The Man of the Moment

Chapter Thirteen: Love in a Stockholm Climate

Harry, Ron and Hermione entered the hospital wing, where Luna was looking considerably better than she had been just a few hours ago. The sixth year boy who had caused all the trouble was sitting by her bed, apologising profusely.

"I'm really sorry, Luna," he said, tapping his fingers nervously on the arm of his chair. "I thought it would just make you a bit confused- I didn't mean to hurt you..."

"Well, you did!" Ginny said, hotly, staring at the boy with disgust, her hands placed firmly on her hips.

"I said I was sorry!" he retorted. Ginny glared at him.

"So you should be!" she snapped. Luna hushed her.

"It's okay Ginny; I understand," she replied. The boy looked grateful.

"Thanks, Luna, you know I didn't mean it..."

"I only said I understood," Luna interrupted. The boy looked suitably embarrassed, and left her side, but not before Hermione managed to collar him and whisper something to him. At first he looked mortified for a moment, then laughed nervously, before sneaking off out of the hospital wing, and looking timidly both ways around the door before darting off down the corridor.

Luna waved at them as they walked over to sit by her bed.

"Thank you for the card, it's lovely," she enthused, pointing at the hand made card Hermione had produced.

"Hermione was the one that made it," Ron conceded and Luna looked surprised.

"I never had you down as an arty type, Hermione- I love the little cat!"

"What little cat?" Hermione asked. Luna pointed to an area of the card.

"That one," she replied. Hermione blushed a little.

"That's supposed to be a vase," she replied. Luna pouted momentarily.

"Oh. Well, forget what I said about being surprised you were arty," she said, breezily. "I can still imagine it's a little cat curled up around some flowers, though, which I think is really cute!"

"How are you feeling, Luna?" Harry asked. Luna shrugged.

"Okay, actually. Madame Pomfrey gave me some potion... "I've now discovered I don't much like the aftertaste of ground goat bezoar, but Madame Pomfrey said I'm allowed to eat something in an hour," she replied. "Anyway, I'm bored in here. You are my friends, entertain me," she demanded, albeit with a cheeky smile on her face that Harry found rather infectious.

"Well, Harry did hear a rather interesting piece of news today," Ron said. Luna sat up a little in her seat.

"Go on; what have I missed up here in the hospital wing?" she asked. Harry explained about what he had seen between Alex and Snape. Luna appeared vaguely curious, then shrugged.

"Well, that would explain why, on my way to the toilet half an hour ago, I saw Professor Ridley kiss Professor Snape," she commented, casually. Harry felt his eyes widen with the shock. However, Ron beat him to it as far as the questions went.

"What? Where?" he demanded. Luna rested her chin on her hand and pondered the enquiry.

"Well, it wasn't on the lips; but it wasn't entirely on the cheek, either. It was more sort of..." She drew a circle around half her lip and the cheek next to it with her finger a few times in order to visually demonstrate her point.

"I meant 'where' as in where did you see them?" Ron added.

"Oh; it was somewhere along this corridor, I think. They were really well hidden- I only spotted them because I was still a little disorientated; I kept trying to look in the opposite direction to where I was walking," she explained, conversationally.

Suddenly, Neville entered the hospital wing, carrying a huge bunch of flowers.

"These are for you, Luna; from all of us," he said, arranging them in a vase for her. For the first time Harry had ever noticed, Luna blushed.

"Thank you," she replied, peering over at the arrangement. "Nobody's ever given me flowers before. Are those tulips?" she asked. Neville nodded.

"Yep- Professor Sprout cordons off part of the greenhouse to grow these especially. Tell you the truth, I think she rather likes them, even though they aren't particularly useful in potions and stuff, except for making the colour pretty," he explained.

"Neville?" Ron asked, to get Neville's attention. Neville looked up.

"Yes?"

"Ridley kissed Snape," Ron replied, matter-of-factly. Neville's face was a moving picture. He went from comprehension, to horror, to disgust in the space of five seconds.

"Eurgh!" he exclaimed, "How sick is that?"

"On a scale of one to ten? I'd say eight and a half- if we're including animals as well as humans as a point of reference," Ron replied. Harry noticed Hermione was oddly silent on the subject- but then again, she didn't like to badmouth teachers too often.

"Ergh," Neville continued, "imagine kissing Snape!"

Harry and Ron grimaced. Ginny looked steadfastly at the curtain rail across Luna's bed and muttered, "Yeah, imagine," in what Harry thought was a rather sarcastic tone. Again, Hermione was silent on the matter, although she appeared to be studying Luna with some interest.

"Luna, Luna?" she repeated. Luna was sitting up in bed with a rather contemplative expression on her face.

"Luna, stop imagining it," Hermione said. "Stop it right now!"

Luna looked up at her.

"Sorry- I just wanted to make sure I reached a satisfactory conclusion," she replied, simply.

"Which was?" Hermione asked.

"Well, I imagine it would be rather problematical, because he has thin lips. I've always thought it would be difficult to kiss a thin-lipped man. Plus, he's tall, and that would involve a lot of stretching- you could pull a muscle!" she insisted. Both Hermione and Ginny clearly fought very hard not laugh.

At that point, they were interrupted by a rather stern looking Professor McGonagall, who entered the hospital wing with a definite sense of urgency.

"I trust you are feeling better, Miss Lovegood?" she enquired. Luna nodded.

"Much better, thank you, Headmistress," she replied. McGonagall smiled.

"That's good to hear. Mr. Potter, could I have a word, please?" she asked, and Harry was flummoxed. What could she possibly want to speak to him about?

"Certainly, Professor," he replied, swallowing away a dry throat. The subject matter McGonagall could want to 'have a word' about could range from his spat with Malfoy earlier, to anything that might concern him involving the Order. None of the range extended over anything particularly pleasant.

"I'll see you later," he said to Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Luna and Neville, who nodded.

"Yeah, we'll meet you back in the common room," Ron added, before McGonagall swept out of the hospital wing with Harry in tow.

They soon reached the familiar stone gargoyle that guarded the Headmistress' office.

"Calluna vulgaris," she said, clearly, and the gargoyle moved away, exposing the revolving staircase that led to the circular room that the new Headmistress now inhabited.

"Have a seat, Mr. Potter," McGonagall said, gesturing towards a comfy looking chair opposite her desk. Harry did as he was told, and looked around at all the paintings of the previous headmasters and headmistresses. They were fast asleep- or at least, they were pretending to be.

"Now then, Mr. Potter," McGonagall said, whilst she picked up a bundle of papers that were strewn across her desk and placed them in a pile next to a large tartan tin. "Professor Beauchamp tells me you saw something potentially... interesting, this evening."

"Erm... do you mean the sword fighting?" Harry asked, cautiously. McGonagall nodded.

"Yes, Mr. Potter- or rather, the people sword fighting," she confirmed.

"I didn't mean to... I saw it by accident..." Harry protested, but McGonagall silenced him.

"I'm not about to punish you," she said with a smile. "I merely want to know what you saw occur between Professor Ridley and Professor Snape."

Harry told McGonagall the same story he had now told the Gryffindors twice, Persephone a third time and Luna a fourth. He was beginning to tire of it. Why McGonagall was so interested, he really couldn't fathom.

"Did you happen to see anything else?" she asked. Harry still couldn't quite understand why she was so keen on discovering Alex and Snape's business; perhaps the staff had a bet, or something?

"Erm, Luna mentioned something- she said she saw them kiss," he added, hoping that with this new information, McGonagall would let him leave.

"Oh, really? Thank you for adding that, Mr. Potter. Most useful..." she trailed off, and Harry thought her expression looked rather grave- her lips had thinned so much, they were practically invisible, for one.

Suddenly, the fireplace nearby burst into green flames, and Persephone's head appeared.

"Minerva?" she called. McGonagall got up out of her chair.

"What is it, Persephone?" she asked. Persephone's disembodied head looked anxious.

"I'm afraid I could do with your help- we're having a little incident with Malcolm Baddock; he's cursed himself to the ceiling in protest at his Transfiguration lessons. We've managed to talk him round, except now he can't remember how to get down. I think it might be a Bubblegum hex, but I think the counter curse might do something worse because of the magic used to keep the ceiling up. 'Thought I should ask you..."

"I'll be right there," McGonagall announced, and Persephone's head disappeared from view.

"Wait here, please, Mr. Potter. Help yourself to biscuits," she instructed, tapping on a tartan patterned tin, before rushing out of her office, leaving Harry alone. He had a brief internal debate over whether he should actually adhere to McGonagall's request of helping himself to biscuits, which didn't last long. He reached over and began to open the lid, except that he found himself distracted by the pile of papers next to the tin. They were all about Alex Ridley.

Leaning over to get a better look, Harry spied a familiar looking scroll. Judging by the script and the now broken seal, it was clearly one that McGonagall had received during Dumbledore's reading. Harry was able to make out some of the writing that was visible on the small part of the long scroll that was opened out.

...firmly believe that only Alexandra will be able to do the right thing by him; also that she is the only one he will completely trust when I am no longer here. They have a bond even I cannot fully understand, except to say that their one chance meeting all those years ago changed his viewpoint forever, and having spoken to Alexandra myself, I have come to the conclusion that she had a similar epiphany.

However, I am concerned about exactly how this bond may manifest itself. I am certain that he cares for her quite deeply; whether this is a romantic attachment I do not know. Minerva, you need to investigate this possibility and perhaps nip it in the bud if at all possible. I know they are both adults and responsible for their own actions, but I fear where such decisions may lead, considering the political climate. It would put them both in danger, I am sure; furthermore, it could affect the working of the Order. Separately, I trust them both implicitly. Together, I am not so sure. You know as well as I do, ever since Severus was a boy, he has always been somewhat 'emotionally intense', shall we say? It could lead him into trouble.

I hope I am wrong, and if you find no just cause for concern if they do form such a partnership as I suggested earlier, then by all means, leave them be, and I shall be a happier man than if you have to...

The scroll was wound up past this point, and Harry thought it wise not to try and open it to investigate any further. Never the less, the words he had read were intriguing, not to mention quite vomit-inducing. Snape? Emotionally intense? Harry shuddered involuntarily at the implications. He just hoped his Potions teacher kept such behaviour to himself. Then Harry considered Persephone, and decided he had little to worry about; no single student besides himself, Ron, Hermione and Ginny had an inkling as to her relationship with Snape.

Harry pulled himself away from the scroll on McGonagall's desk, and knocked her tartan biscuit tin with his elbow. Quickly, he reached out and caught it before it fell onto the floor, and silently cheered himself for his swift application of Quidditch skills. Then he noticed a book had landed on the floor next to his feet with a thud. Carefully, he picked it up, and saw to his surprise that the spine was completely blank. He examined the cover, and saw the words 'Ridley, Alexandra J., 15/01/1980 to 27/01/1980' written by hand in the top right hand corner. Across the centre of the book, in huge angry red lettering that looked as though it had been stamped across it with a rubber stamp, were the words, 'CONFIDENTIAL'. Harry immediately opened it up.

Considering the book was so thick, it surprised Harry that there were relatively few pages in it. On turning the pages over, he realised that it was the pages themselves that were bulky- one of them was at least an inch thick. He flicked back to the start, and saw a bundle of folded papers were tucked away in a flap of the book cover, labelled 'Muggle Records'. Curiosity, as usual, getting the better of him, he pulled out the pieces of paper, and unfolded them.

West Yorkshire Metropolitan Police

Division: Bradford North

Report Number: BF197003

Time/Date of occurrence: 01:17 AM, 23/08/78

Location of incident: Nelson Street

Parties involved: Connolly, Peter; Halloway, Craig David; Jenkins, Anthony; Osbourne, Daniella Jane; Rankin, Terrence James; Ridley, Alexandra Josephine; Williams, Thomas Andrew.

Summary: Usual fighting. Appear to have formed some kind of gang, were caught harassing another group of youths...

Harry read on in amazement. There were at least five of these sheets, all concerning similar crimes and misdemeanours; vandalism, fights and disturbances that Alex had been in the thick of during the summers between the years of 1977 and 1979, where the records ended- unsurprisingly, seeing as she no longer inhabited Bradford at that point. Remembering the newspaper report in the Observer that Hermione had received earlier in the year, Alex's parents and neighbours presumably had no idea of what she got up to in her spare time. He refolded the police reports and slipped them back into the flap from where he had originally removed them. It was then that the actual contents of the book caught his eye.

Psychiatric Report: Session 1

Date: 15/01/1980

Subject: Ridley, Alexandra J.

Comments: Alexandra has been very reluctant to talk about recent events- I feel she is still very much in shock. Mme Maxine has been looking after her since her return, and claims she has been eating normally, but her sleep has been most disturbed. Mme Maxine has staunchly refused my original request to ask for permission from the Ministère de Magie to administer Veritaserum to the child.

Chose instead to ask her about where she was before the incident. Here, Alexandra was a little more open; she talked about going with a few Muggle friends to an 'Iron Maiden' concert in Liverpool. She explained that they took a train to the venue, and the band were 'proper metal', whatever that means. I probed a little into what happened after the concert. She became much more reserved at this point. Eventually, she spoke about how she and her friends got into a fight on their way from the venue to the railway station with 'some white boys that wanted a barney'. She said one of them 'bottled' her (which I believe is a Muggle term for breaking a bottle and inserting the broken end into somebody's face). She continued, and stated that the next thing she was aware of was her friends all lying on the ground, and that she was dragged away a big man in black robes and a white mask. She struggled, and another such figure managed to incapacitate her long enough to take her away. I asked her where she was taken, and she doesn't appear to know. She assumes her friends have been killed. I have already reported the incident to The UK Ministry, and Bartemis Crouch Snr has expressed a desire to speak to the girl, which I do not advise at this early stage.

Signed: Dr. Marie Cerveaux

Harry flipped forward a few pages, and found the one page that was an inch thick.

Psychiatric Report: Session 6

Date: 20/01/1980

Subject: Ridley, Alexandra J.

Comments: Alexandra spoke much more freely about the time which she spent under the scrutiny of one of You-Know-Who's Death Eaters. In fact, I have noticed an overall improvement in her disposition in the past few days. Mme Maxine states that she had now been sleeping fairly soundly, save for one of two more fitful episodes a couple of nights ago. I asked Alexandra to tell me more about the room which she was kept in; she claimed it was very bare, save for two chairs and a wand, which her captor carried with him at all times. I asked how she could be certain her captor was male- she claimed the way he moved and the way he spoke was not that of a woman. She steadfastly refuted any claims that her captor may have harmed her; she insisted he did not lay a finger on her. I asked what took place between them; she said they talked a lot. He was trying to wheedle out information from her that she didn't have, but she was adamant that she wouldn't say a word anyway. Apparently she overheard one of the men that brought her in claim that orders were to kill her whether she talked or not. I asked why it is she is still alive, at which she shrugged and said her captor helped her escape. I was convinced she was suffering from delusional episodes and merely believed this to be true in an attempt to mask what really happened. She seemed to pick up on this, and insisted she be allowed to show me her memory in a pensieve (see Penseive reproduction for further details). This showed her to be telling the truth on all counts. She could not explain why he helped her escape, and I must confess I am bewildered, too.

A representative from the British Ministry for Magic has been unable to glean much useful information from her. She has cooperated on explaining her whereabouts and her probable location; however, she has refused to help locate her captor. She has been asked for the wand he gave her (see Pensieve reproduction for further details), she claims to have lost it in the escape. As Mme Maxine is adamant the child must not be forced to undergo questioning whilst under the influence of Veritaserum, this cannot be proven one way or the other.

Signed: Dr. Marie Cerveaux

Harry scanned the page for anything that had the word 'Pensieve reproduction' printed on it, but could find nothing. Eventually, he spied a small picture of a bowl in the margin of the page. He stared into it, and saw that it was swirling. Carefully, he leant over the picture, and soon found himself flying through a swirling fog, until an image came into focus of a dark, spartan stone room. It was quite unlike any Pensieve Harry had ever leant into- and he had leant into at least two that he shouldn't have during his teens. He was not some kind of apparition floating through a memory this time; he felt more detached, as though he was watching a three dimensional moving picture, except judging by the clumping sounds and scuffling he could hear, this would not be silent.

A heavy iron door creaked open, and for the first time, he was aware of a black robed figure sitting in the shadows of the room. The figure jumped up and faced the door, and for the first time, Harry got a glimpse of the white, featureless mask that covered the figure's face. He was clearly watching a Death Eater. Judging by the shape and height of the figure's body underneath the black robes, Harry assumed it was a man, and he was soon joined by two larger, bulkier figures, also dressed in black robes and those white masks. They were dragging a young girl with them, and Harry wondered why it took two of them to do such a task. Then he saw the fight that the young girl was putting up.

"Get the hell off me, you cretins!" she yelled, fiercely, eventually kicking one of the bulky figures so hard in the groin, he doubled over, apparently unable to walk.

"Do something with that Harpy of a Mudblood!" he squeaked, angrily from his prostrate position on the floor. The thinner figure's shoulders twitched slightly, as though he was trying not to laugh. He then pulled out his wand and muttered some incantation, and the young girl was swiftly bound to a chair. She glared at the figure with a mixture of contempt, fury and fear, and struggled against her magical bonds. The figure turned to face her.

"Stop struggling. You're only making things worse on yourself," he drawled, and Harry though he felt his heart stop at the voice. It was Snape. Harry knew he was, or had been, a Death Eater, but seeing it first hand made him feel somewhat queasy. He assumed the girl was Alex, though she looked a lot different than the woman she was today. For a start, she didn't appear to have acquired that gold canine tooth yet, although the scars she now wore she had evidently received that night, for they looked fresh. To cap it all off, her hair was huge. Harry couldn't stop staring at it for at least fifteen seconds; it must have been twice the size of her head, and it made Hermione's hair look flat. Alex had clearly cultivated the look, though, for throughout her entire struggle, it hadn't moved so much as a millimetre. Her clothes looked reminiscent of someone who had just been to a rock concert in 1979- she wore a battered leather jacket and a ripped denim mini-skirt with safety-pins holding part of the seam together. Her tights were torn in a few places and she wore a pair of thick-heeled platform boots that explained why the Death Eater lying on the floor had been in such pain when she booted one of them straight into his groin.

Snape appeared to scrutinise her appearance, before leaning in to the only Death Eater left standing.

"Well? Were you under orders to beat the girl to a pulp and destroy half her clothes before you brought her to me?" he asked, in somewhat contemptuous tones. The other Death Eater held his palms aloft.

"Don't look at us, she was like that when we found her!" he protested. Snape turned his head to glance at her again. The Death Eater lying on the floor pulled himself up into a sitting position.

"She was being hit by a bunch of other Muggles...."

"Plus, they were all dressed like that," the other Death Eater continued. "Seems to me like another good reason to slaughter the lot of them!"

"Indeed," Snape replied, dispassionately. He pocketed his wand again.

"What does the Dark Lord want me to do?" he asked, in a low voice.

"Find out about the symbol of The Original Cross," the standing Death Eater explained. "Apparently, this Mudblood's been seen parading it around her neck. The Dark Lord wants to know why."

"So," Snape said, brushing his hands down his robes. "What does he want me to with her do if she doesn't talk?"

The standing Death Eater drew his finger across his neck and made a hissing noise in the back of his throat to emphasise his point. Snape nodded.

"And if she does?"

The two Death Eaters looked at each other, then the one standing drew his finger across his neck and made a hissing noise in the back of his throat again.

Alex was watching the whole scene, and she looked most disturbed by the proceedings. Snape shook his head.

"You know, I think you might have been a little too subtle there; our guest may not be entirely aware of the fate that befalls her," he hissed.

"Well, of course, we don't exactly want her to know we'll kill her either way- she might not talk then," the standing Death Eater replied. Snape put a hand to his mask.

"Just go. Both of you," he said, in a weary voice. The two Death Eaters left, shutting the door behind them. Snape locked it, and turned his attention to Alex.

"I do apologise for my two colleagues," he said. "They are in the habit of being somewhat, overzealous, shall we say?"

Alex stared at him as though he were quite mad, and said nothing in reply.

Harry watched as Snape pulled up a chair and straddled it, exposing the bottom of his trousers as he leant against the back of it and stared at Alex in much the same way she had done with Malfoy last month.

"Well, now you seem to have calmed down, you won't mind if I ask you a few questions, will you?" he said, his masked face only inches away from Alex's. She stared back defiantly.

"Go ahead," she replied, looking a lot more confident than she sounded. "I know my rights."

"Do you?"

"Yeah- anything I say may be used in evidence against me, but I've learned to keep my mouth shut," she replied, hotly. Snape pulled back a little.

"I think you will find the rules here are rather different than with the Muggle please..."

"Police," she corrected, haughtily. Snape ignored her words, and glanced at his fingernails for a moment.

"Here, you have no rights. I have questions that need answering, and you are going to answer them; failure to do so will result in... well, let's hope we never find out, for your sake more than mine," he finished. Alex was staring at his hand. Harry soon realised why, for Snape was holding his wand in his right hand, and tapping it rhythmically against his left.

Alex glared at him.

"Why should I tell you anything?" she spat. Snape stared hard at her.

"If you value your life, you'll tell me everything I wish to know," he replied, sharply. Alex laughed harshly.

"Nice try- I heard your gormless mates over there explain my chances of getting out alive," she retorted.

"But they're not here now- I am. I'm the one that gets to set the rules," he replied, smoothly. Alex continued to glare.

"Liar," she hissed, as Snape got up from the chair and began to slowly pace the room. "Anyway," she said, "I insulted your colleagues; aren't you going to spank me or something?"

Snape stopped pacing, and turned around to face her again. He folded his arms, and Harry could see that his wand was poking out behind the crook of his elbow.

"You are an insolent little girl, aren't you?" he commented, rhetorically. "No matter- to tell you the truth, insubordination adds a little spice to an otherwise fairly dull task. Besides, I'm supposed to punish falsehoods, not truths."

Alex smirked, which caused Snape to look up at her. She wiped the smile quickly off her face and merely stared back at him, saying nothing.

"Anyway, I have a job to do," Snape said, sitting back down in the chair opposite Alex. "Tell me your name."

Alex stared angrily at him.

"I'm not talking!" she shouted, defiantly. Snape shrugged.

"Actually, you are; just not about the right things..." He stared back at her, and she cowed slightly under his scrutinising glare.

"Alexandra," he said, after a short time. "What a pretty name."

Alex gawped at him.

"How did you know that?" she asked, curiosity clearly getting the better of her fear.

"I just know," he replied, flatly, before staring closely at her once more.

"Now, tell me what you know about The Original Cross," he ordered. Alex looked at him, and shrugged.

"Don't know what you're talking about," she replied. "I've never been into Folk Music."

Snape raised his wand threateningly.

"Answer the question, Alexandra," he said, in a warning tone.

"I told you; I don't know," she retorted, hotly. Snape leant forward and scrutinised her.

"Stop doing that!" she hissed, but he paid her no attention. Soon enough, he held his wand in his mouth and placed both his hands around the back of Alex's neck.

"Get off me!" she roared, struggling against her bonds with little effect. Snape removed his hands once he had got what he wanted; a small necklace that must have previously been clasped around Alex's neck. He waved it in front of her nose in much the same way Muggle Victorian hypnotists used to do with pocket watches.

"Now, where did you get this?" he enquired. Alex shrugged, but said nothing.

"Answer me!" Snape yelled. Alex jumped at the sudden increase in volume.

"My mam got it me, all right?" she yelled back. Snape inexplicably backed off at her words.

"Of course," he replied, softly. "I imagine you'd want it back; as a reminder..."

Alex's expression changed from one of indignation, to one of horror.

"Oh my God," she breathed. "They're dead, aren't they?"

"I would imagine..." Snape trailed off.

"You killed them!" she yelled, struggling so hard against her bonds that Snape fired off another hex to reinforce them.

"You bastards!" she screamed at the ceiling. "You'll burn in hell for this, even if I have to stoke the fires myself!"

Harry felt an almost overwhelming sympathy for the young girl spouting vengeance and anger as though she were possessed. He knew what it felt like to know your parents were dead, but to find out like that, when you could have done something, anything, to stop it from happening, had to be the worst.

"It was the worst," he reminded himself, thinking of how he felt when he saw Sirius fall through the veil, and was powerless to stop it. Looking across at Snape, Harry was stunned by the man's body language. He stooped a little; in fact, he appeared as though he was completely devoid of anger.

"Alexandra..." His voice was soft as he stepped towards her.

"You come another step closer, so help me God I'll rip your throat out with my teeth!" she shrieked, hysterically. Snape seemed to adhere to her warning, for he simply pulled the chair in front of her a foot further back and sat down on it, clearly waiting for her to calm down.

Harry found himself wishing that he could skip this part of the scene- it all just smacked a little too much of his own feelings when he was fifteen. It was a sobering mirror to look into. Then, he suddenly became aware of the pensieve scene whizzing forward, much like Dudley's video copy of Die Hard when he wanted to get to the particularly gory bits. After a few minutes of this, he caught a glimpse of Snape jumping to his feet with his wand raised, and he willed the scene to show at its normal speed again.

"You won't do it," Alex said, staring Snape straight in the eyes, and seemingly ignoring his wand altogether.

"Why not?" Snape taunted, waving his wand in a threatening manner.

"Because, you'd have done it well before now," Alex replied, smoothly, although Harry thought he could still see a flicker of fear behind her eyes.

"It's often more prudent to get your prisoner to talk before you hurt them," he replied, silkily. "Just in case speech becomes a problem."

Alex did not struggle- instead she left herself completely open to attack. Not that Harry thought she had much option, seeing as she was still magically bound to that chair.

"Well, go on then," she teased. "Hurt me. Make me bleed. In fact, why don't you just kill me? You've got to so it sooner or later."

Snape continued to hold his wand aloft, but he made no movement to cast any spell.

"Your wand hand is shaking," Alex noted, softly.

"A moment of weakness, that's all," Snape replied, though Harry could see that he'd pocketed his wand. Alex shrugged.

"I'm sure I'd do the same, in your position," she replied. "I mean, it's not exactly life or death for you, is it?"

"I'll certainly suffer for it," Snape muttered.

Alex surveyed him for a moment.

"You seem pretty young to be doing something like this," she commented, quietly. Snape looked at her.

"What makes you say that?" he asked, with a mixture of curiosity and vexation. Alex gestured at Snape's body with her head.

"You don't stand like a man. At least, not like one who's old enough to appreciate his place in the world is a worthwhile one," she replied, in an even tone. Snape's whole body stiffened as though he was about to pounce, but instead he just asked, "How old do you think I am, then?"

"About nineteen?" Alex suggested.

"Twenty," Snape replied, swiftly. Alex nodded.

"Young," she finished. "Not much older than me, really."

"Five years is a big difference when you're fifteen," Snape retorted.

"How did you know I was fifteen?" Alex asked.

"Same way I knew your name was Alexandra," he replied, and then they both fell silent, not quite looking at each other.

"What do you do here, anyway?" Alex asked, suddenly. Snape's back stiffened suddenly.

"What's it to you?" he snarled. Alex shrugged again.

"Just curious- I mean, I'm going to die, so it doesn't much matter what I know, does it?" she said, rhetorically. Snape made no movement to reply.

"So, what is it? Are you an interrogator? An assassin? A soldier?" She smiled briefly. "Or are you an errand boy, sent by a grocer to collect a bill?"

"What?" Snape asked, in his recognisably irritated voice. Alex smiled.

"Never mind, consider it a cultural gap."

"Like the Mr. Men," he commented, mostly to himself. Alex raised an eyebrow.

"The Mr. Men?" she asked, incredulously. Snape shook his head.

"Forget it; it's not important," he replied, sitting down on the chair and looking across at Alex.

"Why?" she asked, quietly.

"Why what?"

"Why did you choose to do this? Join some organisation hell-bent on wiping out a whole section of the population just because of their lineage?" she asked, hotly.

"Because, I believe in the purification of our race," he replied, smoothly. Alex smirked humourlessly.

"No, really- why did you choose to do this?" she asked.

"I told you," he replied, coldly. Alex shook her head.

"See, I don't buy that," she explained. "I reckon it's just another mask, like the one covering your face. Only this one covers your intentions. I've seen it all before; prejudice is never just about believing some self-righteous nutcase's idea of utopia. It's personal- always has been. The 'what's in it for me?' factor. You must get something out of it, otherwise it just wouldn't be worth the effort. So, I guess what I'm asking is, what do you get out of it?"

Snape said nothing for a good while. Eventually, he replied, "You're very cynical for one so young."

Alex shrugged.

"Not cynical- experienced. I've suffered from persecution all my life, one way or another. People impose their superiority on others to make themselves feel better. I doubt you're any different."

Snape appeared uncomfortable under her scrutiny, although Harry wasn't entirely certain, for he couldn't see his expression under that mask.

"So, what was it?" Alex continued. "Money? Power? Respect? Or do you just happen to have a thing for torture?" She smiled a little at her own joke, but Harry couldn't help but notice a sad look of resignation- as though she was fully expecting to die and was trying to make the best of it.

"Fine- probably the third one. Happy?" Snape replied, coldly. Alex shook her head.

"Not at all. You interrogate and torture people for a cause you don't care for? That makes me feel sick; sicker than I would if you truly believed it..."

Snape scoffed.

"Pray tell, why do I not care for such a cause? Plenty of people agree with the Dark Lord's ideas..."

"You knew about the Mr. Men," she replied, swiftly. "I'd accept a cold indifference to Muggles and Muggleborns, otherwise- but only someone who had befriended a Muggleborn would know about the Mr. Men. Besides," she continued, "we must've been here hours- not once have you called me a Mudblood. You've actually been pretty respectful, for someone who's supposed to despise me and my heritage."

Snape shrugged.

"It would hardly have done any good- I wanted answers, not to stoke the fires of your own hatred; your own desire for respect."

"Excuse me?" Alex sounded deeply offended.

"You've spent the past three years of your school holidays hanging around with Muggles fighting, spitting, attacking people who dare to overlook you because of your race. At school you do much the same thing- I believe you have come close to expulsion because of it."

"So?"

"So, you crave respect, and you consciously hurt the people who won't give it to you. Yet here you are, accusing me of sickening behaviour? That smacks of hypocrisy to me."

Alex grimaced.

"I'm nothing at all like you," she spat. Snape chuckled softly.

"Really? I beg to differ," he replied, coolly. "Not that it matters much- we've both chosen our paths..."

"In the long run, there's still time to change the road you're on. Well, that's what Robert Plant said. Or rather, wailed," Alex said, mostly to herself.

"Do you believe it?" Snape asked, with uncharacteristic softness. Alex shrugged yet again.

"He also said if there's a bustle in your hedgerow, don't be alarmed now, it's just a spring clean for the May Queen, so I'm not sure how valid his opinions are." She let out a loud sigh. "Anyway, let's get this over with. I can tell you're not exactly desperate to kill me- if it's any consolation, I'm not that desperate to die, either."

"You know, you're not my first; I've physically tortured before- I've even killed..."

"What stopped you torturing me?"

"Your age," Snape replied, simply. "It's one thing to harm an arrogant adult; quite another to do the same to a child. Just so you know."

"Just so I know," Alex repeated, before leaning back in her seat and bracing herself for what was about to come. There was a brief pause, as Snape halted the movement of his wand. Soon enough, he raised it, and whispered, "Finite incantatem."

Alex winced, then realised her bonds had been broken. Snape rushed towards her.

"What the...?" Alex's protestations were halted by Snape's hand covering her mouth.

"Shush!" he hissed, then, once he was confident she would remain silent, he removed his hand.

"What are you doing?" Alex hissed. Snape looked furtively around, then took the gold pendant out of his pocket, and his wand, and pressed them both into Alex's hand.

"There's a door behind that curtain," he whispered. "Go through it and keep turning left. Climb the first rope ladder you find. It'll bring you out somewhere in the Moors. Hail the Knight Bus down by raising your wand hand, and get the hell out of here!"

"But what about you?" Alex whispered. Snape pulled another wand out from under his robes.

"I always carry two- it's better to have two wands, and not need them, than to have one wand, and need a spare," he replied, quietly. He took a step back, and aimed his wand at the wall near Alex's head. He muttered some incantation, and a bolt of yellow light erupted from his wand, smashing a great lump of stone out of the wall.

"Now, curse me with something, and leg it!" he instructed. "They'll assume we had a fight and you escaped through the door which you were brought in through."

Alex did as she was told, and aimed her wand. She looked at Snape.

"How do you know I won't kill you?" she asked.

"Call it a leap of faith," he replied.

Suddenly, Harry became aware of movement sounds that didn't appear to belong in this memory. Quickly, he pulled his face up from the pensieve recording, and not a moment too soon, for he heard footsteps along the corridor, then the staircase to the office began to revolve. McGonagall, having returned from her dealings with Malcolm Baddock, was staring at Harry, who was sitting in his seat trying to look innocent.

"Oh, good grief, Mr. Potter- I've left you here for hours! I'm sorry, get yourself off to bed," she ordered, although Harry thought she looked a little anxious.

"Are you alright, Professor?" he asked. McGonagall whirled around to look at him.

"Yes... yes, I'm fine, thank you, Mr. Potter," she said. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight Professor," Harry replied, before he exited her office and walked back to his common room.

As he approached the common room, Harry looked at his watch. It was almost midnight.

"Bertie Bott," he whispered to the Fat Lady, who looked very annoyed at having been woken up at such an ungodly hour.

"You'd better not start making a habit of this again- I've had more than my fair share from the last six years," she yawned, before the portrait swung away and allowed Harry access to the Gryffindor common room. Not wishing to cause too much of a disturbance, he crept quietly in.

Ron and Hermione were indeed waiting up for him, although judging by the way Hermione's head had flopped against the arm of her chair, she hadn't managed to stay awake. Ron was watching over her, a curious expression on his face, and Harry saw him tuck a tendril of her hair behind her ear.

"Hi, Ron," Harry whispered. Ron jumped out of his skin, and knocked Hermione's head off its resting place, waking her up.

"Oh, hello, Harry," she yawned. "You're finally back?"

"Hi, Harry!" Ron exclaimed, jumpily. "I was just... Hi!"

Harry slumped down in a chair.

"Do you know what McGonagall wanted to talk to me about?" he asked. Ron looked blankly at him.

"Go on," he said. Harry sighed.

"She wanted to know what I knew about Alex and Snape," he replied. Hermione and Ron exchanged glances.

"What? Why?" they asked.

"Two very good questions," Harry replied, wearily. "I thought they had some bet on, or something. Then I got a quick peek at Dumbledore's scroll to McGonagall. The bit I saw was really strange- he was asking her to keep an eye on them both!"

Ron appeared to mull this over.

"Again- what? Why?" he asked. Harry shrugged.

"I'm not sure. He seemed concerned it might be dangerous for them both to 'form an attachment'- well, those were his words..."

He explained about Alex's Muggle police records for juvenile offences, and the somewhat disturbing pensieve scene reproduced in her psychiatric reports, though he wasn't entirely sure he fully understood what he was explaining. The whole thing had sent shivers down his spine- for a start, he had only ever seen Snape appear so vulnerable once before, and funnily enough, that was the result of a Pensieve too. Perhaps what bothered him the most was Alex, the feisty leader of the Brethren of Tyr, the woman who had made Malcolm Baddock cry and had put the fear of God into most of the students within her first fortnight of teaching. In that scene she had been a frightened little girl, angry at her treatment and clearly vicious in her retaliation, judging by the police records she had acquired throughout her teens.

"Stockholm syndrome," Hermione said, inexplicably.

"Huh?" Ron exclaimed. Harry made no noise, for Ron had covered everything he had wished to say.

"Stockholm syndrome," she repeated. "It's a psychological condition where a captor and hostage form a sort of co-dependency. It's not really known why- I think it's supposed to be a combination of survival tactics and emotional vulnerability. Perhaps Dumbledore was worried that Alex and Snape might become drawn to each other because of this; I mean, in a way, they both kind of rescued each other. Snape let Alex go, whereas Alex showed Snape the light, as it were."

"That's ridiculous!" Ron scoffed, looking around. Then he looked at Harry with desperation in his eyes. "Please tell me it's ridiculous," he begged. Harry shrugged.

"Who knows?" he said, quietly. "It would explain why Persephone was concerned, I suppose- Alex is her friend, and her boss. Having her do something like this wouldn't be the wisest move the Brethren could ever take..."

"Anyway, Ron, it's just a theory," Hermione confirmed. "They could be worried about nothing. Really, can you imagine Snape developing a psychological disorder?"

"Yes," Ron argued. "It would go well with the personality disorder he currently has."

"What personality disorder?" Hermione asked, her eyes narrowing.

"The one that makes him a git!" Ron retorted.

"That's not a personality disorder," Hermione replied, stretching her arms above her head and wriggling in her seat. "That's just his personality."

She yawned, and dragged herself to her feet, before standing still.

"You off to bed?" Ron asked. Hermione shook her head.

"I might just sleep here," she moaned. Ron put an arm round her shoulder.

"We'll help you up to your dormitory," he announced. Hermione looked askance at him.

"Ron, you know you can't go up the stairs to the girls' dormitory- they're magically enchanted to prevent boys from getting up there," she lectured.

"Well, you could sleep in our dormitory," Ron suggested. Hermione laughed, and removed Ron's arm from her shoulders.

"Yes, because that wouldn't look odd, would it?" she said. "I can just about manage to climb up a flight of stairs, anyway. Goodnight," she announced, before stumbling off up the staircase to her dormitory.

Harry looked across at Ron, who shrugged.

"I was only trying to help," he protested, before they both made their way to the boys dormitory.