Author's Note: Welcome back to chapter 9 already of the fourth book. It's quite long and action-packed, so I hope you guys are ready! :) I'm personally not entirely pleased with how it turned out, but I hope you'll enjoy it anyway. A big thanks to TheMushroomGuild for reviewing the previous chapter; I'm really glad you liked it (and also, yes Draco is a dunce).

On another note, I should probably tell you that we are slowly nearing the end of this story. There's still several more chapters to go, but we're definitely reaching the end of this journey soon. I definitely enjoyed it and want to thank everyone who came along on the journey for increasing that joy. You guys are amazing!

May 2, 1997
Hogsmeade

When Draco arrived at the Hog's Head Inn, the tavern was completely abandoned, and he made his way upstairs without passing another soul. For all of their sakes, he really hoped that the inn had seen more traction earlier in the day, but he didn't get up his hopes too high.

As it was, the only reason he was here himself – at least he told himself – was because the old man had made Draco and his mother promise. On the day that he had provided them shelter, he had asked for one thing in return: that when the battle came, they would be on the Light Side. At the time, they had had no choice but to accept. At the time, Draco admitted he hadn't really given it much thought. He had imagined that when things really came down to a battle, they surely wouldn't expect a sixteen year-old boy to fight. He had imagined that by then maybe they would have left Britain for a nice, comfortable chalet in the French countryside. Truth be told, he had imagined that they could simply slip through the cracks, the same way the Malfoys had always managed to avoid the brunt of it when things got ugly.

He subconsciously touched the bulge in the breast pocket of his robes, comforted by the familiar weight before stepping into the Vanishing Cabinet. As he stepped out the other end in Hogwarts a few seconds later, he had to admit to finding it a much more pleasant travel experience than his limited experience with Apparation so far.

From the moment he left the Room of Requirement behind him, Draco kept his wand out in front of him, ready in the event that any attacker should come upon him. But as he passed hallway after hallway without a single individual in sight, he started to suspect something was up. Sure, there were signs of battle here and there; walls blasted to pieces, trails of blood, a tied up and unconscious Death Eater. But where was the fighting itself? Where were the people? Was he too late?

He passed through a courtyard near the front of the castle, looking around for anyone that may tell him what in Merlin's name was going on. Just then, he spotted a flash of raven hair, and he quickly recognised its messy coupe and the ridiculous round glasses beneath it. 'Potter!'

When the boy in question looked up, there was shock written all over it – and before Draco had time to respond, he had hurled an Expelliarmus in his direction, landing Draco flat on his back. As he sat up, looking for his wand that he spotted just out of reach, he noticed the Boy-Who-Was-A-Tosser had advanced on him, wand drawn. Draco quickly threw up his hands, annoyed, 'Do you really think I would have called out to you first if I wanted to hex you?'

Harry shrugged, lowering his wand as he seemed to realise that for once, they were not on opposite sides. 'What are you doing here then?'

'I came to help,' As he got to his feet, he rolled his eyes, 'Oh spare me whatever pathetic excuse of a witty remark you have ready on your tongue, Potter. The old coot extracted a promise in exchange for shelter, alright?'

The other boy seemed to accept that and stood by somewhat awkwardly as Draco retrieved his wand.

'So where's everybody, anyway? I came through the Vanishing Cabinet but didn't pass anyone on my way here. Is the battle over?'

'For now,' Harry said, looking troubled, 'Voldemort called for a one-hour armistice, and has promised to leave the castle unharmed if… if I… If I give myself up.'

It took a moment for the meaning to register in Draco's mind. Then he scoffed, 'And that's why you are here, I presume? Merlin Potter, I know you are an utter idiot, but even I had thought you smarter than that.'

'What choice do I have?'

'I don't know, but probably there is one that does not, you know, involve getting killed? Besides, what guarantee do you have that he will not still burn down the school in your absence? He wants to rule the wizarding world remember; he's not just going to turn all cute and cuddly because he had the pleasure of finally offing you.'

Harry flinched at that, but looked down, 'Even so, I can't have him murder any more people in my name.'

For once, Draco resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Instead, he reached into his pocket, 'If you are really to die and all, it's probably good I ran into you when I did. I was meant to give you this.' And with that, he placed the object in the boy's hand. 'I received it as a Christmas gift at the Weasleys with an anonymous note – though I immediately suspected who it was from. The note told me to return it "to its rightful owner when the time was right".'

'A Golden Snitch?'

'I figured I was meant to give it to you, given that there really is no one else who I know who would have caught a Snitch and Dumbledore would want to give things to.'

Harry looked down uncertainly at the golden ball for a moment, 'So what am I supposed to do with it?'

'How am I supposed to know?' Draco responded rather annoyedly, 'I thought you were the one who was best friends with the old man.'

'Well I didn't kn… Wait, there's an inscription on the side: "I open at the close".'

'That wasn't there before,' he frowned, leaning in so that he could now also see the clear inscription that was written on one side of the Snitch in neat cursive.

'Are you sure?'

'Quite positively, Potter. I'm fairly certain I would have noticed if it was there after having it in my possession for a good four months.' This time he did roll his eyes, before refocusing on the conundrum at hand, 'So open it and let's see what's inside then.'

Harry tucked away his wand, using both hands to pull and pry and screw – but with no success. 'I can't get it to open. Are you sure there is even something in there?'

Draco ignored him for now, knowing that there was no way he could answer without either insulting Dumbledore or Harry – and possibly both. He tapped his chin with the tip of his wand instead, as he thought out loud, 'Snitches have flesh memory, so the reason why Dumbledore wanted you to have it is likely because there's something in there that he didn't want anyone else to have. The message appeared at your touch, which confirms my suspicion that you are, in effect, its owner. But apparently it's not enough to open it…'

'What are you getting at?'

He snapped his fingers in realisation. 'Didn't you choke on the first Snitch you ever caught?'

'Yes, although I hardly think now is the time to…-'

'That means your first touch was not your hand but rather…'

'My mouth,' Harry now also realised, looking in new-found wonder at the Snitch in his hand. Draco had to fight the urge the scoff – the Snitch from the first match Potter had ever played, how utterly fitting a gift from the sentimental old man. He just wished that he had been left out the equation. Merlin, where was the bushy-haired know-it-all when you needed her?

Agonizingly slow, Harry brought the Golden Snitch to his lips. There he paused for a moment, breathing deeply as he whispered something to himself too low for Draco to hear. Then he closed the final gap – and at the exact moment that skin met metal, a soft click could be heard as the panels slid back. Both boys watched in wonder as a small, dark and smooth stone was revealed. They both stared at it for a moment, each clearly aware of what it was, before Harry closed the Snitch again and put it in his pocket.

Swallowing, he gazed in the direction of the exit he had been making for – and with it, the Forbidden Forest, Draco realised. 'I should go.'

Draco nodded, unsure what to say now that the boy he had tormented for the last few years was ready to face death. It probably was not appropriate to pester him now that he was to die and all, but they weren't quite on the basis of anything else. And so he kicked against a small piece of rubble, offering an awkward shrug of his shoulders. 'Yeah, I should be going too. See if I can help out with the wounded or something.'

As both boys turned, Draco was about to walk away when his conscience – sounding suspiciously female and nagging and all too familiar – made him turn back around. 'Hey Potter!' He called after Harry, who was already a few steps away but now turned around in surprise. 'Good luck.'

May 2, 1997
Somewhere in Scotland

With the help of the portraits, Sophie quickly found her way to the Grant Staircase. From there, it was a simple matter of getting to the ground floor as fast as possible – or rather it would have been simple, if the stairs would have brought her to the correct floors immediately. Instead it took a good ten minutes, and quite a bit of cursing, to get to the ground floor, and then Sophie jumped off the last steps sprinting.

Throughout her journey through the higher floors of the castle, she had yet to come across a living or deceased soul, the entire castle seemingly filled with a deathly calm. This only confirmed her suspicion that Voldemort had called for an armistice, and that Harry was already either off to the Forest or on the run. For all of their sakes, she could only hope it was the former.

There were more signs of battle now. Walls that were blackened, debris from caved in ceilings or broken statues. Further up ahead, she could hear the sound of voices, and she made her way towards it. The hallway she had been coming down opened up into a larger hall and a little further down she noticed two grand doors that opened up into an enormous dining room, with a ceiling that seemed to be made of the grey and stormy heavens that she had glimpsed through some of the windows. Outside, she recognised the head of a bushy-haired witch, who was talking with a short, somewhat chubby boy with dark blond hair and large front teeth. Even without seeing the Gryffindor emblem on his chest when they both turned at her calling Hermione's name, she knew who he was.

At seeing her, Hermione's eyebrows rose near comically, and her eyes bulged. 'Sophie? What… How… Why are you here? And what happened with your hair?'

'My hair?' She pulled a strand to her face, noticing in surprise that it was a pale blonde. Must have been Narcissa's work… She shrugged, 'Never mind that. Where are Harry and Ron?'

'Ron's in there,' Hermione gestured into the hall that was now serving as a makeshift hospital. Sophie found her stomach turning at remembering all the deaths that would be registered today. Fred, Lupin, Tonks… 'Harry's well… I'm sure you've heard about Voldemort calling for him to come out?' She looked down at her feet, 'He went up to Dumbledore's office to think. When he came back… well, he wouldn't listen to us of course; he slipped away when I went to check on Ron.'

'When was this?'

Hermione thought for a moment. 'About fifteen minutes ago.'

'Fifteen minutes?' Sophie cursed under her breath. In fifteen minutes, he might have already made it to Voldemort. He might already be dead.

At the same time, she found herself wondering if it mattered. If he had already gone out to face Voldemort, did that not mean her job was done? The lamb had gone out to slaughter. It was over. Done. Yet, why did she feel like there was something still that she needed to do? 'I should probably go… Wait, why are you guys here? I thought with the grownups arriving, the students wouldn't have to fight.'

'They didn't,' Hermione explained, 'Seventh-years were given the option to fight.'

Sophie was about to nod, when the math hit her, 'But you are sixth-years.'

'We didn't have to,' Neville shrugged, 'But I would have been ashamed if my grandmother would be out here fighting while I am hiding in the common room.'

'There was of course no stopping Harry,' Hermione added, 'And we couldn't well let him go alone. But that doesn't explain why you are here. How are you even…-'

'I have no time to explain now, but stay safe, okay? Oh and if you see a giant snake,' here she pressed the Sorting Hat into Neville's hands with urgency, 'kill it.'

With those parting words, she turned on her heel, rushing down a large staircase towards the open front doors that she spotted in the distance.

-xxx-

Outside of the castle, the aftereffects of battle were more visible. Although the wounded – she didn't want to think of the dead – of the Light Side had likely all been brought outside, here and there were the unconscious or dead bodies of Death Eaters, some tied up and gagged, others sprawled across the stone courtyard in front of the castle. In passing, and trying not to think too much about it, Sophie picked up one of the wands that lay discarded near one of them, slipping it into the pocket of her robe just in case. She may not be able to use it, but she could pretend.

The moment she stepped away from the castle and onto the stretch of land between it and the Forest, she felt like she was in no-man's land. Crossing that relatively short stretch of land felt like an eternity – and all the while she felt that any second now she would be hit with a spell. Nothing happened though, and she slipped into the cover of the forest without issue only a short while later. From there, it might have been difficult to track Voldemort's party, were it not that at exactly that moment, a green light filled the forest. Sophie started running.

She halted just outside of the clearing in which Voldemort and his inner circle were gathered, hiding behind a broad tree behind the half circle of Death Eaters. Between their gathered bodies, she saw Voldemort, getting back to his feet, and a little further off, the lifeless body of Harry Potter. No, she reminded herself, not lifeless; motionless. Any moment now, he would be declared dead, and the procession would return to Hogwarts with the fallen hero.

She stood waiting, and waiting, and then Bellatrix moved forward – and suddenly Sophie was hit with the one detail that she had missed. There was no Narcissa Malfoy. There was no one to lie for Harry. And when Bellatrix would examine his body, she would find Harry very much alive.

Not allowing herself a moment to second-guess, she stepped out from behind the tree, forcing her head up and shoulders back as she strolled into the clearing with much more confidence than she felt. But no, she could do this. Hadn't she spent her entire childhood pretending to be someone else? Hadn't she entered this very life doing exactly that? Pretending to be an eight year-old? And more importantly, had she not succeeded? Sure, everyone had thought her a weird eight year-old, but no one had questioned the lie. Now was the time to step into the limelight once more – and shine.

At seeing her, Bellatrix stopped in her tracks, some of the other Death Eaters whipped out their wands, but as of yet no one had attacked her. She chanced a brief glance at Harry's body, all the while hoping Bellatrix wouldn't recognise her, before she stepped in the direction of Voldemort. And bowed deeply – partly as part of the show, partly to hide the pure dread that she felt in his presence and that seemed to chill the very blood in her veins.

'My Lord, I have come to let you know that the Slytherin students are ready to follow you in your victory. We had been locked into our common room during the fight; we want you to know that we do not endorse the defence of the castle by those who oppose you.'

A short silence followed her words, and she feared the worst. That someone recognised her. That they didn't believe her. That they saw through the ruse.

'What is your name?'

Even before she straightened up to meet his gaze briefly, she knew that cold, unnatural voice could belong to no one other than Voldemort himself. 'Alice Kingsleigh.' The name passed her lips smoothly, as if she had spoken it a thousand times before. She hadn't once considered using her own name – even her mother's lineage, with her grandparents' murder and her mother's exit from the wizarding world, wasn't untarnished. The name of her favourite childhood fantasy book character, however, was a spur of the moment.

He regarded her for a moment, his snake-like gaze so piercing that she figured he would look straight through her. But of course he didn't – or he would have long called her out. 'I'm not familiar with a British wizarding family by that name.'

Sophie's heart raced, her mind rushing in overdrive. But she kept her breathing even, even as she saw Nagini slither near her feet. Alice's father could believe in six impossible things before breakfast. Surely she could make a couple of wizards believe six impossible things before dinner.

One, she was a Slytherin. Two, her name was Alice Kingsleigh. Three, 'I'm not surprised. My father, Charles Kingsleigh, has taking over the family trading business that takes him all across the globe. I spent most of my childhood in far-off places.'

Another long pause, then he turned towards Harry's still body, and she found herself following his gaze. 'Do you know who that is?'

'Yes, my Lord, that is Harry Potter.'

'Was he… a friend of yours?'

She scoffed, channelling as much of Draco as she could as she prepared her fourth impossible thing. 'Hardly. We shared some classes, but I always made sure to stay as far away from him and him muggle-loving and mudblood friends as possible.'

Voldemort nodded in agreement, 'Well then, Alice Kingsleigh, we will gladly accept such outstanding youth such as yourself and your housemates into our ranks. Your first task is a simple one.' She knew what was coming, and although it was exactly the reason that she had first entered the clearing, she now dreaded it. 'Confirm that Harry Potter is dead.'

She nodded, only a little hesitantly, before slowly starting in the direction of Harry. All at once, and in equal measures, she was glad to be further away from Voldemort and dreaded being closer to lying to him. Before she reached Harry's body, however, she passed Bellatrix Lestrange, who grabbed her arm, and searched her face with her beady, cold eyes.

'You seem familiar.'

This time her heart did race, as she tried to hold the gaze of the crazed witch. Her throat went dry and her voice sounded a little pitchy even to her own ears, when she responded with her fifth impossible thing. 'You might remember my father; he attended Hogwarts for several years before my grandfather took him traveling. I'm told I take after him a lot.'

A long, seemingly never-ending moment passed, then Bellatrix flashed a black-toothed, not quite friendly smile, 'Perhaps…'

Sophie fought the urge to rub her arm after the other woman released her, a flex of her fingers the only visible reaction to the encounter. Then she continued on, taking the last few steps towards Harry before crouching down. She reached out one hand towards his closest, placing two fingers against his pulse point and feeling the tell-tale answer of a steady beat. She let go, dropping the limp hand to the forest floor, and stood. 'He's dead.' Six.

Author's Note: Minor note, the only reason why Voldemort doesn't see through the ruse is that he's too arrogant to consider that a young girl (or anyone for that matter) would dare to stand up to him and lie to his face. If he had chosen to read her mind, he would obviously have been able to see through the lie. Oh how the mighty will fall ;).