepped inside and began to speak resentfully, in the same tone that he used with Dumbledore when the headmaster disagreed with him. "Against my better judgment I have come, lest you conclude that I am afraid of--"

"Right then. Do come in and shut up." She closed the door behind him and crossed back to Harry and Neville.

"Now, you three," she said, gesturing at the wall to Harry's right, "stand against that wall. Yes, I think that will be the best way." They did as she directed. Snape moved reluctantly, and kept his arms crossed, but eventually he took his place against the wall, next to Harry. "Good, good," Professor Green said as she took out her wand.

"Are we ready?"

Neville nodded excitedly, Harry nodded a bit apprehensively, and Snape just grunted.

Professor Green placed the tip of her wand against her right temple and closed her eyes. "Memoriam referendum," she murmured.

Suddenly the room disappeared; it was pitch dark. A landscape began to appear all around them, emerging from the darkness as from a receding fog. Soon they were standing in a dense wood, on the edge of a clearing. A bright, nearly full moon shone brightly in the night sky. A chorus of crickets was chirping and, somewhere, an owl hooted.

Harry understood: they were standing inside Professor Green's memory. He had been taken into other people's memories before, but he hadn't realized that a charm existed that allowed a person to show her memories to others at will.

"Here we come," Professor Green whispered to them. She stood on Neville's other side; Harry assumed she had taken a spot against the wall, too, although he could no longer see it.

She was right, someone was coming. They could hear the footsteps of someone running through the forest and, a second later, a man crashed through a shrub to their left, at the edge of the clearing.

The man was short, with shoulder-length brownish-blond hair and a bald spot on the top of his head. He wore a tattered robe, and he appeared to be in his early thirties, though it was difficult to tell on account of the dirt, leaves, and scratches covering his face. The man stumbled into the middle of the clearing, clutching his chest and breathing heavily.

A second figure then crashed through the edge of the clearing, breaking through the same shrub from which the man had just emerged. The man looked behind him, turned, and made a break for the woods on the clearing's other side.

"Stupefy!" the second figure called, pointing her wand--for it was a she--at the man. He fell to the ground facedown, just at the edge of the woods.

The woman looked around the clearing and walked over to the stunned man. Harry saw that she wore a long black cloak and black shoes that reminded him of Muggle hiking boots. She knelt, lit her wand, and surveyed the man. Then she looked up again, as though she were listening for something. In the moonlight Harry recognized the woman's features--it was Professor Green.

But she looked different. Younger. Her face wasn't as lined, and she had no scar running down the left side of her neck.

"Fisher!" she called. "Over here!"

Harry heard a popping noise and another figure suddenly appeared in the center of the clearing. He was a tall, blond man, a few years older than this younger Persephone Green, and dressed just like her. He walked over to her.

"Stunned?"

"Yeah." The younger Green stood up. "Help me drag him to the middle, will you?"

"What, you're going to do it here?"

"Yeah. Why not? Have you seen any of the others?"

Fisher looked around the clearing, just as Green had done after Stunning the first man. "No. But don't you think it would be safer to do it back at the Ministry?"

"I'd rather not take any chances. We can't Apparate with him, of course. You know the Portkey takes us to a spot about a mile away from the Ministry offices, for security, so even if we used that we'd have to carry him the rest of the way. And even if we had help ... Fisher, I think it's safer to just do it here. If he gets loose again, they're likely to kill him."

The man thought about this for a few seconds, then nodded slowly. "Alright. Just let me take a look around and secure the area."

He walked back into the woods, and in his absence Green grabbed the Stunned man's hands and began to pull him to the center of the clearing. By the time she had finished, Fisher had returned.

"Everything looks fine. I'm going to take up a position a few yards back, where I can hear anyone coming, and I'm going to watch. Alright?"

She nodded, and Fisher left the clearing again. Green stood and regarded the Stunned man for a moment.

"Mundungus Fletcher," she murmured.

She reached into her cloak and drew out a small black velvet pouch. From within it she pulled out a handful of what appeared to be dust. Holding the pouch and her wand in her left hand, she began to sprinkle the dust on the ground as she walked in a wide circle around Mundungus Fletcher.

"Imperius Curse," the real Professor Green whispered. Harry jumped; he had become so involved in watching the memory that he had forgotten the other watchers in the room.

She continued to explain. "Fletcher was a low-level clerk working at the Ministry, and I suspected that the Death Eaters had put him under the Imperius Curse in order to get him to pass information to them."

"What are you doing?" Neville asked, fascinated.

She looked down at Harry and Neville. "You two--three--" she added, remembering Snape, "are going to witness something that very few wizards ever see. This is a Summoning."

Neville gasped. "We're going to see a Summoning?"

She nodded, grinning excitedly. But apparently she could read Harry's confusion even in the darkness. "Harry, the Summoning is the process by which a Dark wizard is forced to choose his destiny. It's like having all the good and evil things you ever did laid out before you, and being forced to choose which version of yourself you want to be--the good one, or the evil one. There are no other options.

"That's phoenix ash," she added, nodding at her younger self, who had almost finished sprinkling the dust-like substance in a circle around the prostrate Fletcher.

"Fletcher was a Dark wizard?" Harry asked.

Professor Green shook her head. "No. The Summoning is also useful for bringing a person out from under the Imperius Curse. You see, it lets them choose. It gives them their will back, in a sense. Shhh! It's about to start."

The younger Green had returned to the spot where she had started the circle. She closed the small pouch and put it back inside her cloak. Then she pointed her wand at Fletcher and shouted, "Enervate!"

He awoke, dazed, and looked around, not seeming to register where he was or what was happening. Green glanced around one last time to make sure no one was coming, took a deep breath, pointed her wand at Fletcher, and began to incant.

"Accio animus zamius, optare bonum, an optare pernicies ..." It was a very long incantation, and Harry couldn't make out all the words, but the younger Green seemed to know them all by heart. As she spoke, she kept her wand pointed straight at Mundungus Fletcher and paced around the circle. After a moment, Fletcher seemed to realize what was happening. He stood up angrily and began to shout.

"Stop! He's mine! You can't do this!" He walked to the edge of the circle, and appeared to contemplate crossing it.

Green ignored him. She finished the incantation just as she returned to the spot from which she started. Then, as soon as she stopped speaking, crimson flames sprang up from the phoenix ash scattered around the clearing. Fletcher sprang back from the flames and into the center of the circle. He glanced angrily at Green and let out a piercing shriek.

"NO!"

The flames grew very tall--taller than either of the figures standing in the clearing--and began to twist sideways, forming a kind of fiery vortex. It reminded Harry of pictures of tornadoes that he'd seen in books, except that the tornado was bright red and upside-down. And at its tip, about ten feet in the air, was Mundungus Fletcher.

Harry would have had a difficult time describing what he now saw happening to Fletcher. And if he had never seen it, and had only heard about it from someone else, he doubted he would have been able to imagine it. Fletcher was levitating motionless at the tip of this vortex. He wasn't spinning, though Harry thought at first that he was--he was stationary. But it was as though a Fletcher-shaped hole had been cut in space, so that you could see things flying past the hole in some other dimension. What those things were, Harry couldn't make out, except that some appeared very bright, and some very dark, and the rest must have occupied every possible place on the spectrum in between.

At first the alternating pieces of light and dark flew by very quickly, but after a few minutes they began to slow down, until eventually the brighter ones outnumbered the dark ones. Finally a blinding light shone from the Fletcher-shaped hole in the universe. The fire shrunk down to the height of a candle flame, and Fletcher fell onto his hands and knees in the grass.

Just at that moment, another man Apparated into the clearing, behind Green. It wasn't Fisher--this man wasn't wearing the Aurors' black cloak and boots. Instead, he wore a regular brown wizard's robe. As he pulled a wand out of his left sleeve, Harry could see a black mark on his left forearm.

Persephone Green hadn't noticed the man who Apparated behind her; instead, she seemed transfixed by the sight of Fletcher. Harry wanted to shout out to warn Green, but he caught himself at the last second, remembering that this was only a memory. As he watched, the man pointed his wand at Green's back.

Suddenly Green stiffened, alert.

"Cruci--" Before the man could pronounce the curse, Green turned around to face him and kicked his wand out of his hand. She then pointed her own wand at the man.

"Mulciber, I presume?" she addressed him calmly. "Stupef--" But the man had learned by her example; he advanced on her and knocked the wand out of her hand before she could Stun him.

Green backed up, and stood, feet apart, hands up, in what Harry recognized as a fighting stance. She quickly pulled something out of a sheath on her belt--a small, golden dagger that gleamed in the moonlight.

***

Harry let out a satisfied chuckle. Mulciber was unarmed; Green was in her element now.

"You think I have the advantage." Professor Green's voice came from somewhere to his right, but Harry continued to watch the combatants in the clearing.

"He's unarmed," Neville observed.

"You don't need a wand to read somebody's mind. Look at his face. All I'm reading is his hostility. He's reading my every intention."

Harry surveyed Mulciber's face, or what he could see of it in the moonlight. Mulciber frowned with concentration, and his eyes were unmoving, fixed on the younger Green's face. They glittered with a sort of intelligent malice.

"Fletcher belongs to us. Give him back, you Mudblood-loving--" He called Green a very impolite name.

"Er, sorry." Professor Green whispered, grimacing. "Forgot about that."

The younger Green smiled and raised an eyebrow. "You might want to watch that language," she said to Mulciber. "Your life's in my hands now."

"The hell it is." Mulciber turned and bolted toward the edge of the woods, but before he got there, Green had grabbed him from behind by the collar of his robes.

She tripped him so that he fell facedown in the grass, and pushed his face into the ground with her left hand. As he struggled, she knelt down on his back, pushing her left knee hard into the back of his neck. "Now," she said to herself without the slightest hint of agitation, as though she were trying to remember where she had set her quill, "where is that Achilles tendon?"

Still holding Mulciber's struggling head to the ground with her left hand, she reached over his leg with her right hand--the hand holding the dagger. Just as she was about to slash at the back of his calf, Mulciber reached back with all his might and elbowed her in the ribs.

Green was stunned just long enough for Mulciber to roll over and push her off him. And at once he was on her, his hands around her neck. She jabbed at him several times with the dagger, but he anticipated the jabs, and dodged her every move. He began to laugh.

"Classic rookie mistake," Professor Green commented. "Thinking too hard, when I should have been acting on instinct. That's what throws them off."

But the younger Green clearly lacked the benefit of this understanding. She continued to jab and kick at Mulciber, and he continued to dodge every blow. Finally, he reached back and punched her across her face, as hard as he could.

Harry winced; beside him, he saw Neville do the same. He even thought he heard Snape make an odd gasping noise.

The hand holding the golden dagger went limp. Quickly, ruthlessly, Mulciber grabbed the dagger out of Green's hand and cut savagely at her throat.

This time Harry, Neville, and Snape all winced in unison. Blood was pouring freely from a deep gash running from just below Green's left ear to the middle of her throat. But she was still conscious--she reached weakly out toward Mulciber, and made a sickening gurgling sound that Harry supposed must have been an attempt at speech.

But now Mulciber ignored her. He stood up and dashed over to Fletcher, who was still on his hands and knees in the Summoning Circle, dazed and oblivious to the fight. Mulciber knelt down next to him.

"They'll be coming soon," he muttered. "And when they do, they can't find you alive. If I had time to do a Memory Charm, you would have lived." He shrugged. "Ah, well."

Just then the forest, the clearing, and the figures within it--the entire memory--began to fade from view. "Yes, this is where it gets a bit hazy," Professor Green explained. "On account of all the blood leaving my brain. But we should still be able to make out what happens next."

Harry could dimly see Mulciber reach back, preparing to plunge the dagger into Fletcher's side. But before he could finish the motion, a man's voice called out from the forest, to Harry's right.

"Stupefy!"

An incredibly well-aimed Stunning spell shot out from behind a tree and dropped Mulciber where he knelt. A man ran into the circle, wearing a black cloak and boots identical to the ones Fisher and Green wore. He glanced down at the dazed Fletcher and the unconscious Mulciber, and saw the golden dagger in Mulciber's hand. He reached down, grabbed it, and held it up in the moonlight. The luminous blade was obscured by what could only be blood.

"My God."

Because Green had gone quiet, he had to look around for a second before spotting her on the edge of the clearing opposite the one he'd just come from. He ran over to her.

"You'll be alright, Persephone," he murmured as he placed the edge of the blade to the gash in her neck. Quickly but carefully, very carefully, he ran the blade through the cut, from her throat to her ear. His motion was the same as the one Mulciber had used to cut her, but in reverse. As he drew the dagger through the gash, Harry could see that it healed Green's flesh, just as it had bound the parchment that night in her office. The man stuck the dagger into the ground. At once, Green sat up and drew a long, rattling breath. She turned over on her side and coughed loudly, spewing blood onto the grass.

"Come on, you're alright."

To Harry's right, Neville whispered in amazement. "Wow--Dad."

Suddenly the memory swung back into vivid focus. Frank Longbottom stood up, and the moon illuminated his features as he faced the watchers, unaware of their existence. Harry was very surprised to note that he was tall and thin, not stocky like Neville, though he did have Neville's brown eyes. At the moment (and curiously, to Harry), he was smiling.

"What's happened here?" A scarred face framed by black hair poked out from the trees on the right. There was no mistaking that face, or that voice. They belonged to Mad-Eye Moody.

"Looks like Green was right about Fletcher," Longbottom said, gesturing toward the two figures on the ground inside the circle of now cold phoenix ash. He didn't try to hide the smile in his voice.

"What the hell happened to her?" Moody asked, walking over to the spot where Longbottom stood. At his feet, Green was on her hands and knees, still sputtering.

"Mulciber got the dagger away from her. Cut her pretty badly, but she's alright. Did you find Fisher?"

Moody regarded Green, then looked up at Longbottom and nodded. "He's alright, just Stunned. Lucky. Could have killed him just as easily." He looked back down at Green, then knelt beside her.

"What were you thinking?" he barked suddenly. His tone was mercilessly harsh. Now I know where she learned it, Harry thought, remembering the way Professor Green had yelled at him during their five mile runs.

Green couldn't speak. She just breathed heavily, still woozy from loss of blood, and stared at the grass.

"I hope you have a good explanation for this, Green. Otherwise Johnson will have your hide."

"Alastor," Longbottom said softly. "Come on. Not now."

Moody stood up. "Alright, let's get them out of here. You take her, I'll get these two. We'll have to use the Portkey."

Longbottom put his arm around Green and helped her up. She stood unsteadily. He guided her toward the circle, where Moody was conjuring a stretcher for Mulciber. Suddenly, Longbottom lost his hold and Green collapsed to the ground again.

There she found herself face-to-face with Mundungus Fletcher, who was still on his hands and knees. He looked up and saw her face, dazed and covered with drying blood. A flash of recognition passed between them. They both smiled. Longbottom knelt to pick Green up again, but hesitated.

Very, very quietly, Fletcher whispered something to her. If it hadn't been Professor Green's memory, and Harry had really been standing in the clearing, he was sure he wouldn't have been able to hear it. But in fact the words were eerily audible to the watchers, though just barely. Harry heard them as though Fletcher were whispering right in his ear.

"Thank you."

The clearing receded from view completely and darkness once again enveloped the four watchers. But only for a second. Then a room appeared around them.

The room was lit. Not brightly, but its brightness was a stark enough contrast from the preceding darkness that it was a moment before Harry could see properly. Once his eyes had adjusted, he saw that they were standing in a room not unlike the courtroom he remembered from the Pensieve. There were no windows, the walls and floor were made of gray stone, and torches in brackets lined the walls--Harry turned around--all four of them. But this room was smaller than the courtroom, and there were no benches where an audience could sit.

The watchers stood with their backs to one of the walls, facing a very large fireplace on the opposite side of the room. Just before them stood a single long, wooden table surrounded by chairs. Above the table a few candles hovered in midair.

Two of the chairs on the watchers' side and at the right end of the table were occupied. Harry could see that the figure sitting farthest from him was Fisher, the young man from the clearing, and the nearer figure was the younger Professor Green. Her hair was matted with dirt, leaves, and blades of grass, and her black cloak was covered in something dark--it was difficult to tell what, but Harry figured it must be dried blood. Her face and hands were clean, as if she had just washed them, but the livid scar on her neck, having just scabbed over, was brutally conspicuous. Harry remembered the seamless mending of the parchment.

"They do that--scar, I mean--when anyone other than the person who created the wound closes it," Professor Green explained.

But that wasn't the only question on Harry's mind. "The Summoning," he began, "what h--"

"Shhh," she forestalled him. "Just wait a bit. After I've shown you these memories I'll answer all your questions about the Summoning. Right now I've got to concentrate on exactly what happened."

Harry nodded silently. A door to the left opened, and in walked Mad-Eye Moody--followed by Mrs. Figg.

"Who's she?" Neville asked.

"Mrs. Figg was my mentor. She was the retiring Summoner who appointed me as her replacement."

"But I don't understand, I thought my father was your mentor."

"He was." She spoke gently but quickly, as though in a hurry to end the explanations. "From the time I finished my training until Mrs. Figg decided to retire."

"Mrs. Figg was a Summoner, then," Harry said, more to himself than to anyone else.

Professor Green nodded. "For years and years. But about nine months after I finished Auror training she decided she wanted to retire in a few years--it takes years to train a replacement, you know--and she appointed me as her protégé. There was a lot of talk about that, I can tell you: I was only a rookie, and a Slytherin to boot! But quiet now! It's about to start."

Moody and Mrs. Figg had taken seats at the table opposite Green and Fisher. The four of them smiled politely at each other in greeting, though Harry noticed that Green's and Fisher's smiles seemed a bit forced, and they kept looking down at their hands. Suddenly, with a loud crackling noise, the flames in the fireplace surged and turned bright green. A woman stepped out of the flames and into the room. The four Aurors at the table stood.

"Glenda Johnson," Professor Green whispered. "She was Head Auror then."

Glenda Johnson was a very short black woman with gray shoulder length hair. She stood motionless as her quick brown eyes surveyed the four others with a kind of military efficiency. After a moment, she barked one word. An order.

"Sit."

The four took their seats again. Green and Fisher did not dare to look away from her steely gaze, but Fisher's hands were shaking in his lap.

Johnson spoke slowly, and enunciated every syllable with an almost painful precision. "Would anyone care to tell me what has just occurred?" It sounded more like a statement than a question.

Green cleared her throat. Her voice was hoarse and shaky, as though it were being used for the first time, but she spoke with conviction. "Fisher and I were watching Fletcher, just as we were ordered, and he attacked us, then fled. We pursued him--"

"Kindly skip to the part," Johnson cut in, "where a Summoner not quite two years out of Auror training, in an exposed environment and without the guidance or CONSENT--" her voice was slowly gaining volume now "- of her mentor proceeds to put her own life and that of her partner in JEOPARDY by performing one of the most COMPLICATED CHARMS KNOWN--"

"Please, ma'am," Fisher's voice trembled. "But I'm partly to blame. I let her do it."

"I WAS NOT ADDRESSING YOU, MISTER FISHER," the little witch bellowed, causing everyone in the room to flinch, including the watchers, "BUT I ASSURE YOU THAT YOU WILL HAVE YOUR CHANCE TO EXPLAIN!"

Fisher fell silent, cowed.

"Green," Johnson said in her former, quieter tone, "what were you thinking?"

Green returned her gaze. "Ma'am, I thought it would be the safest way. I wanted to get Fletcher out from under Mulciber's Imperius Curse as soon as possible."

"But why? You had him Stunned."

Green nodded. "Yes. But I didn't want to take any chances."

Johnson was shaking her head. "Green, you weren't thinking."

Surprisingly, Green seemed to be growing irritated at the line of questioning. "You don't understand. You don't know how long Mulciber had Fletcher under. I wanted to get him out. What if it were you? Wouldn't you want to be liberated sooner rather than later? Look, Fisher and I took all the precautions--"

"YOU DID NOT!" Johnson interrupted. "If you had, the Summoning
Charm would have been performed here--"

"--and we would not have Mulciber in custody!" Green's eyes flashed with anger. "With all due respect, Mrs. Johnson, I don't see the problem. Fletcher's alright, Fisher's alright, I'm alright--"

Johnson's eyes widened in disbelief and then, quite unexpectedly, she began to laugh. It was a cold laugh of surprise, not at all happy or pleased. "Green, you can't be serious. You don't see the problem, you say?" She stopped laughing just as suddenly as she had started. "Have you looked in a mirror lately? Green, you nearly lost your head."

Green clenched her fists at her sides, and the two women stared at each other angrily. Just then they heard a knock. Johnson, perturbed at the interruption, walked to the door and opened it.

She began conversing angrily with the person standing outside, who Harry couldn't see, but her voice soon quieted. Back at the table, Moody and Mrs. Figg exchanged surprised glances. Moody turned to Green.

"So that was your first Summoning, eh, Green?" He had difficulty suppressing a smile. Mrs. Figg was more successful at hiding hers, though it showed through her feigned solemnity for a split second.

Green nodded, smiling in return. Across the room, the door shut.

"Moody," Johnson said. Moody immediately stood up and walked over to her. Mrs. Figg and Green were paying very close attention to Johnson now, while Fisher continued to stare down at his trembling hands. Johnson whispered something to Moody that Harry could not hear, though he thought he discerned the words, "Get Longbottom." Moody left the room hurriedly.

Johnson made her way back to the others. "Fisher, you are dismissed," she told the young man tersely. He looked around as though convinced that his ears were playing tricks on him.

"GO!"

Fisher stood up so suddenly his chair fell over backwards, and walked out of the room as quickly as his legs would carry him. Green stood up as well.

"Mrs. Johnson, what's wrong?"

"Sit down, Green."

She remained standing. "Something's wrong. Tell me what's happened."

"Persephone," Johnson said very softly, with a warmth that Harry would not have thought her capable of. "Sit down."

Apparently Green was surprised at Johnson's tone too, because she sat very, very slowly, never taking her eyes off Johnson's face. Mrs. Figg watched intently, but patiently.

For the first time since she had entered the little room, Johnson sat down at the table, opposite Green. She took a deep breath and folded her hands in front of her. It was a moment before she spoke.

"Persephone." There was that tone again. It's more frightening than her shouting, Harry thought. Something's horribly wrong.

"It's Demetrius."

Mrs. Figg gasped and put her hand to her mouth. She reached out and grabbed Green's hand across the table.

"What?" Green asked, puzzled.

Johnson paused, thinking, then said, "I don't know any way to tell you this, other than to just say it. Persephone, he's gone. He's been killed."

Mrs. Figg looked down and tightened her grip on Green's hand. Green didn't move, but simply peered at Johnson curiously, as though she were speaking in a foreign language that Green didn't understand. Finally, she shook her head.

"No. That's not possible."

"I'm sorry, Persephone, I'm afraid it's true. A couple of Death Eaters found him at work. Half the department is there now."

"No." Green continued to shake her head, and a faraway smile settled on her lips. Her eyes were glazed, unseeing. She spoke calmly, as though she were correcting a child with a mistaken idea. "That can't be. There have been threats, but... Envoys are well-protected, their identities are kept secret. No Envoy has ever been attacked by a Death Eater. "

"Until now."

Green's expression did not change. "I just saw him this morning. Tomorrow's his birthday. We're having dinner with the Longbottoms tonight," she said, as though these facts made Demetrius' death impossible.

The door opened, and Frank Longbottom rushed into the room. He ran over and embraced Green, who then surveyed him with calm curiosity.

"Oh God, Persephone, they've just told me. Are you alright? Is she alright?" he asked, sitting back on his heels and looking from Green to Johnson. Johnson just shook her head.

"Frank, tell them," Green said, still wearing the faraway smile and glazed look. "It can't be. We're having dinner with you and Audrey tonight. Tell them." Longbottom just looked at her sadly. No one answered.

Finally, Johnson cleared her throat. "Have you notified her father?"

"I've sent him an owl, but he's out of the country on business for the next few days," Longbottom replied. "I've also sent an owl to my wife, we can look after her until he gets back."

Mrs. Figg wore a pained look. "I'm sorry that I can't be with you, Persephone, but I have to go to Wales today." Green didn't answer. Mrs. Figg walked around the table, bent over, and kissed Green's forehead. "I'm so sorry," she whispered.

Johnson also stood. "I've got to get over there--you understand." She gave Longbottom a knowing look, and everyone knew that she meant the scene of the crime. "They'll be wondering why I'm not there already." She looked at Green with sad compassion. "I'm sorry, Persephone."

But Green didn't answer. She didn't even look up as Johnson and Mrs. Figg swept out of the room. She was staring distractedly into a far corner.

"I didn't think you'd be able to Apparate or anything, so I've told Audrey to come and get us. She's on her way." Longbottom looked at her with concern, but Green didn't make any movement to show that she had heard him.

She continued to stare into space. "Not possible," she whispered.