The Man of the Moment

Chapter Twenty-Two: Tribal Flaw

After much grovelling on Harry and Ron’s part, Hermione grudgingly accepted their profuse apologies concerning their decision not to tell her that, during their fifth year, S.P.E.W. had not been going down as well with the house-elves as Hermione had first thought. The trouble was, one of the conditions of their forgiveness meant that they could not make any derogatory comments about Hermione and Luna’s two-women crusade, and Harry could tell that Ron was having great difficulty in keeping to his end of the bargain.

“Well, we seem to be making some progress, don’t we, Luna?” Hermione explained during breakfast in the Great Hall. Harry nodded, and pretended to be utterly fascinated by the slow recognition of S.P.E.W. throughout the house-elf community of Hogwarts.

Just as Hermione had finished her diatribe on elf rights, Harry found himself distracted by Jeremy Archer’s piercing laugher, as the boy reached the Gryffindor table.

“What’s up with you?” Ron asked him, warily. Jeremy grinned.

“Me and Szeto have been chatting to little Angela; she’s well funny,” he explained.

“Angela?” Harry asked, sharply. As far as he was aware, she was supposed to be staying in the Forbidden Forest with the rest of her tribe.

Jeremy shrugged.

“Yeah; she’s some relative of Snape’s, I think. She was running around the Slytherin Common Room last night. It was hilarious- Malfoy made some comment about purebloods, and she just looked up at him, and bold as you like, asked him if it was true that they were all inbred! I nearly fell off my chair laughing- Szeto couldn’t keep a straight face either!”

“You two seem to have made firm friends,” Hermione commented. Jeremy attempted to casually brush his hair back with his hand; the result looked anything but.

“Yeah; we get on well,” he replied, nonchalantly, before looking around the Great Hall. He raised his hand and waved at somebody; Harry followed his wave and saw that Szeto Ang had entered the Great Hall with a small dark-haired girl who Harry recognised immediately as being Angela. Szeto smiled at Jeremy, and made a beeline to the Gryffindor table, much to the surprise of the Slytherins, and the chagrin of some of the Gryffindors.

Jeremy budged up and made room for Szeto and Angela to sit down. Szeto looked around the suspicious Gryffindors and smiled sheepishly.

“Hi,” he said to Harry, Ron and Hermione collectively, glancing at each of them in turn. Harry noticed he blushed a little upon making eye contact with Hermione, and Ron audibly snorted.

“Hi, Szeto, have you two been having fun?” Jeremy asked innocently, and Harry noticed out of the corner of his eye that Ron was sniggering. Szeto nodded.

“We went to see Hagrid,” he said. Angela nodded.

“Yep- we met his cute slobbery dog!” she enthused, happily. Szeto looked slightly less thrilled as he held up a sopping wet sleeve of his robes.

“Yeah, we did,” he pointed out, and Jeremy burst out laughing. Angela touched the damp sleeve of Szeto’s robe and giggled.

“Ergh, you’re wet with doggy slobber!” she teased, in a lilting voice. Szeto grabbed her head in a mock headlock.

“Oh yeah? Want to say that again?” he joked. She giggled.

“You’re wet with doggy slobber!” she sang, goading him. He grinned, and tickled her under her arm, at which she positively squealed with laughter and began to squirm in his grip.

“Stop it!” she giggled, her face pink with glee. Harry couldn’t help but smile; it appeared that Szeto had found himself a surrogate little sister.    

Suddenly, to Harry’s annoyance, a familiar figure soon turned up. Draco stood in front of Szeto and Angela, flanked once more by Crabbe and Goyle.

“Well, well, well- looks like the little blood traitor’s got himself a girlfriend!” he taunted. Szeto stopped teasing Angela and glared at Draco.

“Naff off, Malfoy,” he said, though Harry thought he looked a little nervous. Draco merely smirked.

“Tough words, Ang,” he spat. “Bet you couldn’t back them up!”

“Leave him alone, Malfoy!” Hermione said, in her best authoritarian voice. Draco looked up at her, and was about to respond, except Szeto had stood up and was now staring Draco straight in the throat, being too short to stare him in the eye.

“I can handle this, Hermione,” he replied, simply. Draco laughed out loud.

“Oh, dear,” he drawled. “This really is pathetic! Got yourself a little toyboy, Granger?”

“What?” Hermione snapped, and Ron surreptitiously slapped his own forehead with his hand.

“I keep telling you he fancies you, but do you listen?” he whispered.

Szeto had turned crimson at this point, and was balling his hands up into fists.

“You shut your mouth, Draco, before I shut it for you!” he threatened, at which Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle burst out laughing.

“Yeah, right- I’d like to see you try,” Draco sneered. As though anticipating the threat, Harry saw Szeto reach for his robe pocket, only to look very surprised. Harry assumed he had gone for his wand, only to find it no longer where he had put it.

The mystery as to where Szeto’s wand had gone was soon solved, however, for Harry saw that Angela was pointing it at Draco.

“Incendio!” she yelled, and the hem of Draco’s robes immediately burst into flames. It took a while for Draco, Crabbe and Goyle to notice this, and soon the three of them were trying to put the fire out, panicking more and more as the flames too hold. Hermione surveyed them coolly for a moment, before raising her own wand and announcing, “Restinguo!”

The flames immediately disappeared. Draco, Crabbe and Goyle stopped flapping, looked up at Hermione, and then decided to sweep out of the Great Hall, presumably in an attempt to hang onto the tattered threads of their dignity. Szeto looked at Angela.

“Nice one!” he said, evidently impressed with her handiwork.

“Voi attraversate la tribù, pagherete il prezzo,” she said, indignantly.

“What does that mean?” Ron whispered.

“You cross the tribe, you pay the price,” Hermione whispered back. Ron looked at her oddly.

“How did you know that?” he asked.

“I…” Hermione trailed off. “I actually don’t know,” she replied, quietly.

Jeremy looked at Angela and grinned.

“I can’t believe you know how to do that spell! You haven’t even started school!” Jeremy said, slightly awe-struck. Angela shrugged.

“Well, Papa teaches me lots of things. You can meet dangerous creatures and evil people wherever you roam,” she said, wisely.

“Will you be going to school at all?” Szeto asked. Angela nodded.

“Yep. Mama and Papa seem to think I’ll be going to Hogwarts, because I was born in Newcastle,” she explained. “They don’t really like the idea of me not travelling with them, but our tribe always send the children off to be educated.”

Szeto looked at her with interest.

“Do you like to travel?” he asked. Angela nodded enthusiastically.

“Very much so,” she said. “I suppose it’ll feel a bit weird, staying in one place for months at a time, but I’ll get used to it.”

“Hey, if you do come to Hogwarts, you can hang around with us two- it’ll be cool!” Jeremy enthused. Angela beamed.

“Cool!” she replied.

“What house do you think you’d be in?” Szeto asked. Angela frowned.

“I don’t know,” she replied. “Maybe Ravenclaw. I’m pretty clever, and all the rest of the Snapes that have gone to Hogwarts were in there…”

“Snapes?” one of the fourth year Gryffindors interrupted, suddenly. “As in Professor Snape?”

Angela nodded.

“Yeah, he’s my cousin,” she replied, simply, making it clear that particular line of enquiry was not going to go any further. The fourth year looked a little surprised, but said no more.

Harry scrutinised Angela. It seemed at once both odd and understandable that she was Snape’s cousin. Despite her deep tan, she did have that odd Snape demeanour about her, one which Harry had to admit, even Persephone carried. It was as though she held everything around her that she didn’t care for in mild derision, and Harry had to admit it was fascinating to see it in a child so young.

Angela, evidently having noticed Harry staring at her, looked at him with utmost suspicion, and frowned.

“You’re that weird boy, aren’t you?” she asked, accusatorily. Harry sighed.

“Yep, that’s me. The weird boy,” he replied. Angela giggled.

“You’re funny,” she said in response. “And you’ve got a scar on your forehead!”

Harry watched as she unnecessarily pointed at the lightening-bolt mark above Harry’s eyes.

“So I have,” Harry replied, again. Angela got up from her original seat, sat down beside him, pulled up her white dress and pulled down the knee sock on her left leg. She pointed at a red welt across her shin.

“I’ve got a scar too,” she announced, proudly. “I got it falling out of a tree. How did you get yours?”

Feeling as though the question was more of a demand, Harry struggled to think of a nice way of saying ‘Voldemort tried to kill me as a baby, and now I share some of his powers. That’s why I see him in my head, and your family think I’m unclean’.

“I got hit with a curse as a baby,” he replied, truncating his original thoughts. Angela nodded sagely.

“Like Proserpine,” she added. “Except that you can’t call her Proserpine. I can, but you can’t, because you’re a Gaje.”

Harry simply smiled. There wasn’t a great deal he could say in response to this, after all. He was, indeed, a Gaje; a dirty one at that.

“What’s a Gaje?” Luna enquired, having been silent up until this point.

“You,” Angela replied, before giggling.

“So, Harry is me?” Luna frowned at this statement for a moment. “So who am I? If Harry is me, surely I must be Harry?”

Angela shrieked with laughter.

“No, silly- you aren’t each other,” she remonstrated, as though Luna had said something that Angela had heard all too often. “You are both Gajes. You are not of a tribe- that’s what Gaje means!”

“I’m Mahrime, too,” Harry pointed out, nonchalantly, at which Angela nodded.

“He is, you know,” she replied, having evidently missed Harry’s sarcastic tone. “That means his spirit is unclean.”

“How do you know if somebody’s spirit is unclean?” Luna asked.

“Someone comes along and charms the words ‘wash me’ above it,” Ron joked. Luna howled with laughter at this, whereas Hermione and Harry merely groaned. Angela looked puzzled.

“Wash me?” she asked, innocently. Szeto whispered something into her ear, at which she blushed pink and giggled behind her hands.

“Oh, I see!” she said, between her giggles.

At that moment, Ginny and Neville came hurtling into the Great Hall.

“Have you seen all these new people?” Neville asked.

“What new people?” Ron asked.

“There’s a bunch of witches and wizards milling about that I don’t recognise. I think some of them might be plain-robed members of the Dark Force Defence League,” Neville explained.

“Yeah, they’re kind of pretending to do building surveying, but it’s pretty obvious that they’re here as an extra security measure,” Ginny added.

“That’s probably a good thing, considering what happened in Snape’s class the other week,” Szeto pointed out, whilst absently stirring his bowl of porridge.

“What happened?” Angela asked, turning away from Harry and whirling around on the bench to face Szeto.

“I’m not quite sure- some Death Eaters broke into a Potions class; Professor Snape managed to hold them off until proper Ministry help could be obtained. At least, that’s the version I heard,” he replied. Angela put a hand to her mouth.

“Death Eaters? They’re those black-robes people that killed my sisters!” she breathed, and Harry could see anger flaring up in her eyes.

Szeto put a hand on her shoulder in a clear attempt at offering comfort.

“He was okay, you know. The seventh years that came out of that class were raving about him- they reckoned he was well hard, calmly standing up to the Death Eaters, and everything. He got a whole new respect from us lot, I can tell you,” he pointed out, nonchalantly. Angela nodded.

“Here, you were in that class, weren’t you, Hermione?” Jeremy asked. Hermione nodded.

“So were Harry and Ron,” she explained, tersely. Jeremy didn’t seem to pick up on this, however.

“What happened then? I know Snape got you lot out, and somebody alerted the Ministry, but why? I’ve heard all sorts- that he fought them off, that he talked his way out of it…”

“I heard he was in cahoots with them,” Neville said, darkly, which earned him an icy glare from Angela.

“He is not!” she spat back, angrily. Neville looked a little surprised.

“Erm…” He looked across at Harry, Ron and Hermione for help.

“This is Angela,” Hermione said, carefully. “She’s Snape’s cousin.”

Neville looked suitably embarrassed.

“I’m really sorry, I had no idea!” he exclaimed, looking Angela in the eye. Or at least, he attempted to; every time he moved his head to look at Angela, she huffily turned her back on him. Neville got up from his seat and faced her, only for her to turn her back and face the direction in which he had originally been seated.

“I said I’m sorry,” Neville pleaded.

“Don’t care,” Angela replied sulkily, folding her arms. After a few moments of this, she jumped up out of her seat.

“Where are you going?” Szeto asked. Angela looked at him.

“Back to the Vardo; Papa will be worried,” she explained.

“Okay, see you soon,” Szeto replied.

“Yeah, come back when you can- we’ll have more fun,” Jeremy added.

“We can show you the Great Lake- there’s supposed to be a Giant Squid in it,” Szeto pointed out. Angela seemed to think this was the most wonderful thing in the world.

“Really?” she asked, eagerly. Jeremy and Szeto nodded.

“So we’ve been told…”

“Okay, I’ll be back for lunch!” She waved cheerily at Jeremy and Szeto.

“Bye bye!” she said, before rushing out of the Great Hall.

“Bye,” they called after her.

Neville looked crestfallen.

“I didn’t mean to upset her- I had no idea she was any relation to Snape,” Neville whispered to Hermione, Ron, Harry, Ginny and Luna once Szeto and Jeremy had begun discussing their next Charms lesson.

“Those people that invaded the Quidditch pitch are relatives of his, I think,” Luna said, as she stirred her pumpkin juice with her finger, and then sucked the tip. Neville nodded in understanding.

“Why are they here, though? And why did they ask to see Beauchamp, too?” he asked, in a low voice. “Do you think it’s got something to do with Voldemort?”

Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged glances.

“I don’t know,” Harry lied.

“I would presume so, though,” Hermione added, keeping up the pretence quite admirably. “I mean, why else would they turn up like they did, and cause such a disruption, unless it was serious?”

Neville snorted.

“It just keeps getting worse, doesn’t it,” he replied. Harry nodded in response as he thought about Alex. It really, really did.

Transfiguration that afternoon was an odd experience, to say the least. Harry found the subject matter of Camouflage Transfiguration- transfiguring objects to make them invisible- rather interesting, considering it was class work. Well, they weren’t actually making the objects invisible, as Hermione had been quick to explain. What they were actually doing was making them appear invisible. There was a subtle difference, apparently- something to do with altering molecular structure and transfiguring molecular realignment that Hermione had calmly elucidated, but which Harry couldn’t hope to understand.

However, the unknown witches and wizards that kept stalking past the classroom on a regular basis were clearly distracting the rest of the class from the intriguing topic. Alex had insisted that it was nothing to worry about, and all the strange people were doing was checking over various security wards that had been placed on the school owing to recent events. In other words, she had lied through her teeth, but it had convinced most of the student body.

But it hadn’t convinced all of them.

“This is too weird- those so-called surveyors have been hanging around this classroom for ages!” Neville said. “I don’t buy Ridley’s explanation that it’s standard security procedure- considering it’s standard, it’s a bit localised in this area! Do you guys know anything?” he asked.

Harry, Ron and Hermione collectively shrugged in response.

“At least Al… Ridley, is a bit more talkative than Snape,” Ron commented, as he attempted to transfigure his inkpot to render it invisible. “All we got from him was a stroppy, ‘They’re surveying the building, now shut up and get back to work!’ Well, until Harry asked, anyway.”

“What did he say then?” Neville asked.

“He said, ‘For the last time, they’re surveying the building, now shut up, Potter, and ten points from Gryffindor for not understanding there is a time and place for questions,’” Harry replied. “I thought it best not to point out that questions generally aid in learning, which is what we’re supposed to be doing in class…”

“Not that you two ever do,” Hermione retorted acerbically, as, having mastered smaller objects within the first fifteen minutes of the lesson, she had now transfigured her desk with ease. It gave Harry a headache to watch her lean against what looked like nothing but thin air and scribble down some notes.

“Hermione, that looks so weird,” Ron said, squinting at Hermione as she wrote. She shrugged.

“Well, of course it does- that’s the whole point!” she replied, tersely. Ron grinned.

“So, you went to all that trouble just to weird me out? I’m touched,” he replied. Hermione shot a glare at him.

“Naturally,” she replied coolly, which only served to make Ron snigger. Hermione merely tutted and continued with her work.

“Now what have I done?” Ron asked Harry, as Hermione visibly turned her back on him to continue her transfiguration write-up. Harry shrugged. In truth, he didn’t understand why Hermione was annoyed, why Ron was so bothered, or indeed, anything pertaining to Ron and Hermione’s friendship at all. There was no point in pretending he did.

Alex got up from behind her desk and began her usual tour of the classroom, to ensure everyone was keeping up and on task. A few of the students began nudging each other and whispering, as though goading each other into asking questions. Harry knew why- Alex could no longer claim that her weight gain was due to an underactive thyroid gland, for she was quite clearly pregnant. Her belly protruded over the waistband of her trousers, and Harry noticed the top she was wearing was the same one she had worn during Christmas dinner with the Weasleys, except that back then, it had been a dress.

“Well done, Miss Granger.” Alex announced, looking over at Hermione’s camouflaged desk. If you could just start to write… oh, you already have- you’re nothing if not conscientious! Now then Mr. Weasley; let’s see what you’ve been learning this lesson…”

Ron gulped, but held his wand aloft anyway, and began to transfigure his ink-pot once again, under the watchful stare of Alex Ridley. To be honest, Harry was quite amazed at the speeds at which she could get around the classroom, considering her current size. He imagined that she was so big owing to the twins she was supposed to be carrying- she looked as though she was about six months gone, but Harry knew she was only two or three months pregnant. The students who had nervously asked her if she was due for maternity leave evidently had no such inkling. It puzzled Harry no end that nobody seemed to ask her about the sudden change in her eye colour, or the ability to see in all directions and through all objects that she had acquired alongside the change. He assumed it was easier to ask about something fairly commonplace like pregnancy, rather than something that suggested a disability, or a horrific accident. Or, of course, there was always the possibility that the rest of the class had merely assumed she had eyes in the back of her head anyway, and had accepted the colour change as a simple case of cosmetics.

“They must be really bored, if they can’t just accept that Professor Ridley’s got an underactive viroid,” Neville pointed out, as Ridley left their area of the classroom, apparently satisfied with their various transfiguration attempts.

“Thyroid,” Hermione corrected.

“That too,” Neville replied. “I mean, she isn’t even married! Well, she doesn’t have a wedding ring, anyway. She might be living with someone over the brush, as Gran would say… Anyway, why would she lie? She probably just needs to cut down on a few food groups, that’s all.”

“Oh, come on!” Seamus sniggered. “There’s no way that’s just weight gain. You can’t just gain weight on your stomach- she looks like she’s got a football up her top, for Christ’s sake!”

“Maybe it’s a tumour?” Neville proposed, although his expression suggested that he hadn’t even managed to convince himself of that particular hypothesis.

“I’m the eldest in our family- I know what pregnant women look like,” Dean replied, knowingly. “Ridley’s either about to drop her sprog in the near future, or she’s carrying multiples. That happened to my Aunt Nina; she had triplets, and people kept looking at her as though she was about to go into labour when she was just four months pregnant. Besides, fat just looks different. It doesn’t make that kind of football shape; it wobbles about, especially when they run. Have you ever watched a fat kid run, Neville? When they stop, their stomach just keeps moving…”

Suddenly, Harry got to thinking about Dudley, instead of making his school bag look invisible. That letter he had received over Christmas hadn’t entirely left his thoughts; in fact, he was still pondering whether he should write back. Part of him thought that the two of them had nothing further to say- especially since Dudley had spent the better part of his life devising more ways to physically torment Harry, but the other part of him felt that if Dudley had make the effort to speak to him, he shouldn’t be too eager to burn that particular bridge. Besides, Dudley had mentioned he realised Harry was trying to help him that year they were both attacked by Dementors- perhaps he had been mulling over the concept of writing to Harry, just as Harry was mulling over the concept of writing back?

“Are you alright, Harry?” Hermione asked, setting down her quill on the invisible desk and looking straight up at him.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” Harry replied, before pausing, and then briefly explaining his quandary over whether he should write back to Dudley.

“Well, it all depends, really,” she mused. “Do you want to keep in touch with him?”

“I don’t know,” Harry replied. “Perhaps Ron was right, anyway- maybe it was some kind of a trap?”

“Have you asked Persephone?” Hermione asked. Harry shook his head.

“Well, maybe you should- she would probably be able to tell you if the letter looked suspicious at all. Apparently there are a number of key signs that give away counterfeit correspondence,” she explained. Harry nodded. It made sense to speak to Persephone; she could probably wangle a couple of Brethren members to look over the letter, if she felt it necessary. Then he could decide whether to write.

“Right, class. I want a two-foot essay on the techniques and uses of Camouflage Transfiguration, using your own practice today as a starting point. I want them in for Friday- you know the score by now!” Alex commanded, amid the usual low groans at the prospect of even more homework- Harry knew only too well that Alex handed out more homework than McGonagall had ever done.

“Oh, that sounds rather interesting,” Hermione commented, as she returned her desk to its original state, and began to pack her belongings away. Ron snorted.

“You have to be the only person I know that takes delight in receiving homework,” he said, shaking his head.

“There’s nothing wrong in it!” Hermione retorted, sharply. “Just because I don’t have exactly the same interests and ethics as you, it doesn’t make me any less of a person!”

Ron looked bewildered by her response.

“I didn’t say that!” he protested, as they began to filter out of the classroom. “What is this, ‘put words into Ron’s mouth’ day?”

Hermione glared at him, and pushed past a couple of Slytherins, with Ron in hot pursuit.

“Oh dear, trouble in paradise- are you two getting a divorce?” Draco taunted.

“Shut up, Malfoy!” Ron and Hermione chorused, before trying to out-storm each other on the way to the Gryffindor Common Room. Harry decided to hold back and dawdle up with Neville, Dean and Seamus. He didn’t particularly fancy getting involved in what was probably going to escalate into a rather heated argument between Ron and Hermione. The only problem was that he had to walk behind Draco and Pansy Parkinson, and hope that they didn’t cause any trouble for him between the classroom and the staircase, owing to the number of ‘surveyors’ still surveying Alex and her safety.

“She’s got big, hasn’t she?” Pansy whispered to Draco, who shrugged.

“Take it you don’t think it’s a viroid problem?” he asked, and Harry had to bite his tongue in order to stop himself interrupting and correcting Draco.

Pansy shook her head.

“Come off it, Draco. She’s obviously pregnant, and we both know who the father is, don’t we?”

“Don’t be perverse! You heard her during that lesson where she had that weird seizure; her parents are dentists…”

“What are dentists?” Pansy asked. Draco shrugged.

“Don’t know, but I do know that Granger’s parents were dentists, so we know what that makes Ridley. It’s one thing for Professor Snape to be messing around with a Mudblood, but having a child by one?”

Pansy shrugged.

“All I know is that they were pretty friendly before Ridley started getting huge, and they’re still pretty friendly now. If it was someone else’s, I doubt he’d be that thrilled, don’t you?”

Harry presumed that Draco mulled this possibility over, but Harry had reached the staircase to the Gryffindor Common Room before he got a chance to see Draco’s reaction. He remembered what Lucius Malfoy had said about Draco being fond of Snape, and for a moment, he wondered how long that would last.

That evening, as Harry slowly consumed his fish pie, he decided he would write to Dudley, as soon as he could ascertain the letter he had received was genuine. Hermione and Ron appeared to have made up after whatever argument they had been having in the boys’ dormitory when Harry reached the Gryffindor Common Room, and were now happily conversing about their plans to reform the D.A as though nothing had happened. Harry looked up at the High Table, but there was no sign of Persephone, which was annoying: he really wanted to speak to her about Dudley’s letter.

“Who are you looking for, Harry?” Ron asked, between mouthfuls of food.

“Persephone,” he replied. Ron glanced across at the High Table.

“She’s probably in her office,” he reasoned. Harry shook his head.

“I tried there before I came to dinner,” he explained. “She wasn’t there, and neither was Frank.”

Ron shrugged.

“Well, I don’t know, then,” he replied.

“She’s probably taken Frank for a walk; she does it every evening,” Hermione pointed out. Ron looked up at her.

“How do you know that?” he asked, incredulously. Hermione tutted.

“Because, Ron, I pay attention to my surroundings,” she replied. Ron pulled a face at her.

“Oh, and you’re saying I don’t?” he asked, defensively.

“Let’s not do this again,” Harry interrupted, wearily. “I’m going to set up a quota as to how many bickering session you can have with each other. Right now, you’ve exceeded it for today.”

Ron and Hermione glanced across at each other, and seemed to silently concede to Harry’s request. Grateful for this, he went back to eating his meal, and wondering when he might be able to speak to Persephone.

Suddenly, Harry became aware of a large shadow obscuring his light. He turned around, and was extremely pleased to see Hagrid looking down at him.

“Evenin’, Harry, Ron, Hermione,” Hagrid said, beaming.

“Hi, Hagrid!” they chimed back.

“How’s things?” Harry asked. Hagrid shrugged.

“Ah, yer know; not too bad, all things consid’rin’. What abou’ yer three?”

They all nodded in reply.

“Have you found Grawp yet?” Hermione asked, in a low voice. Hagrid’s face crumpled.

“Not yet, Hermione,” he replied, sadly. “Yer know, the longer ‘e’s missin’, the more worried I get that I’ll ne’er see ‘im again.”

Hermione patted him gently on the arm.

“I’m sure he’ll turn up,” she replied, soothingly. Hagrid tenderly patted her on the back; and the action almost sent her flying into her food.

“Thanks, Hermione,” he replied. “I’m sure yer righ’- ‘e’s a clever one, is Grawp.”

Harry smiled at Hagrid. It seemed very odd indeed that Grawp had not returned from wherever he had absconded to, and none of the possible outcomes sounded good. As far as Harry was concerned, Grawp was most likely either dead, or he had decided never to return. The fleeting thought of Grawp finding Voldemort more helpful than Hagrid crossed Harry’s mind, but he quickly pushed it away. The last thing he wanted to do was let slip that particular thought to Hagrid.

“We’ve been hearing about Snape’s cousin taking a shine to Fang,” Ron mentioned, at which Hagrid beamed once more.

“Yeah- little Angela loved ‘im, she did. Poor Szeto got a bit of a soaking though,” he replied, with a laugh. “Angela, Szeto and Jeremy seem ter be qui’e a little team. I’ve seen them ‘anging around together lots o’times.”

“Yeah, we saw them at breakfast time,” Ron commented. “I’d have thought Snape would have been pretty annoyed, though.”

“Here, e’ ain’t as bad as you three claim,” Hagrid chided. Ron smirked.

“I wouldn’t lump Hermione in with me and Harry; she doesn’t have a bad word to say about him. In fact, she’s always sticking up for him…”

“Oh, for Heavens’ sake, Ron, we aren’t starting this up again, are we?” Hermione groaned, as she rested her head in her left hand, whilst spooning food into her mouth with her right hand. Hagrid appeared to suppress a snigger.

“Oh, yer two are funny,” he said, shaking his head. Harry hid behind his glass of pumpkin juice, and hoped that neither Ron nor Hermione would notice he was trying not to laugh. Their pointless tussles and bickering did, on occasion, give Harry some amusement. Most of the time, however, they served to make him wonder if his two best friends were, in fact, completely mad. He silently decided on abandoning his previous attempts to curb their mildly antagonistic behaviour. It was useless to fight against such a tidal force of power- plus, this happened to be one of the the occasions where Harry found their behaviour somewhat entertaining.

Hagrid straightened his jacket a little, and looked as though he was about to leave their company. Harry quickly remembered he ought to ask him of he had seen Persephone. Hagrid had a tendency to know of Persephone's whereabouts, which he had assured Harry had nothing to do with their mutual fondness for Real Ale.

“I don’t suppose you’ve seen Persephone about, have you?” Harry asked. Hagrid frowned, and looked up at the High Table.

“Isn’t she in ‘ere?” he asked. Harry shook his head.

“No. She hasn’t been in yet.”

“Tha’ is odd,” he said. “She doesn’ usually leave it this late ter have dinner… Tell yer what, if I see ‘er, I’ll tell ‘er yer lookin’ for ‘er.”

“Thanks, Hagrid,” Harry replied.

“Yer welcome. I’ll see yer three later, ought ter have a word with Professor McGonagall; find out whether teh ‘surveyors’ are going ter be ‘ere twenty-four hours of the day,” he said, with a conspiratorial wink. “I’d need ter warn ‘em about a few of my pets, yer see, jus’ in case they venture over ter my neck of ter woods…”

Harry watched as Hagrid reached the High Table.

“Perhaps she went back to her office after walking Frank?” Hermione suggested, and Harry quickly realised that she was talking about Persephone.

“Yeah, she might have done,” he replied. “I’ll try there again after dinner.”

“She’s taking her time if she wants feeding, isn’t she?” Ron commented, craning his neck to look at the High Table.

Suddenly, Neville and Luna sat down next to them, and broke their original conversation.

“You probably ought to try some bonemeal and ground fluxweed; that helped my Alihotsy,” Neville suggested to Luna, who nodded in agreement.

“Yes, I’ll be sure to give that a whirl,” she replied before looking across at Harry, Ron and Hermione.

“Oh, hello- I thought we were late in!” she commented. “How long ago did you get here?”

Harry looked up at Hermione, and saw her check her watch.

“About an hour ago,” she replied. “Have you just had a class with Ginny?”

Luna shook her head.

“I’ve just come from Herbology; I think Ginny has a free lesson then,” she explained. “However, I also think she got another detention in Potions, so I imagine she went to her Common Room to get prepared for being forced to scrub out the hospital bed-pans, or whatever it is she has to do this time.”

Ron sighed.

“I’m sure Snape must be running out of tasks to give her by now, she’s had that many detentions from him,” he remarked.

“You do think she’s eaten, don’t you?” Hermione asked, sounding rather concerned. Luna nodded.

“I would think so; she probably came down here earlier,” she replied.

“Here, you haven’t seen Beauchamp around, have you?” Neville asked. “Only I wanted to ask her about Freezing curses and counter-jinxes. I tried her office just, but she wasn’t about.”

Ron shrugged.

“Sorry, mate, we haven’t seen her. Harry’s looking for her, too,” he replied. Neville smiled.

“Typical teachers- they’re never around when you need them. If you’re up to no good, though, they’re everywhere!” he exclaimed.

Harry pushed the remnants of his meal around his plate with his fork. All this talk of food had further reminded him of Dudley, and he really couldn’t decide what to do about the situation. Quickly, he got up and pushed his plate to one side.

“Harry, are you okay?” Neville asked. Harry nodded.

“Yeah, I just need to go and find Per… Beauchamp. I need to speak to her. I’ll see you later,” he said. Ron and Hermione exchanged glances, before looking up at Harry.

“Do you want us to come with you?” Ron asked. Harry shook his head.

“I’ll be fine, really. I’ll see you both in the Common Room later,” he replied, before walking off towards the exit of the Great Hall. He had suddenly had a brainwave, for although most of the teachers were present at the High Table, he had noticed that, as well as Persephone, Alex was also not dining there at the moment. It seemed entirely conceivable to Harry that, given the situation involving Voldemort currently hunting down Alex as some form of bait to lure Snape with, Persephone was with her as part of her armed guard.

“Come in,” Alex called from her office, after Harry had knocked on the door a little harder than he had planned. He stumbled in, and saw that Alex was scribbling on a board on the back wall of her office, which appeared to have a series of lesson plans on it. However, it was equally conceivable that she was working on some tactical plan, or consolidating some sensitive information. It wouldn’t be too hard for someone as well versed in Transfiguration as her to disguise the plans in an instant.

“What is it, Harry?” Alex asked, without turning around. Harry knew better, though, and assumed she was watching him, quite literally, through the back of her head.

“Erm, Professor…” Harry stumbled on his words when he saw that Alex was alone save for Benjamin Sampson’s company.

“Alright, Harry?” Sam asked, affably. Harry smiled at him.

“Yeah; I was just wondering whether you’d seen Persephone around,” he replied. “I’d like to speak to her.”

Sam frowned, and got up out of the chair he had been occupying.

“I don’t know- I thought she was supposed to be in the Great Hall,” he said, walking towards the window. Alex shook her head.

“Ben, she went to walk Frank, remember?”

“Yeah, but that was hours ago,” Sam replied, staring hard out of the window. “She should be back by now. I mean, it isn’t like Beau to miss a good meal,” he joked.

“Have you tried her office, Harry?” Alex asked, carefully setting down her quill as she did so.

“Yeah- well, Neville Longbottom said she wasn’t there,” he replied.

Sam started tapping his wand nervously.

“This isn’t like her,” he said, simply, looking carefully at Alex.

Suddenly, Alex whirled around and fixed her magical blue eyes on Sam for a moment, before looking around the room.

“Harry?” she asked, though she stared out of the window.

“Yeah?”

“That… when you saw Voldemort, that sort of vision you had?”

“Yeah?”

“What exactly did you hear when you saw Voldemort talking to Pettigrew?” she asked.

“I told you…”

“No- the exact words,” she interrupted, swiftly, as she fixed him with the piercing glare of her otherwise expressionless magical blue eyes.

“Erm…” Harry struggled to remember. “He said ‘Find her… the chink in his armour… she’ll be at the school, no doubt… If we have her, he’ll sing like a canary.”

Alex slammed her fist in the desk in anger, and Harry jumped.

“Christ! Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?”

“I thought it was pretty obvious what they were talking about!” Harry protested, but Alex had already grabbed hold of the small pendant around her neck. A disembodied voice echoed through the classroom, a high pitched female voice that Harry didn’t recognise.

“Ridley? What’s happened?”

“Tracey, I need your guys to perform a sweeping search of the entire school building; leave no portrait unturned…”

“What are we looking for?”

“Persephone,” Alex replied, simply.

“Right, we’re on it; units delta and epsilon are dispatched as we speak.”

“Thanks, and alert the Order members ASAP,” Alex said, before dropping the pendant back around her neck. She looked at Sam.

“Ben, go with the gamma unit, search the grounds. I suggest you do the honours of the Forbidden Forest; take Rubeus if you can, he knows the area better than anyone I can think of,” she ordered. Sam nodded.

“Motion carried- what about Severus? He’s got a good idea of the…”

“No,” Alex interrupted. “Don’t inform him yet. If he gets suspicious, send him to me.”

Sam nodded again.

“As you wish,” he replied, before pelting out of the office at a speed Harry had not yet seen him travel at.

Harry was confused.

“I don’t understand…” He trailed off as Alex cleared things up for him.

“It wasn’t me, Harry! I’m no chink…” She pushed her hair out of her face with her hands and emitted a low groan. “It was Persephone.”

“Oh,” Harry managed to say, before he sunk to the floor. Alex swiftly conjured a chair to prevent him from hitting the stone surface.

“It might be nothing,” Alex attempted to soothe, but Harry was not in the mood for being soothed.

“Yeah, right- that’s why you’ve just sent out Merlin knows how many witches and wizards out to search for her!” he practically yelled. Alex glared at him.

“Don’t even start!” she spat. “It you’d told me this in the first place, instead of assuming…” She trailed off, before taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Harry- I know the last thing in the world you’d want to do is put Persephone in danger…”

Harry dragged his hands through his unruly hair.

“But I did,” he replied, simply. Alex sighed, and placed a firm hand on his shoulder.

“Let’s just concentrate on finding her,” she replied. “Whatever happens, there’s only one person to blame for this, and that’s Voldemort. Don’t ever forget that.”

Before Harry got a chance to reply, the door to Alex’s office burst open, and McGonagall entered the room looking very distressed.

“Have you seen…”

“We’re looking for her now,” Alex interrupted. “Hopefully Persephone’s just lost track of time.” She didn’t sound too convinced.

“Well, I’m afraid Severus has become rather agitated,” McGonagall replied, vexation creeping into her voice. “He overheard Benjamin talking to Hagrid…”

“And he calls himself a spy,” Alex interrupted. “Sorry, Minerva, but Ben does have a bit of a soft spot for Persephone; he’s mentored her for years, it’s natural that he’ll be rather worried about her,” she explained.

“It’s understandable,” McGonagall conceded, “and I’m afraid I can’t help but fear the worst.”

“Are the Aurors- by which I mean our Aurors- on their way?” Alex asked.

“They should be here any moment,” McGonagall replied, before looking across at Harry.

“You mustn’t blame yourself, Mr. Potter; none of us saw this coming,” she said, kindly. Harry nodded.

“I know,” he lied.

The fireplace in Alex’s office burst into life, and before Harry’s eyes, Shacklebolt, Tonks, and Mad-Eye Moody clambered out, having evidently Flooed to Hogwarts as soon as they heard the news.

“Have they found her yet?” Tonks asked, before so much as saying ‘hello’. She looked very pale, as though she had been worrying ever since she heard the news.

“Our teams are out looking for Persephone,” Alex explained. “They haven’t reported back yet.”

“Did she tell anyone when she’d be back?” Mad-Eye Moody barked. Alex shook her head.

“She said she’d be around an hour, or however long it took to tire Frank out,” she replied. “ Of course, none of us really considered she would be sought after- we didn’t think Voldemort, or Malfoy, even knew they were related.”

“We should have done, really,” Shacklebolt commented. “I know what Harry saw, but it’s pretty clear…” He trailed off. Tonks smiled grimly.

“She’s definitely Snape’s weak spot,” she finished. “You should have seen his face when we went out on the town and got back really late; you could just tell that he thought I’d led his daughter astray.”

“I should have known,” Harry said, quietly, unable to handle one more person stating the now blatantly obvious. Mad-Eye Moody stomped over to where Harry was sitting, and clapped a heavy hand on his shoulder.

“Well, laddie, you know what they say- hindsight is always 20/20. We’d be best off just trying to figure out what to do now,” he said, abruptly. Harry sighed and looked around the room.

“Where’s Lupin?” he asked.

“He’s on his way,” Shacklebolt explained. “He said he’d go and explain the situation to Molly first; she can spread the news to the rest of the Order. Hopefully it might turn something up- somebody might have had their ear to the ground at an opportune moment…”

Suddenly, Faith Hamilton appeared in the middle of the room, which stunned Harry. Hermione had always stated that nobody can Apparate or Disapparate into Hogwarts; it was her mantra. Then Harry noticed the familiar white crystal pendant around her neck, and realised she had used her Time-And-Place Machine to get here. He remembered the last time she had used that contraption; it had resulted in his, Persephone, Augustine and Sam's having to go back twenty years into the past to find Hermione and prevent Faith from killing Snape. She had never forgiven Snape for his part in the death of her family, but if she was here, she must be worried about Persephone, which was a step in the right direction.

“Where’s Percy?” she asked, quickly, jumping from foot to foot in a nervous gesture. Alex sighed, and walked over to the jittery Faith.

“We don’t know yet,” she explained, placing her hands on Faith’s upper arms to steady her. “Everyone’s out looking for her; she’ll turn up. It’ll be fine.”

Faith looked most upset.

“But what if she’s not? What if she’s not okay, and she thinks I hate her? I don’t hate her, not really. I just hate her dad…” At this, Faith began to cry. Alex hushed her.

“She doesn’t think you hate her- she understands. But she’ll be fine, so you don’t need to worry,” she soothed.

At that point, Harry’s ears were assaulted by a painful, high-pitched whining sound. He looked up, and saw that Hagrid was tenderly carrying a tiny dog in his hands. It was Frank. His front leg was facing in the wrong direction, his tail was down, and he was alternately whining and yelping.

“Found ‘im up in teh Forbidden Forest,” Hagrid explained. “Poor little thing, ‘e’d bin smashed up somethin’ rotten.”

He gently set Frank down and began to attend to his injuries, as Sam rushed into the office.

“They’ve got her,” he said. “No doubt about it. I found a couple of Death Eaters…”

“Did they talk?” Alex asked, swiftly. Sam shook his head.

“They were dead. Looked like Beau’s work. I reckon she fought them off, only for reinforcements to arrive… it happened a way into the Forbidden Forest- that’s where we found Frank. It was well out of sight; nobody would have spotted it from the grounds.” He walked across to a cupboard and kicked it angrily, as though it were the sole cause of Persephone’s disappearance. Faith screamed at the noise, and Alex had to calm her down.

“Shush, it’s alright,” she hushed in a pacifying manner, shooting an angry glare at an unrepentant Sam. Harry couldn’t blame him. He understood Sam’s need for a violent altercation perfectly. In fact, he had been eyeing that very same cupboard for the sole purpose of kicking it at some point before the evening was out.

“Did you call off the search?” Alex asked. Sam nodded, resting his chin in his hand as he paced the room.

“Yeah; sent the gamma unit off to track the most recent Apparitions in the area; hopefully it’ll turn up some leads,” he said. “Delta and Epsilon I sent back to base- there’s not a lot they can do until we can pinpoint an area Beau might have been taken to.”

Steve wanted to yell at Sam, and rant about how much time that will take, and how little time Persephone might have, but Harry quelled the savage voice in his brain and instead asked, “What if she’s already been…” He couldn’t finish the sentence. It didn’t matter, for Sam understood him perfectly.

“She won’t have been killed,” he replied. “Voldemort wants her alive; she’ll be no good for luring Severus if she’s dead- that at least gives us some time…”

Sam stopped, as two males voices from along the corridor interrupted his explanation. Harry could make very little of their conversation out, except that it was very heated, and coming this way.

Suddenly, the door to Alex’s office flung open almost off its hinges, and Snape barged into the office. He was brandishing a hefty looking sword, and looked flushed with pure fury. Augustine was by his side, and was attempting to talk to him.

“Severus, don’t be so hasty,” he ordered, but was cut off by Snape.

“What, and let him harm her?” he spat, but Augustine grabbed his arm.

“You aren’t seeing things clearly,” he explained, but Snape appeared to be in no mood for such matters.

“And what, pray tell, am I not seeing?” he snarled, tapping his foot impatiently as he awaited a response.

“The words ‘this is a trap’ in big neon lettering,” Augustine replied, smoothly. “Your daughter is in grave danger, and you’ll clearly do anything to save her. Can’t you see this is exactly what Voldemort wants you to do? He’s playing on your emotions- you said it yourself, he knows his followers better than they know themselves. It stands to reason that he knows exactly which buttons he needs to press to get you dancing to his proverbial tune!”

Snape slammed his sword straight into the same cupboard that Sam had kicked, splintering the wood and causing it to fall open, scattering a few textbooks across the floor.

“Do I look as though I care?” he spat, rounding on an unflappable looking Augustine. Snape tried to push past him, but Augustine simply raised his hand and clamped down hard on Snape’s throat. Snape reached for his wand, which caused Augustine to sigh in irritation.

“We can have a fight,” he explained, calmly. “But I will win, so there’s precious little point.” He gestured towards the sword Snape was still gripping onto. “Put that down.”

“I’m going to find her,” Snape insisted, angrily. Augustine increased his grip on Snape’s throat, and the action caused Snape to drop his sword. Not that it clattered to the floor, for it was still firmly embedded in Alex’s cupboard.

“Over my dead…” Augustine trailed off. “That doesn’t really work anymore, does it?” he mused, before frowning in an attempt to come up with a suitable alternative. “Over my… You’re not going, let’s just put it that way.”

Snape glared at his as though the first thing on his agenda once he regained his breath was to slam a stake through Augustine’s heart and decapitate him. Never the less, Augustine relaxed his grip.

“I’m doing this for your own good, you know,” he explained. “We’ve got to think about this logically- now, I know that’s a near impossible task, Severus; but we’ve got to try.”

“Augustine’s right,” Alex replied. “We need to tread carefully…”

“That’s easy for you to say!” Snape retorted, somewhat hotly. “You don’t know how it feels to not know whether your child will live or die!”

Alex looked positively dark with fury.

“How dare you!” she hissed, glaring up at Snape. The action was not quite as palpable as it might have been if she still possessed real eyes, but the impact was not lost. “I know exactly what it feels like- I’m carrying your children!”

There was a moment of excruciating silence, where Snape and Alex eyeballed each other, not saying anything, but their facial features contorting to show fury, embarrassment, pity and finally, understanding.

“I’m sorry,” Snape replied, quietly, and the response nearly made Harry fall off his chair. He couldn’t help but assume he had just witnessed a momentous occasion, for he doubted that Snape had ever apologised before in his entire life.

“I know,” Alex replied, in an equally quiet voice, and her expression suggested she meant it. “We’ll get her back, Severus, we’ve just got to be careful. She’s tough, you know. She’ll be alright.”

“She’ll be better if we go and find her,” he said, through gritted teeth.

“He’s got a point,” Faith muttered.

“As long as you don’t go after her, Severus, she’ll be fine. Voldemort isn’t stupid enough to kill his bait. He’s clearly picked her for a purpose, and that’s to get at you. If he kills her, all he’ll achieve is making you angry. I don’t think he’s out to punish you yet; I think he will want to know everything you have told the Order about his operations, and everything you know about the Order. Otherwise, why not come straight after you?” Sam asked, his voice tense, as though he was trying to remain calm, but finding it difficult.

“That’s a lot of thinking, and not much doing, Sampson,” Snape spat. Sam rounded on him.

“You think I don’t care?” he spat back. “Of course I care- she’s my comrade, my friend. I’ve known her longer than you have!”

Snape looked as though he was about to punch Sam; his hands were bunched into fists, but he didn’t make the move.

“She’s my daughter…”

“She’s my… Oh, I don’t know- but I do know we’ll get her back, even if I have to kill every person on the face of this planet to do so!” Sam retorted. “We just need to be patient…”

“Well, my patience is running very thin!” Snape growled, as he wrenched his sword out of the cupboard. He then said something that shocked Tonks and McGonagall; in fact, Harry was amazed too, for it was possibly the first time he had heard a teacher swear, especially with such ferocity. Sam reached out to grab his arm, but Snape surprised him with a swift flick of his wand, and Sam went flying into Shacklebolt and Mad-Eye Moody. Before anyone could say anything, Snape had bolted from the office. Harry looked around helplessly, and saw that Faith looked delighted. Harry was anything but; as Alex and Sam had pointed out, rushing into the situation was likely to put Persephone at greater risk.

Everyone stared at the doorway which Snape had just run through, as though in shock. Faith clapped.

“I’m with the murderer!” she exclaimed, before tapping her wand to her crystal pendant and announcing, “Commutus positus!”

“Stop!” Alex shouted after her, but it was no use. Faith would be back at her Time-And-Place Machine and ready to travel to any other given destination before Alex could so much as grab a pinch of Floo Powder. Harry watched as Alex turned and kicked the cupboard that Snape’s sword had originally been jammed into, and the door completely collapsed from the impact. McGonagall put a hand on Alex’s shoulder.

“It’ll be alright,” she soothed, before jerking her head towards Shacklebolt, who straightened.

“I’ll get my team onto them; they won’t get far,” he replied, before leaving the office, followed by Tonks. Alex nodded towards Sam, who nodded back and rushed off as well. Mad-Eye Moody whistled a low, piercing whistle.

“I wouldn’t count on that,” he said, gruffly. Augustine nodded.

“He’s not of his right mind,” he agreed. “All he can see is Persephone. He’s playing right into Voldemort’s hands, and worse still, he knows it.”

“Well I’m not entirely surprised- she’s his daughter!” Harry shouted back, before he’d even realised he’d opened his mouth. McGonagall looked at him with concern in her eyes.

“Mr. Potter…” She began to speak soothingly to him, but Harry didn’t give her the chance to finish.

“She’s my sister! I should have known!”

“Harry,” McGonagall cried, “there’s no reason you should have known.”

“Yes there is!” Harry found himself screaming, though everything sounded oddly quiet in his head. “Voldemort did this before, and Sirius died because I didn’t realise. I’ve jumped to conclusions again, and now Persephone is going to die, too!”

“You ought to get back to your common room, Harry. There’s nothing you can do here. I know it sounds ridiculous, but try and get some rest,” McGonagall urged. Harry merely glared at her. It seemed pointless to even explain how he would never get a wink of sleep knowing that he might never see Persephone again.

“Minerva’s right- I know it’s ridiculous, and you’ll be worried, but Persephone would not want you to sit up all night fretting over her,” Mad-Eye Moody pointed out.

“She won’t be able to want anything if she’s killed,” Harry snapped, hotly.

“Harry, she is not going to die,” Alex replied, calmly but firmly.

“How do you know?” Harry retorted.

“Because I have faith in her, and I have faith in us,” she said, simply. Harry snorted.

“Yeah? Well since when is faith enough?” he spat.

Augustine gently grabbed Harry’s arm, and Harry noticed how cold the skin of his fingertips felt.

“Faith can give one strength, and it can ward off a vampire,” he pointed out. “Faith makes us more capable than you might think, and it shields us from the worst of times.”

Harry glared down at him.

“Can faith kill Death Eaters?” he asked, aggressively, before yanking himself from Augustine’s icy grip and storming out of Alex’s office. Well, storming out as best he could with quivering limbs.

“Harry, perhaps I should come with you?” Augustine offered.

“I’ll be fine,” Harry replied, before rushing down the corridor, desperate to escape the cloying atmosphere of tense worry in Alex’s office. He needed to try and do something about Persephone, but his mind was vacant of anything he could possibly do that would be of any use.

As he walked back to the Gryffindor Common Room, Harry felt as though his heart was weighted down with lead. He couldn’t believe that after everything that had happened, he had been so stupid. He was so certain that Voldemort had picked up on Malfoy’s connection that Alex and Snape were lovers, that he had forgotten the possibility of Voldemort scanning through Malfoy’s memories, and making the physical connection between Snape and Persephone. Most people thought they looked somewhat similar; he might even have found out through Malfoy’s murder of Porphyria. However he had discovered the link between Snape and Persephone, and however he had realised he could exploit it, Harry hadn’t accounted for it. Now, nobody could find Persephone, and Snape had gone completely insane and stormed off right into Voldemort’s trap, with a distraught Faith in hot pursuit. He hoped that Ron and Hermione were in the Common Room, and that they could go somewhere alone. He really needed to talk to them right now.

Suddenly, Harry was distracted by footsteps rushing towards him. Instinctively, he whirled around and pointed his wand out in the direction of the noise.

“Harry, it’s okay. It’s me,” a familiar voice said. Harry looked up and a wave of relief hit him as he found a concerned looking Lupin staring back at him.

“Lupin!” he cried. “It’s awful, did you hear? They think…”

“They’ve got Persephone; I know,” Lupin replied. “Don’t worry, Harry. Everything’s under control.” He held out his hand.

“I’m sure Persephone is a sensible girl, and we’ll find Snape soon enough. Now, let’s just get you relaxed. You worry too much for a boy of your age,” he said, soothingly. Harry nodded, and surreptitiously wiped away a small tear that had been threatening to escape his left eye since the whole incident had unfurled in Alex’s office.

“Come with me,” Lupin said, and Harry followed him on shaky legs to one of the doors that lead out into the courtyard.

“You could do with some fresh air,” Lupin explained, somewhat distantly, as they ventured outside. Harry watched him carefully. His usually calm demeanour had been replaced with a steely kind of resolve that Harry couldn’t recall having ever seen in him, even when Sirius had died. Harry stared at him, and saw a couple of small scars on his neck that he hadn’t noticed before. He didn’t understand where Lupin had got them from; as far as he knew, Snape was still brewing the Wolfsbane potion for him, so he was unlikely to have scratched himself in wolf form.

“Remus, your neck…” Harry trailed off as he saw the scar get larger, and multiply. Lupin wiped a hand casually at his neck.

“Hmm…” He trailed off, and to Harry’s utter bewilderment, pulled out a mirror. It was right about then that Harry realised that Lupin wouldn’t have had any idea whether Persephone had been captured by anybody or not, that he only ever referred to Snape as Severus or Professor Snape in front of Harry, and that the scars on his neck had formed the words ‘Not Me’.

“Erm, I’m just going to pop back inside; let my friends know where I’ve gone,” Harry replied, backing away. Lupin shot a curse at Harry before he could even think about retaliating, and Harry fell to the floor; a dull pain spreading through his head.

“No you’re not, Potter,” Lupin’s voice said, as though from a great distance, as Harry felt his eyelids close against his will.