Author's Note: Some people may not like this chapter because it focuses on Harry, but more on the interplay of power between the members of the Black Family and on Persephone's past, though not yet on her massive history with Snape.

Chapter Eight-Family Matters and Press Conferences

Harry groaned as he awoke. He was in a large room painted a dark blue with white wainscotting. It was a lovely room with a balcony and French doors that were opened wide to allow in as much fresh air and sunlight as possible. Fresh flowers sat on a table by the French doors.

He was tired and trying to piece together what had happened. He remembered the confrontation at the restaurant and leaping for Molly Weasley, but that didn't explain where he was. He was mentally panicking even as Amelia Bones stepped into the room, smiling in approval and amusement.

"You had an exciting night, Harry."

He had the grace to look slightly ashamed. "I shouldn't have done that," he murmured to his chest. "I lost my temper."

Amelia's smile grew. "From what I've seen from Dromy and Ted Tonks' memories, she deserved it. Of course, she tried to press assault charges, but, given that she was there on Dumbledore's orders to essentially kidnap you... Well, she's sitting in a holding cell."

He sighed quietly. "I'm sorry to make trouble for you, Madame Bones."

She laughed. "Oh? Preventing yourself from being kidnapped with the biggest flare of accidental and Family Magics that has been recorded in recent history and you apologize! Never change, Harry. Please. You are a treat."

"I invoked Family Magics?"

"Oh, yes. From what I understand, you've bound Remus Lupin into your family. Of course, you'll need to consult with Remus and with the goblins about the legality of the issue, but I have to ask. How did you know he was a werewolf?"

Harry froze and thought quickly. "His eyes," he replied. "My cousin liked television shows and one described werewolves by the way their eyes would go gold. His eyes went gold when Persephone called him Alpha Moony."

Amelia accepted the reasoning at face-value. "Makes sense, I suppose. Not like we can ask your relatives anyway."

Harry made a note of this as a source of future excuses.

"Now, as you've bound Mr Lupin to your family, you are responsible for providing him with the Wolfsbane potion or a safe place to transform if he is a werewolf that prefers to be feral. The Blacks and the Malfoys have been granted joint temporary custody of you until such a time as the special Wizengamot session decides your situation."

"Where am I?"

"Malfoy Manor in Wiltshire."

He nodded and snuggled into the blankets.

"And, yes, you'll be tired for a few days. It takes a lot of magic to bind a werewolf."

He nodded again and she smiled. "Go to sleep, Harry. The world will still be here tomorrow. Malfoy Manor is under Auror guard."

LoEx-LoEx-LoEx-

I find Headmaster Dumbledore to be most obstinate in his concern for Harold Potter. He comes across as concerned and almost grandfatherly when it comes to Lord-Presumptive Potter's affairs, despite legal notice that he is to stop concerning himself with House Potter.

His concern for the school is almost non-existent, except that he remains in the office of Headmaster. When M. Potter is Sorted by the impartial judge (I must note here that I find myself curiously unable to write down the name of the object, which speaks of a geas to me), I would be most concerned if M. Potter is Sorted anywhere except into House Gryffindor as Dumbledore seems to expect.

Headmaster Dumbledore has proven to be most resistant and uncooperative regarding the educational changes you managed to get passed in the ICW, Madame Chair, and seems to operate under the false notion that Hogwarts is the best educational facility in Europe, if not in the world, and that his position as Supreme Mugwump excludes Hogwarts from having to comply with international standards.

I fear that if we take action directly against him in international courts, Grindelwald will march a bloody path across Europe once again, though he will have his lover at his side this time. We can only pray that the upcoming debacle in the British Wizengamot will be enough to depose Dumbledore.

I find Hogwarts to be a danger to faculty and students alike.

-Mdme Ariadne Corleone

A private missive to Mme Patrice Wilcox, Chair of the International Educational Committee for the International Confederation of Wizards

Intercepted by Albus Dumbledore, read, and burned

LoEx-LoEx-LoEx-

It took a few mornings for Harry to get accustomed to his absolutely palatial room at Malfoy Manor. The world whirled around the estate as Narcissa threw herself and the combined resources of the Blacks and Potters into preparing Harry for that dratted press conference.

Persephone, Andromeda, acting as Regent Potter, and Remus were running themselves ragged finding information about who knew about Sirius' lack of trial, why there was no trial, etc. It all pointed back to Dingledore, Crouch, Lucius Malfoy, and Bagnold. The proof was stacking against the quartet.

Harry was taken shopping yet again in the meantime for more school supplies, more clothing, his unregistered wand, and to have his eyes fixed. Lessons in magic began, using his technically illegal wand, alongside other lessons in etiquette, regulated duelling, Wizarding history, French, and the History of House Potter –the last two taught by his grandmother Dorea Black Potter.

Dobby had quickly been dealt with after being overheard saying, "Great Harry Potter shouldn't be here…. Old Wizards is angries…" one too many times. Narcissa quickly sent the deranged elf to Grimmauld to assist Kreacher in preparing for the return of Sirius and to ensure that the house and its lady–currently Walburga–were well taken care of.

When he retired at night, he was expected to 'expand' upon his rudimentary knowledge of Occlumency for at least an hour. Given that his Mind Healer, Healer Nashua, thought it was a good idea to 'blunt' the impact of the Dursleys' treatment of him, he threw himself whole-heartedly into learning from a woman he trusted.

Lucius–here Harry still heard Rowen's voice mutter, 'Oooh, Daddy Delicious!' much to his continued horror–had been called away prior to his arrival and was, apparently, just arriving home, given the bellow of, "Narcissa! What in Merlin's name is going on here?!"

It was less than twenty-four hours until the press conference and Harry had hoped that Lucius would miss the event. Seemed like his luck just hadn't held out.

"Well, Harold, this will be a good opportunity to use your manners and show what you've learned since you've been here. I think you should go and greet the Master of the House," Dorea said. "I'll accompany you, so I'll know what we need to continue working on."

"Oui, Grandmere," he sighed. Draco was already at the door to the Library, eyes impatient and obviously pleased that his adored father was home. He let the younger blond lead the way as Harry struggled to remember his grandmother's deportment lessons. Lucius Malfoy was both older and the Master of the House that Harry was staying in. He had to show proper deference to the lower-ranked man, but not so much deference that one could think that he was saying that House Black and House Potter were beneath House Malfoy.

No wonder Draco constantly got beat out by Hermione in academics! He never had any time to actually study! Harry thought bitterly. If he had had time, he might have stood a chance! As it is, Great-Aunt Cass, Narcissa, and Draco–not to mention Grandmere–are trying to stuff ten years of knowledge into my poor brain in two weeks!

Suddenly, he was in front of Lucius and bowing just slightly from the waist. "Lord Malfoy, I greet you. My thanks for your hospitality and that of your House simply cannot be expressed."

Narcissa and Dorea smiled approvingly and nodded slightly, indicating that he had done very well. "Lucius, this is Lord-Presumptive Potter, my cousin through my Aunt Dorea."

"Harry, please," he corrected gently. "After all, we are close kin, Cousin Narcissa. Practically siblings, really."

She nodded and her smile widened. "Very true, Harry."

LoEx-LoEx-LoEx-

The morning of 19 July dawned bright, clear, and beautiful, but hot. Although the pre-conference reception and open coffee bar wasn't to begin until ten, Harry and Draco were both up at an almost-indecent six A.M., practicing their duelling.

At a quarter-past seven, the boys–sweaty, slightly tired, and extremely hungry after their spell work–discreetly ran upstairs (because Scions of Houses as great at the Blacks, Malfoys, and Potters never publicly ran) from the duelling salon to shower prior to breakfast. They were slightly rushed this morning since the third match had been required to decide the day's winner. Morning robes were still being flung over shoulders when the boys met at the top of the stairs at seven-twenty-five.

"Day's blessings, cousin," Draco greeted, his hand smoothing down a persistent cow-lick.

"Day's blessings, cousin," Harry parroted, fumbling with a button on his waist-coat. Idly, he mused about how the cowlick made Draco look funny and bit back a giggle.

Slowly, the boys descended the stairs and strolled into the family breakfast parlour right as the grandfather clock chimed the half-hour. Lucius and Narcissa entered through a door on the opposite side of the room and Harry wondered if that doorway led to the Master and Mistress' Suites for Malfoy Manor.

"Maman. Father," Draco greeted, almost chirping in his joy to see his mother. The Scion of House Malfoy had begun to buck his father's expectations and desires, siding with his Black kin, much to Lucius' distaste.

"Day's blessings, Cousin Narcissa and Lord Malfoy," Harry greeted solemnly.

"Oh, good morning, Draco and Harry," Narcissa replied, smiling maternally at both boys. "Have you taken your potions yet, Harry?"

"After practice. The Healers are discussing how I might be permitted to start weaning off some of them prior to the start of term."

Lucius didn't speak to his heir or to his cousin-by-marriage. Harry simply ignored the increasingly inconsequential man. Ted was already working on getting most of the Death Eaters who had escaped punishment after the first war imprisoned after Sirius' release.

After Lucius led Narcissa to her seat and took his own at the head of the table, Draco and Harry sat at the opposite end, given the lack of formality in a family breakfast. While Narcissa sipped on fragrant tea, she looked down at the two scones and fruit on Harry's plate. "Nervous, Harry?"

"Quite. If what I've read in the Prophet recently is an accurate example of Rita Skeeter's quill, I shudder to think of how my words will be twisted! Those Quick-Quotes Quills are nasty business. Did you read that interview that allegedly took place between her and Cousin Sirius? Positively libellous."

Lucius coughed and Narcissa's eyes narrowed at her husband. "Coffee went down the wrong pipe, Lucius, dear?" she queried, voice saccharine.

Lucius offered no reply.

LoEx-LoEx-LoEx-

Persephone Black was nervous. It was almost like the pre-battle jitters she had experienced during her days with the Order of the Phoenix, except the real battle wasn't for two days.

Today was the press conference and Narcissa had already reported that Lucius was going to be a problem. While eliminating Lord Malfoy wouldn't be much of a problem, it was inconvenient at this time. The Houses of Malfoy, Black, and Potter were supposed to begin eroding the powerbase of Dumbledore, not having to fight one ignorant blond.

Thankfully, none of Dumbledore's hard-line supporters had been invited to today's or tomorrow's events. There were enough 'Light' families–people like Amelia Bones, Duncan McGonagall, Camille Chang–that had been invited that there would be no accusation of Harry having been corrupted.

The sound of wet coughing caught her attention and she looked up at her mother's room, again grateful for Lily's insistence that all of the Marauders (and the Avengers, as Lily nicknamed the women attached to the Marauders) be registered and vaccinated in the Muggle world.

It wasn't the death of one son and the unlawful imprisonment of her eldest that broke Walburga Black. Being tortured by Voldemort himself was an honour that Walburga held tight to her three-sizes-too-small heart. Having multiple relations in Azkaban for 'acts against the betterment of Wizarding kind' warmed her on cold nights like a cheery fire.

No, in the end, it would be a Muggle disease–tuberculosis–that ended the madness that raged in the dowager Lady Black. The irony was almost enough to make Persephone laugh...

Almost.

Still, never let it be said that the Honourable Miss Persephone Black did not do her duty by her mother. This morning, as she had every morning she had been in residence at Grimmauld Place since she could remember, she climbed the stairs to the Mistress' Suite to the sound of Kreacher's hissed disapproval at her protective measures against her mother's illness–- up to and including a Bubblehead Charm. She brushed imagined lint off of her morning robes, her hair perfectly styled by her private elf, Topsy, and her attire perfect thanks to Turvy.

"Mistress will see you," Kreacher growled.

She entered the surprisingly serene and elegant domain of Walburga Black. The walls were robin's-egg blue with silver and white trim. Her furniture was comprised of Renaissance antiquities handed down through the family, reupholstered in a sophisticated cream with blue accent pillows for the Romanesque reclining couch.

"Day's blessings, Mother," she greeted, curtseying.

"Persephone," Walburga replied. "How goes the business of House Black, Regent?"

"I cannot tell you that, for the Heir has been found," she stated as she had every time her mother asked that question over the past several weeks.

"Yes. I had heard as much. Cassiopeia visited and said he even Bound your little misbegotten brats to the Family."

Persephone smiled brightly. "Why, yes, your grandchildren are well, Madam."

"Even if he did Bind them to you... a real Lord Black will strike them off again."

Here, Persephone got in her mother's face. "You don't know, do you? You haven't a clue who Sirius could have named Heir. And you hate knowing that, thanks to my efforts over the past decade, House Black will soon abandon Tojours Pur because I'll tell you something that will make your blood boil."

Walburga began coughing, eyes narrowing in indignation when the phlegm she aimed at her daughter simply slid down the Bubble head Charm. "Worthless little runt... should have drowned you at birth."

"Oh, Mother. Haven't figured it out yet?" Persephone queried as she moved lightly towards the door to her mother's suite. "Our acting lord is Harold Potter. Of more interest to you would be that he is a half blood."

Walburga's scream of outrage was cut short by violent hacking coughs.

"Topsy, please inform Lady Malfoy that Miss Black asks for the pleasure of coming over in a half hour concerning acting Lord Black."

Persephone didn't wait for acknowledgement of the order before going to Harmony and Jameson's room. They were just as much victims of Walburga Black as she was. Constantly made unwelcome in the only home they had ever known, abused by Kreacher on Walburga's orders...Persephone remembered the necessity to have Topsy, Turvy, and Turny bonded to herself and the children after catching Kreacher in the act of trying to drown the infants...

It was the first, last, and only time she had used the Cruciatus. The memory of using the Cruciatus on Kreacher still made her want to retch. Her mother's words of encouragement to kill the elf...

She shook the memory off as she watched the children. They were fastidiously clean, timidly quiet, shy, unassuming, almost like puppies who had been kicked a few too many times. Except with her.

"Mama Seph!"

"Day's blessings, Harmony and Jameson. Would you like to visit Harry today?"

Harmony's enthusiasm warmed Persephone's heart while Jameson's quiet, "I suppose we should. He's being tossed to the hounds of the press on our behalf." was expected. The younger boy was far more reserved than his nearest relation, despite being spared most of the abuse Harmony had suffered from various relations for being the elder child, an unwanted female in a patriarchal society–- being bastard-born of unknown maternity, unwanted by her own mother... At least Jameson was possibly useful as a male with clearly discernable Black blood who could be used to revive the failing Black bloodline.

That was how society viewed the previous arrangement of the Black family.

No longer would outsiders view her just as the responsible caretaker of House Black's metaphorical vineyards. Now, she could simply be a mother to two children who were devoted to her.

"Seeing as Harry is staying with our cousins in the Malfoy family, would you please dress in your morning visiting robes? The blue ones for Harmony. Topsy will complete your toilette and hair. Jameson, I think you look particularly dashing in the-"

"I'll wear the black, Mother."

She nodded slightly and stepped out of the room before she sniffled. Jameson had never called her 'Mother' before. It had always been 'Mama Seph.'

She headed for the family Floo, smiling sweetly. What a wonderful six letter word...

Kreacher hissed, "Nasty Missy Sephy upsetted Mistress. Should be punished, she should. Perhaps Mistress will let Kreacher prunes the family tree of nasty little halfblooded branches."

It didn't take Persephone but a moment to pull a sword from a display on the wall and behead Kreacher, a mother's protective fury washing over her.

"Dobby!"

The easily agitated elf popped in and looked horrified at the sight of Kreacher at Persephone's feet, blood soaking into the runner of the staircase.

"Yes, Missy Sephy?"

"Dispose of this disgrace. Burn his body and scatter the ashes amongst the crags of the highest cliff you can find. Be warned, Dobby. I will not hesitate to do the same to you if you stalk Harry Potter again without legitimate reason and without permission from Andromeda Tonks to protect him," she declared, laying all of her cards concerning this particular nuisance on the table and knowing he was bound to obey her unless her commands were in blatant contradiction to an order from Narcissa. "You are reminded of your orders to tell Albus Dumbledore nothing regarding House Black and its affairs, House Potter and its affairs, anything involving business or personal affairs concerning Harold Potter. If you are delivering a message concerning any of those topics and Albus Dumbledore is in the vicinity, you are to be silent. In fact, unless it involves a dire need, you are to remain silent unless asked a direct question by an authorized party or a member of the Black family. Is that clear, Dobby?"

"Yes, Missy Sephy."

"When you are done disposing of this treacherous elf, clean the runner until one could never tell there was an incident on it. If I have not returned by the time you have finished that, clear out Kreacher's cupboard of anything that belongs to the Black Family and place the property in the attics, unless it is Dark magic. Those items, you will take to Gringotts and inform the Black Accounts Manager that it is to be cleansed or destroyed, whichever is easier and more cost-effective."

She spun on her heel, furious that she had allowed herself to be driven to instinctive killing rage at the mere hint of her mother causing harm to her children.

Tuberculosis or not, Walburga Black needed to die and soon. Fortunately, Great-Aunt Cass' famous Black Book didn't only contain decades and centuries of worthwhile, carefully cultivated information on scandals and blackmailable offences. Untraceable poisons featured heavily in the tome.

Persephone struggled not to remember things that had been expected of her as the only female in the direct Black line.

She was strolling down the fifth floor corridor, looking for Lily, when the echoing laughter of two males drew her attention and caused her to hum softly as she slid into an alcove.

Her sense of dread was rewarded when she saw that it was her affianced, Evan Rosier, and his 'friend', Gregory Goyle.

Disgusting little cockroaches, she mused, shuddering in her distaste.

"So, how do you get a woman, Ev?"

Evan laughed, a dark tinkling in the air, almost feminine. "Greg, Greg, Greg. All it takes is one word to get any little bitch to let you go all the way. Imperio. Bitch'll suck cock, take it up the arse… Anything you can think of."

"Even bloodletting?"

"Look, man. I'm not at all curious about your predilections, but that's what the Imperius does. Bends a bitch to your will. Can't wait until I have the contract in hand. I'll show you how I handle pussy when I get that Ice Cunt, Persephone, to myself. If you ask nicely, I might share after I break her in."

That memory was shaken off only for another to follow.

Aunt Dorea's kitchen was a wondrous place, especially during the Christmas hols. The intoxicating scents of baking apples, cinnamon, allspice, pumpkins, sugar, sausage, sage, rosemary, and so many other delicacies–- all inevitably delicious–- wafted through the home.

Persephone flinched as she realized that Cousin James actually had a true home. She and Sirius had a house, at Grimmauld Place–- once upon a time a fashionable address–but it wasn't their home.

There was a deep, bitter, green river of envy that coursed through her veins at the realization of the difference between house and home. Although Grimmauld would have the smells of the season, it wouldn't have the sounds…

Happy faeries singing from the Christmas tree in the family parlour… James, Sirius, Remus, Peter, and other friends shouting jovial insults as they played in the snow… Uncle Charlus' cello weeping songs of the season as he caressed its strings…

No, Grimmauld would be cold, silent, and immaculate.

"Seph?"

A quick, fake smile lit her lips. "Siri."

"We need to talk."

"Oh, dear. You sound so serious."

He rolled his eyes. "Why is it that only you, Lily, and Remus can pull that pun without it sounding ridiculous?"

"We're special. Comes from having grey matter between our ears, unlike the fluff and dust between yours."

Sirius didn't laugh, or even smile. "Father is very upset, Seph. The Rosiers are threatening to invoke the financial penalties in the betrothal contract."

She bent her head and sighed. "My brother, he has threatened to use the Imperius on me to perform acts most foul and unnatural and to share me with his friends. I cannot bear his touch or even the sound of his voice. We are ill suited and I wouldst beg to be free of this burden."

"That's not all, though, is it, my sister?"

"Oh, Sirius, what does the rest matter? My heart is not my own, but his belongs to Lily and I love her too much to even be envious of his affections."

Sirius flinched. "Oh, Merlin. You're in love with James? Tell me true, sister. If he has played with your affections-"

She shook her head. "No, Sirius. Not James. Never James… Well, not in a romantic fashion. I'll not name him, for you despise him, and the situation is hopeless."

"Severus Snape?"

She was careful not to react. "Yes."

"I'll get Father and Uncle Marius to break the contract. Merlin, Seph. I'm so sorry."

LoEx-LoEx-LoEx-

The Boy-Who-Lived:

The First Press Conference

Reported by Honour Ably

Last seen in our world somewhere around the middle of August, 1981, it has been a long ten years since any wizard or witch has seen Harold Potter. (This, naturally, discounts the alleged sightings reported to Witch Weekly and Teen Witch Weekly, which were strongly centred around Little Whinging in Surrey.)

Now in the protective, positive, and obviously affectionate care of his cousins (the Honourable Regent, Miss Persephone Black, Mrs Theodore Tonks, Regent Potter, and Lady Narcissa Malfoy, nee Black), the appearance of our beloved saviour is not what any of us would have expected. The book series, The Adventures of the Boy-Who-Lived (Published by Aloe N. Lyes Publishing, same publisher as The Daily Prophet), would have us looking for a reckless youth, enamoured of power and his own legend, arrogant and careless, yet just lucky enough to always survive his escapades.

Instead, Lord-Presumptive Potter's appearance is hardly awe-inspiring or overly heroic. Where the books describe arrogance, this reporter saw humility and respect. Recklessness was replaced by caution and guarded tongue….

Well, instead of waxing poetic, this reporter will allow the conference to state the truth.

Harold James Potter: Good morning, ladies and gentlemen of the press, honoured members of the Wizengamot, and representatives of the Ministry of Magic. Thank you for your attendance and I am going to beg your indulgence beforehand for any gaffes I make. Having only been back in the wizarding world for two weeks, and this being my first speaking engagement, I will admit that I do not know who is whom. I can assure you, though, that the failing is entirely my own. My poor cousins have done everything they could to reach my brain through my hair.

(Smattering of laughter, as Lord-Presumptive Potter has his father's legendary messy hair, ebony in colour.)

Persephone, Regent Black: After our question and answer session, Cousin Narcissa has graciously agreed to host a small luncheon for the members of the press who wish to have a light repast and, perhaps, ask Harry a few questions privately. Now, we'll start with Mr. Aloysius Dagworth-Granger of The London Magical Times.

(For the sake of clarity and ease, The Daily Prophet will be abbreviated as DP, The London Magical Times as TLMT, Witch Weekly as WW/TWW, and The Quibbler as Q.)

TLMT: Lord-Presumptive Potter-

HJP: Harold, if you must, but I much prefer Harry.

TLMT: Very well, then, Harry. What do you make of the legend surrounding your name? Your alias as 'The Boy-Who-Lived'?

(Here, Harry takes a deep breath, green eyes darkening with pain.)

HJP: I think that the legend surrounding my name and the resulting fame is misplaced. I do not understand how any logical-thinking person can believe that a fifteen-month-old toddler could defeat (The Dark Lord). I believe it to be far more likely that (The Dark Lord) was defeated by magics used by my parents for my protection. I am simply sorry that there was so much bigotry and racism that their sacrifice was necessary. James and Lily Potter should be sitting here today and I should simply be one more little boy getting ready for school.

WW/TWW: Elizabeth Bagshot, Witch Weekly. Harry, why are you not afraid to say He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's name?

HJP: I'm sorry. Am I not supposed to say it? After all, he murdered my parents. I refuse to give him nicknames.

Q: We wizarding folk simply prefer not to name him because of the dark times that his reign caused. Xenophilius Lovegood, The Quibbler. What are your goals, Harry?

HJP: I would like to excel at school, open my parents' wills so I can complete their last requests in the interest of family honour, enjoy my time with my wizarding family… Maybe meet a nice girl or two at school to date… My goal is to be a normal Hogwarts student.

DP: Rita Skeeter, Daily Prophet. Where have you been the last ten years, Harry?

HJP: The Chief Warlock placed me on my mother's Muggle sister's doorstep. I was raised ignorant of magic, my heritage…

(There is a mild current of disapproval in the room.)

When there were displays of accidental magic, I was informed that it was 'freakishness' and punished harshly. I was punished more when I asked why these displays happened, what happened to my parents… My aunt pulled me aside once and informed me that they died in an automotive accident as a result of over-indulgence in cheap liquor….

I believe they were instructed to break me, much like Ariana Dumbledore was broken.

DP: And who is Ariana Dumbledore?

HJP: You'd have to ask the Chief Warlock. If you're interested in the truth, ask his brother, Aberforth.

TLMT: Can you explain what you meant by opening your parents wills?

HJP: James and Lily Potter's wills were read and then sealed by the Chief Warlock without being enacted. I have reason to believe that the Chief Warlock has taken an interest in my life–but not in my well-being.

TLMT: And your interest in the Sirius Black case?

HJP: My interest in the Sirius Black case is that the man is my oath-sworn Godfather. By the innate magic of such a bond, he would be incapable of causing myself, my family, or my House harm, especially when you consider that my grandfather was his foster father. Seeing as Lord Black is still alive, he cannot have done what he was accused of. Betraying my parents would have killed him.

When you add that the original trial transcript is missing… Well, the Muggles have a saying. 'If it looks like a duck, quacks like a duck, and swims like a duck? It's usually a duck.'

Q: So he was not He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's right hand man?

HJP: One thing I do find myself agreeing with the Chief Warlock on is that fear of a name increases the fear of the person. If you can't bring yourself to say (The Dark Lord), how about we call him Tom?

Q: And where did you come up with this name?

HJP: Well, I had a bit of insomnia one night and didn't want to take a Dreamless Sleep potion. I decided to read through graduation records from Hogwarts. I found that, in the past century, there are only a few people whom you cannot track after their graduation from the school. One was Tom Marvolo Riddle, son of Merope Gaunt and Sir Thomas Riddle, a Muggle from Little Hangleton. Just based on this very basic detective work, I have every reason to believe that (The Dark Lord) is, in fact, Tom Riddle, a half-blood much like myself.

Rather ironic when you consider that (The Dark Lord) and his terrorist group known as Death Eaters spouted a Pureblood agenda.

P, RB: Of course, were Mr. Riddle to step forth and prove himself not to be The Dark Lord, we would retract this statement.

WW/TWW: Presuming that your brother is found guilty, are there any special wizards in your life ready to become Consort Black?

P, RB: (small laugh) Every wizard in my life is special, though I have not yet found a consort. There was someone, once, whom I thought would fill that role, but he had a more academic leaning.

Q: If Sirius Black is found innocent, will he resume his side career as Stubby Boardman?

HJP/P, RB: Huh?