The Man of the Moment

Chapter Thirty-Seven: St. Mungo's- Revisited

Harry felt something akin to a jack-hammer smash against his rib-cage. Then, a few seconds later, a warm, sickly wind forced its way into his lungs. A few seconds more, and his face ached from stinging sharp slaps.

"If this is death," Harry mused. "It's a lot more painful than I'd have expected."

He felt it again- the crushing of his rib-cage, the air, the stinging of his face.

Then, suddenly, he sat bolt upright, and vomited right over Snape's robes. Snape looked at him in distain.

"Thank you, Potter," he said, sardonically, before slapping him a few more times. Harry couldn't think of anything to say, so instead, he just said, "Ouch!"

"Just making sure you're alive," Snape replied. Harry wiped his mouth on the back of his robe sleeve, and looked up at Snape. The vomit on his robes- which he had just removed with a swift flick of his wand- was really the least of his problems. He looked an absolute mess; as though he had gone on a drinking session with Hagrid and matched him pitcher for pitcher, before staggering down the local high street and picking a fight with seven Giants, a Troll and, later on, a brick wall. His face was bloodied and mangled, his robes torn. His nose appeared to have been broken, and the curious angle at which he held his left arm suggested that had been broken, too. He wasn't standing, and Harry wondered why.

"...You don't have to say anything, but anything you do say, may be used as evidence against you..."

Harry craned his neck to see the source of the familiar voice. Sure enough, it was Kingsley Shacklebolt, who had magically manacled what remained of Tom Riddle. Three other Aurors joined him, and carted a still cursing and snarling old Riddle away. Warm, cheerful sunlight filtered through the missing limestone slabs, and the almost non-existent roof. It was like something from a dream...

"Harry?" Lupin's voice called.

"Over here," Harry managed to shout- it surprised him how ragged and sore his voice sounded to his own ears. He heard footsteps rush over to him.

"Harry, are you okay?" Lupin asked.

"Oh, he's fine, Lupin," Snape retorted. "He's only been dead for six minutes."

Lupin ignored Snape's words, but Harry asked, "Was I really dead, then?"

"As a doorknob," Snape replied, as though his survival was a bitter disappointment.

"Where's Persephone?" Lupin asked, and Snape looked at him hollowly, before looking away again. Lupin followed his gaze, and Harry saw him turn white for a moment.

"Is she..."

"There's a pulse, but it's barely there. I don't know much about these things, but I'm sure there's supposed to be more than one beat a minute," Snape replied, apparently forgetting his hatred of Lupin in his grief. Lupin stood up.

"Kingsley has made up a portkey to St Mungo's," he announced, quietly. "I'll take Harry. Severus, can you take Persephone?"

Snape laughed harshly.

"I can't walk, Lupin," he replied and Harry noticed, for the first time, white shards poking up through the pale flesh of Snape's shins. "I could drag myself there, but I couldn't carry somebody else. Persephone could have broken anything, the way her body has been abused today..."

The sound of more footsteps, this time far more rushed, entered Harry's head.

"We've got to evacuate the building. Does anybody need a hand?" Hestia Jones called.

"Over here, Hestia," Lupin replied. Hestia ran over to them, her dark hair strewn over her face. She gasped in horror at the sight.

"Merlin!" she exclaimed. "Is she... Will she be okay?"

"We don't know," Lupin replied. "Could you take her to St Mungo's?"

Hestia nodded, and quickly conjured up a secure stretcher onto which she gently raised Persephone's body.

"Mobilicorpus," she whispered, and gingerly directed the stretcher, and Persephone, across the room.

Lupin looked at Harry with kind eyes.

"Can you stand, Harry?" he asked. Harry gingerly struggled to his feet. Everything ached beyond anything he could have previously imagined.

"Just about," Harry replied. Lupin smiled, and then put his arm below Snape's, helping to hoist the surly Potions master to his feet.

"Just grit your teeth for a moment, Severus," Lupin said, before conjuring splints for Snape's broken legs. For once, Snape didn't seem to feel like arguing. Lupin looked across at Harry.

"Are you strong enough to help me hold Severus' weight, Harry?" he asked. Harry looked at them both for a moment.

"I think so," he replied, and put his arm below Snape's left arm; both he and Lupin acting like human crutches. Snape surveyed them both with deep suspicion.

"Thank you," he replied. It was grudging, but nevertheless, Harry could tell he sort of meant it. Nobody really felt like sniping, anyway.

A swift portkey later, and Harry found himself bustled up to an emergency room, where a nice young woman, dressed in pale blue work robes with a wand and bones embroidered on the back, guided him to a bed and told him to sit there.

"The Healer will be with you shortly," she said soothingly, before a beeping noise distracted her, and she ran out of the room and down the corridor. Now that the excitement had all died down, the full extent of Harry' injuries began to take their toll. The pain of every muscle intensified, along with a few more acute areas, where Harry thought perhaps he had taken blows to. His ribcage hurt a lot, and he felt strangely thirsty.

The room was clean and quiet. Harry was grateful for it. After all those voices swirling around his head, he didn't want to have to listen to much more. He leant over the bed and looked through the window of the door. Lots of people appeared to be bustling past, most of whom wore the characteristic green robes with the wand and bone symbol that denoted their status as Healers. Harry briefly wondered what the blue robes might mean. He had a feeling they were possibly Assistants Healers, or carers of some description. A few Aurors kept walking past as well. Harry wondered if they were injured from battle, or whether they were guarding someone. He thought with a shudder about Tom Riddle. He certainly hadn't looked very well- although he had felt well enough to choke Harry to death. They wouldn't bring him for treatment, surely? Harry thought harder about this. They'd have to, really. They couldn't just leave him to die, could they? Harry didn't know what the procedures for such cases might be... He thought about Riddle choking him to death. That seemed rather strange, too. If he was dead right now, then Harry would have had no difficulty coming to terms with that. But he wasn't. He was walking, talking and breathing, apparently. Unless, of course, he had actually died, and this was some sort of bizarre afterlife. If he was dead, though, surely he would have seen Sirius, or his mum and dad? He couldn't end up in an afterlife all alone, could he?

Harry lay down on the crisp, cool white linen sheets of the hospital bed. The mattress was one of those firm ones that people with back problems often have, but it was still remarkably comfortable. His body desperately wanted to sleep, and possibly never wake up, but his mind was racing. Was everyone okay? Was he okay? What about Persephone? What about Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville and Luna? The last time he had seen them, they had broken away from the group of their classmates who were being led to safety by Benjamin Sampson, and Fred and George Weasley. They'd done it to find Harry, and to make sure he didn't go into battle alone. Only he followed Snape, who took him straight to Voldemort, on a quest to save the only thing they had in common...

There was a gentle knock at the door, before it opened, revealing a small, blonde woman in the green robes of a Healer, except that hers were edged in a thick band of white. Harry sat up warily. He also noticed that beneath those green robes she sported a rather impressive bosom, and he blushed at the thought. The woman, who clearly had no idea as to what had just run through his mind, smiled kindly at him, and Harry instantly felt at ease.

"Good afternoon, Mr Potter," she said, in such a soothing voice, Harry was sure he felt his racing heart-beat slow down in response. The Healer pulled up at chair and sat down opposite him, at a respectful distance, but close enough so that Harry didn't have to speak very loudly.

"Hello," he managed. She smiled.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, Mr Potter. I'm Healer Bancroft. I am a specialist healer, I deal in Sorcopterics- that's curse related injuries and maladies," she explained. "I must admit, I've been quite in demand today."

Harry couldn't help but smile. That didn't surprise him in the slightest. Judging from the grave look that flitted across Healer Bancroft's features, it hadn't surprised her, either. She looked down at her clipboard, before placing it on the nearby bedside table.

"Now, I just need to go through a few routine checks with you, just to make sure you're okay and you haven't sustained any internal injuries. It won't hurt," she added, kindly. Harry nodded.

"Okay," he replied. Bancroft smiled.

"Good, now, I could really do with knowing what's happened to you. I understand you were brought in by a Mr Lupin?" she asked, looking at Harry, who nodded. She smiled once again.

"That's good," she said, mostly to herself. "Now then," she continued, "we haven't been able to establish much of what you've gone through- if you could tell us anything that might help, that would be good." She picked up her clipboard again, and flicked her wand. The pages rearranged themselves, so that another form sat on the top of the clipboard.

"Now then, Harry- can I call you Harry?"

"That's fine," Harry replied. Bancroft smiled.

"Good. Have you been hit by any curses today?" she asked. Harry shrugged.

"I think so... I'm not sure," he replied, struggling to remember. It had been such a long day, and so much had happened, he struggled to recall whether any of the Death Eaters had struck him before he reached Voldemort. Bancroft frowned in thought.

"Well, okay, Harry. My next question was if you knew what you had been hit by, but I'm guessing you don't?" she asked, with a kind expression that suggested to Harry this was alright.

"I don't," he replied. Bancroft nodded.

"Okay... Harry, would you be able to remove your robes for me?" she asked. "I need to get a good look at your injuries. I promise you," she added, "I've seen it all before, but I can get one of my male colleagues to do the examination, if you'd prefer..."

"No, it's fine," Harry replied. Perhaps yesterday, he would have felt otherwise. Now, however, he didn't much care who was looking at him. He complied, and winced as he gingerly removed his school robes, followed by his shirt and trousers.

"Can I keep my pants on?" he asked. Bancroft smiled.

"Yes, Harry," she replied, before conjuring up what looked like a pair of surgical gloves. She put them on, and began to gently touch Harry's skin, probing his various cuts, scars and bruises. She examined his neck, and a shot of pain jolted Harry's body.

"Sorry," she whispered. "How did you manage this, Harry? Some kind of Asphyxiation curse?"

Harry shook his head.

"No; I was strangled. Voldemort grabbed by neck- well, I don't suppose he was Voldemort, then. He was more... well, he looked human. I suppose he really is Tom Riddle now..."

He looked down at Bancroft, who looked as though she had just seen a ghost.

"Right... Harry, I'm just going to contact- actually, who is your next of kin?" she enquired. Harry shrugged.

"There's my Muggle relatives, but I don't think they'd be much help, even if they bothered to turn up. There's my sister..." He paused. "I don't think she'd be able to get here, either..."

"What about your Headmistress?" Bancroft enquired. Harry nodded.

"She'd come, I think," he replied. She nodded, and pressed a pendant around her neck between her thumb and forefinger. Within seconds, a tall, gangly young man with a patchy beard and blue robes rushed into the room.

"Yes, Healer?" he asked. Bancroft looked up at him.

"Could you bring Professor McGonagall up here, please?" she asked. The man nodded, before making odd signals with his hand, and jerking his head violently towards the door. Bancroft watched him with curiosity, until her face clouded over with irritation.

"Leave it to me, Burton," she said, striding out to the doorway with her wand poised. Burton nodded, and ran off, presumably to find Professor McGonagall.

"Out!" Harry heard her bark. "Out of my ward this instant, or I'll have you arrested for harassment... Out!"

She came back into the room, her kindly, smiling face beaming calm and sincerity for all to see.

"Bloody reporters," she muttered.

Within moments, Harry heard a familiar voice from outside the ward.

"Be careful! I'm fine on my stick. I'm not completely decrepit, you know..."

Sure enough, McGonagall entered the room, and she looked startled by what she saw.

"Harry," she said, apparently putting aside all her usual schoolmarm authority. "Goodness me, what in Merlin's name happened?"

"I wanted you here, Professor," Bancroft explained. "I felt I shouldn't hear what Harry has to say alone. I was checking out his injuries and... well, Harry, if you'd like to explain."

Harry told McGonagall everything that had happened from the moment he left the safety of the school party escape mission; how he and Snape had gone to find Persephone and Voldemort, how he had wrested control of the odd tribal spell Persephone had sacrificed herself to, and how he had stripped Voldemort of his powers. Bancroft raised her eyebrows occasionally, between casting this spell and that against Harry's skin, testing him for various injuries that Harry didn't really understand.

McGonagall looked absolutely horrified.

"What in Merlin's name possessed you to... to do this!" she demanded.

"I don't know," Harry replied, truthfully. "I just... I was worried. I had a really bad feeling about Persephone..."

"And what was Severus thinking? Taking you to Voldemort! When I next see him, I'm going to kill him!"

"Malfoy already did," Harry replied. "He hit him with the Killing curse..."

McGonagall looked mortified- Harry wasn't sure if it was because she was grief-stricken or because she had missed her chance.

"He isn't dead anymore," Harry explained. McGonagall looked relieved, but incredulous.

"Mr Potter, you just said he was hit with the Killing curse!"

"I know- but that's why Persephone did whatever she did, and he came back!" He looked up at Bancroft. "Is he okay?" he found himself asking, before wondering why on earth he cared, even slightly. Mind you, he had to admit that the whole situation he was currently in; being engaged in serious conversation with his headmistress whilst wearing just his pants, as a blonde woman with unfeasibly large breasts fondled him in the name of medicine, was, quite frankly, odd enough to allow some inadvertent sympathy for Snape to creep in without causing much worry. Bancroft nodded in reply to Harry's spoken question.

"It looked much worse than it was," she replied. "Mostly broken bones, some internal damage. Not much of it was curse related. He's already been discharged as a patient..."

"Not curse related?" McGonagall asked. Harry nodded.

"Part of Riddle House fell on him," he explained. "How is Persephone?" he asked. Bancroft frowned.

"I'm afraid I can't really..."

"It's alright," McGonagall explained. "She's his sister."

Bancroft nodded.

"Well, it's early days, Harry. We've got her on a ventilator system, and her body is stabilising with the support spells, but she doesn't appear to be responding in any other way. However, these things can take a long time," she explained, hastily. "In fact, do you mind if I take a few samples from you?" she asked.

"Sure," Harry replied. "Why?"

"Well," Bancroft explained, "you appear to have residues of the same curses that I found in Persephone. Perhaps they might explain what's wrong with her."

"You mean you don't know?" McGonagall asked. Bancroft nodded.

"I've been a qualified Healer for twenty-seven years, Professor, and I have never seen anything like what I've seen in Miss Beauchamp, or Mr Potter," she explained. She then turned to Harry, ripping off a piece of paper from her clipboard.

"Right," she said, conjuring a bottle of purple liquid out of nowhere, "Take this- it's a generic curse neutraliser. It should repair any possible ill-effects of what you've gone through. I'll get some more potions made up for you to take- they should remove the swelling and bruises, both externally and internally. We'll have to keep you in for a few nights, but mainly for observation purposes. In fact, you should be feeling better by the end of the day. If, after a few hours, you don't feel any improvement, press this button and I'll come and check you out," she explained, pointing towards a shiny purple button on the side of the bed, which lay just above a similar green button. "If you need anything that isn't life-threatening- water, extra pillows- press the green button." There was another, larger, red button. "Any emergencies, press this red button."

Harry nodded. Bancroft smiled at him.

"Try and get a little rest. I'll have somebody send up some food and water for you in about half an hour. That'll be enough time for the potion to do its job. Professor McGonagall can stay with you, if you like, but I cannot permit any other visitors for the moment. I'll be back to check on you shortly," she said, before exiting the room and quietly closing the door. A few seconds later, and Harry heard Bancroft shout, "I told you, get out of my ward, or face the consequences!" A few moments later, he heard a spell being cast, and what sounded like a piece of parchment spontaneously combusting.

"And don't even think about taking that to your editor!" Bancroft barked, hotly.

Harry looked up at McGonagall, who appeared to be dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief.

"I've got something in my eye, Mr Potter," she said calmly. "Now, you should listen to Healer Bancroft." With those words, she plumped at Harry's pillow briefly, before sitting back in her chair. Harry swallowed his potion in one gulp- it tasted foul- and lay his head on the pillow, wondering if he would ever get to sleep again and, if he did, whether he'd ever wake up.

Harry slept quite comfortably for a good four hours, waking only briefly to be administered some more disgusting potions, and to eat some nourishing- if plain- food, which he managed to keep down. He was also given a large jug of water, which he drained within minutes. The gangly man with the patchy beard who had brought him the refreshments looked bewildered, before he refilled the jug. Harry drank only a couple of glasses after that.

"Are you alright, Mr Potter?" McGonagall asked, her voice sounding rather startled, and it was only when Harry realised that he had sat bolt upright that he understood the tone of alarm in her voice.

"I'm fine, Professor," he replied. "I just ache a little, but I feel much better than before."

McGonagall smiled.

"That's good to hear, Mr Potter. You've had quite an ordeal," she said, before her lips turned up in yet another smile. "You also have a few visitors who wish to see you; I had a few words with Healer Bancroft just moments earlier- she says they can come and see you whenever you feel ready. She has been most pleased with your progress."

Harry leant over his bed, and looked at the chart attached to its foot. He didn't quite understand the red graphs and funny numbers, but he understood the words 'Stable; visitors permissible for half-hour periods. Meal pattern- regular, no special requirements'

"Can I see them?" Harry asked. McGonagall nodded.

"Certainly, Mr. Potter. I'll just call them in," she said, before getting up and opening the door.

"You can come in," she said, in warning tones, "but don't overexcite him."

To Harry's delight, Hermione, Luna and Neville bounded in.

"Oh, Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, "Thank goodness you're alright! We've been so worried- there have been all kinds of rumours going around..."

"I'm fine," he said, gesturing for them all to sit on his bed, which they did.

"Will you be alright, Mr Potter?" McGonagall asked. Harry nodded.

"Thank you, Professor," he replied. She smiled.

"Not at all," she said. "Now, I've got a certain Potions Professor to visit," she said, grimly. For reasons Harry didn't understand, he found himself calling, "Don't be too angry with him, Professor. Voldemort- he told him Alex had been killed, and then Persephone was dying in front of him..."

McGonagall turned pale.

"Alexandra?" she enquired softly. Harry shrugged.

"That's just what he said. It might not be true," he reasoned, in hope more than anything. McGonagall smiled at him again in a sad, resigned sort of way that suggested she thought that as long as Harry believed that, it would be fine.

"As I said, I have a certain Potions Professor to visit," she repeated, before walking out and closing the door quietly behind her.

Hermione's eyes were on stalks.

"What?" she gasped. "What happened, Harry?"

"And why in Merlin's name were you sticking up for Snape?" Neville queried, in a clearly shocked tone of voice.

So, Harry found himself explaining the whole story again, and telling them all about Little Hangleton, the dead Muggles, Riddle House and how he destroyed Voldemort's powers by using the tribal magic Persephone had unleashed, only for him to strangle him as a frail old man.

"Wow- you're lucky to be alive," Neville said, with a grin. Luna looked thoughtful.

"But, didn't you actually die?" she enquired. Harry puzzled over this for a moment.

"I think so," he replied. Luna was staring at the chart on the foot of his bed.

"It says here you died. It was for about six minutes, apparently," she explained, as though it was an occurrence that happened every day. Harry frowned.

"Well, I guess I did, then," he said. "I remember Snape slapping me a lot, and punching me in the chest. I mean, I was dead, for Merlin's sake- he didn't really need to make sure!"

"He wasn't killing you, Harry," Hermione said, softly. "It sounds like he was resuscitating you."

Harry pondered this for a moment- then, when he realised that it meant Snape's mouth had been near his, he promptly decided never to think about it, ever again.

"Well," Harry thought, "I suppose he's fulfilled his life-debt to my dad now. I wonder if it's countered by the fact it was his fault I ended up in that position, anyway?"

"I couldn't believe it when you went off with Snape," Neville said. "I thought you'd gone stark-raving mad!"

"Yeah, I know," Harry replied. "I just... it sounds silly."

"Go on," Hermione encouraged. Harry began fiddling with the corner of the bed sheets.

"Well, I had a dream- you know ages ago, when I said that I saw Angela in my dream?" he prompted. Hermione nodded. Harry twisted the bed sheets around his fingers again.

"She said, 'Trust Alessio. He will want the same as you.' I know it sounds daft, but she was right. We did...." He trailed off.

"That doesn't sound daft to me," Luna replied, cheerfully. "Dreams can tell you lots of important things. I dreamt the other year that Professor Flitwick told me I should spend my summer holidays building a raft and sailing around the world. So I did."

Hermione looked at her, and Harry could tell she was struggling to mask a look of horror.

"Did it work?"

Luna shook her head.

"No; I only got as far as the next village- but I'm pretty sure I know what went wrong," she replied, evenly.

"So, what happened to you guys?" Harry asked, changing the subject. Between the three of them, Hermione, Neville and Luna told Harry about how they got everybody to safety, but then decided, almost simultaneously, they had to go back for Harry, before he did anything stupid. Fred and George took care of the rest of the school, whilst Benjamin Sampson came with them. Before they could part, however, they were circled by a group of vampires. The vampires tried to attack, but were repelled by their crosses. However, the symbols of faith didn't make them leave altogether. Sampson soon got fed up of this, and drunk a small vial of potion, which Hermione assumed had something to do with the same potion Lupin had been forced to drink, affecting his transformations. When Sampson suddenly transformed, painfully and loudly, into a werewolf which proceeded to rip apart every single vampire in their path- and scare the rest of the school half to death- Hermione's suspicions were confirmed.

"It was... quite a scene," Neville finished, lamely.

"I do hope Benjamin's okay," Hermione said. "He must have planned it, and taken Wolfsbane potion beforehand- he was so composed... It must have hurt- remember what happened to Lupin?"

"He might be okay, but his clothes weren't. Somebody got a nice surprise when the eclipse ended," Luna commented, without a hint of a blush.

Then it hit Harry, suddenly. Everything had happened so fast, he hadn't thought about asking. He presumed it was something to do with the potions he had been taking, or the side-effect of today's events in general. How could he forget his best friend, even for a second?

"Where are Ron and Ginny?" he asked. Hermione, Neville and Luna looked pensively at each other, and Harry felt his heart fill with lead.

"What happened to them?" he asked, warily. Hermione shook her head.

"Oh- no, Harry. They're both fine. It's just... Bill's gone missing," she said, with sadness in her voice.

Harry sat up a little further.

"What, he's dead?" he asked. Hermione shook his head.

"Nobody knows. He's missing. They're all in the Intensive Care ward, waiting to hear any news. Percy's been seriously injured, too- apparently, he tried to warn McGonagall about the attack; he'd overheard, by chance, a Death Eater spy relaying information about it. He got caught in the crossfire. Mrs Weasley's distraught- not just because of Bill and Percy. She's worried about you, too, Harry."

"I didn't even know they had an Intensive Care ward," Neville mused.

"Well, they've clearly decided they need one now," Hermione pointed out.

Harry pulled back his bed sheets.

"Can we go and see them?" he asked. Hermione frowned.

"Aren't you supposed to be resting?" she chastised.

"It's only a short walk," he protested. Neville smiled.

"I'll see if I can get you one of those sticks my Gran had to use," he said, with a small laugh, before walking out of the recovery room, presumably to find an assistant Healer. Within minutes, he had returned with a walking cane.

"I wish I had a camera, Harry," he said, before the four of them made their way to the Intensive Care ward, with Harry walking between his friends.

It wasn't like the scene after Voldemort's attack on the Ministry for Magic, where chaos reigned supreme. Everything around the wards was strangely calm. Then Harry caught a glimpse of the reception. Masses of reporters were scrambling to get information from the harangued receptionist, and a team of Aurors were keeping the press packs out of trouble.

"Is it true? You-Know-Who is here?"

"Harry Potter defeated him again?"

"He's worse off than a Squib?"

"He's dead?"

"Potter; is he dead?"

"Where's the Minister? We demand a statement!"

Harry couldn't help but smile. He saw Healer Bancroft storming towards the crowd.

"Then go to the Ministry for Magic," she spat. "Now, clear off, or I'll give you a story- 'Reporters Lose Limbs in Bizarre Hospital Massacre Shocker!'" With those words, she stormed off, leaving a rather muted crowd of journalists.

They took a sharp left, and found the newly christened 'Albus Dumbledore Intensive Care Ward', which seemed a lot less ordered than the ward that Harry had just come from. Hermione and Neville had to jump out of the way of two Healers carrying a young woman- from her attire, Harry guessed her to be a Brethrenite- to a nearby bed, suspending her in the air with what appeared to be Cushioning charms. In the corner, Harry could see Mrs Weasley pacing fretfully, clutching a handkerchief, which she kept using to dab at her tears. Fred and George were sitting on chairs in the waiting area, looking very solemn and sporting a small number of bandages; suggesting to Harry that they had not come out of their part in the Hogwarts students' rescue mission unscathed. Charlie, who appeared to have suffered some hefty burns, was comforting a distraught Ginny. Ron sat next to them, looking thoroughly dejected and staring at his shoelaces. Hermione ran towards him and hugged him, a move which he gratefully reciprocated.

"Oh, Harry!" Mrs Weasley cried, as they got closer. "How are you- you poor thing, you've been through so much..." She hugged him so tightly, Harry thought he might be suffocated all over again, but then she began to cry, and pulled herself away from him a little, as though she were inspecting him.

"You were so brave, Harry; we've heard all about it," she said in a trembling voice. "There have been so many arrests already; Death Eaters are giving themselves up in the hope that they can get easier sentences."

Harry managed a small smile. So, news of Voldemort's destruction really had travelled far and wide. That was something, at least.

Mr Weasley entered the corridor via a small door, with a Healer in tow. They were engaged in conversation, but as soon as he reached his family, the Healer was all but forgotten.

"Any news?" Mrs Weasley half demanded, half begged. Mr Weasley shook his head.

"I'm afraid not," he replied, taking off his glasses and wiping them with his own handkerchief, in a manner that suggested the act was one of displacement, rather than necessity. Mrs Weasley's eyes welled with tears again, and Mr Weasley hugged her tightly.

"They'll be fine," he soothed, "you'll see." He looked up, and saw Harry.

"How are you feeling, Harry?" he asked. Harry shrugged.

"Okay," he replied. "Healer Bancroft patched me up."

Mr Weasley nodded.

"Good, good. She's very good, you know," he commented. Mrs Weasley nodded in agreement.

"The poor woman's been rushed off her feet," she replied.

Harry looked around. He desperately wanted to know what had happened to Persephone, but the idea of asking Mr and Mrs Weasley- who were fraught with worry for the lives of their own children- made him feel terrible. However, his concerns soon melted away, for he spotted Benjamin Sampson limping towards them on a pair of crutches. Harry knew if anybody would know about Persephone, he would.

"Ow," Sampson complained, as he limped closer, although that word was followed by a particularly harsh swear word, and the pattern was repeated until he stopped in front of Harry and Neville, the latter of whom had wandered over to Harry, evidentially feeling a little out of place in this scene of Weasley familial concern.

"Hi Harry," Sampson said. "I see you're up and about. Bloody good job, too- I think the Ministry will want to worship you for the rest of the year, and it'd be a shame if you missed it by dying." He winced. "Christ, this is painful. I don't know how Remus coped, going through that every night for almost a month. He must have balls of steel!" Sampson exclaimed. Harry couldn't help but laugh.

"I take it you're not feeling so clever?" he asked. Sampson looked at him momentarily.

"Funnily enough, I've been better," he replied, sardonically.

"I don't suppose you know how Persephone is, do you?" Harry asked. Sampson frowned.

"She ain't too good, kid," he admitted, placing a friendly arm around his shoulder. "The Healers wanted to pronounce her clinically dead. Severus really had to fight to get her put on a ventilator system and to be given magical assistance. Thank God for Bancroft, that's all I can say. She was really helpful."

"Yeah, she's treating me," Harry explained. Sampson nodded.

"She must be knackered- she's been running around this ward like a blue arsed fly," he said, with a snort of laughter, before looking around and leaning towards Harry, as though he wanted to impart some classified information.

"You know what, Harry? I think she has some history with Remus," he said, with a wink. "Severus as well, actually- when he piped up about Persephone, she seemed to bend over backwards to help us." He looked thoughtful. "They must have been good..."

"How is Persephone now?" Harry asked, changing the subject rapidly. Sampson blushed a little.

"Sorry, Harry- even at thirty, I'm still too immature to deal with serious situations, preferring instead to cover up my feelings with humour... She's..." He sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Perhaps you'd better just come and see..." He gestured towards a nearby door, from where Harry could hear raised voices.

Harry opened the door to allow Sampson and his crutches in first, before following him. He was soon able to pinpoint the raised voices as belonging to Snape and Lupin, both of whom looked rather cross, to say the least.

"...If this is about her confiding in me over that spell..."

"This has got nothing to do with that, Lupin- my daughter's life is hanging by a thread, and you're hovering around like a particularly bad smell!"

"You're not the only one who cares, Severus," Lupin replied evenly, although his face was a little flushed. Snape merely sneered.

"You didn't care enough to stop her..."

"I told you..."

"Or tell me!" Snape finished, rounding on Lupin. "I could have stopped her!"

Lupin cocked his head.

"Oh, really? I'd love to know why your words would have made any difference," he replied.

"Because I, unlike you, don't have a sponge for a backbone," Snape spat.

Sampson viewed the scene with an odd expression of amused horror.

"Guys, break it up!" he insisted. "Remus, you did what you thought was right, and tried to talk her out of it. Severus, I'd like to have seen you stop Persephone do anything. She does as she pleases- always has..."

"I take it you've as much knack at getting people to see sense as Lupin here?" Snape retorted. Sampson merely shrugged.

"What would you have done, Severus? Broke both her legs?" he enquired, sardonically.

"If that's what it took," Snape replied coolly. Sampson shook his head.

"Guys- whatever. I get it; you're frustrated and want to take it out on each other by having a scrap," he said lazily. "However, she's my friend, too, and I'd like it if she could recover in peace, without you two bawling your heads off at each other."

"Sorry, Ben," Lupin replied, softly. Snape said nothing, he merely looked up, and had clearly spotted Harry.

"Oh, great," he replied sourly.

"I've come to see my sister," Harry said in low, warning tones. He became aware of Sampson rolling his eyes.

"Is it something about getting seven bells kicked out of you that makes you all so aggressive?" he enquired sarcastically. However, despite Snape's bitter expression, he grudgingly moved aside to allow Harry to sit at Persephone's bedside.

Harry felt as though his lungs had almost given up, but had a last minute change of heart. He breathed in sharply upon seeing Persephone. Her body was even more emaciated that he had originally remembered, although the beams of light that thrust into various points of her skin might have enhanced that effect. Her lips and nostrils were prised open by a steady stream of pulsing red light, with which the rising and falling of her chest corresponded perfectly. It was clear she was not breathing unassisted. Her long hair was still a shock of white. Her bones had been fixed, and she only had a few blossoms of purpling bruises to show for all her fighting. Harry reached forward and stroked her hand; the one that she had thrust a dagger through once to start the tribal sacrificial spell, and which Harry had also thrust a sword through to transfer her pain to himself. The gaping holes had gone, but were replaced by a curious mark, one that looked like a shiny burn. It was in the shape of an ankh, just like the one that had appeared on the Snapes spell book that Hermione had obtained. Almost instinctively, Harry looked down at his own hand, where the sword had passed through it. He was surprised to find he had exactly the same scar.

Sampson stood behind him and leant on his crutches.

"Hey up, Percy," he said, cheerfully. "Your brother's here to see you. He's on the mend, and he managed to put Voldemort in here- the least you can do is wake up to say thanks!"

"Well, I'm glad you can be so blasé about this," Snape spat. "It may be reason for you to be cheerful, but it certainly isn't for the rest of us."

Sampson said nothing, but Harry could see in his eyes that he was anything but cheerful. He bent over and kissed Persephone's forehead, before limping out of the room.

"Ben, don't go," Lupin said, but Sampson shook his head.

"Forget it," he said sharply. "I've only known her six years- what do I care? Anyway," he added, slightly less angrily, "I'd better find my Brethren bleeper. Hopefully, Dawkins can let me know who else we've lost, and whether they've found Alex's body yet." With those words, he limped off, flashing Snape a curious look of fury and pity. In a way, Harry understood; as spiteful as Snape was being, he did feel sorry for him. This was a terrible situation.

Healer Bancroft bustled in with the kind, friendly demeanour Harry had come to associate her with.

"How are we all doing?" she asked. Lupin smiled.

"Well, we certainly all ache a lot less, thanks to you," he said. Bancroft smiled at him in a rather over-familiar way, Harry thought.

"Glad to hear it, Remus," she said, her cheeks tingling with pink just momentarily.

"How is she?" Snape asked curtly. Bancroft smiled kindly.

"I'm just going to check," she said, as she began waving her wand, presumably to do some kind of medical tests. She pointed her wand at Persephone's eyes, and each eyelid lifted up, independently. Bancroft examined them both with what appeared to be a small magnifying glass.

"Well, they're stared to go green again," she said. "That's a good sign." She looked up at Snape. "Generally speaking, it means whatever possession has taken place hasn't caused a permanent fusion of the spirit with the body. That's the main danger of any form of possession- once that happens, the body can never recover; so, she's got a fighting chance..."

"What about her hair?" Harry asked. Bancroft met his gaze.

"With these sorts of spells, a lot of the time, and changes to the hair or hair follicles ends up permanent," she explained. "It isn't anything to worry about in terms of her getting better..." With those words, she began to examine Persephone's body, frowning occasionally.

"Well, it's early days," she said. "We're just going to have to see how it goes. She's showing some good signs of improvement; her eyes, and the fact that she's responded to the healing spells on her broken bones, bruising and the wounds on her hand. These things can take a long time, so don't worry if she's still not breathing unassisted by the end of the week..."

"How long is she likely to be like this?" Lupin asked. Bancroft shrugged.

"To tell you the truth, it could be anything from a few hours to a few months," she explained. "Generally speaking, if there's no improvement in five days, we start to worry, but this is an unusual case. It could take a lot longer, but she should be off at least one of the life-support spells in a few days. We've done all we can for her, Healing wise. It's just a case of crossing our fingers from now on," she explained, looking at Harry and Snape. Bancroft then looked at Persephone's hand, and was apparently reminded of something.

"Sev... Sorry, Professor... Actually, do you mind me calling you Severus?"

"Call me what you like," Snape replied shortly. Harry wished that Bancroft would take him at his word and call him a git, but sadly, she was too professional.

"Well, Severus, the scarring on your chest. I don't suppose you'd mind me taking a photograph of it? It's for our records, you see- I like to keep pictorial information on any new curse damage. It helps with identification if it happens again," she explained. Snape shrugged.

"As you wish," he replied, unbuttoning his robes and pulling the fabric apart, exposing his skinny, pale chest. Harry noticed that Snape had the exact same scar on his chest that both he and Persephone currently wore on their hands. Bancroft pulled out a small camera, and snapped a few photographs from different angles.

"You've got the clearest example out of all three of you," she explained. Snape raised an eyebrow.

"All three of us?" he enquired. Bancroft nodded.

"Persephone and Harry have got that same mark on their hands," she pointed out. "Rather odd, don't you think?"

"Indeed," Snape replied coldly. Bancroft gave his a small smiled, before looking down at her feet- something Harry wondered if she had ever managed to do since the age of fifteen, and then felt instantly guilty for even thinking it.

"You can't get rid of me that easily," Steve taunted.

"Erm, Severus?" she asked, in almost a whisper. Snape looked at her expectantly, and with an air of impatience.

"I just wanted to say... thank you," she said. "You know why." She scurried off towards the door.

"I'm sorry about that china kitten, too," she added, with a cheeky smile, before exiting the room. Harry felt his jaw slacken.

"She's Penny Bancroft?" he asked. Lupin nodded.

Sampson limped back into the room.

"Thanks, love," he said to Bancroft, who had apparently held the door open on her way out. He smiled- a genuine, heartfelt smile- at Snape.

"Well, I didn't know that!" he said. "No wonder she's been so helpful. You didn't tell us you'd saved her life- and that of her family."

Snape made no comment, and Sampson didn't push it any further.

"How did you know that?" Lupin asked. Sampson shrugged.

"Heard it through the grapevine," he explained, before singing the exact same words. "Anyway, did I hear her name was Penny? Very pretty name, I must say..."

"Yeah," Harry replied. "Remus used to date her."

Lupin went very red indeed. Sampson laughed.

"Really?" he enquired. "You lucky, lucky boy." Sampson then proceeded to mime a curved figure with his hands. Lupin tutted.

"Is that all you've been thinking about?" he asked. Sampson nodded.

"Of course not! Any more than a handful's a waste, I always say..."

"Sampson, will you shut up!" Snape roared. Sampson raised his eyebrows, before mouthing, "Sorry," at Snape.

Suddenly, a loud vibrating noise drew Harry's attention to Sampson's hip. Sampson pulled at the money pouch that he wore on his belt, and pointed his wand at it. The object folded out until it resembled a large sheet of parchment, only it was black in colour. He frowned as he scanned whatever was written there. Then, his face cracked into a smile.

"They've found Alex," he explained. "She's alive. They're bringing her in for treatment ASAP." He looked across at Snape, who couldn't hide an expression of utter relief. "Coming, Severus?"

Snape looked at Persephone.

"It's okay," Harry found himself saying. "You go. I'll come and find you if there's any change."

Snape looked at him in an appraising fashion.

"Thank you, Potter- don't... don't leave her alone. In case she wakes up," he said, before following Sampson out of the room.

Once they had left, Lupin pulled up a chair and sat next to Harry. He too stroked a tendril of Persephone's white hair behind her ear.

"She'll be okay," he said. "She's made of strong stuff."

Harry smiled.

"I hope so," he replied.

"Well," Lupin commented, "it's nice to have a bit of good news. You saw it out there... I feel lucky I avoided anything more serious than a broken jaw and one moderate hex."

Harry scrutinised Lupin's face.

"You look okay," he said. Lupin nodded.

"Penny fixed me up in about five minutes," he explained. "I've got to take a potion for a few days, though."

"How come?" Harry asked. Lupin looked a little sheepish.

"For some reason, I keep coughing up hairballs," he replied.

The door to Persephone's not-so-private bed opened again, and this time it was Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville and Luna who entered.

"How is..." Hermione's query trailed off upon seeing Persephone lying unconscious on the hospital bed. Ginny clapped her hand to her mouth in horror.

"Merlin!" Neville exclaimed. "She looks awful!"

"It's bad," Harry said. "She's on every life-support spell known to wizards, and she can't breathe unassisted. The only good thing Bancroft could tell us was that her eyes are starting to return to their normal colour."

"Is that good, then?" Ron asked.

"Apparently so," Harry replied. Hermione nodded.

"It's a sign that the spirit of whatever's possessed someone hasn't fused with the body," she said.

"So," Ginny said quietly, "she'll get better?"

Harry shrugged.

"Don't know," he replied. Luna walked towards Persephone, and touched her head.

"She feels cold," she said. "Like she isn't in there."

Harry shuddered. Luna's honest comments reminded him of what had happened to Persephone.

"Well, we should remain optimistic," Lupin said. "It's very lucky that she's got to this stage."

Suddenly, Hermione snapped her fingers, and her expression switched instantly to one of triumph- almost as though somebody had flicked a switch.

"Of course; luck!" she exclaimed, before bolting out of the door, with Ron staring after her.

"Yeah; that explains a lot," he said, to nobody in particular. Neville stared hard at the corpse-like figure stretched out on the hospital bed.

"Why isn't Snape here?" he asked. "She is his daughter. Shouldn't she be watching her?"

"We got news of Alex- Professor Ridley," Lupin explained. "Apparently, she's alive, and in the hospital."

Neville looked astounded.

"How is that possible?" he enquired. "She was hit by the Killing curse, wasn't she?"

"Twice," Lupin countered, "and I don't know how it's possible."

"The Brethren have that weird armour, though," Ron queried. "It's different to the shield charmed stuff you guys have. Hermione reckons it draws curses away from the body."

"To a degree," Lupin explained. "I doubt it would block an Unforgivable, though."

At that moment, Sampson limped back into the room.

"News update," he said. "Alex is fine. Not a scratch."

"Wow! That is good news!" Ginny replied. Ron smirked.

"Jammy git," he joked. Sampson's expression became serious.

"Not quite," he said. "She's okay; the twins aren't."

Lupin looked concerned.

"How so?" he asked. Sampson sighed, and rubbed his left temple.

"Something to do with the Killing curse- it affects pregnant women differently, apparently. I guess one doesn't often feel the need to murder a heavily pregnant woman... Anyway, what can happen is that the foetus absorbs the impact of the Killing curse, it's all to do with placental links- stuff I don't really understand. Looks like both twins copped it from the two curses, and Alex survived," he explained. Ginny looked distraught.

"How is she coping?" she asked. "It must be horrible! She was nearly due, wasn't she?"

"She was six, seven months into her pregnancy," Sampson corrected. "She's very upset; naturally. Severus is with her- they've got to induce labour. You know, to get the bodies..."

"Stop," Ginny begged, clearly upset by his words. Harry, against his better wisdom, found himself pitying Snape once again. He didn't know what it was like to be a father, but to lose all your children- potentially, all your children- in one day must be horrendous.

"Why is Snape there?" Neville asked. "What's it to do with him?"

"Well, he is her husband. It's kind of a duty, so I'm told," Sampson replied blithely. Neville looked as though Sampson had just smacked him in the face with a frying pan.

"What? They're married!" he sputtered.

"Oh yeah; I forgot to mention that," Harry replied sheepishly. Neville rubbed his eyes.

"What... what's the matter with her? Why, in Merlin's name, would you want to marry him!"

"Long story," Harry replied. "Really long, and slightly scary, story."

"I think they're quite well suited," Luna commented dreamily, whilst she watched Persephone's chest rise and fall as the life-support spells forced her to breathe. Neville looked askance at her.

"What? How?" he exclaimed. Luna wasn't the slightest bit perturbed by Neville's frantic questioning.

"Well, they're both rather sad, aren't they?" she explained. "Snape has always looked like he's unhappy. When Ridley turned up, she seemed the same- she had that unhappy feeling about her, as though things had never quite been right in her life. They both seemed happier of late." She shrugged. "They probably make each other a bit happier, I suppose."

Everybody in the room fell silent; the only thing audible was the pinging of the life-support spells, indicating Persephone's relatively stable state.

"That's really sweet," Lupin commented eventually, breaking the silence.

At that point, Hermione burst into the room, carrying a small vial of deep purple coloured liquid and, inexplicably, a pack of cards. She was beaming.

"I've had an idea!" she exclaimed; her enthusiasm waned upon seeing everybody's expressions.

"What's the matter?" she asked. Ginny quietly told her the news, at which Hermione looked as though she was about to cry.

"Oh, how terrible!" she said softly. "She was so excited about them..."

"Snape's with her," Ron added. "She must be feeling even worse now."

Hermione glared at him.

"Oh, Ron- they're married for a reason, you know!"

"What's this idea, anyway?" Harry asked, eager to stop Hermione and Ron from bickering- a feat they accomplish so often, Harry thought they would clean up if it ever became a national sport.

"Oh, right," Hermione said, pointing to the vial. "I was looking at that spell book of the Snapes for ages over Christmas and so on; and it had more than that spell Persephone found. Things like love potions, poisons, camouflages..."

"Get to the point, Hermione," Ron said. Hermione looked at him in a slightly disparaging manner, but carried on with her explanation.

"Anyway," she continued, "there was also a spell for what appears to be a luck potion..."

"And, I'm guessing you managed to make some?" Harry enquired, with a smile. Hermione nodded.

"I don't know if it works, though," she added, looking expectantly at Harry, who rolled his eyes.

"Fine; I'll try it," he replied. Hermione handed him the vial.

"Only drink a tiny bit- we'll need the rest," she warned.

"What for?" Ron enquired. Hermione appeared reluctant to explain.

"Let's just see if this works first," she said, as Harry swallowed a small amount of the potion. It stung the back of his throat momentarily, and left him, bizarrely, with an aftertaste of blueberries. He didn't feel any different, though.

"Right," Hermione said, as she shuffled the pack of playing cards. "I need you to pick out all four aces in this pack."

"Erm, okay," Harry replied, as Hermione fanned the cards out, face down, and held them in front of him. He randomly picked four cards, and handed them back to her. She put the other cards to one side, and started revealing the faces of each card. Every last one was an ace.

Lupin looked impressed.

"That's incredible," he exclaimed. "The odds must be a million to one!"

"Two hundred and seventy thousand, seven hundred and twenty-five to one, apparently," Hermione explained. "Still, what a stroke of luck, hey?"

Lupin slowly beamed.

"It is, isn't it?" he replied, and Harry was at a loss as to what they both meant. Judging by the looks on everyone else's faces, he wasn't alone.

"Oh," Luna exclaimed, "you're going to give it Professor Beauchamp, aren't you?"

Hermione nodded, before looking at Harry.

"If it's okay with you, Harry," she half asked, half stated. Harry nodded.

"It's got to be worth a try," he replied. After all, she was lucky enough to escape death twice before...

Hermione gently prised the tube of red light that was in Persephone's mouth to the side; enough for her to drip the contents of the vial slowly into her mouth. In just a few moments, the vial was empty, and Persephone had swallowed it, courtesy of Lupin gingerly nudging her throat and inducing a swallowing reflex.

"Well, I suppose we'll know soon enough," Lupin said, as they all waited with baited breath. Harry felt a jolt in his stomach suddenly.

"I said I'd tell Snape if anything changed," he said. Lupin smiled.

"Well, nothing has changed yet," he replied, but he spoke too soon.

Suddenly, Persephone lurched forward, her green eyes wide and manic. Her breathing was laboured, and she appeared to be choking.

"What's happening?" Harry demanded, but Lupin was one step ahead of him, and had pressed the red emergency button.

"She's choking on the life-support spells," he said. "I can't remove them- only an authorised Healer can deactivate them without losing their hands."

The door swung open, and Bancroft sped towards the bed.

"What's happened?" she asked, quickly.

"She's choking..." Lupin didn't need to finish his sentence, for Bancroft was already in the process of removing all the spells. Once she had done so, she put a bedpan in front of Persephone, who threw up into it.

"Miss Beauchamp? Persephone?" Bancroft enquired, softly. Persephone looked at her, and nodded.

"How are you feeling?" Bancroft asked.

"Like death warmed up," Persephone growled, as though her vocal cords didn't work properly. Bancroft managed to smile.

"You're not far off with that explanation," she said. "You've been very lucky... I'll be back in two seconds; I just need to get the right equipment to test your physical condition- I think we'll need to take a look at your larynx, but that's a pretty routine operation."

Persephone nodded, just as Bancroft ran out of the room.

"What happened?" Persephone asked in that odd gravely voice. "Did we win?"

Harry smiled.

"Yeah, we did," he replied. "Do you want anything?"

Persephone mulled this over.

"I could murder a sandwich," she replied, with a smile. Then, her memories appeared to flood back, for she looked fretful.

"Dad," she said. "What did they do with his body? I can't leave him... He needs a funeral..."

"No he doesn't," Harry explained, "because he isn't dead."

Persephone looked bewildered.

"But, I saw it!" she exclaimed. Harry very quickly explained what that spell had done, before telling her that Snape had been sitting by her side all day, and that he was currently with Alex.

"What's up with Alex? Is she okay?" Persephone asked. Harry nodded.

"She's not hurt, but she's lost the twins," he explained, and Persephone looked crestfallen.

"Look, I'll just find him; I'll be back before you know it!" he insisted, before pelting out of the private room and onto the corridor.

A few moments later, and Harry caught sight of Snape walking along the corridor where the maternity ward was housed. The serene environment quite made Harry uncomfortable at shouting for him, so he followed, trying to catch up with Snape. He presumed he was going to the bathroom, or some such thing, so he was surprised when his journey ended at a heavily guarded room, where Aurors patrolled the area wearing grim expressions. He watched as Snape pointed his wand at himself, and walked past the Aurors without them so much as saying hello, never mind asking him what he was doing. Harry recognised the spell as an Interest charm, which causes anybody nearby to suddenly develop an interest in anything other than you, effectively rendering the charmed person invisible. Harry fumbled in his robe pocket, and found his Invisibility cloak- which he always seemed to carry about his person, in one form or another. He put it on, and followed Snape.

He slipped through the door Snape had entered, and saw, to his horror, that it was Tom Riddle's private hospital room. The Aurors alerted him to this, naturally, but there were many people being treated that may well have needed a little bit of protection, if only from the press.

"Severus; you came to visit me? I'm charmed, but you should be dead," Riddle said, in a croaky voice.

"I wanted to see what had become of you," Snape replied frostily. Riddle smiled.

"Do you like what you see?" he asked. Snape said nothing.

"There's something to be said for modern government," Riddle commented. "One hundred years ago, I'd have been hanged. Somehow, I think all I'm going to get is a stretch in Azkaban..."

"It'll be a very long stretch," Snape replied. "Possibly one with Dementors."

Riddle laughed.

"Don't be absurd, Severus- not with that Muggle-loving Minister we've got right now! He's very humanitarian, isn't he? Whether I still class as human, is debateable... Feel free to gloat, Severus," he goaded. Snape remained silent. Riddle nodded slowly.

"I see... You came to see if, perhaps, I felt any remorse, now that those... dehumanising transformations have been expelled from my being." He appeared to mull the concept over. "Nope," he replied, "I still feel the same. At least Azkaban will give me time to plan a way to return to my former glories, shall we say?"

Snape still remained silent; something which seemed to amuse Tom Riddle no end.

"Kneasle got your tongue?" he probed. "Severus, I don't know what you think you're going to achieve by walking in here with a group of Aurors out there protecting me- yes, protecting me- but I assure you, it won't change what's happened to you. True, I heard your wife didn't die; which is a crying shame. No matter, though. Your daughter is as good as, and your two little babies are dead. Face it, Severus, you just aren't cut out for fatherhood. You should take the hint." He chuckled softly at this.

To Harry's surprise, Snape looked overcome with emotion. Riddle laughed even harder at this.

"You are a very strange creature, Severus," he said. "I thought you were so full of hate- then, for a brief moment, I saw that lift. You may have even reached the giddy heights of happiness. Well, let me tell you now," he hissed. "I take great pleasure in knowing I have taken that away from you. And mark my words, once I've given these idiotic, filthy-blooded, poor excuses for wizards the slip, I'll be back."

"We'll see about that," Snape spat, and Harry could see him gripping his wand in his hand. Riddle laughed.

"You can't curse me in here, Severus- they'll trace it to you," Riddle goaded. "And what a waste? You won't get to see that dear mudblood wife of yours that I'm still planning to have killed."

"You have no powers," Snape angrily pointed out. "You're completely impotent."

"Where there's a will, there's a way," Riddle replied, smoothly. "I'd like to see you, of all people, try and stop me..."

To Harry's utter shock, Snape took Riddle at his word. He reached forward and put his hand over Riddle's face, gripping his nostrils together and smothering his mouth with the palm of his hand. Riddle started to struggle- soon enough, Harry saw the fear in his eyes when he realised that Snape was, in all possibility, going to go through with it. Riddle reached out for either the emergency button, or a vase, but Snape pinned his arm down with his free hand. A few moments later, Riddle coughed and wheezed his last. Snape had murdered him, defenceless and frail, and done it in cold blood. Harry watched as Snape surveyed Riddle, apparently to make sure he was dead, before stepping cautiously out of the room. Harry followed in his invisibility cloak, whipping it off when he was a good distance from the Aurors. He could see that Snape's spell had worn off, for the Aurors were rushing around, barking orders, presumably regarding their now dead prisoner.

Harry soon caught up with Snape, as he retraced his steps back to the maternity unit.

"She's okay," Harry gasped, upon reaching Snape. "She's awake."

Snape looked stunned.

"Really?" he managed to say, before making to return to the Intensive Care Unit. Harry followed him and, because he was a bit speedier on his feet, he was soon walking side by side. Snape did not look very happy.

"Are you going to tell anybody what you saw in there, Potter?" he enquired suddenly.

"I don't know what you mean," Harry lied. Snape stopped in the middle of the corridor.

"Don't lie to me, Potter. I know you were there; I nearly tripped up over you," he said harshly. Harry said nothing- he didn't really know what to say. He had found it difficult enough when he had thought he would have to kill Voldemort; the minute he heard that prophecy, and what it apparently meant, he had felt like a murderer. And he hadn't liked it one little bit.

"Oi!" a gruff voice called, and a small team of Aurors ran over to them, their wands poised.

"Were you anywhere near Riddle's cell?" one of them demanded of Snape. "I saw someone leave, just as he was found dead. Bit of a coincidence, isn't it?"

"I doubt it," Harry lied. "He was telling me off about playing Exploding Snap in the waiting room. Reckons it upsets the patients."

The Auror looked sceptical; but then he stared hard at Harry's lighting bolt scar, and apparently this meant his word was unimpeachable.

"Fine," he replied, before running off to join the small group of Aurors. Harry heard him say, "We're never going to find the bastard. Besides, who cares if he's dead, anyway?"

"We can't have people taking the law into their own hands!" another one retorted.

Snape looked warily at Harry.

"I never expected it of you," he admitted. Harry shrugged.

"If I was in your position," he replied, "I'd have probably done the same."

They walked towards the Intensive Care unit in silence.