The Man of the Moment

Author's Notes: Phew! A combination of general business and my beta-reader's exams has meant getting these chapters uploaded has been taking a while. Sorry about that, but I think it's a little more important that Rose does well in her exams! Anyway, thanks to my busy Beta-Reader Rose Black for her beta-ing goodness. Thank you for everyone who has been so patient with this.

Chapter Thirty-Two: I Know Jack

Harry didn't know how long he sat on his bed in the boys' dormitory. In fact, it wasn't until Ron and Hermione came rushing in, asking him where he had been and whether he was hungry, that he even realised any significant amount of time had passed.

"Harry, are you alright?" Hermione asked, tentatively. Ron frowned.

"What's happened?" he asked.

"Nothing," Harry lied. Ron didn't look fooled, not even momentarily.

"Yeah, 'course not. That's why you're sat there looking as though you've been hit with the Body Bind Curse," he replied. Hermione sat down next to Harry, and put her arms around him.

"You know you can talk to us, right?" she offered, soothingly. Harry shrugged.

"Yeah, I know," he replied, vaguely.

"But you don't have to, if you don't want to, mate," Ron added, and Hermione nodded in agreement.

"I know. Thanks," Harry replied, in a detached manner. He was grateful for his friends' concern, but he simply couldn't bring himself to talk about what he had witnessed. Somehow, it made everything so horribly real- whether Neville had killed Bellatrix, or whether he had been an instrument manipulated by others, it boiled down to the same thing- Harry knew that, when it came down to it, he would have to do the same thing. What's more, he wasn't sure if he could do it.

These thoughts were soon followed by the realisation that Ron was staring, for some unknown reason, at Harry's lap.

"What's that?" he enquired, pointing at the small wooden box Harry was holding, which went a good way to explaining why his gaze had been fixed on Harry's knees. He looked down, and saw, with a brief feeling of bewilderment, said object; although he couldn't honestly remember having picked it up from Snape's office.

"Oh, it's Persephone's," he replied, unwilling to go any further into an explanation. To do so would mean talking about Frederick's demise, which, in turn, would open the floodgates to the other unmentionable incidents that had followed.

Suddenly, the dormitory door opened, and in stumbled Neville, looking deeply unnerved, and somewhat startled at his sudden audience.

"Hi Neville... Merlin, what's up with you?" Ron asked, clearly surprised by Neville's demeanour. Neville's eyes widened.

"Nothing!" he protested, quickly and violently. Hermione eyed him warily, before tugging gently at Ron's arm.

"Goodness, Ron, have you seen the time!" she exclaimed. "It's almost half-way through dinner! Come on, we'd better go... We'll save you two a seat," she added, and Harry was grateful for her immediate, if rather obvious, pretext. He knew that if he wanted to get to the bottom of what happened, he needed to talk to Neville alone.

"Are you okay?" Harry tentatively asked, once Ron and Hermione had departed. Neville slowly turned his head to look at Harry, and his expression was one of mild disdain.

"What do you think?" he replied, darkly, but did not elaborate on the situation. Harry fell silent and moved from where he was sitting, and instead sat down next to Neville- close enough that he would recognise his presence, but not so close as to invade his personal space.

"Look," Harry began, "Bellatrix deserved what she got. I know it's harsh you happened to get in the way, but it wasn't your fault..."

"Yes it was," Neville replied, hoarsely. "I killed her."

"In self-defence," Harry argued. "I heard Persephone say..."

"She was covering for me," he replied. "I killed her, Harry."

Harry tried to cough away a dry throat.

"How?" he asked, eventually. Neville looked at him.

"I used the Killing Curse," he replied. "I used the Killing Curse, and she just... well, she dropped down dead. Trust me, there's no way you can do that by accident. Or in self-defence," he added, darkly.

Harry didn't know what to say. Of all the possibilities he had considered, the chance that Neville had deliberately killed her in cold blood hadn't crossed his mind- at least, not long enough for him to form an opinion on how capable Neville was of the act. Yet, here Neville was, stunned beyond all reasoning, calmly explaining that it was precisely the action he had taken.

"I can't believe I did it, Harry," Neville replied, quietly. Harry nodded. Personally, he felt he couldn't blame Neville for his actions. Bellatrix Black had done such a terrible thing to Neville's parents- what was it Moody had said? "Better dead than what they did to the Longbottoms." He had been positively humane in comparison. However, the penalty for using the Killing Curse still stood at lifetime imprisonment in Azkaban- Arthur Weasley had remained resolute on this.

"But, she was threatening you," Harry reasoned. Neville shrugged.

"But she didn't actually try anything..." Neville trailed off, as though distracted by the image he was beginning to verbally create. "Please don't tell anyone, Harry," he pleaded. "I feel sick enough as it is."

"I won't," Harry promised. Neville gave him a small smile in thanks, but it was a smile that didn't reach his eyes. They were as scared and shocked as they had been the moment Harry had laid eyes on him in Snape's office, with Persephone cradling him as though he might shatter at any moment.

"What are you going to do?" Harry asked, after what seemed like an age. Neville looked at the floor, and began to fiddle with the frayed edge of his robe sleeve.

"Professor Beauchamp burned my wand- she used some kind of spell, I didn't hear what it was. Apparently it means the Magical Murder Department won't be able to trace what spells I used. I've got to go with her to get a new one tonight. She and Snape told them it was in self-defence, and that she was going to do what she did to my parents. The woman from the Magical Murder Department looked at me really sympathetically, and told me that I did the right thing." He shuddered involuntarily, and said no more.

"Well, maybe you did," Harry suggested. "I mean, what if she had carried out her threat? If you hadn't done it, she'd have done it to you."

Neville snorted.

"Yeah, of course, Harry. She was duelling with Professor Snape. She had her back to me. I know Snape's a git of the worst kind, but that's exactly why he would have hit her in the back, given the chance." His breathing became shallower, and quicker. "I wasn't in danger. What's more, I knew it!" he replied, hotly. "I wanted to kill her, and I took my chance! That isn't self-defence, that's murder!"

Harry didn't reply; he felt that any response might upset Neville further. So, he sat where he was, and continued to watch Neville pull at the frayed thread of his robe sleeves. The thread had formed a small pool of black cotton in his lap before his picked it up and began to roll it into a ball.

"Snape talked to me, after it all happened," he pointed out, in little more than a whisper.

"Snape? Why?" Harry asked, with immense curiosity. It wasn't like Snape to volunteer spending any more time near his students than he had to.

"He asked Beauchamp to leave, as well," he added. "Said what he had to say was for my ears only. She looked really furious with him, but she left anyway."

"I'll bet. She was probably suspicious of what he was going to say to you," Harry remarked, caustically. Neville shrugged.

"He talked for ages. I don't think I've ever heard him talk for so long, not even in Potions class, when I took it," he said, in the hushed tones he had used ever since he had returned to their dormitory.

"What did he talk about?" Harry asked, his original suspicion having left him somewhat, and fascination replacing it. Neville continued to look at his robe sleeve, rendered even more frayed from his unconscious picking at it.

"He sort of sat me down," Neville explained, in a bewildered manner. "Then, he sat down too. He put the fire on, which seemed odd- it's the middle of summer. To be honest, though, I was sort of grateful- I felt really cold. He stared at me for a bit, and then he started going on about how very few people understand about death; really understand it. He reckoned you can only truly appreciate it if you've experienced it. I asked if he meant losing your parents, like you had." He looked up at Harry as he said this, but his gaze swiftly returned to his frayed sleeve. "Snape shook his head. Said it didn't matter if you'd lost someone- that just made you angry and self-righteous. He reckoned that if you'd experienced death, it was something much different. If you had killed someone- if your actions had directly resulted in their death, you'd feel sick about it, like it was the most repugnant thing in the world. The difference is when you actively sought out their death. He said there was a power in that action that overrides every other thought. You kind of hate yourself for what you've done, but you know you can do it; probably do it with ease next time around. There's a power in knowing that you can control someone's life to such a degree; blot it out in the time it take to draw breath. There's strength in being aware that, if you're faced with that same decision, you know you could do it again, more easily than you did it the first time around." Neville sighed. "That's what he said to me, anyway. He also said I'd better get used to it, fast."

Harry stared aghast at Neville.

"That's terrible!" he postulated. "How could that horrible git say such things to you? After everything that had happened- I'd bet he'd want you to think..."

"He's right, Harry," Neville replied, simply and sharply, and Harry was taken aback by his statement.

"What?" he asked, feeling very confused indeed. Neville sighed.

"He's right. Completely and utterly right. That's why it feels so sick," he explained. "Once you know you're capable of something like this... I can't imagine there's anything worse; I mean, to really understand what it means."

"What it means?" Harry enquired, carefully. Neville nodded, although he didn't look at Harry.

"What it means to know, to feel, that a blood-thirsty beast lurks in your veins," he replied. "To know that you have killed, and that you could do it again, and probably not care..."

"I can think of something worse," Harry pointed out. "Being killed yourself. That's got to feel worse than killing someone to stop it from happening..."

"No, it can't," Neville interrupted. "Snape says I've got to live with it- there's nothing I can do to change it, so I might as well carry on with my life, and be grateful I wasn't caught." This time, Neville looked straight at Harry, as though he could offer an answer to all of his concerns. "How can I just carry on, as if nothing has happened? I killed someone today!"

Personally, Harry thought it to be the soundest thing Snape had said to Neville throughout the entire conversation. However, the whole incident was causing something to niggle nastily in Harry's brain. If this was what happened to you when you took a life, the sick feeling of disgust and power in equal measure that Neville talked of, how in Merlin's name could Harry be expected to do walk up to Voldemort and kill him? Even if by some fortune of providence he wasn't killed in a horrible, drawn out way himself, what then? End up feeling like Neville? Perhaps Snape did have a point; was it merely the lesser of two evils, after all?

Suddenly, their collective thoughts were shaken by an odd tapping noise. Harry got up and started towards the door, causing the wooden chest to fall out of his lap and onto the floor; but the door to the dormitory soon opened of its own volition. At least, that's what Harry thought, until he saw a man was standing in the doorway. He had sandy hair flecked with grey; parted and slicked back severely, with what looked to Harry like the Brylcreem stuff Uncle Vernon had a tendency to plaster his hair down with. His face was tanned and a little freckly, with a benign expression that appeared etched into every feature, except for his light blue eyes. They seemed tainted with perpetual paranoia; as though he were constantly expecting someone to try and deceive him at any moment. He entered the room and pulled out his wand, seemingly oblivious to Harry and Neville's presence. However, he soon turned and fixed Harry with a piercing stare, which caused Harry to unconsciously feel in his robe pocket for his wand. Not that he really needed it anymore, but he still felt more comfortable carrying it on his person. He knew that even Persephone still carried hers, and she'd been practising wandless magic a lot longer than he.

The gentleman arched his shoulders back, drawing himself up to his full height- Harry put him as being a smidgen taller than Lupin- and glanced between both Harry and Neville momentarily.

"Nothing for you to worry about, boys," he said, in a clipped accent. "Just a routine check!"

The man then began to move around the room, tapping against the walls with his wand, and pressing his ear to each, as though listening for something. After a few moments of this, he seemed satisfied.

"Ah ha- all in order," he explained, before walking out and shutting the door behind him.

Neville looked at Harry in amazement; all worries momentarily forgotten in his apparent curiosity.

"Who in Merlin's name was that?" he asked. Harry shrugged his shoulders.

"I haven't got a clue," he replied, stunned by the visitor's random behaviour and actions. "Perhaps we should report him to McGonagall or something?" Harry suggested, before thinking better of it. "Actually, she'd know, wouldn't she? It isn't like he's attempting to conceal his actions... Still, you can't be too careful- he could be anybody..."

Neville shrugged.

"Or, you could just give me your wand and point me at him," he replied, harshly. "I'd no doubt get rid of him."

"Neville, don't think like that," Harry urged. "As much as I hate to admit it, Snape's got a point. You can't let this get to you. Okay, it was a bad thing that happened, but I remember Alex saying something."

"What?" Neville asked.

"That we mustn't forget that this whole situation, everything we find ourselves facing throughout this war; it's all Voldemort's doing. We can't let him win. For me, that means, somehow, I've got to fight him, and win. For you, it means you can't put your life on hold," Harry explained, feeling secretly proud of his little speech. Neville brightened a little at this- not so much that you couldn't tell he had gone though a truly horrifying experience, but enough to know that he was still able to feel something other than numb shock. He just as quickly looked deeply miserable again.

"I can't believe you've got to do it alone," he said, inexplicably. "You know I'll help you, don't you? Anything you need, I'll do it," he added, firmly. Harry smiled involuntarily at Neville's brand of resolute kindness.

"Right now, I need you to feel better," he replied.

Neville smiled in a forced fashion- the way people smile when they want you to believe that they will be fine, even when they are sure they won't be. Harry knew all about this kind of smile- he used it a lot around Ron and Hermione.

"I suppose it kind of explains why Snape's such a git, though," Neville commented. "If he feels like this all the time."

Harry forced himself to laugh.

"Oh come on, Neville, you aren't going to stop washing your hair and developing a sneer, are you?" he joked. Neville managed to smile.

"I mean, he's killed people. He must have. There's no way he could have talked like that, otherwise," he explained. Harry sat back down, and nodded.

"Yeah, I think he has," he replied. "I don't know anything about it, though. Persephone does, he told her last year."

"That must be weird," Neville commented. "To be working for some organisation determined to wipe out Pureblood prejudice by any means possible, only to find out your own dad is- was- a Death Eater."

Harry exhaled loudly.

"Believe me, I reckon that's the least of Persephone's worries," he replied. Neville looked curious.

"What do you mean?" he asked. Harry sighed.

"Let's just say things are a little complicated between Snape and Persephone," he replied, lacking the energy to go into any detail. Neville nodded.

"I can imagine," he commented, before looking down at the floor again. This time, though, he was not staring in abashment; something had grabbed his attention.

"What's that?" he asked, pointing at the small wooden chest Harry had been holding in his lap, until he had got up to investigate the strange man that had tapped the walls of their dormitory with his wand. It had come unlocked, most likely due to it landing on the stone floor from the height of Harry's lap.

"Frederick gave it me, to pass onto Persephone," he replied, picking up the now open chest. Neville looked bewildered.

"Who?" he enquired. "Who's Frederick, I mean?" he added.

"Frederick Snape. He's one of Snape and Persephone's relatives," he explained. Neville still looked confused.

"But if he's the bloke I'm thinking of, the one we saw set fire to himself earlier," Neville shuddered a little on saying this- "then, didn't he tell you to pass that thing onto Proserpine?"

Harry nodded.

"Proserpine, Persephone- they're one and the same," he explained, as he examined the chest more closely. Neville raised his eyebrows in surprise; apparently this one single admission explained much to him.

"Wow, Snape's a Romany? I had no idea- although, I should have guessed from Dumbledore's funeral. Neither him nor Beauchamp were wearing usual mourning robes," he commented, mostly to himself, for Harry was too engrossed in the chest. It contained an envelope, which Harry considered trying to open with a Steaming charm, until he realised that firstly, Frederick would have undoubtedly place a counter-charm on the envelope to prevent such a thing happening, or severely harming anyone who tried. Secondly, there was an imposing wax seal with a crest that Harry assumed to be that of the Snape tribe seared into it, also making any tampering somewhat obvious. Thirdly, and most important to Harry, was the fact that Persephone would no doubt try to skin him alive for noseying into her private correspondence. Strangely enough, the only other object in the chest was a large cuboid lump of grey metal, almost exactly the same size as the chest, as though the latter object had been made specifically to hold it.

Neville was peering at the open chest with an expression that conveyed almost the same amount of curiosity that Harry was feeling.

"What a weird thing to leave someone," he commented. Harry nodded in agreement, although he couldn't help but wonder if Frederick had ulterior motives for this gift- a gift that technically contravened all their tribal laws. It must be important if he felt it worth the risk of negating the usual act of burning all the earthly possessions of the deceased.

Interestingly for Harry, he found a lot of his niggling questions were answered just a few hours later, when Ron and Hermione insisted he came with them to McGonagall's office. Harry was reluctant- for a start, it meant leaving Neville, who didn't seem much better emotionally than he had when he had first confessed to Harry what had really happened between himself, Bellatrix and his wand.

"Neville, aren't you coming? This concerns you, too," Hermione had chided, somewhat crossly. Neville shrugged.

"You can give me the gist of it later," he said, rather firmly. To Hermione's credit, she didn't try to force the issue, although she looked somewhat suspicious as to his behaviour. She also tried to wheedle an explanation out of Harry, until Ron intervened.

"Leave it, Hermione, he looks really bothered," he said. "I dunno what's wrong with him, and we'd best leave it that way."

"What's happened to you two?" Harry enquired, as they walked down the nearest available staircase towards McGonagall's office. "It's like you've melded personalities."

"We haven't!" Hermione exclaimed.

"We're the same as we've always been!" Ron protested, a little too fervently. Harry couldn't help but smile, although he said nothing in reply. He had noticed the two of them grow steadily closer over the past weeks, until the blurry line between being friends and something a lot more intense had been well and truly crossed. Not that either of them would dare to admit it, so Harry decided to save his breath and not probe for a confession. In a way, he sometimes felt a little excluded- their relationship was obviously not an aspect of their friendship that he could ever be involved in- but at the same time, it gave him a little breathing space to sort out his own feelings about his role as Voldemort's only possible vanquisher without their comfort or appraisals. It also gave him the opportunity to spend time with Neville, someone who seemed to feel his pain over the whole prophecy issue more acutely than anyone.

Once they reached McGonagall's office, however, Harry, Ron and Hermione found themselves the invited guests of a rather sombre party. McGonagall, Alex and Persephone were sitting on straight-backed chairs, arranged in a disparate circle, and each wearing the same grave expression. Hagrid was standing by McGonagall, looking upset. Kingsley and Moody were also standing up, each inspecting various portraits around the room, apparently trying to avoid the issue of making any comment on the situation. Moody was shuffling a little, as though he were itching to pace across the room. Emmeline and Hestia were also standing, although there were chairs enough for everyone. Lupin was the only male in the room seated; he kept shooting concerned glances at Persephone, who was refusing to heed his signals. They were all nursing cups of tea, though, although it seemed that everyone had eschewed the idea of actually drinking their beverages, instead choosing to merely watch them grow cold.

Lupin was the first to notice them; he got up and greeted them.

"Hello, Harry, Ron, Hermione; take a seat," he offered, gently. They obeyed him, and gingerly sat down next to each other on deceptively comfortable chairs.

"What's happened?" Hermione asked, in a timid manner. Lupin gave her a small smile of sympathy, but Moody beat him to the punch when it came to the explanation.

"We've found Augustine, that's what's happened, love," he replied, gruffly. "Or rather, what's left of him."

Harry heard Hermione gasp in horror beside him; he also saw, out of the corner of his eye, Ron grab her hand in a gesture of comfort. Harry did no such thing; in fact, he barely registered surprise. It had long occurred to him that, given the length of time Augustine had been missing in action for, it was only a matter of time before his demise was reported.

"If Voldemort wanted you dead, you were as good as," Harry remembered someone say, though he hadn't a clue as to who had uttered those particular words of wisdom.

"Ben discovered him over in Leatherhead, during a scout mission," Alex explained, in a dull tone of voice. "It looks as though he had been trying to warn Arthur about the attack on the Ministry, except he was prevented from passing on such information. The Brethren Forensics Department have been analysing his remains- they hypothesise that he must have been tortured; to what extent, they know not. Mind you, considering his vampiric state, with the use of physical implements, they could have caused him all manner of pain without actually killing him," she commented, her voice suddenly restricted with grief.

"Do you think he told of any sensitive information?" Kingsley asked, carefully. "I know this isn't the kind of questioning you want of such a fine character, but we need to clarify what Voldemort might now know at once..."

"He wouldn't have talked," Persephone interjected. "The more they tortured him, the more he would have dug his heels in, and refused. He was that kind of a guy."

Kingsley nodded. McGonagall looked up at Persephone.

"What about Legilimency? I know Veritaserum has no effect on the undead, but might it have been possible to read into his thoughts?"

Persephone shook her head languidly.

"Not a chance," she replied, evenly. "As the vampire's physical form casts no shadow or reflection, neither do his thoughts. If Voldemort had tried, he wouldn't have got very far." She exhaled loudly. "Which is why, I imagine, he's currently on a medical slab in our laboratories." Her voice was laced with bitterness.

Harry watched Lupin reach over and rest his hand on Persephone's shoulders in a gesture of comfort, only for Persephone to shrug him off.

"Well, I for one am beginning to get concerned," Moody interjected. "Augustine's intelligence was intercepted, and the Ministry and Azkaban were hit. Now, Voldemort seems to have made the former prison out of bounds to us, but he wasn't strong enough or clever enough to thwart the Ministry itself- Arthur may seem mild-mannered, but he's got a will of iron. It's damaged, but not lost to us." He scratched what remained of his nose, snorted, and continued. "The trouble is, I would imagine Voldemort is keen to gain new territory- so far, he hasn't done very well in this regard..."

"I don't think it's been a priority, Alastor," McGonagall pointed out. "Many of his actions seem to point towards gaining more magical power and tracking down Mr Potter."

Harry felt himself grow increasing uncomfortable under the scrutiny of the congregation, who had all turned to look at him almost simultaneously. Even Ron and Hermione were staring at him sympathetically, which made him feel even worse.

"So," Moody continued, "a lack of territorial gain, coupled with his desire to kill Potter here, leaves us with a definite idea as to the next item on his 'To Do' list."

"Hogwar's," Hagrid clarified. "Even tha' prophecy seems ter point ter it."

"Right," Alex said, standing up in a manner that would have complemented her position as an experienced general addressing her troops, were it not for the ungainliness of her protruding stomach. "The question of Hogwarts rears its ugly head again. We've got, what, around three weeks until that prophecy suggests the castle will be attacked?"

"Three weeks and two days, if our assumptions are accurate," Persephone corrected.

"Then we need to decide what to do, and fast," Alex stated. "Time is of the essence."

"Evacuate," Hagrid demanded. "There's no o'er choice ter make! Them kids'll be like lambs to ter slaugh'er!"

"The safety of the children here has to be paramount," McGonagall agreed. "If we can get them home before Voldemort makes his move, they'll be safer..."

"No!" Persephone boomed, in such a high volume that several members of the congregation jumped in shock. Moody rolled his eyes.

"Oh, not this again," he interjected. Hestia looked at Persephone with kindness in her eyes.

"Percy, what other option is there?" she reasoned. "You can't risk their lives!"

Persephone remained resolute.

"We send them all home," she explained. "Harry goes back to the Dursleys' and Voldemort goes after him..."

"He's protected there!" Ron protested, much to Harry's surprise. "Voldemort can't touch him!"

"Yes, Ron," Persephone retorted. "However, that won't stop a score of Death Eaters charging into the house, killing Vernon, Petunia and Pid... sorry, Dudley, and then dragging Harry off to their master!" She looked across at Harry. "No offence, I know your wandless magic has been coming on strong, but wandless magic against twenty-odd Death Eaters is a different Quidditch game altogether."

"What about putting Harry into hiding?" Kingsley suggested. "Perhaps magically..."

"Yeah, because that worked superbly last time," Persephone retorted.

The entire group looked horrified at her words; even Harry felt a twinge of disbelief- he knew full well that she was referring to his father, and their mother, but her callousness stunned him. Lupin looked pale.

"Persephone," he began, in warning tones. Persephone stood up at this.

"Look, Remus, I don't wish to offend, but almost all of my family have been wiped out, and a good proportion of my friends, so forgive me if I see little point in skirting the issue," she said, which seemed as close to an apology as anybody was likely to receive.

"Say we hide Harry elsewhere," she continued. "What happens to the rest of the school; his peers and friends? Voldemort hunts them down- face it, it wouldn't be difficult. All he'd have to do is knock on a few doors, and he'd find many either willing to disclose the information, or too scared to lie. If the school children know where Harry is, they either squeal or remain bravely silent whilst Voldemort tortures and kills them. If they don't know, Voldemort just tortures and kills them. And their families." She looked around the room. "So, anyone still up for the evacuation idea?"

Though the explanation had been delivered in the cruellest and fiercest manner imaginable, Persephone's point had, nevertheless, been made to great effect.

"So," Emmeline commented into the utter silence, "what next?"

Alex sighed.

"Figure out a plan, I suppose," she replied.

"Perhaps there isn't much point in trying to protect young Potter in all of this," Moody commented, sourly. "What if this is the time he and Voldemort have to fight? It's the last thing I want to happen, but we've got to consider it."

"But, what if it has nothing to do with Mr Potter?" McGonagall suggested. "The two prophecies may not be linked."

"Good point," Kingsley mused, "The climax of Voldemort's evil would make more sense if it referred to the slaughter of the entire next generation of witches and wizards in this country, as opposed to a battle with Harry here."

Persephone said nothing; instead she merely walked over to McGonagall's desk, opened a drawer and grabbed a small tin of green powder. She took a pinch, and threw it into the flames of the fireplace.

"Fletch?" she called, "Fletch, are you there?"

Harry peered into the flames, and saw in the green light, the image of a bandy-legged, ginger haired man hastily hiding something big and slimy under a large tablecloth in the kitchen of Number 12 Grimmauld Place. It took no further investigation to assume that Persephone was talking to Mudungus Fletcher.

"Merlin, Percy," he spluttered, "you makin' an 'abit ov scarin' me 'arf to death!"

"Where is he?" she demanded. Mudungus raised his palms in mild rebuke.

"'Ow are you, Mudungus! Good to see you, Mudungus,' Whatever 'appened to good, old-fashioned courtesy an' friendliness to your fellow man, eh?" he commented, lighting his rancid-smelling pipe in the process.

"It ran off in the same direction as my patience," she replied, tersely. Mudungus laughed.

"You ain't 'arf a poppet, you know that, don't you?" he teased. "I directed 'im to Hogwarts- not that he needed it. Seemed to know exactly where to go."

Persephone nodded.

"Thanks, Fletch," she replied, before ending the connection, and walking towards the exit of McGonagall's office.

"Where are you going?" McGonagall demanded. Persephone stopped and turned around.

"To bring you my plan," she replied, before exiting the office with a slam of the door.

Hermione looked suspicious.

"How... What's she up to?" she mused, to herself it seemed. Ron looked at Harry, and seemed as bewildered as he was. However, before either of them could hope to formulate even an inking as to Persephone's master plan, she had returned, with a vaguely familiar figure in tow. It appeared to Harry that the sandy-haired man with the clipped accent and air of eccentricity he had encountered whilst trying to comfort Neville, wasn't an intruder after all. He was here on Persephone's invitation.

"Who's that?" Ron whispered.

"I saw him in the boys' dormitory," Harry explained. "I don't know his name, though... Or much else about him, come to think of it."

"Well, to those of you who don't already know him," Persephone said, gesturing towards the sandy-haired man, "I'd like to introduce you to..."

She didn't get a chance to finish her introduction. Judging from the expression of fixed disbelief on Lupin, McGonagall and Alex's faces, he most certainly wasn't unknown to them.

"Jack?" McGonagall asked, removing her glasses and rubbing them with her handkerchief, before replacing them to her eyes and staring once again, as though she couldn't quite believe he was standing in front of her. The gentleman, to his credit, merely smiled genially and took her hand.

"Ah, Minerva- it's been so long," he said, pressing his lips to her hand. McGonagall remained stoic, as though she had been fully expecting such behaviour from him.

"I trust you are in good health?" she asked. The gentleman smiled.

"About as good as one can expect," he replied. "I'm not exactly the man I once was, you know."

Suddenly, the door flew open, and in rushed Snape, looking somewhat flushed, as though he had just run from London to Hogwarts. Given the situation with him and Persephone trying to cover up a few details in Neville's self-defence against Bellatrix, Harry came to the conclusion that he had possibly done just that.

"Did I miss any...?" Snape trailed off, and stopped still just in the doorway. It creaked shut behind him.

Harry looked from Lupin, back to Snape, and saw that they were both staring, slack jawed, at the old man McGonagall had apparently known well enough to refer to him merely as 'Jack'...

"Professor Drake?" they both exclaimed, in a somewhat astonished manner. Drake chuckled.

"Nice to see you too, boys," he replied, languidly.

"Professor?" Ron enquired. Hermione tutted.

"Yes, he taught Defence Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts during the seventies. He was the Head of Slytherin House before Professor Snape!" she whispered.

Suddenly, Harry remembered the references to a Professor Drake that had been in his mother's diary. He also remembered the Death Eaters mentioning some underhand scheme of Snape and Bellatrix's that involved selling pre-written essays to unwitting students, which just so happened to besmirch the Professor's good name.

Ron looked at Hermione with a mixture of surprise and appraisal.

"How do you know...?" He trailed off. "Let me guess, 'Hogwarts, A History'?"

"Well, it's certainly pleasing to know that students do occasionally choose to pick up a book now and then during their years here," Drake commented languidly, winking at Hermione as he did so. Harry, however, couldn't help but notice how uncomfortable both Snape and Lupin looked at his behaviour. Perhaps there was something in those wild accusations that had been insinuated in all of those essays? Or perhaps Lupin and Snape had merely believed them; gossip spread easily through Hogwarts as though it were truth- Harry had been on the receiving end of it more than once.

Alex looked warily at Drake, before glaring at Persephone.

"Beauchamp, what have you done?" she barked. Persephone shrugged.

"I've merely contacted an old friend of yours- a very useful one, I might add..."

"You don't know him!" she spat back. "You don't know what he's been through!"

Drake looked up at them both, and smiled politely.

"Excuse me, have we met? Only I don't recall your face," he said, as he offered out his hand towards Alex. She didn't take it, and continued to look at Persephone with abject fury in her expression.

"Well, go on," Persephone urged, "refresh his memory."

"You're going to be court martialled for this, Beauchamp, and no mistake," Alex warned.

"Fine," Persephone retorted obstinately, "let's just save it until after this particular battle is over, okay?"

Alex shook her head, and reluctantly pulled out a small, spherical object from her inside robe pocket. She also drew her wand, and proceeded to attach the spherical object to the tip of her wand. Harry heard a distinct clicking sound, followed by a whirring noise that cumulated in the sphere glowing an odd shade of orange. She placed the contraption close to Drake's left temple.

"I'm sorry, Jack," she replied, before whispering an incantation in such a low voice, Harry couldn't hear it.

Almost at once, Drake's whole face tensed with pain, and the glow of the sphere seemed to penetrate his skin, inflaming his whole had a violent shade of red. Then, just as quickly, the effect dissipated, leaving Drake standing exactly where he had been, only this time looking at Alex with an appearance of recognition.

"Alexandra, what's going on?" he demanded. Alex hissed through her teeth, and pointed towards Persephone.

"Ask her," she said coldly, "believe me; we're all waiting for an explanation."

Drake shook his head.

"Dear me. Alexandra, you really should have more control over your troops. If Persephone here has planned something, you should be the first to know," he chided, wagging his finger as though Alex was a wayward pupil of his. Alex seemed most ill amused by this.

"I'd challenge you to master over Miss Beauchamp," she retorted, coolly. "She isn't easily tamed."

Drake chuckled.

"Ah, like all the best women," he remarked, fondly. "In fact, rather like yourself when you were first recruited." He laughed once again. "Oh, Alexandra, I have never met a more wilful, disobedient and challenging subordinate. I knew you'd go far," he explained, with a smile, before looking her up and down critically.

"I don't mean to pry," he commented, "but I must ask, about that," he pointed at her protruding stomach- "and that," he then pointed at her unnatural blue eyes. Alex shrugged, and gestured towards her eyes.

"Hit with a curse that destroyed my eyes; got magical prosthetics." She gestured at her stomach. "Pregnant."

Drake nodded in understanding.

"Father?"

"Severus," she replied, nodding at Snape, who appeared somewhat loath to be involved in their discussion.

"Conceived in wedlock?"

"Just."

"Ah, splendid," Drake replied. "Timing's a bit off, but congratulations all the same. To think, if it hadn't been for Professor Beauchamp here, I'd simply never have known. I get the impression she's almost as difficult as you were," he said, with a fond chuckle. Alex tried and failed to suppress a sly smile.

"Believe me, I was an angel in comparison. You haven't known Persephone very long, I take it?" Alex replied. Drake smiled, and wagged his finger again.

"I've seen enough of her to know she's a woman after my own heart. Sly, deceitful and very, very clever- if only she'd have been educated at Hogwarts; I feel certain she would have entered my house... well, it isn't my house anymore, is it, Minerva?" he said in an enquiring tone that suggested he was curious as to whom Slytherin house was presently in the care of.

"Well," McGonagall began, but Snape interrupted her.

"Excuse me a moment, Headmistress," he said, his arms folded and his expression as sour as ever. "I'm sure I speak for a great number of people in this room when I ask what in Merlin's name is going on!"

Drake looked at Snape momentarily, before gesturing towards Alex.

"It's your show now, my dear," he replied. Alex sighed, and arched her back a little.

"Severus, this is Jack Drake- he was my predecessor. He ran the Brethren of Tyr before I did. Once he retired, I took over."

"Of course, I didn't remember any of this until Alexandra returned my memory," Drake added. "A clever little preservation technique for the Brethren- nobody who resigns or retires is permitted to retain any memory of their previous career position. Naturally, I could remember all other aspects of my life, but nothing pertaining to the Brethren of Tyr." He gave a self-amused smile at these words. "We have to take care of our employees," he continued. "We wouldn't want them to defect with all this information, after all."

"Besides, it's kind of useful being able to access the professional memories of all the previous members," Alex confessed. "You get too old for this game very quickly, and it's hard to rely on your own experience alone."

Both Lupin and Snape looked surprised by this admission, but it soon transpired that their astonishment had nothing to do with the revelation concerning the Brethren's retirement policy, which Harry personally thought was rather fascinating- and a quick glance across at Hermione suggested that he wasn't alone in thinking this.

"Well, who would have thought all the hearsay would turn out to be true?" Snape commented. "Pity the gossipmongers had such limited imaginations."

"Professor Drake wasn't just any old member of the Brethren of Tyr, after all," Lupin added.

Drake chuckled once more.

"You probably should have paid more attention to the rumours," he remarked. "Most have at least a vague basis in fact."

"What, including the one about you and that seventh year girl..." Lupin trailed off, and scratched his ear nervously. Drake, far from looking annoyed with Lupin, appeared curious.

"Which seventh year girl?" he enquired. Lupin looked thoughtful for a brief moment.

"Sandra Davidson, Gryffindor chaser," he replied. Drake laughed.

"Sandra? Goodness, no. I mean, she was a fine young girl, but not nearly smart enough for my tastes. Now, if you had mentioned Morgan McCloud in Ravenclaw, I'd have had to reply, 'no, more's the pity'. She was a delightful creature..."

"Stop it, Jack, this instant!" McGonagall ordered, sharply. "It was bad enough having to hear it when you worked here."

"I apologise," Drake replied, bowing slightly. "I never mean to offend. I do nothing but look."

"Yeah, you're just a dirty old man, right?" Persephone replied, with a smirk. Drake looked as though he wanted to appear annoyed at Persephone's words, but couldn't find it in him to do so. Instead, he laughed.

"I do love this woman," he said. "It didn't take her long to talk me around, believe me."

Kingsley stepped forward and arched an eyebrow in mild impatience.

"Talk her around to what?" he asked. Moody nodded.

"Yeah. Touching though your little reunion is, this is what we're all waiting on tenterhooks to hear," he added.

"Of course," Persephone replied, gesturing towards McGonagall's office desk. "Gather around everyone, and let us explain all."

"Explain all of what, Percy?" Hestia asked. Persephone smiled.

"The most ingenious tactical manoeuvre since Dumbledore's isolation of Grindelwald," she replied, as Drake unrolled a large map and stretched it across the table. Harry craned over and saw a map of the entire Hogwarts' grounds."

"We used Remus' map as a starting point," Persephone explained. Drake nodded.

"Yes, the 'Marauder's Map', wasn't it?" he asked. Lupin looked amazed.

"You knew?" he asked. Drake chuckled.

"Of course I knew," he replied. "It seemed churlish to deprive you of your little games, mind. Plus, to all intents and purposes, it was rather amateurish."

"Well, compared to this, anyway," Persephone boasted. "I can't believe some of the things Jack knew, and found, about Hogwarts."

The map was indeed expansive, but what interested Harry the most were the highlighted walkways, underground passages and other secret ways in, out and around the Hogwarts' castle. He recognised a couple of them- the passageway that led from behind the statue of that humpbacked witch with the one eye, for a start. He had used that too many times during his third year to forget about it. There were others, though, passageways through the Slytherin common room, and from underneath the Hufflepuff dormitories, that Harry had never seen before. More puzzling still, were the number of passageways marked on the map in a shimmering yellow. Harry peered closely at them, but he couldn't see any actual way of getting into any of them; either impenetrable walls stood in front of them, or they led off into nowhere in particular.

"Are those all secret passages?" he asked. Persephone grinned.

"Not yet," she replied enigmatically. Drake looked at him, and tapped at the map with his wand.

"But they could be," he explained. "You see, these are all areas of structural weakness, magically speaking. Now, I'm no surveyor, but I know a thing or two about subterfuge, especially when it involves building escape routes."

McGonagall stared at him, amazed.

"Do you mean to say that you plan to build an entire emergency evacuation facility?" she asked, her expression both incredulous and almost expectant. Drake raised an eyebrow at her.

"I do indeed. Well," he conceded, "it was Persephone's idea. But I didn't win the Cursebreaker of the Year award ten years running for nothing, you know. I know how to set them up, as well as knock them down."

"In other words, we can create a magically concealed route out of the castle and into a safe hold, which can be activated from anywhere in the castle. This way, when the inevitable happens, we simply cast a spell which opens up an entrance to this proposed route from wherever it might be needed, the students follow it along, and they pop up safely elsewhere- outside of the castle, and outside of Voldemort's clutches," Persephone explained proudly. "Pretty clever, no?"

The congregation seemed impressed, at least to Harry. However, they were not without their opinions.

"Well, it's certainly audacious," Alex commented, thoughtfully.

Hagrid nodded.

"But it just migh' work," he replied cheerfully.

Hestia nodded in agreement.

"Hey, it's the best plan we've come up with so far," she reasoned.

"It's the only plan we've come up with so far," Snape retorted.

"That isn't to say it's without its merits, though," Lupin said approvingly, as he looked up at Persephone. "You've clearly put a lot of thought into all of this."

"I hate to burst your bubble, here," Moody commented, "but what happens if Voldemort and all of his followers march onto Hogwarts?"

"Along with all their allies?" Emmeline added.

Ron and Hermione looked at each other momentarily. Then to Harry's amazement, Ron spoke up.

"Actually, we're sort of counting on that," he said, a little nervously. Hermione nodded in agreement, and both McGonagall and Alex looked deeply shocked.

"Mr Weasley, Miss Granger? You're in on this?" McGonagall asked. Persephone answered for them.

"They're been most helpful," she enthused. "Hermione's the one that came up with a way to produce an entry to this proposed secret escape route that operates from wherever it's cast- there'll be no need for an easily identified assembly point; simply point and cast!"

"Most ingenious," Drake agreed, clapping a firm hand on Hermione's shoulder, which seemed to concern Ron somewhat.

"And Ron here had been instrumental in helping us formulate our proposed offensive," Persephone explained. This time, Kingsley raised an eyebrow in suspicion.

"Offensive?" he enquired. Ron straightened his back, although Harry noticed he kept glancing over at Drake- who by now had removed his grip from Hermione's shoulder and was looking at Ron.

"Well, go on, boy," he urged.

Ron coughed nervously but was just about able to look up at the congregation, who were awaiting his explanation with a mixture of interest and scepticism.

"I was looking at one of Hermione's books," he explained. "She's got a bunch of Muggle books my dad was really interested in borrowing... Anyway, the point is, one of them had this story about a war between the Greeks and the Rogans..."

"Trojans," Hermione hissed under her breath. Ron looked at her.

"Yeah, them," he corrected airily. "The thing is, after years of fighting, the Greeks built this big wooden horse, which they left as a gift for the Trojans before sailing off into the horizon. The Trojans opened the gates and took it into their city. Then there was a bunch of stuff about parties and burning things and a woman with a face that could launch loads of ships- I got a bit bored at all that- but then, it turned out that the Greeks were hiding in the wooden horse. Once the Trojans were all bladdered, they jumped out and killed them all..." He trailed off, and scratched his nose. "Okay, it was a bit more complicated than that, but I started thinking, what if Hogwarts could be our Trojan horse? With all the students safely escaped wherever these new passageways will take them, couldn't we fill Hogwarts with loads of Aurors? And Brethren fighters? That way, Voldemort and all his followers would attack Hogwarts, thinking it would be full of kids and some old teachers... No offence, Professor," he added, looking at McGonagall, who appeared to be suppressing a smile.

"But instead, he'd face an army equal to his own," Moody said, clearly musing aloud.

Kingsley looked impressed.

"Well, it's certainly an impressive idea," he conceded. "Risky, but impressive."

"It could work," McGonagall said, in hushed tones. "It really could work!"

Alex nodded in agreement.

"I think I like it," she said, finally.

"I'm so glad," Persephone replied, sardonically. Alex narrowed her eyes.

"You're still getting court martialled after all this," Alex warned. Persephone didn't appear as concerned by this as Alex clearly thought she ought to.

"You do that," she replied.

"Well, I stand corrected," Lupin said, staring at Persephone in a way Harry couldn't figure out. "It has many merits. It's practically meritorious. Risky, but if anyone's no stranger to risk..." He swiftly fell silent, as though the sheer thought of finishing his words would be enough to make the earth open up and swallow him whole.

"What say you, Severus?" Alex asked, brightly. Snape's expression was sour, and somewhat pained.

"Give me a few moments," he requested, warningly. "I'm still getting used to the concept of Weasley, thinking."

Ron looked annoyed at this remark, but Persephone simply mouthed, "Just ignore him!" which seemed enough to stop Ron from retaliating.

Snape, however, retained the appearance of someone profoundly doubtful, although his lack of any savage rebuttal concerning the plan suggested he couldn't think of much to object over.

"There's something that is puzzling me, Persephone," he said, pacing the room a little, his arms folded and his index finger stroking his chin.

"What's that?" Persephone asked. Snape paused momentarily.

"How exactly are you going to fund all of this? Even if the labour is free, which I doubt," he said, pointedly looking at an unflappable Drake, "what about the materials? The armoury? Unless you're planning to run the Ministry into the ground, I can't envisage how it could be done."

"Ah, nothing to worry about there," Drake replied, breezily. "Persephone here has got all of that covered, and then some!" He chuckled, but nobody else in the room shared his amusement.

"Persephone?" Alex asked, in a suspicious tone. "Where did you get all these funds?"

"That's my business," she replied, uncomfortably. Alex was not deterred.

"It becomes my business when I know your exact wages for the past seven years. Now, I don't claim to be a mathematical genius, but I know those figures don't add up to the kind of money Jack is inferring you've amassed. Just, please don't tell me it's illegal," she pleaded. Persephone nodded.

"Alright, it's not illegal," she replied. Alex stared at her.

"That hasn't helped," she retorted.

Persephone sighed, and sat down on the nearest unoccupied chair.

"Okay, okay. I didn't really want to share this, but fine. You've forced my hand. The money, it's Black's."

Harry, having already known about this particular state of affairs, looked around at the rest of the crowd. Nobody seemed to understand what Persephone meant, for they all wore somewhat blank expressions.

"Excuse me?" Lupin managed to ask, when nobody else seemed to volunteer the question. Persephone ran a hand through her fringe, before resting both her hands on the nape of her neck; the fingers intertwined as though cushioning her head.

"Sirius Black. He left me a... substantial amount of money, shall we say?"

Lupin looked bewildered.

"What? Why?" he asked, sharply, before looking deeply ashamed. "I didn't mean that like it sounded. I just... Well, I can't see why he'd have named you in his will. You hardly knew each other."

Persephone nodded, and stood back up.

"I know," she replied. "I was as stunned as you are. The simple matter is, I cleared his name. That's why he left me the cash."

McGonagall pursed her lips.

"So, that's why you were so keen to go to all that trouble..." She trailed off, as though she wasn't quite sure of her hypothesis. Persephone, rather than appearing annoyed or offended by such an accusation of the worst kind of mercenary behaviour, simply shook her head.

"No- I did that because it was a matter of honour. I had no idea he had planned this. Judging by the letter he left me, that's exactly how he wanted it, too," she explained, calmly. Drake looked rather amused.

"Minerva, that's quite a barbed insinuation. I didn't know you had it in you," he teased. Persephone waved her hand dismissively.

"If I were Minerva," she replied. "I'd have asked it, too. Besides, as far as stunts I'd pull go, it isn't exactly out of the realms of possibility."

McGonagall managed a wry smile at this remark. Persephone continued.

"Anyway, to cut a long story short, I figured that if there's one thing Sirius Black would want to do with his cash, it would be to use it in aiding Voldemort's downfall. We won't want for finances in this venture, let's put it that way."

Snape continued to pace, though his expression had suddenly become a lot fiercer after Persephone's confession.

"You accepted money from Black!" he demanded.

Persephone nodded defiantly.

"Yeah," she replied. "What of it? Your issues are nothing to do with me."

Snape looked positively furious.

"What about your tribal heritage? Does that no longer mean anything to you, either?"

Persephone stood up indignantly.

"Excuse me!" she retorted. "We're talking an obscene amount of money here. Are you telling me I should refuse to acknowledge a dead man's last wishes on the grounds of an old superstition?"

"Yes, I am," he replied smoothly. Persephone glared at him.

"Would you?" she enquired, folding her arms in anticipation of Snape accepting defeat. Snape mirrored her body language.

"As a matter of fact, yes I would," he replied, staunchly. Persephone broke into a sardonic, sing-song of a laugh, which was swiftly followed up by her blowing a huge raspberry and replying, "Yeah, 'course you would. This has got nothing to do with tribal law, and everything to do with you and Black- and I'm not in the mood to deal with that right now."

"Armel would be spinning in his grave," Snape replied, crossly, apparently unable to argue Persephone's point.

"If there was enough of him left to do so, he possibly would," Persephone spat.

"Actually, I don't think he would," Harry found himself interrupting, his hand fingering the small wooden chest Frederick had asked him to pass onto Persephone.

"Potter, this has got nothing to do with..." Snape began to rant angrily, but Harry chose to ignore him. Instead, he handed the small chest to Persephone.

"Frederick asked me to give it you," he replied. "It fell open by mistake."

Snape snorted in a manner that suggested he thought Harry could have won the national championships for lying, had such a thing existed. Persephone merely accepted the box, and opened it up.

"I'm impressed, Harry," she commented. "There's a letter here, and it looks like you haven't attempted to open it."

Her wry smile showed Harry that the comment was tongue in cheek. He shrugged.

"I guessed you'd notice if I broke that seal," he explained.

Persephone grinned.

"Yeah, or Frederick might have used a curse that would blow your hands off," she added, as she broke open the seal and unfolded the letter. She looked momentarily thoughtful, before a dark, triumphant smile spread over her face.

"Well," she said to the gathered crowd. "It appears as though we've amassed another very useful piece for our arsenal."

"What is it?" Hestia enquired.

"You'll see," Persephone replied cagily. "Let's just say I think our plan should most certainly go ahead."

Although nobody actively agreed with her, nobody argued her proposed course of action, either. Harry, however, couldn't shake off Lupin's constant attention towards Persephone. If he hadn't known how strong and resourceful Persephone was, he'd have thought Lupin seemed extremely worried about her.

The very idea started to worry Harry, too. What could have happened to cause Lupin so much concern?

Right, without any further ado, I shall move onto last chapter's Q and A:

Lunafan: Thanks for your review... You know, I was re-editing this chapter, and I had to do a bit of re-reading, too. I guess I like humour in the worst of scenarios, I think it's something very human to try and laugh in the face of adversity. Yeah, you've got to feel sorry for Ron, haven't you?

Blackbirdie136: Yay! I made someone else stay up all night reading my fic! I love doing that... Anyway, thank you very much for your kind words. I have to say, though, there are so many quality writers' out here- I've barely had chance to read many of them. Questions, questions; I'm afraid the only one I can answer are the ones you've probably already worked out, where the answers are Bellatrix and yes.

Sapnish: Ooh, that sounds like quite a compliment. I do apologise over the delays with the chapters; it's even more frustrating when the chapters themselves are completed! But as I said above, I think it's important my beta-reader does well in her exams, so I probably won't be trying to beat her with a big stick to get these chapters back to me instead of doing any revision . Thanks for your review.

kitty_kxy: Thanks for your review. I think Neville hopes he could view what he's done in quite the same way...