The Man of the Moment

Chapter Seventeen: Keeping it in the Family

The rest of Harry's lessons that day passed in something of a blur, and he found it hard to concentrate on anything except the fact that two separate people had prophesised that his sister was going to die. Again. Not to mention that Snape was going to betray them all. Harry did his best to try and recall any situation where a prophecy had not come true, but then, his only real point of reference was Trelawney, who didn't feel satisfied unless she was teaching her class about gruesome deaths that had been predicted by some famous Seer, and had come spectacularly true. He thought briefly about asking Firenze, but he doubted he could give him a straight answer one way or the other, either. Firenze spent a lot of time reading the skies, and finding they didn't say a great deal that was tangible evidence for anything.

"Harry, did you get that?" Ron asked, suddenly. Harry jumped.

"What?" he asked. Ron looked at him sympathetically.

"Professor Flitwick just assigned us some more homework. Don't worry- I actually remembered to copy it down," he explained, whilst leading Harry out of the Charms classroom.

"What have we got now?" Harry asked. Hermione sighed.

"Harry- it's five o'clock. It's dinner time now," she replied. "Oh, please don't think on that prophecy too much!"

"Why not?" Harry asked. "You said yourself they're real things."

"Yes, but I share a dormitory room with Parvati and Lavender, remember? They're constantly going on about how prophecies are tricky things to decipher accurately..."

"I think this one was pretty clear. Snapes die, my sister dies, Snape is a traitor," Harry retorted, as he descended the nearby staircase, and found himself almost knocked over by the sudden appearance of Alex rushing down the stairs at twice the speed he was.

"Oh, sorry, Potter," she replied, briskly, before turning back around and continuing her speedy descent. Harry noticed, with some curiosity, that she was carrying a vial of some description in her hand, and doing her best to conceal it from general view. He stopped briefly in bewilderment, and Ron and Hermione soon caught up with him.

"Harry, look, you shouldn't worry until the Order have discussed it," Hermione insisted. Ron laughed darkly.

"Now, that's going to be a fun meeting," he commented. "How exactly are they going to start things off? 'Hi, Snape- are you planning to turn traitor on us any time soon? Your wife seems to think you will.' I can just imagine the carnage."

"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed, glaring at him disapprovingly. Ron shrugged.

"I'm just telling it like it is," he retorted.

They reached the end of the staircase, made their way down another, and soon found themselves at the end of the long corridor that led to the Great Hall.

"I wish these staircases would have a rest now and then," Ron complained. "They've definitely been moving around more than usual!"

Harry nodded in agreement, then stopped dead in his tracks. About five yards in front of him, he could see Draco, flanked once again by Crabbe and Goyle. He groaned inwardly- the last thing he needed right now was to face off with Draco. The mood he was in at the moment, Harry was sure he'd probably get himself expelled for cursing Draco into so many pieces; Hagrid would be able to use his remains to sprinkle on the cabbage patch as fertiliser.

"Hang on; let's just wait a second until they've gone," Harry said, gesturing towards Draco, Crabbe and Goyle. Hermione nodded, and pulled him and Ron into a nearby alcove.

"That's not like you, Harry," Hermione whispered.

"I've got enough trouble following me right now; I can't be bothered with Malfoy, too," Harry explained. Hermione beamed.

"That's very sensible of you," she remarked, approvingly.

As they waited for the three Slytherins to depart, Harry was able to hear their hushed conversation.

"You know you shouldn't be doing this, Draco..."

"Why not, Vincent? It's not like he's got anyone else to help him, is it?"

"That isn't the point- you shouldn't even be speaking to him!"

"Are you going to grass me up?" Draco demanded, hotly.

"No... but that doesn't mean I agree with it," Crabbe replied.

"Me neither," Goyle added, emphatically.

"You two have got really short memories- do you not remember both your dads ending up in St. Mungo's last year? And then getting chucked into Azkaban?" Draco spat, angrily. "I know they got out, but that's hardly the point..."

"That was their own fault. I don't understand why you can't..."

Upon hearing their footsteps echo away towards the Great Hall, Harry peered around the alcove, and motioned for the others to follow. Ron looked most displeased.

"You know, I don't particularly enjoy hiding from Malfoy," he said. "Why should I be the one to hide from that stupid git?"

"Ron, were you listening to any of that?" Hermione demanded. Ron shrugged.

"Yeah. Didn't sound good," he replied.

"No, it really didn't," Harry added. If Draco was up to something so dire, it had resulted in his loyal cronies deserting him for over a term; it had to be bad. The fact that he had brought up the fate of Crabbe and Goyle senior- whom Harry was certain had been put in St. Mungo's by their current Transfiguration and Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers- was an even greater cause for concern.

"Do you think we should tell Persephone and Alex?" Hermione asked. Ron nodded.

"I think so. It can't hurt for them to keep their eyes open, at any rate. I wonder who Malfoy was on about?" he mused.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

"The bloke that didn't have anybody else to help them," Ron replied.

They walked along the corridor in silence, each deep in thought over the conversation they had just heard. Today was just getting stranger and stranger- Alex suddenly developing powers of the Inner Eye, Snape being prophesised as a traitor to the Order by two separate seers, Draco trying to help someone do something that his friends didn't approve of...

As they passed the Staff Room, Harry soon discovered the day was about to get even stranger.

"Perhaps Persephone and Alex are in here- we should knock," Hermione suggested, then stopped before she rapped her knuckles against the doorframe of the open door.

Alex and Persephone were standing in the otherwise deserted Staff Room, and they were both staring at a small vial that Harry has seen the former holding just ten minutes ago. He noticed this time that it contained an orange coloured potion. Persephone began flipping through a small chart she held in her hands, as Alex paced anxiously across the room.

"So, what does orange mean?" Alex croaked. Persephone read off the chart.

"Well, blue is negative, but a blue bubble at the bottom of the vial shows the kit is working..."

"Yep, got that. What does orange mean?" Alex asked again.

"Pink means you've got a positive result," Persephone continued, but was interrupted by Alex.

"What does orange mean?" she asked again, through gritted teeth. Persephone skim read along the chart, then stopped suddenly.

"Ah," she said, quietly. Alex stared wildly at her.

"Ah? What does that mean?" she demanded.

"Calm down Alex, it isn't good for a woman in your condition..."

"Oh." Alex seemed unsure whether she was happy or worried by this revelation. Persephone pointed to an area on the chart, and Alex read it.

"It's twins, Al," Persephone said, and Alex nearly fainted on the spot. Persephone swiftly guided her into a chair.

"Breathe, Al, breathe," Persephone soothed, but Alex did not appear to appreciate her efforts.

"Twins? Twins!" she exclaimed, loudly.

"Shush!" Persephone urged. "Do you want all and sundry to know?"

"But, twins? There's no history of twins on my side of the family, so it must be your lot... Oh, why did this have to happen now, of all times?" she moaned. Persephone merely tutted.

"Well, you do know the simple answer to that question lies on the top shelf of the nearest Apothecary counter. The fact that it's still lying there and not in your possession is explanation enough," she replied, tartly. Alex glared at her.

"You really enjoy this moral superiority lark, don't you," she complained. Persephone merely looked at her, and wagged her finger.

"Tut, tut- just because you and my dad don't know the meaning of birth control, there's no need to take it out on me when you're faced with the consequences..." Her face softened. "What are you going to do?" she asked. Alex sighed, and buried her face in her hands for a moment.

"I don't know. Tell Severus, then figure it out from there," she replied, before her expression brightened a little. "To tell you the truth, I don't mind, not really. I'm not getting any younger..."

"Al, you're thirty-three. Plus, you're in the thick of a war campaign. I can think of better times to bring a life into the world..."

"Like when the parents are fifteen?" Alex countered. Persephone looked indignant.

"Now, that's hitting below the belt!" she retorted. Alex looked a little sheepish.

"I didn't mean to- I'm just saying; you weren't exactly born in conventional circumstances, and you turned out okay..."

"Is that the best I'm going to get out of my new step-mum?" Persephone asked, with a grin. Alex looked horrified for a moment.

"Christ, I didn't think about that! It's..."

"It's messed up," Persephone interrupted.

Harry looked at Ron and Hermione, and saw that they were all equally stunned.

"Wow," Harry managed to whisper.

"Bloody hell," Ron commented, "two more Snapes? That's scary- they can't all turn out like your sister, Harry."

Hermione fixed a forced smile to her lips.

"Well, I'd imagine now would not be a good idea to interrupt about Malfoy," she said, grabbing both Harry and Ron by the arm and escorting them into the Great Hall.

They hadn't even got as far as the Gryffindor table before Hagrid accosted them.

"Erm, we've got ter go to, yer know, a meetin'," he whispered, tapping his nose with his finger.

"Can't we get some food first?" Ron asked. Hagrid shook his head.

"Yer can get fed at yer mother's," Hagrid insisted. "This is very urgen'. I think it's about Alex and her prediction earlier."

Harry felt his stomach tighten in dread. The Order were going to want to dissect every last syllable he had heard Alex mutter earlier in the day, and he wasn't sure he felt ready to do that. He presumed McGonagall had considered this, which explained why Hagrid insisted on Ron and Hermione's attendance as well.

"It'll be all right, Harry," Hermione soothed, resting her hand on his arm. Harry looked at her and managed a smile.

"I know," he replied, in what he thought was a pretty unconvincing voice. It was clear from the look on both Hermione and Ron's face that they agreed wholeheartedly.

Following Hagrid, they exited the Great Hall and headed up the stairs towards McGonagall's office, only to find themselves careering into Snape, who was running down the stairs holding a small envelope as far away from his body as was physically possible.

"Watch where you're going!" he spat, angrily, as he pulled away from them and ran off.

"What's bitten yeh, Sev'rus?" Hagrid called after him. Harry wasn't amazed when Hagrid did not receive a reply. Snape merely continued to run away, not taking his eyes off the small envelope in his hands. Harry noticed that Snape pulled out his wand and swiftly closed the doors of the Great Hall with a muttered incantation as he passed. Hagrid didn't seem particularly offended; he just chuckled, before carrying on up the stairs.

They hadn't got far before they heard a loud rumbling, followed by a supremely shrill, and an incensed voice- the type of voice that could peel paint off the skirting boards. Harry recognised the owner immediately. It was Porphyria Beauchamp, Snape's older sister- and Persephone's custodian.

"You stupid boy!" Porphyria's voice echoed furiously. "After everything you said to me, you've gone and done the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard! You're both so different- I don't care what you might think. Do you not remember what happened to Mum and Dad? Do you not remember what happened to you? I'm even more furious I can't express my anger more completely, because- yet again- of your idiotic behaviour! In the name of Merlin, does anything register in that thick head of yours? It's times like these I just feel like giving up- you'll be the death of me one of these days, Severus Snape!"

Ron looked as though he was about to explode with laughter.

"Blimey," he sniggered, "Snape, with a Howler? I didn't think I would ever see anything as funny in my entire life. I've truly been blessed- that's not something everyone gets to see..."

"I'd imagine everyone got ter hear it, Ron," Hagrid replied, with a fond smile. "Porphyria was ne'er one for beatin' around the bush."

"You know Porphyria?" Harry asked. Hagrid nodded.

"Yeah, 'course I do. She was here at Hogwarts; a good ten years before Snape, mind- there was a pretty big age gap between the two of 'em. Acts like his mother, she really does- mind yeh, it's more than Mrs. Snape ever did..." He trailed off suddenly, evidently aware he had elaborated a little more than he'd meant to.

"What was she like at school?" Hermione quickly asked, in what Harry presumed was an effort to change the subject slightly.

"Oh, she was pretty much ter same as she is now," Hagrid replied. "Nice, if yer got on the right side of her; a livin' nightmare if yer didn't. She didn't cultivate that impressive voice of hers, either- she must'a bin born with that skill."

They soon reached the stone gargoyle on the third floor, or at least, where the stone gargoyle would have been, had it not moved away to reveal the revolving staircase. Harry saw that McGonagall was already expecting them, for she was standing at the bottom of the stairs to her office, looking at her watch.

"Rubeus, where have you been?" she demanded. Hagrid looked suitably apologetic.

"Sorry, Minerva," he replied. "Jus' saw Sev'rus. Looks like he's had a letter from..."

"Porphyria Beauchamp, I heard," McGonagall replied, dryly, before ushering them onto the revolving staircase to her office.

A quick Floo journey later, and Harry found himself in the Drawing room at number 12 Grimmauld Place, alongside Ron and Hermione. Mrs. Weasley had cheerfully brought in some dinner for them, and they were eating away, whilst a strained debate took place around them.

"We've got about an hour before Severus returns," McGonagall explained. "We need to sort out exactly what Alex prophesised, and what we're going to do about it."

"What's there to decide?" Moody asked. "He's a traitor. We're in far too dangerous a situation to risk him finding out anything else about the Order."

"So, what exactly do we do about it?" Kingsley Shacklebolt asked. "He knows far too much as it is. We'd have to memory-charm him..."

"I think we're getting ahead of ourselves," Lupin countered, calmly. "Prophecies are tricky things, after all- and whatever personal opinions we might hold about Severus, he has not let us down."

"What about when he was supposed to teach Potter here Occlumency?" Moody queried. Lupin grimaced briefly.

"Well, apart from that time- and the situation was a little more complex than that summary suggests," he replied, carefully.

"What about that time in my third year, when he tried to get your soul sucked out by a Dementor?" Harry asked, unable to contain himself.

"That... that, again, was a little more complex than you're making out- he did believe me to be in cahoots with a serial killer," Lupin replied, calmly, though it was clear to Harry that the man was suddenly feeling rather weary. Not wanting to cause Lupin any more discomfort, Harry merely went back to eating his bacon sandwich that Mrs. Weasley had lovingly prepared.

Persephone, who up until that point had been slouching in a chair with her feet up on a nearby table, swung her legs up and over said table, and sat up, resting her elbows on her knees.

"What does the prophecy say?" she asked. McGonagall began to pace.

"We'll get to that, Persephone," she explained. Persephone did not look mollified by such an answer.

"I would rather like to hear what Alex had to say," she continued. "After all, it is the reason you've all decided my dad is going to sell us out to Voldemort- which also translates as, sell me out to Voldemort."

"Mr. Potter, would you be so kind as to furnish Persephone with the details?" McGonagall asked, and Harry noticed she gave Persephone a surreptitious look of concern.

"Yeah, I think it would help if we all got to hear it," Tonks added.

Harry broke off from his bacon sandwich and stared around the room. He really hadn't been relishing the prospect of reciting Alex's prophecy whilst Persephone was present, considering the unpleasant nature of its content.

"Oh, come on, he's still eating!" Ron protested, then swiftly added, "Sorry, Professor," when faced with McGonagall's withering stare. Harry put down his sandwich.

"It's okay," Harry piped up, and began to recite what he had heard; about the climax of Voldemort's evil, the lineage of the Snapes being annihilated, and the youngest boy betraying the Order.

Once he had finished, Persephone looked quite pale.

"Alex seems to think that Severus is the one the prophecy is referring to," McGonagall explained, quietly. "He is the youngest male member of your blood family, and he fathered you when he was still a child himself..."

"Hang on a moment," Persephone interjected. "Let's back up. Forget the oblique reference to Severus turning traitor- I'm quite concerned about the bit that refers to the Snapes being annihilated!" Her voice became steadily more agitated as she spoke.

"Persephone, you are a Beauchamp..." Lupin began, in a placating voice, but this merely resulted in Persephone jumping out of her chair.

"In name!" she exclaimed. "As far as blood goes, I'm a Snape- and in prophecies, that's all that matters!"

"Let's not jump to conclusions..."

"Easy for you to say, Remus- you're not the one who's just had their entire tribe's death prophesised!" Persephone retorted, hotly. Lupin sighed.

"Persephone, prophecies can be very woolly at times," he soothed, though Harry could tell he was getting irritated, for he kept massaging his forehead with his thumb and index fingers, as he had done during their Apparation lessons.

"Well, 'The lineage of the Snapes will be annihilated' seems pretty clear-cut to me!" she ranted, before slumping back down in her chair. "Great. I'm going to die. Again!"

Rather that sounding fearful or pensive, Harry thought Persephone seemed thoroughly irritated by the whole affair- as though it were an issue of missing the deadline for returning her library books by a day, and having to pay a large fine because there were so many, rather than the issue of losing her life.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, woman! You've died twice already- what's a third time going to matter?" Aberforth demanded, in one of his rare outbursts. Persephone shrugged.

"Evidently very little- we're all far more concerned about my dad, but oddly not the fact that he's been prophesised to die as well," she replied. Harry noticed various members of the Order suddenly looked rather sheepish.

"We didn't really think about that," Hestia Jones admitted, quietly. Kingsley scratched the back of his bald head.

"Hmm... well, that does lead us to one big question- how can he betray us if he's going to die?" he asked. Arthur shrugged.

"You know, he could always betray the Order, and then die," he suggested, matter-of-factly. "Alex's prophecy didn't exactly give dates."

Kingsley nodded.

"True. This is a puzzler," he commented.

"Let's look at the facts," Lupin pointed out. "Severus was, for a time, working as a Death Eater. He spied for the Order for a couple of years- now, bear in mind Voldemort kept growing in power until he met Harry as a baby. He didn't jump from a sinking ship; he swam from what looked like a safe bet. Now, it is possible that he could have been spying for Voldemort, by pretending to spy for the Order, but surely Voldemort would know the full details of that prophecy, and so he wouldn't have attacked the Potters..." He trailed, off, evidently a little upset by his thoughts of Harry's parents.

"That's true," Hagrid agreed. "Besides, Sev'rus has done more than his fair share o' lookin' out fer Harry, and it's pretty obvious that he and Harry don' exactly see eye to eye..."

"Which could mean he's just playing along to convince us he's on our side; or that he knows more than he's letting on," Elphias Doge countered.

"Or, it could just mean he's doing his job," Persephone retorted, testily.

"He did save my life last year," Hermione piped up, meekly. "That sort of makes me trust him."

"But, what if that was another example of him showing us how committed he is to the Order- for all we know, Voldemort could have set that up in order for Snape to help rescue the Grangers," Bill commented.

"Oh, and Ioan Desislav was sent to Harry's place to add further credence to the tale?" Persephone asked, with a hint of sarcasm in her tone. Lupin looked at her.

"Persephone, you do realise that's possible, don't you?" he asked, gently. Persephone said nothing, but her expression was very closed. Harry imagined she had done with her emotional outbursts.

Tonks sighed heavily, and slammed her hand on the arm of her chair.

"Oh, this is ridiculous!" she exclaimed. "We're going round in circles!"

"Tonks is right," McGonagall said, quietly. "We can't prove one way or the other what Severus is planning. We can't even get our best Legilmens to see what his motives might be, because he currently is our best Legilmens!"

Persephone looked at McGonagall with amazement.

"You mean, none of you lot are any good?" she asked. McGonagall shook her head.

"One or two of us can perform Legilmency and Occlumency, but not to the extent that we could penetrate Severus' defences," she replied, clearly irritated by her own admission.

"Why do you ask?" Lupin enquired.

"It's just me and Alex are pretty hot- it's standard training if you join the Brethren," Persephone replied.

"That won't help if Severus hasn't yet decided to betray us," Arthur pointed out. "The prophecy might be referring to something that will happen far off in the future, perhaps something Severus hasn't even considered yet."

"And so, we're back to square one," Bill said, raising his hands in the air in exasperation.

"Have you any idea how Alex is going to take this?" Persephone asked. "You do know she's pregnant, right?"

Moody, mirroring the expressions of everyone else in the room, looked horrified.

"By whom?" he asked. Persephone looked askance at him.

"The Man in the Moon- who do you think?" she replied, indignantly.

"Oh dear," Charlie said, before emitting a low whistle.

Lupin also looked equally disconcerted by this new revelation as everyone else in the room, though his voice was remarkably calm.

"Let's not think about that right now, and just try to concentrate on the prophecy. What can it actually tell us that might be helpful?" he asked, as he began to pace along the fireplace, chewing on one of his knuckles as he thought.

"What was it, 'By the darkness of the ravished sun, the climax of the Dark Lord's evil will flourish. On that day, he will descend upon the innocent, and there will be no escaping his wrath'? These prophecies are hardly explicit when it comes to actual facts, are they?" Tonks commented.

Persephone had curled up in a chair, and was staring at the wall.

"An eclipse," she said, suddenly.

"An eclipse?" Hestia Jones asked. Persephone nodded.

"Yeah- 'the darkness of the ravished sun'. Many Muggle legends talk about how, in ancient times, an eclipse was meant to signify some kind of monster trying to devour the sun. That sounds like being ravished to me- well, one of the less fun ways of being ravished, at least," she replied. Lupin clicked his fingers and nodded excitedly.

"It's possible- I mean, that does make sense," he said. Persephone looked at him.

"Of course it does- I said it!" she retorted. Lupin glared at her and raised one eyebrow.

"Indeed," he replied, dryly.

"Any ideas when the next eclipse might be?" McGonagall asked. Persephone shrugged.

"Dunno, but I could check the Almanac," she replied. McGonagall nodded.

"Excellent- we'll do that as soon as we return to Hogwarts," she stated.

"So, we've got a time- any ideas about a place?" Kingsley Shacklebolt asked. Persephone shrugged.

"Not yet," she replied, before stating her apparent disgust at prophecies in general.

Suddenly, a bright flash of green light escaped from the fireplace, and Alex was stepping out of the fireplace. She looked weary, but pleased, for some reason.

"Right, what have I missed?" she asked. Persephone looked at her.

"So far? You've missed everybody decide that Severus is a traitor, and we should do anything we can to prevent him from sharing all of our secrets with Voldemort, short of killing him..." Her expression suddenly changed to one of astonishment. "Oh, wait- we didn't actually discuss that option. We'll put it to the vote, shall we?" she suggested, sarcastically.

"Persephone, that's being unfair," Lupin protested. "All we're suggesting is that we shouldn't dismiss any options yet..."

"Yeah, right- like everybody here hasn't already made their minds up. You've all been waiting for an opportunity to do this; I can see you practically salivating at the thought of getting shot of him!" she spat, angrily. Harry looked around at the various members of the Order, and they all looked a little uncomfortable at her words; McGonagall in particular looked very worried, and kept glancing in Persephone's direction with a most anxious expression etched onto her face. Lupin attempted to calm her.

"Persephone," he began, but was soon interrupted, for Persephone appeared to be in full flow.

"Do you want to know the reason Dumbledore wanted Alex to take over the running of the Order? It's because of Severus. He seemed to think that Alex was the only one who could see what he could offer the Order; the only one who would trust him. I thought that was daft, personally. I said as much to Al- why would these people he's worked with for years think so little of him?" She looked across at where Alex was standing. "Looks like I'm going to have to eat my words, Al!"

"Persephone," Lupin sighed, "that is not what we're thinking at all; I personally am just interested in..."

"And you!" Persephone yelled, rounding on Lupin as though he were the Devil incarnate. "You're the worst of the lot! Acting as though you respect him as an associate, when in truth you just think he's pathetic. There's a word for people like you, Lupin- hypocrite; and I think that's pretty pathetic, myself. At least Moody doesn't pretend to have any respect for him..."

"I never said I didn't respect the man! I'm just a little sceptical, is all!" Moody interrupted, but was ignored by both Persephone and Lupin.

"Oh, so that's what you think, is it?" Lupin said, with a curious laugh that Harry had never heard escape from his lips before. "Please, is there anything else about my character that displeases you? I'd hate to be bothersome," he retorted, in a very sarcastic voice. Persephone glared at him as though he had just given her the green light to launch into a fury.

"For Merlin's sake, Lupin, I'm insulting you and you're still sitting on the bloody fence!" she spat. "You've got a sponge for a backbone, haven't you?"

Lupin stepped closer to Persephone, and she followed his lead; until the two of them were so close, they were almost nose-to-nose. Or rather, they would have been had the top of Lupin's head reached further that Persephone's neck.

"Fine; if you want me to climb down from the fence, I will!" he sneered, his shoulders visibly tensing. Harry was stunned; he had never seen Lupin this angry. A swift glance at a stunned Ron and Hermione convinced him he wasn't alone. Oddly enough, it appeared from the expressions on the rest of the Order that they hadn't seen Lupin this incensed, either.

Persephone merely smirked condescendingly at him.

"Wait, let me guess- I'm just like my father. That seems to be the stock-in-trade response from anybody around here," she replied, in a bored tone of voice, which served to rile Lupin further.

"No; as it happens I don't think you're much like you're father- he is nowhere near as arrogant as you! You're so full of your own self-importance, I'm convinced you actually believe the entire universe revolves around you!" he spat.

"Better arrogant that a coward," Persephone retorted, hotly, folding her arms and looking down at Lupin.

They continued in this vein for quite some time, with various people urging them to calm down, and their pleas not being heeded by either party. Finally, just when it looked as though Persephone and Lupin were going to draw wands and duel it out, Alex roared at the top of her voice exactly what she thought they ought to do with the prophecy, which served to make Persephone and Lupin silent, Ron snigger, and Mrs. Weasley blush.

"Alex!" McGonagall exclaimed, in outrage. Alex looked at her in defiance.

"You wanted my opinion; that's my opinion," she replied. "I love Severus, and I trust him. I believe in him."

"Let's not be silly about this, Alex," Lupin suggested, cautiously, having calmed down somewhat. "We all know how you two feel about each other, and nobody is suggesting for a moment you should try and turn those feelings off. All we're suggesting is that we move with extreme caution. Perhaps just be a bit careful about what we tell Severus- perhaps keep things on a 'need to know' basis?"

Alex frowned.

"I really don't know; I've never trusted prophecies much, myself. Knowing I can produce them hasn't really changed my opinion," she replied. "Perhaps we should wait for a sign?"

"A sign? You don't honestly expect some big neon lettering to appear confirming the authenticity of this prophecy, do you?" Persephone smirked, having also calmed down after her spat with Lupin. Alex ignored the poor joke.

"I mean, we should see if something else happens that was prophesised," she explained. "Has anybody come up with what the part of the prophecy pertaining to Voldemort's threat might mean?"

Persephone nodded.

"We think it might mean he's going to attack somewhere during the next eclipse, though we're not yet sure where," she replied, in a calm voice. Alex paced a little and nodded in agreement.

"Well, if that was the case, it would mean the vampires on his side would be at full strength- an attack in broad daylight would render them weakened by the sun," she explained. "I don't know if an eclipse would help the werewolves, though- Remus, have you any ideas?"

Lupin shrugged.

"I've never lived through an eclipse, and I don't think I've come across any references to their effects," he replied. Alex nodded.

"Now, I think we should concern ourselves with that part of the prophecy- where will Voldemort attack, and when. It isn't perfect by any means, but it's a lead we can work with. I can tell that none of you came to a resolution concerning Severus, so I'm going to take that decision away from you- nothing changes. We tell him everything."

The members of the Order looked around at each other; most of them wore frowns. Harry understood why, and Ron seemed to as well. Hermione, on the other hand, seemed to agree with Alex, although she said nothing.

"That's ridiculous!" Moody barked. "If you're going to use that prophecy to try and work out Voldemort's strategy, you can hardly ignore the reference to Snape."

Alex looked up at Moody.

"Oh, I know it's completely irrational," she explained, "but I'm willing to risk it. You forget that I've seen sides to him than none of you could even imagine, so I'm afraid I'm going to ask you to trust Dumbledore and myself on this one."

Everyone in the room seemed to concur, although there was much frowning and many dark glances cast around the room. Alex smiled enigmatically.

"Well, I'm glad we're all in agreement," she replied.

"Congratulations, Alex. About, you know..." Hermione trailed off, a little embarrassed at having brought up Alex's pregnancy. Ron nudged her in the ribs.

"What did you do that for?" he hissed. It didn't matter, though, for Alex looked across at Hermione and smiled pleasantly.

"Thanks, Hermione," she replied, unable to hide her pleasure. Harry presumed she had resolved her previous uncertainty over finding herself with child, or rather, with children.

"Is Severus going to be joining us soon?" McGonagall asked, stiffly. Harry presumed that she was most certainly not pleased about Alex being pregnant.

"He'll be along soon- he's messing about with some hemlock poultice at the moment, for his jaw. You know, it's still not got any better," Alex explained. McGonagall nodded.

"Yes, I know," she replied, before walking towards Harry, Ron and Hermione.

"We'd better get you three back to Hogwarts," she said. "Your disappearance at dinner will fuel enough speculation, without having you out of sight for the rest of the evening."

Harry was about to protest, but was cut off by Persephone.

"Relax, Harry- I'll fill you in on anything important. Just concentrate on your wandless magic training, and get your homework done," she instructed, with a smile.

"You're really enjoying this teaching lark, aren't you?" Ron commented. Persephone raised an eyebrow at him.

"Oi, I can dock house-points off you; remember that!" she teased.

Ron exaggerated a sheepish look, before grabbing a pinch of Floo powder and announcing, "McGonagall's office; Hogwarts!" clearly into the fireplace. He vanished, and Hermione swiftly followed him. As Harry prepared to leave too, he was distracted by voices.

"Good luck for Saturday!" Lupin and Persephone said, almost simultaneously, before catching each other's eye and looking swiftly away. Harry knew what they were both referring to- the Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw match that was to take place on Saturday. He felt his stomach tie up in knots; for after the close call of his last match against Hufflepuff, he was hoping for a decent victory.

"Thanks," Harry replied, noticing the uncomfortable post-row atmosphere between them. He hoped they would make up, for they were the closest things to adult family he now had left.

That Saturday, Harry sat in the Gryffindor changing rooms with an expression of utter misery etched across his face.

"Cheer up, Harry," Ron soothed. "It wasn't that bad..."

"Oh, come on, Ron!" Jack Sloper exclaimed. "We got absolutely creamed! There's a fine line between being a mate and lying through your teeth, you know."

"Leave him alone," Ginny retorted, sharply. "He's doing his best. It would help if you would actually aim the Bludgers at the opposing team!"

Jack looked stunned.

"Hey- that was an isolated incident!" he protested. "Besides, Madam Pomfrey said Natalie's nose would be fixed in no time! They're just scouring the pitch for it, that's all..."

Harry sighed. They had lost four hundred and seventy to twenty. Ravenclaw were thrilled- it had been their best victory ever since Harry joined the Gryffindor Quidditch team in his first year. Gryffindor, however... well, Harry hadn't needed to hear Jack Sloper's comments to gauge what the rest of the team were thinking. It really had been an atrocious game.

"Come on, Harry," Ron said, gently lifting at Harry arm to cajole him into standing up. "Hermione's waiting for us. There's no point in stewing over it- there's always next time."

Harry grunted non-committally, but he allowed himself to be coerced into getting changed out of his Quidditch robes. As he did so, he overheard Jack Sloper and Andrew Kirke discussing the game in the showers.

"I don't get it.... We weren't doing that badly the year before last, were we?" Andrew asked.

"Nah, we weren't- but then, we didn't have Potter as our Captain," Jack commented.

"Give him a break. Weasley was a bit off that year, but he pulled himself together- Harry might do, too," Andrew commented. Jack snorted.

"Yeah, but this is getting ridiculous- we're getting worse, not better!"

Harry thought he ought to be angry, as he pulled his jumper over his head and continued to hear their conversation. In truth, though, he wasn't. He had realised over the last week that he was actually trying to fit in a lot of responsibilities. He had his schoolwork, which was reaching astronomical levels in terms of both volume and difficulty this term. Not only that, but he was practising wandless magic at least twice a week, and Persephone was keeping him on his toes with Occlumency sessions about once a week to ensure he didn't 'get sloppy', as she put it. Small wonder, then, that he had to draw up Quidditch tactical plans in his lesson time. He had earned a detention with Snape on Thursday evening for just such an activity. Harry had cursed his stupidity ever since- he should have at least attempted it in Persephone's Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson; she was the Gryffindor Head of House, and she might have let it slide. After all, she was probably even keener on the game than McGonagall had been- and that was saying something.

He stuffed his Quidditch robes into his bag, and left the changing rooms with Ron and Ginny, trying not to think about today's dreadful defeat. Hermione was waiting for them in the underground corridor.

"Oh, are you guys okay? I was stuck in the library for the first half of the match, but I saw the last half..." Hermione trailed off, wringing her hands nervously. Ginny shrugged.

"Yeah. Not our best performance," she commented, dryly.

"Oh, please cheer up," Hermione implored them, as they walked towards the Hogwarts building. "After all it is just..."

Ron cut her off.

"Don't say it!" he ordered. Hermione looked at him.

"Say what?" she asked. Ron rolled his eyes.

"That it's just a game- it's more than a game. It's about House pride, the glory of victory, the..."

"Did you see how Persephone took it?" Harry asked, suddenly. Hermione shook her head.

"She looked a little... stressed," she replied, carefully. Ron snorted.

"I think the best we can hope for is that she didn't have a clutcher when Jack lost Natalie her nose," he commented, acerbically. Hermione looked quizzically at him.

"A clutcher?"

"Yeah, a heart attack," Ron explained. "You know, the chest pains would likely make you clutch at your chest..." He trailed off on seeing Hermione's withering glare.

"You are so tasteless," she huffed, before turning to Harry.

"How are you?" she asked. Harry shrugged.

"Well, there isn't much I can do about it now," he said. Hermione smiled sympathetically at him.

"That's true," she replied. "Besides, there's still the Slytherin versus Ravenclaw match to go- not to mention you've still got a stab at beating Slytherin later in the term..."

"Well, well, well, Potter- seems like somebody can't take the pressure," Draco Malfoy sneered, just as Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny exited the underground corridor and entered Hogwarts. Harry couldn't shake off the feeling that Draco had been hanging around the entrance just waiting for him to show up.

"Shut up, Malfoy; just because you can't even win a practise match against your own team!" Ron retorted, looking at Draco as though he were a particularly distasteful Doxy. Draco merely smirked.

"That's rich, considering you're talking to somebody who's managed to captain his team to flawless victories thus far," he drawled, arrogantly.

"Congratulations on your one, single victory, then," Harry replied, nonchalantly. "Personally, I always thought that constituted 'Beginner's Luck', but whatever makes you happy."

Draco's smug expression snapped to one of fury.

"You're just sore that your team has done so abysmally under you," he spat back. Hermione faked a loud yawn.

"Oh, go away, Malfoy," she said. "We've got better things to do than stand around listening to you talking rubbish."

And with that, she pushed right past him and walked up the stairs. Harry, Ron and Ginny followed, but not before Ginny made a snide remark concerning the next match between Ravenclaw and Slytherin that caused Draco to ball his fists up in fury, though he made no move to follow.

"Ooh, don't let him get to you, Harry," Hermione pleaded. Harry snorted.

"Seventeen years old, and he still thinks insulting my Quidditch skills is actually going to bother me," Harry said, in a voice laced with contempt. "I've got far more important things to worry about."

Hermione looked a little uncomfortable.

"I wish I knew what he was arguing with Crabbe and Goyle about earlier this week," she commented. Harry nodded.

"Me too. I told Persephone, and as far as I know, the Order and the Brethren are looking into it." He lowered his voice. "They've had a few sightings of the escaped Death Eaters; but nothing in the past fortnight. Alex and McGonagall seem to think Draco must be referring to one of them."

Hermione looked astonished.

"Really?" she gasped. "I know he's a little cretin, but I didn't think he'd stoop that low!"

Ron snorted.

"He proudly admitted he'd got his old man to attack your family- I'd say that was pretty conclusive," he replied, darkly.

Soon enough, they had reached the Gryffindor Common-Room.

"Password?" the Fat Lady asked, with a look of sympathy on her face. If Harry didn't know any better, he would have assumed she was aware of Gryffindor's spectacular defeat on the Quidditch pitch.

"Nimbus Incorporated," Ginny said, and the Fat Lady smiled.

"Cheer up, Harry- it's not the end of the world- even if those lot think it is," she said, clearly under the impression that she was soothing him.

"Thanks," Harry managed to say through gritted teeth, before the portrait swung away to reveal the entrance of a very quiet Common Room.

All of the Gryffindors present fell silent as Harry entered the room. He took a deep breath and looked up at them.

"Look, I didn't go out of my way to lose that match, you know!" he protested, as he felt accusatory looks burning their way into him.

"We didn't say that, Harry," Seamus replied. Harry glared at him.

"You didn't have to!" he spluttered. "The silence was incriminating enough!"

Dean looked confused.

"So, we're making you feel as though we are blaming you by not saying anything?" he asked. Harry nodded.

"Exactly," he replied, folding his arms in satisfaction. Dean nodded slowly. Neville looked at Harry curiously, as though he were on the edge of sanity.

"Would it help if we hummed?" he asked, stroking the warm, pink belly of Frank, Persephone's small dog that happened to wander around the Gryffindor Common Room as he saw fit.

Harry threw his hands up in the air.

"Oh, forget it!" he snapped, slumping into a nearby chair and slinging his kit bag somewhere near the fire. A few of the Gryffindors looked nervously at him, before they all began to hum a barrage of random songs; some wizard in origin, some Muggle, and a few that Harry couldn't place one way or the other.

Suddenly, the entrance to the Common Room swung open again, and Persephone entered the room, looking very puzzled indeed.

"Erm, guys, why are you all humming?" she asked, clearly concerned as to the mental state of her House. The students looked at each other uneasily.

"Okay," Persephone said, slowly, on receiving no verbal response. Harry got up out of his chair.

"It's my fault, Professor," he explained, hotly. "So, I'm just going to go so that there's no need for everyone to carry on."

He walked towards the exit of the Common Room, his cheeks burning with anger and frustration in a way he hadn't experienced since he was sixteen; and felt stupid because of it. Persephone grabbed him gently by the arm.

"Do you want to come to my office- let off a little steam?" she asked, quietly. Harry nodded.

"Yeah... yes, Professor," he replied, and let Persephone lead him out of the Common Room and into her office.

Persephone shut the door of her office, and Harry heard it magically lock with an odd clunking sound. She gestured towards a chair opposite her desk, and Harry sat down, eyeing a large portrait frame displayed on the back wall. It contained a blank canvas, and was completely at odds with the rest of the room, which seemed to be devoted to weapons and books. Persephone sat down in the chair behind her desk and obscured Harry's view.

"Come on, Harry- what's up?" she asked, sympathetically. Harry looked at the floor.

"I'm sorry about the scene in the Common Room," he said, numbly. Persephone shook her head.

"Don't worry about it. I get that a lot, especially this year. Voldemort's attacks are becoming more prevalent, and that's a hard thing for kids to get their heads around," she explained. "That's why I have an open-door policy; except when it's closed. I want to know what's on everyones' minds. Besides," she added, "sometimes I need to see the kids. That's awful. You know, if any of their family members are killed, I have to usher them in here and break the news. I always classed myself as hard-hearted; but even I have difficulty telling a pupil that kind of information."

Harry nodded. He had noticed, on occasion, Persephone solemnly and discreetly asking Gryffindors to enter her office, and he had guessed that was the reason why. Being away from their families at Hogwarts meant the only other way they could find out was via Owl, and Harry presumed it was a little easier to soften the blow with a sympathetic Head of House by your side.

"I don't understand why this stupid match got me so worked up!" he moaned. "I'm seventeen- shouldn't I have grown out of all this?"

Persephone chuckled softly.

"Even when you're one hundred and seventeen, you'll still experience frustration and disappointment," she replied, as Harry sighed and dragged his hands over his face and through his hair.

"I hate this!" he groaned. "I hate not being able to plan decent Quidditch strategies, because I'm too busy protecting myself against Voldemort; I hate not knowing what he's going to do with me; I hate not knowing what I'm supposed to do with him; I hate..."

He trailed off, scared that one more word might cause him to embarrass himself; already he could feel the hot queasiness that threatened to engulf him and to cause him to shed a tear.

Persephone looked at him, and seemed at once to understand.

"We will know," she replied, firmly. "We will know everything, and Voldemort won't know what hit him. You will have ample opportunity to grouse about losing Quidditch matches, hang out with your friends and take your N.E.W.T.s, even if I have to personally kill every member of Voldemort's forces to ensure it."

Persephone seemed so serious that Harry wasn't entirely certain whether she was just trying to soothe him, or if she had genuinely planned this course of action.

"Never the less," she continued, "as irksome as the phrase is to us Quidditch fans, it is only a game..."

Harry nodded, and Persephone leaned closer to him and stared him straight in the eye.

"Unless we're referring to the Slytherin versus Gryffindor match later in the term," she warned. Harry couldn't help but laugh. Persephone looked at him with mock indignation.

"Harry!" she exclaimed. "I'm serious- I can't have my House team beaten by my father's; that would be the worst kind of shame!"

Feeling a little better, Harry soon found himself distracted, yet again, by the black canvas on Persephone's back wall.

"Erm, Persephone, why have you got a framed blank canvas hanging on your wall?" he asked, concerned that it might be a piece of Modern Art, and Persephone would be irritated by such a question. Instead, she merely grinned and jumped up out of her chair.

"Oh, this?" she asked, pointing at the item that had been distracting Harry ever since he had sat down. "This is a little something Faith cooked up in her spare time, and Alex asked me to stash it here for safekeeping. It's a Progeniture Portrait; it allows the user to see their entire family tree- not exactly the most useful thing in the world, but it is rather fun. Watch," she instructed, as she placed her right hand upon the surface of the canvas, and whispered 'Dextera; Cognatio Meus'.

Harry watched in amazement as lines of ink spilled out across the canvas from Persephone's hand; they travelled right the way up, down and across the canvas, until the entire screen was covered in thin lines and tiny names written in tidy script. Persephone removed her hand, and the image remained.

"Pretty impressive, right?" she asked, and Harry nodded in agreement. He stood up to get a closer look at the canvas.

"Of course," Persephone continued, "Faith hasn't managed to get it to show up exact birth dates yet, but for a first attempt, I think this is pretty nifty..."

"Oh; my name's on this!" he exclaimed. Persephone laughed heartily and clapped him on the back.

"Of course you are, you idiot- you're related to me!" she replied, shaking her head in amusement.

Harry smiled, but found himself staring at his neatly printed name; 'Harry James Potter (b.1980)'. A double-black vertical line connected him to a thin horizontal line, on which 'James Potter (b. 1960, d. 1981)' and 'Lily Potter (nee Evans) (b. 1960, d. 1981)' also sat. Along from that, a horizontal dotted line joined his mother's name to '******, *******, Severus Snape (b. 1961)', and another double-black line perpendicular to this one was linked to '*****, **********, Persephone Snape (formally Beauchamp) (b. 1975, d. 1981, 1990).'

"Persephone, why are there all those funny symbols next to your name? And next to Snape's?" Harry asked. Persephone smiled.

"Ah- I'd imagine the second set are our tribal names- I can see those, you see. You, being a Gaje, would not be able to see them- the magic keeps them hidden from you. The first set?" she frowned in thought for a moment, before snapping her fingers. "Of course- they'd be our birth names- the name your mother gives to you that nobody else knows about, and is a secret that dies with you. Mine shows up to me, but Severus', and indeed every other tribe members' shows up as a bunch of squiggles."

Harry stared agog at the huge spread of names. He could spot the Dursleys on it as well, for Petunia's name and birth date linked from the same parents that Harry's mother did. With a sense of sadness, Harry could see the dates of death for his grandparents and great-grandparents on this side. He scanned across to his father's name, and again saw a list of deaths- to his surprise, he saw that he had a few great-uncles, as well as two married grandparents and...

"Bowman Wright is my great, great, great, great..." Harry gave up, and instead added, "My ancestor?"

Persephone looked across at the top half of the canvas.

"It would appear so- he must have been rolling in it," Persephone mused. "He did invent the Snitch, after all. Think about it- that thing is still in mass production to this day. If he played his cards right, his family would still be getting tons of money from sales, even now! Wily old bugger."

Harry stared at the name.

"Well, I suppose that might explain why my parents left me so much money," he though out loud. Persephone looked at him.

"Well, well, well- we're old moneyed, are we?" she teased. Harry felt himself flush furiously.

"I didn't mean... I wasn't boasting, or anything," he mumbled. Persephone laughed at him.

"I didn't think that for a minute!" she replied. "I will say this, though; if there was one thing I could change about myself, it would probably involve being born into a very rich family- things are so much easier that way," she said, in a casual manner that suggested to Harry she really wasn't all that bothered about it.

"Aren't you?" he asked. "I thought the Snapes were a really old wizarding tribe?"

Persephone smiled darkly.

"You hit the nail right on the head there with the word 'tribe'," she explained. "It doesn't matter how old a tribe might be. For pity's sake, we're gypsies- when somebody dies, their belongings aren't distributed amongst the remaining relatives; they're burned. No tribe would accept a dead man's earthly possessions."

"Why not?" Harry asked.

"Because, to the tribes, death is a wholly unnatural process, and those who die are extremely angry about it. One of the reasons we refuse to touch the body of a dead person, or carry their coffin- besides the old story that touching the body of the dead condemns them to Hell, is fear of contamination, which affords the dead the chance to return in the form of a mulo and haunt us in an act of petulant vengeance," she explained, in an off-hand manner.

"But, that's ridiculous!" Harry burst out, before he was able to censor himself.

"We know that now, but these superstitions still remain. Hence no inheritance for the Snapes," Persephone explained.

Harry continued to look at the canvas in wonder. Persephone's family tree was a huge and sprawling one; he scanned over many names, such as Frederick, Angela and Octavius, when a name jumped into his eye-line, made noticeable by the angry red line that linked it to a '*******, ******, Muriele Snape (b. 1637, d. 1651)'. The name was 'Alfred Cuthbert Black (b. 1615, d. 1652)', and following his brother, Harry was able to trace the lineage of 'Sirius Black (b. 1961, d. 1996)', not to mention his entire family, including Bellatrix, Andromeda, Narcissa, their husbands and as a result, their lineages too. Harry counted the Blacks, the Malfoys, the Lestranges, the Tonks and the Weasleys without having to blink. He skimmed across the Snapes again, and noticed for the first time that '******, *******, Severus Snape (b. 1961)' was linked by a thin black line to 'Alexandra Josephine Ridley (b. 1964)', which in turn was linked to a huge family of Ridleys, Jacobs, Thomases... for a brief moment, Harry was sure he spotted Dean Thomas' name in the far left-hand corner of the canvas- the whole thing made his brain hurt!

"What's up?" Persephone asked. Harry waved his hand at the entire canvas.

"Do you realise we're probably related to half of wizarding England!" he exclaimed. Persephone peered at the canvas.

"I'd go for half of the wizarding British Isles, myself, but it's your call," she replied, cheekily. Harry wrinkled his nose at her.

"Very funny," he replied. "Anyway, I bet Snape would be thrilled to see he's related to Sirius, even if it is a link made three hundred odd years ago."

"Where?" Persephone asked, suddenly sounding rather curious. Harry pointed to the angry red line that linked 'Alfred Cuthbert Black (b. 1615, d. 1652)' with '*******, ******, Muriele Snape (b. 1637, d. 1651)'. Persephone's eyes widened, before she emitted a low whistle.

"What's the matter?" Harry asked. Persephone shook her head.

"Ooh- that's nasty. Do you know what that red line means?" she asked. Harry shook his head.

"No idea- I figured that the single-black lines meant related by marriage, and the dotted lines meant... well, illegitimacy, I suppose. The double-black lines clearly meant related by blood," he replied. Persephone shook her head.

"The red lines indicate the crime worse than all crimes," she explained.

"Murder?" Harry asked.

"Rape," Persephone countered. "In fact, I think I recall the tale. Porphyria told it to me once; it was one of those little legends that every family seems to have. The youngest of the Blacks apparently held quite a torch for this particular Snape girl; he would follow her night and day, professing his desires. Of course, she dismissed him- she was fourteen, and any self-respecting young tribeswoman sets her sights on a man from a fellow tribe; for it has always been about blood, just in a different way for us. This Black fellow grew impatient and... well, I'd imagine the word used was 'lustful', or something, and so he caught up with her whilst she was in Sherwood Forest, in Nottingham. Followed her until he found her alone and... again, I'm only hypothesising the kind of words used, but I'd guess at 'forced the friendship of his thighs upon her', if you get my drift."

"I do," Harry replied, quickly, not wishing for Persephone to go into any more detail.

"So, she fell pregnant; but died during childbirth. The elder men of the tribe wished to kill the bastard child, but the elder women protested, and so the little boy remained, and thus we had Black blood introduced to our line, so to speak," she finished.

"What happened to Alfred Black?" Harry asked. Persephone frowned.

"Well, he was unrepentant; those born to royalty seem to believe that people are there merely for their entertainment- and the Blacks were practically royalty in those days. So, the Snapes avenged the rape and death of their young daughter," she explained.

"How?" Harry asked.

"I believe they ambushed Alfred on a journey to Yorkshire, dragged him back to that very same forest in which he had claimed the innocence of the girl, and tortured him for days. Eventually, they slit his throat, and watched as he simultaneously suffocated and bled to death. Before he died, they severed his limbs from his body, and once he was dead, they beheaded him. The pieces of his body were sent to the four corners of this fair isle, with his head sent directly to the head of the Black household; a warning to any others who dared to try the same thing upon a daughter of the tribe," Persephone explained. "I'll give them something; when it comes to avenging their own, the Snapes are very thorough."

Harry felt himself blanch at what was possibly one of the most gruesome stories he had ever heard. He couldn't help but wonder if Professor Binns had any knowledge of such tales of vengeance and lust; if he had, he ought to have shared them in class. For a start, it would have ensured Harry and Ron paid rapt attention in class.

He looked across at '********, ******, Porphyria Beauchamp (b. 1949)' as it appeared on the canvas, and saw the thin single-black line that linked her to 'François Pierre Beauchamp (b. 1940)'. He quickly realised that Persephone had underestimated exactly how many families they were related to.

"Persephone; I think you'll find we're related to half of wizarding Europe," he teased gleefully, pointing at the large number of families that François himself was related to by both blood and marriages. Persephone grinned.

"Yeah, yeah; so what, we're well connected! I'd say that..." She stopped dead in her tracks, and looked horrified at what she saw.

"Persephone, what's the matter?" Harry asked.

"Get my dad, would you Harry?" she replied, in a quavering voice.

"What's up?" Harry persisted. Persephone waved her hand impatiently.

"Please, Harry, just find him and bring him to me," she begged. Harry looked at her with concern.

"Persephone; you're starting to scare me," he said, as kindly as he could. He watched as Persephone gripped the back of her chair and took a deep breath.

"Harry, please!" she cried. Thinking that Persephone was close to some kind of breaking point he didn't understand, he gently touched her hand.

"I'm on my way," he said, swiftly glancing at the canvas as he did so. It was then he realised exactly what breaking point Persephone was close to.

Porphyria Beauchamp's entry had changed. It now read '********, ******, Porphyria Beauchamp (b. 1949, d. 1998)'.