The Man of the Moment

Hello all! Profuse apologies for the delay- a combination of computer problems and general business for both myself and my beta-reader have resulted in this instalment being uploaded much later than planned. If anybody is still reading this, I thank you for your patience and hope you continue to the thrilling conclusion in around five chapters' time. I will list this in the Completed Fics section as soon as that moment happens. Thanks once again to Rose Black for her beta-ing, and to everyone still reading. Enjoy...

Chapter Thirty-Three: Before the Battle

Just a few short weeks later, Harry was sitting with Ron and Hermione in Persephone's office, trying not to think about tomorrow, because that was when this prophecy that they were all pinning their hopes on was to come true.

Hermione was fretting about how her exams had gone.

"I hope I didn't mess up that last calculation in Arithmancy practical," she said, tapping her foot in a nervous manner. Ron, who was playing chess with Drake on the three-dimensional Wizard's chess board Harry had bought Persephone for her last birthday, looked up momentarily from his game.

"Don't think about it, Hermione," he ordered. "Besides, after tomorrow, it might not matter."

"Ron, that's a terrible thing to say!" Hermione chided. "You could at least try to think positively!"

"He's got a point, though," Persephone commented, dully. "This could all be for nought."

"You're as bad as your father," Drake commented, whilst ordering his chess pieces around the three dimensional chess board Harry had given Persephone for her last birthday. "We've collectively come up with an ingenious plan, if I do say so myself. Check!"

Ron frowned at the chessboard.

"Yeah, we'll see," he taunted, pointing at his chess pieces as though he were running through a battle plan.

"It'll be fine," Hermione said, in a falsely cheerful voice. "We've done everything we can, right?"

"Yep," Persephone replied, thumbing through a book she seemed to keep deliberately on her lap so that the cover couldn't be seen by anyone else in the room. "Or, at least, we will have done."

Ron looked up at her.

"What do you mean, 'We will have done?'" he asked, his voice suggesting deep suspicion on his part. Persephone smiled.

"You'll see," she replied, enigmatically.

"Great. But what have I done to help?" Harry thought to himself. It was all very well that everyone had come up with this wonderful plan, but he hadn't, and he was supposed to be the one who had to defeat Voldemort. If he was completely honest with himself, he really couldn't envisage how he could achieve this. Persephone often told him that it wasn't important, and what was important was ensuring he remained safe. After all, they didn't know exactly when Voldemort and Harry would face each other. She had pointed out that it could be years from now. None of this made Harry feel any better, though; he'd rather get it over and done with, even if he didn't know what in Merlin's name to do, than live with this ugly cloud hovering over him for years to come. He briefly wondered if Voldemort felt the same way.

Suddenly, Harry became acutely aware of someone watching him. He turned around instinctively to see who it was, only to find himself staring into Drake's blue eyes. Drake smiled genially, his skin crinkling a little. Harry looked away, and began to watch the flickering green flames in Persephone's fireplace dance into the air. The fireplace was lit purely for magical purposes, seeing as it was the middle of June, although Harry himself couldn't help but feel a little cold. He almost hoped the green fire could give out real heat.

"I really ought to go and grab those books you wanted, Persephone," Drake said, standing up. He glanced across at Harry, who was still staring into the fireplace.

"I don't suppose you'd give me a hand, would you, Harry?" he asked. Harry turned around.

"Sure," he replied, getting up. To tell the truth, he was relieved for the opportunity to get out of Persephone's office- all this planning and action that he hadn't been privy to was beginning to grate slightly.

They left the office, and Harry considered asking Drake where they were going, but Drake seemed to have other ideas for conversation.

"So, Harry," he said, with a smile. "How do you think your exams went?"

Harry shrugged.

"Okay, I suppose," he replied. Drake nodded, as they descended a staircase.

"I suppose that's about as optimistic as you're going to get, is it?" he enquired, in a manner that suggested his primary emotion was amusement. Harry didn't say anything- or, rather, Drake continued without leaving much of a gap in which Harry could respond.

"There's nothing wrong with being an eternal pessimist," he claimed. "You're never disappointed. In fact, more often than not, you're pleasantly surprised."

"I don't think I'm pessimistic," Harry replied. Drake smirked.

"Then, what are you?" he asked.

"I'm just cautious, I guess," Harry answered. Drake nodded in agreement.

"A wise way to be, I can assure you," he said. "'Tis a good thing to be cautious. I should probably have been more cautious during my time here."

"As a teacher or a pupil?" Harry asked. Drake laughed.

"You're inquisitive, aren't you?" he commented, jovially, before his face set into an altogether more grave expression. "Both, really. I was rash and impetuous as a youth, and little changed when I became a man," he explained. "It was hard running the Brethren and part of this school simultaneously- Persephone and Alex have the advantage of being women; multitasking comes easier to them than us, you know."

Harry couldn't help but smile at Drake's casual marginalisation of the sexes- he doubted Hermione would have been particularly impressed, given her fury at the marginalisation of House Elves.

"So," Harry found himself asking, as the descended yet another staircase, "you taught... you taught Malfoy, and the Lestranges?"

Drake sighed, and wiped his brow with the back of his hand. He nodded in reply.

"It was frustrating to deal with," he admitted. "I could keep going over what I did wrong for the rest of my years, and still never know. Maybe I got it all wrong, maybe I was too angry myself- I'm a Muggleborn, you see, and back in the days I spent at Hogwarts, one had to fight to overcome the prejudice that brought. Dumbledore, God rest his soul, was made Headmaster long after I finished my schooling..."

Harry felt both intrigued and uncomfortable by Drake's admission. He didn't like the melancholic tone of voice Drake was speaking in, yet he really wanted to hear more about his time teaching at Hogwarts.

"Did you teach my dad, then?" Harry asked. Drake grinned.

"James? Oh, yes- I had the dubious pleasure of tutoring him. I taught Defence... Hermione told you that already. He was a card," he said, laughing fondly. "You look so much like him..."

"Yeah, everyone says that," Harry replied. "Except I have my mother's eyes."

"You aren't much like him, though," Drake added. He must have seen Harry's crestfallen expression at this, for he continued. "That's a good thing, mind. Not to say he was a bad man; he wasn't. He was good and noble. Still, as a child, he was hardly the epitome of decency... Forgive me, I don't wish to insult the memory of a dead man, but I'm not a liar..."

"It's okay," Harry interrupted. "I know. I... I know a couple of the things that happened between him and Snape."

Drake nodded.

"Ah, Severus- you know, he's managed to both surprise me and turn out exactly as I expected. I'm not even sure how that's possible, but he's done it."

"I don't follow," Harry said. Drake stopped whilst they were on the third floor corridor, and sat down on the floor, gesturing for Harry to join him.

"You see, when you come to view children- adolescents, really- for such a long time, you begin to spot things. Those attributes inherent within the child, for example, that will reside in the man, as well. There are also those things that occur, things that shape one into the person they become. Severus didn't have the happiest of childhoods, or the happiest of schoolings; much like your good self. However, things happen- you run in with the wrong crowd, have a few major misdemeanours... He was bitter and contemptuous, something that grew more obvious the older he got. But, he had a heart, and a conscience, and I don't think many people gave him an opportunity to prove this. Dumbledore obviously did; in spades, too- I wouldn't have trusted him to spy for my division after everything that happened, I can tell you. But, you know, if someone had told me he'd do what he's doing now, I wouldn't have been surprised." He pulled out a thin black cigar from his inside robe pocket, and began to roll it between his fingers. "Sometimes, people don't know what they've got in them, until they have to prove it. I know a bit about what happened with James, Sirius, Peter and Remus- I bet James would have been the first to say if he found Severus in a fatal situation, he'd leave him there. But then, when the situation actually arose, he didn't. Same with Severus- he'd have probably thought, as a Death Eater, that he would have been the first to assume he would happily torture or kill Muggles and Muggleborns to further Voldemort's goal. But he didn't." Drake fished in his pockets for a match, and struck it against the rough skirting of the floor, using the flame to light his cigar. "Often, people think they can't help, think they know exactly what they're doing and how they play a part in the world. Most of the time, they're wrong. Severus betrayed his daughter and your mother when he became a Death Eater; his actions should have ensured his wife's death, too. But, look what happened- his daughter is a top spy, helping to thwart Voldemort, his wife is a leader of men against the very same course he once fought for. Your father fought tooth and nail against Voldemort and his Death Eaters, yet what was the most important thing he ever did to further the cause? Marry your mother."

"What are you getting at?" Harry asked, staring at the ash that Drake flicked from his cigar as he spoke.

"What I'm getting at, my dear boy, is neither of them could have suspected that by marrying, they would have had you as their only child; a child who, it has been predicted, is the only thing that stands between Voldemort. Let's face it, we both know what will happen if Voldemort wins, and it won't be good." He expelled a thin cloud of smoke, and coughed. "Not that you'll notice; if it all goes wrong, you'll be dead," he commented, bluntly.

Harry looked up at him, his eyes widening so much; he could feel a tension headache coming on.

"Thanks," he replied, dryly. Drake shrugged, and tapped at his cigar.

"At least you won't have to witness the aftermath," he reasoned. "But you know? I don't think it'll come to that."

Harry nodded.

"Yeah, I mean, what with this plan and everything..."

Drake stared at him.

"Plan? Well, yes, the plan helps. But it doesn't mean a thing if we can't defeat Voldemort. It just means we've delayed the inevitable. Seeing as you're the only one who can get rid of the bastard for good," he stated, letting his explanation hang for dramatic effect. Harry nodded.

"It's all down to me," he finished, seeing no point in going over a prophecy he could see Drake already knew about. Drake stretched himself out languidly, and rolled his cigar thoughtfully between his fingers.

"If it's any consolation, Potter, I think you're the best of any choice," he said. Harry could think of no response to this admission other than, "Why?"

Drake inhaled a little more smoke from his cigar, coughed, and continued.

"You've got something nobody I've met in this whole debacle has," he replied.

"What?" he asked. Drake grinned.

"You ask a lot of questions, don't you?" he commented, before continuing to answer Harry's question anyway. "Hope. You've got a lot of hope; not just in yourself, but in other people. You believe in them all in a way nobody else in the Order, or the Brethren, do. They're constantly picking fault, critiquing every manoeuvre. You don't. You believe things will work, because they have to. You're the catalyst for this whole operation. You're what everyone is fighting to protect. If it weren't for you, they'd have fallen long before Voldemort makes his move." He put out his cigar on the floor of the corridor, and stood up. "So, if you were wondering what possible good you could do in all this, when your friends are busy planning manoeuvres, your sister is sinking into her own personal hell, and everyone else is running about being brave and cunning, I hope I've answered your question. You're the glue that holds all of them together- and that's the most worthy of tasks anybody could be involved in."

Harry was so stunned by Drake's words, he could barely speak. He assumed Drake must have either been a damn good Occlumens, or he just really understood people, because he had got Harry's concerns down to a tee. Unfortunately, he had also added to them, as well.

"Her own personal hell?" he croaked. Drake patted Harry on the shoulder.

"You've got a lot of love for people," he said. "That's something I haven't seen in a long time. Maybe... maybe, in different circumstances, Persephone could have been like you- but she's growing hard. Too much horror in too short a time. She's getting like her old man; bitter and angry. Perhaps you can stop her from losing herself altogether." He stood up and grunted with the effort. "Perhaps you can't. One thing I do know is you won't lose yourself like that." He stubbed out the last fragments of his cigar. "You've got a good heart, boy," he said. "I'm sure when the time comes, you'll do the right thing."

"What is the right thing?" Harry asked. Drake smiled, in what appeared to be a sympathetic manner.

"Hey, if I knew that, I wouldn't be standing here admiring your sense of hope, would I?" he replied, with a small laugh. Harry smiled back, but inside, he felt a sudden weight crash through his stomach. Drake's words about Persephone made sense, when he thought about how worried Lupin seemed to be around her. There was definitely something of a change about her; not that he was surprised, given the fact that she had lost many family and friends in this last year. However, he could see what Drake meant- she had become hardened by the whole ordeal.

Drake seemed to consider their conversation officially over, for he grabbed Harry by the arm, and pulled him towards a door.

"In here," he hissed, "but do it quietly! Don't want the whole school to know."

Harry followed Drake- not that he had much choice in the matter- and found himself in the girls' bathroom. He briefly felt very concerned about the 'Defence against the Dark Arse' comments he had heard Malfoy and the other Death Eaters educated in Hogwarts refer to, until he realised, with a sense of shame at his own stupidity, that they were facing the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets.

"So," Harry said. "You didn't just drag me out here for a pep talk, then?"

Drake shook his head.

"I'm not, by my nature, an altruistic person," he replied. "I hear you speak Parseltongue."

"Why do you want to go down there?" Harry asked, side-stepping the question in that way he had witnessed Persephone do many times before. Drake peered at the sink, and stroked the taps thoughtfully.

"I just want to check there's nothing down there that Voldemort might find handy for tomorrow," he explained.

"Like a Basilisk?" Harry enquired. Drake looked at him.

"Like anything," he retorted. "Now, are you going to open this doorway up, or not?"

Harry sighed.

"Fine, if that's what you want," he replied. He stooped over the sink and looked at the only tap that wasn't dripping. He stared at the small engraving of the snake that adorned it, and thought hard about speaking in Parseltongue.

"Open up," he said.

Suddenly, the sink melted away out of sight, leaving just a single exposed pipe in the floor. Harry was surprised- he was sure it had taken him a lot more effort the last time he had tried to use Parseltongue when there wasn't an actual live snake in front on him.

Drake peered down at the pipe.

"Hmm," he said. "We might need... Hang on a moment, would you, Harry?"

"Erm, okay," Harry replied, as Drake paced over to one of the nearby cubicles. Harry heard some rusting, as though he were moving a few boxes, until a shrill shriek cut through the relative quiet.

"Oi! What are you doing in here?"

"Sorry, miss, my apologies," Drake said, smoothly, as Harry saw him back out of the cubicle, holding a hutch, and a rope ladder.

"Sorry," the voice hissed, and a grey figured floated out of the cubicle. "Sorry!" it screamed, again. This time, however, Harry recognised her. It was Moaning Myrtle, who appeared to be blushing with embarrassment.

"Do you make a habit of sneaking around girls toilets, you dirty old man!" she cried. Drake shook his head.

"My dear girl, do calm yourself!" he ordered, in his best authoritarian voice. "I used to teach in this very school. I'm here on important business, not to leer at you!"

"Mr Drake," Harry called. "Can we just get on with this?"

Moaning Myrtle blushed a furious shade of grey.

"Oh, hello, Harry," she said, coquettishly. "I haven't seen you in a while." She flicked back her pigtails, only for one of them to flip back in her face and knock her glasses from her nose, at which her cheeks practically burned black with embarrassment.

"He's been trying not to get killed," Drake replied, brusquely, before Harry had a chance to say anything. Harry was relieved at this, for he always found himself at a loss for what to say to Moaning Myrtle- he was certain that, removing Voldemort and Death Eaters from the equation, he was probably more scared of her than anyone else in the world. If he thought hard about this, it helped explain his lack of success with girls in general- given the fact that even the ghosts left him on edge.

Myrtle peered curiously at Drake.

"Are you Professor Drake?" she asked, her hands on her hips. "I've heard a lot about you."

"Really," Drake replied, unenthusiastically. Myrtle nodded.

"I'm here on important business, not to leer at you!" she mocked, doing a not-entirely-inaccurate copy of Drake's clipped tones. "I bet you had to use that one a lot, considering what I used to hear the girls talk about in here," she said, haughtily.

Drake looked at Harry questioningly.

"Why has this rumour come about?" he asked, although Harry thought Drake would have poor luck indeed if he thought Harry would be able to explain to him a rumour that was confined exclusively to the seventies.

"Do I look particularly lecherous?" he asked. Harry shrugged.

"I don't know what a letch looks like," he replied, although judging from what Harry had heard McGonagall and Persephone say, Drake certainly had lecherous tendencies. Drake studied him momentarily, before shrugging his shoulders.

"Right," he said, opening the hutch he had been carrying under his arm.

"Got a rope ladder," he said, passing the contraption to Harry. "Just use a standard binding spell- it'll hold up fine."

Harry did as he was told, and cast the spell. The rope ladder coiled gracefully down the pipe. Drake looked pleased, as he opened the hutch up further.

"Got my rooster." He pulled out an impressive looking rooster, which crowed proudly upon being stroked.

"Good boy," Drake said, before gently placing him under his arm. He patted his robe pockets.

"Got my wand- are you ready, Harry?" he asked. Harry pulled out his wand.

"Yep," he replied, grimly, as he watched Drake take a firm grip of his rooster.

"We got rid of the Basilisk," Harry explained, quietly. Drake nodded.

"What if there's more that one?" he enquired. Harry was forced to admit defeat.

"Good point," he conceded, before he made his way down the rope ladder, with Drake in pursuit. Considering the man was currently carrying a rooster under his arm, he was surprisingly quick to navigate his way along the ladder, and before Harry knew it, they were both at the bottom of a very dark tunnel.

"Well, this is all rather Freudian, isn't it?" Drake commented, cheerfully, before muttering, "Lumos." His wand lit up, and the tunnel was bathed in a bright blue light. Harry could see patches of white in the distance, which he assumed to be animal bones that had littered this very tunnel the last time he had been unfortunate enough to find himself here. At least this time he wasn't steeling himself to find Ginny...

"So, we just, follow, I suppose?" Drake said, before walking along the tunnel, trying to avoid the slippery, moss covered centre by walking to the side of the curved base. Harry followed, and found that keeping to the side of the tunnel left him surprisingly sure-footed.

"Keep to the side, boy," Drake said. "You won't fall that way."

"You spent a lot of time wandering through dark tunnels in the Brethren, I take it?" Harry asked. Drake laughed.

"Hardly," he replied. "I used to be in the National Guard as a lad. While the Wizarding community was worrying about Grindelwald, I was worrying about Hitler. If a few more wizards had paid attention to Muggle events like the Second World War, they might not have been so taken in by Voldemort the first time around, I'd wager."

"You didn't trust him, then?" Harry enquired, before realising what a stupid question he had just asked. Seeing as Drake was a Muggleborn, Voldemort would have been the last person he would have wanted taking over the wizarding world.

"What do you think, Harry?" Drake replied, with a harsh laugh.

Soon enough, they reached a pile of rubble, which prevented them from going any further. Well, it did until Drake blasted it away with a swish of his wand.

"Right, let's take a peek, shall we?" he said, before suddenly stopping in his tracks. He brandished his rooster as though it were a sword, and shielded Harry.

"Don't look, boy!" he roared, before breathing deeply once again.

"Oh, Mary, mother of Jesus! It's just a skin," he said, with a nervous laugh. "Forgive me, Harry. All these years... it makes one a little jumpy."

He tucked the rooster- which was so uninterested in the whole affair, it had taken to grooming its feathers- under his arm, and they carried on past the scattered rubble, until they found themselves facing a large wall, with an engraving of two intertwined snakes, whose eyes seemed to follow you around the tunnel.

"I take it this is the entrance?" Drake enquired. Harry merely nodded, trying to push all images of Ginny from his mind as he prepared himself to speak.

"Open," he said, in a voice that, as always with Parseltongue, sounded alien to his own ears. The wall cracked open, and the two sides of wall slid away out of view, leaving the chamber wide open.

The shadowy pillars loomed threateningly, and the serpents that were engraved on each one almost seemed to move in the flickering light of Drake's wand. At the front of the chamber, Harry could see the gargantuan statue of Salazar Slytherin, the very same one that had stood and watched as he had tried hopelessly to wake Ginny back when Harry was just twelve.

"Hmm, long pillars immense in their girth, many snakes... Yep, definitely very Freudian," Drake commented. "He had a very long beard, didn't he?" he added, gesturing up at the statue of Slytherin.

"He did, didn't he?" he agreed, nervously. He had realised in the short time of their acquaintance that Drake was, to put it politely, a little odd. Harry thought it best to indulge his idiosyncrasies- from what he had heard Alex imply about Drake's experiences, he had most likely earned the right to be eccentric now and then.

"Do you think it was a sign of wizarding prowess? Maybe he just demanded the sculptor made it that long," Drake mused, stroking his own clean-shaven chin.

Harry felt himself grow restless and uncomfortable staring up at that statue- all he could think about was Ginny's lifeless body crumpled on the floor. He shuddered involuntarily.

"Can we get this over with?" Harry asked. Drake snapped out of his reverie.

"Of course," he replied. "I'm going to need my wand, though- could you cast a little light for me, please?"

Harry nodded, and waved his right hand.

"Dextera; Lumos," he said, and a powerful beam of blue light settled around his fingertips and illuminated the whole chamber. Drake looked impressed, although he said nothing.

"What are you looking for?" Harry asked. Drake shrugged.

"Things," he replied. "I reckon the best way to find things is with magic. No good looking for things with your eyes when you don't know what they look like."

"Very true," Harry said, almost automatically. He felt as though he had got used to humouring Drake very quickly.

"Dextera; Occulto," Drake muttered, holding his wand out at a curious angle. Harry watched as Drake slowly teased at the yellow light that emanated from his wand into a large blanket of light, which seemed to envelope them both.

"Dextera; Permoveo!" Drake commanded, and the blanket of light sped away from them and floated over everything in the room, like a giant glowing cobweb, settling upon the pillars and statues.

"It highlights objects that seem incongruous with the rest of the room, such as anything hidden away that we might want to get our hands on before Voldemort," Drake explained, in a quiet whisper.

Harry watched as specks of red light began to pulsate in various areas of the chamber. Drake surveyed them all with the air of a connoisseur, and lowered his wand carefully as he did so.

"Well, we appear to have found a couple of things," he said, unnecessarily. "Where shall we go first?"

Harry looked around the room at the two clusters of red light. One cluster was flashing brightly beneath their feet, but the final cluster appeared to be settled in the statue of Salazar Slytherin himself. This concerned Harry, for the last thing he had ever seen come out of that statue was a huge great Basilisk. For the first time, he was grateful that Drake had brought that rooster with him into the chamber.

"I suppose we should start here," Harry replied, nervously. He couldn't help but think that opening up these concealed areas would be akin to opening up Pandora's Box, only without the mercy of any hope being left behind.

"Chin up, Harry," Drake said, as he knelt down and began to examine the floor beneath their feet. "This kind of procedure is perfectly safe, providing you know what you're doing..."

He slid his wand along the floor, and Harry became swiftly aware of a small crack line that appeared in the floor. On closer examination, it looked as though it were a small trapdoor. Drake tapped at the space between the cracks, and sure enough, the area of floor slid away, exposing what looked, to all intents and purposes, like a cubby-hole.

"Well, well, well," Drake mused. "What do we have here?"

Harry watched while Drake carefully pointed his wand at the darkness in the cubby-hole, and fired off a torrent of purple light. The floor beneath them vibrated suddenly, before the itself began to glow with purple light. Soon enough, the light flooded over the opening to the floor, washing up a small bottle as though it were the tide bringing in driftwood. With a puzzled look on his face, Drake picked up the bottle and peered at it closely. He put it to his ear and shook it a couple of times.

"Well, it's empty," he said aloud. "Or, rather, it doesn't contain liquid."

Drake whipped out his wand once more and waved it casually around the bottle, which was swiftly enclosed in what looked like a glass box. Another wave of his wand, and the stopper in the bottle began to lift off, before it clattered to the floor.

"Always better to open strange bottles under containment," he explained to Harry, as he tilted the bottle upside-down within the glass box. "One fellow I knew didn't do that once, and a stream of gaseous poison hit him and melted his entire face off, poor chap. It took weeks to restore him..." He trailed off as a small piece of rolled-up paper fell out of the bottle. He frowned as though it was liable to chew his own ear off at any moment.

"Could be enchanted," he explained, before tapping the parchment with his wand. It uncoiled slowly, whilst the tip of Drake's wand sped along it, causing the paper to spark green when the two objects touched. Eventually, Drake's wand sparked out the words 'Verified: OK'.

"Excellent," Drake commented, before pulling his wand out of the glass case hovering in the air, whereupon it disintegrated, leaving the bottle and the paper in freefall. Drake caught both effortlessly with his wand hand, having tucked his wand between his fingers like a twirling baton. He set down the bottle, and began to scan the open paper. He frowned at it.

"Well," he mused, "the age of the paper and the ink suggest to me that Salazar, not Voldemort, penned this."

"Anything else?" Harry asked, his curiosity now intrigued even further. Drake shrugged.

"Either it's a pertinent incantation of some sort, or Slytherin was the poetic type," he concluded, before handing the paper over to Harry.

"Care to take a look?" he offered. Harry nodded and took the paper from him. He looked at it, and saw what Drake was getting at. The paper appeared to contain a poem, handwritten in spidery calligraphy.

The essence of man, the essence of will,

the essence of all that makes one great;

all will pass through the beyond and still,

'till naught is left but the essence of hate.

The Veil will rip asunder all you hold dear,

from magic to love, and life eternal flame.

Heed this and take care of all your fears,

for 'tis easy to forget from whence you truly came.

A power stronger than wizarding man,

it cannot be used by the mere mortal being,

yet, 'tis spoken the savage know more of this plan,

but ne'er they divulge the means of their seeing.

Harry re-read the passages, but they proceeded to make even less sense than they had on his first reading. He looked up at Drake, hoping he might know something more, but judging by the look on his face, Harry was to be disappointed.

"Beats me, son," he said, nonchalantly. "I haven't got a clue. He doesn't appear to have left much..." He took the paper off Harry and tucked it into his inside robe pocket. "Perhaps Alexandra will know- she's always had a brain for that sort of thing. Whether it's her sex or her interest that leads her to such skills, I couldn't say," he remarked.

Harry looked across the room, and the glinting red flashes emanating from the furthest pillar caught his eye.

"Perhaps Salazar's statue might give us more information?" Harry suggested. Drake nodded grimly.

"It's possible," he replied. "We certainly won't know without looking at the old codger, will we?"

With those words, Drake hurried off towards the imposing stone statue, with Harry in hot pursuit. Although he was following Drake with a degree of conviction, Harry knew that, deep down, he didn't think this was going to be a very good idea. The very concept of breaking into a statue of Salazar Slytherin suggested to Harry that the only thing they would find was trouble. Having said that, all they had to show for their scavenging efforts so far was a single poem, and he didn't fancy attempting to call time on the whole mini-expedition when this glowing statue could very well hold something Voldemort badly needed.

Drake was now facing the statue of Salazar Slytherin, and, up close, the large area of glowing red light was easily detected as emanating from the robes of the statue. However, Drake's expression was grim, and he stood with one hand on his hips; the other stroking his chin thoughtfully.

"Hmm, now, this is a puzzler," he said, mostly to himself. "How are we going to get in?"

"Can't you just use that spell you just did to get that bottle?" Harry asked. "We don't need to actually go in, that way..."

Drake laughed.

"Those kinds of spells will work fine for something as small as that bottle," he replied. "Look at those red detection lights, Harry. Don't you think whatever is in there is going to be a damn sight larger than that bottle?" he enquired, somewhat sardonically. Harry had to agree, judging by the way Salazar Slytherin's robes were glowing as though he were a lit-up Father Christmas.

"There must be a way in," Drake said to himself, tapping his wand against his hand in what appeared to be a subconscious action.

"That Basilisk came out of this statue," Harry pointed out. "Through its mouth."

"Well then," Drake replied, "that makes it even more certain. If something came out of that statue, it must have got in somehow..." As he said this, Drake began to fiddle with his wand, as though running through the numerous spells he knew that might be of some use in this situation. Harry, being no curse-breaker, much less an expert like Drake, didn't really know what he could do to help. So, instead, he began to study the statue more closely, in case he happened to spot anything that could be of some help to Drake. Not that he really knew what he was looking for- the statue looked not only large and imposing, but also quite impenetrable. Harry carefully walked around the feet of the statue; feet that were almost as long as he was tall. He peered closely at any hint of a shadow, in case some kind of pathway or entrance was hidden there, but he could see nothing of the sort.

Then- and quite what made him do so, Harry had no idea- all of a sudden, he looked up. Right above his head, embedded in the back of the robes carved into the statue was a small, heart shaped emblem. Harry stood on his tiptoes to get a better view, but the writing within the heart was all in what appeared to be Latin, a language Harry never professed to know any more about than that used in casting spells. Nevertheless, he tried whispering the words into the emblem, but nothing happened.

Suddenly, he spotted something, which appeared to be a thin snake writhing around the heart shape carved into Salazar's statue. Feeling something close to triumphant, he concentrated hard on the snake, and tried repeating the exact same Latin words, but this time, in Parseltongue. He waited with baited breath, hoping for some sort of sign that something had happened, but to no avail. Frustrated, he exhaled loudly near the statue, and the action caused a small layer of dust to billow out into the stale air of the chamber. More importantly to Harry, though, was that the dust had been hiding one word. Geraldine.

His mind was cast back to last year, when he, Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Luna had been trying to find out about the Brethren of Tyr. That story, the one about forbidden love between a teacher and student back in the Sixteenth Century, which Hermione, Ginny and Luna seemed to adore so much. The teacher had been Salazar Slytherin himself. The student had been Geraldine Gryffindor. They had married...

Harry stared hard at the snake around the heart-shaped emblem once more, and whispered the word, "Geraldine," into the statue, trying his best to ignore the nasty, hissing noise that came out of his mouth, as though an alien had suddenly inhabited his body and decided to use it for speech. This time, something most certainly did happen. The entire statue began to shake violently, as though an extremely localised earthquake had hit it. Harry heard a deafening crack, which was quickly followed by Drake calling out, "Harry? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Harry shouted back, as the rumbling of the stone statue subsided. He walked over to where Drake was standing.

"Well, what did you do?" Drake asked, almost accusatorily. Harry looked at the front of the statue- it had fallen away, and left a huge gaping hole which, on closer inspection, appeared to lead to a flight of weathered stone stairs.

"I just said a few words," Harry replied. Drake looked at him, and smiled.

"Someone's beginning to learn the art of evasiveness," he replied, before brandishing his wand.

"Lumos," he muttered, and the wand tip glowed brightly. He said nothing to Harry as he made his way towards the stone staircase, and he hadn't needed to, for Harry was a mere two steps behind him.

The staircase wasn't very long- although it was very narrow and winding, and Harry stepped down twice as slowly as he would have done down any other staircase, simply because it seemed so precarious. Once they reached solid ground, the sight that greeted them left Harry speechless.

"What the..." Drake's words of disbelief died in his throat. They had reached a small room- or rather, what appeared to be a crypt. It was easy enough, Harry thought, to distinguish a crypt from a small room, for the former usually contained a coffin. In this instance, Salazar had not broken with tradition, although it was a very grand shrine to the dead. More curiously, it contained only one body.

"It's a grave," Harry said, unnecessarily. Almost as soon as the words were out of his mouth, he could feel Drake's eyes boring into him with a look of derision.

"Well, thank you for that, Harry," he replied. "I'd never have guessed otherwise."

Harry paid little attention to Drake's words- not because he was consciously ignoring him, but because he was engrossed in the elaborate coffin that stood before him, apparently untouched for centuries. It stood proud, white and almost shimmering- as though it were the only pure treasure in this whole den of dark magic, hatred and vengeance. He moved closer to the white coffin, and saw that it was decorated with lilies and roses- all white, and clearly enchanted so that they would never die. They snaked around the entire coffin, leaving green shiny trails of stems and thorns, which explained to Harry why the coffin had appeared to shimmer from a distance. On closer inspection, between the flowers and the stems that had grown around the coffin lid, Harry noticed that it was clear, as though it had been fashioned from glass. He considered touching it to make sure, but then he noticed a figure underneath the clear lid. It was definitely that of a woman, for the apparent height and features made that much clear. She had long blonde hair, slightly tinged with red, which was braided near the temples. Her eyes were closed, and she wore a black dress robe. Harry gently pushed aside some of the overgrown ivy from near the top of the coffin, in order to try and get a better look at her face. Upon doing this, he uncovered a small stone plaque, on which a few words had been inscribed.

Geraldine Gryffindor- How I shall always remember you

There was no flowery, romantic prose or poetry, no heartfelt outpourings of sorrow- just a few words that said everything about Slytherin's grief. Unwilling to intrude any further on this private shrine, Harry replaced the ivy as best he could and stepped away. He wondered momentarily how this woman, who had been buried here for almost a thousand years, could look so perfectly preserved. Then it dawned upon him that it was probably an enchantment of some sort- one that either preserved her body, or- more likely, given the inscription upon the coffin- affected the glass coffin lid, so one could only see the image of this lovely woman in her prime, and not how her remains might look today. Harry turned away from the coffin on thinking this; he wasn't ready to uncover the truth, and he doubted he ever would be.

Suddenly, a tap on the shoulder shocked him out of his thoughts.

"Here, Harry," Drake said, in a voice laced with far too much cheer, given the place they were currently standing.

"What is it?" Harry asked. Drake grabbed his shoulders, and turned Harry towards what had grabbed his attention; a small, but nevertheless distinct, doorway.

"Do you know where that leads?" Drake asked. Harry shook his head.

"No, I don't," he replied. Drake continued to beam, an expression that made him look quite mad.

"Well, I conjured a few assessment spells, and it definitely leads to where I thought it led," he explained. Harry looked at him in expectation of a more elaborate response. When none came, he replied, "Yeah, where's that?"

Drake looked up at the ceiling.

"The cemetery," he explained.

"The what?" Harry asked, his voice raising an octave with the words.

"The cemetery," Drake repeated. "You know, the one in Hogwarts. Right next to Hogsmeade."

This shocked Harry; why on earth would Hogwarts have a cemetery? Then he thought about his own experiences during the past six or seven years.

Drake must have noticed Harry's expression, for he elaborated on his explanation.

"I know that nowadays, children don't often drop down dead," Drake explained, "but they did a thousand years ago. We weren't much better off than Muggles were in the tenth century, health wise. The start of enforced bans upon certain dark magic spells and rituals that involved human and animal sacrifice reduced many of the traditional methods of treating illness. It took a couple of centuries before modern Healing as we know it today began to emerge. So, children died of diseases during school time. Sometimes, tragedies occurred like wars, and of course, Riddle's choice of pet back in the forties." Drake expression clouded with anger at these words. "Anyway, the staff had to put those children somewhere, didn't they? It's difficult to transport a body, you know."

Harry nodded in understanding. It made sense, really. If you've got a large number of people living in a small area, you are bound to have a few deaths. Anyway, there was the village of Hogsmeade, too. Perhaps they used it as well?

"Where exactly is this cemetery?" Harry asked.

"On the outskirts of the Hogwarts grounds; near the entrance to Hogsmeade," Drake answered. "Now then, young Harry," he said with another manic grin. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

Harry looked at the doorway, the crypt they were currently standing in, and the suggestion of the area in which that doorway led, and managed a smile. He very possibly was.

Just a few, short days later, Harry's exams were over, and he was sitting in the kitchen of Number 12 Grimmauld Place, watching Snape and Persephone empty the contents of a large leather bag onto the table, displaying over one hundred small, silver crosses to the gathered members of both the Order and the Brethren. Despite the edgy fear that gnawed at Harry's stomach when he considered the implications of this particular meeting- the finalisation of their plans to bluff one of the most powerful- and evil- wizards of all time in battle, he could make the link between the mass of silver crosses on this table and the slab of metal enclosed in a small chest that Frederick had entrusted him with before his untimely death.

Harry looked around the room, noting that all the Order and Brethren members he had ever met appeared to be in this one kitchen. Well, almost all. Drake was long gone- once his work with creating the new passageways through Hogwarts had been completed, Alex had returned him to a state of blissful ignorance concerning his work as one-time leader of the Brethren of Tyr, and taken him home, wherever that may be. Harry still wondered what horrors Drake had seen that had made Alex so furious at Persephone for forcing him to relive them once more, but he guessed he would probably never know.

Persephone didn't seem any happier, either. Drake's words about her anger and hatred had haunted Harry ever since the moment he had uttered them, and every passing day since seemed to just highlight to Harry how right Drake was. It wasn't as though she said anything; it was just the way she... well, the way she was, really. Harry watched as she gathered up the small crosses, complete with chains, and looked around the room, her eyes cold and unusually distant.

"So, you see, the crosses have two uses; as a simple item of faith- thanks to Gyaltsen- which will ward off vampires, and also as a werewolf repellent; given that the silver they were fashioned from was of tribal origin. All it takes to activate the properties of the Silver is a few incantations," she explained.

"But, they're only an item of faith if you believe them to be," Hermione interjected. "How will they work on everyone?"

Persephone smiled.

"Harry will hand them out," she replied. "Everyone here has faith in him."

Hermione appeared soothed by Persephone's explanation.

"How many do you have?" Kingsley asked. Persephone glanced at the pile of crosses.

"There's enough for all of us, the staff and the students of Hogwarts," Persephone replied. "All they need to do is wear them."

"I trust you haven't forgotten about Lupin and Sampson here," Moody countered. "It'll be a bit useless for them, won't it?"

Persephone folded her arms, and shook her head.

"Fear not, Alastor," she said. "I've looked into this one, and there appears to be a ritual that can be performed to render a werewolf immune to the effects of the Silver." She looked across at Sam, and at Lupin; both of whom looked somewhat uncomfortable.

"Should I be worried, Beau?" Sam asked, with a nervous snigger. Persephone looked at him, but the twinkle in her eyes Harry would have expected to see flashed at Benjamin was absent.

"Well, we don't know yet," she admitted. "I figured that now would be as good a time to find out as any."

McGonagall glanced up at them both, and flashed a wry smile.

"Are we to assume that this ritual is hardly the simplest of magical ceremonies?" she enquired, brightly. Persephone nodded.

"You're spot on, Minerva," she replied. "It's pretty complicated, but theoretically, it should work perfectly..." She trailed off as she reached into a nearby bag and pulled out a series of ominous-looking items; a pestle and mortar, a jar of linseed oil, some freshly picked wolfsbane, a few vials of unidentifiable substances that glowed strange colours, and finally, two feathers.

"Now, gentlemen," she said, addressing Lupin and Benjamin. "If you would be so kind as to remove your robes..."

Lupin and Benjamin looked at each other with a curious mix of fear and revulsion. Persephone seemed to notice this, for she smiled wickedly.

"Only from the waist up," she advised. "Believe me, this could be much worse. One of the rituals I found required complete nakedness from all parties, and those feathers were used far more invasively than we plan to."

Lupin swallowed involuntarily- Harry could almost smell his apprehension. However, neither Lupin nor Benjamin looked half as disgusted by the whole affair as Snape did.

"Who gets who?" he asked, eventually, his nostrils flaring in distaste. Persephone shrugged.

"I reckon we should draw lots," she said. "It seems fairest..."

Suddenly, Harry felt a sharp elbow nudge him in the ribs.

"Oi, what do they need lots for?" Ron whispered in his ear. Harry shrugged.

"I don't know," he replied. He heard Hermione tut from near Ron's side.

"Because, these are tribal rituals," she explained, in a voice clearly struggling to achieve the air of patience. "Tribal rituals need tribe members to perform them, and the only tribe members in this room are Snape and Persephone."

"Alright, keep your hair on," Ron hissed back, although he was considerably less vitriolic in his retort than usual. Harry understood perfectly their uneasiness, for it mirrored his own, though probably not to the same degree. However, it was safe to say that everybody currently in number 12 Grimmauld Place shared the same feelings of anxiety about what was to come tomorrow. Harry tried instead to concentrate on Snape and Persephone, in the hope that their performance would distract him somewhat from the cold, hard fact that they would all be fighting for their lives- and the lives of others- in a mere matter of hours.

"Well, I've got Remus," Persephone said, holding a rolled-out slip of paper aloft. Benjamin grinned.

"Ooh, looks like my lucky day, Severus," he said, in a cheeky manner. Snape's glare, which could have counteracted global warming single-handedly, caused Benjamin to drop his jokey demeanour almost immediately.

"Can we at least wear gloves?" Snape asked, and Harry thought he saw him shudder in distaste. Persephone shook her head.

"I'm afraid not," she replied. "I think it ruins the effect of having the ritual performed by a tribe member."

Benjamin laughed.

"Yeah, right- you just want to get your hands on Remus' unmentionables," he joked. Persephone smiled- though Harry noticed it didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Well, it's as good an excuse as any," she replied, winking at Lupin, who blushed a quite furious shade of red.

"Shall we just get this over and done with?" he suggested. "We could do with seeing if it works, after all."

"Yeah," Fred commented, "but it isn't like a werewolf will do much to you guys."

"No, except maybe rip their intestines out," George commented, dryly.

"I don't much fancy finding out what an angry vampire could do to me, either," Benjamin pointed out, whilst Persephone busied herself with pouring various ingredients into the pestle and mortar.

Soon enough, Snape and Persephone began the ritual. To Harry, it all made very little sense; there was a lot of humming and rubbing of ointments. Benjamin seemed to find the whole affair most amusing- he kept winking at Snape, who was most certainly not impressed by the situation he had been forced into. Lupin, by contrast, looked absolutely mortified, whilst Persephone looked as though she didn't care one way or the other. It didn't take long for Harry to understand that her apathy was the root cause of Lupin's discomfort. He saw Lupin try to ask her something, but he was quickly, and harshly, silenced.

"It must require a lot of concentration, to get a spell this complex to work," Hermione mused to herself, as though she were a particularly enthusiastic Medical student.

"Yeah, you took the words right out of my mouth," Ron replied, sarcastically, his face a picture of revulsion. He looked across at Harry, presumably for signs that he felt the same. Harry flashed him a grimace. It didn't take much effort- the bizarre sight induced the same kind of feelings for him, too.

"What worries me," he whispered, "is what they're going to do with those feathers."

Ron snorted with laughed, which he quickly smothered by covering his mouth with his hands and transferring the action into covering up a hacking cough.

Fortunately for Harry, Ron and both their stomachs, the feathers were merely being used as a method of anointment. Lupin seemed notably squeamish when Persephone dipped her feather in a mixture of wolfsbane and absinthe and proceeded to run it over his neck and shoulders. Harry couldn't help but smile- all these years, and he had never known that Lupin was ticklish. He wondered briefly what other things he didn't know about the people gathered in that kitchen that he may never get the chance to find out, but he pushed the thoughts out of his head. The last thing he needed to be thinking about was the worst-case scenario of getting killed in less than twelve hours time.

"Well," Persephone announced, placing her feather down on the kitchen table. "I guess we should see if it works." She picked up one of the silver crosses, and waved her hand over it, muttering some sort of incantation that Harry couldn't pick up. Almost instantaneously, every single cross that was made from that tribal silver glowed a brilliant white. Without so much as blinking, Persephone coolly thrust the cross in Lupin's face. Harry watched as Lupin flinched, before finally taking a deep breath and pulling himself face-to-face with the cross. Clearly, he hadn't forgotten his previous experience at the hands of Frederick and the Snape tribal silver.

"Well?" Snape asked, brusquely.

"I... I feel fine," Lupin replied. "I would say it has worked."

Benjamin leant over and picked up one of the crosses, prodding it with a curious expression on his face, as though he was dissecting a frog for the first time.

"I don't feel like vomiting- I'd say that was a roaring success," he said, happily. He then put the cross back down on the kitchen table.

"How long does it last, Beau?" he asked. Persephone pulled out a piece of parchment from her robe pocket, and scan-read it.

"Apparently it'll last, 'from the count of the First Day until the Seventh Night'. I'd estimate that as being a week," she replied.

Alex offered a grim smile in Persephone's direction.

"Good job, Perce," she conceded. "So, it looks like we're all fairly safe from the threat of enemy vampires and werewolves. Now, what about everything else?"

Hermione raised her hand.

"Ron and I did a practise run with the emergency exit incantation," she explained. Alex nodded slowly.

"Did all go to plan?" she enquired. Hermione nodded.

"It's fine. We told the prefects from all four houses before we got here," she pointed out. "We've established a signal, and we managed complete evacuation within seven minutes."

"Yeah, O'Reilley and I did a trial run with the troops," Benjamin explained. "We got them all into Hogwarts within three minutes, and into position after a further four..."

"Who's O'Reilley?" Moody demanded.

"Our chief General," Benjamin explained. "He won't come to these meetings- he's purely interested in killing things. Reckons we spend too much time talking," he added. Persephone smiled.

"Good old O'Reilley," she said, with a smile. "You couldn't ask for a more ruthless battle commander. Except perhaps for Al..."

"So," Alex mused, ignoring Persephone's comment, "seven minutes in, seven minutes out. That's pretty quick. I've done a few calculations- if Voldemort and his armies want to get into Hogwarts, the fastest way they can do it is by Apparating outside of the grounds. It'll take them a fifteen-minute march to reach the gates. As far as that goes, we'll be ready to face them as soon as we detect their Apparations. However, vampires are bloody fast- we'll need enforcements on the front line, but not too many. We don't want it too look like we're expecting company."

McGonagall stood up.

"There's no need to concern yourself, Alexandra," she said. "The staff are all ready. Voldemort, at best, will see us as a flustered group of teachers making a desperate, futile effort to hold off his forces."

Snape nodded in agreement.

"He won't see it coming," he agreed. "That doesn't mean he'll be floored, by any means, but it'll be something of an advantage."

Harry noticed that, upon hearing these words, Alex surveyed Snape with a stern glare.

"I take it from your words, that you will be joining the other members of staff?" she enquired. Snape nodded.

"As, I assume, shall you," he replied. Alex nodded.

"Voldemort isn't quite so hell-bent on having me killed, though," she commented, coolly.

"I'm not taking our children with me," he retorted. It looked as though they were both brewing up for an almighty slanging match, but Persephone soon put a stop to it.

"For Merlin's sake! Can't you two do this somewhere else!" she snapped, hotly. Snape and Alex looked dumbfounded, and consequently said no more on the matter. However, Harry noticed that they both still looked somewhat distressed by each other.

Suddenly, Bill stood up, and fiddled nervously with the fang earring dangling from his right ear. He coughed quietly, and soon had everybody's attention- his demeanour being infinitely preferable to Alex and Snape's uncomfortable aura of unfinished business.

"So, that's that then?" he asked. "I mean, it's all planned, bar the actual event tomorrow?"

McGonagall nodded.

"All we can do now, is wait," she agreed. Bill managed a small smile.

"That's just what Jack said," he commented. "I'm guessing if he thought we'd covered all bases..." He trailed off upon seeing Alex stare at him with her unnatural blue eyes.

"Jack Drake's part in all of this is over," she stated, firmly. "Now, it's all up to us. I don't ever want to hear his name mentioned again- I will not have him dragged into this if everything goes wrong."

Moody raised an eyebrow at her.

"If everything goes wrong?" he enquired, languidly, though the manner in which he had folded his arms suggested he was expecting a decent explanation. Alex sighed.

"Theoretically, we've done all we can. However, as we are all aware, there is a distinct element of risk involved. If the worst happens, I don't want a man who has already risked life and limb for his country- both Muggle and Wizarding- at Voldemort's mercy," she explained. "After all, he didn't volunteer to help..." She glanced across at Persephone, who remained unrepentant.

"You won't be complaining if this works, that's all I'm saying," she replied, frostily, before getting up out of her seat and walking out of the room, much to the amazement of the rest of the congregation.

"What's the matter with 'er?" Harry heard Mudungus Fletcher mutter to Hagrid, who shrugged, but looked at the doorway through which Persephone had just exited, with deep sympathy.

McGonagall clapped her hands and called for attention from the whispering crowd.

"Right, if there are no further questions, I call this meeting adjourned. Everybody knows their places for tomorrow, I suggest a good night's sleep, and to hope that Merlin is looking down on us," she said, before everyone began to shuffle, get up from their chairs, or meander towards the door. Molly brought out an enormous pot of tea and some fairy cakes, which kept a fair number of people from leaving the room. Harry, however, was not seduced by such confectionary delights- he wanted to find Persephone.

"I'll be back in a bit," he said to Hermione, who was looking around the room in a slightly nervous manner.

"What? Oh, alright, Harry," she said, distractedly. "I'll meet you in Ginny's room."

"Okay," he replied, automatically, before he gave Hermione's words a little more thought. "Why Ginny's room?" he asked.

"Because Luna and Neville are stopping tonight," Hermione explained. "Mrs Weasley thought it would be nice if we all got a chance to spend this evening together."

"Right," Harry replied, before dashing off out of the doorway Persephone had exited out of just a few moments earlier.

He made his way quietly up the staircase that led to the next floor of Grimmauld Place, lest he wake Mrs Black's portrait. Mind you, she had been most quiet ever since that incident a few weeks ago where she began raving about mudbloods, half-breeds and the like in front of a particularly hormonally imbalanced Alex, who had stormed off, only to return a few moments later with a bottle of white spirit and a malicious smile. Harry had caught a brief glimpse of the resulting effects, and as much as he despised that portrait, he couldn't help but feel a little pang of sympathy for Mrs. Black and her new look.

Quite without noticing, he walked straight into somebody.

"Hey, watch it!" Ron had hissed, which alerted Harry to his previous lack of attention as to his movements, but then the two made eye contact, and Harry realised that Ron looked exceedingly shifty.

"Where are you going, Ron?" Harry asked, spying that Ron was wearing a jacket, and had squashed a hat down over his head. He was also wearing sunglasses, which Harry couldn't quite understand, for it was overcast outside.

"Nowhere!" Ron replied, as thought it were a knee-jerk reaction. Swiftly after, he un-tensed his shoulders a little, and added. "Erm, actually, I'm just popping to the shops... Do you want anything?"

"No, thanks," Harry replied. "Are you okay, Ron?"

Ron's cheeks burned a bright red.

"Fine," he replied, with a nervous stutter. "Absolutely fine. I'll see you later," he added, before bolting down the stairs so quickly, Harry wondered if he was being chased by something. He didn't wonder for long, though, for he saw Persephone's lean figure walk briskly past the stairs, and into a little study room. Harry followed, but was rather surprised to find Lupin practically at her heels.

"Persephone, this is madness!" Harry heard Lupin opine, somewhat forcefully.

"Look," came Persephone's cool tones. "I'm not planning to, if I can help it. However, if the time comes, I'll do it, mark my words."

"It's dangerous," Lupin tried to reason, "and I don't just mean in the sense that what we're planning to do tomorrow is dangerous. You don't know the consequences that could arise!"

"You don't know how desperate we might get," Persephone retorted. Harry heard Lupin sigh heavily, as though he were puffing his cheeks up before exhaling deeply.

"Have you talked to Severus about this?" he enquired.

"Nope," Persephone replied, brusquely, "nor do I plan to."

"He'd want to know," Lupin said, quietly. "Whatever has happened between the two of you- and I know it's been a lot- he does love you."

"Love is a very abstract concept, Remus," Persephone said. "My plans are all made out of love. I want to be prepared for the absolute worst."

There was a long pause, before Lupin enquired, "Are you sure they are made out of love, and not vengeance?"

Persephone's silence told Harry all that he needed to know concerning her opinion. However, before he could reach the study room to ask Persephone and Lupin just what was going on, Mrs. Weasley put a motherly arm around his shoulders and nearly scared him half to death, for he hadn't noticed her trudging along the corridor.

"Come along, Harry," she said, in those bright tones that suggested she felt anything but. "Ginny has been looking all over for you. I've made some sandwiches for you all- you do like ham and cheese, don't you? I can always rustle up something else."

"Ham and cheese is fine, Mrs. Weasley," Harry replied, but Mrs. Weasley didn't seem to heed his words.

"We've got some pickle, if you'd prefer. There's some corned beef, too. There's plenty of lettuce, as well..." She trailed off suddenly, as though something else had crossed her mind, pushing thoughts of sandwich fillings clean out of her mind.

"Are you okay, Mrs Weasley?" Harry ventured, carefully. Mrs. Weasley seemed to shake herself from her reverie, and plastered a big smile across her face, like a mask.

"I'm fine, Harry, dear. Absolutely fine," she replied, in nervous tones, whilst guiding him towards the staircase that led to the room Hermione and Ginny always shared whenever they stayed at 12 Grimmauld Place.

"As I was saying- Ginny's been looking for you. Hermione, Neville and Luna have all been helping out with getting the other students to wear those pendants- they're probably back already. Hermione mentioned something about passing them onto the House Prefects... Have you seen Ron about?" she asked suddenly. Harry shrugged.

"He just left. He said he had to go to the shops," he replied. Mrs. Weasley looked most perturbed.

"What in Merlin's name could he possibly need? Doesn't he know how dangerous it is out there!" she remarked, hotly. Harry thought about trying to reason that, compared with everything else they had got involved in that year- from being held hostage by Death Eaters during their Potions lesson, to coordinating resistance against Voldemort himself- a trip to the local shop would hardly pose much of a threat; then he looked at Mrs. Weasley's fraught expression, and thought better of it.

"Here you go, Harry, love," Mrs Weasley said, as she gently pushed him towards the open door, before walking away, as though she had many more people to manoeuvre into various rooms. Through the doorway, Harry could see Ginny, Neville and Luna sitting on the floor, whilst Hermione was playing hostess by handing out sandwiches.

"Do you want any sandwiches, Harry?" she asked, without so much as looking up. Harry shook his head, but then realised that she probably couldn't see such an action, so he added, "No, thanks."

"How's mum doing?" Ginny asked. Harry shrugged.

"Okay, I suppose..."

"Did she talk to you about the sandwiches?" she probed.

"Yeah, quite a bit, actually," Harry replied, at which Ginny's face dropped.

"She's really worried, isn't she?" she said, in a small voice. Harry sighed, and sat down next to her on the floor.

"This is horrible," he said, unnecessarily.

"You took the words right out of my mouth," Neville replied, glumly. Luna looked up at them.

"The sandwiches are nice," she said, in a cheerful sort of voice. Although nobody could argue with this, neither could anybody follow up the remark.

"Where's Ronald, by the way?" Luna asked, casually, once she had swallowed her last bite of her sandwich. All eyes were on Hermione, but she looked steadfastly at a nearby plate.

"I don't know," she replied, in a fretful voice. "We're not joined at the hip!"

"Alright, we just wondered," Neville replied, soothingly.

An uncomfortable silence followed, and Harry could think of nothing to do except chew on his sandwich. He figured that it really didn't matter what filling Mrs Weasley had chosen to put in her lovingly prepared sandwiches, because none of his taste buds appeared to be working. He sighed- they had chosen a right time to go on strike, for this could be the penultimate meal he ever ate.

"What's up with Professor Snape and Professor Beauchamp?" Luna enquired, whilst she diligently tore her second sandwich up into bite-size pieces, before arranging them on her plate in the shape of the original triangular sandwich.

Harry sighed heavily.

"Where do you want us to begin?" he joked. It seemed pretty pointless bothering to keep it all a secret now, anyway. Whatever happened, they were both near the top of Voldemort's hit-list.

"Well, are they related?" Luna asked, as she popped the piece of sandwich that lay parallel to the crust into her mouth. "I would expect they are, because they do look rather similar, don't they?" She continued, after swallowing. "I only noticed a few weeks ago..."

Neville laughed hollowly.

"Oh, they're related, all right," he replied. Harry nodded.

"Yeah, she's his daughter," he explained. Luna looked puzzled.

"She seems a bit old to be his daughter..." She trailed off suddenly. "Oh."

"Yeah- oh," Harry commented, secretly surprised that Luna had actually picked up on the situation.

"So," she enquired, "he had her when he was really young- why keep it such a secret? I know Professor Snape isn't one to share his life story with us, but it seems so hushed up."

"That's because of who Persephone's mother is," Harry explained, whilst finding himself unable to met Luna's piercing gaze.

"Who's her mother?" she asked, eagerly.

"Mine," he replied. There was a pause, followed by the sound of a crashing plate. It was at that point that Harry remembered he hadn't got around to explaining this part of the whole saga to Neville.

"Yours?" Neville gasped. "Beauchamp's your sister?"

"Half-sister," Harry corrected. Neville didn't appear to be mollified by his words.

"Are you telling me you're related to Snape?" he asked. Harry shook his head vigorously.

"No way!" he retorted, quickly. Luna tutted.

"If Professor Beauchamp is his half-sister, and they share the same mother, then obviously they've got different fathers," she pointed out. "That's what happened with my dad's grandparents, and why he's got an aunt that's younger than he is."

Neville looked at her, his expression slightly slack-jawed.

"Right," he replied, slowly.

Harry didn't get a chance to explain any further to Neville, for they were interrupted by Ron attempting to sneak into the room.

"Alright, everyone?" he enquired, nonchalantly, whilst the door slammed behind him.

"Not too bad, all things considered," Harry replied, as he tried to ignore the rustling of the paper bag Ron was clutching between his fingers. Soon enough, he could stand the curiosity no longer.

"What have you got there, Ron?" he asked. Ron's ears turned a brilliant shade of red, which quickly seeped into the rest of his face. He momentarily thrust the bag behind his bag, as though he hoped that by doing so, Harry would forget it existed.

"Nothing!" he said, hurriedly. Ginny stared at him, and Harry could see she was trying to suppress a smile.

"It doesn't look like nothing," she commented, with a sly wink in Harry's direction. Ron put the bag in his coat pocket.

"Fine, there's just a bunch of toothbrushes. That's all!" he retorted. Ginny held her palms aloft in mild rebuke.

"Okay, okay; don't have a heart attack over it, or anything," she replied.

"Well, stop sticking your nose in," he said, sharply, which just made Ginny bite down on one of her knuckles. The simple action of Ginny resorting to such measures in order to prevent her laughter from escaping swiftly infected Harry with the urge to laugh. He was so preoccupied with this, that he barely noticed Hermione and Ron exchange glances and sneak out of the room, although he did hear Ron protest, "The lady kept staring at me! I tried about three times, but lost my bottle. In the end, I bought a load of toothbrushes and stuff, hoping to sneak it between the items, so that she wouldn't notice. Except she did. She kept asking me loads of questions about sizes. I've never been so embarrassed..."

Apparently, judging by the way Neville, Luna and Ginny were looking at the door, Harry hadn't been the only one to hear Ron's words.

"What in Merlin's name is he on about?" Neville enquired. Luna shrugged.

"Sounds like he was trying to buy those travel brushes," she replied. "Dad's got one that you can shrink to fit any bag. Unfortunately, you can also expand them- he didn't read the instructions properly the first time, and it kept growing. It got so big that the only place left to store it was the chimney. "She sighed heavily, as though toothbrushes the size of the average living room were a commonplace irritation. "It took hours to get it out."

Ginny, Harry noticed, said nothing; although she did blush a pretty shade of pink.

The door opened again, and Hermione and Ron re-entered, wearing the kind of expressions that two people who don't want you to know what they were discussing would wear in an attempt to look as neutral as possible. Ginny looked up at them both, her face having lost some of its previous colour.

"Everything alright?" she asked, whilst looking at Hermione in a slightly odd manner. Hermione flushed momentarily.

"Fine," she replied, quickly. "Everything's fine."

Ginny bit her lip- Harry assumed by the way her eyes twinkled that she had smothered a smile- and nodded in reply.

Neville stretched his arms above his head and sighed.

"So, what does everyone want to do?" he asked. "I reckon we could do with taking our minds off tomorrow."

Harry found himself nodding in agreement.

"Now that's a good idea," he said. "Who's got any Gobstones, or a pack of Exploding Snap cards?"

"Or some Firewhiskey," Ron quipped, which resulted in Hermione slapping him hard on his knee. Neville merely laughed.

"Yeah, because being hung-over tomorrow would be a good idea," he replied. Ron snorted.

"Sometimes, I feel as though I'd like to go through tomorrow in a drunken haze," he stated. "At least that way, if I died, it would be really fuzzy..."

"Will you stop it!" Ginny shrieked, suddenly and inexplicably. "Stop going on about it! We aren't going to die tomorrow! We'll be safe- it's all figured out. The Order, and the Brethren- they might die. We won't," she added, quietly, the end of her small outburst plunging the whole room into silence. Her words made Harry feel very uncomfortable. He recalled Lupin and Persephone's heated conversation earlier that day, and shuddered involuntarily. He didn't like thinking about Persephone being in a situation desperate enough for her to do whatever it was that Lupin was trying to dissuade her from, and Ginny's words reminded him that she could easily end up in just such a situation very soon.

Suddenly, Luna's voice broke the uncomfortable silence.

"I'd like to kiss a boy," she said, in matter-of-fact tones. Every other person in the room turned slowly to look at her.

"Huh?" Neville remarked. "You're sure you wouldn't prefer Exploding Snap?"

Luna looked up at him.

"Before I die, I mean. I'd like to kiss a boy before I die."

Hermione smiled kindly.

"I'm sure you will, Luna," she replied. Luna turned to look at her.

"If I die tomorrow, I won't," she stated. "If I die tomorrow, I'll die having never kissed a boy." She looked at a suddenly wide-eyed Ron, who grabbed Hermione's arm so tightly, she flinched.

"Which would be very sad," she added, nonchalantly. Ron's fearful expression did not falter until Luna switched her gaze from him to Harry.

"I think I'd like to experience that sort of... love, I suppose, before I die," she explained, although this didn't make Harry feel any less uncomfortable at being fixed with her piercing gaze. He looked across at Ron for support, except that he looked very jittery. More bizarrely, so did Hermione.

"Wow," Ron said, finally, "you know, she's got a really good point. If we died tomorrow, we'd miss out on so much."

"We would, wouldn't we," Hermione replied, not looking at him.

"Yeah- just think of all the things we might never get a chance to do," Ron continued, looking up at the ceiling as though in deep thought. "The jobs we may never take, the families we may never start, the..." He trailed off.

"All the love in the world we may never find out about," Hermione finished. They looked at each other for a moment, before getting up out of their seats.

"Right, erm... we'll be back in a while," Ron said, the tips of his ears turning red.

"Yeah, we'll be back before you know it," Hermione soothed. Ron looked a little annoyed.

"I... We won't be that quick," he retorted, before the two of them speedily exited Ginny's room and ran up the stairs. Ginny stared after them in horror.

"Where have they disappeared to?" Neville asked. Ginny grimaced, and flushed once more.

"I wish I didn't know," she replied, and would say no more about the matter. Harry tried to get her attention in order to find out what she knew, but she kept avoiding his glances in a very skilful manner.

"Why haven't you kissed anyone yet?" Neville enquired, gently touching Luna's arm as he did so. "Have you just not met anyone you'd like to?"

Luna shook her head.

"I think it's because everyone at school thinks I'm a loony, don't you?" she replied, in a tone of voice free from any sarcasm or resentment. This didn't stop Neville from looking a little ashamed, however.

"Well, that's their loss, not yours," he replied. Luna smiled at him.

"You're very sweet," she said. "It's a pity Hermione didn't fancy you."

Neville turned bright red, but said nothing in reply. In fact, nobody said much of anything, until they were distracted from their own thoughts by the sudden loud banging and shouts that emanated from upstairs. The noises followed as two people stomped down the stairs, and Harry heard Persephone's voice exclaim, "I wish I hadn't told you about it now!"

"Well, I'm extremely glad you did; at least I can stop you from being so stupid!" Lupin retorted. Harry sighed.

"What's the matter?" Ginny asked. "I mean, besides the shouting?"

"I don't know," he replied. "I just know they've been arguing about something all evening, and that whatever it is, it's bad."

Ginny wrinkled her nose.

"How do you mean?" she asked.

"I'm not entirely sure," Harry explained. "It sounded like Persephone was planning something as a last resort, and Lupin didn't want her to do it."

"It won't be stupid if it works, Remus!" Persephone said, loudly, as she padded past the door of Ginny's room.

"Actions like this have consequences, Persephone," Lupin tried to reason, although his voice sounded more frantic than Harry had ever known.

"You think I don't know that?" Persephone replied. "Of course I do. That's why it's a last resort. And keep your voice down- Harry's in one of these rooms."

"At least let me look at it," Lupin pleaded, in a much lower voice than before. There was a pause, before Persephone whispered, "Fine, just don't tell my dad."

Their voices swiftly went out of Harry's earshot as they walked away from the door. Ginny sniggered.

"What's so funny?" Harry demanded. Ginny continued to smile.

"Just Persephone," she replied, fondly. "Typical of her to demand quiet in such a loud voice."

"This is serious!" Harry exclaimed. "She could be doing something really dangerous!"

"Oh, come on, Harry," Neville said in calming tones. "This is Professor Beauchamp. If anybody knows what they're doing, it's her. She's scarier than my Gran. She'll be fine."

"Yeah, but if there's anybody that knows when something is stupid and dangerous, it's Lupin," Harry retorted.

"Chin up, Harry," Neville replied, in a voice laced with optimistic sympathy. "She'll be fine."

Suddenly, the lights that adorned Ginny's bedroom walls sputtered out. Harry felt an involuntary shiver run up his spine- he had never known something like this to happen before.

"What just happened?" Harry said into the darkness.

"The lights went out, Harry," Ginny replied, sarcastically.

"Yeah, I'd managed to work that one out," he retorted. "I was wondering why they had gone out?"

"Who knows?" Neville commented. "Perhaps we should have a look..." Harry heard Neville fiddling in his pockets, presumably for his wand.

"Don't use any magic, Neville," Luna warned. "It could be a magical blackout. I've seen those happen occasionally- if you use your wand, you get some kind of surge once it has righted itself- you could cause your wand to explode!"

Neville instantly stopped playing with his pockets.

"Luna's got a good point there," Ginny added. It's probably best if we just ride it out..."

Nobody said anything for quite a while. Harry's eyes slowly grew accustomed to the darkness, but he still could only make out the moving shapes of his three friends- and even then, he most certainly couldn't distinguish between them. Having heard Luna's story about magical surges, Harry also felt most reluctant to risk any wandless magic to conjure up a light source. As much as Luna might have either misunderstood or entirely made up the effects, Harry didn't fancy taking a chance.

A sudden rustling of robes distracted Harry from his thoughts, but not nearly as much as the sensation of someone being far too close to him did. He was about to ask who was kneeling so closely, he could feel their breath, but he was forced into silence by the someone pressing their lips to his. Harry was stunned- who in Merlin's name would want to kiss him, and was too nervous to tell him about it? He immediately started to panic; Luna wanted to kiss a boy before she died, it could be her? Or maybe Ginny? He couldn't think of a single reason why she might want to, except possibly for a laugh, but she was still a possibility. Maybe she thought he was Neville? It was pretty dark... Harry felt his entire chest tense up at the thought of Neville. What if it was him? Maybe he thought Harry was Ginny, or Luna? If only he'd kissed a few more girls in his time at Hogwarts, he might be able to recognise the differences...

"Are you sure this is a magical blackout? I'm sure they don't last this long," Neville announced over the blackness, and Harry's shoulders relaxed instantaneously. At least he now knew he was kissing a girl. He awaited a reply, which would eliminate either Ginny or Luna as his possible partner. Sadly, no reply came.

"Fine, I'll talk to myself, then," Neville said.

Harry thought about how he could try to work out who was currently attached to his lips. He couldn't exactly deny that he was enjoying the whole experience, but it would be nice to know who it was, nevertheless. He felt small hands cup his face, and long hair brush against his cheek, but neither helped- both Ginny and Luna were of petite build, and they both had long hair. He tried to reach forward and touch the face of the mystery kisser, in the hope that he might be able to feel some sort of differences between their faces- Luna, he was sure, had a more snub nose, for example; Ginny's face was a little rounder, too. However, whoever was kissing him had either thought about this themselves, or simply didn't want their face touched, for Harry soon felt the hands on his face move away and grasp his wrists, preventing him from reaching up. All the while, this mystery person continued to kiss him. Perhaps it was Ginny? After all, this person seemed to know what they were doing, and Harry knew for certain she had kissed at least two different boys. Then again, perhaps he didn't know what constituted an experienced or inexperienced kiss? He had only had the one encounter with Cho Chang, which was hardly the easiest of benchmarks to use, given that she was crying her eyes out at the time. So, perhaps it was an inexperienced kiss- that led to the question of whether the fact that neither of them could see what they were doing was impeding the action. In which case, it could still be either Ginny or Luna.

Round about the time that Harry had given up on trying to work out who had been kissing him for what felt like over five minutes, they pulled away and moved out of reach. A few moments later, and the lights puttered back into life.

"Well, that was odd," Neville commented. Luna nodded in agreement.

"Yes, I've never known a blackout to last that long." She looked at her watch. "Would you look at that? Ten minutes," she stated.

"The only one I've ever experienced was for two minutes, and that was ages ago," Ginny remarked, before eying Harry curiously.

"Are you okay?" she asked. "You look as though you've seen a ghost."

"I'm fine!" Harry replied, quickly. Neither Ginny nor Luna looked much like people who had been kissing for around ten minutes, and the whole bizarre situation was starting to concern him somewhat. It must have been one of them, but whom?

"I'm surprised Hermione and Ron haven't come down to say something," Neville added. "What's taking them so long, anyway?"

Later, after around fifteen games of Exploding Snap, three games of Gobstones and a bizarre game involving removing sticks from a structure and losing if the stick you moved caused the structure to disappear in a cloud of pink smoke, they all eventually gave up waiting for Ron and Hermione and went to bed. Harry was still wondering who he had been kissing that evening, right up until he fell asleep. One plus side of this was that he wasn't kept awake thinking about Voldemort and the impending battle at all that night.

Mouchardchercheur- Yay! I like it when people unwisely read my stories uninterrupted, missing out on sleep and what not... I'm also glad you think I made Snape a little human. It was my intention; he's deeply unpleasant, but he's not a monster (admittedly, that's somewhat debateable for some people after HBP ). There are about five chapters left, which I hope answer most, if not all, of your questions. There will be an epilogue, but no sequel. I think this story will need no further explanation... I see your point about Ginny; I probably could have done with revealing that fact sooner than I did. Thank you for your review- I hope you continue reading!

Sapnish- Thank you for continuing to read, and for your patience (life just gets in the way sometimes, doesn't it? ). I think Neville probably needs a hug. As for Ron, I really think he seems to have that sort of a mind (imagines a grown up Ron in a too-big army uniform pushing coloured blocks around those table-sized maps like they do when planning battles in old war films). I hope you carry on reading- I'll be interested to here what you think...

Blumnkymn- Thanks for the review, I like that you've been awaiting this chapter (it makes me feel loved ). Your idea sounds very interesting; however, my story has already been written. It's the tidying up and awaiting comments that has been taking time (see author's notes above). There's nothing to stop you writing it yourself, though. In answer to your question, though, I'd imagine that the members of the Order who are Aurors will be able to explain to the Aurors involved how to get to the rendezvous point.

QueenOfAlagaesia- Thank you for your kind comments about my writing; I can only humbly apologise for keeping you waiting with the updates (again, see above), I hope things will be speedier for the last five (I think) chapters. Your questions are all very interesting ones, and they will all be answered by the end, I promise. I'll just say you've raised some pertinent points...

Zelda123- Yay! Another person who has sacrificed sleep because of this story! The evil side of my brain is rejoicing... I hope it won't take that long for the rest of the chapters, either (again, see above). Thank you for your review, and I hope you continue to read this story.