It had been weeks, though it felt like ages. As spring turned to summer, and summer to fall, the voice whispering through the cupboard grew more and more agitated. "When then?" Was repeated. "When then? When will it be right?" He then preached about the importance of timing, and how the most victorious were often the most patient. To this, the pressing witch would bow her head in disdain and mutter to herself about the questionable decisions of the Dark Lord. She was his aunt, but he knew she would be the first to curse him if he made even the smallest incantation of a false move. Bellatrix Lestrange didn't care if one was her own flesh and blood, her loyalty was determined by Voldemort.

Luckily, he'd been able to buy himself time with his speeches and his mother's defensive backbone. Time for what exactly, he wasn't sure. He hadn't told anyone about the vanishing cabinet, not Crabb, Goyle, not even Pansy. He was supposed to. He was supposed to spread the word of the impending infiltration so the young members associated with the Death Eaters would be ready to fight if necessary; yet, he didn't. He was also ordered to invite the attacking party as soon as Hogwarts was accessible, but he didn't. Why? He couldn't quite put his finger on it. As he meandered the halls alone-looking for nothing but a place to go, a place to move forward to, a place far from where he was-he ignored this question, and continued to do the only thing that felt right: walking. Time after time again, Filch would ask "What are you doing out of bed?" in which he'd respond "I don't know." The Squib thought he was being a smart ass, but in reality he was just telling the truth. He might be a Slytherin, a member of the house stereotyped for lying and cheating, but he was no liar; at least, not directly.

He considered himself more of an actor than anything. He acted as though every year, despite his emotions growing broader and his mind expanding wider to find reasoning and empathy, he went unbothered by the types of things his father would say at the dinner table. He also acted as though he didn't notice his mother's expression mirrored his own, but she did much better to hide it under a napkin as she'd had several more years of practice. He acted like he approved when he saw a serpent, the animal that represented him and his qualities, attack a woman and kill her while she writhed in her own blood. He acted as though he were unafraid. The fear came in waves, like a rising tide. Every year was a little more, than a little more. But as he crept up on his 17th birthday, the fear became worse every day, every hour it seemed. Somehow, he was able to convince those around him that his shaking was a symptom of excitement due to the upcoming 'reunion'. He wore a cape of darkness and smiled through the folds. But soon, he'd said it so many times he had himself convinced. However, this masking elation didn't last long. For he remembered all the times as a boy when he was happy. He remembered riding on a broom for the first time with his father. He remembered how he felt when he came home from school first year and the house elves had prepared his favorite meal as a welcome home celebration. The events didn't have him vomiting in the middle of the night. They didn't give him nightmares. They didn't chronically turn him as white as the ghost he wished he was. They didn't make him afraid to come home. The gamekeeper always spoke about how Hogwarts is the safest place. He always disagreed because being with your parents, the people who love you and who will always take care of you, are the people who know you the most and who will protect you. Right? As he came to find out, the gameskeeper-who he constantly called an oaf-was right, over his 12 year old ignorant self. Hogwarts was not home, it was far from it, and that's why he felt safe.

They couldn't reach him there; the couldn't command for him to do things there. Hot breath down the back of your neck wasn't a constant pressure when there was no one there to breathe. It wasn't like the breath breathing down his neck right now.

They expected him to be loyal, they expected him to fulfill his duties; it was the end of the year, he'd run out of time. The fear of being caught by one (or several) of the teachers while roaming the halls with some of the most wanted criminals nipping at your heels while you searched for Dumbledore wasn't anything compared to what was happening now.

He felt her cold hand on the back of his shoulder as she leaned in close, facing the same man he had his wand pointed at. "Come on, Draco." Bellatrix said, sneering. "Do it."

Looking into kind, blue eyes, a squeak escaped his throat. Every bone in his body was screaming for him to lower his wand, the very piece which felt like stone in his hand. The night was cool, the stars welcoming and the slight breeze blew air into his overhung mouth, but the boy could not find his ability to breathe. He knows. Draco thought. He's figured me out; he knows.

"Draco, please," he began, "You don't have to do this. Lower your wand, son."

He knew why Draco was always alone. He knew why he was seemingly obsessed with a boy who could have no interference in his life if he chose so. These corresponded with the same reason he spoke a little too loud with Snape after Slughorn's party that night. "I can't." Tears dampened his face, the cold then chilling them against his face. "I have to do this."

"Draco-" Bellatrix snarled from the other side of the balcony. He couldn't look at her. The blond drew in a breath, his hand shaking in front of him. Dumbledore stared at him with such a gentleness in his expression it seemed as though, instead of standing in their current places, they were at a lovely Christmas party and he'd just given him a gift. "I said do it, Draco!" Her shrill voice sounded again and he closed his eyes.

"You always have a choice-"

"He knows what his choice is!" The crazed woman began to argue with the headmaster. She approached from behind the young wizard with such a gait, he thought she was going to push him over and finish the job herself. His thoughts stifled her further argument.

He looked to his left, and then to his right. Rowle, Smith, Clausson, Bellatrix, and Snape, all there with him; five highly trained, lethal Death Eaters and a 17 year old, whose dark mark still had a rash around it from the inking. The sudden shout of his name snapped him from his trance. When he looked up, he witnessed the fire ripping through his aunt's eyes while she stood there with her wand angled at her side. You cannot run from fire, not when your only other direction is off a cliff into crashing waves a hundred feet below. However, you also can't run into fire. What was he to do? Jump into the water knowing the possibility of getting swept in the current, or remain still, forever burning in the flames? A warmth spread through his stomach, a warmth that melted the ice which had taken root. His heart began to beat faster and he was alive for the first time in months. One last tear rolled down his cheek. It toppled off at his chin, and a single drop splattered on the wood below.

"Stupefy!" He screamed, suddenly thrusting his wand in a different direction. Bellatrix was blown backwards and her limp body hit the support beam behind her. The wand of the biggest threat rolled from its master's hand.

And there were lights everywhere. Draco was pushed back by a force that didn't feel like a spell, but an arm. His back stung as it slapped against the ground. Regaining position and sitting up he saw Severus Snape, his potions master, standing in front of him. For a brief moment he watched. Snape redirected a stunning spell from Rowle so that it hit Clausson. Unfortunately for Clausson, the spell blew him far over the railing of the tower.

"Go, Malfoy!" He directed. The teen, in utter shock of what he'd just done, could do nothing but stare at the man's back as he dueled. He was so dazed, he barely had enough focus to throw himself in the opposite direction of a green light that'd found its way around his protector. "I said go!"

Shook back into reality by the killing curse, he scrambled to his feet with his wand in hand and made it to the spiral staircase. As soon as his foot reached the first step, a red light zoomed so close to his ear that he could hear the sizzling of whatever harsh magic the color contained. Just trying to get away he didn't turn back, which was a grand mistake, as he would have seen the bit of blue being hurled at him. It hit him in the lower back, and though the spell itself didn't hurt much, it forced him to go face first tumbling down the staircase. Losing his wand on the way, he groped the area around the floor where his body met the landing. Panicked, his eyes couldn't focus on anywhere long enough to find anything. "Accio-" He shouted, and just as his wand met his hand once again, the floorboards to the right of his head ruptured.

Rowle came stomping down, and leaned over the railing to get a better aim. Once again, Draco shifted his weight to roll on his stomach and away from the next curse. The curse blew past him a little ways before hitting the ground, where it too exploded. As wood shards sprayed the room, he could feel a twinge in his cheek where one of the pieces undoubtedly had sliced him. It seemed as though the dark wizard didn't expect his spell to go that way, as he was seemingly thrown off balance from the force.

"Confingo!" He spat, throwing his arm so hard he thought he might have dislocated it by the time flames erupted from the tip of his wand. Rowle ducked, but the spell hit the wooden banister, which then burst into flames. He then turned his attention to an object which had been revealed shortly after the explosion that he never got the proper chance to look at. It was an ankle, simply peaking out of nothing.

"Potter." Draco mumbled to himself. Though it was an odd sensation, a feeling of relief spread through him. Looking back at the staircase to ensure he had time, he blew the cloak off it's owner and used a counteractive spell to bring mobility back to the boy underneath. The dark haired wizard squirmed to life and grabbed his wand. Draco held up his hands. "Wait! I'm on your side-"

"Everte Statum!" Harry screamed, but it wasn't at him. Still, the blond ducked and turned to see the spell dissolve into the wall while Rowle moved along the baseboards on his hands and knees. Before he had the chance to collect himself, the two boys were throwing curses simultaneously. Draco cast a shield charm over the both of them to protect against what looked like expelliarmus, the then other stunned the Death Eater in his position on the floor. They both looked up when they heard the familiar laugh that resembled nails on a chalkboard; someone had woken Bellatrix. Rushing over to the foot of the stairs, they could see streams of black circling around the height of the tower. While trying to count the force they were up against, Harry was shot at from the top of the staircase and the effort was reciprocated. "How many are there?" He shouted through the chaos.

"I don't know, I can't say for sure." Draco responded, shielding his body with one of the support poles.

"How'd they get in?"

"There's a vanishing cabinet in the room of requirement," A blue light whizzed past his shoulder and a man he recognized began down the stairs. "Glisseo!" The stairs flattened to a slide and the Death Eater slipped, and was then sent sliding down on his back; Harry stunned him on his way down. He turned to him once more. The other narrowed his eyes at him from his post, his mouth left slightly parted in repugnance. Of all the times he'd attacked Harry, in any shape or form, he'd never seen this arrangement of expressions before. Normally, he was stone cold anger that was easy to read, easy to mess with, but this was indecipherable. "I know, it doesn't make sense. But you need to trust me, I'm with y-"

"Yeah, you've proven that." An unsuspecting wizard trampled down, not suspecting the slope. He slipped onto his stomach and before gravity could think about letting him slide Draco froze him solid. Harry looked at him again. "Are they anywhere else in the castle?"

"No, I don't think so."

"Good, let's keep it that way then." He peeked around at the top of the landing, more spells were being shot than ever before. Harry swallowed; it was just Snape and Dumbledore up there. Though the other wasn't yet aware of it, Harry had seen what transpired only moments ago. He saw every move made through the bottom of the staircase. In that he saw that Dumbledore had been right all along; Snape was on their side.

A sudden stream of light hit Draco in the chest, causing him to be blown backwards into the wall behind him. This silent attack drew Harry's attention away from the battle upstairs and to the figures moving about at the end of the corridor. Though he was his new ally, Harry still found some pleasure witnessing Draco get knocked off his feet. Still, he rose his hand and a white light erupted from his wand as he aimed it at the door the attackers had taken cover behind.

"Stupefy!" They recuperated. Harry ducked but did nothing further, he recognized that voice.

"Hermione-" He called out.

"Harry!" She shouted back. He broke out into a wide grin when his two friends emerged from behind the doorway. Whilst, Draco clambered to his feet and moved somewhat behind him, trying to use him as a barricade between the two new soldiers. Ron immediately rose his wand at the sight of the blonde, but Harry rushed forward and seized his best friend's arm.

"Don't. He's with us." He advised. Ron and Hermione looked from one to the other with great concern and confusion. Squinting and staring at Harry, Ron refused to lower his arm completely. Harry stared back. No matter how he worded it, the story of the last hour would take just that to explain; they didn't have that kind of time. "You just have to trust me."

A dark figure came crashing through the railings and landed on the floor at the other end of the room. Before Harry could act, Ron and Hermione were already making their way up to the battleground. He followed suit, but sensed the uncertainty behind him. He pivoted on his heel to look at wizard behind him. The grey eyed boy stood there, looking back and forth between the fight and the door. Why am I wasting my time? Harry thought and immediately turned back around, but as he ran up the steps, he heard those that followed suit. With his hand on the railing, he turned again to find Draco Malfoy straight at his heels. At Harry's gaze, the teen looked down with a mixture of fear and regret etched upon his face. In that moment, Harry almost felt sorry for him.

Both boys looked up when they heard Ron's voice sound from above. Harry's feet trampled up the stairs without grace and by the time he reached the top landing he already had a curse at his lips. It rolled off his tongue and was sent spiraling towards a wizard who looked more like an animal than a man. He could hear a slight squeak behind him as Malfoy laid eyes on him, and within seconds Harry could see why. Standing at his maximum, he appeared extremely tall, taller than Ron, and very well built. The dark wizard laughed as he blocked the spell with ease, and the boys could see his sharpened teeth peeking through his bloody mouth. It was only then did Harry realize members of the Order had come to their rescue, for when he looked at the body crawling out from underneath this man, he recognized the long, ginger hair of Bill Weasley. Malfoy pulled Harry out of the way of a curse, and Ron sped past them in a manner Harry had never seen before.

Curses and words that did not match them flew from Ron's wand and mouth. "That's my brother you-!" He screamed, punctuating every word with a different light. Hermione soon accompanied him. She stood at his side, defending him from the curses coming from all directions he was blind. Now dueling side-by-side with Tonks, Harry watched them. Just like himself, Ron exhibited a nasty habit of letting his emotions fuel him in battle. He attacked one man, and one man only.

"Stop," Bill screamed, holding his pulsing wounds and searching for his wand, "Stop, Ron, Stop!"

From the corner of his eye he saw Snape evaporate into thick smoke and fly straight into a similar looking cloud which had been circling the tower. His eyes ventured across every inch of the tower; Dumbledore was no where to be found.

Hermione could barely keep up with the two Death Eaters who decided to encircle them from behind. She stumbled, her back hitting Ron's, causing the domino effect and him to lurch forward. Defenseless while off her feet, a green light was aimed for her chest. Harry redirected his wand but he was too late.

"Protego-" was shouted from across the room and a glimmering blue barrier was cast over her. Due to his decision to cast his wand in another's direction, Draco Malfoy was hit from the side and flung into the air. A masked man involuntarily broke his fall.

There was a growl, and Bill regained his wand. Attacking the man who tried to kill Hermione, he unexpectedly launched a stunning spell which caused the unsuspecting figure to fly over the banister. Now with only one woman to fight, Hermione stood with her back to Ron once again and, though shaken from the latest event, was able to move adequately.

Tonks, Bill, Lupin, and Fleur helped in defending the tower. Thankfully, Fleur had had her back to her fiancée when he was attacked and she had her back to him now. If she'd seen the blood leaking from his face, Harry was sure her main priority would cease to be the war unfolding in front of her. Even as he was dueling, Harry would notice Tonks whip her head around between spells, undoubtedly looking for Lupin. For a split second, he thought of his parents. His father pushing himself between Voldemort and the entryway leading to his wife. Then his mother screaming his dad's name in desperation, hoping madly that somehow or someway he'd made it through the darkest wizard of that age. He even looked at Ron and Hermione. Ron mercilessly battling his brother's attacker out of anger and doing it well, while Hermione-knowing Ron's and that he won't stop until his vengeance is met-gave him room to breathe but silently aided his quest from behind. This was all very strange to him, because while everyone else seemed to be thinking about those they love, all he could think about was fighting and getting out alive. Of course Ron, Hermione, and Lupin had all crossed his mind. He loved them, all of them, but one person, the person he should have been thinking of most, failed to break through the barrier. Ginny. He thought, but only for a brief moment as a wood panel was thrown his way. He gripped Tonks by the shoulders and took her to the ground with him.

The tide of Death Eaters seemed to have come to halt, but looking around Harry noticed that Malfoy was nowhere to be found. Seeing that Tonks had finally seized the upper hand on the man the two were dueling, Harry turned to see Hermione and Ron in the same position. He couldn't help but grin as he witnessed Ron rebounding every curse thrown at him and using the most unique dueling methods, such as bouncing spells of metal and using the objects around him. Hermione was even footed with the witch she'd taken up, but then did as Rod had done and used the metallic orb to reflect her stunning spell in a manner she couldn't defend herself from. The woman's mask was blown off as she was sent backwards into the hole leading down to the floor below. When she turned, she found Ron had finally disarmed his opponent by none other than kicking him in the arm, causing his wand to go sailing in the air. In a flash of brown hair, Hermione stepped forward to catch it when Bellatrix apperated to the side of them.

"Filthy blood traitor!" She yelled, raising her wand directly at the ginger.

"No," The words Harry whispered escaped his mouth as a defensive spell should have. As Ron turned his head in reaction of being called out, Hermione had already twisted herself around and pressed up against him, using herself as a human shield. Her scream ran through the tower, and Harry could feel the pain she felt as the sound echoed in his heart. In an attempt to catch her, Ron dropped his wand.

Harry's green eyes found Lupin, then Bellatrix and the man Harry finally pieced together as Fenrir Greyback. Both their mouths had corners slightly turned up and eyes narrowed in satisfaction. As Harry rose his wand the two concaved into smoke and disappeared into the sky above them. Harry was thrown forward onto the floor from behind, and he with a quick glance through the pain of his back, he realized Lupin laid motionless in a pile of rubble. One man sent Fleur through the wall behind her, and immediately charged at Ron.

Cradling Hermione in his arms, he looked up with merely a flicker of the eye. Harry then began to think he got hit too hard, because as soon as Ron's eyes met those of the charging man, he stopped in his tracks. His mouth parted and noise came from deep within his throat. Ron's eyes narrowed and crimson began to line the man's lips. His eyes bulged as he struggled to breathe, both hands reached up to grab at his neck, leaving his wand free for gravity to take. Ron lunged his hand it the air and summoned it before it hit the ground. In a fluid motion, starting from when it reached the palm of his hand, he rung it around his head and threw a flash of white light. The man was sent into the air.

Harry struggled with a man on top of him. He hurt from the curse, his back stung, ached, and his whole body was exhausted; yet he fought on. Somehow, wands had been discarded and they were left using their hands. His knuckles hurt after he managed to get one good punch in, but that pain was much more tolerable than that of another's fist to the teeth or temple. Due to the cloaked man's tight grip, he was slightly lifted off the ground when the man was blown off him. Though his vision was spinning, he was expecting to be able to make out Ron or Tonks as his savior, but instead he saw Malfoy emerging from the staircase. He rolled over and retrieved his wand but when he sat up he realized there was no one left to fight.

Battered and bloody, everyone crowded in the center. Everyone except Lupin, who was waking from his slumber with a moan, and Ron, who had been pushed aside and was now sitting on the ground being supported by the wall behind him. His legs were bent at the knee and his hands, drenched in blood that was not his own, shielded his face. Even at a distance, Harry could tell his best friend was shaking uncontrollably. He ran his eyes over him again, not only was his skin stained, but his clothes were also tainted red.

"Fleur!" Bill's voice broke Harry of his trance. Getting to his feet, he made his way to the circle. Tonks stood with her hand over her mouth, and Fleur let a tear leak from her eye as she looked at her fiancée. He had taken off his jacket in an attempt to soak the blood from the wound, which Harry suspected was continuing to bleed profusely. He knelt by his friend's head, trying carefully not to step on her hair, not that she would feel it over the pain she was already experiencing. She was white as ash, and for a second, he thought they'd already lost her, but the flicker of her eyelid when she saw him caused a ripple of hope.

Bill shouted the name again, but the same woman just looked down at him miserably. He looked down at Hermione. "It's alright, we're going to fix you. You're alright, it's not that bad-" a squeak in his voice cut him off as he fumbled with the sweater which was soaked beyond use. Without even thinking about it, Harry stripped of his jacket and supplied it in replacement; Bill took it in desperation, tossing aside the old one. For a split second the extensiveness of her injuries were viewable. Several deep, elongated cuts continued to seep through her shirt. They were carefully cut, precise, but placed sporadically across her lower abdomen. It was too clean to be an animal attack, but too messy to be surgical.

A crack came from behind them. He peered over his shoulder to see his potions professor striding towards them. The crowd parted, and with a swift push Bill was out of the way. It was all too familiar for more than one person in that room. This had happened once before in the boys bathroom not too long ago. Snape had said the exact same words from the exact position on the ground, but instead he was directing them at Draco Malfoy; the boy who was standing across from him now.

Sectumsempra.

The bleeding ceased, but the danger was imminent.

"I've done what I can do. Get her to the infirmary, now." Snape demanded, getting up and heading down the staircase. Footsteps came from the corner and Lupin held his head in his hands.

"Remus!" Tonks cried and flung her arms around his neck. He warmly accepted her embrace as he rubbed her back, assuring her he was alright.

Fleur crouched by her husband-to-be and began wiping his blood coated hands with a piece of torn cloth. From what Harry could hear, she was trying to convince him to go to the infirmary as well. Though the wounds to his face were extensive, they were not life threatening, and he didn't want to take attention away from those who needed it. More members of the Order arrived. One took Hermione in his arms and sped off in the proper direction while the others interviewed their co-members. Pushing others out of the way, he crouched down beside Ron, who now had his entire head hidden underneath the arms folded over his neck, and the knees his face was buried in. He placed his hand supportively on his shoulder, but that shoulder ripped itself from his grasp. He looked at him for a second before saying,

"Ron," but the body clambered away.

"Don't." He said sternly, finally lifting his face. He was as pale as Hermione was, but it had nothing to do with blood loss. "Don't touch me!" He demanded. Harry could hear his breaths getting quicker as he looked about the room in a panic. He hand flew to his chest in his attempt to catch his breath, but the color caught him by surprise. His shriek was stifled by a sob as he attempted to wipe the dry crust on his hands away. He stumbled backwards before completely turning and making his way to the railing, where Harry could then see the flow of bile coming from his mouth as he bent over the edge. Wiping his mouth, he slid down the adjacent wall and his behind his arms again. It only took a split second look to know Ron was sobbing again.

McGonagall came up the stairs, accompanied by Professor Sprout and Professor Flitwick. Her arms were held out to stop the others as if there were still a danger lurking at the top of the stairs.

"How did this happen?" She questioned, but no one was paying snouty attention to give an answer. She move forward to the center of the floor, her eyes widened in shock by the puddle she found. "Is that- is that from Miss Granger?" She looked from side to side, looking for anyone who would give her an idea of what had happened in her absence. Her eyes landed on Harry. By the time she'd walked over to him, he'd already stood. "I saw her being carried, they said she'd been injured. Are you alright, Potter?"

"Fine. We're all fine, when it comes to surviving I guess." He answered, wiping his sweaty palms on his pants. When he looked into his professor's eyes, they only asked one question. Though it was a question with an answer he'd lived through, he couldn't speak the words. He knew it all. He knew what happened during the battle, he lived it; yet thinking back on it, there was nothing but the haunting images of Hermione laying limp on the floor drenched in her own blood. The slight twinge of her eye, the way she looked when she fell, and her echoing scream cut like a knife inside him. Now he understood Ron, for he too was starting to feel his heart race. The reality of it all it him, and he suddenly felt as though he couldn't breathe. McGonagall sensed this sudden change, but the weight of her hand on his shoulder only intensified the stress. "I need to sit down."

After excusing himself, he didn't pay much mind to any of the words spoken by the professor while she addressed someone else. All he wanted was to get away from the crowd; he wanted to deal with this alone. Yet, despite his drive and desire to leave, he was halted by a red print on the floor. It was a shoe print, plain and simple, but the ink used gave so much more. His mind told him to move but his body would not comply. His head suddenly felt absent from his body. Queasy, he placed his hand just above his belt. The space and air around him no longer existed.

"Harry, we should get you to the infirmary. It looks as though you've taken a beating." Lupin suggested, approaching him.

"I'm going to pass out." He warned, moving nothing but his lips.

Lupin sighed and grasped his shoulder, then looked down to peer into his eyes. "You're not going to pass out-"

"I'm going to pass out." He repeated. Before he'd finished his sentence, he could already feel himself falling. The last thing he felt was weightlessness as his former teacher caught him mid-fall.

As the werewolf hoisted the boy up so he was leaning against him, a figure caught him by surprise. Ron stood before him with his face red, eyes puffy, and a look of defeat molded on his features. There were many sides to Ron Weasley, but this was not one he'd seen before.

"I can take him to Madam Pomfrey." He offered, sniffling and wiping his nose on his shirt. Lupin eyed him suspiciously.

"Can you handle it?"

"Yeah," He took a deep breath in and straightened his back slightly. "I can."

Working together, they managed to place Harry's arm securely around the much taller boy's shoulders. After taking a few steps however, Ron knew it wasn't going to work. So, after swearing to himself a few times, he picked Harry up and slung his limp friend over his shoulder so he could continue to descend down the staircase.

McGonagall made her way to the last student available. The blond stood with his wand in his hands. He looked into the distance deep in thought, but without the usual expression that accompanied deep thinkers. His nostrils were flared, his mouth pursed and turned down, eyebrows furrowed but his eyes stood wide. He seemed to be looking at the ghost of death. He was afraid.

"I need to do a report on this." She said, breaking him of his fearful thoughts. He turned and looked at her. "Can you tell me the truth about what happened up here?"

His expression lessened, but the imprint of fear was left. "Yes." He answered simply. "But one question. Where's Professor Dumbledore?"

Minerva looked about the room in search of her co-worker and friend, but there was no trace of him. He'd told her that he would be out with Harry for their 'secret teachings', but it never occurred to her that he was present at the time of the attack. She was disappointed in herself for not making the connection. Still, she turned to her student.

"That is a very good question."