The snows outside Hogwarts had settled into blankets of white that draped over the landscape throughout the first week of winter break. All was quiet through the school, its stone walkways, staircases, and chambers mostly empty aside from the few students and faculty that had chosen to remain. Ron Weasley was one such student, not wanting to leave Harry Potter during Christmas holiday, and he stood in the one hallway that was far more active than the others. Even if he had lived a thousand lifetimes, he never would have guessed that Draceana Malfoy would be staying on campus as well, that she and Harry would be at the bathroom in the dungeons near Slytherin’s common room doing Merlin knows what, and that he would be facing down Professor Snape. All of this was a string of absurdities, but his best friend needed him, and he wasn’t about to let a potions teacher get in the way of… well he hoped it was love, at least. Snape regarded him with a cold expression. “Weasley, Potter and Malfoy were walking down this way, yet I appeared to have lost them. You wouldn’t happen to know where they went, would you?” Ron shrugged. “I haven’t the faintest idea of what you are talking about.” “Which is why I find you near Slytherin’s dungeons instead of your own House.” “Can a student not get a walk in during his time off?” “...then you wouldn’t mind if I inspected the bathroom, would you.” Ron stepped in front of the bathroom’s entrance. “I wouldn’t go in there if I were you, Fred and George were using it to test out Garroting Gas a long time ago and I think they left some of it unattended.” A dull look came over Snape’s features. “They left Hogwarts over a year ago.” “And traces of their mischief remain, you can never be too careful.” Ron gave a curt nod. A faint moan echoed out from the door. Snape raised a brow. “And that would be?” Bloody hell, Harry, what are you doing to her? Ron cleared his throat. “That’s just Myrtle, you know how she gets.” The ghost’s voice creeped out of the bathroom. “Y-yes, nothing’s happening! Everything is normal! La la la~!” Ron barely stopped himself from groaning. Snape sighed through his nose. “Step aside, Weasley.” Ron held his eyes closed for a moment. You owe me butterbeers for life after this, Harry. He drew his wand from his robes, the look in his gaze steel as he focused it on Snape. Snape rolled his jaw, then drew his own wand. “I have no time for this.” “And I wish I wasn’t here. Looks like we’re both not getting what we want.” Tension filled the hallway, thick and suffocating, wound so tight that the slightest of noises could snap it. Dobby popping into existence did just that. Both Snape and Ron’s heads cut to the house-elf, who had appeared tumbling onto the ground. The small creature snapped his head from side to side, clearly looking for something, or someone, in a panic. “Snape!” Of all things that could possibly appear, the sight of a sprinting Dumbledore was another sight Ron would have never imagined. “Apprehend Dobby at once!” Dobby cowered back in a moment of fear, the crackle of magic around his body leaving a tingle around Ron. Before it could fully manifest, Snape thrust his wand forward. “Impedimenta!” Turquoise light blasted forth, striking the house-elf in his chest and sending him stumbling back. Dobby’s eyes nearly popped out of his head as he looked up at the professor, like that was the first time he had seen him. He turned to Ron right after, his confusion growing. “Wheezy?” Dumbledore arrived at Snape’s side, huffing his breaths slightly. “That blasted creature told the goblins at Gringots about the hidden vault! All my hidden funds! Gone!” He waved his wand at Dobby threateningly. “You had no right to do that!” “Dobby has been underpaid all this time! So much money, all from Dobby’s work, and he hasn’t seen a dime!” The house-elf found his composure and thrust his finger at the headmaster. “Dobby saw the bronze bull and the fire, he will not be imprisoned again!” Another moan drifted out from the bathroom, much louder this time. Ron closed his eyes and titled his head back, letting a groan slip slowly through his lips. “Nothing is still happening! La la la~!” “You’re not helping, Myrtle!” Ron kicked the door. A stray thought wondered what in the world the couple in the bathroom was doing to completely ignore the chaos that was quickly starting to form. Dumbledore narrowed his eyes. “I see, Potter and Malfoy have progressed then, wonderful, fifty points to Slytherin and Gryffindor.” Snape turned to him, befuddled. The headmaster waved his hand in front of his face. “Never mind that, Professor, I require your assistance in apprehending Dobby.” “...I trust you will allow me to properly discipline Potter and Malfoy for their behavior after this?” “You have no proof that they’re up to anything!” Ron tightened his grip on his wand. “I will, once you step aside.” Ron frowned, but then an idea struck him. He was in this deep already, showing defiance to a professor, in front of the headmaster, no less. The point of no return was long past, and what he needed was an ally, someone powerful. House-elf magic had always been potent, even more than most people. He turned to the one at his side. “Dobby, Harry needs your help.” The house-elf faced him, eyes wide. “Harry Potter needs Dobby? What does he need him to do?” “He needs no one to go through that door.” Ron pointed at the bathroom. “It’s very important! Understand?” Dobby’s back immediately straightened, and iron filled his gaze. “Then Dobby will help.” The House-elf clapped his hands together and widened his stance. “HAAAAAAAA!” A spell lashed out from both Dumbledore and Snape, but Ron’s reflexes were now hardwired. “Protego!” The Shield Charm leapt from his wand and formed a thin wall of translucent light that shattered almost immediately from the two spells crashing into it. Their foes readied another, but by then, it was too late, for whatever magic Dobby was preparing had been unleashed. Everything slipped away. The floor, the walls, the light, all of it, and for a brief moment was Ron freefalling in total darkness. Then light emerged, a surge of bright white that nearly blinded him, but as his eyes corrected, he saw that a mass of that same light had formed below them, like he was looking at a washed out version of the sun up close, but without the heat. Dumbledore and Snape were in this space, composure maintained even as their cloaks billowed around them in their fall, but it was Dobby who drew Ron’s attention the most. The house-elf’s arms were spread wide, power exuding off of him in waves that made Ron unable to refer to him as small anymore. “Dobby is a free elf! In this space between spaces, Dobby is the master!” Dobby flicked out his hand, and the air above it twisted before Harry’s Firebolt appeared in his palm. He threw it towards Ron. “Fly, Wheezy!” The young wizard’s hand snapped towards it out of reflex, his Quidditch training taking over as he slipped onto the broom and kicked it into action. His head snapped back from the sudden change in momentum, but he was flying just as easily in this space as he had on the field. Dumbledore adjusted his robes. “Snape, glass.” A shower of empty vials poured from the Professor’s robes, too many to count, far too many to even carry, yet they continued to fill the space around them. With a flick of his wand, Dumbledore gathered them all into a mass and let a gout of fire blast from his from the tip of the wand. The empty vials melted immediately, and the headmaster split the molten glass into two flat circles, wide enough to stand on, before pulling his wand back. Heat left the newly made platforms, and with another flick of his wrist, they settled below both him and Snape, letting them stand upon them. He drifted away from Snape. “I will handle the elf, do go easy on Weasley, will you?” The professor snorted. “I make no promises.” He whipped around at Ron, but it was not his wand that had been readied. It was a potion, a blue one that filled a glass orb as big as Ron’s fist. The throw was accurate, placing it right in Ron’s flight path, but at the same time he flicked his wand towards it and with a twirl, altered its flight mid course to home in on Ron. The young wizard didn’t wait to see what it would do and sent a flick of power towards the potion while turning away from it. A burst of blue fire and force surged from the shattered glass, and Ron was nearly knocked from the broom from the impact against his back. He settled the Firebolt, but had no time to rest as three more of those potions flew through the flames and towards him. Ron put the broom into a dive, letting the speed of it out run the potions behind him before shooting another burst of power towards them. He was outside of the blast zone now, and immediately pulled up to come at Snape from below. The professor regarded him with an impassive look, then four bottles of black liquid fell from his robes. He flicked his wand around him, white light lashing out like a blade to slice the bottles, and black smoke filled the space around him. Ron cursed and pulled the broom to the side, looking at Snape’s newly made concealment. It had taken the shape of an irregular cloud, and there was no way to tell where the professor was hiding within. At the very least, Snape wouldn’t be able to see- Five more exploding potions flew from the smoke, the speed of them even faster than before. Ron cursed and leaned into his Firebolt to speed it forward, but against all logic, the potions were gaining ground. In the distance, he could see countless rays of light pouring from Dobby, pelting towards Dumbledore who was flicking them aside with speeds that turned his wand and hand into a blur. At the same time, spells still slipped from the Headmaster and towards the elf, crashing against the translucent white barrier that had formed over him. “DOBBY WILL NOT BE CONTAINED AGAIN!” “YOU’LL PAY FOR TELLING THOSE GOBLINS EVERYTHING, YOU SNIBBLING MISCREANT!” There was a small moment where Ron had begun to believe that this was all just a dream, just something he was experiencing after eating a bad jellybean or some nonsense that Fred and George had sent him. Yet, the air brushing against his face felt real, the broom under him the same, and the fear of those potions closing in on him was as real as any he had before. Maybe if he just let them hit him, he would wake up… He thought of Harry, who was with Draceana, and all the years that had led up to what they were doing in that bathroom, and grit his teeth. If he wasn’t around to let them see that too the end, then who would be? A long sigh left him, and he began a chant in his brain. Once, it was a song that only mocked him, but it had been turned into something that meant a great, personal triumph. This time, it would carry him further. Weasley is our King He flipped the Firebolt around, his wand lashing out. “Impedimenta!” A wide burst of turquoise light flew forth, slowing the potions for just a moment. Weasley is our King He zoomed towards the glass orbs, his hand out reached. He didn’t let the Quaffle in His hand, deft and gentle, snatched the brightest of the potions out of the air. Weasley is our King Ron kicked the Firebolt to the side and swerved it towards the black cloud. Weasley can save anything Three more exploding potions flew from the smoke, heading straight towards him. He never leaves a single ring Ron twisted the broom right as they drew close to avoid them, spinning upside down. That’s why Gryffindors all sing He sent the Firebolt into maximum speed and threw the potion in his hand. His eyes locked on it as it sank into the smoke, its momentum at the forefront of his mind, and fired a burst of magic to where it would be. Weasley is our King He pulled up right as the explosion happened, turning the broom to catch the burst of force to send him soaring upwards. The other potions that had been chasing him were caught in the blast, all bursting as well, but it was only the fragments of their glass that reached him, scattering harmlessly against his robes. When he looked back down, the cloud of smoke was gone, but Snape was unharmed, standing on the platform of glass with a magical shield of his own crackling around him. Another potion fell from the professor's sleeve and into his hand. “Oh, come off it!” Ron flicked a Stunning Charm at Snape, but it bounced off the barrier harmlessly. “Do you just walk around all day with that many potions, at all times?!” Snape looked him dead in the eyes. “Always.” The professor tossed the potion forward and flicked out his wand. “Accio Firebolt!” The broom under Ron slipped from under him, and out of reflex, he grabbed onto its bristles. The force of the spell yanked him towards Snape, and he could see the potion coming right for him. He should have been terrified, but no, the time for that had long passed. Ron dropped his wand, and with his remaining free hand, snatched the potion out of the air. The blue liquid inside it was boiling, the reactive nature of it already triggered, but the young wizard grit his teeth and let the Firebolt careen towards Snape. For once, the professor was not looking at him with arrogance or disgust, but complete and total surprise, and that was enough to make all this worth it. "Weasley is our King." The potion exploded right as he collided with Snape, robbing him of sight, sound, and feeling all at once. He could feel his consciousness slipping from him, even as those senses returned, and to his surprise he didn’t feel much beyond the soreness across his front, like he’d run headfirst into a wall. No cuts marred his skin, which he didn’t think was possible, but he guessed that Snape, despite his grievances with Ron, didn’t intend to harm him in that way. The professor in question floated in space just a few feet away, having been knocked completely unconscious. His gradually darkening vision told him that he was about to be in the same state, but with the last threads of consciousness, he turned to where Dobby and Dumbledore had battled. What he saw nearly brought him back from the brink. The house-elf floated above the headmaster, a massive ball of power formed between palms raised over his head. “DOBBY WILL WIN, AND HE WILL DANCE UPON YOUR BODY!” He threw his hands down, unleashing a massive beam of energy towards his foe. The headmaster regarded the approaching force with an impassive stare and widened his stance, pulling his wand back with both hands, as the three nodes across it filled with light. “10 BILLION POINTS TO GRYFFINDOR!” Dumbledore said calmly. …what? A beam just as wide, if not larger erupted from the headmaster’s wand, crashing into Dobby’s own in a thunderous boom that filled the infinite space. Power sparked off where the two spells met, the light of it brighter than the sun beneath them. “HAAAAAAAAAA!” “HOOOOOOOOOO!” Their roars drowned out all else, their struggle eternal, until finally, the point at which the spells clashed swelled, then burst. All turned to white. *** Harry emerged from the bathroom with Draceana. Both of them adjusted their robes, unable to meet each other in the eyes, but well aware of how red their faces were. She was the first to speak, clearing her throat with a prim cough. “I th… what happened here?” Harry looked at the hallway. Everything looked relatively untouched, but the unconscious forms of Ron, Dobby, Snape, and Dumbledore lay on the floor, smoke trailing up from each of them. He couldn’t see any evidence of battle, but the air crackled with an energy that told him some manner of spell had been used. Draceana stared at it all for a good, long while, before clapping her hands together. “Well, I think it is about time I return to my room. I have homework to catch up on.” She turned to Harry. “...this weekend, maybe, Potter?” “Uh, ye…” he shook his head, “Yes! This weekend, definitely.” She blushed and flashed him a smile before taking one last look at everything, then sped away. Harry knelt down over his friend and shook him. “Ron! Ron!” Ron’s eyes fluttered open. “H… Harry? I’m alive? Was it all a dream?” He looked at Dobby, then the unconscious Dumbledore and Snape. “No, definitely not a dream.” “You mind telling me what in Merlin’s beard happened here?” “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” Ron pushed himself up with a groan and rubbed his face, wincing slightly. “We should get out of here.” “...Hog’s Head?” “Hog’s Head.” Ron stood up and walked over to Dobby. “Give me a hand with him, will you?” Harry took the house-elf and cradled him in his arms. “You’re telling me what happened.” “Only if you’re paying for my butterbeer.” Ron dusted himself off and picked up his wand before they started to walk away, their steps quick. “Did things go well?” “With what?” Ron clicked his teeth. “You know what I’m talking about.” Harry’s blush found him again. “Yeah… yeah it went really well.” Ron nodded to himself. “Then that’s a job well done.”

The snows outside Hogwarts had settled into blankets of white that draped over the landscape throughout the first week of winter break. All was quiet through the school, its stone walkways, staircases, and chambers mostly empty aside from the few students and faculty that had chosen to remain. Ron Weasley was one such student, not wanting to leave Harry Potter during Christmas holiday, and he stood in the one hallway that was far more active than the others. Even if he had lived a thousand lifetimes, he never would have guessed that Draceana Malfoy would be staying on campus as well, that she and Harry would be at the bathroom in the dungeons near Slytherin’s common room doing Merlin knows what, and that he would be facing down Professor Snape. All of this was a string of absurdities, but his best friend needed him, and he wasn’t about to let a potions teacher get in the way of… well he hoped it was love, at least. Snape regarded him with a cold expression. “Weasley, Potter and Malfoy were walking down this way, yet I appeared to have lost them. You wouldn’t happen to know where they went, would you?” Ron shrugged. “I haven’t the faintest idea of what you are talking about.” “Which is why I find you near Slytherin’s dungeons instead of your own House.” “Can a student not get a walk in during his time off?” “...then you wouldn’t mind if I inspected the bathroom, would you.” Ron stepped in front of the bathroom’s entrance. “I wouldn’t go in there if I were you, Fred and George were using it to test out Garroting Gas a long time ago and I think they left some of it unattended.” A dull look came over Snape’s features. “They left Hogwarts over a year ago.” “And traces of their mischief remain, you can never be too careful.” Ron gave a curt nod. A faint moan echoed out from the door. Snape raised a brow. “And that would be?” Bloody hell, Harry, what are you doing to her? Ron cleared his throat. “That’s just Myrtle, you know how she gets.” The ghost’s voice creeped out of the bathroom. “Y-yes, nothing’s happening! Everything is normal! La la la~!” Ron barely stopped himself from groaning. Snape sighed through his nose. “Step aside, Weasley.” Ron held his eyes closed for a moment. You owe me butterbeers for life after this, Harry. He drew his wand from his robes, the look in his gaze steel as he focused it on Snape. Snape rolled his jaw, then drew his own wand. “I have no time for this.” “And I wish I wasn’t here. Looks like we’re both not getting what we want.” Tension filled the hallway, thick and suffocating, wound so tight that the slightest of noises could snap it. Dobby popping into existence did just that. Both Snape and Ron’s heads cut to the house-elf, who had appeared tumbling onto the ground. The small creature snapped his head from side to side, clearly looking for something, or someone, in a panic. “Snape!” Of all things that could possibly appear, the sight of a sprinting Dumbledore was another sight Ron would have never imagined. “Apprehend Dobby at once!” Dobby cowered back in a moment of fear, the crackle of magic around his body leaving a tingle around Ron. Before it could fully manifest, Snape thrust his wand forward. “Impedimenta!” Turquoise light blasted forth, striking the house-elf in his chest and sending him stumbling back. Dobby’s eyes nearly popped out of his head as he looked up at the professor, like that was the first time he had seen him. He turned to Ron right after, his confusion growing. “Wheezy?” Dumbledore arrived at Snape’s side, huffing his breaths slightly. “That blasted creature told the goblins at Gringots about the hidden vault! All my hidden funds! Gone!” He waved his wand at Dobby threateningly. “You had no right to do that!” “Dobby has been underpaid all this time! So much money, all from Dobby’s work, and he hasn’t seen a dime!” The house-elf found his composure and thrust his finger at the headmaster. “Dobby saw the bronze bull and the fire, he will not be imprisoned again!” Another moan drifted out from the bathroom, much louder this time. Ron closed his eyes and titled his head back, letting a groan slip slowly through his lips. “Nothing is still happening! La la la~!” “You’re not helping, Myrtle!” Ron kicked the door. A stray thought wondered what in the world the couple in the bathroom was doing to completely ignore the chaos that was quickly starting to form. Dumbledore narrowed his eyes. “I see, Potter and Malfoy have progressed then, wonderful, fifty points to Slytherin and Gryffindor.” Snape turned to him, befuddled. The headmaster waved his hand in front of his face. “Never mind that, Professor, I require your assistance in apprehending Dobby.” “...I trust you will allow me to properly discipline Potter and Malfoy for their behavior after this?” “You have no proof that they’re up to anything!” Ron tightened his grip on his wand. “I will, once you step aside.” Ron frowned, but then an idea struck him. He was in this deep already, showing defiance to a professor, in front of the headmaster, no less. The point of no return was long past, and what he needed was an ally, someone powerful. House-elf magic had always been potent, even more than most people. He turned to the one at his side. “Dobby, Harry needs your help.” The house-elf faced him, eyes wide. “Harry Potter needs Dobby? What does he need him to do?” “He needs no one to go through that door.” Ron pointed at the bathroom. “It’s very important! Understand?” Dobby’s back immediately straightened, and iron filled his gaze. “Then Dobby will help.” The House-elf clapped his hands together and widened his stance. “HAAAAAAAA!” A spell lashed out from both Dumbledore and Snape, but Ron’s reflexes were now hardwired. “Protego!” The Shield Charm leapt from his wand and formed a thin wall of translucent light that shattered almost immediately from the two spells crashing into it. Their foes readied another, but by then, it was too late, for whatever magic Dobby was preparing had been unleashed. Everything slipped away. The floor, the walls, the light, all of it, and for a brief moment was Ron freefalling in total darkness. Then light emerged, a surge of bright white that nearly blinded him, but as his eyes corrected, he saw that a mass of that same light had formed below them, like he was looking at a washed out version of the sun up close, but without the heat. Dumbledore and Snape were in this space, composure maintained even as their cloaks billowed around them in their fall, but it was Dobby who drew Ron’s attention the most. The house-elf’s arms were spread wide, power exuding off of him in waves that made Ron unable to refer to him as small anymore. “Dobby is a free elf! In this space between spaces, Dobby is the master!” Dobby flicked out his hand, and the air above it twisted before Harry’s Firebolt appeared in his palm. He threw it towards Ron. “Fly, Wheezy!” The young wizard’s hand snapped towards it out of reflex, his Quidditch training taking over as he slipped onto the broom and kicked it into action. His head snapped back from the sudden change in momentum, but he was flying just as easily in this space as he had on the field. Dumbledore adjusted his robes. “Snape, glass.” A shower of empty vials poured from the Professor’s robes, too many to count, far too many to even carry, yet they continued to fill the space around them. With a flick of his wand, Dumbledore gathered them all into a mass and let a gout of fire blast from his from the tip of the wand. The empty vials melted immediately, and the headmaster split the molten glass into two flat circles, wide enough to stand on, before pulling his wand back. Heat left the newly made platforms, and with another flick of his wrist, they settled below both him and Snape, letting them stand upon them. He drifted away from Snape. “I will handle the elf, do go easy on Weasley, will you?” The professor snorted. “I make no promises.” He whipped around at Ron, but it was not his wand that had been readied. It was a potion, a blue one that filled a glass orb as big as Ron’s fist. The throw was accurate, placing it right in Ron’s flight path, but at the same time he flicked his wand towards it and with a twirl, altered its flight mid course to home in on Ron. The young wizard didn’t wait to see what it would do and sent a flick of power towards the potion while turning away from it. A burst of blue fire and force surged from the shattered glass, and Ron was nearly knocked from the broom from the impact against his back. He settled the Firebolt, but had no time to rest as three more of those potions flew through the flames and towards him. Ron put the broom into a dive, letting the speed of it out run the potions behind him before shooting another burst of power towards them. He was outside of the blast zone now, and immediately pulled up to come at Snape from below. The professor regarded him with an impassive look, then four bottles of black liquid fell from his robes. He flicked his wand around him, white light lashing out like a blade to slice the bottles, and black smoke filled the space around him. Ron cursed and pulled the broom to the side, looking at Snape’s newly made concealment. It had taken the shape of an irregular cloud, and there was no way to tell where the professor was hiding within. At the very least, Snape wouldn’t be able to see- Five more exploding potions flew from the smoke, the speed of them even faster than before. Ron cursed and leaned into his Firebolt to speed it forward, but against all logic, the potions were gaining ground. In the distance, he could see countless rays of light pouring from Dobby, pelting towards Dumbledore who was flicking them aside with speeds that turned his wand and hand into a blur. At the same time, spells still slipped from the Headmaster and towards the elf, crashing against the translucent white barrier that had formed over him. “DOBBY WILL NOT BE CONTAINED AGAIN!” “YOU’LL PAY FOR TELLING THOSE GOBLINS EVERYTHING, YOU SNIBBLING MISCREANT!” There was a small moment where Ron had begun to believe that this was all just a dream, just something he was experiencing after eating a bad jellybean or some nonsense that Fred and George had sent him. Yet, the air brushing against his face felt real, the broom under him the same, and the fear of those potions closing in on him was as real as any he had before. Maybe if he just let them hit him, he would wake up… He thought of Harry, who was with Draceana, and all the years that had led up to what they were doing in that bathroom, and grit his teeth. If he wasn’t around to let them see that too the end, then who would be? A long sigh left him, and he began a chant in his brain. Once, it was a song that only mocked him, but it had been turned into something that meant a great, personal triumph. This time, it would carry him further. Weasley is our King He flipped the Firebolt around, his wand lashing out. “Impedimenta!” A wide burst of turquoise light flew forth, slowing the potions for just a moment. Weasley is our King He zoomed towards the glass orbs, his hand out reached. He didn’t let the Quaffle in His hand, deft and gentle, snatched the brightest of the potions out of the air. Weasley is our King Ron kicked the Firebolt to the side and swerved it towards the black cloud. Weasley can save anything Three more exploding potions flew from the smoke, heading straight towards him. He never leaves a single ring Ron twisted the broom right as they drew close to avoid them, spinning upside down. That’s why Gryffindors all sing He sent the Firebolt into maximum speed and threw the potion in his hand. His eyes locked on it as it sank into the smoke, its momentum at the forefront of his mind, and fired a burst of magic to where it would be. Weasley is our King He pulled up right as the explosion happened, turning the broom to catch the burst of force to send him soaring upwards. The other potions that had been chasing him were caught in the blast, all bursting as well, but it was only the fragments of their glass that reached him, scattering harmlessly against his robes. When he looked back down, the cloud of smoke was gone, but Snape was unharmed, standing on the platform of glass with a magical shield of his own crackling around him. Another potion fell from the professor's sleeve and into his hand. “Oh, come off it!” Ron flicked a Stunning Charm at Snape, but it bounced off the barrier harmlessly. “Do you just walk around all day with that many potions, at all times?!” Snape looked him dead in the eyes. “Always.” The professor tossed the potion forward and flicked out his wand. “Accio Firebolt!” The broom under Ron slipped from under him, and out of reflex, he grabbed onto its bristles. The force of the spell yanked him towards Snape, and he could see the potion coming right for him. He should have been terrified, but no, the time for that had long passed. Ron dropped his wand, and with his remaining free hand, snatched the potion out of the air. The blue liquid inside it was boiling, the reactive nature of it already triggered, but the young wizard grit his teeth and let the Firebolt careen towards Snape. For once, the professor was not looking at him with arrogance or disgust, but complete and total surprise, and that was enough to make all this worth it. "Weasley is our King." The potion exploded right as he collided with Snape, robbing him of sight, sound, and feeling all at once. He could feel his consciousness slipping from him, even as those senses returned, and to his surprise he didn’t feel much beyond the soreness across his front, like he’d run headfirst into a wall. No cuts marred his skin, which he didn’t think was possible, but he guessed that Snape, despite his grievances with Ron, didn’t intend to harm him in that way. The professor in question floated in space just a few feet away, having been knocked completely unconscious. His gradually darkening vision told him that he was about to be in the same state, but with the last threads of consciousness, he turned to where Dobby and Dumbledore had battled. What he saw nearly brought him back from the brink. The house-elf floated above the headmaster, a massive ball of power formed between palms raised over his head. “DOBBY WILL WIN, AND HE WILL DANCE UPON YOUR BODY!” He threw his hands down, unleashing a massive beam of energy towards his foe. The headmaster regarded the approaching force with an impassive stare and widened his stance, pulling his wand back with both hands, as the three nodes across it filled with light. “10 BILLION POINTS TO GRYFFINDOR!” Dumbledore said calmly. …what? A beam just as wide, if not larger erupted from the headmaster’s wand, crashing into Dobby’s own in a thunderous boom that filled the infinite space. Power sparked off where the two spells met, the light of it brighter than the sun beneath them. “HAAAAAAAAAA!” “HOOOOOOOOOO!” Their roars drowned out all else, their struggle eternal, until finally, the point at which the spells clashed swelled, then burst. All turned to white. *** Harry emerged from the bathroom with Draceana. Both of them adjusted their robes, unable to meet each other in the eyes, but well aware of how red their faces were. She was the first to speak, clearing her throat with a prim cough. “I th… what happened here?” Harry looked at the hallway. Everything looked relatively untouched, but the unconscious forms of Ron, Dobby, Snape, and Dumbledore lay on the floor, smoke trailing up from each of them. He couldn’t see any evidence of battle, but the air crackled with an energy that told him some manner of spell had been used. Draceana stared at it all for a good, long while, before clapping her hands together. “Well, I think it is about time I return to my room. I have homework to catch up on.” She turned to Harry. “...this weekend, maybe, Potter?” “Uh, ye…” he shook his head, “Yes! This weekend, definitely.” She blushed and flashed him a smile before taking one last look at everything, then sped away. Harry knelt down over his friend and shook him. “Ron! Ron!” Ron’s eyes fluttered open. “H… Harry? I’m alive? Was it all a dream?” He looked at Dobby, then the unconscious Dumbledore and Snape. “No, definitely not a dream.” “You mind telling me what in Merlin’s beard happened here?” “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” Ron pushed himself up with a groan and rubbed his face, wincing slightly. “We should get out of here.” “...Hog’s Head?” “Hog’s Head.” Ron stood up and walked over to Dobby. “Give me a hand with him, will you?” Harry took the house-elf and cradled him in his arms. “You’re telling me what happened.” “Only if you’re paying for my butterbeer.” Ron dusted himself off and picked up his wand before they started to walk away, their steps quick. “Did things go well?” “With what?” Ron clicked his teeth. “You know what I’m talking about.” Harry’s blush found him again. “Yeah… yeah it went really well.” Ron nodded to himself. “Then that’s a job well done.”

*The following is a rewrite of Harry's interrogation scene from Harry Potter and The Order of the Phoenix, chapter 32: Out of the Fire, from Draceana(Malfoid)'s perspective. It's gonna be an angsty ride, so strap yourselves in* Pain. Dull, creeping, one that had been persistent ever since she was given that badge. It had been manageable, at first, a mild discomfort at what should have been an honor. Leader of the Inquisitorial Squad, her father had been so proud when she told him Umbridge herself gave Draceana the position. He told her to not tarnish the family’s name, and that only made the weight of that responsibility press upon her shoulders even more. Then, the stares came. The glowering, the glares, the space that everyone made sure was between them and her at all times. Only the fellow members of the squad remained close, but too often had she heard of them abusing their position, targeting those she knew they held grudges against, finding any excuse to make their lives miserable while gloating all the while. She tried to stop it, but there was only so much that she could do. Too much pressure against the squad and they would begin to question her authority, wonder why she was telling them to stop focusing on Gryffindor, the enemy, so much. Word would eventually find her father and… she couldn’t disappoint him. So, she weathered the growing loneliness, the isolation that clutched to her like a second skin, even in the presence of her own House. If this was her father’s wishes, then she could handle anything. Then she saw the hate in Harry’s eyes. The Inquisitorial Squad were with Professor Umbridge when she pulled Harry out of the fireplace. When the headmistress threw Harry against her table, he saw Draceana at the windowsill, saw his wand in her hand. There had always been betrayal in his eyes, ever since this blasted badge was pinned to her chest, but there was always some hint of understanding, like he knew the kind of pressure she was under. That was gone, and the look that filled them when he looked at her in that moment was cold, yet seared her soul down to her core. The glimmer she glimpsed at the ball last year, which she didn’t know she had been clinging onto so desperately, was gone, and that pain in her chest was no longer dull. She fought to keep it from showing in her face, unable to know how successful she was as The Inquisitorial Squad funneled into Umbridge’s office. Each of them gripped a member of Harry’s group in their hands and moved them towards Millicent Bulstrode, who had Hermione pinioned against the wall. Ron, Ginny, and Luna were merely restrained, their struggling to no avail, but Crabbe dragged Neville into the room in a stranglehold, the boy looking in imminent danger of suffocation. All four of them had been gagged. “Got ‘em all.” Warrington shoved Ron further into the office. “That one,” he shoved a thick finger at Neville, “tried to stop me taking her,” he pointed at Ginny, who was trying to kick the shins of the large girl holding her, “so I brought him along too.” Draceana saw the concern that flashed across Harry’s face when he turned to Ginny in that moment, and tried to stop that from driving the dagger in her chest deeper. She failed. “Good, good.” Umbridge turned from Ginny to Ron, a thin smile creeping across her lips. “Well, it looks as though Hogwarts will shortly be a Weasely-free zone, doesn’t it?” Draceana left the windowsill, focusing on keeping her breaths steady. She could feel Umbridge’s eyes upon her, narrowed and searching for what the headmistress already suspected was lying deep inside Draceana. She kept her face still as she crossed the room to approach Crabbe, who was showing her Neville with pride. A cold look settled upon her features. “Take your arm from Longbottom’s neck.” Crabbe regarded her with confusion. “Why?” “He will not be able to answer questions if he is unconscious. He is gagged already, you need not waste the effort to stop any unwanted words from him.” The large Slytherin boy didn’t let go, uncertainty creasing his brow. She lifted her wand and placed it on Neville’s chest. “If he tries to make a break for it, I will stun him.” Neville glared at her, but she remained unfazed. Crabbe stared at her for a moment, sighed, then released the stranglehold to switch to restraining his captive’s arms. Draceana lowered her wand and turned around, taking position in front of the squad. She had hoped to see Harry’s features be softer than when he glared at her before, but his scowl was even deeper now. Her eyes looked above him, unable to meet his anymore. Umbridge smiled at her with satisfaction, then flicked her wand to clip Harry’s legs together and bind his arms at his side. She levitated him towards the center of the office while settling herself into a chintz-covered armchair, blinking at her captives. The woman truly looked like a toad. “So, Potter.” The headmistress crossed her legs. “You stationed lookouts around my office and you sent this buffoon," she nodded at Ron, “to tell me the poltergeist was wreaking havoc in the Transfiguration department when I knew perfectly well that he was busy sneaking ink on the eyepieces of all the school telescopes, Mr. Filch having just informed me so.” She smacked the top of her desk. “Clearly, it was very important for you to talk to somebody. Was it Albus Dumbledore? Or the half-breed, Hagrid? I doubt it was Minerva McGonagall, I hear she is still too ill to talk to anyone…” Umbridge giggled at that, a sickly sweet sound. The rest of the Inquisitorial Squad laughed with her, but Draceana remained silent. She was too focused on the rage that shook Harry. He struggled against his restraints. “It’s none of your business who I talk to.” Umbridge's slack face tightened. “Very well.” The tone in her voice retained that noxiously sweet cadence, but a dangerous edge had grown under it. “Very well, Mr. Potter… I offered you the chance to tell me freely. You refused. I have no alternative to force you. Draceana - fetch Professor Snape.” She turned almost immediately at the order, the urge to rush out of the room contained to crisp steps that took her into the hallway. Her heart slammed against her chest, the rush of emotions rooting her in place as she leaned on the wall for support. She could feel the tears welling in her eyes, but refused to let them fall. She couldn’t show them, not to anyone. No one would understand… he wouldn’t understand, and that thought alone nearly made her fail in her efforts. Draceana took a few moments to slow her now labored breathing, only finding mild success. She let her feet guide her to Professor Snape’s office, doing her best to clear her mind when she approached his door. She knocked three times, the sound thundering against ears that did not wish to hear. “Who is it?” Draceana slowly opened the door, finding Snape at his desk. He held his usual impassive expression, but tilted his head at the sight of her. Her idle eyes spotted a small vial of clear liquid on his desk, the look of it familiar, but her thoughts were in such disarray that she spent no effort trying to recall it. Snape leaned back in his chair. “Ms. Malfoy? What brings you here at this hour?” “The Headmistress wishes to see you in her office, Professor.” She kept her voice low to hide its tremble. “...Potter has got up to something, hasn’t he?” She nodded slowly. A long sigh left through Snape’s nose. “We’d best not keep her waiting, then.” Draceana guided the professor back to Umbridge’s office in silence. She could feel his eyes on her, searching, but not a word left him as she spent the walk trying to ready her face. It was barely still when they arrived, but she kept her head low when opening the door, just in case. Snape walked past her, and to her surprise, kept himself between her and Umbridge. “You wanted to see me, Headmistress?” He looked at the captives in the room, his face completely indifferent. “Ah, Professor Snape.” Umbridge smiled widely and stood up from her chair. “Yes, I would like another bottle of Veritaserum, as quick as you can, please.” Draceana’s brow rose. That vial she spied on Snape’s desk… truth serum. Snape observed the headmistress through his greasy curtains of black hair. “You took my last bottle to interrogate Potter.” Draceana stopped her head from snapping up. Snape rubbed his chin. “Surely you did not use it all? I told you that three drops would be sufficient.” Umbridge flushed. “You can make some more, can’t you?” Her voice became more sweetly girlish, like it always had when she was furious. “Certaintly,” Snape’s lip curled, “It takes a full moon cycle to mature, so I should have it ready for you in around a month.” “A month?” Her tone became a squawk, and she swelled like a toad. “A month? But I need it this evening, Snape! I have just found Potter using my fire to communicate with a person or persons unknown!” “Really?” Snape turned to Harry, a brow raised with the first, but faint, sign of interest. “Well, It doesn’t surprise me. Potter has never shown much inclination to follow school rules.” Snape’s cold, dark eyes bored into Harry’s, who met his gaze without flinching. Harry appeared to be concentrating on something, but perhaps that was his scowl just deepening upon seeing his least favorite professor. “I wish to interrogate him!” The shout shattered the last of Umbridge’s composure. “I wish you to provide me with a potion that will force him to tell me the truth!” Snape turned away from Harry and at the headmistress's quivering face. “I already told you that I have no further stocks of Veritaserum. Unless you wish to poison Potter - and I assure you I would have the greatest sympathy with you if you did - I cannot help you. The only trouble is that most venoms act too fast to give the victim much time for truth-telling…” He turned back to Harry, his eyes narrowing. “You are on probation!” Professor Umbridge’s shriek made Snape look back at her, his eyebrows slightly raised. “You are being deliberately unhelpful! I expected better, Lucius Malfoy always speaks most highly of you! Now get out of my office!” Snape gave her a bow, the air of it almost smug, and turned to leave. “He’s got Padfoot!” The shout escaped Harry’s lips that it made Draceana jump. “He’s got Padfoot at the place where it’s hidden!” Snape stopped at the door, his hand on the handle. “Padfoot?” Umbridge looked between Snape and Harry with a manic glee. “What is Padfoot? Where what is hidden? What does he mean, Snape?” The professor turned around towards Harry, his face inscrutable. “I have no idea. Potter, when I want nonsense shouted at me I shall give you a Babbling Beverage.” He spirited out of the room, closing the door behind him with a snap. Despair flashed across Harry’s face, but Umbridge did not seem to notice amidst the rage and frustration that heaved her chest. “Very well.” She pulled out her want. ““Very well . . . I am left with no alternative. . . . This is more than a matter of school discipline. . . . This is an issue of Ministry security. . . . Yes . . . yes . . .” The headmistress was clearly talking to herself, but that only filled Draceana with worry. Umbridge shifted her weight nervously from foot to foot, staring at Harry, beating her wand against her empty palm and breathing heavily. “You are forcing me, Potter. . . . I do not want to, but sometimes circumstances justify the use . . . I am sure the Minister will understand that I had no choice. . . .” Draceana felt the dread in her chest surge. Umbridge’s words left in barely a whisper. “The Cruciatus Curse ought to loosen your tongue.” The protest was already on her tongue, on the cusp of shattering everything right there, the consequences be damned. Hermione saved her. “No!” The girl struggled against Millicent. “Professor Umbridge - it’s illegal!” Her words did nothing to deter the headmistress. There was a nasty, eager, excited look on her face that Draceana had never seen before. She raised her wand. “The Minister wouldn’t want you to break the law, Professor Umbridge!” Hermione’s voice was strained. “What Cornelius doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” Umbridge was now panting slightly, pointing her wand at different parts of Harry’s body in turn. It was clear that she was trying to decide what would hurt the most. “He never knew I ordered dementors after Potter last summer, but he was delighted to be given the chance to expel him, all the same. . .” Harry gasped. “It was you?! You sent the dementors after me?!” “Somebody had to act!” Umbridge’s wand came to rest, pointing at Harry’s forehead. Draceana’s hand reached for her wand. “They were all bleating about silencing you somehow - discrediting you - but I was the one who actually did something about it. . . . Only you wriggled out of that one, didn’t you, Potter? Not today, though, not now . . .” Umbridge took a deep breath, and Draceana’s wand was already halfway out of her robes. “Cruc-” “NO!” Hermione threw herself as far forward as she could before Millicent pulled her back. “No - Harry - Harry, we’ll have to tell her!” Draceana’s hand trembled as her hand slipped back down. She had been saved by Hermione, again. “No way!” Harry struggled against his restraints.” “We’ll have to, Harry, she’ll force it out of you anyway, what’s . . . what’s the point. . . ?” Hermione began to cry weakly, bringing a disgusted look to Millicent’s face. The larger girl just held her in place, her captive sobbing as she fell to her knees. An act, one that anyone swept up in triumph wouldn’t notice, but Draceana knew despair, felt it deep within her at this very moment, and knew that Hermione’s was false. Despite that, she kept silent. “Well, well, well!” The look on Umbridge’s face bordered on ecstasy. “Little Miss Question-All is going to give us some answers! Come on then, girl, come on!” “Er-my-nee-no!” Ron’s shout was barely intelligible through his gag. Ginny stared at Hermione with a gaze that looked like she was seeing her for the first time. Neville stared as well, but Harry… Harry was quiet. He had noticed something, he had to have. Still Draceana said nothing. She looked at the Inquisitorial Squad, and saw that they only looked smug, too high upon their airs to pay any attention at all. “I’m - I’m sorry everyone.” Hermioned kept her face looking towards the floor. “But - I can’t stand it.” “That’s right, that’s right, girl!” Umbridge seized Hermione by the shoulders and pulled her from the ground before thrusting her into the abandoned chintz chair. She planted her hands on the arms and leaned over the girl, a manic thirst in her eyes. “Now then… with whom was Potter communicating just now?” “Well,” Hermione covered her face with her hands, “well, he was trying to speak to Professor Dumbledore…” Ron froze, his eyes wide; Ginny stopped trying to stamp on her captor’s toes; even Luna looked mildly surprised. Everyone else was too focused on Hermione to notice all these signs, but Draceana had seen them as clear as day. Still, she kept silent and looked where everyone else did. “Dumbledore?” Umbridge leaned in. “You know where Dumbledore is, then?” “Well… no!” Hermione sobbed into her fingers. “We’ve tried the Leaky Cauldron in Diagon Alley and the Three Broomsticks and even the Hog’s Head-” “Idiot girl, Dumbledore won’t be sitting in a pub when the whole Ministry’s looking for him!” Umbridge had nearly started to push the chair over, disappointment deepening her wrinkles. “But - but we needed to tell him something important!” Hermione’s grip over her face tightened. To hide the tears that she could not fake enough to bring, no doubt. “Yes?” Umbridge rocked the chair back and forth before grabbing the girl’s shoulders and shaking her. “What’s ready, girl?” “The…the weapon.” “Weapon? Weapon?!” The headmistress’s eyes popped with excitement. “You have been developing some method of resistance? A weapon you could use against the Ministry? On Professor Dumbledore’s orders, of course?” “Y-y-yes!” Hermione kept her eyes from meeting Umbridge’s. “But he had to leave before it was finished and n-n-now we’ve finished it for him, and we c-c-can’t find him t-t-to tell him!” “What kind of weapon is it?” Umbridge’s fingers dug deeper into Hermione’s shoulders. The girl sniffed loudly. “We don’t r-r-really understand it. We j-j-just did what P-P-Professor Dumbledore told us t-t-to do . . .” Umbridge sprung up, exultation making her board stiff. “Lead me to the weapon.” Hermione looked at the Inquisitorial Squad through her fingers, but froze for a moment when she met Draceana’s. There was a spark of fear in the muggle girl’s eyes, a recognition that Draceana may not be buying what she was putting on. The squad leader gave no betrayal of anything and merely stepped back, making an act of checking on Neville’s gag. Hermione’s act resumed without pause. “I’m not showing… them.” Umbridge clicked her teeth. “It is not for you to set conditions.” “Fine!” Hermione sobbed even louder into her hands. “Fine . . . let them see it, I hope they use it on you! In fact, I wish you’d invite loads and loads of people to come and see! Th-that would serve you right - oh, I’d love it if the wh-whole school knew where it was, and how to u-use it, and then if you annoy any of them they’ll be able to s-sort you out!” Those words practically slapped Umbridge. The headmistress glanced swiftly around the room, suspicion towards the Inquisitorial Squad bulging her eyes until she looked upon Draceana. She betrayed nothing on her face, but looked Umbridge up and down slowly, deliberately, before meeting her gaze. The headmistress contemplated Hermione’s words for another long moment and straightened herself up before putting on a shrill tone that she must have assumed as motherly. “All right, dear, let’s make it just you and me . . . and we’ll take Potter too, shall we? Get up, now-” “Headmistress,” Draceana stepped towards her quickly, “I think some of the squad should come with you to look after-” Umbridge stepped back. “I am a fully qualified Ministry official, Malfoy, do you really think I cannot manage two wandless teenagers alone? In any case, it does not sound as though this weapon is something that schoolchildren should see. You will remain here until I return and make sure none of these” - she gestured at Ron, Ginny, Neville, and Luna - “escape.” Draceana looked her coldly in the eye, then bowed. “Of course, Headmistress.” “And you two can go ahead of me and show me the way,” Umbridge released Harry’s restraints and pointed at him and Hermione with her wand. “Lead on. . .” Silence filled the minutes after Umbridge left with them, filled with nothing but glares from the captives that met with the grins of the Inquisitorial Squad. Draceana’s eyes were focused on the door, not leaving it for some time. “So… uh, what should we do with them?” Crabbe shoved Neville towards her. Draceana took in a deep breath. “Let us take them to Professor Snape. He should be able to think of something.” “But he’s on probation.” “And will be more willing to make the punishments harsher to get back in the headmistress’s good favor, don’t you think?” She forced a smile, feeling sick to her stomach. Crabbe’s eyes brightened. “You’re right, that’s smart.” “Of course it is, now move.” They funneled into the hallway, the struggling of their captive growing more frantic as they made their way through the castle. No doubt they wanted to go help Harry with all their might. He had that effect on people… on her. Neville especially, struggled the hardest, squirming so hard that even Crabbe was having a hard time. Draceana did nothing, waiting until they were in a hallway out of other student’s sights, dark enough that it would be confusing to see what happened. Neville pulled extra hard in this hallway, and in that moment, Draceana sent a silent hex towards Crabbe’s foot. The larger boy toppled over, and in that brief moment he was free, Neville pulled his gag from his mouth, pulled his wand from Crabbe, and pointed it at Warrington. “Impedimenta!” Chaos erupted around them, strings of curses, charms, and hexes that slipped through the darkened hallway, illuminating it in the brief flashes of multicolored light that signaled the cast of a spell. Their frequency grew more as their captives freed themselves one by one, and Draceana only made the smallest of shows of resisting. All she could feel was hatred. Hatred for the badge on her chest. Hatred for the “honor” that put her here. Hatred for Umbridge’s sickly sweet voice. Hatred for everything… but as she saw Ginny facing her, the Weasley’s wand raised, what she hated most was that even after all of this, she wouldn’t be the one to help Harry, and the light in his eyes would still never be hers. She dropped his wand onto the floor, making the motion of going to cast a spell, and allowed the hex to strike her down.