Gilderoy Lockhart poked his head around the corner, then rapidly pulled it back. He dropped to the ground as spells blazed through the now-empty doorway. Lockhart cautiously raised himself back to a crawl and shuffled back a pace or two.

"I count five of them," he said. "A praesidium spell as their major defense, beyond that they are just using the beds for cover."

Auror Frank Wellington, a tall wiry man, with energy like someone had captured a lightning bolt and frozen it in place, shook his head. "Those bed frames are enchanted, too. Not totally impenetrable, but they'll stop most things."

Professor Flitwick let out an exasperated sigh, which came out as a mid-pitch squeak. Wellington just shrugged his shoulders. "It's meant to be a defensible position."

Flitwick, Lockhart and the three Aurors conferred. The Praesidium would block any spell moving too quickly, but a slow spell could get through. It also didn't stop anything physical.

The small-ish Auror, whose name Gilderoy had forgotten, said "The only real option is to charge, and we'd be sitting ducks. The rest of the squads are coming into from the back, we'll have numbers shortly."

"Listen, Todd," said Christine, the third Auror, "You know what they say about the job, two years of boredom for two minutes of terror. I didn't sign up to miss out on my two minutes."

Gilderoy chuckled. He did know Christine - they'd been in Ravenclaw together. Their months together weren't boring. And they'd had at least five minutes of terror of being discovered. She'd been a firecracker as a young woman, and that hadn't changed. Still...Gilderoy agreed with Todd. He was about to raise the point when there was a rustling from the hallway behind him and he spun, quickly adjusting his custodiet shield to protect against an ambush. Theoretically there were only Hogwarts professors and Aurors behind him, but ...

Gilderoy Lockhart stopped mid-spell as Hermione Granger skidded to a halt.

"General Granger," Gilderoy said, still wearing the smile he'd had from his earlier reminiscing.

"Go away, Miss," said Frank, "This isn't the place for students."

"Polyjuice," whispered Flitwick quietly, reminding everyone. Hermione had her hands up, but gave no sign of leaving.

"I can help, Professor, I can!" She didn't plead. Hermione Granger seems twice her age. Either its not her or this is personal, Gilderoy thought.

"Tell me something only Hermione Granger would know."

"Uh, during Christmas Break we ran into each other at The Tragedy of Light and Narcissa was mad at Draco and tried to insult me with some floriography, so I just ..."

"Anyone could have read about that in the gossip sheets, Miss Granger," Professor Lockhart said.

"They printed that?" Hermione gasped in a voice squeakier than Flitwick's, before turning bright red..

"...but no imposter would use that particular phrasing. Or blush so much," Gilderoy finished as he lowered his wand, nodding to the scowling Aurors. Hermione ran over. Professor Flitwick stood in her way, preventing her from advancing any further towards the door, face stern.

"Listen, Lockhart," said Christine, and the use of his last name grabbed his attention, "we're in charge and I'm not going to let a student..."

Gilderoy shushed her and waved his hand, then bent down and huddled next to Hermione, "We need to outflank them. Miss Granger, can your Phoenix move us into position? There are wards around Peverell, but it's possible to move inside those wards, if not through them. If we step one foot in..."

"They trapped him!" she started to describe what had happened, but Gilderoy stopped listening and after a few more words Hermione Granger collapsed from his wordless Somnium. He caught her gently.

"Seriously, Christine," Gilderoy shook his head, "Do you really think I'd let a second year charge into battle? I'll drag her back to safety. Horace should have has stock of potions back in the staging area, and I think some explosive draughts and caligo noctus should work nicely."

Gilderoy Lockhart easily picked up the limp form of Hermione Granger, glancing at the wand still clasped in her hand. "And I'll give Pomona her wand back. What have you been up to, Miss Granger?" he chuckled.

"Bring along some House Elves," said Frank, "in case they get desperate and start flinging killing curses."

Gilderoy nodded as he rushed back towards the infirmary.

Selwyn's vision dropped out instantly as black smoke flooded into the room. He'd seen the fragile flasks as they'd arced to various corners of the room and shouted out a warning. Selwyn kept his left hand on the robed figure next to him, so that he could tell if she got hit or move away, while he counted in his head eins zwei drei. Selwyn fired off several spells at the doorway. The room exploded with noise, a weaponized Sonorus spell that Aurors world-wide used to intimidate crowds. They'd prepared for that, of course. His shields automatically muted any dangerously loud sounds, but still allow him to hear as the footsteps moved. The witch next to him was spraying area effect curses to the left of the doorway and Selwyn heard a shield crackling, so he shifted and fired to the left. Already the fog was disappearing, it would be gone soon.

"They are through," he cried out in German. They wouldn't release the fog until they were all in. "Fall back while we have cover!" Selwyn got up, turned and ran, careful to jump over the corpse he knew was beside him. He easily jumped, but his legs felt strangely numb and seemed sluggish. When he landed his right leg wasn't positioned properly and gave out from under him. Selwyn raised his arms to protect his face from the impact of landing, but his right arm moved a bit sluggishly and he cracked his face against the floor.

Selwyn looked down at his leg and he could see that he'd broken his right leg when he'd landed. That should hurt he thought, as he tried to scramble up, but his motions were like trying to swim in a pool of syrup, slow and awkward. The fog had cleared and he was out in the open and Selywn tried to drag himself away as he could hear them screaming for him to get up.

But no spell hit me was Selwyn's final thought as the Aurors closed in and fired slow moving draining spells.

"Draco!" Gilderoy's face edged towards a smile, then quickly turned to a frown as he strode towards his student, who stood poking one of the blood red stones on the floor with his cane to move it into the pile of known fakes. By now word of the Midas curse had spread.

Gilderoy continued "What are you doing here, Draco?"

The Aurors were busy securing the remaining prisoners, carefully avoiding the other seven or eight red stones scattered around the room. Draco turned and looked at him for a second, confusion on his face. Draco knows everyone, Gilderoy thought as he screamed out "Imposter!" and raised his wand. The surrounding Aurors - adrenaline still fresh and flowing through their systems - all shifted wands, about to fire at somebody, anybody, as 'Draco' dove behind the nearest bed.

"Orion Elbow Purple," screamed 'Draco.' "Orion Elbow Purple!"

Gilderoy's spell streaked through the air where 'Draco' had stood while a rush of Aurors lowered their wands, shouting that Draco was an Auror.

Gilderoy noted several Aurors aimed wands on him, though at least one still had 'Draco' in his sights.

He spoke slowly and deliberately. "That is not Draco."

"I'm Auror Mike Li," came Draco's voice. "The password of the day is Orion Elbow Purple! The Aurors in the room are Frank Wellington, Aleister Seville, uh..." Draco's head poked over the bed as he glanced around the room, "Christine King is just walking into the room. I don't know you, the tall one, but you don't work in Peverell..."

The tall one said "Nicodemus Salamander."

Gilderoy's wand stayed up. "Attackers Polyjuiced as students," he said, voice unsure.

"And Professors," said one of the Aurors. Gilderoy lowered his wand. "I suppose we just need to keep each other in sight for the next few hours until it wears off. Or doesn't, in my case."

As they sized each other up, Christine walked over and said. "I'll vouch for him, we went to school together. This is Professor Lockhart. Gilderoy. I found Draco ... he's in the other room."

Gilderoy looked at her. "I'm sorry," she said, face ashen. Gilderoy Lockhart ran into the other room.

Draco Malfoy was sprawled face up on the ground with a surprised look etched on his face. His cane was still in his hand. As soon as he saw it, Gilderoy spun on the following 'Draco,' who had his hands up in surrender. "How is it that..."

"He gave me a copy of his cane during the attack," Mike Li said, but already his form was bubbling and growing to full size, and Gilderoy could see in the corner of his eyes that the other Aurors recognized the former Draco. "He'd been doing a security test, he just happened to be here during the attack..." As the Auror continued speaking he stretched out and grew, skin and hair darkening as he reverted back to his true form, and Gilderoy's hand dropped, wand drooping almost to the ground.

"I was supposed to protect him," Lockhart said morosely.

A sly chuckle came from a bound figure lying on the ground, a blonde witch with splotchy complexion. Two Aurors were still securing her. "He'd have died in any case, once he'd finished betraying you..." she laughed.

Gilderoy's eyes narrowed and his wand barely had to move at all as he hissed out the word Crucio.

The witch's scream pierced through the room for thirty seconds before the Aurors broke through Lockhart's shields.

Harry sat back in his chair, throat sore. Amelia Bones and Headmistress McGonagall exchanged a glance. Professor Asimov, who had been staring at the ceiling, returned his gaze to the assembled crowd.

"Anyway," Harry said, "That's pretty much the end. They found Draco's body next to the real Philosopher's Stone, and what with all the Midnight Fog and the chaos of battle, it's an open question if that body belongs to Draco, or he managed to grab the stone and permanently PolyJuice into someone else's form and that body is someone we assumed burned to death in the Fiendfyre."

Harry waited for crosstalk and challenges that never came. Hermione's face, set like granite, gave no indication of any emotion. Harry knew Professor Asimov wouldn't volunteer any suggestion, although he had expected more questions. Ignorance doesn't indicate a problem, just a lack of knowledge. The Headmistress seemed annoyed by Harry's version of her defense. She hadn't done anything wrong, but she still blames herself for not finding a way to save Neville. Harry suspected this was another time when Minerva wanted someone to lash out at her, but she'd been blameless. She's growing into her new position well, and if she is no Albus Dumbledore ... well, few are.

Harry sighed internally, people are so afraid of going first and looking foolish. "I can't believe you don't have questions. When I went through the full transcripts I had dozens."

"Such as?" The Headmistress asked.

Harry shook his head, "I don't want to prejudice things."

Hermione didn't say anything. She and Harry had already argued what it meant that her pouch and wand had been next to her bed when she awoke. Draco had apparently sent it up there at some point during the night. Harry just said that it means that Draco knew he couldn't smuggle them into Peverell, and thankfully didn't realize what he'd gotten. Draco had managed to acquire two of the three Deathly Hallows before even setting foot in Peverell, and he'd given both back. To Harry's mind, that meant Draco never even knew what he'd done. Hermione argued he'd done that fighting the Imperius. Now she'd conceded the point.

She argued against Draco last Spring, Harry thought. Now she defends him. But he understood the impulse. Harry still felt the urge to defend Draco. Why can't I ever have an enemy I instinctively dislike?

Amelia Bones spoke first, "What was Draco's original plan?"

Harry nodded, "I don't know. I can't see how this works unless Draco had a full fledged battle raging around him. He can't get at his equipment without some distraction. Part of me thinks Draco always intended Neville to die," Harry shot Hermione a glance, but again her face revealed nothing, "but he may have had another trick up his sleeve."

"Why now," Hermione asked quietly.

Harry nodded, "That's been troubling me. Undoubtedly the exact timing is convenience, but something changed. Maybe Draco just felt that he couldn't let things go on. It may be that the discovery of the Map gave him the impetus. I'm going to question Lockhart and Slughorn tomorrow. Maybe they can shed some light on this."

"If Draco did escape," asked Professor Asimov, "How?"

"Well, if he was Polyjuiced he may have just gotten away in the final minutes and walked out. He had to be gone before the full investigation, because then Aurors were checking everyone with Legillmency. But he could have dived out a hole. Even then, he'd have to make his way to the wards to avoid the anti-Portkey measures the Aurors raised around Hogwarts. Still, I can think of several ways around that. It doesn't matter too much, although it is an interesting question."

Harry couldn't bring himself to admit which answer he hoped was true. IF Draco lived.

"Auror Li didn't see a Portkey among Draco's items," said the Headmistress.

"Which may just mean that he didn't recognize it. That fits with Draco's modus operandi during the entire affair. We also don't know what Draco's third potion was. In any case, how Draco left isn't really as much of a concern as how we handle the fact that Draco might still be alive."

"You want us to announce that Draco survived?" Amelia Bones sounded incredulous.

"No!" Harry said abruptly, "Sorry, that wasn't my intent. We have to decide what we're going to do about the current situation. All of this happened because Draco didn't trust me. And, well, we've been lying. For a good cause, but I just thought perhaps we lay out my past to the Wizengamot and ..."

Now the room explodes in cross talk and challenges, Harry thought as the voices climbed over each other.

"Absolutely not," said Minerva McGonagall over the others, silencing them. "As someone who has experienced Harry Potter first hand, you do have your charms. But your natural tendencies make people slow to warm up to you and quick to judge. If they believed you were Voldemort, they would stop thinking."

"They would remember that you frightened a Dementor," Amelia Bones said, "and naturally go 'Aha! Of course!' Well, obviously Lord Voldemort frightens Dementors, that makes sense. It's a convenient, easy to believe narrative."

"Hermione destroyed five Dementors," Harry said, but he said it softly. He'd brought the others in for their political advice. It would be foolish to just reject it out of hand. "In any case, the story is already out there. If we say that yes, magically speaking I'm ... Voldemort's son, say ... we can point out I wasn't raised by him and his sins are not mine."

"Dumbledore knew," Hermione said, "and he didn't tell anyone."

Harry shook his head. "Dumbledore cheated, Hermione. He clearly had extra-temporal information that he used to maneuver me. Which means we can't really base our of decision making, apart from a moral standpoint, on him."

The discussion flared, growing more heated, before dimming again, and they did not break until well past midnight.