DISCLAIMER: All characters seen here are the exclusive property of JK Rowling. She's the genius, I'm the fangirl who can't resist playing with her creations.

Chapter 25: Bad Blood Will Out

Petunia glared at him from across the room, red-eyed. He looked away, deciding that he didn't feel remorseful in the least. Let her cry and feel guilt-ridden. He'd spent most of his life doing that, and it was about time that she understood her culpability as well. He would have said all of those things long ago, if Dumbledore hadn't forbidden it.

Well, Dumbledore wasn't around anymore, and Petunia was, and if she was going to barge into an Order meeting and let her husband make an ass of himself, he certainly wasn't going to be the one to protect her feelings. Besides, Lily had released him, and any residual guilt he might have felt towards her sister was therefore easily dismissed. Her husband was not too stupid to realize that something had passed between him, and he had moved from pointedly ignoring everything to pointedly giving Severus dark looks whenever he thought Severus was looking.

Dursley glared at him again. Severus smirked.

"This meeting of the Order of the Phoenix will now commence," said Minerva, rising to her feet and leaning slightly on the cane that she still carried. The low background murmur of voices that had filled the room suddenly ceased, and all eyes moved to her. "Given recent events, I feel it would be expedient to dismiss with some of the usual protocol. Therefore, we will not be reading the minutes from the last meeting. They will be available after the meeting to those of you who wish to peruse them. Moving on to the first order of business, then—I yield the floor to Kingsley Shacklebolt."

He smiled in spite of himself. Since Minerva had taken over, Order meetings had assumed a new level of control and, well, order. Dumbledore had been content to let people shout and talk over one another. Minerva, on the other hand, insisted that things be quiet and regulated by a strict, if simple, set of rules.

"Thank you, Minerva," said Shacklebolt, rising to his feet and giving her a nod. "As you all know by now, the Jordan residence was attacked early this morning. To the best of my knowledge, the attack occurred roughly between the hours of three and four o'clock. Tim and Cecilia Jordan are dead, by means of the Killing Curse." He paused respectfully for a moment. "Their son, Lee, is in isolation at St. Mungo's. As of this morning, it is unclear whether or not he will survive."

A few people exchanged glances. The first time he'd heard the news, Severus had been so distracted by Petunia and her ridiculous family, and by the need to go and fetch Weasley a Calming Draught, that he hadn't really considered what it meant. Lee Jordan, hovering between life and death… one of his own students. It was that, more than anything else, which made him hate teaching. The knowledge that at any moment he might discover that Death Eaters had killed someone he'd spent years protecting and teaching was a constant strain on him. In his heart of hearts, he'd always rather enjoyed it when Jordan commentated at school Quidditch games, even if the boy did have an awful anti-Slytherin bias. He was dreadful at Potions, too, but he hadn't been bad in Defense at all.

He looked down, meticulously straightening his cuffs and keeping his face hidden behind the hair that fell around it, until he could compose himself again.

"Minerva, I know that the Mu—Harry's family are here on your invitation, but I wonder, is it wise for them to be present for the whole meeting?" asked Shacklebolt delicately. "The details about this attack are confidential, and I would prefer not to risk them being leaked."

Minerva pursed her lips. "What do you think, Harry?"

"Me?" Harry repeated blankly.

"They are your family," she said, lifting an eyebrow. "Do you feel they can be trusted with privileged information?"

"Well…"

"I'll leave," said Petunia's son (who Severus had begun thinking of as Dursley junior). They turned to him in surprise. "No point making Harry decide. It's need-to-know, isn't it? And we don't need to. I can't speak for mum and dad." He shot them a glance and shrugged. "But as for myself… well…"

"I will not be shuffled out of this meeting like some sort of second-class citizen," grunted Dursley senior. "Not after what it took to get us here."

Severus crossed his arms, sitting up a little straighter. "Dursley," he sneered, "as far as I'm concerned, you are a second-class citizen."

"Severus! You're out of line! Whatever your personal opinions on Muggles, you know the position of the Order on—"

"You misunderstand me, Minerva. This has nothing to do with whether or not he's a Muggle and everything to do with the fact that the man has no personal redeeming characteristics whatsoever."

"Severus! The Dursleys are our guests at this meeting and I will thank you not to be ruder than you can help."

"We'll go," said Petunia coldly. "Send Harry out to get us when you're ready." Although the words were polite enough, her tone was icy and offended.

Minerva, in a manner very reminiscent of her predecessor, chose to ignore the tone of voice and smiled pleasantly. "Thank you so much for understanding, Mrs. Dursley. As you must see, we're all in a very delicate situation here. There are spies everywhere, after all, and one can't be too careful."

Petunia looked more offended than ever. She sniffed loudly and grasped her meatloaf of a husband by the arm, tugging him towards the door. "Come, Dudley," she snapped over her shoulder. "You aren't wanted here."

"Er, actually, I'd like it if Dudley stayed."

Minerva, to her credit, managed to minimize the disbelief in her voice. "I—are you sure, Potter?" It was a toss-up as to who looked the most surprised—Minerva, Potter, or Dursley junior.

"Yeah." The boy's chin tilted up and he looked at her with mingled defiance and uncertainty. The expression was pure Lily, and Severus found himself wanting to laugh at the memories it brought back.

"Very well, then. Dudley, you may stay, since your cousin vouches for you. Mr. and Mrs. Dursley—well, this is rather awkward. We'll send someone for you when it's appropriate. If you require anything, let Kreacher know and he'll attend to your needs."

They walked out, looking more offended than ever. Dursley junior watched them go, breathing an audible sigh of relief the moment they were through the door. His whole demeanor seemed to change, in fact, and he suddenly looked much more like Potter's cousin and much less like—well, like a pig in a wig.

"I hope that settles everything to your satisfaction, Kingsley. Can we proceed?"

"If Harry vouches for his cousin, then yes. As I said—"

He was interrupted by a loud shriek. Teddy Lupin, his hair now an eye-searing shade of green, had begun inexplicably screaming in Molly Weasley's lap. She and Ginny, who was standing directly beside her, attempted to console him, but nothing seemed to work. Finally, Andromeda stood up. Severus shivered. She really did bear an uncanny resemblance to Bellatrix. It always startled him, if he looked at her too quickly.

"I apologize," she said softly. "I'll remove my grandson."

"No," said Molly. "Let Percy do it. They've developed quite a bond, Perce and little Teddy, and they won't be seeing each other much after tonight." There was a hint of a sniffle in her voice at the end of the sentence. Andromeda frowned a bit, but she nodded and Teddy was handed off to the thin, bespectacled former Head Boy. To everyone's surprise except Molly and Ginny's, Teddy immediately stopped crying.

Shacklebolt waited until they were gone before continuing: "Tim and Cecilia were put to death by means of the Killing Curse. That, at least, seems to have been quite perfunctory. There's no evidence that they were tortured beforehand or injured in any other way."

Severus felt a hint of sensation in his stomach that he knew could swiftly become nausea. Something about the way that Shacklebolt said it made him sure that he could guess what he would hear next.

Unfortunately, he wasn't far wrong.

"Lee, on the other hand, is still alive. We believe that this is because his attacker was interrupted in the process of torturing him."

"Attacker?" said Aberforth sharply. He, too, was someone Severus couldn't look at too quickly. The eyes riveted him. Albus' eyes.

"There is no evidence of more than one," said Shacklebolt slowly. His voice was level and even, as it always was. It seemed to lend a tone of clinical detachment to the scene he described and he never faltered, even for a moment.

"In fact, there is no evidence of a struggle at all. It appears that Lee Jordan was attacked by someone he knew and recognized as a friend. Had there been more than one, I doubt that they would have fled after killing Tim and Cecilia, but Lee's attacker did. I believe that whoever it was panicked."

"Jordan was their target, then?" asked Minerva in a choked voice. The Minister—how odd, thinking of him like that—looked at her and nodded. Severus glanced at Ron and George Weasley, who were sitting side-by-side. George was white, but calm. Ron's face was visibly furious.

"Probably some sort of retribution for his work on the radio broadcast. His voice was quite easily recognizable, to anybody familiar with the family or with Hogwarts. It wouldn't be hard to discover his identity, or to find him, since he returned home after the Battle."

Shacklebolt's eyes moved to Severus for just a moment. "It is my belief that the attacker intended for Lee Jordan to be dead before he left the scene. We were readily able to recognize the use of Incarcerous, Cruciatus, and Sectumsempra. Auror Proudfoot—" he nodded to the young Auror, who had arrived only moments before the beginning of the meeting "—Tells me that St. Mungo's has since identified several more. I yield the floor to him."

Proudfoot stood up. Severus remembered him quite well. He was a short, stocky Hufflepuff, and possessed of an enormous quantity of brown, curly hair. Surprisingly good at Potions—had even managed to achieve Exceeds Expectations on his NEWT in the subject.

"According to the Healers, Jordan was subjected to a surprising range of spells, some of which were used in very unusual and surprisingly precise ways. As the Minister already mentioned, Sectumsempra was used, in this case to remove his ears." Severus caught a jerky movement out of the corner of his eye as George Weasley's hand flew to the side of his head. He winced; he'd forgotten that.

"His… his hands were removed by use of the Reductor Curse. I'm not quite sure how he—the attacker—did it. Jordan was on the floor, but there was minimal damage underneath him. The curse was very carefully targeted."

"Someone used Reducto on his hands?" breathed Ginny Weasley, sounding horrified. Several heads turned in her direction, and she flushed, ducking her head with an embarrassed look.

"Yes," said Proudfoot grimly. He looked rather horrified himself, in fact. "And his feet, actually. His arms and legs were subjected to a Stretching Jinx, to the point of complete dislocation of all joints. And his tongue," he paused, licking his lips uncomfortably, "was attached to the roof of his mouth with what the Healers believe was some variation on a permanent sticking charm."

Once again, Severus looked to the Weasley boys. George was still white, and he looked horrified, but the Calming Draught was working to good effect. Ron was decidedly green, and Severus thought that the boy would probably vomit if there were much more to hear. Behind them, Potter was whispering furiously to his cousin, apparently explaining the meaning and effect of the spells that Proudfoot was listing. Slowly, he let his gaze wander to Granger.

Her face, too, was white, but there was no nausea and no false calm there. She seemed to have been turned to stone. One of her hands was clenched into a fist and rested on her lips. The other hand he couldn't see, for she'd wrapped her arm around herself, squeezing tightly. He was suddenly tempted to use Legilimency on her, or at least to try. He couldn't maintain eye contact across a room full of strangers, and she'd notice if he tried, but he knew that he'd picked up on her emotions involuntarily before. Perhaps he could do so intentionally, if he tried.

He forced himself to look away and focus on Proudfoot's recitation instead.

"The Healers inform us that they won't be able to un-cleave his tongue from his palate, short of literally carving it away. It's unclear whether they'd be able to re-grow it if they did so. From the nerve damage and systemic reactions he is now suffering, it's evident that he was also subjected to the Cruciatus curse multiple times, probably while petrified and silenced. His parents were unarmed, and their wands were found in the house, untouched. We believe they stumbled across the torture quite inadvertently."

He licked his lips again, a nervous habit that Severus recalled him being subject to as a student as well. "Also—there were some injuries to his torso. He suffered third-degree burns to his chest and stomach. We believe they were caused by Flagrate, or possibly Incendio, but if it was the latter, then whoever did it had to be quite talented."

"Why?" asked a voice. Severus didn't note whose it was.

"Because the burn site was very carefully limited and controlled—to form an image of the Dark Mark."

"Jesus Christ," said Dursley junior. Severus quite agreed.

0 0 0

"Jesus Christ," said Dudley. Hermione quite agreed.

"Who?" asked Ron under his breath. Hermione slapped the side of his head lightly.

"Don't be disrespectful," she hissed.

"I wasn't!"

"He's—I can't explain it right now, Ron, it would take too long." Sometimes the ignorance of pureblood wizards annoyed her hugely. She was usually able to forgive it, but something that flagrant went beyond naivete and right into ridiculous ignorance.

"Shut up!" said Ginny in an undertone. They did.

Kingsley Shacklebolt had stood up again, giving his Auror and approving nod and allowing the poor young man to return to his seat. He looked horribly shaken, and Hermione wondered if he'd known Lee personally. He looked young enough to have been around at least when Lee was a first year, although she had no clue what House he'd been in.

"The press has not yet discovered the attack, but I am in no doubt that it will get out soon. I plan to speak with The Daily Prophet and The Quibbler as soon as possible and give them an official statement. None of the classified details, but news of the deaths and that Jordan is in critical condition. He's to be kept under strict lock and key while we investigate. If he pulls through, whoever is responsible may try to finish the job. That's all the relevant information for now. Naturally, I'll keep the Order informed of any new developments."

"Thank you, Kingsley," said Minerva, her voice tightly controlled. "Next order of business—we've compiled a list of known Death Eaters who are still at large. Unfortunately, it isn't exhaustive, but it's plenty to be going on with for now. The thing that we have to contend with now is that those who are still in Britain will be attempting to flee. Voldemort may have fallen, but he had sympathizers across the world, and his followers will find support and shelter in other countries."

Hesitantly, Ron raised his hand. Professor McGonagall offered him a tired smile. "You have a question, Ron?"

"Are they really going to find support in other countries? I mean, don't they understand? About the Death Eaters, I mean?"

"Unfortunately, not all of them do. In terms of governments, I don't know of any country whose Wizarding authorities supported Voldemort openly, but movements like his will always find supporters. If they can reach those supporters, it's likely that the fleeing Death Eaters will be able to disappear from sight completely and live in hiding.

"Those of you who are not currently attending school will meet with Kingsley and myself after the meeting to discuss assignments. Which brings me to the next item on our agenda—officially swearing in our new members."

Harry frowned. "Wait, what about those of us who are attending school?"

"It is vital, vital for you to complete NEWT-level training in your selected subjects, Potter. As far as the Order is concerned, that's top priority for all of you. Now then, if you'll all stand up and raise your wands." Hermione stole a glance at her friends. They looked proud and a little frightened, but each of them steadily held their wand aloft. She raised her own as well, hoping that her fear and self-doubt would be hidden from them.

They repeated the oath of allegiance after Professor McGonagall, swearing to serve the Head of the Order, to obey the commands they were given, and to fight against Voldemort and his followers until such time as the world was no longer under threat from them. Afterwards, there was a great deal of hand-shaking and back-patting, and many tears from Mrs. Weasley, who seemed determined to crush them all with the force of her embrace.

When everyone sat down again, she found herself sitting a little straighter. Finally, she was a bona fide member of the Order of the Phoenix. Now if only her head would stop aching, life might be something she could survive for another day.

0 0 0

While everyone else was busy crowding around the Gryffindors with praise and congratulations, Severus discreetly removed the headache potion from his robes and swallowed it. The potion took five minutes to work. When it did, blessed relief followed, and the throbbing pain behind his eyes disappeared. Years as a spy had left him with a habit of constantly checking and re-checking the configuration of rooms and the state of their inhabitants. As he took stock of his surroundings once again, he noticed vaguely that Granger suddenly seemed to sit up straighter, and a bit of the pallor left her face. The Weasley girl whispered something to her and she nearly even smiled.

"And finally," said Minerva, raising her hands to silence the Weasleys, who were still busily congratulating their son and daughter on joining the Order, "Dudley. Will you fetch your parents, please?"

The huge, hulking boy got up and lumbered towards the door. If Petunia had set out on purpose to choose the least wizard-like name she could find, Dudley Dursley seemed to be very close to an achievement of that goal. No wonder he couldn't bloody remember it. No sane person would name a child something like Dudley.

Dudley (he repeated the name to himself a few times) led his parents back into the room and held a chair for his mother while she seated herself. At least one of the brats she'd raised had something that might pass for manners.

Minerva looked at them soberly. "It is my understanding that you wish to leave our protection."

Dudley senior made an angry grumbling noise. "We wish to be released from our incarceration and allowed to return to the real world."

"Incarceration?" said Hestia testily. "You agreed to this."

"Under duress!" he snarled. "And now that Lord What's-his-name is dead, I see no reason for this charade that you call 'protection' to continue."

He should have brought some headache potion for Minerva as well. She looked like she needed it. "Mr. Dursley, although Lord Voldemort has been killed—by your nephew, I might add—there is still a significant threat from those of his followers who either escaped the so-called final battle or were not present for it at all. At this point, they have nothing to lose. There is no doubt in my mind that most of them would kill you if they knew that you existed, or where to find you. Being Harry's aunt and uncle is enough of a crime in their eyes to warrant your murder even if you weren't Muggles. The only question is whether they'd torture you first, and for how long."

Petunia cringed. Her husband smiled nastily. "In that case, we are fully prepared to disown him legally and permanently. He's of age, there's no reason for us to retain any connection to him."

A murmur passed through the gathering. He shouldn't be surprised, he reminded himself. After all, the man was married to a woman who'd slept with Lucius Malfoy and, he suspected, maybe even fallen in love with him. Anybody who Petunia was willing to marry had to be nearly as twisted as she was.

Surprising that she'd never shown much interest in him, come to think of it.

Anger was beginning to stir in Minerva's eyes. "I don't think now is the time to speak like that, Mr. Dursley. Emotions are running high; you don't want to say things you don't mean."

"Don't you talk to me about what I do and do not mean! I have never wanted any part of this business. I told Petunia at the very beginning, we should have sent the boy to an orphanage, or to live with some freak family that would deal with him and keep him away from us. The boy is of age, any supposed responsibility we had to him has clearly run out, and I want no further association with him."

The way Potter looked at his uncle indicated to Severus that the boy wasn't surprised in the slightest to hear this. He wondered how many times it had been said before. There was zero physical resemblance, but Petunia apparently had managed to find a psychological replica of Tobias Snape… the very worst kind of Muggle.

"Very well. However, it is not that simple. You may legally disown him, but blood cannot be disowned, Mr. Dursley, and your legal status will not matter to the Death Eaters."

"I'm tired of these scare tactics. We've been staying in that godforsaken house for over a year and I haven't heard so much as a whisper of a Death Eater."

Severus raised his eyebrows. "Minerva, may I speak?"

"By all means, Severus."

He stood up, using his height as much as he could to his advantage and staring at Petunia's worthless lump of a husband down the bridge of his nose. "Dursley, you're a fool."

"Severus! I didn't give you leave to speak so that you could resume your verbal abuse of Harry's uncle!"

"I am doing no such thing, Minerva. I am informing him of a cold, hard fact." He took a step closer to the Dursleys, who shrank back slightly. "For my entire adult life, I have been privy to the plans and machinations of Death Eaters. The last year was not an exception. Rest assured, if they could have found and killed you, they would have."

He paused for a moment and then allowed himself a cruel smile. "Lucius Malfoy in particular wished to pay you both a little visit." Petunia flinched again.

Dursley grunted. "I don't give a damn what this Luscious fellow thinks. What sort of a God-awful transvestite name is that, anyway?"

The question was so absurd that Severus could not answer it at first. By the time he'd regrouped from the mental image that it presented (and he did not enjoy the thought of Lucius in a miniskirt), Petunia had jumped in.

"He's a Death Eater." Her voice was hard and angry—whether with Severus, Lucius, or her husband, Severus couldn't tell.

"How do you know that?"

"Because I—Severus told me."

Her husband's eyes narrowed so much that they nearly disappeared into the fat that surrounded them. "Why?"

She flushed unpleasantly. "I used to know him."

"What do you mean, you used to know him? May I ask when you were forming all of these friendships with wizards, Petunia? You always gave me to believe that you'd stayed well away from those types." He'd begun using a tone of voice that Severus recognized all too well. Petunia didn't seem to hear the warning in it, or if she did, she was too angry to care. Everybody else was staring at her, dumbfounded by the revelation that she was acquainted with Lucius.

Severus glanced at Granger and her pack of friends. Apparently not everyone was staring at Petunia after all. Instead, they were all looking very carefully at the floor, except for Granger herself, who was whispering furiously in Potter's ear.

"It was a long time ago, Vernon," she said testily.

"Please," interrupted Minerva gently. "This isn't the time or the place for a private discussion between husband and wife. We must decide whether or not you are to stay under our protection."

"I positively refuse," said Dursley flatly. "Furthermore, I am disowning the boy. Now. I don't imagine that you Wizarding types have any sort of formal paperwork that needs to be filled out, but rest assured that when I get back to the Mug—damn it, the real world, I will legally sever all ties with him posthaste."

Minerva frowned unhappily. "Is there anything we can say to induce you to change your mind, Mr. Dursley? You are in grave danger. We cannot and will not force you to remain against your will, but—"

"No. I refuse to stay in that madhouse any longer…or in this one, for that matter. Petunia, Dudley, we're leaving. Now."

"No." Petunia's voice was so soft as to be almost unrecognizable, but it was terribly, decidedly firm. Severus couldn't remember ever having heard her speak in that tone before. Judging by the look on his face, her husband had never heard it before either.

He froze, staring at her. "What?"

"No, Vernon. I'm staying."

"Are you mad?"

"I won't disown… Harry." It seemed to cost her a great deal to say this, and she didn't appear to be happy about it in the slightest. "And I won't put Dudley in danger by leaving before they tell us it's safe."

His mouth fell open slightly. "You are mad."

"No," she said waspishly. "I'm just not as stupid as you are."

"For the last time, will you come with me or not?"

"No!"

"Very well." His face grew hard. "Then I'll leave without you. Come, Dudley."

"No."

"Dudley Dursley, I am your father and you will obey me!"

"I'm staying with Harry."

Vernon Dursley, faced with a full-scale revolution amongst his family members, looked momentarily nonplussed. After a few seconds, however, he scowled angrily. "I should have known that you'd end up siding with her and all these other freaks. Bad blood will out, won't it, Petunia? Very well, you've clearly made your choice."

Petunia said nothing, pursing her lips in a manner very reminiscent of Minerva.

"Vernon, please," said Dedalus Diggle. "This is a mistake. Your life is at risk."

"Let him go!" Petunia burst out in a very shrill voice. "There's no point in arguing with him."

"Siding with them, are you?"

"I'm protecting our son!"

He glared at her. "You're a liar. I refuse to stay here any longer. Let me out!"

"You really are determined to do this, then?" asked Minerva—unnecessarily, Severus felt. The man had already made it glaringly obvious that he'd rather die than be around magic for another second.

"I am."

"We will do what we can to keep the information from leaking out, but I can make you no promises. We can make arrangements for you—"

"No. I'm leaving now, and I never want to hear from any of you people again."

Dedalus stood up, looking pained. "I'll just show you to the door then, shall I?"

"Don't you dare come any nearer to me. You're just as insane as the rest of them, Diggle, if not worse. I'll bloody well show myself out. As if I couldn't find my way around London without your help!"

"Dad," said Dudley quietly. "Don't leave."

Dursley drew himself up imperiously. The effect was poor. "I am sorry that you have put me in this position, Dudley. Remember that it was by your own choice that you and I part ways."

"Get out!" shouted Petunia, suddenly jumping to her feet. "Get out and spare us from having to listen to any more of this pigheaded idiocy! Go run to your precious Margie and tell her how she was right all along about me! Go to hell, for all I care, but for God's sake, go!"

Dursley sputtered for a moment, but apparently he could come up with no appropriate rejoinder to that, so he merely turned on his heel and barged out, shoving Arthur Weasley aside as he did so.

"Petunia…" whispered Hestia, looking stricken.

Petunia spun around, staring wild-eyed at all of them. "Not a word from any of you! Not a word! First my sister and now my husband—if I never hear another word about magic again, it will be too soon!"

Dudley Dursley elbowed Potter out of the way and took his mother's arm. "C'mon, mum. Let's go to the kitchen and I'll make you some tea."

"I don't want tea," she said flatly.

"A sandwich, then. Let's go." Nobody spoke as Dudley led his mother from the room. As the door closed behind them, Severus thought he heard her start crying again. For an accidental second, he caught Granger's eye, and he was suddenly inundated with a rush of pity and sadness.

Bloody soft-hearted Gryffindors.

0 0 0

The meeting didn't last long after Mrs. Dursley's emotional exit. They discussed the new wards that were being arranged for Hogwarts. Proudfoot, Aberforth, Bill, Charlie, Fleur and Sturgis all gave brief progress reports on assignments that they'd been pursuing. Professor McGonagall read out a written report owled to her by two new members on assignment in France, Vega Tibb and Waldo Bagget.

Afterwards, Harry and Ron dragged her over to talk to Professor McGonagall and Minister Shacklebolt.

"I'm sorry, Potter, it's just not possible," said Shacklebolt seriously. "As Minerva explained, it is very important that you complete your training. After that, we'll be more than happy to put you on assignment, but school is your first priority right now."

Harry scowled. "We spent an entire year 'on assignment' without NEWTs, and came out right in the end."

"Yes, but you were acting under orders. You have new orders now."

"Well, I don't like them."

Professor McGonagall smiled wryly. "Perhaps you should have considered that before taking an oath to obey them."

"Harry's right though," Ron said. "We all three of us have proved that we can make it. We're not asking to leave school, but surely there's something we can do on—on weekends, or something!"

Hermione decided she'd had enough. "Ronald, weren't you listening in the meeting? People are hunting for Death Eaters all over Britain. They're being sent to other countries, even. That's not something you can do on weekends!"

"What about Christmas holidays, then?"

"Ron, drop it."

Professor McGonagall smiled. "I admire your desire to help, you three. I know it's not terribly glamorous, but I'm sure there will still be assignments in June, and if you want Kingsley to consider you for the Aurory, you'd better start demonstrating that you can follow orders now."

She looked across the room, to the spot where Professor Snape was standing, engaged in conversation with Auror Proudfoot. "Professor Snape needs to return his car to Manchester, but he's volunteered to Apparate back to Hogwarts and escort you back to the castle, first. Get your things together. You'll want to hurry if you intend to get back in time for dinner."

Hermione and Neville were the only ones who had anything to collect, and by the time she'd returned back downstairs with her knapsack, everyone else had already donned cloaks, scarves, hats and gloves.

"—Send you an owl," Harry was saying to Dudley. "When I know if Professor McGonagall will let you visit."

"That white one?"

"Oh…" Harry stiffened a little. "No. She's… well, there was a battle…"

"Oh. Sorry, Harry, I didn't know."

Harry shrugged awkwardly. "It's ok. You weren't to know. I'll send a school owl and we'll see if you can come spend Christmas at Hogwarts."

"You could spend it with mum and me."

"I'm not sure Aunt Petunia would like that."

She couldn't say what it was that alerted her to Professor Snape's presence. She just knew, suddenly, that he was in the room. She turned and, indeed, he was standing in the doorway, dressed once again in his Muggle clothes. Ron gaped, until Ginny poked him forcefully with the butt end of her wand and hissed that he was being rude. Hermione only blinked and looked away. She wasn't used to it, exactly, but the initial shock had passed.

"If you are all done gawking," he said smoothly, "it is time to return you to the school. School records indicate that you have all passed Apparition training. I will wait here until you have all successfully Disapparated. If I arrive at the Apparition point and find that any of you have left it without waiting for me to escort you, it will be detention."

0 0 0

Longbottom was the last to Disapparate, and Severus followed him immediately. In a rare show of obedience, all five students had remained exactly where they ought, waiting for him. He drew his wand and looked around cautiously, checking for any obvious signs of watchers.

"You will walk up to the castle. I will accompany you. Wands out, and go two by two. No stragglers."

Longbottom gave him a curious look. "Do you expect us to be attacked, sir?"

"What I expect or do not expect is irrelevant, Longbottom. Death Eaters will not inform you beforehand of their plans, and if someone has gone after Lee Jordan, you can rest assured that you, too, are a potential target. Even the grounds of Hogwarts are not necessarily safe, as the Battle last spring should have taught you."

They started for the castle, pairing off quickly as they walked up. Potter grabbed Ginevra Weasley none too subtly by the hand and her brother started purposefully in Miss Granger's direction. She hung back, however, and neatly sidestepped him, forcing Weasley to walk with Longbottom and Severus to walk with her. It was not an ideal arrangement. Nor was it a surprising one, he supposed.

And it definitely wasn't surprising that she couldn't make it from the Apparition point to the Entrance Hall without talking.

"Professor?"

"Yes, Miss Granger?"

"I was just wondering, er, why did you mention blood potions last night?"

At least it was an academic question, although it was one he wasn't necessarily sure he had an answer for. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, sir," she seemed to hesitate. "It's not on the syllabus until the very end. I didn't expect we'd start covering them until nearly the end of the year."

"Ah." Why had he begun talking about blood potions? She'd been disturbingly upset and he'd simply started talking about the first thing that came into his mind. "I merely thought you would find it interesting. Surely the material was not above your head."

"Oh. No, sir. It was just a coincidence, that's all."

"Coincidence?" He was careful not to look at her.

"It's only…" there was a note of apprehension in her voice. He wondered why. "Only I'd been thinking of them myself already, and then you brought them up."

"Indeed," he murmured repressively. She didn't say any more.

They reached the castle without further conversational mishap and he watched them disappear through the double doors with a feeling of relief. No need to see any more of her for the rest of the day. He'd had enough of Granger. In fact, he'd had enough of everyone.

But it was very obvious that tomorrow, he'd need to speak with Dumbledore about her.

Author's Notes: Still sick. Still working overtime. Still really tired. But still writing! I win!

Reviewers, thank you so much. Your response to the last two chapters was beyond humbling. I'm running out of creative ways to tell you I appreciate you, but I do. So so so much.

Poor Lee Jordan.. I hated to do that to him, but he was just such a logical target.

As to Dudley and Harry... now that Harry's had some time to get over the shock of the fact that Dudley wants to be nice to him, I believe he'll end up latching on to Dudley the way he would with ANY potential family member who gave him the time of day. He's starved for that type of relationship, after all. And as for Dudley.. it's got to be difficult being dragged away from your home and friends and thrown into a world that's entirely alien to you, and where you're basically kept under house arrest. He's got to be relieved to see Harry, who he was starting to like anyway. I like to think they'd become friends and that Dudley could become a less awful person.