The Man of the Moment

Chapter Eight: The Show Must Go On

By the time Harry had got to the Transfiguration classroom, he had already passed Peeves, the mischievous poltergeist, about three times, each of which he sang his new ditty about the suspected murder of Dumbledore at the top of his voice, slightly off key.

"A drop of Hemlock in a smidgen of wine, old Dumbledore's now reached the end of the line!" he sang gleefully on the second floor, until Persephone stormed out of her office to him to tell him to be quiet, at which he screamed and zoomed off in the opposite direction. Harry couldn't help but grimace, for all the ghosts in Hogwarts disliked going anywhere near Persephone, even Nearly-Headless Nick, who was generally quite friendly. As Augustine Dougherty, Persephone's friend and colleague in the Brethren of Tyr, had once said, "She carries the stench of death with her; which is something the dead cannot stand."

Finally, as he entered the classroom, he saw Ron and Hermione sat in their usual seats mid-way from McGonagall's desk, towards the left.

"Where have you been?" Harry asked Hermione, as he sat down. Hermione smiled.

"I went to talk to Penelope and Dorian again," she replied. "Took longer than I thought it would- I had to go back and speak to them after Arithmancy."

"Well, what did you tell them?" Ron urged. Hermione looked around to make sure nobody was watching them.

"I told them what happened when we bumped into Dumbledore before the feast. How he offered you a sweet, Ron, and you said they tasted fine, while Dumbledore complained they tasted bitter," she replied. Harry was flummoxed.

"Why?" he asked. Hermione sighed.

"Because, Dumbledore claimed things had been tasting funny all day. Many poisons, especially Hemlock Liquor, usually leave a bitter taste, which can be confused with having brushed your teeth, or having eaten something pungent earlier. In this case, I thought it may well be possible that Dumbledore had been poisoned that morning," she explained.

"So?" Ron asked.

"So, it absolves Snape and Persephone of guilt- they were on the train with us, remember? Plenty of people saw them," she replied.

"That was at eleven o'clock," Harry said, sadly. "It doesn't cover the earlier hours, and I'm sure Dumbledore is an early riser."

"Well, I suppose it at least gives them an idea of how long the poison took," she said, evidently crushed by this realisation.

"Now, class," came McGonagall's stern voice. "Today we will be looking at animal to mineral transfigurations, whilst keeping the mind of the creature. Can anybody tell me why this might be useful in any way?"

Hermione's hand shot up.

"Yeah, Miss Granger?"

"Well, if the technique is researched enough, it may be possible to perform human to object transfigurations, with the human retaining their senses and mental capacity. This could prove useful for spying," she replied. There was a murmur around the class, and McGonagall looked deeply impressed.

"That... that wasn't the answer I was looking for, Miss Granger, but that is indeed an excellent application for the technique- I certainly hadn't thought of it myself. Thirty points to Gryffindor. Any one else?"

Harry was stunned. McGonagall, in all the history of the seven years she had taught him, had never handed out thirty points in one go for answering a question in class. Hermione looked as pleased as punch, her cheeks colouring up a slight shade of pink. Harry was even more stunned when he noticed McGonagall surreptitiously note something down on a piece of parchment very soon after, which she slipped into her drawer.

Neville raised his hand. McGonagall nodded for him to answer.

"Yes, Mr. Longbottom?"

"Turning birds into inanimate objects has traditionally been used so that if an intruder enters a house by breaking through its wards, the bird can hoot and alert the owner, as a last line of defence," he replied, a little timidly.

"That's correct, Neville, ten points to Gryffindor," she replied. Harry looked around the class, who were eagerly taking down notes, and noticed that Draco was giving Hermione and Neville evil looks. He quickly noticed Harry staring at him, for he glared back and scowled, though he said nothing. Not that it would have gone unnoticed, seeing as McGonagall was now talking about the inherent difficulties in changing an animal to a mineral without permanent damage to the organism whilst she was standing right next to Draco's desk.

Soon enough, the class were engaged in the process of turning frogs into photo frames that actually croaked if you stroked the lower edge of the frame. Hermione predictably handled the task with ease, and Ron eventually caved in and asked her to help him, which Harry thought was a wise move, seeing as his photo frame kept jumping off the table.

"Ron, you're just not concentrating hard enough! Try and visualise in your head what you want to achieve- it helps me," she suggested. Ron grimaced.

"Easy enough for you to say, you haven't got Malfoy leering at you as though you've just split up with him, or something," he replied, jerking his head towards Draco, who was indeed glaring at him.

"Not again," Hermione sighed. "Hasn't he anything better to do? Like perhaps today's work?"

Professor Sprout entered the classroom, smiled at McGonagall and handed her a piece of parchment, before walking out without so much as a word. Harry watched as McGonagall looked at the parchment in her hands, read it over a couple of times, then looked a little surprised.

"Excuse me, class," she announced. The entire class stopped what they were doing, and turned to face her.

McGonagall cleared her throat.

"It has been left to me to inform you that I will be stepping down from my position as Transfiguration teacher..."

There were murmurs of surprise from the students in the class, which McGonagall spoke over in a slightly raised voice.

"...in order for me to become acting Headmistress of this school on a permanent basis. However, I will continue to teach you until a suitable replacement for the position can be found.

The murmurs increased in volume at this remark.

"I bet McGonagall will carry on teaching us until the end of this school year, then- think about how much trouble it is to get half-way decent Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers!" Ron exclaimed.

"Transfiguration might not be so difficult, though," Hermione mused. "After all, as far as I'm aware, there are no rumours of the position being cursed."

"Professor?" Neville piped up. McGonagall surveyed him neutrally.

"Yes, Mr. Longbottom?"

"Will you still be our Head of House?" he asked. McGonagall took of her glasses, wiped them with her handkerchief, and shook her head.

"I'm afraid not, Mr. Longbottom," she replied, placing her glasses back on. "We are still holding meetings and assessing the staff at the moment, but my replacement will be announced sometime tomorrow morning. You will be required to return to the Gryffindor common-room after breakfast in order to find out- I will put an announcement on the notice-board later this evening."

The Gryffindors in the class began to talk anxiously amongst themselves. Harry personally wasn't too worried; for whoever they got as their Head of House, at least it wouldn't be Snape, who was already Head of Slytherin House.

Draco raised his hand.

"Professor, seeing as you're the Deputy Head of the school, and you're now becoming the Headmistress; who's going to take your place? Who will be the new Deputy Head?" he asked. McGonagall folded the piece of parchment in her hands and placed it into her robe pocket.

"I believe the new Deputy Head will be Professor Snape, Mr. Malfoy," she replied. The Slytherins in the class began to chatter animatedly about this new turn of events. Harry, however, was not so pleased.

"Great," he grumbled to Ron and Hermione. "If he's the new Deputy-Head, then if McGonagall ever dies, he'll be Headmaster! How awful would that be?"

Ron picked his runaway photo frame up off the floor and placed it back on his desk.

"Well, I reckon McGonagall will suddenly find herself in a suspicious accident, then," Ron remarked, caustically.

"Ron!" Hermione scolded.

"Oh, come off it! He'll grab the first chance he gets," Ron complained, grabbing his photo-frame and holding it to prevent it from escaping again. "He'd just love that- he'd get to expel Harry without any consequences!"

"Thanks, Ron, that's really comforting," Harry replied, sardonically, as he turned his photo-frame back into a frog. It appeared, that for all his previous accidents in Transfiguration, where he had turned a plethora of woodland creatures into object-organism hybrids as opposed to genuine, complete transfigurations, the one time that he was required to produce something that resembled all his previous mistakes was the one time he could actually perform a complete transfiguration on the first attempt. He chalked the whole thing down to irony and instead listened to Hermione logically explain how little Snape would have to gain from Harry's expulsion, and Ron's repetition of the phrase 'Florence Nightingale Effect'.

Once their lesson had finished, and the three of them made their way down to the Great Hall for dinner, Harry had made a mental tally of the number of times Ron had accused Hermione of suffering from 'Florence Nightingale Effect'. The total amounted to twenty-seven, and Hermione had become so irritated by the whole affair that she had made a beeline for Ginny almost as soon as they reached the Hall.

"Ron, why don't you just give it a rest?" Harry suggested, himself getting rather tired of the discussion. Ron shrugged.

"At least when she's annoyed she isn't thinking about all the sympathetic looks she keeps getting every time she enters the Great Hall," he replied, pointedly. Harry looked around and saw various students look at her and nudge each other, and he saw Ron's point, despite the fact he was fairly certain there must be better ways to distract her.

Not that Hermione's escape from the Death Eaters was the main topic of conversation anymore- the empty seat at the centre of the High Table saw to that. Dinner was subdued amongst both the staff and the students, except that the students had managed to occupy themselves with all manner of wild theories about their former Headmaster's death.

"It was the Potions master, I'm telling you!" Jeremy Archer protested, although Harry noticed that when Hermione looked at him, his declarations became much quieter.

"Yeah, but maybe that's what someone wants you to think?" Dennis Creevey suggested. "It'd be easy to pin the blame on Snape- he most likely has the ability to make almost any poison..."

"And he is a git," Ron added.

"But do you really think he'd be dumb enough to use it here? He'd be the first suspect!" Colin Creevey finished.

"And he was," Hermione pointed out, between sips of her pumpkin juice.

"What about Sprout?" Dean offered. "She knows about plants- they can be poisonous..."

"Don't be silly!" Neville interjected, which resulted in a barrage of teasing from Dean.

"Neville and Sprout, sitting in a tree..." he sang. Ginny slapped him on the arm.

"Dean, grow up," she said, smoothly, which silenced Dean, although he raised an eyebrow at her.

"Ooh, the kitten's got claws- I like it!" he mocked, which earned him another reproachful look from Ginny.

"What about Beauchamp, the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher?" Caroline Davis suggested. "She is a bit weird- the last five minutes of the lesson she had us sitting cross-legged..."

"No way," Harry said, before he'd even realised the words had escaped his lips. "She wouldn't have done it."

"Why not?" Jack Sloper countered. "She's only been here a year; it's not like she'd form any close attachment to him. Anyway, who's to know she isn't working for You-Know-Who? And I saw her make Professor Flitwick laugh- and guess what he didn't drink as a consequence? Maybe she poisoned the whole wine casket and endeavoured to make just Dumbledore drink it?"

"Maybe she was in cahoots with Snape?" Seamus added. "They do seem a bit, well... odd. Something's going on there, I'll tell you that for nothing!"

Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny exchanged glances.

"Going on?" Harry asked, though he was afraid the answer might make him feel ill. Seamus raised an eyebrow.

"You know- the awkwardness around each other, the bickering- it's just like..." He trailed off suddenly, averting his eyes from where Ron and Hermione were silently fighting over a bread roll.

"Don't be ridiculous!" Ginny spluttered. "I can tell you from a female perspective that nothing like that is going on."

Jeremy Archer put two fingers into his mouth and began to make fake vomiting noises.

"Who said it was a teacher?" Ron offered. "It could have been a student."

Every last Gryffindor within earshot turned and looked at the Slytherin table. Harry in particular scrutinised Draco, who was talking quietly with Pansy Parkinson, and occasionally looking up at the High Table, in Snape's direction.

"Yeah," Harry said, "It could have been."

"They are an unpleasant lot," Neville commented. Jeremy shook his head fervently.

"Szeto's cool," he countered. "I was partnered with him for Defence Against the Dark Arts today- he was a right laugh. It was well funny- he was teaching me all these rude phrases in Cantonese, which his mum speaks, and we both sat around saying them during the lesson. Got the fright of our lives when Beauchamp said something back to Szeto in the same language- poor guy was so shocked, he nearly hit Rachel Josephs in the face with his wand. Comedy," he finished, wiping tears of laughter away from his eyes with the sleeve of his robes.

"Maybe you had to be there," Ginny replied, still scrutinising the Slytherin table. Harry also continued to look, and it soon became apparent that Crabbe and Goyle were still steadfastly ignoring Draco.

"What would a student possibly have to gain from killing the headmaster, except expulsion and life in Azkaban?" Hermione asked. Jeremy nodded.

"She's right," he replied, as though his opinion would further validate Hermione's, which amused Harry to no end.

"A lot, if that student is a Death Eater in training," Harry commented, darkly. Ron sniggered.

"What, do you honestly think they recruit Death Eaters fresh from school? That they have some kind of Graduate Training Scheme, or an Internship?" He began to laugh a little more loudly. "I can just imagine the psychometric tests- just remember to tick the boxes that say 'I enjoy killing people of a different heritage to myself'."

Hermione looked at him, aghast.

"Ron!" he remonstrated. He shrugged an apology.

"I'm sorry- I didn't mean to belittle the suggestion; I just thought the mental image was kind of surreal. I do apologise," Ron replied, offering Hermione an exaggerated bow, but Harry could tell he meant it. Hermione rolled her eyes, but couldn't suppress a smile.

"Well, I can't imagine anybody coming out with a suggestion that could be more tasteless than that one," she replied, at which point Dean pulled out a large blue leather-bound book.

"Right- if anybody would like to place a bet as to who the murderer might be, please do. We have Professor Snape as the favourite, with a three to one chance of being the culprit, closely followed by Professor Beauchamp and Professor McGonagall, with odds on at five to one and eleven to two respectively..."

"I stand corrected," Hermione retorted. "You know we can't let you do this, Dean," she warned, whilst looking at Dean reproachfully. He smiled winsomely at her.

"Oh, come on, Hermione, it's just a bit of fun," he pleaded, but Hermione looked resolute.

"Dean, this is a serious murder enquiry! You can't just open a book up on it!" she exclaimed.

"I'm afraid she's right, Dean," Ron replied, at which Hermione looked very pleased.

"However," Ron continued, "what we don't know can't hurt, right? So just keep it well hidden and we'll say no more about it, hey?"

"Cheers, Ron," Dean replied, gleefully, while Hermione glared at Ron with abject fury.

"Can I have a look, Dean?" Harry asked, and Dean handed him the leather-bound book.

"Sure thing," he replied. "I'm thinking of setting up a bunch of bets in this little baby- watch this!"

He waved his wand, and all the statistics for the aptly named 'Educator Eliminators' disappeared and were replaced by Transfiguration notes. Dean waved his and a second time, and the book reverted to its original text.

"Pretty cool, huh?" he said, beaming. Harry nodded enthusiastically.

"Yeah, it is," he replied, as he scanned along Dean's list of possible suspects.

Professor S. Snape:

Pros- Potions teacher, knows much about poisons.

Handed Dumbledore glass of wine, which he drank before he died.

Has threatened to poison Neville's toad Trevor on numerous occasions.

Nasty git.

Cons- Too obvious. Why kill someone with a potion if you are known for brewing them?

Been on staff for fifteen years. Would surely have been ratted out as suspicious before now.

Odds- 3/1 favourite

Professor P. Beauchamp

Pros- Unknown entity, only been on staff for a year.

Ghosts won't go near her, would be less likely to acquire ethereal witnesses.

Only Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher to last longer than a year for the past seven years possible she is dark enough to evade rumoured mystic sorcery acting upon those who take the position.

Cons- Way too cool to use a poison, would probably slice head open in front of school instead.

Got hurt protecting us last year, why bother if you're working for Voldemort?

Only Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher to last longer than a year for the past seven years must have strong character to do so, for most deviants are ratted out within the year.

Odds- 5/1

Professor M. McGonagall

Pros- Act would most likely result in her promotion

Cons- Head of Gryffindor House, is too noble to kill for power.

Would most likely transfigure enemy into a paperweight anyway, as she had been threatening to do to me when I last handed in an incomplete piece of homework.

Odds- 11/2

Professor P. Sprout

Pros- Knows about plants, therefore must know about poisonous plants.

Cons- Neville fancies her...

Suddenly, Harry's reading was interrupted by an icy voice.

"What do you think you're doing, Potter?" Snape asked, in a low, menacing whisper. Harry thought fast. He could try to protest his innocence, but Snape would never believe him, plus it would mean getting Dean into trouble, and by the ashen look on his face, Harry thought that he probably wouldn't be able to cope with it.

"Reading, sir," Harry replied, nonchalantly, hoping to buy himself a little thinking time. Snape glared at him, and snatched the book out of his hands.

"I daresay you are, Potter," he replied maliciously. "You appear to have been doing a lot of that. However, reading a detailed analysis on the likelihood of which member of staff has murdered our former headmaster- fascinating as it may be, does not make for appropriate reading. Now, to whom does it belong?"

"I... I don't know, sir," Harry lied. "We found it lying on the first floor corridor."

Snape looked unconvinced, and leant over so he was eye to eye with Harry.

"Somehow, I find that hard to believe," he sneered, whilst staring deep into Harry's eyes. Harry knew what he was up to, and his first thought was to look away. Then he remembered the weeks of training he had received from Persephone, and he stared back.

The first thing Harry noticed was that Snape's methods were nothing like Persephone's. She had a more passive, surreptitious way of insinuating her way into your memories, whereas Snape was far more aggressive in his approach in Legilmency. Harry concentrated hard and tried to will Snape into perusing through an entirely different area of his memories- flashes of innocuous scenes from Quidditch practice last year, with Roger Davies pulling his hair out over various training matches. It didn't last long though, for Harry soon felt an almighty surge run through his brain, and he fought to slow its progress.

After what felt like aeons, Snape pulled his piercing stare away from Harry.

"Thomas, detention, tomorrow evening," he barked, and Dean looked stunned.

"Why?" he spluttered. Snape turned to face him.

"For producing this book, besmirching the good names of many faculty members, and because I feel like it," he replied, smoothly. "That would, no doubt, be in keeping with my being a 'nasty git', as you so eloquently put it."

Dean said nothing, though he looked crestfallen as Snape bundled his leather-bound book under his arm.

"Potter, detention tonight, for lying. You can keep Miss Weasley company," he sneered, before stalking off out of the Great Hall.

Dean looked horrified.

"You don't suppose he'll give me my book back, do you?" he asked.

"Doubt it, mate," Ron replied.

"Not even if I ask nicely?"

"Not even if you cleaned out every last one of his cauldrons with your tongue," Seamus confirmed.

"What was up with you two, anyway?" Dean asked suddenly, looking at Harry.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

"All that staring- it was well weird. I couldn't tell if you were going to slit each others' throats or..."

"Don't finish that sentence, Dean," Harry interrupted, a little concerned he knew what was coming next. Dean raised an eyebrow in Harry's direction.

"Then tell us, mate," he replied.

"Erm... it was..." Harry floundered for a good excuse to explain their behaviour without giving away Snape's, or his own, Occlumency skills.

"You were just trying to stare each other out, weren't you?" Hermione interjected, and Harry felt an overwhelming gratitude for her interruption. "You must have noticed how Snape seems to dislike Harry- now neither of them will give an inch during a confrontation. It's all very macho behaviour," she added, disapprovingly. Dean seemed to accept this.

"Why will I be keeping you company, Ginny?" Harry asked. Ginny looked askance at him.

"Because I have a detention tonight as well, obviously," she mocked.

"On your first day back? You'll never make Head Girl next year," Harry teased. Ginny laughed richly.

"Yeah, because that's going to bother me," she replied, sarcastically.

"What did you get a detention for anyway?" Ron asked. Ginny shrugged.

"Laughing," she replied, not looking anyone in the eye.

"Laughing?" Ron asked, incredulous. Ginny nodded.

"I got a fit of the giggles in his class. He was talking about potions that have two separate effects, pie-of-tropic, or something, and how the two effects could be as different as freezing your skin like the wind and causing your blood to pulse harder through your veins, and all the while he was tapping his left palm with his wand. I just couldn't help it... I guess you had to be there," she finished. Harry noticed she glanced briefly across at Hermione, who was steadfastly concentrating on her soup.

"Pleiotrophic," Hermione said, eventually. Ginny clicked her fingers.

"That's the one!" she exclaimed, triumphantly.

"When have we got this detention?" Harry asked, remembering how Snape hadn't told him the time, and evidently expected him to turn up with Ginny.

"In about half an hour," Ginny replied, looking at her watch. Harry sighed.

"Great- this really is turning out to be just about the worst start to the school year I've ever had," he said, stabbing the last of his potatoes with his fork.

"Hasn't it just?" Hermione agreed.

"What has?" A dreamy voice asked near Harry's left ear. He turned to face it, and saw Luna hovering next to him, squeezing an oddly shaped red ball.

"Hi, Luna," he said. She smiled.

"Hi, Harry," she replied. "Hi, Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Neville, you other people I don't know."

"Hi, Luna," chorused Hermione, Ron, Ginny and Neville, whilst the rest of the Gryffindor table gawped at her. She appeared not to notice.

"Harry was just saying how our last year has got off to a flying start," Ron explained, at which Luna furrowed her brow.

"Well, I think it has been rather awful," she lilted. "I'm terribly sad that Dumbledore has died."

"Ah, but who do you think did it?" Jeremy Archer suddenly asked, rather confrontationally. Luna laughed.

"I hadn't thought about it," she replied. "Although I do know one of the boys in my year has opened a book up on it. I think he's put Snape as a three to one favourite."

Dean looked mortified.

"Damn it!" he hissed. "I thought I was going to make a killing... Sorry, bad choice of words," he finished, quietly. Luna tutted.

"It doesn't matter- I saw Snape walk off with a book that had loads of teachers' names in it and the likelihood they were involved, and seeing as you're the one with a face like sour milk, I presume it originally belonged to you," she replied, conversationally. Seamus burst out laughing, and struggled to hide his mirth behind a glass of pumpkin juice. Dean looked a little annoyed.

"Yeah, well you'd be gutted if Snape had just nicked off with your certified money-spinner of the year!" he retorted. Luna stared at the left hand side of Dean's head.

"I think Snape's awfully worried," she mused.

"Yeah- he reckons he's going to get caught!" Jeremy enthused. Luna shook her head.

"I don't think that's what's bothering him. He just seems... concerned," she replied, wistfully, whilst squeezing the oddly shaped ball thoughtfully in her hand.

"What's that, Luna?" Neville asked. Luna jolted out of her reverie.

"Oh, this?" she asked, opening out her hand and pointing to the knobbly red shape in her hand. It looked as though it used to be spherical, but had been badly misshapen- as though someone had done a poor job transfiguring it. Luna pinched part of it between her thumb and forefinger, and the shape melded to her fingers, before she let go and it slowly regained its shape.

"Dad found it in a Muggle sea-side shop," she explained. "He thought it was funny, and I rather like it. He gave me a red one and a green one. They're very soothing to play with."

"Oh, they're called stress balls," Hermione said. Dean nodded.

"I split one open once, by accident. You know they're filled with flour, or something," he added.

"What have you done with the green one?" Ron asked Luna, who was busy depressing one of the knobbly bits of the red stress ball. She shrugged.

"I put it on Snape's desk. I've a feeling he could do with being soothed," she replied, nonchalantly. Ron and Harry exchanged glances, but neither of them said anything.

"Well, I hope for our sake that it works, Luna- I've got a detention with him tonight," Ginny replied. Luna giggled.

"Oh yes, I remember- for inappropriate laughing in his class. I wonder if you can ever appropriately laugh during Potions?" she pondered. Harry got up out of his seat

"Well, as long as you don't try to find out tonight," he warned Ginny, who looked at him in mock innocence.

"Me? I'm not the one who was caught reading a book that 'besmirched the good names of many of the faculty'," she retorted, doing a scarily accurate impression of Snape in the process.

Half an hour later, Harry and Ginny walked down to the bitterly cold dungeons. Ginny, obviously adverse to such extremes of temperature, had put on at least three jumpers and two pairs of knee socks in preparation. Harry, who had not made such provisions, was starting to wish he had.

"What do you think he'll get us doing?" Ginny asked, her breath swirling visibly in the air. Harry shrugged, and thrust his hands deeper into his robe pockets.

"Don't know. Most likely the vilest thing he can dream up, knowing Snape," he replied. Ginny exhaled loudly.

"Great. I'm going to be suffering this for at least the next fortnight, then," she muttered, under her breath. Harry didn't understand what she meant- she had only been assigned one detention.

They soon reached Snape's office, and Harry knocked on the door.

"Enter," came the cold voice of Snape through the heavy oak door. Harry opened the door, held it for Ginny to walk through it first, and then entered himself, shutting the door behind him. Snape was sitting at his desk reading a French newspaper. After a few moments where he steadfastly refused to acknowledge them, he put down his paper and pointed towards a large pile of dirty cauldrons piled up near the sink.

"Right, you two can clean those- without magic. You can leave once they're all done satisfactorily," he said, returning to his newspaper. Harry went towards the sink and found a bottle of cleaning fluid, but no scrubbing brushes.

"Sir?" he asked. Snape put his paper down again.

"Yes, Potter?"

"You haven't given us any..."

Snape wordlessly handed Harry and Ginny two minute brushes on sticks. Ginny stared at hers critically.

"These look like toothbrushes," she said to Harry.

"Correction, Miss Weasley," Snape drawled from his desk, "they are toothbrushes."

"What, and we're supposed to clean those cauldrons with these?" Harry spluttered, before he was able to censor his words. Snape smiled humourlessly at them.

"Have fun. Knock yourselves out- in fact, please do," he said, before returning to his copy of L'Oracle Quoditien.

Harry sighed and rolled up his sleeves. Ginny took one look at the cauldrons, and at her toothbrush, before unlacing her shoes and peeling off one of her socks, dabbing some cleaning fluid onto it and using it to wipe off some of the grime more efficiently than a toothbrush ever would. Harry wished at that moment that he had put on an extra pair of socks, for the only thing he thought he might be able to use to aid his scrubbing was his school tie, and he doubted very much that McGonagall would be pleased if he ruined his only school tie for the purposes of making his detention a little easier.

"Who do you think will be our new Head of House?" Ginny asked, as she scrubbed at a particularly stubborn bit of congealed frog's bladder. Harry shrugged.

"Haven't a clue- it could be Hermione's Arithmancy teacher, I suppose... Maybe it will be Hagrid!" he suggested, excitedly. Ginny shook her head.

"I doubt it- not after Rita Skeeter's article about him being a half-giant. I don't think the parents would be too pleased if he took control of our welfare, especially with Voldemort out in force," she whispered back.

"Hagrid would've been really good, too," Harry pointed out. "I'll be glad when Voldemort finally gets what he deserves."

Ginny looked at him quizzically.

"You seem sure he will," she replied. "I take it that prophecy isn't weighing you down as much?"

"Oh, it is," Harry replied, truthfully. "I just feel... everything that happens- Sirius, Hermione... It makes what I have to do seem that much easier."

Ginny shrugged.

"I'm glad you can look on the positi... Shush!" she quickly ordered, as Snape glared across at them. Harry was certain he was going to berate them some more, except that he was interrupted by a knock at the door.

"Enter," he shouted. McGonagall opened the door and shut it after her. Harry continued to scrub at his cauldron, and pretended not to hear their conversation.

"Good evening, Severus," she said, quietly. Snape shrugged.

"It's an evening, at any rate," he replied, brusquely. McGonagall nodded curtly.

"Today has been quite a trial," she commented. Snape snorted.

"Literally, in some of our cases," he retorted. McGonagall sighed.

"Severus, all of the staff have been questioned..."

"Not for an hour and a half, Minerva!" he replied, hotly. "Persephone was there for two hours!"

McGonagall sat down in a chair next to his desk.

"It's just a formality, I'm sure. You deal in potions, Albus was..."

"Albus was poisoned," Snape replied, matter-of-factly. "I understand, but why Persephone?"

"She's our newest member of staff. Honestly, you seem far more bothered by her treatment than she does," McGonagall replied. Snape said nothing at this; instead he began to squeeze an oddly shaped green ball that was sitting on his desk. McGonagall eyed it curiously.

"Enjoying yourself, Severus?" she asked, with a hint of cheekiness to her voice. Snape looked as though he was about to snap some retort, but instead he raised his eyebrows briefly.

"It does have a soothing quality," he replied, as he gripped the green object more firmly.

"What is that thing, anyway?" she asked. Snape looked at the item that he was absently playing with and shrugged.

"Miss Lovegood left it on my desk earlier. She hasn't come to claim it; I probably should return it to Filius."

McGonagall nodded in response.

"Ah, Miss Lovegood. It's only been one day, and I already miss her... unique take on things. It's a pity she decided not to continue with Transfiguration.... Anyway, Severus, I'm here on more official business," she said, changing the subject. Snape sat up a little straighter in his seat.

"Yes?"

"The new Gryffindor Head of House, to be precise. I was wondering if I could pick your brains over the affair."

Snape nodded, and motioned for her to continue.

"Well," she said, "I've had a few thoughts, and put them to Pomona and Filius... the thing is, we keep coming to the same person."

"Who would be?"

"Persephone Beauchamp," McGonagall replied. Snape nearly jumped out of his chair.

"Are you serious?" he spluttered. "She's only been here a year! Plus, she's far too young."

McGonagall took off her glasses and wiped them on her handkerchief, before setting them back on the bridge of her nose.

"Yes, that's what I thought, too. The thing is, again, I kept coming back to the same person as a point of reference."

"Who would be?"

"You. You had hardly been with us a year before you took the Slytherins under your wing, and you were only twenty-three, if I recall- not much older, in fact, than Persephone. She is twenty-two..."

"Twenty-three, as of August," Snape interjected.

"I stand corrected. The point is, she isn't all that young or inexperienced, is she?"

"Why are you asking me?"

"Well," McGonagall began, awkwardly, "the two of you..."

"Are strangers to each other, Minerva," Snape finished, abruptly, and McGonagall did not push further with that particular line of enquiry.

"Anyway, here's my reasoning. I just wanted a second opinion from the new Deputy-Head," she said, in what Harry thought was a blatant attempt to butter Snape up. He clearly thought so too, for he sat with his arms folded and an unenthusiastic expression on his face.

"Go on then," he instructed. McGonagall settled into her chair.

"Well, she does seem quite in tune with the students, and perceptive to their needs. I specifically recall her insight into Mr. Malfoy's interaction with Miss Granger..."

"Oh, don't remind me," Snape interjected, wearily. McGonagall chucked softly.

"A problematic incident, Severus?"

"On and off each night for six weeks. What truly stuns me is that Draco firmly believes that I don't understand what he was really talking about. And there is that little incident of the whole debacle being part of the reason my jaw still clicks whenever I yawn."

McGonagall nodded stiffly, as though the memory was one that she wanted to suppress.

"Faith Hamilton fooled Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley, as well," she replied, "and they are her best friends..."

"Idiot boys," Snape grunted. "The difference between Hamilton's version of Miss Granger and the real thing was quite obvious."

"How so?" McGonagall asked, clearly intrigued by this statement. Harry was too; for a start, he was furious that Snape claimed to have spotted the impostor Hermione over the real one and was berating him and Ron for what Harry took as a lack of interest in her, which couldn't be further from the truth. He looked across at Ginny, and was flabbergasted as he watched her suddenly bite hard into her knuckles. Her face had turned almost purple with the effort of suppressing giggles.

"The last time Miss Granger danced from one foot to the other and jiggled in any other manner was when she was fourteen. It may not seem like it, but I do notice my students pass through the abyss of puberty and eventually transform from ungainly children into something resembling adult figures..."

At this point, Harry noticed Ginny put her entire head into the cauldron she was scrubbing and hiccup with suppressed laughter. He mutely decided not to even consider asking what was the matter, just in case any attempt at words caused her to spontaneously combust in front of him.

"But, Severus, Faith Hamilton is at least twenty-two!" McGonagall interjected.

"Minerva, Faith Hamilton has the mental age of a nine year old- I presume her spell in Azkaban saw to that," Snape replied, causing McGonagall to clap her hand to her mouth and gasp.

"Goodness! I know that place does things to you... but to that extent?"

"Faith Hamilton had a lot of past to bury; unfortunately, that isn't an option when faced with swarms of Dementors," Snape replied harshly. "Anyway, you wanted to talk about the new Head of Gryffindor House. Do continue. Explain to me why you want a key member of the Brethren of Tyr to become involved in pastoral care."

"Ah, yes. Persephone. Now, you've just reminded me of something there, Severus, I believe that the fact she is a key member of that organisation is the very reason she should be the Gryffindor Head of House. We must face facts here, that House contains the Boy that Lived, two of the Minister for Magic's children, not to mention a child who's parents were tortured by Death Eaters, and of course, a girl who escaped their wrath earlier this year. Out of all the groups of children who may be in danger from Voldemort's forces, those in Gryffindor House are at the most risk. Personally, I think having a Head well versed in all kinds of combat skills, has direct access to reinforcements at the Brethren headquarters and is teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts herself would be most advantageous."

Snape didn't reply to this for a while. Instead he thoughtfully squeezed the green object on his desk and appeared to mull the concept over. Eventually, he shifted in his seat.

"You make a very good case, Minerva," he replied. McGonagall smiled.

"Good- you can help me convince Filius and Pomona," she replied, at which Snape almost jumped out of his seat.

"What? You mean you haven't told them?" he snapped. McGonagall shrugged.

"I mentioned it in passing... thing is, although we did keep coming back to Persephone as a candidate, they didn't seem too pleased with the idea..."

"So? You're the headmistress now," Snape replied. McGonagall sighed.

"I know that; I just thought your influence might help," she replied. Snape raised an eyebrow at her; his expression deeply incredulous.

"And just exactly how am I supposed to persuade them? They're already convinced that I'm somewhat..." he shuddered with distaste. "Intimate with the girl."

McGonagall tried to suppress a smirk, and failed. Snape glared at her.

"Oh, Severus, it's just tittle-tattle. Besides, it's far better than them guessing the truth, surely? At least this way you're keeping Porphyria happy by ensuring nobody guesses that you and Persephone are altogether more closely related," she soothed. Snape did not appear to be placated by her words.

"You try listening to constant insinuations that you're sleeping with your daughter," he replied, simply. McGonagall shrugged awkwardly.

"I'm sure it'll all blow over soon..."

"It'd better," Snape spat.

McGonagall nodded towards the green object in Snape's vice-like grip.

"Perhaps you should keep that, Severus. I know the idea may astound you, but perhaps Miss Lovegood left it on your desk on purpose. Maybe she wanted you to have it," she suggested, a small smile playing at her lips. Snape looked particularly un-amused by her comment.

"There is one more thing," McGonagall added. Snape looked up at her.

"A replacement Transfiguration teacher?" he guessed. McGonagall nodded.

"Precisely. Now, I'm thinking of putting an ad in the Daily Prophet, but I must admit, I'm a little unwilling to recruit an unknown entity into the staff, especially given the situation we're currently facing. Voldemort spent last year setting up his pieces on the metaphorical chessboard- now he's planning to set them in motion. The last thing I want is to hire someone who could be a spy for him."

Snape nodded, though Harry noticed he did not meet McGonagall's eyes.

"There might be somebody I know of," he said. "Excellent at Transfiguration, most certainly not working for... the Dark Lord, although I'm uncertain as to how she might cope in a classroom full of children."

"Do tell," McGonagall urged.

"Alexandra Ridley," Snape replied, and McGonagall looked stunned by his words.

"Alexandra Ridley?"

"She's the leader..."

"I know full well who she is, Severus!" McGonagall exclaimed. "Have that woman teach a bunch of children? Are you insane? She has a background in torture and interrogation, for Heaven's sake!"

"As did I," Snape swiftly retorted. "I didn't see you complain about my enrolment on the staff here."

"You didn't see me complain," McGonagall replied, pointedly. "That doesn't mean I didn't. Dumbledore won out over that particular decision."

If Snape was surprised by McGonagall's reaction, he hid it well, Harry thought.

"So, is history going to repeat itself? Will the Headmistress overrule the Deputy-Head?" Snape asked. McGonagall sighed.

"I... I don't know."

"If it helps, it could be just as useful having her on site as it would be having Persephone as the Head of Gryffindor House. She does control the Brethren's whole operation," Snape added.

McGonagall got to her feet.

"I need to think about this, and I mean really think about this. She might have some undesirable qualities for a teacher..."

"She might be all we've got," Snape retorted. McGonagall looked at him.

"One other thing," she announced. "Albus' funeral..."

Snape put his hand to his forehead and exhaled loudly.

"Minerva, we've been through this before, it's absolutely out of the question!"

"Severus! He's been a good and loyal friend to you- he has trusted you where others have doubted, and you won't do this one little thing for him?"

"Carry his coffin?" Snape spat, in disgust. "Of course I won't, for the exact reasons you've just mentioned!"

McGonagall paled at his words, and her lips went very thin. She then bid him good day, and left his office, shutting the door loudly behind her. Harry and Ginny resumed scrubbing their cauldrons with a vengeance. Snape eyed them mistrustfully, but made no comment.

Eleven o'clock that night, Snape finally grew weary of torturing Harry and Ginny, and let them use magic to clean the remaining cauldrons, which was just as well, for Harry had only got through three and a half of them, and his arm felt as though it was about to drop clean off his shoulder joint.

"I'm so tired!" Ginny complained, as they walked back to Gryffindor tower. Harry nodded.

"Yeah, well, Snape doesn't like to scrimp when it comes to detention fun," he replied sarcastically. "You really get value for money when he punishes you."

Ginny burst out laughing.

"I bet you do," she giggled, hysterically, almost knocking into a suit of armour that shook its helmet at her reproachfully. Harry rolled his eyes.

"Ginny, what is wrong with you?" he asked. She shook her head.

"Nothing," she replied, a little too quickly for Harry to believe her, but he decided not to pry any further.

They ascended the flight of stairs that led to the Gryffindor common room.

"Password?" the Fat Lady demanded, after she had put down her embroidery.

"Bertie Bott," Ginny announced, and the portrait swung open, allowing Harry and Ginny access to their common room. They stopped dead in the middle of the room as they saw Ron and Hermione sitting in their pyjamas, waiting up for them.

"Hi- what are you two still doing up?" Harry asked. Ron held up a black letter, very similar to the one Hermione was turning over and over in her hands.

"What... oh," Harry said, as he registered what the letter meant. He had received an almost identical one the year before last, shortly after Sirius' death. It had been an invitation to sit in on Sirius' reading- where his worldly possessions were distributed according to his wishes. Harry assumed that these letters were to do with Dumbledore's own reading. Hermione handed him a black envelope with his name handwritten on the front in silver ink.

"It was left on your bed. We thought we'd bring it down for you," she explained.

"Thanks," Harry said, sadly, as she opened his letter, whilst Ginny looked on.

'Dear Mr. Harry James Potter,

It is with great sadness that I write to you, for it means that Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore has passed on. In accordance with his wishes, I invite you to attend his reading, scheduled for the 6^th of September at five o'clock in the afternoon at 354 Castlehill, Royal Mile, Edinburgh. Please be prompt.

Yours sincerely,

Elphias Doge, Scotland Association for Wizarding Affairs'

"Elphias Doge? He was one of the Advanced Guard that got me out of the Dursleys' place the other year!" Harry exclaimed. Hermione scrutinised her letter.

"Hmm, and he's a Will Reader. I suppose it would be very useful for Dumbledore to have a Will Reader as a member of the Order- it's certainly one way of ensuring your secret plans don't get found out by people you don't know," she mused. Harry nodded.

"True," he replied.

"Yeah," Ron added. "I mean, Dumbledore dying- this is big news for the Order."

Harry was confused by Ron's words.

"What do you mean?" he asked. Ron looked despairingly at him.

"What do you think? Dumbledore ran the Order, right? With him gone, what's going to happen to it?"

"He must have made some sort of provision, such as who would take over the running of it, or what the major plans are," Hermione added. Harry sighed.

"How stupid of me- I blame the fumes from that cleaning fluid Snape gave us," he protested. Ginny nodded.

"That stuff was pungent," she confirmed.

"Do you reckon all the Order will be there, then?" Harry asked. Hermione nodded.

"No doubt about it. Saturday is going to herald some big news," she replied, yawning.

"You'd better go to bed," Ron said.

"We'd all better go to bed," Harry added, as he glanced across at the Gryffindor notice board, and saw a huge sign informing all the students to gather there at a quarter to nine tomorrow morning. They all said their goodnights, and Harry and Ron climbed the staircase to the boys' dormitory, whilst Hermione and Ginny went up the steps to theirs. Harry was sure he could hear Ginny giggling as she did another disturbingly accurate impression of Snape describing the noticeable changes of the Hogwarts pupils as they ascend through the years, but he was far too tired to comment upon it.

As he got changed into his pyjamas and flopped into bed, Harry realised, with some horror, that it was only Monday. He dreaded to think what the rest of the week had in store for them all.