The Man of the Moment

Chapter Eleven: Do Wizards Dream of Magical Sheep?

The following weeks after Dumbledore's reading had been fairly uneventful. Persephone seemed to have taken to her new position as Gryffindor Head of House with gusto, and the Gryffindor students were used to seeing her pop into their common room now and then just to say hello and see what they were up to. They also got used to her small yappy dog Frank running around Gryffindor Tower as well, his tiny forked tail wagging madly as he rushed about from Persephone's office to the Hogwarts grounds via the ever-changing staircases. Once or twice, Harry had seen Frank barking madly at a silver suit of armour, which refused to acknowledge his existence, and also behaving in a somewhat hostile manner towards Mrs. Norris, Filch's cat, which had caused numerous spats between the Caretaker and the Head of House. Alex also seemed to have settled into a teaching routine; although she had quickly become infamous throughout all the students as being even stricter than McGonagall, rumour had it that she gave out the least number of detentions of all the teachers because everyone was far too afraid to mess about in her lessons. Neville still maintained that Snape would beat her on this count, if he wasn't so vindictive as to give them out for petty reasons. Never the less, her demeanour had earned her the nickname 'Bride of Snape' amongst the student body, and Harry was fairly certain she was blissfully unaware of this newly acquired moniker. He would have loved to chat about all this to Hagrid, except that he had simply not been there to chat with. In fact, Hagrid had only been on school grounds a few nights in total since Dumbledore's funeral, and Harry was beginning to worry.

Harry stared at the blank blackboard in front of him and sighed. He was glad everyone else had settled into their new positions, for he was almost certain he would never fill the expectation currently bearing down on his shoulders like a lead weight, dragging him down. It was all too big; he had been stupid to even think he stood a chance...

"C'mon, Harry," Ron whispered, nudging him. "Everyone's waiting- the match starts in ten minutes!"

Harry nodded, and returned to the blackboard in front of him, and began to draw out a quick top-down diagram of the Quidditch pitch.

"Right," he announced. "Hufflepuff have got a really decent team together, so we need to have a top-line defence. Their Chasers are good; however, their main weakness is in their Beaters. Euan, Natalie and Ginny, you need to take advantage of this- swarm their Quaffle hoops!" Harry drew three stick figures on stick brooms hovering towards the opposing goals, and drew arrows from the figures to the hoops.

Ginny snapped back a salute.

"Yes, sir!" she responded, cheekily. Natalie McDonald and Euan Abercrombie merely looked at each other, and nodded in reply.

"Ron; you need to keep your eyes on those Quaffles- our defence needs to be tip-top against the Hufflepuffs," he confirmed, drawing a stick figure on a broom hovering near the hoops.

"Jack, Andrew; I need you two to take no prisoners! Think of this as like wandering into a field of dandelions; the only way you can increase their numbers is by taking their heads off!" Harry mimed the action of swinging a club though the air. The entire team looked at him blankly.

"Erm, no offence, Harry," Jack Sloper piped up, "but 'huh?'"

"You need to hit the Bludgers at the Hufflepuff Chasers to help us increase our chances of scoring... Oh, come on, it's my first match as captain, I am trying!" he protested. "Anyway, we need to beat Hufflepuff, so everyone put in their best, okay?"

"Okay!" everyone replied, as Harry nodded towards the exit of the changing rooms.

"Let's go," he commanded, and led the Gryffindor team out onto the pitch.

"Good luck, everyone," he said, before they kicked onto their brooms and flew into formation.

Madam Hooch walked out onto the pitch and released the Quidditch balls, at which the Golden Snitch whizzed off out of sight.

"Team captains; shake hands!" she instructed, and Harry flew towards the centre of the pitch to shake hands with Zacharias Smith, the Hufflepuff team captain. They nodded to each other in a gesture of fair play and courtesy, before Madame Hooch blew her whistle, and the game commenced.

Harry flew off in order to try and spot the Snitch, and was amazed at the speeds which he could achieve on the Lytenbolt- he was certain that the models on show in quality Quidditch Supplies couldn't get you across one half of the Quidditch pitch to the other in under twenty seconds. Then he remembered who actually acquired it for him, and as he caught the eye of his new Head of House, and saw her wink conspiratorially at him, he realised she had probably got hold of a model tweaked for publicity reasons. It was common knowledge that Nimbus Incorporated lent out souped-up models of their broomsticks for the newspaper and magazine reviewers.

So far, the game wasn't going entirely to plan. Within the first ten minutes, Hufflepuff had scored 20 points to Gryffindor's big fat zero, and Harry could see Ron's fury as yet another Quaffle slipped through the hoop and made the score 30 to zero.

"...And Hufflepuff score another ten points- come on, Gryffindor!" Colin Creevey announced from the stands, in his usual excitable manner. Harry watched as the crowd were excitedly cheering their houses on, with the exception of the Ravenclaws, who looked a little bored. Somewhere amongst the Ravenclaw stand, Harry was sure he could see a huge lion with a badger in its mouth perched precariously atop a small blonde girl, and he couldn't help but smile. The Slytherins were cheering on the Hufflepuffs, and Harry knew this was purely because seeing Harry lose this match would make their weekend.

Harry groaned as Euan missed another opportunity to score. He was beginning to think the Slytherins would get their wish.

"Ooh, a narrow miss there for Abercrombie... Wait, Weasley is going for the Quaffle- she's intercepted by Finch-Fletchley, and... Ouch! Sloper whacks a Bludger straight at him, and he drops the Quaffle..."

"Yes! Go on, my lad!" Persephone yelled from the stands, and was certainly loud enough for everyone to hear. Harry noticed Professor Flitwick smother a smile over in the Ravenclaw stand.

"...Yes! Ten points to Gryffindor- the first of the match! Weasley knocked the Quaffle straight through the Hufflepuff hoops, and Abbott does not look pleased..."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief- things could only get better now, after all.

Only, they didn't. Justin Finch-Fletchley and Laura Madley appeared to have made quite a team on the Quidditch pitch, for they were passing Quaffles and scoring at a rate of knots- Jack Sloper and Andrew Kirke could barely hit enough Bludgers at them to slow their progress. Ginny and Natalie managed to score around thirty points between them, but it was nothing compared to the Hufflepuff chasers. Ron was having great difficulty stopping the Quaffles from slipping past him and through the hoops, but Harry could tell that was in part due to Jack and Andrew's... well, hopelessness, really, at keeping Justin, Laura and Zacharias out of shooting range. Then the Slytherins started up a rousing chorus of 'Weasley Is Our King', which made matters worse. It didn't last long, though, for a sudden shout of, "If you lot don't stop singing in five seconds, you will all receive detentions for every evening next week!" ensured the Slytherins quietened down. Harry didn't need to look across to see which teacher had made the request; Persephone's voice was instantly recognisable to him.

Suddenly, Harry saw the Snitch whiz along past his line of peripheral vision. He surreptitiously began to follow it, but Thomas Summerby had spotted him, and was rushing towards the tiny blur of gold fluttering at the edge of the pitch. Harry pushed forward and sped towards the Snitch with all his might. The Lytenbolt he was riding seemed to obey his command with gusto, as Harry felt himself propelled forward at such a velocity, that he could feel the skin on his face begin to drag. He turned sharply a few times to follow the course of the Snitch, and occasionally feared he would lose his glasses to the slipstream.

"...Look at Potter go! Summerby is having difficulty keeping up- I've my suspicions Potter may well be riding a, dare I say it, Lytenbolt- but even they don't go that fast..."

Harry chanced a look behind him, and saw Summerby was indeed struggling to keep up. He had resorted to riding on Harry's slipstream to try and get some speed up, but Harry could see the Snitch hovering tantalisingly within his reach. He pushed forward just a little more, and the Lytenbolt gave a sudden burst of speed. He reached out, and felt his hand wrap around the fluttering Snitch.

"...And Potter catches the Snitch! One hundred and fifty points to Gryffindor! This brings the game to an end at one hundred and ninety points to Gryffindor, and two hundred points to Hufflepuff," Colin announced from the stands, and although he managed to remain more impartial than Lee Jordan ever did, the disappointment in his voice was evident.

Harry cursed himself loudly for catching the Snitch. One of the Hufflepuff Chasers must have scored two more goals whilst he was hell-bent on rushing after the Snitch. He touched down on the pitch to find the rest of his team heading towards the changing rooms.

"Harry!" Zacharias called, and Harry grimaced, before affixing a smile to his face and turning round.

"Yes, Zack?"

"I just wanted to say, you did a good job out there- I know it was your first match as captain and everything..."

"Thanks, Zack," Harry replied. "It was a good game."

Zacharias nodded, then pulled Harry aside.

"I don't mean to butt in," he said, "but I think it's fairly obvious where the weakness in your team is." He nodded towards the Gryffindor changing rooms, but Harry had an inkling of whom Zacharias was referring to.

"Just so you know," Zacharias added, tapping his nose conspiratorially, before running off to give his own team a congratulatory speech.

"Never mind, Harry," Ron said, sympathetically, as Harry entered their changing rooms. "We were really close. It was my fault- I did absolutely rubbish today!"

"No, you didn't; you... you did fine," Harry said, as Jack and Andrew walked up to him.

"Yeah- you did the right thing in catching the Snitch, Harry," Jack pointed out. "At least we're not too far gone, points wise."

Harry brightened at this thought- they still had a chance at the cup, providing the next match between Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff went in the former's favour. He said as much to the gathered team, and the thought seemed to lift morale a bit.

"Yeah, we've got a strong team; we'll be fine!" Ginny announced. Harry smiled weakly- he didn't know how to bring up the question that he wanted to. He knew Zacharias was right about the weak link on his team, and he knew just who the culprit was- or, rather, culprits were- Jack and Andrew. What he didn't know, though, was how to tell them. He knew how Oliver Wood and Angelina Johnson would have done it- they would have grabbed them by the collars and yelled at them to pull their socks up, or they'd be out. Harry knew he wasn't like either of his previous team captains, though- especially as he knew they were doing their best.

"C'mon, let's get changed," Ron said. "I caught a glimpse of Per... Professor Beauchamp as the match ended- she may need consoling more than we do."

Everyone laughed at this remark. From the few glimpses Harry had caught of Persephone's role as a spectator of the match, she had been rather... involved.

"I swear she yelled, 'Just effing well hit him with it! That's what it's there for!' at one point during the match," Andrew commented, which caused the rest of the team to laugh even more.

By the time they had all got changed and traipsed up to the Gryffindor common room, it was past dinnertime. Not that it mattered a great deal, Harry soon found out as they passed the portrait of the Fat Lady. Persephone was there with the rest of the Gryffindors, and had laid on sandwiches and tankards of Butterbeer for all the students.

"I was saving going to all this effort for a celebration of you guys winning the Cup," she explained. "But you all looked so downhearted, I figured you could do with cheering up."

"Wow, cheers, Professor!" Ginny said, happily, as she grabbed a tankard of Butterbeer from the table, along with a sandwich, and went to sit with Hermione.

"Yeah, thanks, Persephone," Harry said, quietly enough for the rest of the Gryffindors not to here. Persephone smiled.

"You're welcome," she replied. "I knew it was your first match as captain- but really, you didn't do that badly..."

"I lost," Harry replied, simply. Persephone chuckled.

"Well, yes, that's true," she said. "I've heard worse, though."

"When?" Harry asked.

"Ioan told me about the first Quidditch match he captained," she explained. "He primed his team to play defensively, got his Chasers to keep the Quaffle in the other team's half of the pitch and told his Seeker to keep his eyes peeled. Well, the first five minutes of that game, both his Beaters were knocked out. The reserves were hopeless, because he'd been training the team so hard; he'd forgotten to sort out the reserve players. Then one of the Chasers broke her nose- there was blood everywhere, and she couldn't see properly, so she smashed straight into the opposing seeker, sending him off course, and straight into the path of the Snitch. They were absolutely creamed. Two hundred and ten to nothing, I think."

Harry couldn't help but laugh at Persephone' story; then he noticed she looked a little pensive. He was about to enquire as to why, but she soon shook herself out of it.

"See, Harry, you've got to start somewhere- you certainly didn't do as badly as Ioan did, and he captained a team that won seven tournaments on the trot," she added, handing Harry a Butterbeer and a roast beef sandwich. "Now, go and eat something- you look famished!"

Harry obeyed her command, and went to sit with Ginny, Ron and Hermione, the latter of whom was busy comforting Ron with a hug and such choice phrases as, "Don't be silly, Ron- I was watching that match, and you managed to save at least fifty percent of the Quaffles aimed at your hoops." Persephone, he noticed, had returned to her office.

"Everything okay?" Harry asked. Hermione nodded.

"I'm just telling Ron that he wasn't rubbish out there," she explained, before lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper.

"If anything, I think perhaps Jack and Andrew could have helped you out a bit more. I mean, they're not exactly Fred and George, are they?"

"Well, no," Harry admitted, "but I can't just get rid of them!"

"I wasn't suggesting that," she retorted, "just that, maybe they should do more practise, or something."

Harry sighed.

"Yeah, I know. I have to do something- we could have won that match if they'd pulled themselves together..."

"Don't think like that," Ginny said. "Let's just concentrate on the next match. Who are we playing?"

"Ravenclaw, I think," Harry replied. Ginny smiled.

"See, we just take what we learned from this match, and apply it to the next," she suggested, and Harry was reassured somewhat by her words.

"What did Persephone say to you?" Ron asked, suddenly.

"She was just telling me about Ioan Desislav's first match as a captain," he replied, and shared the story with Ron, who found it as amusing as Harry had.

"Oh, that's priceless, that really is," Ron said, after sniggering for a few moments. Hermione, however, looked concerned.

"Is this the Ioan she used to go out with?" she asked. Harry nodded. Hermione frowned.

"The Ioan that she recently captured as a Death Eater?" she queried. Harry nodded.

"Yeah," he replied, sadly. It had suddenly dawned on him that it was small wonder Persephone had looked so downhearted talking about Ioan. He was about to go and speak to her, when Neville sat down next to them.

"Hi- I'm sorry about the match- I watched it with Dean and Seamus," he said, patting Harry on the back. He shrugged.

"It's okay. If Hufflepuff lose to Ravenclaw in their match, we'll still stand a chance of winning the cup. We've just got to do better next time," he replied. Neville nodded.

"True- besides, there are more important things to worry about, anyway," he said, sagely, tapping onto his copy of the Daily Prophet.

Hermione looked horrified.

"What's happened? Has there been another attack?" she asked. Neville nodded.

"Yeah, but that's not the worst of it," he explained. "It was reported on page nine."

Hermione bit her lip in concern. Ron looked bewildered.

"What difference does that make?" he asked. Hermione sighed heavily.

"It means that Death Eater attacks are becoming so common-place, that they're no longer front-page material," she replied. She gestured to borrow Neville's newspaper, and he handed it to her. She looked at the front page with scorn,

"Listen to this, 'Donaghan Tremlett in Bass Slippage Shock'," she read aloud. "Is it just me, or is this paper really going downhill?"

Neville shrugged.

"Well, it's either this or the Quibbler," he commented. Ron laughed.

"Yeah, I can just see Luna's old man cornering the media market with stories of Stubby Boardman," he joked.

They chatted in this manner for quite some time. In fact, by the time they had finished a rather heated discussion over the Daily Prophet's coverage of matter of the war, most of the other Gryffindors had gone to bed.

Hermione yawned.

"I'm going to go to bed," she announced, as she got up from her chair. "Goodnight."

Ginny scrambled to her feet.

"Wait up, Hermione!" she said, quickly. "I want to ask you something."

She got up and rushed after Hermione, and their whispered conversation was lost to Harry's ears, except he was sure he heard Hermione say, "You got another detention?" before they ascended the staircase to the girls' dormitory.

Harry got up from the floor.

"I'm just going to have a quick word with Persephone," he said, gesturing towards the exit of the common room. Ron nodded.

"Sure, I'll see you in a bit," he replied, before getting up himself and walking up to the boys' dormitory with Neville. Harry left the common room and walked a few yards along the corridor to Persephone's new office. Seeing that her light was still on, he knocked at the door.

"Come in," she instructed from the other side of the door, and Harry did so.

"Hello, Harry- what can I do for you?" Persephone asked, as she put her quill down on her desk. Harry noticed she was marking parchments.

"Third year werewolf essays," she remarked, upon seeing him eye the papers.

"Ah," he replied.

"Have a seat." Persephone gestured towards a comfortable-looking armchair next to her desk. Harry sat down in it, and saw that her office has changed little from last year; the same rows of impressive weaponry covered the back wall, the books of many different languages were present too, even her big blue mat- which Harry knew she used during meditation, and for teaching him Occlumency- was in its rightful place on the office floor. The only noticeable difference was that the windows were in different positions to the ones in the second-floor office.

"I was just wondering if you were okay," Harry said. Persephone eyed him curiously.

"I'm fine; whatever makes you think I wouldn't be?" she asked. Harry shrugged.

"It's just, we were talking about Ioan..." He trailed off, and Persephone flashed him a smile.

"Really, it's okay," she replied. "I mean, I'm a bit upset that he's gone and done what he has- you know, joining Voldemort's team and all, but I'll get over it."

Harry watched her for a moment, and saw that her expression appeared to be a little melancholic.

"Did it surprise you?" he asked. Persephone leant back in her chair and looked him in the eye.

"Honestly? I don't know. I thought he was made of sterner stuff, to tell you the truth," she said. Then she frowned for a brief moment.

"Having said that, I don't think he'd ever been tested like that when I knew him. He was your typical popular student- handsome, Quidditch captain, never really had to work hard to get decent grades. Actually, he never really had to work hard at anything- except me. I think that's why he went out with me- he liked the challenge. 'Course; when that challenge continued once we were dating, he got bored. I reckon that's why he started messing about with Violetta. Then he learned what it meant to work hard at something."

Harry looked expectantly at Persephone, for he didn't quite understand where she was going with this little speech.

"Violetta was a werewolf, and she bit him. Durmstrang- as pureblood fanatical as it was, didn't really seem to have much of a problem with dark beings like werewolves being students; they just kept their presence in the school really quiet. We had one or two in our midst, but this was the first time I'd ever heard of a student willingly infecting another. She got into awful trouble when the news broke out," she explained. "Ioan wasn't too bothered, but I imagine once he left Durmstrang and tried to make a name for himself in the real world, he found it hard. Just look at Remus; he's obviously found getting a steady job very difficult. But then, he's a fighter- he takes the knocks and carries on with his life. Ioan isn't a fighter- deep down; I've always known this, really. It became apparent very quickly once we started dating, and he was only sixteen then. He would probably have got frustrated and angered by his treatment at the hands of other wizards- understandably. I reckon Voldemort didn't have to do too much persuading to get Ioan to join him. I suppose he just offered him what he offers all the rest- equality, fair treatment, a position of power. It's all lies, of course, but when you're desperate... I can see why he did it. It was stupid, but I can see why. I think my overwhelming feeling is one of disappointment," she said, sadly.

"I'm sorry," Harry said, placing his hand on hers. She smiled.

"Don't be," she said, emphatically. She then pointed at a letter on her desk.

"He's being tried in a few days- Arthur sent me word. I'll have to give evidence in front of the Wizengamot."

"Oh," Harry replied. Then he realised something he remembered Hermione mentioning once during a discussion about Death Eater trials.

"Will you have to give evidence under Veritaserum?" he asked. Persephone raised her eyebrows momentarily.

"Technically, I'm supposed to," she replied.

"But what about the Brethren? What if they ask you something relating to that, and you have to answer, in front of all those people?" Harry asked, worriedly. Persephone laughed.

"Harry, relax. It won't come to that."

"Why not?" he asked

"Well, the thing is, I've built up a tolerance to Veritaserum over the years- part of standard training when joining the Brethren. It's tough, but it's all done to protect the Brethren, and ourselves. We're not the only ones to do it- some top Aurors are tolerant too. I think Alastor Moody might be, although he'd never tell me. Arthur's sent me a form to fill in, where I have to declare my tolerance as a reason for refusing to give evidence under Veritaserum," she explained. Harry frowned.

"So, you can refuse to be given Veritaserum?"

Persephone nodded.

"Technically, yes; but off the record, you need a very good reason." she said. "About the only one that's routinely accepted is an allergy to Ministry-Standard Veritaserum. But my tolerance will be accepted too. It proves I'm being honest; they'll probably use a Sneakoscope or some such device instead."

Harry nodded.

"Anyway," Persephone asked. "How are you doing? You do realise that if Ravenclaw beat Hufflepuff next match-, which is likely- then you'll still be in with a good chance of winning the Cup. You did only lose by ten points..."

"Yeah, I know" Harry replied, before eyeing her curiously. "But how come you do?"

Persephone looked a little embarrassed. She then opened up her desk drawer, and pulled out a large piece of parchment.

"Hogwarts Quidditch Cup points table. I'm using it to track our progress," she admitted. Harry looked slightly askance at her.

"You're really into this, aren't you?" he asked. Persephone shrugged.

"I can't help it- I'm a frustrated Beater," she admitted.

"Why didn't you try out for a position on a National team?" Harry asked, before realising he might really have put his foot in it. Persephone was definitely a good- if violent- player; he had seen her in action during the staff versus student Quidditch Match earlier in the year. What if she hadn't made it for some reason?

"I'd already embarked upon my chosen career during my first years of N.E.W.T.s," she replied.

"The Brethren," Harry stated, for confirmation more than anything. Persephone nodded.

"But why?" Harry found himself asking. "I know you were killed by Voldemort." He still found saying those words in that order utterly ridiculous. "But you didn't know that when you joined. Was it because of Malfoy trying to drown you?"

"Drowning me," Persephone corrected, "and no, it wasn't. I just believe that some things are worth fighting for with all our might. Freedom is one of them. Equality is another."

Harry looked blankly at her. He couldn't understand where she had learned such ideals.

"I don't mean to be rude," Harry said, knowing that what he was about to say was just that. "It's just, well- you're from a pureblood family..."

"So are the Weasleys," she replied. "Besides, we're not a pureblood family, but a tribe. I'm sure we've got Muggle ancestry somewhere down the line- we're far too huge not to. Tribes are concerned not with purebloods and Muggleborns, but with Roma and Gaje- travellers and settlers. It doesn't matter to us what your magical heritage is, as long as you're a Roma. But, seeing as my family have settled, we couldn't give a monkeys one-way or the other. It's not about superiority for me; it's about what's right for everyone. I guess I'm an idealist."

She shrugged.

"Anyway, shouldn't you be going to bed? It's late."

Harry looked at his watch. It was half past eleven.

"Yeah, I should... but so should you," he replied. Persephone shook her head.

"I'm on shift," she replied. Harry must have looked blankly at her, for she elaborated.

"I've got to stay up and patrol the school now and then until about half past one," she said. "Alex is taking over from me until four, then Severus is doing the four until six shift. Security, you see."

"That's harsh," Harry commented. Persephone groaned.

"Tell me about it- but I've got my marking to keep me awake," she said, cheerfully. Harry grinned.

"Well, I'll leave you to it," he said. "See you in the morning."

"Sleep well, Harry," Persephone replied, as Harry left her office, carefully shutting the door behind him.

Harry stumbled into what appeared at first, second, and indeed, all subsequent glances, to be a dense forest. The grass beneath his feet felt damp; he looked down and saw that he was dressed in his pyjamas.

"Not a great start," he thought, as he tried to work out where he was. He remembered reaching his dormitory, and he was pretty sure he got ready for bed...

The leaves on the trees were starting to turn from a lush green to a rich, autumnal reddish brown. Just as quickly, they began to fall from the trees, at such a rate that Harry felt them brush past his face. He suddenly felt a lot colder, and decided to walk on, if only to keep himself warm. The sky had blackened, and it seemed like it was going to rain.

Suddenly, he heard an odd scraping noise in the distance. Carefully, he quickened his pace, but tried to stay within the shadows, at least until he had figured out what was going on. The scraping noise got progressively louder, and Harry knew he was reaching its source. Through a clearing in the forest, he was able to see what was causing the noise- it was the sound of a shovel digging a hole in the dry soil. Harry peeked around a tree to get a better view, and saw that the person digging the hole was Snape. Pale and greasy as ever, Snape was clearly digging at a furious pace, for Harry could see the large pile of dirt next to the hole. He appeared to be wearing white billowing robes, only they were quickly becoming obscured from view as the hole got deeper and deeper, and Snape's body disappeared more and more out of sight.

Alex was sitting nearby, dressed in an evening gown of red velvet, and clutching a handbag. She looked thoroughly irritated.

"For Christ's sake, Severus!" she complained. "If you keep digging, you'll never get out!"

"It needs to be big enough- do you realise how many people I've got to fit in here?" he snapped back, all the while digging feverishly.

"Oh, and I suppose you're going to go there as well?" she retorted, hotly. Snape stopped digging for a moment and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, leaving a smear of dirt.

"Well, it certainly looks that way," he replied, tartly, at which Alex stood up and promptly threw her handbag at his head.

"Don't be so defeatist!" she yelled. "Why can't you stay here? I've only just found you, after all these years." She trailed off, and her lower lip protruded a little into a pout. Snape looked at her, and sighed heavily.

"It's not that I want to go," he protested. "It's just that I'll probably have to." He held out his left hand, and his sleeve slipped up his arm, revealing his Dark Mark. It was burning black, and had an odd squiggle through its centre, as though somebody had tried to cross it out.

"You could always come with me," he suggested, slyly, but Alex shook her head.

"I don't think so. I think you'll take someone else, anyway. But that's okay, just make sure you come back!" she ordered. Snape took her hand and brought it to his lips.

"I'll try," he promised, and Alex seemed satisfied by his response.

Suddenly, Snape turned around and caught Harry's eye.

"What do you think you're doing, boy?" he hissed.

"I... I don't know, sir," Harry replied, suddenly aware that he had been watching something rather private. "I got lost..."

"Well, keep walking, boy! This doesn't concern you!" he snapped. Not particularly wanting to face off with Snape when he was armed with a shovel and Harry was just in his pyjamas, he briskly walked away, following the clearing back into the woods. He had been walking for just a short while before he careered straight into somebody.

"I'm sorry," Harry said, automatically, then stopped when he looked up at the dark-haired figure currently brushing himself off.

"Sirius?" he croaked. Sirius grinned, and Harry suddenly noticed how much younger he looked.

"Harry! What are you doing here?" he asked, whilst adjusting his white tie. Harry glanced at his apparel, and saw that he was wearing an entirely white three-piece Muggle suit, but with some sort of long white coat slung over the top. In his left hand, he was carrying a bright white lantern, which burned fiercely.

"I don't know- where are we?" Harry asked. Sirius smiled again, and his eyes seemed to light up.

"Well, if you don't know, then you can't have been here," he replied, which stunned Harry.

"What?" he asked, as Sirius wandered off.

"You can't have been here," he repeated, whilst heading deeper into the woods. Harry had to run to keep up with him.

"Wait," Harry panted, catching up with him. Sirius grunted, and passed the lantern from his left hand to his right.

"What's the matter?" he asked. Harry looked him in the eye.

"I don't understand what's going on!" he pleaded. Sirius smiled again.

"All things become clear in time," he replied. "I didn't really understand that saying, until now."

Harry watched helplessly as Sirius passed the lantern from one hand to the other, and then held it with both, as though it bore a great weight.

"Can I help you with that?" Harry asked, pointing towards the lantern. Sirius laughed, and shook his head.

"Eventually. But not now- it's too heavy for you. Shall we keep going?" he asked. Harry nodded, and walked alongside him through the cold, dense woods.

Harry noticed there was something odd about these woods, but it took him a while to work out what.

"There's nothing here," he remarked. Sirius looked at him.

"Come again?"

"There's no animals living here- it's utterly silent," he embellished. Sirius nodded.

"Well, of course there aren't," he replied. "They've got more sense than us."

"Evidently," Harry thought, for Sirius' words seemed to indicate that he was somewhat lacking in sense as well.

"It's interesting," Sirius continued conversationally, "that you haven't brought up the fact that I'm dead."

Harry looked at him as though he had just put a tea cosy on his head and danced the lambada.

"Well, I thought it was a given," he admitted. Sirius shrugged.

"That's good. Sometimes, people forget these things," he replied, inexplicably.

They continued to walk, and found themselves standing in another small clearing, where a black-haired woman wearing a red headscarf and a sleeveless white dress was kneeling on the ground, patting the earth with her hands and hovering over the area with a watering can.

"Nurturing is a thankless task- I water my plants, but see how they die," she said to herself, before turning around. Harry recognised her instantly- it was Persephone. He wondered briefly if perhaps she and Sirius were sharing some great wizarding secret; as she also looked a lot younger than she usually did, although this might have had something to do with her wearing her long hair loose down her back. She smiled when she caught Harry's eye, and stood up.

"I wasn't expecting to see you here," she explained, brushing dirt off the layers of white chiffon wrapped around her lower body. The satin bodice that covered her upper body appeared untainted by her scrabbling around in the dry soil.

"Are you getting married, or something?" Harry asked, upon seeing Persephone's garb. She laughed richly.

"Oh, no, Harry! I'm trying to fix it all," she replied. Harry smiled weakly.

"Okay, now you're making about as much sense as Sirius," he said, only semi-jokingly.

"Persephone!" Sirius exclaimed, taking her by the hand and attempting to engage her in a dance, although this proved somewhat difficult seeing as he was carrying a heavy lantern. Persephone merely laughed.

"Sirius, this isn't going to work, you know," she said, pointing at the lantern. Sirius looked glum for a moment.

"Oh, ye of little faith... I could try and hold it in my mouth..." he trailed off, grimacing with the effort of holding the lantern, as he tried to rest it against his knee. Persephone tutted.

"Is that heavy?" Persephone asked, pointing at the torch. Sirius nodded, and Persephone promptly took it from him.

"Then I'll carry it for you, instead," she announced, as the lantern shone brightly in her hands. "Think of it as a favour."

"Are you sure?" Sirius asked, as the lantern began to burn more fiercely, illuminating an odd, cross-shaped emblem that appeared to be stitched onto her bodice. Persephone nodded.

"It's the way it should be," she replied.

Harry became increasingly aware of someone walking around behind him. He quickly turned around, and saw Lupin storm towards Sirius and Persephone, his blue robes swishing around him as he moved. Before Harry could say anything, he whipped out a long sword, and thrust it straight through Persephone's back, until its tip protruded out through her stomach, and her dress began to stain rapidly with red, which spread outwards from the point.

"I'm the one who's supposed to carry it, not you," he yelled at her. Persephone laughed, then upon seeing Harry's horrified expression, calmed down.

"He does that all the time," she replied, simply. "It's okay- he does it because he cares. The problem is, Remus doesn't understand that if he carries it, you never can," she scolded, wagging her finger at Lupin.

"It's a foolish idea- none of you should be carrying that blasted thing in the first place," he remonstrated.

"But, Persephone, you're bleeding..." Harry trailed off as he saw Persephone's blood start to drip over the floor. She shrugged.

"No, no, don't you worry about me, I always find my way back home..." she trailed off as the flames from the lantern licked up, and began to consume her.

"Persephone!" Harry yelled, but it was too late. She was no more.

He was about to yell out, ask what was happening, but neither Sirius nor Lupin were anywhere to be seen. He was utterly alone, save for the small crop of flowers that had sprung up where Persephone's blood had fallen. Looking around, he could see no discernable direction as to where he should walk. He briefly thought about retracing his steps, but decided against it. Somehow, he felt as though there was no going back.

Suddenly, he saw a small shadow out of the corner of his eye. He jerked his head to follow it, but it had vanished. Confused, he decided it must have been a trick of the light, except he saw it again. The shadow looked as though it was running. A burst of childish laughter echoed through the woods. With no other idea of what he should do, he followed the direction of the noise. The laughter was coming from deep within the woods, and the further Harry stumbled after it, the darker his surroundings got. He looked up briefly, and saw that his view of the sky was obscured by many tree branches spiralling out across the woodland canopy.

"Who are you?" he yelled into the depths of the forest. He heard the childish giggling again, and then, for a brief moment, he saw the figure of a small girl. She could only have been around eight or nine, and her white nightdress stood out against the darkness. She giggled, and sped off again, so Harry ran after her, the white the only thing he could see in the blackness of the forest depths.

He stumbled, and heard a door clang shut behind him, and a barrage of 'shush' noises. He looked in front of him, and saw that he was standing in the middle of a dimly lit chapel, with only candlelight to air his vision. There appeared to be a ceremony of some sort going on; two figures, male and female, judging by their attire, were standing in front of the altar. The woman was wearing a crushed velvet gown of deep red, and her brown hair was pinned back, save for a few ringlets that fell around her face. The blonde man was also dressed in red, and appeared to be murmuring some words. A redheaded man dressed in dark red robes faced them, though he also wore a white dog collar.

"Repeat after me," he instructed, looking at the woman. Harry almost jumped out of his skin.

"Ron? What are you doing!" he shouted. Ron seemed oblivious to his calls.

"I, Hermione Jane Granger..."

"I, Hermione Jane Granger," the woman repeated, smiling at the man stood next to her. Harry didn't know what to do, so he just gawped at them both. Ron continued his speech.

"Take Draco Narcissus Malfoy..."

"Take Draco Narcissus Malfoy..."

"What the hell is going on?" Harry whispered to himself, before feeling a tug on his arm.

"Harry, sit here!" Ginny urged, budging up on the pew she was sitting on and leaving a space for Harry to sit. He did so, and brushed against her short red robes.

"It's lovely, isn't it?" she enthused. Luna, who was sitting next to her, lean over her lap to speak to Harry.

"I love weddings," she whispered, as the fabric from her wide blue sleeves pooled into Ginny's lap.

"Why is Hermione getting married to Malfoy?" he asked. Luna shrugged.

"Why not?" she replied. Ginny nudged him in the ribs.

"Harry!" she exclaimed. "It's all about the ties that bind, you know!"

"Right," Harry replied, not having a clue what she was going on about. "But why is Ron marrying them? He hates Malfoy!"

Ginny sighed.

"Ron doesn't really know what he wants- I hope he figures it out soon, though," she replied, wisely.

Suddenly, the entire congregation began to clap, and Harry saw that Ron had indeed pronounced them man and wife, only he didn't look too pleased about it. He watched for a moment as Draco wrapped an ornate piece of armour around Hermione's torso, and buckled it into place, whilst the crowd 'ahhed' appropriately. Then he caught that shadow in his peripheral vision. Whirling around in his seat, he saw the little girl in the white nightdress skip off past the abandoned church organ and down a corridor. He jumped up and ran off after her, much to the annoyance of the crowd, from the dark whispers he could hear around him.

"Hello?" he called after the girl, but he received no reply.

"Hello?" he called again, finding himself face to face with a mirror. He was reflected back in it, and he saw that lightning bolt scar peek out from beneath his dark hair. He looked down at his reflected pyjamas, and then noticed with horror that his hands were covered in blood.

"How?" he whispered to himself, as he looked down at his own hands, and saw that drops of blood were beginning to appear upon his skin. He looked back into the mirror, and saw Neville, dressed in the same pyjamas he was wearing, and scarred with an identical lightning bolt scar.

"We go together, or not at all!" Neville shouted from the mirror. He jumped in shock, and all of a sudden, the mirror shattered into hundreds of pieces and scattered across the floor.

"Together, or not at all... Together or not at all..." Hundreds of voices repeated the words over and over, until Harry thought his head might explode.

He felt firm hands grip his shoulders and march him out of the corridor. Struggling to keep up, he watched as the corridor disappeared, and was replaced by the outside woods once again. The hands let go of him, and he looked up to see whom they belonged to. His heart skipped a beat when he realised he was looking at Tonks and Kingsley Shacklebolt, wearing matching robes in white and red, respectively, as though they were a uniform.

"Mirrors are dangerous, Harry!" Tonks scolded.

"Didn't you learn anything from your first year at Hogwarts?" Kingsley enquired, which stunned Harry. How did he know about the mirror of Erised?

"How did..." Harry began to ask, but they were nowhere to be seen. However, he thought he could see daylight in the distance through the trees, so he walked on ahead.

"Hey, Harry," a familiar voice called. Harry turned around, and saw Fred and George standing behind him.

"Hi, Fred, George!" Harry exclaimed. "I'm glad to see you, you'll never believe what's happened..."

"Do you want to buy an Invisibility Cloak?" Fred piped up, before Harry could finish.

"No... no, thank you," Harry replied. "I've got one."

"Yeah, but this one is special," Fred encouraged.

"How?" Harry asked.

"It makes the wearer appear invisible!"

"Yeah, so does the one I've got," Harry retorted, as the sound of a small girl's laughter echoed through the woods. He ran off to follow the noise, but was stopped by George.

"Oh. Well, an extra one might come in handy- what do you say?" he cajoled. Harry shook his head.

"Sorry, I'm not interested," he replied. "Have you asked Ron or Ginny?"

"Yeah- they weren't interested," George explained.

"What about Hermione?" Harry asked. Fred burst out laughing.

"Hermione? Can you honestly picture Hermione wanting to hide?" he asked.

Harry pulled away without giving an answer and pelted off in the direction of the light. He was sure that was where the laughter had come from. He passed Bill, who was wearing white jeans and a vest top with a white dragon-hide jacket, and yet somehow, against all the odds, still managed to look cool. He waved briefly at Harry, who smiled back, before he noticed the white-blonde hair of Fleur Delacour bouncing against her pale blue robes. She was sobbing into the arms of François Beauchamp, and soaking the shoulder of his dark blue robes. He wrapped his arms around her, and appeared to be comforting her, although Harry's couldn't understand the French he was speaking to her, or the French in which she was replying. Porphyria Beauchamp was looking on, her arms folded and a most displeased expression etched across her face. She stared at Harry for a moment.

"They'll be the death of me!" she hissed, patting down her white dress as though she were trying to dislodge a bee. Harry smiled as sweetly as he could, before he spotted a glimpse of the small giggling girl, and ran off to find her.

"Oh, don't go chasing after her!" Porphyria bellowed after him. "It'll only get you into bother!"

Harry ignored her, and continued to follow the trail of the girl, who was frustratingly out of reach. He passed Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, who were dressed in regulation blue Ministry robes, and appeared to be picnicking with Firenze, Augustine Dougherty and Sam.

"Cup of tea, Sam?" Mr. Weasley offered. Sam shook his head.

"Not for me, thanks, Arthur. I think I'll stick with the Firewhiskey," he joked, and they all laughed.

"Just be careful not to spill it," Augustine pointed out. "That stuff's a devil to get out of clothes."

Sam rolled his eyes.

"Well, if you will wear white..."

"It matches my complexion," Augustine deadpanned, and they all laughed again.

"When are the other due to arrive?" Firenze asked. Mr. Weasley looked at his watch.

"They should be here soon," he said, before scrabbling around in the picnic hamper and pulling out a decanter of red liquid.

"It's a vintage, Augustine; nineteenth century, collected from the finest piglets," Mr. Weasley pointed out. Augustine's face brightened.

"Thank you, Arthur; you are really spoiling us," he replied, graciously.

"Doesn't blood stain?" Firenze commented, teasingly.

"Well, you just use meat tenderiser. Dab it onto the offending area before you put your clothes in the wash- the proteins in it break down blood stains," Augustine explained.

"Really? Well, I never thought of that," Firenze replied. Augustine shrugged.

"Part and parcel of having been around for four hundred years or so."

"Oh, Harry!" Mrs. Weasley called out to him. "Would you like a sandwich, dear?"

"No thanks, Mrs. Weasley- I've got to find someone," he replied, as the small girl flitted across his field of vision again. Mrs. Weasley nodded.

"Well, good luck," she replied, as Harry sped off again.

Within minutes, he had lost sight of the girl again. He mentally cursed himself for his poor eyesight, but then felt a wave of relief when, just in front of him sat a figure. Perhaps they might have seen her? Cautiously, he made his way up to the girl who was sitting cross-legged on the ground. His heart sank when he saw it was Faith. She wouldn't have noticed if a girl went past... Still, it didn't hurt to ask.

"Excuse me?" Harry asked. Faith was sitting in her usual pale blue robes and knee socks, with her hand on her ears as though she was holding a pair of Muggle headphones in place.

"We pity.... Pity Jason!" she sang, oblivious to Harry's attempts to get her attention.

"Faith?" He tried again. "Have you seen a small girl go past here?"

"We pity.... Pity Jason!"

"Faith!" he shouted, and she screamed blue murder. Eventually, with many soothing words and stroking of her hair, he managed to calm her down.

"What!" she snapped, hotly.

"Have you seen a little girl pass here?" he asked, as patiently as he could. Faith scowled at him.

"Yes," she snapped, before putting her hands over her ears again. Harry grabbed her wrists and gently pulled her hands down to her lap.

"Where did she go?" he asked. Faith yanked her wrists out of his grip.

"That way," she pointed, sullenly, before covering her ears with her hands again.

"We pity.... Pity Jason!"

Harry ran off in the direction Faith had pointed to, and soon found himself staring out over a vast lake. The fog of early morning clung to the trees surrounding it, and swirling mists floated across its waters. In the distance, Harry saw a small raven-haired girl crouch down next to the edge of the lake. He walked over to her, scared that one false move might cause her to run away again.

"You shouldn't have come here," she said, without turning round. Harry knelt down beside her.

"Why not?" he asked. She sighed.

"I think you know why," she replied. Harry gingerly placed a hand on her shoulder.

"No, I don't," he replied. She jumped at his touch, then turned to face him, giving Harry the first close view of her he had ever got. She was small and thin, but very tanned, and her white dress emphasised the darkness of her skin. Harry decided he had been right in his assumption of her age being around eight or nine, although she might be an overly small ten year old. She sat down, crossed her legs, and stared straight at Harry with big dark brown eyes. She wrinkled her nose.

"Then why did you follow me?" she asked, twirling a lock of her hair around her finger.

Harry struggled to find an answer to this.

"I... I just thought I should," he replied, uncertainly. She shrugged, and looked back at the calm waters of the lake.

"If I look hard enough, I can see them all again," she commented. Harry didn't know what she was talking about, so he merely kept his hand on her shoulder.

"Is that good?" he asked. She nodded.

"Yes, it's good."

"What's your name?" Harry asked. The girl laughed, but didn't look at him.

"Like I'm going to tell you," she scoffed. "You can call me Angela."

"Hi, I'm..."

"I know who you are," Angela said, haughtily. "Who doesn't?"

She turned to face him suddenly.

"Alessio," she said, inexplicably.

"What?" Harry asked.

"He's the only one who'll help you, because he's the only one that will want the same thing as you," she confirmed.

"Erm... I'm still not with you..."

Angela rolled her eyes.

"When the time comes; trust Alessio," she said, firmly, before wading into the lake. Harry was horrified.

"Angela!" he shouted. "What are you doing? You'll catch your death!"

"I already have," she replied, serenely, before disappearing behind the mist and fog surrounding the lake.

Disorientated, Harry stood up, and looked around. He saw what looked like a man fishing further up the lake, and walked towards him. He might be able to explain to Harry where he was. As he got closer, he could see the man was old, with long white hair and a long white beard. His feet were bright red, as though he were wearing a pair of luminous socks, which shone out almost as a beacon to Harry.

"Excuse me..." Harry began, but was shocked when the man turned around and smiled at him, for he was very familiar.

"Hello, Harry," Dumbledore said, serenely, as he cast his rod out into the lake. "How are you in yourself?"

"I'm okay, I think," he replied, then, seeing as Dumbledore had died, felt it was appropriate to ask, "What about you?"

Dumbledore smiled, and pointed at his feet. He was indeed wearing fluffy red socks.

"I'm comfortable, but sad. We've lost many, haven't we?"

Harry found himself nodding. Dumbledore sighed.

"I thought as much. Still, the woods will be looking lovely again soon, I should imagine. Time heals all wounds, and seals all lessons," he replied, wisely.

At this point, a woman dressed in white, with a red headdress, walked along the bank towards Harry. He couldn't believe his eyes- it was Persephone, carrying the lantern Sirius had given her. He didn't understand it- hadn't she immolated herself with that blasted lantern ages ago?

"There you are!" she exclaimed, looking at Harry. "Come on, you need to take this off me."

She handed Harry the lantern, but he couldn't move to take it.

"I can't, I can't," he said, as though it were a mantra. Persephone tutted.

"You have to. I can't carry it for you- much as I want to. Isn't that right, Albus?"

Dumbledore looked up at her.

"I'm afraid it is. But couldn't you carry it, just for a little while?" he suggested. Persephone shook her head.

"If I do, I might get stuck between here and there. Dad will be looking for me, and I can't leave him alone. He needs me," she replied, matter-of-factly. Dumbledore smiled at her, and grasped her hand in his.

"I'm sure he'll find you..."

"He lost the last two!" Persephone retorted.

"He won't lose you. Didn't you say you can always find your way home?" Harry replied. Persephone blinked at him.

"That's true. Alright, I'll carry it for a bit- but you'll have to take it off my hands sooner or later," she warned, as Dumbledore leaned over, his face inches from Harry's.

"Harry... Harry..."