Harry stared at the purple velvet before him, feeling a bit numb to it all.

"Harry?" Hermione's voice muttered in his right ear. "Are… are you alright?" He took a deep breath before he took off his glasses and tucked them under his coat.

"I'm ready." He declared. There was silence for a moment before Hermione cleared her throat.

"Places everyone." She declared. There was a quiet shuffling then as several people moved into position. Then the curtain slowly opened as the plucky sound of a lute drifted up from the orchestra pit. Harry took a deep breath before he limped out onto the stage. With one scanned eye of disdain towards the crowd of shadowed faces before him, he took a shuddered breath and delivered the first line

"Now the winter of our troubles has been transformed into glorious summer by the ascension of my brother, King Edward IV, son of the house of York."

Emmeline watched with slight awe as the performance continued.

"Goodness!" She muttered before turning to charity "you said he was good, not spectacular!"

"You're biassed," Rolanda argued as she watched, though it was holding her attention too rapt for Emmeline to do much more than roll her eyes.

"Septima… are you sure that isn't… gauche?" Aurora asked nervously.

"No." The arithmancy professor insisted with a sniff "I do believe she would be just as insistent as Mr. Potter was."

"What?" Emmeline asked, "What do you mean?"

"Well many of the others thought that perhaps we ought to cancel the show," Septima explained. "But Mr. Potter insisted that the show must go on." Emmeline worried her bottom lip then.

"We all grieve in our own way Emm," Severus murmured to her comfortingly. "This is Harry's way."

A chuckle rumbled through the crowd of students just as Harry made a lewd gesture to accompany a line steeped in innuendo. Emmeline winced.

"Good thing Albus set the age limit to third years." Rolanda joked with a snicker.

"Maybe he should have set it higher!" Professor Sinistra argued with a frown.

"Oh don't be such a stick in the mud Aurora!" Bathsheda argued with a laugh. The astronomy professor frowned at her colleagues as Roland, Charity and Bathsheda all giggled behind their hands at her expense.

Suddenly the lute player trailed off as Harry was alone on the stage again, his sly little smile falling away with a scowl of distaste. Then he turned to the crowd.

"I hope the king won't survive. But he mustn't die until Clarence is sent off to heaven by the quickest route. I'll go in and incite the king to more hatred against Clarence, using lies backed up by sound reasoning. And if I don't fail in my plan, then Clarence won't live even one more day. Once that's done, God can take King Edward to heaven as soon as he wants, and leave the world for me to run around in. For then I'll marry Warwick's youngest daughter, Lady Anne Neville. What does it matter that I killed her husband and her father? The best way to make it up to the girl is to become her new husband and father. I'll do that then, not out of love for her, but because it's part of my secret plan. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Clarence is still breathing. Edward still lives and reigns as king. I can only count my gains when they're dead."

A chill ran down Emmeline's spine then. Her son's face held nothing but cold contempt. Then slowly the curtain closed again, to an eerily silent crowd.

"Goodness…" Charity murmured worriedly. "M-maybe Aurora was right. He's going to give the poor children nightmares!"

Suddenly a spot light shone into the orchestra and a tall Ravenclaw stood and lifted a violin and began playing the first few bars of some melancholy song that maybe everyone's hearts clench. Then the curtain opened and several actors walked on, carrying a prop funeral bier.

"That's why they wanted my help with golems." Babbling remarked in slight awe. "What a brilliant idea!" Then Millicent Bulstrode walked on, which made a small disturbance go through the few Slytherins that had deigned to show up. Probably because, and Severus would agree with them, she looked more delicate and feminine than she ever had before (and probably ever would since). Additionally, she was freely weeping, with a melancholy expression that forced empathy on even the most heartless in the crowd.

"Set down, set down your honourable load, men—if honour can be shrouded in a coffin—while I solemnly mourn the early death of virtuous Henry." Millicent delivered with a passionate sadness. The crowd watched as she lamented over the facsimile of a corpse on the stage, with a few well-placed sobs and sniffs to accompany the tears. As her soliloquy ended she let out a heart broken sigh and stood again.

"Come now, guards, continue on towards Chertsey Abbey, where this holy burden—which you picked up at Saint Paul's cathedral—will be laid to rest," she said to her costars. The veiled cast members nodded and went to lift the coffin once more when suddenly Harry walked onto the stage. A quiet protest went through the younger crowd then, with most of the Gryffindors and Hufflepuff having the deepest scowls.

"Well, he's managed to convince everyone of his villainy pretty quickly," Minerva murmured worriedly.

"I'm quite certain all of the students know he's just acting," Severus assured her. Even still the scowls turned to confused groans had Harry delivered his lovelorn speech to an increasingly distressed Millicent. When he drew his sword the crowd let out a gasp which turned into a slight murmur of awe as he placed it in Millicent's hand and held it against his chest.

"No, don't pause. For I did kill King Henry—though your beauty provoked me to do it. Now go ahead. I was the one who stabbed young Edward—though your heavenly face that drove me to it." He swore with a lovesick expression that made even Severus scoff. Millicent's hand wavered before Harry corrected it again. "Take up the sword again, or else take me."

"Stand up, liar. Though I wish you were dead, I won't be your executioner." Millicent declared with a frown not quite as contemptuous as she had at the beginning of the scene.

"Then tell me to kill myself, and I will do it," Harry swore as he rose to his feet, with some played-up difficulty.

"I have already." Millicent cried with a roll of her eyes.

"You said it in a rage. Say it again, and as soon as you finish speaking, my hand—which killed your lover out of love for you—will kill your far truer lover. You will be the cause of both these deaths." Harry swore with a hand over his heart, even as he drew the dagger from his hip. Millicent took a step back and her expression grew weary.

"I wish I knew what was in your heart." She declared.

"The same thing that was in my words," Harry assured her. Millicent looked a bit ill now.

"I fear that both your heart and your words are false."

"Then no man has ever been honest."

"Why were you worried about the performance being gauche Aurora? It's been wonderful so far!" Pomona asked softly

"Because Miss. Bulstrode was not the original Lady Anne." Septima explained softly.

"Tracey Davies was."

The teacher all sucked in a breath. Pomona's expression grew sad before she reached forward and placed a hand on Severus' shoulder.

"I'm sorry dear."

"Thank you," Severus murmured softly. He swallowed and his knuckles tightened on his knee as he scowled ahead.

He was getting really sick and tired of losing students to this goddamn war.

What hurt more was that he knew deep down that Tracey Davies would be forgotten before long.

Just another Slytherin that went astray.

It made him so angry and defeated.

Because no matter how much he would try to make her known no one would be able to see past the animal on her chest.

Who even thought four houses were a good idea anyway?!

Oh right…

"Curse you, Salazar." Severus muttered under his breath. "And curse you Godric for making it easier." Emmeline reached over and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze which he smiled to gratefully. Then he turned back to the stage just in time to see Harry watching the fake corpse getting walked off the stage with a sad expression. As soon as he was alone on stage he smirked and turned to the crowd with a terribly triumphant gleam in his eye.

"Has a woman in such a mood ever been courted? Has a woman in such a mood ever been won? I'll get her, but I won't keep her long. How can it be that I—who killed her husband and his father—should win her over at the moment she hates me the most? When her mouth was full of curses, her eyes full of tears, and the bloody corpse of my victim right in front of her? She has God, her conscience, and the evidence of my deeds against me, and I have nothing to back me up but the devil and my own false looks! And yet I won her over, with all odds against me! Ha! Has she already forgotten her brave husband Prince Edward, whom I stabbed in an angry mood three months ago at the Battle of Tewkesbury? The world will never again be able to afford a man like him: such a sweet and lovely gentleman, blessed with all of nature's gifts. He was young, brave, wise, and no doubt meant to be king one day. And now she's going to cheapen herself by turning her eyes on me, who cut short her sweet prince's life and made her a widow in mourning? On me, though I'm less than half of the man that Edward was? On me, who limps along, deformed like this? I'd bet my dukedom on a beggar's penny that I've been wrong about myself all this time! Upon my life, she finds me to be a proper, handsome man—though I can't see it. I should buy a mirror and employ twenty or so tailors to study the current fashions and dress me up. Since I like myself now, it will be worth the cost. But first I'll dump this fellow into his grave and then return, weeping, to my love. Shine out, fair sun, so I can watch my shadow as I pass—until I've bought a mirror to admire my reflection."

Then the curtain fell as a few professors shuddered.

"Goodness… is it just me or did it just get pretty chilly?" Pomona asked with a slight chuckle.

"Your son really is a spectacular actor." Aurora declared. Severus gave a slow nod of pride.

The play continued, with a big success. People cheered for Lovegood's queen Margret and laughed at Fred and George Weasley's bumbling murder attempt which seemed less like a sinister political machination and more a slapstick. Then they sneered as Richard seized the throne, and Severus even thought he heard someone wail when Lee Jordan played the part of Tyrnell and described the vile murder of the princes in the tower.

It was into the final scenes now, and everyone was on the edge of their seats.

"Won't King Richard let me speak with him?!" Blaise delivered, with a bit more panic in his voice than the line really deserves, grabbing Dean Thomas as the boy played the sheriff, and shoved him away.

"No, my good lord. So calm down."

"Oh, Hastings; Edward's children; Grey and Rivers; holy King Henry and your fair son Edward; Vaughan; and all who have died because of underhanded, corrupt, foul injustice—if your angry souls still cannot rest and are witnessing this scene through the clouds, then enjoy your revenge and mock my destruction!" Blaise lamented. Then suddenly his eyes went far away and he spun back on the sheriff "This is All Souls' Day, isn't it?"

"it is."

"Why, then All Souls' Day is also my body's Judgment Day. This is the punishment that I once wished might fall on me if I was ever false to King Edward's children or his wife's allies. This is the punishment I wished might fall on me—that I would be betrayed by the man I trusted most. This, this All Souls' Day, is the predestined punishment for my frightened soul. I tried to play games with God—the all-knowing seer—but he has turned my false prayer on my head and earnestly given me what I asked for as a joke. This is how he forces wicked men to turn their swords against their masters. Now Margaret's curse falls heavy on my neck. 'When Richard splits your heart in two with sorrow,' she said, 'remember that Margaret was a prophetess.'" Blaise muttered helplessly. A few in the crowd shuddered as they remembered well all those curses Luna had thrown about with such horrible contempt. A few of the older Ravenclaws looked particularly bereaved. Blaise suddenly let out a sigh before drawing himself up to his full height, though tears were shining on his cheeks. "Come, officer. Lead me to the block of shame. I have done evil, so I will get evil. I receive only the blame I deserve." then he was led away as the lights dimmed. A few set pieces shifted or went up, courtesy of some well-disguised students. As it stood the stage was now divided in two, with Richard's colours on one side and Henry Tudors on the other. Then the lights went up and everyone gasped.

"Longbottom?" Minerva exclaimed quietly "As Richmond?"

"You ought to have better faith in your student Minerva," Septima replied with a little smirk.

"Fellow soldiers and loving friends, all who have suffered under the burden of Richard's tyranny—we have marched this far without obstacles, all the way to the center of England. And here we receive news of encouragement and comfort from my stepfather Stanley. He says this: the wretched, violent, and usurping boar, that ruined your fields and vineyards; drinks your warm blood like water; and uses your disembowelled stomachs as his feeding trough—this foul swine is right now in the center of the country, near the town of Leicester. It's only a day's march from Tamworth, where we are now. In God's name, let's continue with cheerful spirits, my courageous friends, to reap the harvest of eternal peace from this one bloody trial of war." Neville spoke with a firmness few had ever heard. He wore a confidence that stunned many.

"Every man's clean conscience is like a thousand swords to fight against this guilty murderer." Ernie agreed with a nod.

"I don't doubt that his friends will turn on him and join us." Seamus Finnegan agreed, Ironic as he had played Richard's ally many times throughout the play.

"He has no friends except for those who are too afraid to leave him. But they'll abandon him in his time of greatest need." Ron added with a scowl and a nod.

"All to our advantage. Then, in God's name, let's march. True hope is swift and flies as fast as a swallow. Hope makes kings into gods, and lesser men into kings." Neville declared before the group formed ranks and marched back off the stage, leaving their camp behind, which slowly faded away. Then the lights went up on the other side as Harry walked into the light, trying to tie a metal bracer onto his arm with one hand while the other held a sword.

"Pitch our tents right here, in Bosworth field." He muttered, gesturing around with his sword. Then he looked up from his sword to Smith. "My Lord of Surrey, why do you look sad?" smith pulled a face before schooling it blank

"My heart is ten times lighter than my appearance." smith declared, despite it sounding like a blatant lie.

"My Lord of Norfolk—" Harry called off stage, sounding ever distracted.

"Here, most gracious lord," Justin called back, rushing into the scene with a hastily strapped helmet.

"Norfolk, we must have a few swings of the sword, ha, must we not?" Harry called, swinging his sword around challengingly, despite his bracer still not being fully secured.

"We must both give them and take them, my loving lord." Justin agreed sycophanticaly. Harry as Richard seemed to lap it up even as he began to nibble at his fingers, as if stressed. Then he turned around towards the stage and seemed to pick someone out that the audience could not see.

"Put up my tent!" He bellowed angrily, startling a few of the younger students. He turned to his comrades with a smile "I'll sleep here tonight. But where will I sleep tomorrow? Well, it makes no difference. Who has spied out the size of the traitor's army?"

"Six or seven thousand, at the most," Justin swore. At that, Harry laughed his cold pit upon laugh.

"Why, our army is three times that many! Besides, the King's name is a tower of strength, which the opposition lacks." His eyes went cold and angry again. "Put up the tent!" The crowd jumped at his erratic behaviour even as Harry spun back around to his 'friends' with a brilliant smile "Come, noble gentlemen, let's survey the military advantages of this battlefield. Call for some experienced officers. Let's lack no discipline and make no delay, for tomorrow will be a busy day, my lords."

The scene continued, and the juxtaposition of the two kings, one fair and forgiving, the other cruel and suspicious made everyone loathe Richard that much more. Then finally the lights over the two kings dimmed to equal measures. As the two boys lay down, feigning sleep the centre of the stage suddenly filled with a low-hanging fog that spilled out into the orchestra pit, even as the musicians played a quietly eerie melody. Then suddenly the stage glowed a bright pale blue and the audience gasped as an ethereal badger floated out of the fog.

"G-goodness!" Minerva cried, then bashfully covered her mouth "Who-"

"May I weigh down your soul tomorrow! Remember how you stabbed me at Tewkesbury in the prime of my life. So despair, and die!" The badger declared, with a voice like Justin Finch Fletcher, as a spotlight shown on Harry's anguished face. Then it turned as the spotlight shown on Neville instead who bore a small smile. "Be cheerful, Richmond, for the wronged souls of butchered princes fight on your side. I, King Henry's son, offer you my comfort, Richmond." Then the badger faded away to be replaced instead by a mighty-looking eagle.

"When I was alive, you stabbed my kingly body full of deadly holes. Remember the Tower, and remember me. Despair, and die! Henry the Sixth tells you to despair and die!" Terry boots voice cawed from the eagle's beak furiously. "You who are virtuous and holy, be also victorious. I, Henry—who prophesied that you would be king one day—comforts you in your sleep. Live and prosper!"

On the scene went. Clarence was Jack Russell's Terrier, and Rivers a magpie. Grey was a hyena, and Vaughan a Rooster. Then the stage was filled with two tiny creatures, one a hedgehog, the other a hummingbird which hovered this way and then that as the pair spoke as the princes in the tower.

"Is that Nigel Fitzroy and Dennis Creevey?!" Minerva demanded with a hiss. "Fitzroy is only 11!"

"Harry is a wonderful teacher," Septima explained with a smile.

The boar finished its lines as Hastings. When the stage dimmed for a second. Then out of the fog emerged an incredibly regal-looking leopard-like cat. Its head slowly turned and stared at Richard with viscous contempt.

"Richard, it's your wife, wretched Anne your wife, who never had a quiet hour of sleep with you. Now I've come to fill your sleep with disturbing thoughts. Tomorrow in the battle, remember me and drop your blunted sword. Despair, and die!" Millicent's voice issued from the Bengal cat's sinisterly fanged mouth before she turned. "You quiet soul, sleep a quiet sleep. Dream of success and happy victory. Your enemy's wife prays for you." Then the cat evaporated and in its place rose a jackal.

"I was the last to help you to the crown, and the last to feel the sting of your tyranny." Blaise's patrons lamented, sounding bitterly angry as he prowled towards Harry "Oh, in battle remember Buckingham, and die in terror of your own guilt. Dream on, dream on, of bloody deeds and death. And tomorrow, fall and despair, and despairing die!" then the jackal turned and walked toward Neville. "I died while hoping that I could help you, but be cheerful, and don't worry. God and his good angels fight on your side, and Richard will fall from the height of his pride." Then finally the jackal evaporated and the stage faded again as the fog slowly retreated. Then suddenly Harry's side of the stage lit up as he jolted away from where he had been tossing and turning.

"Give me another horse! Bind up my wounds! Have mercy, Jesus!" He cried fearfully, shaking like a leaf as he glanced around the stage before he let out a relieved sigh. "But wait, I was only dreaming. Oh, you coward conscience, how you torture me! The candles burn blue. It is now dead midnight. I'm in a cold sweat and trembling with fear. What am I so afraid of? Myself? There's no one else here. Richard loves Richard; that is, I am only myself. Is there a murderer here? No. But yes, it's me. Then run away! What, from myself? Yes, so I won't take revenge. What, revenge myself upon myself? Alas, I love myself. But why? Have I ever done myself any good? No, no! Alas, I hate myself instead, for all the hateful deeds I've committed. I am a villain. But I'm lying—I am not a villain. Fool, speak well of yourself. Fool, do not flatter yourself. My conscience has a thousand separate voices, and each voice tells a separate story, and each story condemns me as a villain. Perjury, perjury, in the highest degree; murder, ominous murder, in the highest degree; all kinds of sins, all done in each degree—bad, worse, and worst—all of these crimes cry out "Guilty! guilty!" I will despair. There is no one who loves me, and if I die no one will pity me. And why should they, since I can't even find any pity for myself in myself? Just now it seemed like the souls of all those I murdered came to my tent, and every one of them threatened that vengeance would fall on my head tomorrow."

"My lord," Dean called softly as he stepped onto the stage.

"By God! Who's there?" Harry demanded with a jump as he picked up his sword frantically.

"My lord, it's Ratcliffe, it's me. The village rooster has already crowed twice to welcome the dawn. Your friends are up and putting on their armour." Dean said with a weary expression. Harry seemed bleary for a moment before he wiped his face.

"Oh, Ratcliffe, I have dreamed a fearful dream! What do you think, will all our friends prove loyal?" He asked.

"No doubt, my lord," Dean promised with a solemn nod. Harry shook his head.

"Oh, Ratcliffe, I'm afraid, I'm afraid." He muttered as he began nibbling on his hand again.

"No, my good lord, don't be afraid of shadows." Dean tried to comfort him. Harry shook his head and stood.

"By Saint Paul, tonight shadows have struck more terror in my soul than ten thousand soldiers could, even if they were dressed in impenetrable armour and led by that fool Richmond. It's not yet daytime. Come with me; I'll eavesdrop under our tents to see if anyone plans to desert me." Harry muttered before limping off stage while a nervous-looking Dean watched then followed after a moment of hesitation.

"He definitely plays the part of the paranoid ball of nerves quite well," Charity remarked.

"Course he does. He lives with the biggest one on earth." Rolanda argued with a cheeky grin in Severus' direction. The man scowled at her.

"It's not paranoia if they really are out to get you." Severus reminded her bitterly.

"Yes I know," Rolanda muttered. "I was trying to lighten the mood…"

"Yes well," Severus grumbled before looking back as the drums started to crescendo signalling the beginning of an impending battle, for a moment the group of actors froze as a spotlight shone on Harry once more. He seemed to be shaking, with sweat on his brow. He swallowed thickly.

"A thousand hearts seem to beat within my chest. Advance our banners. Attack our enemies. May our ancient battle cry of courage, fair Saint George, inspire us with the fury of fiery dragons! Attack! Victory rides with us!" He declared. Then all the actors behind him rushed to centre stage, met by all the actors on Neville's side. Then the curtain fell for a moment, muffling the sounds of battle. When it rose again, just a moment later the set appeared ruined. Justin was in the middle, surrounded on all sides with a few loyal men before Seamus rushed into the fray.

"Help, my lord of Norfolk, help, help! The king has performed more wonders than seems humanly possible, facing down every dangerous enemy himself. His horse is killed, and now he's fighting on foot, searching for Richmond even in the face of death. Help, honourable lord, or else the battle is lost!" Seamus begged. Justin grew panicked and motioned for his men to follow, pursued by their attackers as the curtain fell again. This time when it opened Harry was in the middle of the stage, staggering around, with a ripped sleeve and some blood smeared on his face. He looked deranged, as a few pairs duel behind him.

"A horse, a horse! I'd give my kingdom for a horse!" He cried out desperately.

"Retreat from the fighting, my lord. I'll help you get to a horse!" Seamus cried as he rushed into the scene. Harry sneered angrily.

"You villain, I have gambled my life on this throw of the dice, and I will take the risks that come with it. I think there are six Richmonds on the battlefield; I've killed five already who looked like him. A horse, a horse! I'd give my kingdom for a horse!" Harry begged desperately when suddenly the drums and the fighting and the noise stopped. Neville walked onto the stage. Harry turned to him, eyes wild and lip quivering. Slowly he moved back until the pair were perfectly across from each other. Harry lifted his sword in time with Neville. Then they charged and clashed in the middle. Their swords bounced against each other, the only sound as all the other actors on stage were frozen as if this battle was taking place within a single moment. Then suddenly Harry parried when he should have dodged and Neville stabbed his sword 'through' him. Harry gasped, choking on his breath. Neville drew his sword out again. Harry stumbled back, showing off the brilliant special effects Katie had rigged up so that his chest would bloom with blood in this very scene. Then he gave one last gasp and collapsed to the ground. His crown bounced off, then rolled around and landed at the feet of the one student who had been absent from the battle.

"May God and your swords be praised, victorious friends! The day is ours. The bloody dog is dead!" Neville cried to the actors around who'd all be freed from the strange paralysis. A cheer rose all around. Micheal leaned down and picked up the crown with a smile before walking up to Neville and falling to a knee.

"Courageous Richmond, you fought well. See, I took this long-stolen crown from the dead forehead of that bloody wretch. Now let it grace your brows. Wear it, enjoy it, and do much with it." Micheal said, with a bit too much enthusiasm, as he was prone to. But it wasn't terrible, given the circumstances.

"Great God of heaven, say amen to all of this! But tell me, is young George Stanley still alive?" Neville asked.

"My lord, he is alive and safe in Leicester, where we can now go if you'd like," Micheal said. Neville nodded before he took a breath and looked around.

"John—the Duke of Norfolk; Lord Walter Ferrers; Sir Robert Brakenbury; and Sir William Brandon." Micheal listed, sounding very sad indeed. Neville sighed before he straightened up.

"Bury them in a manner appropriate to their social rank. Proclaim a pardon to the soldiers who fled, if they'll return and submit to me. And then—as I swore I would—I will marry Elizabeth, uniting the York and Lancaster families. God, smile upon this fair union now, after frowning so long upon the hatred between the two families. What traitor hears me and doesn't agree?" Neville demanded. No one spoke up which made him smile. "England has been mad for a long time and injured herself. Brothers have blindly shed their brothers' blood. Fathers have impulsively slaughtered their own sons. Sons have been compelled to butcher their fathers. All this divided York and Lancaster even more, when they were already ominously divided. Oh, but now let Richmond and Elizabeth—the true heirs of each royal house—be joined together in holy marriage! And if God wills it, let their heirs enrich the future with peace, plenty, and beautiful, prosperous days! Gracious God, may you blunt the sharpness of traitors' swords and anyone who would bring back these violent days to make poor England weep tears of blood! If any would try to wound this land's fair peace with treason, then don't let them live to enjoy its prosperity. Now civil wounds are bandaged and can heal, and peace lives again. Long may she live here. Let God say amen!" Neville delivered, raising his sword to the air with triumphant music rising to a crescendo. The curtain fell then and the great Hall rose with applause and cheers. The room rose to their feet then as the curtain rose once more, with Micheal, Neville and the various soldiers taking the first bow. Then Seamus, Dean, Ernie, and Justin walked on, taking a bow themselves. Terry, Zacharias, and Colin were next. Nigel, Lucy and Dennis walked on, giving a wave before bowing to a few whoops and whistles. Fred, George and Lee Jordan came next, followed by Ron, who made a play of removing three different costumes before revealing Clarence underneath it all to a round of laughter. Next came all four queens, walking through the lineup with grace and dispersing at the front before giving their bow. And last but certainly not least, Harry marched up to the front of the group and gave a bow himself. Then the whole cast raised hands and gave one final bow. The curtain started the fall when Harry stepped forward so that it fell behind him. Everyone quieted as the band slowly trailed off.

"As many of you know," Harry began softly. "SCAM was … well, a scam." He declared with a weak smile. A few students chuckled slightly. "We used the time we weren't practising our plays to learn defensive spells, against the will of Delores Umbridge. It was dangerous, but necessary, given… well everything." Harry muttered, a lump forming in his throat. "Our club, this whole idea really, was started by Tracey Davies. Some of you probably have no idea who I'm talking about. So I'm going to tell you about her. Tracey was… funny, and brilliant, and honest, and determined, and ambitious, and… brave beyond belief. She liked to make business deals and read romance novels and collect flowers. She loved roses, and silver, and the colour red. She was allergic to carnations, and stopped me from rushing headlong into stupid ideas." He took a shuddered breath. "She was the love of my life." He declared. "and now she's gone." Then he swallowed and looked up "but I refuse to let her be forgotten. I will keep her in my heart, and spend the rest of my life telling her story if I must. So I dedicate this final performance of SCAM to Tracey Davies. The greatest Slytherin who ever lived." Then he turned and walked through the curtains leaving a silent great Hall behind.