The Brethren of Tyr

Chapter Twenty-One: The Knights of Walpurgis

The Easter holidays had come, and most of the school had gone home, except for those who were either in the fifth year or the seventh year, who were busy revising and attempting to stave off 'exam-itis', as Ginny had called it, whilst struggling to stay awake and read through her 'History of Magic' notes. Harry, Ron, and Ginny remained at Hogwarts, as did Draco, Harry noticed with some irritation. Presumably he had taken Persephone up on her offer of extra tuition to help improve his Defence Against the Dark Arts marks. At least if he wasn't in the mood to deal with Draco's constant barrage of insults and attacks, which occurred without fail if Harry was alone and no teachers were around, he had found a sure-fire way of avoiding conflict. All he had to do was stand near Hermione, and Draco would back off, presumably scared she might let slip about his indiscretion in the library as a retort. Sadly, this had been impossible for the past week, as Hermione had gone on holiday with her parents to Rome for 'a cultural experience' as she had put it. Alternatively, she had gone with her parents to 'look at a bunch of churches', as Ron had put it.

Another plus point was that Roger Davies was also busy revising for his N.E.W.T. exams, and with the absence of some of the Student Quidditch team, practise was suspended for a fortnight, meaning that Harry got to enjoy at least two extra days a week where he didn't have to get up at the crack of dawn and fly around on his broomstick in the freezing cold and rain. Much as he loved Quidditch, he couldn't help but appreciate being in his warm bed that little bit more.

"When is Hermione due back?" Ginny groaned, during breakfast that Friday. "I need my tutoring friend! Potions is killing me, I'm still not sure of the side-effects of over-using hellebore in medicinal draughts."

Harry shrugged.

"Not sure," he replied, "she said that they got back to England yesterday evening, and her parents wanted to unpack and get sorted before they drove her up to Scotland."

Ginny raised her eyebrows in curiosity.

"Why doesn't she just take the Knight Bus? It'll be quicker," she asked.

"I think her parents are worried about her going so far by herself," Harry replied, with a smirk. "Daft really, when you consider last year she flew across the British Isles on the back of an invisible horse. I'm sure public transport isn't nearly so hazardous," he added. Ginny looked up at him.

"Only her parents don't know about that," she replied. "Can't say that I blame her, they'd probably go spare if they found out half of the things that happened to her here."

Harry spotted Ron dragging himself into breakfast, looking bleary eyed. He sat himself down next to Ginny with a thud and clumsily began to butter some toast, dragging his sleeve into the pot of marmalade next to him.

"You look tired, Ron," Ginny commented. Ron merely grunted a reply as he ate his toast.

"What time did you go to bed last night?" Ginny asked.

"Late," Ron muttered, before buttering more toast. An evil grin spread across Ginny's face.

"Why were you up so late, Ron?" she asked. Ron turned his head and fixed her with a frosty glance.

"I just was," he replied, making it clear he wanted no further part in their conversation. Ginny shrugged and giggled into her porridge.

"Do you know when Hermione's supposed to be coming back, Ron?" Harry asked. Ron slammed his toast down onto his plate and stared hard at Harry.

"Oh, bloody hell, not you too!" he moaned. Harry was stunned.

"What are you on about, Ron?" he asked. Ron suddenly looked at the floor.

"Sorry, Harry," he mumbled. "It's all Ginny's fault. She's been winding me up all week."

Ginny's eyes widened in mock umbrage.

"Ron!" she exclaimed, "how can you accuse me, your darling little sister, of such awful behaviour?"

Ron merely shrugged, and went back to his toast. Ginny, however, stood up out of her chair.

"Right, I'm off," she announced.

"Where are you going?" Harry asked. Ginny sighed.

"I'm meeting Luna- to do some more revision," she replied, with a tone of melancholy. Harry smiled sympathetically at her.

"Good luck," he replied. Ginny rolled her eyes.

"I'm telling you, I'll be glad when the O.W.L.s are finally over- they're doing my head in!"

Harry watched her start to move away from the Gryffindor table and glance across at the Slytherins. Then, inexplicably, she walked back over to where Harry and Ron were sitting and Harry found himself face to face with her again.

"Ooh, have either of you two seen Malfoy about?" she asked. Ron looked askance at her.

"Why would we care where that git is?" he said, incredulously, and pulled a face that registered disgust. Ginny shrugged.

"It's just that I saw him last night, when I was coming back from the library. Snape was escorting him somewhere- he said something about there being a carriage ready for him and that he was sure she would be all right. I was just curious."

Ron and Harry looked at each other, and Ron shrugged.

"No idea," he replied.

"Sorry," Harry added. Ginny shrugged again.

"Oh well- I thought I'd ask. See you later," she called, as she walked towards the exit of the Great Hall.

"Wonder what all that was about?" Harry said to Ron, who shrugged.

"Who cares- it's Malfoy," he replied, with a snort of distaste.

Suddenly, a newspaper landed flat onto Harry's breakfast. Harry looked behind him, and saw Hermione standing there, a smile on her face. She smoothed down her hair with her hand, but it didn't stop it frizzing back out from underneath her headband.

"Oh, you're back," Ron stated, through a mouthful of toast. Hermione smiled wryly at him.

"Yes, Ron, obviously," she replied, sitting down next to Harry.

"How was Rome?" Harry asked. Hermione beamed.

"Oh, it was wonderful!" she enthused. "We visited Vatican City and I saw the Sistine chapel- can you believe that entire ceiling mural is painted to look three-dimensional? It's simply superb- it looks as though the people painted sitting up on the columns are actually hanging down!"

"Wow, sounds like a right laugh," Ron replied, giving Harry a look that suggested he found the whole idea somewhat tedious. Hermione narrowed her eyes at him.

"Just because you don't appreciate such things, Ron," she tutted, at which Ron rolled his eyes.

"Anyway," Hermione whispered, "that isn't really the interesting thing I found out."

Harry and Ron turned to face her.

"Well, what was?" Ron asked. Hermione pointed to the newspaper now lying in Harry's plate of scrambled eggs. It was a copy of the Daily Prophet.

"Check out the headline," Hermione said, encouragingly. Harry read it, and suddenly Ginny's revelation about Draco's mysterious disappearance made perfect sense.

Malfoy Manor Attacked!

Earlier last night, You-Know-Who made his move against the Malfoys' estate in Wiltshire, leaving the place in smouldering ruins and severely injuring Narcissa Malfoy. She is currently in St. Mungo's, having undergone treatment, and is in a stable condition. Her husband, Mr. Lucius Malfoy, was charged last June with attempted armed theft of the Ministry of Magic and use of the Unforgivable curses against minors, and was consequently sentenced to Azkaban prison, from which he mysteriously vanished and is now on the run. Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic said in a statement earlier this morning:

'It only goes to show that those who are in cahoots with You-Know-Who are not necessarily free from his wrath. I think this should be a sterling example to those who may think siding with him is a good idea.'

One possible victim was spared from the same fate, however by a curious turn of events. Draco Malfoy, son of Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy, should have been home for the Easter holidays, but stayed on at Hogwarts, apparently for extra tutoring, according to Narcissa Malfoy:

'At first, I was upset that my son wouldn't be joining me for the holiday,' she said just a few hours ago, 'but now I'm just so relieved that the school were doing what they considered necessary for my son's education, otherwise he might have ended up here too.'

However, there are some, albeit unreliable, sources that claim the attack was not You-Know-Who's doing. Alastor Moody, a veteran Auror who examined the case stated:

'That's not V*******t's work, look at that flaming curse! It spells out a message that seems more like a threat to V*******t and his followers than one from them. Look at it- 'From fiery vengeance, we shed blood upon this land, for that which is taken from us, shall be repaid by our hand'? Seems fishy to me.'

The Ministry urge people not to panic, as numerous Aurors have been put on the case and resolve to discover the source of the attack and punish those responsible immediately, providing it isn't You-Know-Who.

Harry was astounded.

"Wow, the Malfoys were attacked? How fitting," he replied, viciously. Ron nodded in agreement.

"Couldn't have happened to a nicer family," he added. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Haven't you noticed the most important part?" she asked, impatiently. Harry scratched his head whilst Ron shrugged his shoulders opposite.

"Enlighten us," Ron suggested to Hermione, who took him up on his offer.

"Well," she said, "look at the article. 'From fiery vengeance, we shed blood upon this land, for that which is taken from us, shall be repaid by our hand'? Didn't Luna mention that rhyme on the train to Hogwarts in September?"

Ron looked stunned.

"You aren't suggesting it was her, are you?" he asked. Hermione looked at him with mild distaste.

"No, of course not, Ron. I'm suggesting that Luna might have the answers, though."

She said this last sentence rather quietly, and Ron pounced upon it as though it were a freshly made Honeydukes chocolate bar.

"Hermione?" he asked, in mock astonishment, "are you suggesting that Luna Lovegood may know something relevant that didn't come from a book?"

Hermione blushed.

"I'm saying that perhaps we should ask her what else she knows about the Brethren of Tyr," she replied.

So, later that day Harry, Ron and Hermione interrupted a relieved Ginny and Luna from their revision and asked for their help. Luna, especially, had been most amused to watch Hermione sweetly admit that she had perhaps been a little hasty concerning Luna's insistence that the Brethren of Tyr really existed, and Harry recalled Ron's slack-jawed expression at seeing Hermione admit she was wrong with some amusement. After bribing the two fifth years with offers of revision tuition and a large bag of Honeydukes confectionary for their trouble, Ginny and Luna agreed to help them research the Brethren of Tyr.

"Anyway," Ginny said as the five of them entered the library, "it beats doing revision, even if it is just reading more books."

"If there are any books on the Brethren," Luna chimed in. "They aren't shrouded in mystery for nothing, you know."

"Well, let's start with the myth first," Hermione suggested, "That must point somewhere..."

Three and a half hours, twenty-two musty leather-bound books and a handful of newspaper cuttings later, Hermione shuffled her crib notes and read them aloud.

"Right," she announced, "this is what we've got. About a thousand years ago, Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw and Salazar Slytherin founded Hogwarts School for Wizardry and Witchcraft. Around a decade or so later, Salazar left the school and the others became a little estranged from each other. Now, why did that happen?"

Ron shrugged.

"Maybe because Slytherin was a racist bigot who didn't want to teach Muggle-borns?" he offered in a voice laced with sarcasm. Luna sniggered, but Hermione shook her head.

"Not exactly- listen to this," she said, pulling out one of the heavy books she had stuck a newspaper cutting in as a makeshift bookmark, and opened it at the appropriate page. She traced the words with her finger and found the passage she was after.

"It says here, 'Salazar Slytherin believed Muggle-borns to be untrustworthy, and with some good cause. Tales of witch burning and persecution by Muggles was starting to reach the ears of the wizarding community and many felt uneasy. Slytherin thought they needed to take drastic action, which offended his good friend Godric Gryffindor, who himself had married a Muggle-born witch and had a half-blood daughter who attended the school. Her name was Geraldine, and was particularly adept at Potions, which was Salazar's particular field of expertise. The two had been working closely together during her sixth year at Hogwarts on a cure for consumption, and somehow invented the Draught of the Living Dead during their abortive efforts.'"

"Oh," Harry commented, feeling the tale was a little anti-climactic. Hermione grinned darkly at him.

"Oh no," she replied, "It gets better. Turns out the rift between Godric and Salazar only erupted once Godric found out exactly how close the master and pupil had been working together."

"What do you mean?" Ron asked, his eyebrows creasing with thought. Hermione looked at him slyly.

"I mean the two were romantically involved. Listen to this- there are some snippets of love-letters exchanged between the two that were found when the Hogwarts grounds were renovated. Some rupturing of the floors and walls of the building during the casting of improvement spells in the nineteenth century revealed this evidence."

She cleared her throat and began to read out from the book that contained these notes.

"Here's the first one.

My Darling Geraldine,

Damn you and your charms, for I am powerless against your wishes- a man possessed by desire and blinded by a love so potent, it has caused me to disregard all reason. I reside here to be a teacher in the field of potions and draughts, not to be a student myself in the art of love. Your youth has indeed corrupted me, my love, for I grow hot where I should remain cold and become restless when I should remain still. Your beauty compels me; your intelligence confounds me and I am left a shell of a man, my heart quickening as though struck with fever, a fever only your touch, your kiss will ever cure. Though I fear for your attachment to me, it is not right nor maidenly, I am too weak-willed to repel you and think at once I should leave my seat of learning, if only so I may pursue you with purity of spirit, and Godric be hanged! Until tonight, my dear, may you wear the mantle of my love as I wear yours, but let it shield you, not weight you down.

Your humble servant,

Salazar."

"Ooh, how romantic! What did Geraldine have to say about that?" Ginny asked, enthusiastically. Hermione traced along the page a little further.

"I think she was pleased," she replied, "listen to this one.

Salazar, my Lord and Master,

You charm me yourself with your thoughts of fancy (for I hardly fancied myself as such a temptress!) though I beg of you not to consider leaving your learned position, nor think to harm my father in your passion (I jest, of course; the meaning of your words is quite clear to me). The walls of this hallowed place do confine me so; I feel their very weight press hard upon my chest and I do so yearn to be free. With you, my dear, I am free and if you should leave, when would I ever see you? Once, twice a year, if at all- no, I will not tolerate that. The fleeting moments we share each night grow too little as it is, and I do miss you so when the dawn rises, and we must continue our charade. Pray, never leave me, dear Salazar, for I am yours until the end of time, and so you must be mine the very same.

In love and honour,

Geraldine."

Hermione closed the book and sighed,

"It sounds as though it was very passionate," she replied, with a twinge of admiration. Ginny and Luna simultaneously sighed dreamily.

"Forbidden love, is there anything more heart-tugging?" Ginny asked. Luna nodded.

"Maybe unrequited love," she replied, wisely, "but I must say my insides have gone kind of gooey. It's so romantic!"

Hermione nodded in agreement.

"Isn't it just!" she exclaimed.

Ron's facial expression was a picture of horror.

"It's minging, that's what it is!" he exclaimed, slamming his hand down on the desk. "It's like... like... I dunno, Hermione; you and Snape running away together!" he exclaimed. Harry felt his face twist horribly in conjunction with the disgusting mental image he now had burned into his forebrain. One swift glance at Ginny, Hermione, and Ron confirmed he was not alone.

"Thanks, Ron," Hermione said, glaring at him.

"Sometimes, I sicken myself," he replied, looking into the distance.

"Hmm- I suppose he's sort of handsome in a not very handsome way," Luna thought out loud. Ron looked at her in palpable disgust. She continued to muse dreamily.

"In a 'use your imagination you could probably get there' sort of..."

"Luna, shush!" Ron hissed, suppressing her musings.

Desperate to try and forget the quite worrying scene that he had just pictured in his head of Snape confessing his love to a smitten Hermione whilst he was trying to make a wit-sharpening potion during class, Harry turned to face Hermione.

"What else does it say? And can we not hear any more of those letters, please?" he asked, fervently. Hermione smiled at him.

"Of course," she replied, shutting the book she was reading and pulling out another one.

"Apparently, according to the documented history on the Hogwarts founders- by which I mean the documented history not included in 'Hogwarts: A History," she added, glancing at a beaming Luna. "Godric did find out about his best friend and his daughter's clandestine affair, and he was furious. He stormed into one of Salazar's classes and challenged him to a duel there and then in the classroom..."

"Wonder what that reminds me of?" Ron added, sarcastically, clearly remembering Beauchamp and Snape facing off last year. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"I don't remember Beauchamp storming into our classroom demanding that Snape either 'die at my sword or face the seventh circle of Hell, you treacherous whoreson!'" At this, Hermione badly mimed the act of waving a sword, which coincided with Ron's ears suddenly turning red.

"Hermione," he whispered, "that looks really dirty, you know..."

Hermione suddenly stopped what she was doing, blushed crimson, and returned to explaining the book in front of her.

"Anyway, Godric Gryffindor basically gave Salazar Slytherin an ultimatum- leave his daughter, or find himself impaled on the end of his sword."

"Tough choice," Harry replied, not without sarcasm. "Which did he take?"

"Neither," Hermione said, her eyes glued to the book in front of her. "He and Geraldine eloped that very night, Salazar evidently safe in the knowledge that he had set up the Chamber of Secrets here already. The relationship between the founders was never quite the same after that. However, Salazar still worked hard to protect wizards and witches even when he left Hogwarts. He formed the Knights of Walpurgis..."

"Oh, I've heard of them!" Ron butted in, "didn't they have a hit with 'Baby, Can I Make Your Wand Sing'?"

Hermione looked at him with mild distain.

"No," she replied, simply, "the Knights of Walpurgis were an elite order of supreme wizards who went around preventing angry Muggle lynch mobs and vigilante groups from causing too much havoc against innocent wizards and witches. Trouble is, their idealism became supremacy, and the Knights used their position and knowledge to strike terror into the hearts of Muggles; baiting, attacking and killing them. In some cases, they did much worse things. A few years later, it all came to a head, and a huge war broke out that involved all the founders, Salazar included, that pitched Muggle against wizard."

She looked at the book in front of her again and read aloud.

"It says, 'During the Battle of Forth Valley, Geraldine, herself a half-blood, was killed by a pure-blood Knight, who laughed as he did so.'"

"Wow," Ginny said, looking downcast. "How's that for irony?"

Hermione continued.

"'Salazar killed the Knight with a single curse to the head and, wracked with grief for his young wife, uttered the words: From fiery vengeance, we shed blood upon this land, for that which is taken from us, shall be repaid by our hand. So, the Brethren of Tyr was born, out of the ashes of the now fragmented Knights of Walpurgis. They were a group of highly skilled Muggles and Muggle-born wizards and witches, marked with a tattoo of a blazing sun pierced by a chain wrapped around their upper arms, who set out to protect their people from the remaining maniacal pure-blood Knights of Walpurgis. Sadly, they too became corrupted, for their idealism turned to vengeance, as many of the Brethren had lost loved ones during that fateful war. The Brethren began to strike terror into the hearts of the pureblood wizards and witches in much the same way as the Knights struck the Muggle-borns and Muggles. Salazar Slytherin died before the two factions clashed, and they did so violently. After many deaths, the Brethren were driven underground and their actions became even more of a mystery.'"

Ron sighed.

"Well, that was helpful!" he moaned. "Suddenly everything's clear. What about in the present?"

Hermione pointed to the newspaper cuttings and a slightly less earthy-smelling book.

"If you stopped interrupting me, Ron, you'd find out!" she huffed. "Now then, that 'Brief History of Our Century' book you found misfiled between the Quidditch books appears to have the answers."

Ron beamed with pride.

"Never let it be said that my research skills are minimal," he replied. Luna giggled.

"It was a very useful book," she pointed out, shyly.

"It appears," Hermione continued, "that when Voldemort began his ascent to power in the seventies, he took the mandate of the Knights of Walpurgis, and merely changed the name. The Death Eaters are essentially the Knights of Walpurgis, except with both the idealism and the supremacy present at the start."

Luna nodded enthusiastically.

"That was when the Brethren began to strike out! Fulfilling their one thousand year old vendetta against the pureblood Knights. Or, in this case, pure-blood Death Eaters," she proclaimed. Hermione smiled politely and rifled through some of the newspaper cuttings on the table they were sitting at.

"There appear to be a number of cases of attacks reported in the Daily Prophet that suggest that people involved with neither the Ministry or Voldemort were causing them. Some of the Death Eaters the Ministry claim to have caught appear to have been killed before sentencing. The Daily Prophet blames Barty Crouch Snr. However, from the description of the crime scenes, it looks likely it could well be the same group of people that attacked Malfoy Manor."

Ron's eyes widened to the size of sickles.

"You're telling me those nutters are still out there?" he gasped, frantically. Harry personally couldn't see what the problem was. The more people that were out there fighting Voldemort, the better, in his opinion, though he decided to remain quiet.

"Yes, Ron," Hermione replied, "though it appears they are not so vengeance-driven as in the eleventh century." She pointed at the newspaper reports. "The attacks were all against known Death Eaters. Their families were targeted, true, but not every time. I dug a little further, and all the family members of Death Eaters that were attacked were actively supporting Voldemort to the point of offering money and Ministry favours. They were not innocent."

"Their methods weren't much different from Crouch's, then." Harry pointed out. Hermione slid a newspaper cutting under Harry's nose.

"Take a look," she replied, coolly. What Harry saw would have made his hair stand on end, if it wasn't doing so already of its own volition.

"Nasty, isn't it?" Ginny remarked. Harry shuddered, and pushed the cutting as close to the opposite side of the table as he could.

"Yet," Hermione mused, "the severity and violence of the attacks lessened around 1980..."

Luna gasped suddenly, and both Ron and Ginny nearly jumped out of their seats in surprise.

"Ooh," she said, suddenly, "I nearly forgot about the rumours."

Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"Which rumours?" she asked. Luna turned to face her.

"I heard from Daddy a while ago that there was a woman working in the Brethren that had escaped a Death Eater attack when she was younger."

"So?" Harry asked. Luna tutted in dismay.

"Harry!" she cried, "think about it. If she had escaped from Death Eaters, and then worked for the Brethren, why would the violence of the attacks lessen?"

Harry shrugged.

"I don't know," he replied.

Luna sighed.

"Me neither," she confessed, "but there must be something odd going on there..."

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry could see that Hermione's expression had suddenly taken on a frown.

"What's up?" Ginny asked, before Harry got the chance. Hermione didn't look up at either of them.

"Well, the attack on Malfoy Manor follows very similar patterns to the unexplained attacks of the seventies," she pointed out.

"Yeah," Harry prompted. Hermione was still frowning.

"And the Brethren of Tyr were reputed to be highly skilled warriors and spies- the Ministry were supposed to be crawling with them," she continued.

"Yeah."

"And Professor Beauchamp did recognise Snape as a Death Eater, as well as knowing all that really obscure stuff about vampires and..."

"And what?" Harry asked, through gritted teeth. Hermione blanched.

"And she did persuade Draco not to go home for the Easter holidays- you told me yourself," she said, quietly, "which suggests she might have known that attack would take place, and wanted to keep him out of..."

"Snape's a Death Eater?" Luna asked, her voice having suddenly lost its dreamy quality. Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny looked at each other in concern.

"Erm," Ginny stuttered, "it's complicated..."

Luna shrugged, apparently unconcerned by this revelation.

"Actually, it explains a lot," she replied.

"Luna," Hermione said, tentatively, "it's really important you don't say anything- it's a very dangerous thing to know, what with things being as they are..."

Luna waved her hand across her face.

"I'm in Ravenclaw, thank you very much! I know when to keep quiet about things," she replied, slightly indignant. Hermione flushed.

"I'm sorry, Luna," she said, "I just thought I should say..."

"Still," Luna continued, clearly unaffected by Hermione's previous warning, "it does rather put a damper on that mental image I had earlier of you and Snape in his private office, if he's a Death Eater. Your parents are Muggles, aren't they?"

Hermione stared at her, open mouthed, for at least five seconds.

"Yes, they are," she said, finally, "and please don't talk about that mental image ever again."

"I second that," a clearly aghast Ron added.

"Harry? Are you okay?" Ginny asked suddenly, placing her hand gently on his arm. Harry couldn't speak. He was furious at Hermione for daring to suggest Persephone was involved with such a group of people as the Brethren of Tyr, furious at her for suggesting his own flesh and blood could have a hand in anything so violent.

He was more furious at himself, though, because he knew Hermione could very well be right.

Chapter Twenty-Two: The Game of Warlocks

"Right, this is it, we've got one chance and one chance only." Roger was pacing up and down the Quidditch changing room, minutes before the match, delivering, in Harry's opinion, one of the most terrifying pep talks he had heard in the last five and a half years of playing Seeker. Clearly, Roger was desperate to win this Staff vs. Student Quidditch match. The rest of the team stood in their robes of deep purple with lining and stitching detail of silver and black (which Ron had complained made them look 'like right ponces!'), mesmerised by his words.

"We want to win this," Roger continued, "so be mindful of the professors- they may be old, but I've been watching them practice, and they're definitely still sprightly. Madley, Smith," he barked, and Laura and Zacharias almost jumped to attention.

"You and I have got to keep our eyes open for McGonagall, Sinistra and Vector," he continued, "Sinistra and Vector are very fast, McGonagall not so much, but she's got a strong throw and is deceptive. Dumbledore is their Keeper..."

"Dumbledore!" the rest of the team said in surprise. Roger nodded.

"Yes, Dumbledore. He told me he was rather enjoying the idea, gave him a chance to 'revisit his youth', I think were his words. Anyway, he seemed to know his stuff, and if he's a good a Keeper as he is a wizard, we'll need our wits about us. Weasley."

Ron snapped to attention.

"Yes?"

"Make sure you stay focused on those Quaffles!" Roger warned, "McGonagall, Sinistra and Vector are illusory Chasers and are likely to feint a lot, so be on your guard!"

Ron snapped a mock salute.

"Harry," Roger continued, without missing a beat, "their Seeker is Flitwick. Now, he's small, so can get some great speed up, plus he's got a pretty sharp eye- I've yet to pass a note in class without him spotting it, so you really need to be quick. I've seen that Wrongski Feint you've used before- it might be a good idea to use it again."

Harry nodded. Roger turned his sharp-eyed stare to Crabbe and Goyle.

"Crabbe, Goyle- you've got the toughest job- staving off Hooch and Beauchamp. The rumour that Hooch played for the Holyhead Harpies has been flying around for ages, if you'll excuse the pun. Beauchamp... well, I've seen her in practise. One word- violent. She'll have no qualms about knocking any of you off your brooms and landing you straight in the hospital wing if it'll keep you from scoring a goal or catching the Snitch. Think Snape if you've just exploded your cauldron in his class."

The team laughed at this remark, though Harry couldn't help but feel a little uneasy about Roger's easy comparison of Persephone and Snape, and reminder to Harry of their father-daughter relationship.

"Plus, the two seem to make a pretty tight double-act, so be on your guard," Roger added.

"Who's refereeing?" Laura Madley asked. Roger grimaced.

"Snape," he replied. The team groaned.

"I wouldn't worry," Ron remarked, "I reckon he dislikes the teachers almost as much as us. He'll probably be really impartial."

This made the team laugh, until a high-pitched bell cut through the noise of their laughter. Roger looked towards the exit to the pitch.

"Well, here we go. Good luck everyone!" he offered, before leading them out onto the pitch.

Harry saw the teachers exit from their changing rooms onto the pitch, resplendent in Quidditch robes of a cream colour with gold lining and stitching. He noted with amusement they did not suit the excessively lean Persephone, for with her long dark plait of hair she resembled a spent matchstick from a distance. Snape soon exited the changing rooms, walked towards the centre of the pitch and released the Quidditch balls. He then kicked down on his broomstick, flying out in his regulation white and black referee robes, his greasy curtains of hair flapping in the wind.

"Take your positions," he commanded, and the teams obeyed. Harry watched as Roger and McGonagall shook hands. Snape blew his whistle, and the game began.

Harry watched the resulting match eagerly whilst waiting for the Snitch to turn up, and he realised that he had absolutely no idea that his teachers were such good players. Before ten minutes had passed, McGonagall and Vector had brought the score to thirty-zero in favour of the Staff team. Dumbledore appeared to be in his element, grinning like a lunatic whilst deflecting Roger Davies' many attempts to score. The crowd were on tenterhooks- clearly every student in Hogwarts wanted to see the student team beat the teachers. Eventually, a huge roar from the crowd erupted.

"...And at long last Roger Davies' efforts are rewarded, thirty-ten to the Staff!" Colin Creevey excitedly squeaked, having taken over Lee Jordan's long-standing role of Commentator since he left Hogwarts last year.

"...Oh, and here comes Zacharias Smith rushing up with the Quaffle, he passes to Madley, who passes back to Smith, he's almost at the hoops... Oooh, what a lucky escape- Beauchamp sent a Bludger that nearly knocked him off his broom, the score still remains thirty-ten..." Colin continued, and Harry wondered when, if ever, the boy needed to stop for breath.

Suddenly, he saw Laura Madley duck out of his eye line, and a Bludger nearly smacked straight into her head. Harry looked across, and saw Beauchamp was vigorously defending her team's Chasers, and Laura was not to be shown any mercy. Zacharias did not look impressed, and was trying to get Snape's attention.

"Did you see that, sir? That was..."

"Within the rules, Smith," Snape lazily shouted back. Harry didn't want to admit he was right, just the thought made him too angry. Zacharias flew off to rejoin the Chasers as they attempted a Hawkshead Attacking Formation and formed an arrow shape across the pitch as they bolted from one end to the other, passing the Quaffle to each other as they did so.

"...And the Students score again, bringing the score to thirty-twenty, the Staff still ahead..."

Harry watched as Crabbe and Goyle moved to smack a nearby Bludger towards the three opposing Chasers. They weren't quick enough, for Beauchamp sped across to their one side and knocked it clean away from their reach, towards Hooch who belted it across the pitch towards Roger Davies, preventing him from scoring. The two Staff Beaters 'high-fived' each other in triumph.

"...Ooh, Crabbe and Goyle were just a little bit too slow, Beauchamp knocked the Bludger out of their grasp, anyway, the Student Beaters are trying to knock Bludgers towards the Staff Chasers again and Beauchamp has flown straight towards them, I think that might be a..."

Snape blew hard on his whistle.

"Foul; Beauchamp, for skinning..."

Persephone flew towards him and skidded to a halt. She clearly was in disagreement over the referee's decision.

"That wasn't a foul!" she protested. Snape remained firm.

"Foul..."

"Oi!" Beauchamp shouted back, "I didn't touch them! I flew towards them to get at the Bludger!"

Snape waved his hand sharply.

"My decision is final," he spat back. Persephone rolled her eyes.

"It's a bloody outrage!" she yelled. She then proceeded to conjure a large pair of glasses out of thin air and wave them in Snape's face.

"I think you need a pair of these, ref!" she taunted.

"If you're not careful, you're going to get a warning, Beauchamp!" he retorted. Madam Hooch flew next to Persephone.

"Beauchamp, leave it!" she barked, and Persephone reluctantly agreed.

"...after that rather tense moment, the match has been resumed, Davies has the Quaffle, passes to Madley, to Smith, ooh, intercepted by McGonagall, passes to Vector, who uses the old Porskoff Ploy to pass to Sinistra, who scores! Forty-twenty to the Staff team..."

Harry sighed. At this rate, they were never going to catch up, not until he caught the...

The noise of tiny fluttering wings buzzed in his ear, he glanced sideways, and saw the Snitch gleaming in the sunlight. He went to reach for it, but it flew out of reach, so he sped up on his broomstick to chase after it. The sunlight was glaring now, obstructing his vision somewhat, but not enough for him to miss the fact that Flitwick was too late to catch the Snitch. He reached out his hand and could feel the tips of the Snitch's tiny wings tickle his fingertips...

Suddenly, he found himself spiralling down to the ground, his right temple throbbing with pain. A nearby Bludger whizzing away gave Harry an idea as to what had happened, and Colin's commentary filled in the gaps.

"Ouch! Potter takes a blow to the head from Beauchamp's Bludger, surely a foul?"

The referee didn't seem to think so, despite numerous remonstrations to the contrary. Harry wasn't surprised; he reckoned Snape was so delighted at Harry receiving a sharp blow to the head he would have given Beauchamp extra points if he had the authority to bend the rules in such a fashion.

The match seemed to go on for hours. It had gone on for so long in fact, that the watching students had started to leave the stadium in small groups to get water, making sure they left at least one friend in the stands that could fill them in on the details of the game. Worse still, the Staff team were 140 points up on the Student team and since that blow to the head- that had at least been a superficial one- Harry had not spotted the Snitch once.

At that moment, he saw Flitwick suddenly zoom down to the ground, and Harry decided he really should keep his eyes open whenever he started to think about how he hasn't seen the Snitch in a while. Kicking down on his broom, he sped off after Flitwick, until they were both zooming after the glistening Snitch.

A number of things happened simultaneously at that point. McGonagall caught the Quaffle and was about to take aim towards the goal, Goyle ducked another of Persephone's vicious Bludger blows, and Roger Davies zoomed in front of McGonagall to try and catch the Quaffle in mid-throw. Harry saw all this because Roger misjudged McGonagall's throw, and smacked clear into a peeved Persephone, who swung her bat and hit the Bludger at the wrong angle; it swooshed past Goyle, who had dropped his broom a few feet to avoid the rogue attack, knocking Harry directly in front of Flitwick, who was almost heading for a collision course with the iron Bludger now heading towards them both. Harry felt himself turn three hundred and sixty degrees in the air, lose about ten feet in height, and somehow catch something small, gold and round that flew straight into his stomach.

The crowd roared. Harry was dazed himself- they had won by a hairs breadth. Colin was so excited; his commentary was barely audible to Harry.

"...AndtheStudentteamwinbyjusttenpointsandMcGonagall'sQuafflewasjusttwosecondstoolate..." he was squeaking speedily over the cheers. Harry looked fearfully over to Persephone, wondering if she would be furious. His fears were unjustified, for she appeared a very good loser, and had swooped over to him on her broom.

"Hey, Harry," she said, "well done! That was a brilliant job, I reckon Viktor would've been proud."

Harry smiled.

"Thanks," he replied. Persephone scrutinised him.

"Is your head okay? Sorry about that, by the way. I play rough," she explained, and Harry found himself laughing, despite the fact that he couldn't entirely shake Hermione's words about the Brethren of Tyr. Persephone could probably win this year's 'Understatement of the Year' competition with that declaration, he thought as he saw Goyle rubbing his head as Madam Pomfrey attended to him.

"You ought to get your head checked out, too," Persephone remarked, looking at the same scene Harry was.

"I'm okay," he replied, "are we still doing Occlumency practice this week?"

"Yep, if you're up to it," she replied, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. She motioned with her head that she was about to land, so Harry followed her.

Before they both headed for their separate changing rooms, Harry noticed the broom she was carrying, and his eyes widened.

"Wow!" he exclaimed, "a Firebolt 2170? Where did you get that?"

Persephone grinned and tapped her nose with her finger.

"I have my sources," she joked. "Seriously, I get them off Viktor. He gets sponsored, so he'll either blag me a new broom from the manufacturers, or he'll pass on his old one when he gets an updated model. Consequently I change my broom every six months."

"Cool," he replied, with a hint of envy. Persephone smiled.

"Ah, the perks of having a Quidditch star friend," she said, with a laugh, "Rolanda was admiring it earlier, actually. See you later."

As she walked off to get changed, Roger Davies caught up with him.

"Well done, Harry!" he beamed, and then ran off to catch a slightly dejected looking Ron. Harry heard him console Ron by pointing out that the three Chasers had been practicing almost every night under the glare of Madam Hooch, and that he did really well to save the goals he did. Harry had to agree with Roger, for it had been a very tough match. He saw Hermione run onto the pitch to console Ron herself, and appeared to be doing a better job than Roger. Unfortunately, Harry also saw Draco walk up to them, and decided it might be in everyone's best interests if he got himself involved.

"Just shut it, Malfoy!" Harry heard Ron shout. He saw Draco smirk, and say something in return that caused Ron to try and launch himself on him. Hermione and Roger were holding him back, Hermione standing between the two. Just before Harry got within grabbing distance of Draco, he turned to face Hermione and tried to do something to her, but he didn't get the chance. Hermione, clearly having learnt a lot from her Defence Against the Dark Arts lessons, had literally rolled him over her back, thrown him to the floor and now had a foot pressing hard against Draco's throat.

"If you learn to keep your mouth shut," Harry heard her hiss, "I'll remember to keep mine closed too."

Draco looked horrified, and Harry knew why, remembering what Hermione had told him about that incident in the library. He made a mental note to himself to remember how adept Hermione was at blackmail, having got both Rita Skeeter and Draco Malfoy now almost at her beck and call.

"What is the meaning of this?" Snape barked, having run across to sort out the source of their disturbance, Persephone in hot pursuit, clearly having abandoned any attempts to get changed.

"Let go of him, Miss Granger," he commanded, and Hermione reluctantly loosened her grip before stepping cautiously away, as though Draco was some kind of feral animal that might attack if not kept contained.

"Twenty points from Gryffindor for attacking a fellow student..."

"Attacking him?" Persephone retorted, having reached the scene. "From what I saw, it was self-defence! In fact, twenty points to Gryffindor for remembering my classes so well."

Snape glared at her.

"I don't know what you were watching, Professor, but I can guarantee that Miss. Granger was unprovoked!"

"Are you sure about that?" Persephone replied, breezily, her head cocked to one side as she scrutinised Draco and Hermione, with a quick glance at Ron's now furious expression. Persephone smiled.

"Just because I find that Mr. Weasley rarely looks this angry without good reason. What say you, Harry?"

Harry nearly jumped.

"Oh, yeah- Ron doesn't get annoyed without a good reason, and he's quite protective of Hermione. Well, we both are, she's our friend, see..."

"Potter, be quiet," Snape barked.

"But, Professor Beauchamp..."

"Ten points from Gryffindor for cheeking a member of staff..."

"Ten points from Slytherin for assaulting a girl!" Persephone retorted. Snape glared at her.

"Ten points to Slytherin for not rising to such provocation!"

Beauchamp snorted, and stared back.

"Ten points to Gryffindor for not providing such provocation!"

Roger Davies raised his hand casually.

"If I might pipe in..."

"Shut up, Davies!" they both retorted. Roger raised his eyebrows but remained quiet.

"Fine," Persephone announced, "two times five times the first number of the Fibonnacci sequence minus three plus the second number in the prime sequence points to Gryffindor for application of lesson practice, and the square root of three thousand four hundred and forty-nine minus the fourth number of the prime sequence divided by ten times two from Slytherin for being a letch."

Snape made a movement to answer, but no sound came from his lips. Persephone pointed at him.

"Ha!" she exclaimed in triumph, "you may be able to hold your own against me in a Wizards' Duel, but you are no match for my mental arithmetic skills."

"Just shut up and get changed," he replied, with an irritated sigh. She grinned, saluted him and walked off to the changing rooms. He followed, after warning Harry, Ron and Hermione none too pleasantly, to behave themselves. Draco walked off after Crabbe and Goyle almost immediately after.

Roger looked flummoxed.

"They do act rather oddly around each other, don't they?" he remarked, jerking his head in the direction of Snape and Persephone. Harry shrugged.

"Well, you know teachers," he replied, nervously. Roger laughed.

"True, they spend far too much time in the company of children," he said. Harry and Ron laughed a little too much at his remark.

"Well, good game, chaps, see you later," Roger said, and with that, he was gone.

"That was well weird," Ron said, "They were acting like relatives!"

"Well, they are relatives, Ron," Hermione reminded him. "Surely it's nice. It must be hard to come to terms with learning who they are to each other."

"Let's just get changed," Harry interrupted, not wanting to get into the conversation he could tell they were about to have concerning Persephone and Snape being daughter and father respectively.

"Good idea, Harry," Ron replied, "I might just go spare if I have to stand around in these purple robes much longer. Purple, I ask you!" he grumbled, as the three of them made their way to the changing rooms.