The Man of the Moment

Chapter Twenty-Seven: A Time of Uncertainty

Harry, Ron and Hermione all stayed at Hogwarts over Easter, as did most of the seventh years, for they were all busy revising for their N.E.W.T. exams. It would have reminded Harry a little of how they had all stayed to revise for their O.W.L.s, were Ron and Hermione not avoiding each other. By the time the rest of the school had left for their homes on Friday afternoon for the Easter holidays, Harry assumed that Ron and Hermione would have ironed out their problems, but it turned out that Ron's admission in the Hospital Wing had caused a great deal of upset. What's more, everybody in Gryffindor House appeared to have noticed.

"Here, Harry- what's up with Ron and Hermione?" Dean surreptitiously asked as they left their Defence Against the Dark Arts class- where Viktor Krum had taught them about Neutralising Spells, designed to prevent hexes and jinxes aimed at you from working.

"Don't know," Harry lied.

"Harry- what's going on with Ron and Hermione?" Seamus asked, shortly after, as the ascended the staircase to Gryffindor Tower.

"Don't know," Harry lied, again.

"Harry," Parvati asked, sweetly, as a giggling Lavender stood behind her, clutching at Parvati's sleeve. "Yeah?" Harry asked.

"Why are Ron and Hermione not talking to each other?"

"I don't know," Harry sighed. "Haversacking Humphrey!" he said to the portrait of the Fat Lady, who eyed him curiously.

"Your two young friends seem to be acting rather oddly," she commented. "The redhead snuck in just five minutes ago, and then the little brunette girl rushed out as though..."

"Can I just get in, please?" Harry interrupted, knowing he sounded deeply irritated, and not caring. The Fat Lady whistled.

"Alright, no need to get shirty with me," she retorted, before swinging open and allowing them all access to the Common Room, where Neville was already seated. He looked up briefly from the book he was scanning.

"Hi, Harry," he said, before looking around, a slightly puzzled expression on his face. "I don't suppose you know what's the matter with Hermione, do you? Ron came back, and she just legged it..."

Harry let out an ear piercing yell, and was only truly aware of how loudly he had screamed in frustration when the rest of the congregation stared at him as though they thought he ought to be certified.

"Harry," Neville asked uncertainly, "do you want a glass of water, or a lie down?"

"I just want people to stop asking me about Ron and Hermione!" he groaned back, running his hands through his hair as he did so. Neville held his palms aloft in surrender.

"Okay, we'll stop asking you," he soothed. "Just calm down. Here, have a seat." He gestured towards one of the free armchairs. Harry plopped himself down gratefully.

"It'll be dinnertime soon- you can get something to eat, and forget today ever happened," Neville encouraged, trying his best to placate Harry.

"Harry, are you alright?" Ginny asked, having just burst through the Common Room. "I've been looking for Hermione everywhere..."

"Don't ask him!" Neville ordered. "He's feeling a little... fragile."

Ginny nodded in understanding.

"Is this about Ron blurting out to Hermione how he felt about her?" she asked, and everybody present merely gawked at them both. Harry, realising the futility of pretending nothing happened after Ginny's response, nodded.

"Yeah- they're still not talking," he replied. Dean pushed forward and put a comforting arm around Ginny, and a friend hand on Harry's shoulder.

"When did this happen, mate?" he asked.

"Oh, last night," Harry replied. Dean looked around the room quickly, before asking, "When last night? Are we talking last night, last night, or this morning, last night?"

"Erm, last night, last night," Harry replied. "What does it matter, anyway?"

Dean had already sped off, though, and Ginny took his place and sat on the arm of Harry's chair, gently rubbing the back of his neck with her hands.

"It'll be okay," she said. "They'll sort things out. It's just a bit awkward for them..."

Dean sprang back into the common room, clutching a notebook of some description, which he opened and flicked deftly through. He stopped at one page, and jabbed his index finger at the lined paper underneath.

"Well, it looks like nobody went for last night, so I think you'll find you all owe me some money," he cried, gleefully. "Seamus, you owe me a Galleon and five Sickles; Jack, you owe me a Galleon; Natalie... where's Natalie? I'll find her at dinner. Parvati, you went for two Galleons- though I'll let you off in return for a kiss..."

"Oi!" Ginny remonstrated, looking daggers at Dean, who held his hands aloft.

"Just kidding, just kidding," he protested, nervously. Ginny glared at him for a moment longer, before turning her attention back to Harry.

"What's going on?" Harry asked. Ginny blushed a little.

"Erm, Dean had a little wager on how long it would be before Ron said something to Hermione about how he's clearly felt for ages- a lot of the Gryffindors put a little money on it..."

"Neville, you owe me three Galleons," Dean announced. Neville blushed a little as Harry glared at him.

"I'm sorry, Harry," he pleaded. "I didn't mean any disrespect to Ron or Hermione at all, it's just I thought the 15^th of November was a dead cert!"

Ginny looked at him.

"Honestly, Neville- how could you? Trying to make money out of my brother's conflict," she remonstrated, haughtily.

"Ginny, you owe me five sickles."

Ginny turned scarlet, and said no more.

Harry tried to take his mind off things at dinner, despite the fact that neither Hermione nor Ron turned up to eat. He assumed that Hermione had gone to see Viktor, and would be alright for food, but he wasn't so sure about Ron. If the Fat Lady had been right and he had entered the Gryffindor common room five minutes before Harry, then he must have gone up to the dormitory and stayed there. Harry decided to try and grab some bread and butter to take up for him. He felt terrible- how could he not have noticed? For years he had been Ron's best friend, and he hadn't even noticed how Ron had been feeling, when the teachers and most of the Gryffindors had been taking bets on it for years. All the times during the past eighteen months that Ron had complained about Viktor, Harry had assumed he was being overprotective. It had never occurred to him that Ron was possibly heartbroken that Hermione had set her sights on another boy. Each time Ron had teased Hermione, he had assumed it was friendly banter- Ron just being Ron. Looking back, Harry could see it for what it was; Ron being very affectionate, in his perpetually embarrassed, inept teenage way- a method Harry knew all too well, it being the only one he was comfortable using himself. The teasing, the furious disparaging of any boy who showed Hermione any interest, the unusual gifts, the offhand, mocking concern he showed when Hermione worked too hard... Merlin, he really liked her!

"Are you okay?" a dreamy voice lilted that Harry knew belonged to Luna. He looked up, and sure enough, he was staring straight into her protuberant blue eyes.

"Yeah, yeah- I'm fine," he replied, budging up a little to allow her to sit down next to him. "I'm just a bit worried about Ron and Hermione."

"Oh... Where are they?" she asked, looking around languidly. Harry shrugged.

"I don't know- they're not talking to each other at the moment. Hermione I'm guessing is with Viktor. Ron, well, I think he's up in the dormitory," he replied. Luna nodded.

"Is this because they've had an argument about Ron liking Hermione?" she asked. Harry started at her, stunned.

"Well, sort of," he replied. "How did you know, anyway?"

Luna shrugged.

"It's been a bit obvious, to tell you the truth," she admitted, stirring her pumpkin juice with her index finger- a habit Harry had noticed her repeat on many an occasion. "He seems to like her. I don't know how she feels, though- she laughed at me the last time I asked her how she'd feel if Ron asked her out. She seemed to think it would never happen."

Suddenly, Dean popped up beside Luna, clutching the notebook he had retrieved from the dormitory earlier.

"Miss Lovegood, if I could obtain the sum of five Sickles and three Knuts for you, please?" he asked, and Luna dug into her pocket, before handing the relevant coins over.

"I didn't think he'd say anything until after the exams," she admitted to Harry, without so much as a smidgen of embarrassment. Harry sighed, and went back to eating his fish pie.

"Do you think Hermione likes him?" Luna asked, suddenly, a morsel of food balanced precariously on her fork, which she held in mid-air. Harry shrugged.

"I don't know," he replied. "She's been going out with Viktor for ages..." He trailed off, not wanting to share the information he had about Snape. "I don't know."

"I should hope she does," Luna continued. "I think he's nice, anyway."

Harry noticed her blush a little as she spoke, and decided not to point out the fact.

"She was upset," Harry explained, "but they had just had a huge row before Ron said how he felt, so I don't really know what to make of it. Do you mind if we change the subject now?" he asked. Luna shook her head.

"Not at all- I was getting quite bored of hearing about it in the Ravenclaw Common Room, anyway," she replied, cheerfully. Harry couldn't believe it- everybody seemed to have known except him! He was about to carry on eating, when he noticed a certain amount of sly whispering coming from behind him. He turned around, and realised that the Slytherins were whispering eagerly. Draco, in particular, looked most amused by something. Harry reckoned it didn't exactly take a spell inventor to work out what he had found so funny.

At that moment, Harry glanced towards the entrance to the Great Hall, and saw Ron look furtively around, before he made his way over to where Harry was sitting.

"Hi, Harry," he said, awkwardly, before sitting down in the space Harry made for him.

"Hi, Ron," he replied, reluctant to bring up the situation between him and Hermione. Ron began helping himself to a serving of fish pie; oblivious to the surreptitious stares he kept receiving from various students on the Gryffindor table.

"Has Hermione been in?" he asked, after a long pause. Harry shook his head.

"Not yet," he replied. Ron shrugged.

"She's probably with Viktor, isn't she?" he half-stated, half-asked. Harry nodded.

"Probably," Harry replied, as he watched Ron's appetite diminish rapidly. He put his fork down, and looked around the table, suspicion narrowing his eyes.

"Why has everyone gone so quiet?" he asked Harry, who shrugged.

"I've no idea," he lied, but Ron didn't buy it for a second.

"The whole school knows, don't they?" he asked, but in a tone of voice that suggested to Harry it wasn't a question.

"I'm sure the whole school doesn't know, Ron," Harry replied, nervously. Neville snorted nearby, and Harry attempted to glare at him before Ron noticed. He failed.

"Oh great," Ron sighed. "Just great. Can today possibly get any worse?"

Harry glanced briefly at the Slytherin table- where all the students were still whispering and pointing in their direction- and thought that, yes, it probably could. His theory was verified precisely twenty seconds later, when Draco leant over on the back of his chair, and, between sniggers, asked, "What's the matter, Weasley? Have you and the Mudblood filed for a divorce?"

Most of the Slytherins burst out laughing. Ron flushed crimson for a moment, before calmly getting up and walking towards Draco. Harry didn't like the look of this, and decided to follow him.

"So, no more dreams of renting some hovel in the countryside and churning out little half-bloods for the Dark Lord to use as target practise?" Draco sneered, staring straight up at Ron. Admittedly, Harry noticed not as many of the Slytherins laughed at this- Pansy in particular seemed to think Draco had gone too far. Ron, however, said nothing in response- instead he pulled back his fist and punched Draco square in the face. The momentum sent Draco flying out of his chair, and he covered his face with his hands.

"You're boing to bet it, Weasley," he mumbled, as blood began to drip all over his chin and hands. Pansy squealed in horror, whilst Ron just continued to glare at him.

"Ron, leave it!" Harry hissed, but Ron looked in no mood to listen, even though his reaction had aroused the attention of the teachers- and some of them were storming over to the Slytherin table.

"What in Merlin's name is going on?" Snape demanded, in his usual cold voice. Harry inwardly groaned. Of all the teachers that had to come and resolve this, Snape was without a doubt going to be the most incendiary. Ron glared at Snape with unmitigated loathing, which proved to Harry that his initial analysis of the situation had been right.

"Well, you tell me," Ron spat, angrily. "I'm sure you can grasp the situation."

Snape looked furious.

"Detention, Weasley- and don't you dare talk back to me," he fumed, staring Ron straight in the eye. Harry felt his stomach lurch uncomfortably- if Snape had decided to try and perform Legilmency on Ron to see what was making him so angry, Harry was almost certain what he would find out.

"Professor!" he interrupted, and this time Snape turned his anger onto Harry.

"What do you want, Potter," he snapped. "Weasley's in enough trouble, without you rushing to his aid..."

"Exactly," Harry said, quickly. "He's done a terrible thing- he really should see the Headmistress!"

Ron glared at him.

"Oh, thanks a bunch, Harry," he hissed. Harry smiled weakly back, as both Draco and Snape's expressions conveyed deep suspicion.

"What are you playing at, Potter," Snape whispered, in a dangerously low voice. Harry shrugged.

"Just trying to do my bit to uphold school rules," he babbled. Snape looked at him with utter contempt.

"The day you do that, Potter, will be the day I perform a limbo dance in this hall whilst wearing a tutu," he replied, coldly, and Harry didn't know whether to laugh or cry at the image that formed in his head. Fortunately for him, McGonagall soon reached Snape and prevented Harry from having to make up any more ridiculous lies.

"What's going on, Professor Snape?" she demanded. Snape glared at Ron, then at Harry, before looking back at McGonagall.

"It appears that Mr. Weasley has decided to lead a poor example as Head Boy, and has assaulted Mr. Malfoy," he replied, gesturing unnecessarily to Draco, whose shirt was now drenched in blood. McGonagall sighed.

"Professor, if would be so kind as to escort Mr. Malfoy up to the Hospital Wing, I'd be very grateful. Mr. Weasley- come with me," she snapped, as she walked towards the exit to the Great Hall.

Ron glared at Harry.

"What did you do that for?" he hissed, angrily. Harry looked at him.

"Because you're in a right state, and I know what will happen if you Snape takes you for detention. Either you'll tell him what Hermione did, or he'll perform Legilmency on you and see it for himself; whichever, it will result in Snape murdering Hermione, and I'm sure you don't want that!" he hissed back. Ron snorted, but said nothing, before following McGonagall out of the Great Hall.

Meanwhile, Snape was attempting to assess Draco's injuries.

"Move your hand, Draco," he ordered, but Draco had begun to whimper, and seemed in no mood to comply. Snape clicked his tongue in frustration.

"Fine, just come with me," he said, and picked Draco up by the arm, pulling him gently to his feet.

"Is he going to be okay?" Pansy asked, anxiously. Snape smiled at her- an expression Harry still thought simply didn't look right on Snape's face.

"I'm sure he'll live, Pansy," he replied, dryly, before leading Draco out of the Great Hall. Harry, suddenly feeling as though he was standing in the middle of a natural disaster site, surreptitiously sneaked back to his seat, and attempted to finish his meal.

"Is Ron in trouble?" Luna asked. Harry nodded.

"He punched another student- I'd reckon so," he replied. Luna smiled serenely.

"Maybe McGonagall will let him off- because it was Draco," she commented, mischievously. Neville nodded.

"Malfoy's been asking for that all year," he added. "Next time we get a chance to visit the Three Broomsticks, I'm buying Ron a Butterbeer."

Later on, Ron still hadn't returned from McGonagall's custody, and Harry was concerned. In the time he had been waiting for Ron to return, he had drafted a letter to his cousin Dudley, edited it, and copied it out in his best handwriting. The letter had been a feat in itself- on sitting down to compose it, Harry realised he hadn't a clue what to write. Eventually, he decided to stick to safe topics, such as how school was- minus certain details of Death Eaters and being lured to one of Voldemort's hide-outs- and asked about Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon, out of politeness more than anything.

Harry looked at his watch; it was nine o'clock. He assumed Ron had been assigned an immediate detention as opposed to just receiving a stern talking to, so he decided that he would go and take his letter to Persephone, and see how both she and Lupin were doing.

"Hopefully," he thought, as he left the common room, "Malfoy will have left the Hospital Wing- how long can it take to fix a nose, anyway?"

He entered the Hospital Wing, and saw that there was indeed an extra person wandering around, but it wasn't Draco. Instead, Viktor Krum was there with Persephone. He didn't look very ill, but he certainly looked annoyed.

"Viktor, I'm ill! Stop asking me stupid questions!" Persephone protested in frustration as she slowly paced the Hospital Wing, supporting her weight with a walking stick. Krum was shadowing her.

"I just don't like it," he protested. "He just comes out and shouts his feelings at her, as though he's trying to blame her for it. That isn't fair- she cannot help how he feels. He's too aggressiff about it, and from vhat I can tell, rather casual too- he doesn't seem to care how she feels!"

Persephone sighed.

"Viktor, he's barely eighteen. They've been friends since the age of eleven- I imagine he's finding it quite hard to understand himself..."

"That is no reason to take it out on Hermy-own-ninny," Krum retorted.

"I don't think he is," Persephone reasoned. "He's just a bit bewildered, and he doesn't know what to do."

"It should be obvious vhat to do," Krum huffed. "He should talk to her- she's really upset!"

Persephone sighed heavily.

"He's a boy," she replied. "No offence, Viktor, but I recall a certain Stephanie Navaikov who was a little taken aback by the desperate rantings of someone not standing a million miles away from me now."

Krum blushed.

"I haff learned from that..."

"And Ron hasn't. Give him a break." She eyed Krum cautiously. "Unless this is, in fact, veiled jealousy..."

"It is not," he replied emphatically. "I vill admit, I still like her, but if it is not meant to be, it is not meant to be. That von't stop me from caring about her, and vanting to protect her from idiot, hot-tempered boys!"

Persephone allowed herself a smile.

"I'm sure she can look after herself... Hi, Harry, how are you?" she enquired, genially.

"Sick of hearing about Ron and Hermione," he admitted. Persephone laughed, and looked at Krum pointedly, who shrugged.

"I vasn't going to say anything," he hissed back.

"How's Remus?" Harry asked. Persephone sighed.

"He could be better, I suppose, but all things considered, he's not too bad. He should be... ah; speak of the Devil, and he appears," she said, gesturing towards Lupin, who had just exited the bathroom in the annex of the Hospital Wing. He smiled at Harry.

"How's things?" he asked. Harry groaned.

"Hectic," he replied. "It's not even the first day of the holidays!"

Lupin chuckled warmly, and Harry could see from his smile how papery his skin appeared. It wasn't just his hair that had become greyer over the past few days- it was his face, too. He walked towards his bed in the Hospital Wing as though every muscle ached beyond Harry's comprehension, and gingerly sat himself down. He jerked his head towards Viktor and Persephone, and smiled at Harry once again.

"I heard about Ron and Hermione," he said. Harry nodded.

"Yeah- so has everybody else in Hogwarts, apparently," he replied. Lupin grinned.

"That was always the way," he admitted, absently brushing his hair back with his hands. Harry noticed they were shaking. "It's very difficult to keep a secret in Hogwarts- in fact, I'm impressed Persephone and Severus have managed for so long," he added, making certain that Persephone could hear. The slightly obscene hand gesture she made in response suggested to Harry she had heard every word.

"Don't jinx things, Remus," she warned. Lupin grinned.

"I never had you down as the superstitious type," he replied. Persephone smirked.

"I belong to a tribe, and you've never considered I might be superstitious? I promise I'll give you a crash course in tribal history as soon as you're up to it," she retorted, genially. Lupin glanced at his watch, and shuddered involuntarily. Harry didn't need to ask why- he knew sunset was due in about an hour. He sat himself on the edge of Lupin's bed.

"How close is Snape to finding a cure?" he asked.

"Professor Snape, Harry," Lupin corrected him, as though the response had become habit. He then shrugged, and emitted a low sigh. "I've no idea. Persephone says he's tearing his hair out over it- which doesn't sound good to me..."

"But it does show he's making a damn good effort," Persephone pointed out. "I'm sure he'll come up with something soon. Besides, Faith's coming to help him today, so if anything, that'll motivate him to work even harder." She grimaced at the thought. Harry couldn't help but smile.

"I take it you've both sorted things out?" Lupin asked. "I noticed you seemed a little... anxious, around Severus these past few days," he added. Persephone rolled her eyes a little, but nodded.

"We had a good long chat last night," she replied, but said no more on the subject. Harry understood Persephone's innate desire for privacy, and so didn't ask any of his own questions concerning the recent strain on Persephone and Snape's relationship.

Suddenly, Harry felt something sharp prod him in his side, and he quickly realised it was Lupin's elbow.

"Had I been compos mentis, I could probably have told you all about it," he whispered, before glancing down at his watch again. Irritated, he ripped it off his wrist and flung it across the room. The action startled Harry.

"I'm sorry," Lupin said, quietly. "It's just... this part is the worst- the waiting for it." He raised his voice a little. "It's true what Alex taught you, Persephone- the most effective part of torture is the anticipation."

Persephone smiled sympathetically. Krum, who had sat down on a chair next to Persephone's bed, looked across at Lupin, a curious expression on his face.

"Does it really hurt that much, Professor?" he asked. Lupin laughed humourlessly.

"It does smart rather, yes," he replied, in a tone that sounded a little sarcastic, although Krum didn't pick up on it.

"I don't understand why Karkaroff vouldn't let you teach at Durmstrang," he continued. "I mean, ve haff had a few verevolves as students, and he didn't seem to care..."

"Viktor, that's because Karkaroff is a moron," Persephone explained, patiently, which made Krum laugh.

"Anyway, let's not talk about werewolves right now." She looked across at Lupin and grinned. "I imagine Remus would benefit from being distracted about the whole thing for a little while."

Lupin looked askance at her.

"You have the worst bedside manner I have ever know, Miss Beauchamp; but your assessment is uncanny," he replied. Persephone shrugged.

"What can I say? I'm a people person," she replied, at which Lupin burst out laughing, and didn't stop for quite a while.

"Oh, yes," he replied, eventually, as he wiped his eyes on a handkerchief. "Your gentle, mild and sensitive demeanour is known throughout the land." He laughed again, apparently ignoring the vast array of crude hand-gestures Persephone was making in his direction- Harry was impressed she knew so many.

"Remus, who was Penny?" Harry found himself asking. Lupin frowned for a moment.

"How do you know about Penny?" he asked. Persephone whistled.

"That's what you kept calling Hermione, the first time you transformed and attached yourself to her," she prompted. Lupin blushed a little; which did something to make him look a little less like Death warmed up, at least.

"I'm terribly sorry about that- she does know I'm terribly sorry, doesn't she?" he asked. Harry nodded.

"Don't worry about it," he replied. Krum looked at him.

"I think she has other vorries right now," he added, coldly. Harry inwardly screamed- evidently he was not going to escape Ron and Hermione's barney, however hard he tried. It didn't seem to matter to anybody that the whole debacle had nothing to do with him!

"Penny was my girlfriend at Hogwarts," Lupin said, quickly. Something triggered in Harry's brain upon hearing this new piece of information.

"Penny Bancroft?" he asked. Lupin looked surprised.

"How did you know?" he enquired, suspiciously. Harry shrugged.

"She was mentioned in my mum's diary," Harry explained. "She was the Hufflepuff Seeker..."

Lupin chuckled.

"Yeah- from third year right up until she left Hogwarts, I think." He coloured up a little more. "Of course, when I say she was my girlfriend at Hogwarts; I mean she was the one studying there. I had left by then," he explained. Persephone put her hand to her mouth in an expression of mock horror.

"Remus! You naughty boy- leaving school and then deciding to start dating a schoolgirl," she chastised, looking across at Krum, who merely raised an eyebrow back.

"Vhat vas it you vere saying all those years ago about sarcasm being the lovest form of vit?" he asked, languidly. Persephone grinned, but said nothing in reply.

"So, did you know her before you left?" Harry asked. Lupin shook his head.

"No, not really- I'd seen her playing Quidditch, and wandering around the school. All I knew was that she was a little blonde girl who was on the Hufflepuff team. I met her in Hogsmeade- there was a small bookshop near Madam Puddlefoot's back then. It was my first job; I used to do all the accounts and sort out the promotional displays, so I was on the shop floor most weekends. I was there quite a while, really- I almost made a year and a half before Mr. Peagram worked out what happened to me every month. Anyway, she just walked in one weekend with a few friends, looking for a copy of Fifi Lafolle's biography." Lupin paused for a moment, as though immersing himself in the memory. "She'd grown. She really wasn't very little anymore." He suddenly looked rather uncomfortable. "I mean, she was still pretty tiny, height wise, but..."

"Remus, stop digging," Persephone instructed, abruptly. Lupin nodded gratefully.

"Yes, well. She seemed very nice. She asked me if we had this book, and I found it for her; she smiled, thanked me, paid for it and left. I thought nothing of it, until she came into the shop on the next Hogsmeade weekend, looking for another book- I can't remember the title, but I think that's because it didn't actually exist. By the time the third Hogsmeade weekend came around, and she popped in the shop, I took the hint and asked her out. We went out for about a year, can you believe it?" he explained. Harry nodded.

"So, you'd left Hogwarts; what year was Penny in?" he asked.

"Oh, she was in the fifth year," he replied. "I remember talking to your mother about her..."

"What did she say?" Harry asked, suddenly feeling very curious. Lupin frowned.

"She seemed a little surprised, actually," he replied. "I don't know why, though."

"She had a crush on Snape," Harry commented.

"Professor Sna..." Lupin trailed off suddenly. "What, Lily had a crush on him?"

"No, Penny did," Harry replied. "In her first year."

Lupin looked surprised.

"She never told me that," he replied, apparently a little put out by this information. "I know he instigated the protection of her father. Now, if she had developed a crush on him then, I'd understand. What do Muggles call that- Florence Nightingale Syndrome?"

"Possibly Transference," Harry replied, remembering what Hermione had told him.

Lupin looked as though he was about to continue his story, but the sudden opening of the doors to the Hospital Wing distracted him. Harry looked over in the general direction of the noise, and what he saw distracted him, too. It looked like a house elf, but unlike any house elf Harry had ever seen. He assumed the elf was female, for she was wearing a dark blue skirt and jacket. Her boots clicked on the floor, and she wore what looked like a beret, which rested precariously on her head as though it were in danger of falling off. She was carrying a file of some description, and wore a very no-nonsense expression, as well as a pair of horn-rimmed glasses that kept slipping down her crooked nose- Harry thought it resembled a miniature Big Dipper ride.

"What are you staring at, kid? Never seen a house elf in clothes?" she snapped, and Harry was startled.

"N... no, not at all," he replied. "I was just a little..."

"Relax, Connie- he's my little brother," Persephone called out from her bed. Connie's big eyes widened a little more, before she strutted over to Persephone's bed.

"Interesting," she said. "I take it it's not paternal?" She glanced up at Harry's head, and Harry suddenly felt conscious of his scar.

"Guess not," she replied, nonchalantly.

"Here; sit down, Connie," Persephone said, gesturing towards the chair Krum was sitting on. He took the hint, and got up. Connie scrambled up onto the seat, and smiled at him.

"Cheers, guy... Hey, aren't you that Bulgarian Seeker? I got to see a few of your qualifying matches the other year- you played a blinding few games, mate," she enthused. Krum looked astounded, but managed to stammer out a reply.

"Thank you," he said, looking across at Harry for support. Harry, who felt as bewildered as Krum looked, merely shrugged his shoulders.

"I shall come and visit you later, Persephone," Krum announced, before kissing Persephone on the forehead and leaving the Hospital Wing. She waved goodbye, but was soon distracted by Connie.

"How are you doing, Percy?" she asked, glancing at Persephone appraisingly. "You look a lot better than Anya was making out. Anyone would have thought you were falling half to bits!"

Persephone shrugged.

"I know Anya's a lawyer, but her claims weren't wildly exaggerated," she replied. "Fortunately, I've been well looked after. I'm waking short distances without a stick now."

Connie nodded.

"That's good... anyway, enough of all this chin-wagging; we've got work to do." She threw a bunch of files unceremoniously on Persephone's bed. "I brought Faith to see your old man," she explained. "He didn't look too thrilled- hey, I wasn't exactly celebrating having to talk to the guy..."

"I think that might have had more to do with Faith than you," Persephone pointed out. "She did try to kill him last year."

Connie shrugged.

"So? Who hasn't had somebody try to idly take them out? My old master tried to kill me every month." She sneered at the mention of having once been subservient, and Harry instantly thought that Hermione would probably die with happiness if she ever met this particular house elf.

"Who, Kerrigan?" Persephone enquired. Connie laughed harshly.

"Yeah- bloody old nutter. He used to think I was an assassin and try to kill me before I killed him. Bonkers, he was, absolutely bonkers... Anyway, Faith's been safely deposited with the Professor, and I need to talk to you about these photographs."

Suddenly, the door to the Hospital Wing opened again, and in walked Snape, clutching a goblet of smoking liquid in one hand, and Faith in the other. His expression was most sour, and Harry absently wondered if he had sucked on a lemon before entering the room. Connie, however, looked rather displeased.

"Can't an elf get a moment's peace around here?" she complained, hotly. Snape glared at her.

"You have a job to do; so do I," he snapped, before trying to hand Lupin the goblet. Faith wriggled out of Snape's grip and stamped her foot.

"I want to give it him!" she demanded. Snape clicked his tongue in irritation, but conceded to her request.

"Fine, if you desperately want to," he replied, handing the goblet over to Faith, who took it from him with immense care; as though it were the holy grail itself. She handed it to Lupin with a big smile.

"Make sure you drink it all," she instructed, happily. Lupin smiled, although Harry got the impression that he was humouring Faith somewhat.

"Why, thank you, Faith- I will," he replied, before pinching his nose and downing the contents of the goblet in one go. He shuddered, and handed it back to Faith, who inspected it and seemed satisfied he had drunk it all. She tugged on Snape's sleeve.

"Come on!" she said impatiently, "we need to hurry, hurry, hurry! He looks like he might die at any moment... Oh, hi, Percy, how are you feeling?" she suddenly asked, apparently far less concerned about Lupin's mortality than she had been two seconds ago. Persephone smiled.

"I'm doing okay, Faith," she replied, whilst Connie impatiently tapped her foot against the leg of her chair.

"Good," she said, happily. "I'm glad. I'd have missed you, otherwise."

Snape bent over and whispered in Faith's ear, "Can we go now?"

"I want to see Percy!" Faith retorted.

"You'll have plenty of time to see her once we're finished," he replied, in calm tones that Harry presumed took all of Snape's willpower to keep up. He held out his hand, and Faith grudgingly took it.

"Oh, alright," she moaned, before looking at Lupin one more time. "He does look dreadful. In fact," she added in a conspiratorial whisper that was as loud as her normal speaking voice, "I think he looks worse now than when I last said he might die at any moment."

"Right," Snape replied, in a strained voice. "Shall we go?"

Faith nodded.

"Yep- and don't worry Mr. Lupin," she said cheerily. "We'll fix you very soon!"

Snape shook his head in cynical disbelief, and the two of them left the Hospital Wing. Connie clicked her tongue.

"Hallelujah!" she exclaimed sardonically. "Now I can finally get to the nub of the matter..." Her eyes narrowed as she surveyed Lupin sitting upright on his bed. "Though I have to say, you do look terrible."

"Thanks," Lupin replied, shortly. Persephone sniggered.

"Oh, don't worry about her, Remus," she said, breezily. "I've seen lions on heat with better bedside manners than Connie."

"Har har," Connie replied dryly, though Harry noticed a twinkle in her eyes that suggested she was genuinely amused. "Anyway, these photos of the werewolf attack?"

Persephone nodded.

"Yes; do we need to perform any spells or rituals to prevent any long-term effects upon Remus here?" she asked. Connie shook her head.

"No need... Hang on; what's his name again?" she asked. Lupin looked at her.

"My name is Remus Lupin," he replied. Connie instantly put her hand to her mouth and tried unsuccessfully to suppress a snigger.

"What, your name's Remus Lupin, and you're a..."

Lupin rolled his eyes.

"Yes. Apparently the irony isn't just highly amusing to Persephone," he replied, acidically. Connie waved her hand across her face as though trying to scare away a bee.

"I'm terribly sorry, Remus," she replied, before calming down. "Anyway, there's no need to perform any cleansing rituals to stop your soul being damned, or whatever it is that happens when you kill a human, because this attack was not the result of a werewolf," she explained. Persephone looked alarmed.

"What?" she exclaimed. "It looks just like one!"

Connie wagged her finger.

"Ah, but it differs." She pointed at one of the photographs. "See that scar tissue there?"

Persephone looked mildly disgusted, but studied the image anyway.

"Yeah," she replied. Connie looked puzzled for a moment, then horrified.

"Oh, I am sorry, Percy- this was your cousin, wasn't it?"

"Second cousin, possibly once removed," Persephone clarified. "That isn't the point, though- what am I looking at here?"

Connie pointed at something on the photograph, and Persephone pulled out her pince-nez from her robe pocket to study it more closely.

"Are you looking at the scar tissue on the lower torso?" she asked. Persephone nodded.

"Yep," she replied grimly. Connie moved her finger a little.

"Take a closer look at the edges," she instructed. Persephone's eyes widened for a moment.

"They're burn marks, aren't they?" she asked. Connie nodded.

"They are indeed- definitely the result of a spell, and not teeth or claws," she replied.

Harry looked across at Lupin, whose expression read much like one of a man who has been pardoned for a crime just seconds before the hangman was about to open the trap-door.

"So, I didn't do this?" he asked. Connie glanced at him.

"Well, unless you attacked her with a particularly vicious hex, then no, you're in the clear," she replied, before squinting at the photograph again. "However, I don't think this was the work of a wizard. It's too clean. Wizarding spells always leave much messier outlines."

Persephone nodded, as she scrutinised the photographs further.

"Any flaying or immolation spells I can think of would result in the flesh being more ragged- this looks like it's been removed, or eaten- hence the assumption that it was a werewolf attack," she mused. Connie folded her arms.

"You want my opinion?" she asked. Persephone removed her pince-nez and looked up at Connie.

"You ask as though you'd actually refrain from sharing any theories with me that I didn't want to hear," she replied. Connie shrugged.

"Well, I've got to make the right noises, haven't I? Judging from these photos; most notably the characteristically simple lines around the wound area, I'd say that this was the work of a house elf. No other magical being could have managed a spell like this one," she announced. Persephone looked bewildered.

"A house elf? But why would a House elf want to kill a little girl? Even considering the rather poor luck our tribe is having in the mortality stakes, I can't think of any house elves that would willingly murder a child," she said.

Suddenly, Harry had a horrible flash of inspiration.

"Kreacher," he announced, only to realise that Lupin had said the same thing.

"Kreacher?" Persephone asked. Harry sighed.

"He was Sirius' house elf. Well, he was Sirius' mother's house elf. Sirius hated him. Once, Kreacher annoyed him so much, he told him to get out. He took this as a direct order, and went to serve Sirius' cousin, Narcissa. She was the only member of the Black's that he trusted..."

"The Malfoys," Persephone interjected angrily. "The Malfoys did this."

Connie chuckled darkly.

"I love pureblood wizards," she commented. "They're all related to each other. In fact, Percy, you're the only one I've met that isn't inbred to some degree..."

"Ah, but I'm technically not a pureblood, am I?" Persephone replied. "Me and Harry, we're halfbloods. Our mother was a muggleborn witch. I know that means we both have magical parents, but that doesn't count in pureblood circles."

Connie screwed up her forehead in concentration.

"I've said it once, and I'll say it again- you wizards are weird. Really, really weird. Even Muggles aren't quite as bonkers as you lot- and that's saying something!"

Lupin groaned, and ran his fingers through his greying hair once more.

"So, at least now you have a motive," he said, gently. "The Malfoys were merely carrying out Voldemort's orders- kill your tribe..."

"Then kill Alex, and leave Severus until last," Persephone finished. "Except they sent their House elf to do their dirty work."

Harry sighed. If he was honest with himself, it was rather a relief that Lupin had found himself innocent of Angela's murder; for a start, Harry could tell just how badly Lupin had been taking the initial news. At the same time, though, he didn't think Persephone's hatred of the Malfoy's needed fuelling any more- Lucius Malfoy was already responsible for killing her aunt, and Persephone herself a few years ago. He wondered how Draco would fare in the remaining Defence Against the Dark Arts classes they had left in the summer term.

"Are you okay, Harry?" Lupin asked, tenderly. Harry shrugged.

"I'm fine," he replied. "Just thinking."

Lupin smiled warmly.

"Well, that's as good a pastime as any- considering your N.E.W.T.s are coming up," he commented. Harry felt himself grimace- he was not looking forward to them by any stretch of the imagination. He hoped Hermione and Ron would have made up by then; their spats usually didn't last all that long.

"When's the rematch against Slytherin due to take place?" Lupin asked. Harry frowned for a moment.

"I'm not sure," he replied. "I think it's going to be in June- after the N.E.W.T.s, anyway." He inwardly shuddered at the thought. The past three matches- well, two and a half, technically- had gone spectacularly badly for Harry; which seeing as he was the captain of the Gryffindor House team, didn't exactly bode well for any success this time around, for Harry had a similar amount of distractions. On top of schoolwork, wandless magic training (which he still had to practise for an hour every day) and his possible impending death, Harry also had to revise, and take, his N.E.W.T.s. Secretly, he thought he had about as much chance of leading the Gryffindor team to victory next term as he did waking up tomorrow to find that it had rained trout overnight.

The door to the Hospital Wing opened, and at first Harry thought Krum had returned to check up on Persephone. Instead, he looked up to see a nervous-looking Hermione standing in the doorway.

"Is Ron here?" she whispered, upon catching Harry's eye. Harry shook his head.

"No, he's not," he replied. Hermione visibly sighed with relief, before she walked in, closing the door behind her.

"How are you both feeling?" she asked, clearly directing the same question at both Persephone and Lupin.

"Indescribably relieved," Lupin replied.

Hermione looked puzzled, until Persephone piped up, "He's been cleared of all charges, as far as Angela's death is concerned."

Hermione beamed, and hugged a bewildered Lupin, who was clearly surprised- and a little embarrassed- by the contact.

"Oh, that's wonderful!" she shrieked, and it was only Persephone's insistent feigned coughing that broke her attention.

"Oh, sorry, Persephone," she said, blushing a little. Persephone smiled darkly.

"It was the Malfoy's house elf," she explained, abruptly. Hermione looked horrified.

"Oh, are you certain?" she asked. "I mean, I know he wasn't exactly nice; but he did hate being Sirius' slave so very much, and that wasn't exactly a fair way to treat him..."

"Hermione, shut up!" Harry retorted angrily, feeling blood pumping in his ears. Hermione looked at the floor.

"I didn't mean that Sirius was entirely to blame," she protested, somewhat meekly.

Connie, however, surveyed Hermione with interest.

"Is this the S.P.E.W. girl?" she asked Persephone, jabbing her thumb towards a startled Hermione. Persephone nodded.

"She's the one," she replied. Connie got up out of her seat and walked over to Hermione.

"Cute," she said, before extending her hand.

"I'm Connie," she said. Hermione shook her hand.

"I'm Hermione," she replied. "Do you work for the Brethren?"

Connie nodded.

"Yep- and with the emphasis on work," she pointed out. Hermione beamed.

"That's so great!" she said, before frowning a little. "Myself and a friend of mine have been trying to get the house elves here to accept pay, but they aren't too interested..."

"Hermione," Connie interrupted, "A few friendly pointers; if you truly believe that house elves should have the right to not be slaves, then you need to understand with that right, you are also bestowing upon them the right to behave how they please- be it for good or bad. Make no bones about it; a house elf killed that little girl."

Hermione looked mortified, and it seemed that this, if anything, made Connie smile with some affection.

"I don't mean to be harsh, but whichever way you look at it, an innocent girl has been killed."

Hermione sighed, and nodded.

"I know," she replied, "but what about the Malfoys? They were the ones that ordered Kreacher to do it..."

Connie patted Hermione gently on the hand.

"Listen, kid. I've got a few friends who are servants here, I know what you've been up to. Your heart's in the right place, but you've got to wake up to one thing- freedom means freedom to choose, and if that means choosing to be a slave- crazy as we might think it to be- then it's a valid choice... Look, I've got to go now, but here." She handed Hermione a small piece of card. "Floo me sometime, and we can talk. I'll give you a few pointers."

"Erm, thank you," Hermione replied uncertainly, staring at the piece of card Connie had given her. Harry leant over to get a closer look at it, and could now see it was a business card. Connie's Floo details imprinted on it, and it also had a small raised bump that made Harry wonder if a Portkey was concealed within it.

"I'll see you later, Percy," Connie announced, before exiting the Hospital Wing, leaving everyone almost as befuddled as she had by her arrival.

Hermione suddenly clicked her fingers, and pulled out some sort of scroll from her robe pocket.

"Oh, I almost forgot," she announced. "I think this is for you, Remus- it's got your name on it, anyway." She handed the scroll to Lupin, who studied it for a moment, before gingerly opening it up, and a small object slid into his lap upon doing so. The parchment seemed innocuous enough, except that Lupin was staring at it in incomprehension.

"I don't understand a word of this," he admitted, before passing it onto Persephone. "You're the language expert; I don't suppose you can enlighten me?"

Persephone relieved Lupin of the parchment, and began to scan its contents.

"I'm afraid I can only pick out the odd word," she replied. "I can tell you it's from Ameline, though- I recognise her handwriting. Plus, she's helpfully signed the bottom- although given her handwriting, that's hardly of much aid..."

Lupin had picked up the object that had fallen into his lap, and was examining it against the light. It was a pendant of some description- Harry presumed from the way Lupin was comfortably holding it, that Ameline hadn't tried to harm him with the Snapes' protective silver. From the thin chain hung a small, heart-shaped charm. Persephone glanced towards it, and smiled.

"I think this is Ameline's way of forgiving you, Loup. Presumably, she's accepted that it wasn't a conscious decision on your part," she explained. "I know you've just been exonerated anyway, but that's a pretty gracious thing for her to do. Blood feuds can last for generations- normally, you'd have had your family and descendents hunted down and killed until neither party can remember what started it all."

Lupin snorted.

"What a delightful picture you've just painted," he replied. "Still, I suppose given the fact that it was her daughter, and that Severus still blames me for his non-murder, I'm rather grateful to her for her kindness. Why she didn't come to see me herself, I can't understand," he commented, before setting the pendant down on his bedside table. "Did she ask you to give it to me, Hermione?"

Hermione shook her head.

"No, I just found it outside the door," she replied. Persephone's eyes narrowed almost instantaneously.

"That's odd," she remarked. "Ameline's not the kind of woman to be reticent on such matters..." She looked at Harry nervously.

"I don't suppose you'll do me a huge favour, will you?" she asked. Harry knew what was coming.

"If this involves visiting Snape..."

"Professor Snape, Harry," Lupin interrupted.

"Yeah; then you should know by now he hates my guts. I shan't get anything useful out of him," Harry continued. Persephone shook her head.

"I just want you to pass the scroll onto him," she replied. "Look- I'll write down everything I want him to do. All you have to do is hand it over to him- I promise I'll make it up to you sometime," she insisted. "You can take Hermione- she won't mind, will you, Hermione?" she continued, and Harry felt that her actions were a cynical attempt to try and tempt him with the deal.

"Fine," he replied, grudgingly taking the scroll off her, and the hastily scribbled note that followed. "If I get detention, though, you're getting me out of it," he warned. Persephone grinned.

"Oh come off it," she replied. "He's got his hands full with Faith; I doubt he's got the energy spare to try and give you a detention for doing what I asked you to. Anyway, you'll have Hermione with you," she added, with a wink that was not lost on either Harry nor Hermione; the latter of whom returned it with possibly the filthiest look Harry had ever seen her shoot. Persephone, as per usual, was not in the least bit offended, and instead tried to hide her giggles from Lupin, who looked most perturbed by her behaviour.

"Come on, then," Harry said, nudging Hermione gently in the ribs. "Let's go."

As they approached Snape's office, Harry and Hermione soon became aware that they were not the only students in search of the Potions Master. Theodore Nott was standing in front of a desk, looking positively infuriated. Judging by the notebook he was gripping tightly, he had come to ask Snape about something pertaining to their N.E.W.T. exams. Harry couldn't help but snigger- he imagined only the Slytherins would dare to pester Snape about any work, for he'd likely kick any other students out of his office before they even got as far as, "Please, Professor..."

Harry practically had to gnaw on his knuckles to hide his amusement when he saw who Nott was trying to converse with.

"Look," he continued, impatience creeping into his voice. "Do you know where Professor Snape is?"

Faith looked him up and down, then nodded proudly.

"Yep," she replied. Nott sighed.

"Then, where is he?" he pleaded, wearily. Faith shook her head, grinning from ear to ear.

"Guess!" she announced.

"I don't have time to guess," he replied irritably, "I just need you to tell me..."

Faith tutted, and wagged her finger as though she were disciplining a small dog.

"No trying to get any clues," she warned, in that lilting, singsong voice Harry knew too well. "Just guess."

Nott snorted.

"Fine. Is he in his office?" he asked. Faith grinned, then shook her head.

"Nope," she replied gleefully. "Try again!"

"Is he in his classroom?"

"Erm... nope."

"Is he..." Nott seemed to contemplate how much longer he wanted to continue in this vein for, as he added, "Forget it- can you give him a message?"

Faith nodded happily, and grabbed a piece of parchment and held her quill poised for writing. Nott smiled in relief.

"Finally- can you tell Professor Snape that Theodore Nott's looking for him?"

Faith looked puzzled, but scribbled something down anyway.

"So, you're not looking for him?" she enquired. Nott looked at her as though she were insane- which Harry knew to be a fairly accurate diagnosis.

"No, I am," he replied. Faith appeared rather confused.

"But you said you're not looking for him," she replied. Nott shook his head.

"No, I'm Nott," he reiterated.

"You're not what?" she persisted. Nott groaned and ran a hand through his hair.

"No, my name is Nott," he repeated, crossly. Faith bit down on her lip, as though trying to hide a smile.

"Your name is not what?" she asked, again.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake! Can you tell Professor Snape that one of his students is looking for him?" he demanded, hotly. Faith nodded, then giggled.

"So, you're Nott?" she asked. Nott nodded.

"Yes, I'm Nott," he said, through gritted teeth, and Harry thought he was close to hexing Faith, who was grinning like a Cheshire cat.

"You're not looking for..."

"I want to see Professor Snape," Nott repeated, slowly. Harry was impressed that he hadn't completely lost his temper with her. Faith seemed oblivious to the fury she was causing.

"I tell you what, Nott," she said, with a wink. "You're not revising, that's what you're not doing."

Snape entered the room from the storeroom within his office at that point, and looked thoroughly ill tempered.

"She hasn't been giving you much trouble, has she, Theodore?" he asked, placing a vial of some liquid on Faith's desk. Nott shook his head.

"Not at all, Professor," he replied, and Harry doubted it took an Occlumens to work out he was lying. Snape smiled grimly at Nott as he took the notebook out of Nott's hands.

"Don't worry about it- she's disposed towards being a pain," he replied, at which Faith glared at him.

"Oi!" she retorted. "I'm doing you a favour here! It's not my fault!" She pointed at Nott. "It's Nott! Get it?" She doubled up with laughter. "It's Nott..."

"Faith, you're not funny," Snape replied, tersely, as he flicked through Nott's notebook. Faith shrieked with laughter at this.

"Nott funny! That's a good one, Severus!" she replied, between snorting giggles, and Harry saw Snape reach for the small green stress-ball Luna had left on his desk during the beginning of the school year. He almost tore through it upon seeing Harry and Hermione.

"And today just keeps getting better- what do you two want?" he snapped, as Nott scribbled down a time on Snape's calendar and exited the office. Harry held out the scroll, and Persephone's note.

"It's from Persephone," he explained. "She thinks Ameline meant it for Remus, but Hermione found it outside the Hospital Wing..."

"What is it, a death warrant?" Snape asked, coldly. Harry felt the hackles on his neck stand up in fury.

"No, Persephone seems to think it's Ameline's way of offering Remus forgiveness..."

Snape snorted.

"Fine; I'll go and find Ameline when I've got a free moment; now, goodbye, Potter," he said, without so much as looking up from his work.

"Goodbye, Professor," Harry replied stiffly, making sure the epithet sounded like an insult. On their way out of the office, Harry was sure he heard Faith complain, "You're really grumpy, you are. I'm going to start calling you Professor Grumpy. Is this distilled wolfsbane pollen?"

"I can't wait until the N.E.W.T.s are over; hopefully I'll never have to see him again," Harry complained to Hermione as they made their way up the stairs. "One of these days, I'll hex him with something really nasty... Don't look at me like that," Harry pleaded, upon seeing Hermione's scathing glare. "It isn't just me. Ron would probably help me, too..."

"Don't talk to me about Ron," Hermione sighed, and for the first time, Harry noticed she wasn't actually angry about it.

"You two still not made up?" he asked, gently. Hermione shook her head sadly.

"What can I say?" she asked, although Harry got the impression that the question was strictly rhetorical. "For a start, he keeps avoiding me, so logistically I can't really make the first move, even if I wanted to."

"You could write to him," Harry suggested, at which Hermione laughed bitterly.

"I think he'd just rip it up, don't you?" she replied. Harry shrugged.

"I think he's just a bit upset..."

"Oh, and what about me?" Hermione spat. "It's okay for him to be upset, but it doesn't matter if he's upset me by avoiding me because I kissed somebody other than him? We've never even gone out!"

"I know he's being a bit irrational," Harry reasoned. Hermione snorted.

"A bit?" she retorted, her eyes wide with indignation. "Anyway, why should I have to do the running? It's his problem. For once, I'm sick of putting up with his contempt for everything I do."

"Hermione, Ron doesn't hold you or your behaviour in contempt!" Harry protested. "If anything, he admires you. True, he doesn't exactly shout it from the rooftops, but you know he thinks highly of you."

"Does he?" Hermione asked, looking Harry straight in the eye. Harry, recognising the question as being another rhetorical one, didn't really know what to say, and instead he found himself gently avoiding eye contact.

They walked a little further along the corridor in silence, until Harry asked, "So, you don't want him to fancy you?"

Hermione sighed heavily, and stopped next to the staircase.

"I don't know," she replied, after a short pause. "I mean I did. You remember that Yule Ball we had back in our fourth year?" she asked. Harry nodded grimly. He remembered it all too well- and he hoped he wouldn't have to repeat the experience for a long time to come. Hermione began to wring her hands a little.

"Part of me really wanted him to ask me to go with him," she confessed, not without a small blush creeping into her cheeks. "He didn't, obviously, but then Viktor and Neville had both asked me, so I thought, 'Well, it can't be me, can it? There can't be anything so dreadful about me that would mean Ron wouldn't have wanted to go with me.' Anyway, I thought I might be upset on the night, seeing as Ron was going with another girl- but I had such fun with Viktor, that I didn't care. He was so sweet- nothing at all like Ron. He didn't get all stroppy because other guys paid me attention- in fact, he commented that he thought more guys should, because I was so..." She trailed off, and coughed a little. "Anyway, I'll admit he was a little jealous of you, Harry, but that's the thing. Ron basically admitted he was jealous of, you know, what happened with Snape-the-teenager, and he's sulking. He's blaming me entirely for the fact that he is jealous. Viktor, on the other hand, just came out and asked me if anything was going on between you and me. True, he later confessed that he had asked you as well, but the point is, he didn't sulk, attack me for it or try to make me feel bad. He simply put his own mind at ease, and accepted what we told him as truth. I'll tell you this, Harry." Her voice got slightly more aggressive at this point. "Not once, did he ever blame me for his feelings. Not once. With Ron, that's all he ever seems to do. So, I don't know what I want him to think."

With those words, she walked up the staircase to the Gryffindor common room, leaving Harry feeling somewhat concerned for the continued friendship of Ron, Hermione and himself.

The next few days passed, and were relatively uneventful. Harry spent most of his time either revising with Hermione, who had cobbled together a small N.E.W.T. study group in the library, or revising with Ron, whose preferred location was the Gryffindor common room, along with Neville, Dean and Seamus. Neither Ron nor Hermione had broken their silence, and Harry could tell that it was bothering them both to no end. Hermione, naturally, threw herself into her revision to compensate; Ron, on the other hand, spent considerably more time moping about the situation.

One of the days, where Harry had been revising the finer points of Evasive Transfiguration with Hermione in the library, things became a little livelier. A grey-haired figure, dressed in black had managed to scare a couple of the Ravenclaw girls by running into the library shouting, "Juanita! Juanita!" at the top of his voice. By the time Harry got out of his seat to investigate, the figure had closed in on their table, and Harry recognised him immediately as Frederick Snape. He looked extremely anxious, and grabbed Harry by the scruff on his robes, as if to visibly demonstrate his concern.

"You! Have you seen her? Have you seen Ameline?" he demanded, hotly. Hermione gently touched his arm.

"Calm down, Mr. Snape," she soothed in a quiet voice, but Frederick was not in the least bit impressed.

"Calm down?" he asked, incredulously. "Calm down? My wife, she has gone missing, and you want me to calm down? Dim-witted Gaje!" he hissed.

"You're the one causing all the disturbance," Harry retorted, angrily, but Hermione stopped him.

"It doesn't matter, Harry." She looked up at Frederick, who was still looking around, frantically trying to catch a glimpse of Ameline. "Now, what's happened?"

"What has happened? She is missing, that's what has happened! Missing for a day and a half!" he explained impatiently, whilst still shifting his glance across the room.

"We should take him to McGonagall's office," Hermione advised, but Frederick shook himself free of her grip.

"I am not an idiot," he snapped. "I can find my own way to a room. I shall find Severus again. I'd rather not involve Gaje in a tribal matter."

With that, he swept out of the library, leaving Harry and Hermione somewhat bewildered.

"If he doesn't want to involve Gaje- why ask us in the first place?" Harry asked, angrily. Hermione sighed.

"He's obviously distressed," she pointed out unnecessarily. "He was calling for Juanita- I presume that's Ameline's tribal name, seeing as he didn't use the other name when talking to us about her. If she's gone missing, and seeing as Voldemort does want them all dead, I'm not surprised he's acting a bit oddly."

Harry shrugged in a resigned fashion. Whenever anything remotely odd happened nowadays, he was even more predisposed to finding it unsettling than he was before Voldemort brought his plans and his armies out into the open. He was pretty much resigned to the fact that if Ameline was missing, it was because Voldemort wanted her to be. From what Persephone had told him last night, she wouldn't be the only tribe member to have gone missing from the Forbidden Forest these past few days.

"It looks like that prophesy is coming true, H," she had sighed. "Either that, or Voldemort doesn't want to put the Seers out of business." It looked as though Persephone had wanted to shout, or get angry, but a quick glance across at Lupin- who had finally succumb to a fitful sleep in his werewolf form- and she had decided against it.

"Harry, are you okay?" Hermione asked, tenderly, and Harry soon shook himself from his mental meanderings.

"Yeah, I'm alright," he replied. "Just... Well, you know. Things aren't exactly great at the moment, are they?" he replied. Hermione nodded sadly.

"No. What with Remus' constant transforming, the Snapes being picked off one by one..." She trailed off, and looked up at Harry with wide eyes. "What next?"

Harry sighed.

"I wish I knew," he replied, before he mulled the concept over. "Or, maybe I don't. Haversacking Humphrey!"

The Fat Lady's portrait swung away, exposing the entrance to the Gryffindor common room. Harry stepped back, allowing Hermione to enter first. She stopped dead halfway into the common room.

"Erm, I'm going to go and do a bit more revision up in the dormitory," she said uncertainly, before running across the room and up the stairs, whilst deliberately avoiding eye contact with anybody else that might be in the room. Harry correctly guessed that Ron was present.

Feeling terribly as though he was being forced to take sides in some way, Harry gingerly say down next to Ron, who looked up at him from a small stack of parchment.

"Oh, hi, Harry," he said, casually. "Are you planning to go over some of Ridley's stuff before bed?"

"Erm, yeah," Harry replied, bracing himself for Ron's inevitable backlash over Harry having spent time with Hermione. Except it didn't come.

"Look, Harry," Ron said, "I don't mind you hanging around with Hermione, so there's no need to look so worried!"

"I wasn't worried," Harry lied, as he picked up a Charms textbook from the table. "How have you been getting on?"

Ron shrugged.

"Alright, I suppose," he replied, wearily. "Potions has been doing my head in, though."

They sat in silence for a few moments, Ron becoming increasingly fidgety as they did so. Eventually, just as Harry had started to read over the theory behind Conjuring Charms, Ron tapped him sharply on the arm.

"Did Hermione say anything?" he whispered urgently. Harry looked at him.

"About what?" he asked. Ron rolled his eyes.

"About, you know," he whispered as his ears prickled red. "About what I said..."

Harry became very aware of the sudden stillness around him that indicated the rest of the table were listening in. So, apparently, had Ron.

"Oi, aren't you guys supposed to be revising!" he demanded, hotly. Dean, Seamus and Neville looked at each other, before deliberately hiding themselves behind their textbooks.

"Well, not in so many words," Harry admitted. "I think she's a bit upset, to tell you the truth."

Ron picked up his textbook, and began to shuffle through the pages in quite an aggressive manner.

"Typical," he grunted, "I'm the one that completely humiliates himself, and she's upset!" He paused for a moment, before asking, in a rather more meek voice "Is she really angry with me?"

Harry sighed- this was all getting a bit too much. It was like being involved in one of those television programmes that Aunt Petunia liked to watch; those soaps that were set on a street, or in a square, where practically everyone was related to each other by marriage or blood and spent time lurching from one crisis to another.

"Why don't you talk to her?" he asked. Ron ran his hands through his hair.

"I can't," he moaned, and for the first time, Harry noticed how distraught Ron looked.

"Why not?" he asked, in what he hoped was a gentle sounding voice. Ron sighed heavily.

"Because I've completely stuffed up, that's why," he replied. "I really like her, Harry," he added, quietly.

"How long has this been going on for?" Harry asked, slightly uncertain he was ready for the news. Ron flicked over a page in his textbook.

"I dunno- about a year, I suppose," he replied. Harry looked incredulously at him.

"A year!" he exclaimed, and Ron hissed at him to be quiet.

Dean, Seamus and Neville looked up at them, and started to laugh.

"A year? Yeah, right," Dean replied, between giggles.

"More like three," Seamus added, also helpless with mirth. Ron glared at them.

"Will you two just shut up!" he ordered, crossly, his cheeks burning red as well as his ears. Dean, Seamus and Neville returned their attention to their books. Ron took a deep breath, and continued.

"When Hermione's family got attacked by Death Eaters- I really thought we might lose her," he explained. "I started thinking about it then, and I suppose I realised just how much I'd miss her if she wasn't in my life anymore. I was so relieved when she woke up and she was okay, but I couldn't go up and talk to her. I didn't know what to say. I know she's been our friend for almost seven years, but at that moment, I couldn't think of a single thing to say to her, except, 'Hermione, you're okay- go out with me!' which would have been monumentally stupid- she nearly died! 'Course, then Krum had to turn up, didn't he," he grumbled.

"Why didn't you say something after?" Harry asked. "It would have saved all this bother."

Ron snorted contemptuously.

"Oh, yeah, because that wouldn't have upset her," he snapped back, sarcastically. "Come on, Harry; she really liked him. Besides, you know what Hermione's like. If I'd have owned up whilst she was going out with Krum, she'd have been upset, because it would have meant hurting my feelings, or his. I couldn't do that to her..."

"So instead, you bottled everything up for almost a year, and then completely lost it when Hermione told you about... you know," Harry replied, somewhat cheekily, although he was careful not to mention Snape's unwitting involvement in all of this in front of their peers. Ron looked glumly at Harry.

"I didn't say it was one of my best ideas," he replied.

"So, are you going to talk to her?" Harry asked, again.

"And say what?" Ron asked, indignantly.

"I don't know; how about everything you told me?" Harry suggested. Ron slumped forward, and rested his head no the table.

"What's the point?" he asked, dolefully, looking sideways at Harry from his position on the table. "She's had an international Quidditch player running after her; what kind of chance do I stand? Maybe it's just as well we've fallen out- I don't think I could handle it if she started going out with other guys, anyway..."

"Well, I'd imagine Hermione has her fair share of admirers," Neville commented absently, whilst flicking through a Transfiguration textbook.

Harry put down his own book and stared at him.

"Neville, what do you know about this?" he asked, momentarily terrified that Neville knew about Hermione's dalliance with Snape twenty years ago.

"Yeah, has Hermione spoke to you about anyone?" Ron demanded, lifting his head up from the table with alarming speed. Neville, who was busy scribbling notes on a piece of parchment, pursed his lips slightly.

"Well, no..."

"Then who told you?" Ron persisted. "Is this a general thing that I haven't been told about? Or did you hear it from Jeremy and Szeto- now, I know those two fancy her..."

"It's my opinion," Neville replied, simply. "She's nice, and kind, and let's face it- she scrubs up pretty well, you have to admit."

Harry nodded; ignoring the reproachful look Ron gave him.

"So," Neville continued, "if certain people don't like the idea of Hermione going out with other guys, then certain people should swallow their pride and do something about it."

"Sounds like certain people fancy her themselves," Ron grumbled under his breath. Neville slammed his book down with a loud thump that made Harry jump.

"Certain people may well think she's nice," he replied. "Certain people may also have realised, many years ago, that Hermione looks upon certain people as just a friend. However, if certain people weren't so pig-headed, they'd have noticed that Hermione is never affected much by peoples' opinions, unless they are voiced by certain people, which gives certain people the impression that if she can be so wound-up, or so moved, by certain people's attitudes, then certain people may well stand a very good chance that she will reciprocate certain people's feelings. Now, I'm going to carry on revising for Transfiguration, if you don't mind," he announced, opening his textbook back up and continuing with his work. Harry was still trying to figure out which certain people were Neville, which certain people were Ron, and which certain people were neither; but he stopped when he got a good look at Ron. Whatever Neville had said, Ron had clearly understood, and was clearly giving it some thought.

Harry wasn't sure how much more of this he could take. Ron was still steadfastly staring at his textbook- that Harry had noticed was still on the same page it had been on half an hour ago- and not doing anything about the problem of Hermione. Eventually, after spending another hour revising counter-curses for Defence Against the Dark Arts, and with Ron still making no move to find Hermione, Harry decided it was time to grab his invisibility cloak, and pay Hagrid a visit. If anybody knew how to knock some sense into Ron, it had to be him.

Wrapping his invisibility cloak around himself to ward off the chill of the night air, as well as to hide himself from view, Harry knocked on the door of Hagrid's hut. It opened, and revealed a wary looking Hagrid.

"Who's there?" he demanded, brandishing his crossbow.

"It's me," Harry said, lifting up his invisibility cloak. Hagrid sighed with relief.

"Hello there, Harry- you gave me a bi' of a frigh' there," he admitted, before narrowing his eyes at Harry.

"What do yer think yer doin'? Wanderin' about the grounds at this time of night? Merlin knows who you could've bumped inter?" he chastised. Harry pulled a suitably sheepish expression.

"I'm sorry Hagrid," he replied, "but I really don't think I was in that much danger- nobody could see me, and anyway, the wards on Hogwarts have been strengthened even more after that attack the other week."

Hagrid's reproachful expression soon gave way to a kindly smile.

"It ne'er 'urts ter be careful. Now, come on in," he instructed, clapping a hand on Harry's back and pushing him into the hut. A fire was blazing merrily, and Fang was sleeping in front of it, hogging the warmth and making odd hiccupping noises as he slept.

"Don' worry abou' him; he's jus' dreamin'," Hagrid assured him, upon seeing Harry's bemused expression. "Sit down- you'd want a cup of tea, I'd imagine."

"Yes please, Hagrid," Harry replied, pulling himself up onto one of Hagrid's enormous wooden chairs. Hagrid put a copper kettle onto the stove of the fire, and took a couple of mugs from his cupboard.

"Now then, what brings yer 'ere without Ron and Hermione?" he asked, kindly. Harry sighed.

"Oh, where to begin!" he exclaimed, before pouring out almost the entire story of what had happened between Ron and Hermione. He omitted any references to Snape- partly because he didn't want Hermione to be embarrassed by it, but mostly because the thought of his friend kissing Snape, even as a teenager, still made him feel a little nauseous.

By the time Harry had finished his explanation, the tea had been brewed and Hagrid was chuckling.

"Well, it can' have come as much o' a shock, Harry," he replied, gently. "Everyone has been expectin' it- in fact, I must admit I had a little flutter..."

"What date did you go for?" Harry asked, interrupting Hagrid. "I know Professor Flitwick won the bet the staff had."

Hagrid flushed deeply behind his bushy beard.

"Oh, well. I picked sometime in January," he replied, clearly a little embarrassed by his behaviour. Harry thought he had no need- it was more than the other teachers had shown. In fact, Harry was sure he had passed Professor Flitwick in the corridor a few days ago, singing a song that contained the words, 'If I were a rich man...'

"Has he spoken ter her?" Hagrid asked, distracting Harry from his thoughts of the newly ebullient Professor Flitwick. Harry shook his head.

"Nope," he replied. "He won't. I was hoping you'd know how I could make him. I'm not sure how much more of this I can take..."

Hagrid patted him consolingly on the arm, and Harry nearly went flying into his mug.

"I'm afraid yer going ter 'ave ter let him make his own mind up on tha' one," he replied. "I'm sure they'll sort it out; I mean, yer three 'ave been friends for nearly seven years- that counts for something," he added, sagely.

Suddenly, Harry thought he heard angry voices from in the distance. He dismissed it as his overworked brain imagining things, but then he heard shrieks of terror and pain, and he knew he couldn't have imagined those. His thoughts were confirmed when Hagrid jumped out of his seat.

"What in Merlin's name is going on out there?" he asked, rushing towards the window and squinting into the distance.

"Where's it coming from?" Harry asked. Hagrid narrowed his eyes a little more.

"The Forbidden Forest is my guess," he replied, whilst he continued to look outside. Harry remembered Frederick's desperate search for Ameline, and wondered if perhaps he had now found her.

"Yer stay here, Harry," Hagrid warned, as he put on his moleskin coat. "I'm just goin' ter see what's goin' on."

"If you're going, then so am I," Harry replied, forcefully. Hagrid looked at him.

"Don' be daft, Harry- it's even less safe ter go in there now than it was during your first year!" he said.

"But you took me into the forest then, didn't you?" Harry retorted. "As part of my detention."

Hagrid looked around the room; apparently he couldn't come up with an argument against Harry's point.

"Oh, alrigh'," he said, waking up Fang, who got to his feet languidly. "But stay close, and keep Fang by yer side."

"I thought you said he was a coward," Harry pointed out. Hagrid shrugged.

"He's better than nothin'," Hagrid replied, as he opened the hut door. "Keep your wand on yer..."

"I can do wandless magic," Harry interrupted. Hagrid looked at him.

"I don' care if you can do wandless magic or not; yer keep yer wand out!" he ordered. "Yer keep close ter me, and the minute we see anything ever remotely connected with Voldemort, we're comin' straigh' back 'ere without so much as a stop for air," he said, sternly, as Harry followed him outside.

They hadn't far got into the Forbidden Forest when they saw what the kerfuffle was all about. Frederick was facing a couple of very angry Centaurs, and looked rather displeased.

"I don't care!" he was shouting. "You have no right to attack my tribe!"

"They're attracting all manner of creatures here!" one of the centaurs argued, whom Harry recognised from his mane of blonde hair as Bane.

"You must leave," another centaur ordered. Frederick waved his hand in dismissal of their requests.

"We go nowhere," he replied. "The tribe will not be separated again. Two of our number work in Hogwarts."

"We shall not let you stay here a minute longer! You'll have to kill us first!" one of the other centaurs, whom Harry recognised as Magorian, spat. Frederick laughed humourlessly.

"That can be arranged," he replied, threateningly.

"Ere, what's goin' on?" Hagrid demanded loudly, as he strode towards the group. Bane trotted over to him, preventing Hagrid from moving any further towards them.

"What are you doing in our Forest?" he demanded. "You have no right to be here..."

"Never mind what I'm doin' 'ere," Hagrid retorted, "what are yer lot doin' arguin' so loudly, I can 'ere yer from my house!"

Frederick laughed harshly.

"It appears the Centaurs are beginning to fear things that they claim to be above," he replied, much to Bane's chagrin.

"We do not appreciate the manner in which your tribe are bringing their problems into our domain!" he retorted, angrily. Frederick glared back at him, and pointed at him aggressively.

"My wife is missing, my tribe keep getting killed. This is not 'bringing our problems into your domain', as you put it, but Voldemort forcing his problems onto us!" he insisted. Bane shrugged dismissively.

"That is not my concern," he replied smoothly. "We desire not to be embroiled in human affairs- but if you insist on remaining here, you must accept that we will do everything we can to drive you out, to protect our heard!" His voice increased in volume as he spoke.

"I shall not be pushed!" Frederick retorted, in a manner that strongly suggested to Harry that he was prepared to wage war on the Centaurs.

"You might not get a choice!" Bane countered, furiously.

Suddenly, Harry felt the earth shake beneath his feet, and he struggled to stay in an upright position. Bane turned to Frederick with fury in his eyes.

"Giants," he said. "Your tribe has attracted Voldemort's armies here!"

Frederick stroked his chin in thought.

"Indeed," he commented. "Bloodthirsty creatures, the giants. They'll rip your whole herd up in the time it takes you to sneeze, won't they?"

"We can hold our own," Bane snarled. Frederick knelt down, and put his ear to the ground.

"Fifteen, sixteen... sounds like there's a score of them, at least. I'd like to see your small herd defend itself against them, and win," he replied, smoothly.

"What are you getting at?" Bane snapped. Frederick smiled slowly.

"Well, you can't fight them alone; we can't fight them alone. However, your herd and my tribe combined could probably drive them away..."

"I refuse to work with humans," Bane spat. Frederick shrugged.

"Have it your way," he replied. "We'll just keep out of the way..."

"You can't just leave them to kill the Centaurs!" Harry protested. "Even if they are being gits!"

Ronan looked at Harry with fury, but Frederick merely glanced at him contemptuously.

"You dare to tell me what I can and cannot do for the safety of my tribe?" he demanded, coldly. Hagrid glared at him.

"Leave 'im alone- he's par' of yer tribe!" he pointed out, crossly. Frederick sighed.

"No, he isn't. He's the brother of Persephone, but he does not share our blood..."

"He shares Persephone's, doesn' tha' count fer somethin'?" Hagrid asked.

Suddenly, everyone fell silent. Harry became aware of a thundering sound echoing in the distance- the giants were coming closer. Bane seemed to have turned a shade paler. Magorian looked furious.

"We care not for your pathetic genealogical semantics!" he bellowed, but Bane distracted him.

"Fine," he said, looking at Frederick. "We would be grateful for your assistance," he replied, tersely. Frederick smiled darkly.

"I thought you'd see sense," he said, as he rested his hand against his forehead and peered out over the distance.

"It looks as though they are gaining upon us," he said, before breaking into a run; Bane and the rest of the Centaurs present soon followed. Hagrid looked at Harry.

"I'd betteh go an' try ter help," he explained. Harry nodded.

"Fine- I'm coming with you," he said. Hagrid looked as though he was about to express his reservations, but had calculated the amount of precious time he would lose by escorting Harry back to the Hogwarts building.

"Alrigh', alrigh'- but I'm not happy about this," he said, in a grim voice. "Now, follow me, an' keep close!"

Harry nodded, and kept near to Hagrid's side as they carefully picked their way further into the dense forest.

Owing to the darkness, Harry was finding it increasingly difficult to see. In fact, he had almost fallen flat on his face as a result of tripping over numerous tree roots that had snaked through the remnants of a path. Even with the lack of sufficient moonlight to guide him, Harry could tell that they were so far into the forest now that any of the previously eroded pathways ceased to exist.

"Hagrid, can we use a light?" Harry asked.

"If yer like- I don' need it meself- I'm sorta' used ter teh area," he replied.

"Dextera; Lumos," Harry whispered, and a blue flame swiftly erupted from his fingertips. He cupped the flame in both his hands, and took a furtive look around at his surroundings. Almost as soon as he had done, he realised he didn't need any light to work out what was happening- the screams and angry yells were more than enough of a pointer. He shuddered at the sight, and next to him, he heard Fang whimper slightly.

"Gerrout of it, yer daft mutt," Hagrid said, scratching Fang's ears. However, by the light of Harry's blue flame, he could see the consternation written across Hagrid's face. The scene before them was terrible. Centaurs and wizards alike were strewn across the landscape- Harry watched in horror as one of the elder men of the Snape tribe was flung against a tree as though he were a rag-doll. A sickening crack told Harry he wasn't going to get up again. Frederick looked frantic, grimly attempting to hold off the giants with spells and a large mace, which he wielded about his head, its chain slackening when it made contact with a giant. Bane and Ronan swiftly turned their bow and arrows towards the scene, and began to shoot at the giant Frederick was defending himself against. Soon enough, the giant fell to the ground with a crash, taking one of its nearby companions with him; not to mention a centaur, which served to increase Bane's anger. Another giant stomped towards them, and leered menacingly at Frederick, who gripped his mace more tightly, and Harry thought he could see his knuckles turning pale with the effort.

"Stay here!" Hagrid ordered, before he rushed towards the fracas.

"I'm coming with you!" Harry shouted. Hagrid stopped, and turned to face Harry.

"No, yer not!" he said, in a tone of such force, that Harry thought it best not to disobey. Instead, he stood watching, feeling utterly useless, whilst Fang whimpered and rubbed against his legs. Hagrid has attempted to tackle the giant facing Frederick, and clamped his great arms around the creature's legs. He began to topple over, but managed to kick Hagrid away, bashing his huge foot into Hagrid's face. Harry winced as he heard the crunch of bone against bone, and soon enough, Hagrid was splayed out upon the forest floor, struggling to catch his breath. Frederick took advantage of the giant's distraction, however, for he swiftly hexed it, before smashing his mace straight between the giant's eyes. With a groan, it slid to the floor, uprooting a number of nearby trees in the process.

It was about then that Harry noticed something odd happen. One of the giants- a smaller one- turned on a nearby giant that looked ready to rip Frederick's head from his shoulders. With astonishing force, this giant smashed its great, ham like fist into the skull of the other, causing it to fall to the floor with a loud scream of pain. Frederick looked equally stunned, and jerked his head towards the remaining centaurs. If he had been hoping for an explanation from them, Harry thought he was out of luck, for they looked just as bewildered by this attack. Within seconds, the giants were fighting amongst themselves with even more fury than they had set upon the Snapes and the centaurs. One of the smaller giants bounded over to where Hagrid was wheezing away. Harry started, and gripped his wand tightly. If he timed it right, he could stop it from attacking Hagrid; maybe with a couple of Stunners and that Binding Hex Persephone had taught them, but something stopped him.

"Hagger?" the giant grunted, and Harry instantly knew what was happening. Grawp had come home.

"Hagger?" Grawp repeated, before hoisting Hagrid over his shoulder and carrying him away from the scene. He stomped towards Harry, and laid Hagrid down on the grass near Harry's feet. Fang lolloped over and began to lick at Hagrid's face.

"Calm down, yer daft mutt; I'm alrigh'," Hagrid insisted, pulling himself up to a sitting position. He looked up at Grawp, and Harry saw tears well up in his beetle-black eyes.

"Grawp! Yer alrigh'!" he exclaimed, happily, before asking, "Where did yer go?"

Grawp grunted, and pointed to the crowd of giants, who, with the help of Frederick and the remaining centaurs, were laying waste to the attacking giants.

"Friend," he grunted. "Friend like Hagger. Bring Hagger friend."

Harry felt his jaw slacken in shock. Grawp, clearly appreciative of the support and care Hagrid had offered him as an abandoned giant, had gone and found other outcasts from giant tribes and brought them to Hogwarts! Judging by the sheer number of slightly more docile giants currently stomping and grunting over their now comatose quarry, Harry assumed Grawp had spread word- or grunt- far and wide during his sojourn. Hagrid, on the other hand, looked remarkably pleased.

"See," he replied, beaming at Grawp, "I told yer yeh'd make friends!" With those words, he lifted himself up onto his feet and attempted to embrace Grawp, who resisted the attention at first. Eventually, though he stayed still long enough to allow Hagrid to hug him, but did not return the gesture. In an odd way, it reminded Harry of Faith's vague detachment whenever somebody tried to engage with her on an emotional level.

Unsure of where to look, Harry turned away from Hagrid and Grawp's strange reunion, and found himself watching Frederick, who looked around the forest with a grim expression etched into his features. Bane had cantered up to him, and was watching him with a palpable wariness.

"Is there anything I can do?" he asked, eventually, which stunned Harry; the last time he had the pleasure of Bane's company, he had not been particularly friendly- in fact, he had been rather disdainful of his and Hermione's plight.

Frederick laughed bitterly in response.

"What happened to us invading your forest?" he asked. Bane did not seem to take offence, however.

"You stayed to help us, and you paid the price," he explained, before repeating, "Is there anything I can do?"

Frederick pursed his lips and exhaled deeply.

"The Ritual of Draconis," he said, haltingly. "I cannot move them..."

For the first time, Harry saw what was causing the consternation, and his heart hammered against his chest at the sight. All the tribespeople who had stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Frederick during the face-off with the centaurs, and then with the giants; they all were dead. Old men and women of all ages lay strewn across the forest floor. Rustling in the leaves distracted Harry from the horrible sight for a moment, but he soon recognised the emaciated bodies and bat-like wings of thestrals, who had clearly been attracted by the stench of blood.

"Go; be gone!" Frederick hissed, hitting one of the thestrals that had begun to lap at the wounds of a middle-aged woman with his mace. The thestral whimpered in pain, before galloping away a short distance. Once it was out of Frederick's reach, it began to lap up the blood of the deceased again.

"Merlin's beard!" Hagrid exclaimed in a whisper as he looked at the destruction. Frederick was already lighting a big funeral pyre in the middle of the clearing, his hands trembling as he cast various immolation spells on a nearby fallen tree.

Suddenly, Harry heard rustling again, and a stomping of hooves. He guessed, correctly, that more thestrals had arrived.

"Damnable creatures," Frederick bellowed, as the new arrivals began to sniff around the bodies. However, Harry could also hear a noise rather different to the flapping of thestral wings, or the burning of a tree log. Although he strained to hear it, Harry was certain he could hear sobbing.

"Hagrid, are you oka..." The words died in Harry's throat as he saw an ashen-faced Hagrid jerk his thumb towards the herd of thestrals. Harry looked in his direction, and saw that one of the thestrals was carrying a woman. A black outdoor cloak was wrapped around her thin shoulders; apart from that, she appeared to be dressed in white. Harry wondered about her attire- he assumed that nobody coming into the Forbidden forest would want to attract attention to themselves in such a way- then he got a glimpse of blue eyes peering beneath the cloak, and with a shudder, he realised it was Ameline. Her red dress signified that she was still in mourning for Angela. Frederick ran up to her, and practically lifted her off the thestral and into his arms.

"Juanita, thank Merlin! I thought I'd lost you, too," he whispered into her reddish-brown hair as she wept uncontrollably.

"Armel," she cried repeatedly, as he put her on her feet and embraced her tightly.

"It is alright," he soothed. "We shall be alright..."

Harry glanced down at Ameline's red dress, and suddenly noticed, to his horror, that it wasn't red at all. In fact, it was white; only drenched in what had to be blood. There was simply no other way she could have obtained such a stain. Her hands were also smeared with sticky red gore, followed by her face, when she wiped her tear-stained eyes in a subconscious manner.

"We should get her to Madam Pomfrey," Harry said to Hagrid, who shook his head slowly.

"There's no need," he replied, quietly.

"Of course there is," Harry retorted. "Look at her! She's bleeding..."

"She's not bleedin', Harry," Hagrid replied, swiftly, before pressing his large hand to Harry's back and guiding him away.

"Let's jus' get yer back ter yer common room, yeah?" he encouraged, walking both Harry and Fang away from the scene.

"What's going on?" Harry asked.

"Best leave tribal business ter tribes, Harry," Hagrid whispered in reply, although his expression was very wary indeed. Harry turned his head to chance a quick look upon the situation, and saw Frederick walk away, carrying Ameline in his arms. He also noticed an ornate knife dangling from a leather strap tied around Ameline's waist. A knife that looked almost as blood soaked as Ameline herself.