The Man of the Moment

Chapter Seven: Not the First, Nor the Last

After Persephone had ticked them off on her register, and given them the new password for the common room (which Ron and Hermione already knew, seeing as they had chosen the passwords for each of the four houses' common-rooms), they had all briskly unpacked their belongings, and made their way down to the Great Hall.

"I hope Dumbledore doesn't mention anything about the Death Eaters attacking my house," Hermione whispered as they walked along the corridor.

"I don't think you've got anything to worry about," Harry soothed, "I mean, Mr. Weasley was furious that the Daily Prophet had published your name and all those details about your life, and he's the Minister for Magic. I reckon Dumbledore would feel the same- knowing there was a Death Eater attack on one of the students here would be enough, he wouldn't drag your name into the whole thing."

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief.

"I know, I just wanted somebody else's opinion," she replied, as they entered the Great Hall.

The murmur of chattering quickly subsided, and they were greeted with silence by the rest of the students. Harry saw Hermione fumble nervously with her robe clasp as every pair of student eyes turned to look at her. Dumbledore may not have said a word, but the Daily Prophet had clearly done its job to perfection.

Suddenly, the entire collective of students at the Gryffindor table burst into rapturous applause, and Harry could make out a few shouts of, 'We're glad you're back, Hermione!' from various members of his year group. Parvati and Lavender actually got out of their seats and ran over to her, enveloping her in a huge hug.

"Oh, Hermione- I know we've not been great friends as such, but... I'm so glad you're okay!" Parvati said into Hermione's hair.

"When I first saw that report, I, I... I thought you were... but you're not, thank goodness!" Lavender squealed at the other side of Hermione's head. Harry glanced across at Hermione, and saw she was near tears, though this was soon hidden from view as most of the students sitting at the Gryffindor table got up to wish her well, along with all of the D.A. group from two years previous. To his utter amazement, Harry even spotted one or two of the younger Slytherins catch Hermione's eye, and smile sympathetically at her. Draco, however, looked as though he had just bitten into a raw lemon. Crabbe and Goyle remained passive in expression, though neither of them looked Draco in the eye.

Harry looked up at the staff table, and saw Dumbledore wipe away a single tear. McGonagall was practically crying into Snape's robe sleeve, while he looked deeply unimpressed. Persephone was smiling, and Harry saw her say, "It's amazing, isn't it, how children en masse can be so giving," to Professor Flitwick, who was nodding in agreement.

"You've not been teaching long, Persephone; you'll soon see it isn't that rare an occurrence," he replied.

McGonagall wiped her eyes on a handkerchief a mildly irritated Snape handed her, before getting up and leaving the hall. She soon returned with a three-legged stool and a familiar crumpled black hat, which she set out in front of the High Table.

Heavy footsteps echoed in the hallway, and Harry turned around to see who they belonged too. He soon saw that Hagrid had brought the first years into the hall. He smiled at him, and Hagrid smiled back.

"Evenin', Harry. Nice ter see yeh back- you too, Ron, Ginny," he said. Harry smiled.

"Nice to see you too, Hagrid," they replied, in near chorus. Hagrid's gaze fell on Hermione, who had now been hugged by the last of the D.A. and was about to take a deep breath. Harry could see her knees were trembling a little, and she was clearly overwhelmed by the response of her classmates.

"Hermione!" Hagrid bellowed, pulling her into a bear hug so tight, that Hermione was practically swept off her feet.

"Thank Goodness- yeh know, I saw the Daily Prophet, and 'eard," he dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, "y'know, from Dumbledore... You had a lucky escape!"

"It wasn't entirely lucky," Hermione whispered back, and Hagrid smiled.

"I 'eard tha' too," he replied, gesturing to the High Table, but only Harry noticed.

Hagrid then let Hermione go, and both Ron and Harry rushed to offer her their arms, for she looked close to collapse. She leant on them for just a moment, before regaining her composure and walking off, unaided, to sit at the Gryffindor table.

"Wow," Ron said as he sat down opposite Hermione, "that was a nice response."

"Yeah," Harry added, "even some of the Slytherins were showing you support there!"

Hermione smiled darkly.

"Three guesses which of the Slytherins didn't," she said, grimly, casting a sharp glance at Draco, who was steadfastly ignoring her. Then she frowned.

"What's going on with Crabbe and Goyle?" she mused. Ron craned his neck to see.

"That's weird, they're not talking to him. Well, they're not listening to him, at any rate," he corrected himself.

"That is odd," Harry replied, but then remembered exactly which two people Persephone and Alex attacked to insinuate their way into the group of Death Eaters that attacked Hermione's house during the holidays. If Draco was telling the truth about his father instigating the raid...

"You don't suppose Alex and Persephone hurt Crabbe and Goyle's fathers during the attack? I mean, really hurt them?" Hermione whispered, clearly beating Harry to the finishing post of that particular hypothesis.

"Don't you think Persephone would have mentioned it? I mean, she did incapacitate that Death Eater, right in front of us! It's hardly like she'd want to shield us from anything as gruesome as attacking a couple of Death Eaters," Ron pointed out. Harry felt himself grimace.

"Not just any Death Eater," he replied, "Ioan Desislav- he was her boyfriend at Durmstrang."

Hermione clapped her hand to her mouth.

"Oh, my!" she exclaimed, "how awful for her!"

"Awful for him, more like," Ron retorted, blithely, "he was the one that ended up on the wrong side of the Brethren."

"Anyway, he did try to throttle her," Harry added. Hermione smiled grimly.

"I'd imagine that hardly makes it any easier," she replied. Harry looked across at the High Table- Persephone seemed jovial enough, chatting away to Dumbledore while Snape poured out a glass of wine. Dumbledore caught Harry's gaze, and smiled at him, whilst taking the goblet Snape handed him and drinking deeply from it.

Suddenly, a deathly silence fell upon the students, as McGonagall tapped the hat, and it burst into song.

'Once again, as every year

I'm placed upon my stool,

To read your minds, sense your fear

And quarter up the school.

One thousand years, or thereabouts,

I've never made an error,

Through years of peace, times of war,

And centuries of terror.

Old Hogwarts School was built by four

Who, idealistic and yearning,

Formed a place for wizards all;

A hallowed seat of learning.

So here I sit with all their hopes,

Their attributes for pupils,

To sort you all and show the ropes

To those with like-mind scruples.

Perhaps your home is Gryffindor,

Where those of heroic disposition

Are prized the best of all the four,

And make bravery their mission.

Or maybe wise old Ravenclaw

Will better suit your needs,

Where intellect is held in awe

Much more than daring deeds.

Hufflepuff, that loyal house

Where decency is desired,

They're not the sort to moan and grouse

When hard work is required.

Slytherin, if you are crafty

And also of pure stock,

Though that bounder wasn't fussy

Where he put his...'

McGonagall pointed her wand threateningly at the Sorting Hat, and it emitted a small cough before continuing. Harry saw that Ron was too busy crying with laughter to notice, as were many of the students from all four houses who were over thirteen.

'So put me on, atop your head,

And sit where others once sat.

I'll show you just which path to tread,

For I'm the Sorting Hat!'

Everyone clapped, the first year students doing so nervously. Harry watched as they nudged each other and whispered things like, "Is that Harry Potter over there?" "That's that girl in the Daily Prophet..." "Do you think his hair's always like that?" Harry also noticed Persephone say something along the line of, "That hat reminds me of myself. If I were a singing hat, I'd definitely have written that eighth stanza," to Professor Flitwick, who sniggered into his wine goblet and consequently failed to take a sip.

Soon enough, McGonagall began to call each student over to be sorted.

"Ang, Szeto," she announced, and a small, dark-haired boy sat nervously on the three-legged stool whilst McGonagall placed the hat on his head. After a few moments, the sorting hat shouted, "Slytherin!" and he walked towards the Slytherin table, who all greeted him.

"Archer, Jeremy," McGonagall read out, at which a boy with messy brown hair sat on the stool and looked up excitedly as the hat was placed on his head.

"Gryffindor!" the hat proclaimed, and the boy punched the air and hissed, "Yes!" before running up to the Gryffindor table and sitting down as though he had been there for years.

"Blackstock, Elizabeth..."

"Hufflepuff!"

Soon enough, a barrage of first years made their way to the Gryffindor table, whom Hermione greeted warmly. Harry was introduced to a Ryan Catchpole, a Caroline Davis and a Layla Madari before he even noticed that the sorting had come to an end with 'Wolmark, Jessica', who was sorted into Ravenclaw. McGonagall left the stool and the sorting hat where they were and returned to her seat at the High Table.

Dumbledore stood up to speak, and the room fell silent once more.

"Greetings, one and all! Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts. Now, before we begin our traditional feast, I have a few school announcements to make. To the first years; the Forbidden Forest is strictly out of bounds, although I am aware that some of our older students would do well to remember this rule." Dumbledore appeared to look pointedly at Harry, Ron and Hermione, who all feigned looks of innocence, at which Neville grinned. Dumbledore took a handkerchief out of his pocket and clumsily wiped his forehead before he continued.

"After our interesting departure on the traditional Quidditch Inter-House cup last year..." He paused for the inevitable laughter and cheering that came from the student tables, at which the first years were palpably confused. Harry saw Persephone mouth, "We were robbed, Filius!" to Professor Flitwick, much to the amusement of Dumbledore.

"As I was saying," he continued, "Quidditch matches will resume as normal this year. Trials will take place in the second week of term, please see Madam Hooch if you are interested in trying out for your house team."

Harry noticed a fair few of the first years get rather excited about this news- Jeremy Archer in particular was eager to find a fellow first-year who might like to try out with him for a place as a Beater, apparently undeterred by the fact that first years were not allowed their own brooms. Personally, Harry was wondering if he might have a shot at the captaincy of the Gryffindor team this year.

Dumbledore stared across at the four tables of students, and they instantly fell silent.

"A bit of bad news now, I'm afraid. All Hogsmeade trips have been cancelled, for safety reasons. As I'm sure you're all aware of the situation, I shan't bring it up, and I hope you are all appreciative of why such precautions have been taken."

Although this piece of news was not desirable, nobody grumbled or complained. One or two turned and looked at the Gryffindor table- or more specifically, at Harry and Hermione, before looking at each other and nodding gravely. Dumbledore closed his eyes for a moment, and for a moment Harry thought he saw him tremble, but he merely nodded along with them.

"And, seeing as for the first time in seven years, we do not have any new members of staff to introduce," he continued, taking a deep breath, "I say to you all..."

Suddenly, the colour drained from Dumbledore's face, and he fell forward. Snape and McGonagall jumped up and caught him before he crashed into the lectern, and sat him in his chair. The students collectively gasped, and many stood up in their seats to get a better view of what was going on.

"Sit down, children!" McGonagall ordered, but it did precious little good. Harry watched, powerless, as Persephone pressed her index and middle finger to the inside of Dumbledore's wrist, then to his neck under his jaw. Having done this, she quickly rolled him onto the floor, and pinched his nose, before putting her mouth to his and slowly breathing air into his mouth. Harry saw Dumbledore's chest rise, then fall, but no more movement occurred. Persephone placed one hand flat on his breastbone, and the other on top of it, then kneaded his chest repeatedly. She repeated the cycle of motions three times, before pressing her head to his chest. She looked up at McGonagall, and shook her head. McGonagall took Snape to one side, and they had a brief conversation that Harry couldn't hear, before Snape's expression took on a look of horror. He cast a sweeping glare across the entire room.

"Don't touch any of the food or drink on the tables!" he bellowed, before purposefully knocking a wine goblet out of Professor Sprout's hands, who had grabbed said item whilst sinking into her chair in dejected sorrow. She jumped in shock.

At that moment, chaos descended upon the Great Hall, with students screaming and jumping out of their seats. Ron looked at Harry with fear in his eyes.

"What's happened?" he asked. Harry felt his mouth go dry.

"I don't know, Ron," he replied. They both looked at Hermione, who was watching the scene at the High Table with her hands to her mouth. She looked distraught.

"I think... Oh, it can't be, it just can't..." she wittered, horror-struck. A quick glance around the Gryffindor table saw that Hermione was not alone in her agitation.

"Silence!" Snape roared, and the entire school obeyed instantaneously. The effect made Harry think momentarily that Snape had cast a silencing charm on the members of the room. He watched as Snape ran a hand through his greasy hair, before addressing the school.

"If anybody has consumed any food or drink, stay right where you are until a member of staff checks you over and administers you with an antidote if required. The rest of you, follow your House prefects to your respective common-rooms, and stay there until instructed further," he commanded, in a tone frightening enough for all the students not to dare disregard his words. Harry watched as prefects from each House stood up and shouted instructions to their fellow House members to follow them. McGonagall ran from the High Table down to where Harry, Ron and Hermione were seated.

"Ron, Hermione, please stay behind here to help with the remaining students," she said, quietly, and the Head Boy and Girl got up to assist.

"We'll see you in a bit, Harry," Hermione said, with Ron nodding in agreement.

"We'll let you know what's going on," he added, as the rest of the Gryffindors returned to their common room.

***

"What do you think's happened?" Colin Creevey, the recent Quidditch commentator asked in an uncharacteristically subdued voice, as they all sat in the common room. Ginny hugged her knees.

"I don't know, but I'm guessing it isn't good," she replied, in equally hushed tones. Dean put his arm around her.

"It'll be okay," he soothed, "Dumbledore's hard as nails; he'll be fine."

Harry looked at his shoelaces, and wished he could be as confident as Dean. Seamus seemed to share in Harry's pessimism, however.

"He didn't look fine to me, Dean," he said, slumping into a nearby chair. "He didn't look fine at all."

"Let's just wait until Hermione and Ron get back," Harry interjected, doing his level best to keep irritation and worry from edging his voice. "They'll be able to tell us for certain."

He watched as Ginny leant into Dean's body and rested her head on his shoulder. Dean hugged her more tightly as a result, and the two of them looked the image of tender melancholy. Harry averted his gaze, feeling uncomfortably voyeuristic watching Dean and Ginny comfort each other, and instead glanced across the common room. It was then that he spotted Neville, sitting on the window ledge and staring out at the Hogwarts grounds, except his gaze seemed to be fixed beyond the picturesque vista.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked, leaning against the wall near where Neville was hunched.

"Yeah," Neville replied, not taking his eyes off the landscape.

Harry pushed himself off the wall with his palms and made to sit back down, but Neville began to speak.

"You know, with Dumbledore gone, we'll be sitting ducks here," he said, without looking at Harry.

"He hasn't gone anywhere," Harry replied, ignoring the sickly feeling creeping into his stomach. Neville snorted, a harsh, brittle sound Harry had never heard him use before.

"Did you see the same thing I did down there in the Hall?" he asked, rhetorically. Harry couldn't form a reply; the words stuck sharply in his throat and wouldn't budge. Neville didn't wait for him to respond.

"V... Vol..." Neville took a deep breath. "Voldemort never dared to attack Hogwarts while Dumbledore was headmaster- Gran says that he was the only wizard Voldemort ever feared. Let's just say I reckon there would be plenty of his followers who would like to get our headmaster out of the way..."

A couple of first years whimpered at Neville's words.

"Neville!" Ginny gasped, crossly. Neville shrugged.

"We shouldn't fool ourselves into thinking we're safe here, that nothing can touch us. Nowhere is safe now," he replied. Harry thought about Hermione and her parents, and couldn't help but agree with Neville's words.

Ron and Hermione entered the common room, ushering a few pale looking students inside, who immediately sat down in the nearest available space, clutching their stomachs.

"What's up with them?" Dean asked, as Ron and Hermione made their way over towards Harry.

"Oh, they've been given some generic antidote, but it aggravates the stomach, I think... they'll be fine," Ron replied, weakly. Harry looked at him, and suddenly noticed how ashen-faced Ron appeared. He flicked a nervous glance towards Hermione, and saw her face was red and blotchy, her eyes were red-rimmed, and they glistened in the light.

"What's the matter?" he asked, standing up a little straighter. Ron and Hermione exchanged glances.

"I think you'd better sit down, Harry," Ron replied, with definite sadness in his voice. Harry sat down next to Ginny and looked expectantly up at them. Ron and Hermione sat down too, Ron sat crossed-legged on the floor and Hermione knelt down beside him.

"McGonagall will be giving you the news officially in a few minutes- she and Snape are double-checking the food supplies..." She inhaled sharply to steady herself, then replied, "Dumbledore's passed on."

Harry felt as though all the air had suddenly left the room, and he wrapped his arms around his knees, not knowing what to say, or how to act. Ginny looked horror struck.

"What?" she asked, numbly.

"He's dead, Ginny," Ron replied, in a hollow voice. Dean and Seamus shook their heads in sorrow. Neville looked as though he was about to burst into tears.

"I told you," he said, shaking his finger, "I... I just knew it..." He trailed off, clearly too upset to continue speaking. Hermione placed her hand on Neville's arm.

"It's simply awful," she agreed, looking up at him with bloodshot eyes.

"Are you alright, mate?" Ron asked someone. It took Harry a few moments to register that the question had been directed at him.

"Oh, yeah- I'm fine," Harry lied, not wanting to discuss his feelings at that moment in time. Dumbledore dying; the very notion seemed ridiculous. He was the only one Voldemort feared, the wise headmaster of Hogwarts; even the previous Minister for Magic had felt unable to function without his sage advice, at one time. Now he was nothing more than a memory. How was that even possible? He had seemed perfectly fit and healthy- there was no reason for him to go!

"How did he die?" Harry asked, quietly. Hermione frowned.

"They don't know yet- Persephone has Flooed the Magical Murder Department of the Ministry. She seems to think that foul play was afoot," she replied. Harry looked up at her.

"And what do you think?" he challenged, somewhat aggressively. Hermione visibly stiffened.

"There's no need to take that tone with me, Harry- I am trying to help," she said. Harry looked at the floor.

"Sorry, Hermione," he mumbled. Hermione smiled sympathetically at him.

"It's okay, Harry."

"Well, what do you think?" Seamus asked, though his tone was one more of interest. Hermione's entire facial expression toughened.

"I think she's right," she replied, simply. Ron looked at her incredulously.

"Murdered?" he exclaimed, "Don't be daft! Dumbledore's just about the best wizard ever, there's no way he could be murdered!" He sounded to Harry as though he were trying to convince himself more than anything else.

Hermione looked up at Ron earnestly.

"Do you remember how I'd been reading 'Silent Witness- The Use of Lethal Potions'? Dumbledore's behaviour, just before he keeled over- the sweating and the lack of coordination, are classic symptoms of poisoning. Face it," she sighed, "it wouldn't be too difficult to slip a bit of something toxic into his food, or his water supply.

Harry gripped his knees more tightly; this couldn't be happening. He even pinched himself to try and wake up from this terrible nightmare, but it was no good- he certainly wasn't dreaming. He became dimly aware of Ginny's small hand resting on his own.

"They'll find out who did this, Harry. They won't get away with it," she said, firmly.

"How can you be so sure?" he asked. Ginny smiled wickedly, and leant in towards Harry's left ear.

"Can you honestly imagine the Order taking this lying down? Or the Brethren, for that matter- he extended the hand of friendship and respect to them, and I remember Dad saying something about how they 'look after their own'. This isn't the end, not by a long shot," she whispered, and Harry felt comforted by her words, although he wasn't entirely sure Ginny would have understood why. The words 'This isn't the end, not by a long shot' reminded Harry of why he had been so worried- with Dumbledore gone, it seemed so had the chance to beat Voldemort and his forces. Ginny's words had reminded him there were still many who were determined to see Dumbledore's work through to the bitter end. How exactly they would achieve this, Harry had absolutely no idea, for Dumbledore's plans must have died with him, unless he wrote down a detailed tactical campaign beforehand.

McGonagall entered the common room at that point, looking very grave and thin-lipped.

"I'm afraid, I have bad news, children," she said, in a tired voice, as every member of Gryffindor House turned to face her.

"Your Headmaster, Professor Dumbledore, has passed away this evening," she announced, in formal tones, although Harry had no difficulty in recognising the sorrow in her voice. The only students that didn't gasp in horror were Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville, Dean and Seamus, and that was only because they had already heard the news. Horrified whispers echoed around the room, before McGonagall motioned for them to be silent. She conjured a huge pile of sandwiches and a few barrels of pumpkin juice, along with a mound of plates and goblets.

"Now, I know this is a huge shock to everyone; the staff included, but please try to eat something, and to get some sleep- classes will commence as usual tomorrow morning. Your timetables will be available during breakfast in the Great Hall. I have some business to attend to, so I bid you good night. I shall see you all in the morning," she finished, and with that, she was gone.

Hermione swiftly set herself the task of distributing the food and drink around the various members of Gryffindor House. Harry saw, out of the corner of his eye, Ron watching her intently, before getting up to help her. Soon, everyone was tucking into ham and cheese sandwiches, and talking solemnly about the day's events. Ron and Hermione sat back down with Harry, and they looked as though they were about to speak, except that a voice distracted them. It was Jeremy Archer.

"What about that Potions teacher? Jack Sloper was telling me about him earlier, at the table- he said he was really horrible, and favours all the Slytherins. He could've done it," he enthused, holding court with some of the other first years. Hermione stood up.

"Jeremy, what are you talking about?" she asked. Jeremy turned to face her, although Harry noticed he didn't look straight at her.

"Who murdered the Headmaster. You have to admit, it's pretty suspicious, him dropping dead like that. I reckon someone did him in," he replied. Hermione pulled a face, and Harry recognised it as the one she often used on Ron if he was berating a teacher.

"Honestly, Jeremy- we don't know anything about it," she lied. Jeremy shrugged.

"I'm just saying, our Headmaster is happily sipping wine one minute, and is dead the next. He's sitting next to a Potions teacher. Coincidence? I think not."

The other Gryffindor students began to murmur their concord. Hermione shook her head.

"Well, I would advise you not to go around sharing that hypothesis with everyone, Jeremy, especially as I'd imagine you'll have Potions tomorrow," she replied, in a friendly offhand manner, though Harry noticed she appeared to be thinking hard about something. Jeremy nodded, and continued to engage his little first-year group in conversation about possible murder suspects.

"What's up, Hermione?" Ron asked. Hermione's brow furrowed in thought.

"I see where Jeremy's coming from," she replied. Ron raised an eyebrow at her.

"Hang on, are you telling me you suspect Snape?" he asked. "You never suspect Snape!"

Hermione sighed.

"I'm not saying I suspect him," she replied, "but I am saying there is some evidence that points towards him being a suspect."

"Such as?" Harry asked, his interest suddenly piqued.

"Well, as Jeremy said, he does teach Potions, and he knows what he is talking about, so for him to brew up a poison wouldn't be difficult. We saw him in the apothecary, remember?"

Harry nodded, and clicked his fingers as though the action connected to his brainwave.

"Of course- we saw him buy a bunch of ingredients the Apothecary seemed to think weren't appropriate for the school curriculum," he said. Hermione nodded in agreement.

"Also, he was pouring out the wine at the beginning of the non-feast," she explained, "and I saw him specifically hand a glass to Dumbledore. About fifteen minutes later, after exhibiting a number of symptoms indicative of poisoning, he died. Depending on the findings of the Magical Murder Department, Snape could be in big trouble- guilty or not."

The idea should have worried Harry, yet the thought of Snape in Azkaban didn't exactly make him think he would lose sleep over it. Hermione's expression was altogether more troubled, though.

"He can't have done it- what could he possibly stand to gain from Dumbledore's death?"

"Well," Ron said, with a hint of sarcasm, "if he is still working for Voldemort, or trying to get into his good books, I'd say killing Dumbledore would earn him some serious Brownie points, wouldn't you?"

Hermione sighed impatiently.

"Ron, he isn't working for Voldemort anymore," she replied.

"How can you be so sure?" Ron retorted, and Hermione could give no reply to this question other than, "Dumbledore trusted him."

"He trusted Quirrel," Harry replied. "And Barty Crouch Junior when he was disguised as Moody. And he trusted Snape to teach me Occlumency..."

"Alright, alright! But you both seem to have forgotten that he helped save my life," Hermione spat back, tersely. Harry looked suitably embarrassed, and a quick glance at Ron told the same story.

"Sorry, Hermione," Ron said, sheepishly.

"That's all right," Hermione replied. "I just can't believe he'd have done it..."

Ginny began to giggle.

"I'm sure Hermione has her own reasons, too," she added, with a teasing smile that Harry couldn't fathom the point of. Hermione's cheeks coloured up a little, but she did not respond to Ginny's remark.

"What about Persephone?" she asked, suddenly. "Dumbledore did say Snape would never go back to Voldemort because he killed Snape's daughter."

"That was when they thought she was dead, though," Ron countered. "She didn't die, it's been a long time. He may well feel there's nothing holding him back now."

Harry said nothing, and tried to eat his sandwich, but it was no good. The last thing he felt was hungry.

"Oh, Harry- do try and eat something," Hermione cajoled. Harry sighed.

"Don't fuss, Hermione- I'm just not hungry," he replied, with a hint of vexation in his voice. Hermione remained undeterred.

"Well, at least drink something," she ordered, thrusting a goblet of pumpkin juice into his hand. Harry grudgingly accepted it and did as he as told. To his surprise, he noticed that even Ron's appetite appeared to have dwindled significantly- for he had left a half-eaten sandwich on his plate.

Ginny yawned and stretched her arms above her head.

"I think I shall go to bed," she announced, before turning to look at Hermione. "Coming, Hermione?"

The girl in question nodded, and pulled herself up into a standing position.

"Yes, I'm rather tired, too," she replied, and the two girls made their way upstairs to the dormitories after saying goodnight. Harry doubted very much that they were going to sleep. It seemed altogether more plausible to assume they were going to find somewhere more private to chat. He looked around, and saw to his surprise that only he, Ron and Neville were still in the common room.

"They all began to file out about half an hour ago," Neville said, answering Harry's unasked question. He nodded in response.

"I see..." He trailed off, unable to form any more words due to a combination of tiredness and grief. One look at Neville's face told the same story, and it was left to Ron to put a hand of each of their shoulders.

"Come on, guys- we've still got classes tomorrow. Might as well make the best of them with a decent night's sleep," he chivvied. Neville sighed.

"How are we supposed to sleep well after this?" he asked. Harry couldn't help but agree with Neville's words, but he remained silent and allowed Ron to lead him up to their dormitory.

***

The Great Hall was silent for breakfast the following morning. Harry didn't feel much like talking, and it appeared that the rest of the student body felt the same way. Occasional smiles of sympathy were passed around, as well as the dishes of butter. Harry put a couple of slices of toast onto his plate and buttered them methodically, before carefully spreading a thick layer of marmalade onto one. He looked across at Ron and Hermione, who were equally grave. Dean and Ginny were just as quiet, as was Neville. Up at the High Table, the staff seemed as sombre as the children, if not more so. McGonagall and Snape were sitting together, surreptitiously looking at each other when the other had their head turned. Flitwick didn't try to hide his grief, nor did Sprout. Persephone was the only one eating a decent breakfast, though her face was paler than usual, and Harry imagined from the way her eyes had puffed up that she had shed a few tears.

"Harry?" Hermione asked, tentatively.

"Yeah?" he replied, at which Hermione seemed to relax a little. She handed him a piece of parchment.

"Your timetable. The Heads of House put them on our table," she explained.

"Thanks," Harry replied. Ron glugged down a half-pint of pumpkin juice in one go, before wiping his mouth on his sleeve.

"Wow, it's really quiet in here- even the Slytherins aren't kicking up a fuss," he commented. Harry nodded in agreement.

"That's true. You'd have thought Malfoy would have made some crass comment," he replied. Hermione glanced over at the Slytherin table.

"He might well have done, if he had Crabbe or Goyle to make it to," she said. Harry looked over, and saw that Crabbe and Goyle appeared to be blanking him.

"How very odd," he said, mostly to himself. Ron nodded.

"It is, isn't it?" he replied. "If it wasn't for Dumbledore, I'd probably be finding it funny about now."

Suddenly, a witch and a wizard entered the Great Hall, and they definitely weren't teachers. Harry could see that they sported dark green robes trimmed with gold, along with dark green pointed hats. The witch, who had short curls of black hair poking out from underneath her hat, was carrying what appeared to be a notebook and quill, and the wizard, whose hat managed to obscure all of his hair, was carrying a leather satchel, his wand sticking out of the top. They walked towards the High Table, and Persephone got up to greet them. It was when they reached her that Harry saw the initials 'M.M.D' printed onto the back of their robes in gold lettering.

"Oh, it's the Magical Murder Department- the forensics wizards!" Hermione said, nudging Harry as she did so.

"Bloody hell, it really must be suspicious, then," Ron commented, through a mouthful of toast. "Dad says they never usually go and share their findings; they just chuck a written report at you."

"Wow- an actual murder at school. My mate goes to a well rough comprehensive in Brixton, and even he has yet to have an actual murder at school," Dean commented.

Harry watched as the green-robed witch spoke to Persephone, who nodded now and then in understanding, though she looked horrified by what she was being told. The other teachers looked equally appalled, and Snape and McGonagall exchanged glances again. The wizard began to speak, pointing at his satchel as he did so; Harry assumed he was explaining the technical aspects of what they had found. Then, the witch said something to all the teachers, and then more specifically to Snape, who got up and followed them out of the Great Hall. Every single student present stared, open-mouthed, as they left.

"Told you," Jeremy Archer said to some nearby first-years. "They've arrested him!"

"No they haven't, Jeremy," Hermione replied, "I think they're just questioning him."

"Same difference, surely, Hermione?" he retorted, although the retort took the form of a question.

"Not really- I'd imagine they'd have to question a lot of people," Hermione explained, and Jeremy seemed satisfied by her reply, as though she were some omniscient being when it came to the workings of the Magical Murder Department.

At that point, McGonagall stood up and addressed the students in the hall.

"Excuse me, children," she said, in authoritative tones that didn't disguise her sadness. "I have been asked to advise you that representatives of the Magical Murder Department will be asking questions of some of you. Please don't panic, they merely want to find out everything they can about Professor Dumbledore's last moments. I ask you to cooperate with them, and if you think you know of anything that may be of interest to them, they will be in the third floor classroom- and please remember to knock!"

The silence of the students was lifted by this announcement, and they all began to chat animatedly about the new state of affairs.

"Wow, what would we know about it all?" Jeremy asked Hermione, suddenly.

"I expect the Magical Murder Department just want to know if we've seen him walking around before the feast last night or the like, so they can develop a picture of his last moments that may help shed some light on the situation," she replied, casually. Jeremy nodded.

"It's really sad he died," he continued to Hermione, "he was a hero- no, an absolute legend!" He shrugged his shoulders. "I suppose every hero has an enemy, though."

"That's very philosophical, Jeremy," Hermione replied. Jeremy beamed.

"Thanks!" he said, before joining a few of the first-year Gryffindors who were leaving the hall to go to classes. Harry noticed that Ron was glaring angrily at his timetable.

"Typical! Just typical!" he grumbled, hotly.

"What's the matter?" Hermione asked. Ron pointed at their next lesson, which was in an hour.

"We've got Potions, predictably after Snape has been questioned by the MMD- just great! He's going to be in a foul mood!"

"He might not be," Ginny pointed out. "They might prove he wasn't involved, and they'll be nothing to worry about."

Neville hooted with laughter.

"The Hogwarts Potions teacher, questioned about a poisoning? I doubt he'll be cleared that quickly," he replied.

Harry looked at his watch as he sat with Ron in the dungeon classroom for their Potions lesson, and was beginning to think Neville had been right. Snape was currently ten minutes late for their lesson, and Harry could hear Terry Boot comment to Hermione about some unwritten rule that if the teacher is more than ten minutes late for a lesson, they could all leave.

"That sounds like a good idea," Ron whispered to Harry.

"Aren't you supposed to set a good example, as Head Boy?" Harry asked. Ron shrugged.

"Yeah- and what better example could I set than leading the class to freedom from our Potions lesson?" he replied, blithely.

Suddenly, the door to the classroom flew open and nearly came off its hinges, before slamming shut by the sheer physics of thrust far outweighing friction. Snape stalked in like a man possessed, and stood in front of his desk, his lips peculiarly thin and his facial expression even more sour than usual.

"Right," he snapped, "we're covering Truth Potions today- though nothing as potent as Veritaserum. Can anyone tell me what the basic components of a Truth Potion are?"

He tapped his foot impatiently.

"Well, come on! You must have picked at least something up for last year that wasn't lost to the dark recesses of your tiny little minds in the course of the six week holidays!" he spat, as he began to pace the classroom. Harry saw Hermione look around at the class- none of whom were offering their wisdom- before raising her hand. Snape glared at her.

"This had better be good, Miss Granger," he said, in an irritated tone of voice.

"Jobberknoll feathers, which can also be used for memory potions..."

"Thank you Miss Granger- did I ask you about memory potions?" he asked, glaring at her.

"N... No, sir," she replied, quietly. Snape said nothing in return; instead he snapped his fingers and pointed at the blackboard.

"Right, the instructions are on the board, you'll find everything you require either in the student store cupboard or your own supplies, now get on!" he ordered, hotly.

The class remained silent and immobile. One or two of them were moving uncomfortably in their seats. The Slytherins were casting worried looks at one another.

"Well?" Snape spat. "What are you all sitting around like particularly distasteful statues for?" he demanded. The class glanced at each other. Eventually, Hermione timidly raised her hand.

"Sir?" she said, and Harry could tell it required every ounce of her mental strength and courage not to stammer.

"What is it, Miss Granger?" he snarled. Hermione pointed towards the blackboard.

"There isn't anything written on the blackboard," she replied, and Harry was aware of the fact she didn't point out that it was because Snape hadn't written anything there. Snape's face flushed with colour for a brief second, and he pulled out his wand, conjuring some writing on the blackboard.

"Right, there you are- no excuses, get working!" he bellowed, before sitting at his desk and pretending to mark some papers.

In hindsight, Harry started to think that Terry and Ron's suggestion of leaving their Potions classroom might have been a good move. Try as he might to concentrate on the task in hand, Harry couldn't help but notice how stressed out Snape looked, and he imagined it had something to do with the Magical Murder Department. It was clear from how late he was to their lesson that they'd been speaking to him for some time.

"Harry, have you cut up those ginger roots yet?" Ron asked, as he scraped a bunch of crushed bubotuber buds off his chopping board and into their simmering cauldron.

"Sorry, Ron," Harry replied, and hastily began to chop up the roots. He wondered exactly why Snape was so furious- the Magical Murder Department had obviously decided he was a suspect in Dumbledore's death, but something was bothering Harry about his behaviour. What would he have to be so angry about, unless he thought he was close to getting caught? The wine glass, the trip to the apothecary in Diagon Alley... it all seemed a bit dubious, considering the man's reputation.

"What's up, Harry?" Ron asked, as Harry's knife slipped and he almost cut off his little finger instead of his ginger roots.

"I was just thinking," he replied. "You know, about the questioning. I'm starting to see that Jeremy kid's point of view..."

Ron looked at him warily.

"Harry, don't go and throw a wobbly in this lesson- Snape's fuming as it is!"

Harry glared at Ron defiantly.

"What, you think he might give me a detention?" he asked, sarcastically. "He's got it in for me anyway; always has done."

Ron grimaced slightly.

"I wasn't thinking of a detention," he replied, uneasily. "I was thinking he might give himself a real reason to get questioned by the Magical Murder Department- he's close to losing it completely!"

Harry chanced a quick look up at Snape's desk, and saw his greasy-haired Potions teacher fix his essays with a glare that suggested he was seconds away from attempting to disembowel them, whether the action was physiologically possible or not.

"I see your point," Harry replied, as he finished cutting up his ginger roots with considerably more care, in order to avoid losing a finger.

"Then again, Snape might feel better if we mess up our potion- it'll give him something to legitimately bellyache over," Ron pointed out, and it took Harry all of his mental energy not to burst out laughing.

To Harry's utter surprise, Snape only walked around the students once, offering caustic remarks to those unfortunate enough to have the slightest of changes in colour or viscosity of their potions. Hermione and Terry were greeted with a contemptuous snort, but no further comments, which suggested to Harry that Snape could find nothing about their potion to criticise, and was thoroughly annoyed about the fact. By the time Harry and Ron had poured their potion into a flask for marking, Snape was busy checking his watch, and didn't seem too bothered whether he received anything from his class or not. However, when one of the Ravenclaw members of the class tried to slip away at the end of the lesson without handing in his work, he received a hefty detention.

"Bloody hell, that was hard work!" Ron complained, as they left the dungeons. Harry nodded.

"Snape was in an even worse mood than usual- if that's possible," he replied.

"He was distracted," Hermione added. Ron looked askance at her.

"You what?" he asked. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"He'd just been questioned for most likely well over an hour by the Magical Murder Department. I think I'd feel a little under pressure, if I was in his shoes," she replied.

"Oh, there you go, sticking up for the git again," Ron complained. "I'm starting to think you've got a crush on him. What's that thing Muggles talk about, when someone's saved a life, and the saved person gets feelings for them because they interpret the act as one of affection..."

Hermione's expression registered an odd mixture of disgust and bewilderment.

"Florence Nightingale Effect. Or possibly Transference. And don't be ridiculous, Ron- I'm just trying to see things from his point of view," she replied, evenly.

"What have you got next, Hermione?" Harry asked, in an attempt to change the subject. Hermione fished out her timetable from her school bag and looked at it.

"Hmm, I've got Arithmancy in an hour, and Transfiguration this afternoon. Monday's are a bit busy for me," she said. Ron craned his neck over her shoulder to read her timetable.

"What is it, Ron?" Hermione huffed. Ron grinned.

"Just checking to see if you've drawn a little heart with your first name and his surname in the Potions lessons slot," he quipped, which resulted in Hermione slapping him on the arm with some force.

They had reached the second floor, and were about to head up the staircase to Gryffindor Tower, when Harry saw Persephone walking towards them. She was accompanied by the witch from the Magical Murder Department, and appeared to be chatting with her quite comfortably.

"...That's understandable, I've no problem with that," she said to the witch, who frowned.

"Professor Snape didn't seem too pleased about the whole affair," she replied. Persephone smiled.

"I rather think Professor Snape takes offence to anything he perceives as besmirching his good name... Hi, guys- how's your first day going?" Persephone asked Harry, Ron and Hermione. Ron groaned.

"We've just had Potions," he replied. Persephone offered him one of her lop-sided smiles.

"I know it's your least favourite lesson, but at least you've got it out of the way now," she replied, before looking around the corridor.

"Here, I don't suppose you three could do me a favour?" she asked.

"Sure, what is it?" Harry asked. Persephone gestured to the witch standing next to her, who Harry thought for a moment he recognised.

"Well, Miss Clearwater here has been chatting to me about my whereabouts for the past couple of days. Now, seeing as I'm fairly skilled in Occlumency, she really could do with a few eyewitnesses to verify my story. Would you be able to chat with her?" she asked.

Ron stared at Miss Clearwater for a moment.

"Penelope Clearwater?" he more stated than asked, though the name was phrased in the tone of a question.

"Yeah, that's right," Penelope replied. "You're Percy's little brother, aren't you?"

Harry suddenly realised where he had recognised her from. She had been the Head Girl when Harry, Ron and Hermione were in their third year, and had been one of the pupils petrified by the Basilisk's stare. He wondered for a moment what was different about her, and then realised that she wore her curly hair a lot shorter than she did when she was at school.

"Yeah," Ron replied, with obvious discomfort.

"How is he?" Hermione asked, at which Ron narrowed his eyes a little. Penelope shrugged.

"He's alright, I suppose," she said. "A little miffed he's lost his job as Junior Assistant to the Minister for Magic, but then again, I suppose it'd be a bit weird working for your dad," she replied.

"What's he doing now?" Hermione asked, when it became clear that neither Harry nor Ron were going to contribute to the conversation. Penelope smiled.

"Oh, he's working in the Ministry still," she explained, "part of Magical Law and Enforcement at the moment. Only a trainee position, mind- it requires a lot of extra study to get in properly. We're sharing a place with a couple of my friends."

"That's nice, isn't it?" Hermione replied, surreptitiously kicking Ron in the shins with the back of her heel. He winced for a moment.

"Yeah- charming," he managed to say.

Penelope smiled, and looked at the three of them in an altogether more professional manner.

"So, will you be able to answer a few questions for me?" she asked. Harry shrugged.

"Yeah, sure," he replied. Persephone clapped him on the back.

"Good lad," she said, as she walked down the corridor, then back tracked to face them again.

"How was Professor Snape in your lesson?" she asked, suddenly. Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged glances, and Ron looked as though he was about to reply, but was silenced by Hermione's piercing glare.

"He was... edgy," she replied, carefully. Persephone grimaced slightly.

"Right- I'd better go and see him," she replied, "he told me to check in once the interview was over."

Penelope looked nonplussed by this statement.

"Professor Snape? He never struck me as the type to be so concerned, not when I studied here, anyway," she said. Persephone shrugged.

"He's been assigned as my teaching mentor- I think he feels a grudging responsibility as to my welfare," she replied, breezily, and Harry once again envied the way in which she could talk her way out of a situation without so much as a nervous sideways glance.

"Do you know what's happened? With Dumbledore?" Hermione asked. Persephone scratched her head, then leant in to whisper to the three of them.

"I probably shouldn't share this... you don't mind, do you, Penelope?" she asked, and the woman in question shook her head.

"It's the one thing we're sure of," she replied. Persephone smiled.

"It was poison," she explained. "A compound of Conium maculatum, more commonly known as..."

"Hemlock liquor," Hermione finished. Persephone looked impressed.

"Here, next time I even find myself in a pub on quiz night, I want you in my team," she joked, before waving goodbye and heading off towards the dungeons.

"Well, would you three like to follow me, then?" Penelope asked, and Harry, Ron and Hermione obeyed her instruction. They ascended another flight of stairs, and Penelope ushered them into an unused classroom along the corridor.

The room was empty, save for a few desks and chairs, and of course, Penelope's colleague. Harry saw that the wizard was tinkering with some sort of gadget with a large red arrow attached to its top. He had cast some sort of charm over it, and was saying things such as, "My name is Dorian Underwood," whilst ensuring that the needle didn't move. On seeing Penelope, Harry, Ron and Hermione, he stood up, and Harry could see he wasn't much taller than Penelope.

"Oh, hello," he said, holding out his hand. "I'm Dorian Underwood, how do you do?"

He shook their hands firmly, and invited them to sit down, which they did.

"Right, could I just take your full names please?"

"Harry James Potter."

"Ronald Bilius Weasley."

"Hermione Jane Granger."

Dorian scribbled their names down with a quill that had clearly been chewed at the end.

"Right, excellent. Now, I assume Miss Clearwater explained why you're here?" He left the statement hanging, and so Harry nodded in the hope that he would proceed.

"Well," Dorian continued, "all we want to do is ask you a few questions, in order to verify a few statements we've already received. Nothing to worry about- we're not looking to haul you into Azkaban just yet!" He laughed at his own joke, and only Hermione managed to smile weakly in return. Dorian coughed a little, before looking down at his sheet of parchment.

"Right, could each of you tell me where you were between the hours of half past three and quarter to five on the 31^st August?"

Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged glances for a moment, before Harry spoke.

"We were at Diagon Alley. We met Per... Professor Beauchamp in the Leaky Cauldron," he replied. Dorian frowned at him.

"You met one of your professors in the pub?" he asked, incredulously. Harry nodded.

"We just happened to bump into her; she's pretty friendly," he lied. Dorian looked sceptical.

"My boyfriend is friends with her- they went to the same school together," Hermione hastily added. Dorian seemed to accept this, and he scribbled something down on his sheet of parchment.

Ron looked askance at her.

"Oh, so Krum's your boyfriend now, is he?" he accused, mulishly. Hermione glared at him.

"Do be quiet, Ron," she retorted, in an odd sounding voice. Penelope's ears had almost pricked up at this.

"Ooh, do you mean Viktor Krum?" she asked, girlishly. Hermione nodded.

"We met up over the holidays, but we've been writing to each other for about two years now, ever since the Triwizard Tournament at Hogwarts," she replied. Ron grunted.

"So? You've exchanged a few letters- it hardly makes you married!" he retorted. Penelope looked at Hermione quizzically.

"Has he bought you any of the following- flowers, jewellery or transport?" she asked

"He bought me a necklace when we were at Diagon Alley," Hermione replied, fingering something around her neck underneath her robes. Penelope gave her an impish smile.

"Then he's a boyfriend," she replied, knowingly.

Dorian looked a little peeved.

"Can we get back to the interview please?" he asked, snappishly. Penelope blushed a little.

"Sorry, Dorian," she replied. Dorian nodded his appreciation.

"Right, and how long were you at the Leaky Cauldron for?" Dorian asked.

"About an hour," Ron replied. Dorian scribbled yet more notes onto his parchment.

"What happened after that- did Professor Beauchamp leave first, or did you?" he asked.

"She left first," Ron replied, "with Professor Snape."

"Um huh," Dorian mumbled, scribbling something else down.

"Did they leave alone?" Penelope asked. Ron shook his head.

"No. They left with Tonks... Nymphadora Tonks, she's an Auror. Dad knows her," he explained, and Dorian's writing hand was moving speedily across the parchment.

"Anyone else?" Penelope asked.

"Yeah, Alex- a friend of Professor Beauchamp's," Harry replied.

"Does he have a surname?" Dorian piped up.

"She," Harry corrected him.

"Does she have a surname?" Dorian repeated.

"I'm not sure," Harry lied. He and Ron exchanged glances.

"Oh, I know," Ron said, clicking his fingers. "Ridley. Alex Ridley. Dad knows her, too."

Dorian scribbled for a moment longer, then chewed on the end of his quill for a moment.

"What about before you were in the Leaky Cauldron?" he asked. "You must have been getting school supplies, I'd suspect. Where else did you go?"

Harry thought hard about this.

"Well, we went to Quality Quidditch Supplies to meet Viktor," he explained, "then we went to this little shop- Viktor bought Hermione something there..."

"And you bought a chess set for..." Ron swiftly ground to a halt.

"Hermione's birthday. It was a surprise, except that now she knows," Harry hastily interrupted. Hermione sniggered, and both Dorian and Penelope seemed to think it was because of Harry's admission, which was fine by him.

"Then we went to the Apothecary," Ron added. "We saw Snape there, getting ingredients for the school year."

"How do you know this? Did you speak to him?" Dorian asked, suddenly interested. Ron shook his head.

"Nah- heard him talking to the apothecary... Well, listening to the apothecary," he corrected himself.

"Did you happen to hear what he bought?" Dorian asked, and Penelope glared at him.

"Erm... just school supplies- oh, hang about. There was some yeast, ethanol and..." he trailed off.

"And?" Dorian encouraged.

"And some hemlock," Ron finished, quietly. Dorian began to scribble on his parchment again, this time with more enthusiasm. Hermione was frowning.

"You think he did it, don't you?" she more stated than asked, staring hard at Dorian, who coloured under her glare.

"I don't think anything. I merely look at the facts, and arrive to the most logical conclusion," he replied, cautiously. Hermione's frown didn't change. Penelope touched her gently on the arm.

"We won't jump to any conclusions- we don't know enough yet to say conclusively who, if anyone, was to blame," she replied, and Hermione appeared placated by her words.

Dorian stood up suddenly.

"Well, I think that's plenty of information to verify... yes- thank you for your time," he said, shaking their hands. Penelope showed them to the door.

"I guess it looks as though Jeremy Archer was right after all," Harry said. "Snape bought some hemlock, slipped it into Dumbledore's goblet at the feast, he had all those symptoms, and then..."

"Yeah," Ron replied, as they walked down the corridor. "Still, at least Persephone's in the clear, though."

"Not really," Harry replied, "we've only proven that she was with us when she said she was. Anyway, remember Mudungus Fletcher was trying to get rid of that Hemlock liquor he'd 'acquired'?" He mimed inverted commas with his fingers. "What if Persephone did buy it, for the Brethren? What if they know she's got some, if she has?"

Ron patted him on the shoulder.

"That's a lot of 'what ifs'," he replied, sagely, as he looked across at Hermione, who seemed deep in thought.

"You okay?" he asked. Hermione shook her head.

"No," she replied, curtly.

"What's up?" Harry asked. Hermione sighed heavily.

"It just all seems... wrong, somehow," she replied. "I find it really difficult to believe two of our teachers are suspects for Dumbledore's death."

Ron shrugged his shoulders.

"I suppose, if you think about it, that it's not that daft. Dumbledore drank wine at the High Table before the feast, all the teachers there had access to it, he keeled over during his speech- common sense tells you it has to be someone who was sat around him then. I mean, we only saw him briefly, and it's not like he was drinking then," he replied.

Suddenly, Hermione's eyes lit up, as though someone had lit a torch in her mind.

"I'll meet you in the common room after Arithmancy!" she said, hurriedly.

"What's the matter?" Ron asked. Hermione looked at him.

"I'll explain later. I've got to catch them," she replied, quickly, before running back down the corridor towards the unused classroom they had walked out of just minutes ago.

"What was all that about?" Harry asked. Ron rolled his eyes.

"Beats me," he replied. "This is Hermione we're talking about. She'll wrangle the last possible moment of suspense out of this, just to wind us up."

"Somehow, I don't think she's that intent on winding us up," Harry replied.

"Seems to be all she's done since your birthday," Ron said under his breath, and Harry thought it might be best to pretend that he didn't hear him.