A/N: College begins for me in just a few weeks. I still can't really wrap my head around it.

Anti-Litigation Charm: I do not own.

Please review!

The underground passage was dimly lit and quite cramped. It was spread out unevenly, to the point where a good quarter of the Gryffindors were squeezed into the narrowest portion of the tunnel with the majority of the Hufflepuffs, while the Ravenclaws enjoyed the large and cavernous portion that came before it. The Slytherins, closest to the end of the passage, were pressed uncomfortably tight against the bottlenecked Gryffindors. Selenius, who had been one of the first to climb in, was squashed against the wall next to Draco, who had entered behind the other Slytherins dead last.

All around them, people were whispering quietly, their voices echoing in hushed tones around the passage. The ghosts floated through, surveying them and occasionally reporting back to the Prefects distributed throughout the tunnel. The Head Boy and Head Girl had tried to make rounds themselves, but after stepping on several people and dealing with loud complaints by people they had squeezed through, they gave up and let the ghosts do it for them.

It was difficult to keep track of time down here. Those who had a watch had people huddled around them, watching the minutes tick by in mental agony. Selenius guessed that they had been there for no more than half an hour before one first-year in a red-and-gold tie spoke up:

"Are we going to die?" he whispered.

"Don't be ridiculous," a sixth-year Slytherin snapped. "The teachers would never let that happen to us."

"But what if they die, too?"

"If they die, I'm going to be very irritated," another Slytherin drawled. "I never did get my Defense final back."

"When did you suddenly switch to Ravenclaw?" his friend quipped wearily.

"Since I had to study for that bloody final."

"Quiet, please!" one of the Prefects called.

The conversation died. They sat around, waiting for the Prefect to turn her attention elsewhere, and then the Slytherin continued, "Granger's test was a killer, I tell you."

"I don't know why you thought it'd be easy," Malfoy interjected.

"I never said it would be easy—"

"Hey, Draco," Pansy Parkinson said, leaning into view. "What did Professor Granger want with you?"

Selenius could tell that Draco wanted nothing more than to shrink back. He certainly didn't want to confess the reason—it would open up so many other questions, after all. Such as why Draco had been given private lessons by Hermione Granger. And if the others knew that he could remove the ward blocking the way to Honeydukes, they might be tempted to force him to remove it prematurely.

"She's put him in charge," Selenius spoke up, cobbling together a half-truth of sorts. "If the ward breaks, he knows the way out, and we're supposed to follow him."

"How did you know about this place?"

"My father, of course," Draco lied. He cast Selenius a silent look that said thank you. "Honeydukes is at the end, I could sneak in whenever I wanted."

Of course, until now, he had never knew such a passage existed.

There were a few snorts and some incoherent mumbling, much of it along the lines of "you could have invited us", but they fell silent. The moments slowed to a crawl. And then there was a loud squeal and a bang that reverberated through the entire school, echoing all the way down to the passage; it was muted but unmistakable.

"What was that?" Dean demanded, gripping the wall for support as a second squeal-plus-bang echoed through the tunnel. "It sounds like someone set off a rocket!"

"They're fireworks," Selenius said, recognizing the sound immediately. "Weasley fireworks!"

"Does that mean we can come out now?" a second-year Gryffindor asked hopefully. "Are they celebrating?"

There was a unanimous, slightly frustrated cry of "No!" as the sound of different fireworks could be heard in the very far distance. The entire tunnel went silent as they strained to hear and make sense of what was happening above grounds, but they couldn't make out anything more than the sound of various sparklers. There was a suddenly yelp from the narrow portion of the tunnel, and Selenius stood up as Harry pushed his way through.

"Malfoy!" he bellowed. "Where's Malfoy?"

"What do you want, Potter?" Draco snapped, scrambling to his feet.

"You know how to get through the wards." Harry tripped over a kneeling student, and almost fell flat on his face. He scrambled for his glasses, which had fallen off, and quickly put them back on. "Hermione's blocked up the entrance to the tunnel. You need to open it!"

There was a loud clamor of confusion and demands from the nearby students, but Selenius's high-pitched cry of, "Shut up!" followed by an angry Prefect's order called them to silence.

"Why would I do that?" Draco demanded.

"Because they're fighting up there," Harry said angrily, "and I'm going to help."

Draco sneered at him. "Well will you look at that? Saint Potter's going to fly to the rescue."

Harry whipped out his wand, and pointed it between Draco's eyes. His face was dead-set. In the dim wandlight, the scar on his forehead was thrown into relief. "I don't have time for this. I need you to unblock it—now!"

"You think you can do something the Professors can't?" Draco challenged. "What brilliant, hitertho-unknown piece of magic are you going to pull out of your arse this time, Potter?"

"My best friend's up there," Harry said quietly. At that moment, Ron had also shoved his way through, and was standing at Harry's side. His expression was equally set. "I have to help her."

"Not happening," Draco snarled.

Selenius could tell a fight was about to break out. Harry already had his wand. Draco's fingers were itching toward the pocket of his robes.

"Stop it, both of you!" he said, pushing himself between them, arms outstretched. "Mum said to stay down here and keep quiet unless the teachers send a Patronus." He jabbed a finger at Harry, not recognizing the looks of shock that were registering on the surrounding students' faces. "She told you to stay put! Running around up there is just going to get in the teachers' way!"

Harry gaped at him. Selenius turned around, and saw that Draco's jaw had also dropped. He turned to look at Ron, whose face was drained of all color.

"Tell him, Ron," Selenius entreated, his expression uncertain. "We're not supposed to…"

He trailed off, and glanced around.

"What?" he snarled.

Blaise Zabini's form hovered into view just behind Selenius, his expression contorted with something between disgust and surprise.

"Mum," he said, loud enough for all to hear. It was the first time he had ever addressed Selenius directly. "You called her mum."

Selenius's jaw opened, but made no sound; it clicked shut, and for the first time, Harry saw it: absolute, abject fear. It was as though all the color had been drained out of his already pale skin. All around him, his fellow students were gazing at him as though he had suddenly grown a second head. Whispers echoed through the tunnel, and by the time Selenius managed to pull his wits together, it had already reached the Ravenclaws at the other end of the passage.

"I never said I was anything other than a half-blood," he said, swallowing audibly. Harry took a step forward, as though to place himself between Selenius and the towering Slytherin. He heard Neville pushing his way through, and the taller boy stepped up a moment later, his face set. "I just never said who my parents were. But yes," he said, his eyes flashing with challenge as he finally prepared himself to own up to it. There was no recanting now. His hand was already in his pocket, fingering his wand. "She's my mum. What of it?"

"She's married. To Professor Snape," Zabini said, still sounding more shocked than anything else. His dark eyes were fixed on Selenius. "So what's this nonsense about being a Black?"

Selenius said, very quietly, "If you spent preening and more time thinking, you'd have figured it out by now."

"Blaise," Tracy pleaded, pressed against the wall, watching the older boy bristle. "Not now."

"He's—"

"Don't," she urged, casting Nott a frightened glance. The boy had his eyes cast to the ground. The other Slytherins were watching in apparently morbid fascination, but none of them added their own opinion. Even Parkinson was silent, though she was wearing an expression of revulsion on her face. "This isn't the time or place."

"In case it hasn't occurred to you, Zabini," Draco drawled, appearing rather unruffled despite the situation, "until recently, no one knew Professor Snape had a wife. Or that Professor Granger was Potter's Mudblood friend. Or that either of them had an heir. What name was he going to attend under without giving it away?"

Zabini glared at them both, his lips twisting into a sneer, but he turned away. "Blood-traitor," he said, without glancing back.

"Anyone who follows the Dark Lord is the real blood-traitor," Selenius retorted to his retreating back. His hands shook with anger as he added, "Actually, anyone who follows the Pureblood creed is a blood-traitor."

There was a ripple of murmurs through the tunnel at this, many surprised, some shocked, and most of the confused, as his statement was echoed. And, in the Slytherins' end of the tunnel, mostly angry.

Zabini stopped walking, and Selenius had the sense that if he could see his face, they would see a tick twitching in it: he had never seen this particular Slytherin lose his cool, but his relaxed and aloof demeanor had finally cracked. For the most part, Zabini had ignored Selenius, and had rather made a point of it. Now, though, the second-year had finally gotten under his skin.

"What did you say?"

Selenius continued, his voice steady despite his anger. He finally had the most aloof and dismissive Slytherin listening to him—certainly not with an open mind, but at least with open ears. "A Blood-traitor is someone who gives up or compromises their magical heritage. In Hogwarts, A History, Salazar Slytherin's quoted as having said that it's a denial of our magical inheritance, our gift. That's why he thought mingling with Muggles was wrong. But rejecting and killing people who have that gift because their magical pedigree isn't as long as yours is also wrong."

"Slytherin didn't want Mudbloods here either," Parkinson interjected, her pug-nosed face drawn up in disgusted sneer.

"Yes, because they were persecuted by Muggles," Selenius snapped. "He thought they were a risk to the magical community. But Muggle-borns, in case you haven't noticed, aren't Muggles!"

"Don't pretend to know what our Founder thought!"

"Typical Gryffind—"

"I know that Slytherin cared about Hogwarts!" Selenius was very close, but not quite, yelling. If he had not had everybody's attention before, he had it now. "I know he cared about his students, and I know he wanted them to be able to live without fear of persecution by Muggles! But since he couldn't have that, because Muggles were bloody stupid back then, Slytherin thought Muggle-borns would be the weak link that would get them all exposed. That doesn't mean he didn't acknowledge that they had the gift!"

Behind him, he heard one student mutter, "Muggles aren't bloody stupid now?"

Zabini was staring at him with an expression of undisguised disgust on his delicate features, perhaps even a taint of revulsion. Many of the other Slytherins, many who were pressed up against the Gryffindors in trying to get a good view of the confrontation, were frowning at him as though they had never seen him before. Selenius was well-known in Slytherin, even if he wasn't precisely well-liked, but it seemed they were rapidly re-evaluating their perception of him. And not in a positive light.

And then Nott said, without looking up from the floor, "Zabini, Professor Granger's a Mudblood. We all know this." He looked incredibly uncomfortable, and Selenius knew it was painful for him to speak up: it went against everything he had been taught. "But even you have to admit she's a skilled witch."

Zabini and several other Slytherins scowled at him; Selenius suspected this was meant to be a private acknowledgement none of them were supposed to admit out loud. But they were all trapped down here, an audience to this confrontation, and there was no way to avoid it. They would have to hear him out.

Selenius folded his arms across his chest. "My dad's a half-blood in the traditional sense," he said, and in the event they needed reminding, added, "and he's the Head of Slytherin." Awkwardly, he tried to clarify, "I picked up a lot from him. He told me that Slytherin was right about magical blood being important. And that—that given the era Slytherin grew up in, his stance made a lot of sense." He looked painfully uncomfortable now, revealing such private details of his father, but plowed on, knowing it needed to be said. "But things are different now. Muggles are either unaware we even exist, or they accept or ignore us if they know. Rejecting Muggle-borns and pursuing a campaign against them because their families aren't a part of our world is just bloody stupid now."

The silence that followed was not in reflection of his words, but a hushed response to the sound of crashing echoing from up above and beyond. They were not directly under the castle at this point, but the grounds, in a tunnel that veered off in the direction of Hogsmeade. From the surface, the muffle of battle could be heard by the occupants of the tunnel below.

And then the tunnel itself shook, and shrieks could be heard as the students grabbed onto whatever they could—the walls, the floor, each other—as bits of stone debris came crumbling down. They covered their heads, and several had the sharpness of mind to cast protective charms on themselves and their friends.

"The tunnel's going to come down!" Ron shouted, trying to be heard over the roar of noise.

Selenius was crouched on the ground, covering his head with his arms. "Draco, take down the ward!" he pleaded. "It's not going to hold!"

Ducking his head, and wincing as a sharp rock bounced off his head, Malfoy scooted over to the barrier and placed his hands on it. It glowed gold the moment he did so, signaling its presence, and he pressed his wand to it, muttering quickly. The ward dissolved in a sheen of light, and those closest to the barrier wasted no time in hurling past. Malfoy quickly pressed himself against the wall to avoid being trampled, and pointed his wand at the ceiling. He was tempted to follow his Housemates, to be one of the first to get out of the collapsing tunnel, but at the rate that the debris was coming down—small chunks of stone the size of their fists, though more was sure to come—it wouldn't hold long enough for everyone else to get through.

"Wingardium Leviosa!"

It was such a basic spell, but it did as he hoped: the load-bearing arch twenty-feet away began pressing up against the collapsing cave, halting its destruction. Selenius pressed against the wall with him a moment later, avoiding the Gryffindors now pushing their way through, and shouted, "Reparo!"

The wall began steadily reassembling itself. A moment later, Harry pressed himself against the wall as well, turning to face Draco.

"I need you to remove the ward at the entrance," he panted.

"Are you crazy?"

"I—"

"That was a rhetorical question, Potter! You are crazy!"

"I have to do this!" Harry said, his voice rising to be overheard; the cave was awash with the roar of crumbling walls and frightened children. "Please, Malfoy, let me through!"

"Why?" Selenius demanded, leaning over to look at him.

"Because my wand shares the same core as Voldemort's," Harry said, leaning over as well so that he could look Selenius in the eye. "It activates Priori Incantatem every time we're forced to duel."

"What does that have to do with anything?" Draco demanded, at the same time Selenius asked, "What's that?"

"It means I have an idea on how to kill him."

"Fine," Selenius snapped, glancing over at the mouth of the narrow part of the tunnel. "Draco, let him through."

"I'm not going back there! In case you haven't noticed, the wall's about the collapse!"

Selenius gestured upwards. "The tunnel's not collapsing any faster, and the part near the schools' the least threatened by what's happening here. Worst case scenario, we're trapped on the school's side of the tunnel."

"If we die doing this, I'm going to make your afterlife a living hell." The last student had passed, and he pushed himself away from the wall. "Let's do this quickly."

Harry shot Selenius a grateful look, and they hurried through the part of the tunnel leading back to Hogwarts.

~o~O~o~

The Giants had made it onto the ground, but that was as far as they went; Hermione, in an uncharacteristic show of viciousness, had killed them on the spot with a painful combination of Strangling Spells and the use of the Imperius to cause them to turn on one another. They were resistant to magic, to the point where Hermione's powerful spells were almost ineffectual, but not immune. They fell to the ground with earth-shaking thuds as though they had been merely tripped, leaving long trenches in the wake of their enormous bodies. The Acromantulas climbed over the fallen, finishing with venom and terrifying mandibles what Hermione's spells had not, and then moving on to overwhelm the ones still standing. It was a gruesome sight, but Hermione refused to let them reach the infrastructure of the school itself.

Hermione found no pleasure in the irony that the spiders were, on Hagrid's orders, massacring the Giants who came from the same tribe the half-giant himself was descended from. But Hagrid's determination to protect the school was just as strong as the other professors', and he did what had to be done with alacrity. Many of them were turning to flee at this point: between an army of giant spiders and Death Eaters, they would rather take their chances with the Death Eaters, who were having their own difficulties and were not precisely in a position to stop them. One of them was caught by the much-aggravated Whomping Willow as he tried to run.

Hermione surveyed the castle grounds, her lips set into a thin, grim line. The giants had not made it past, and she had been well-protected from backlash by casting spells from the ramparts on the North Tower. But the Death Eaters had made it inside, and now that the larger threat was taken care of, she was needed at the front lines. Only the teachers were here; the Order was undoubtedly still occupied at the Ministry, which was still under heavy assault. Hogwarts was alone.

She was altogether not very shocked, though she was certainly utterly dismayed, when she reached the front steps and discovered that the Chief Death Eater had arrived: he was standing just beyond the swamped-out Entrance Hall, and for a moment, Hermione thought she was in a dream. The scene was utter chaos, Voldemort's remaining eleven, most loyal followers each battling a single teacher, but with Voldemort himself calmly strolling through the wreckage. Broken suits of armor were scattered throughout the hall and on the stairs, as though they had been blasted apart. Some were half-sunken into the swamp, and were visibly corroding. A moment later, he lifted up off the ground, and without so much as a broom to help him, floated over the noxious swamp, his robes just barely lifting free of the sickly green surface.

His feet touched the stone floor on the other side with a gentle sort of grace. There was a shriek as Hagrid swung at one of the Death Eaters with his pink umbrella, knocking the man over, and then lifted him up and threw him into the swamp. Screams echoed through the hall as the man struggled to pull himself out, but was waterlogged by his own robes, and blind with agony: his skin was melting off his bones like liver-flavored ice cream on a hot day. Voldemort took seemingly no notice of the man's excruciating death-throes.

And then the moment broke, like a piece of rubber stretched too far, snapping them back to reality.

Hermione raised her wand, and pointed it at the Dark Lord. It was a wordless command that escaped her, a silent Killing Curse that erupted in a flash of green from her wand, filled with every fiber of hatred she possessed; and it was a quick Dark Lord that hastily stepped aside.

"You cannot hope to keep Hogwarts from me forever," he said, his red eyes locking onto Hermione as she advanced on him. "The Ministry has fallen, girl. Dumbledore is dead. There is no Order to help you." He deflected her spell, and retaliated with a lazy upward flick of his wand. "Twelve teachers cannot hope to defeat me."

Hermione's breath caught, and then she bared her teeth. There would be time to mourn later. Time to wonder about the Headmaster. Time to learn if what Voldemort was saying was really true. But now wasn't that time...

From above, crystal balls suddenly began crashing to the floor, bouncing off of the Dark Lord's shield. Both Hermione and the Dark Lord looked up in time to see Trelawney perched upon one of the stairs, chucking crystal balls left and right. The Death Eater Sprout was still attempting to gain the upperhand on suddenly staggered sideways as he was struck in the head with one of the flying projectiles, and he stumbled backwards into the swamp without any help from his opponent whatsoever. There was a horrible squelching sound as the swamp latched onto him, and the Death Eater let out a cry of agony, struggling to pull himself free.

"That's thirteen teachers!" Trelawney cried. "A most unlucky number—for you!"

Seeing an opportunity, Hermione lunged; Voldemort parried. Sprout joined her a moment later, ducking and dodging the Dark Lord's attacks while trying to get in some of their own. Hagrid charged through to help take out the other Death Eaters, and Hermione saw him lift up an enormous chunk of debris. He hefted it over his head, and then with an almighty cry, hurled it into the swamp.

There were cries of surprise on both sides, but the teachers were able to back away quickly enough to avoid the backsplash: several of the Death Eaters were not. And then Severus was at Hermione's side, his face set in a terrifying rictus of a snarl, as he tilted the duel in their favor. The Dark Lord gathered up the swampwater that stained the stone floor, swirling it around himself like a protective, eerie cocoon, and then it morphed into a jet that gushed toward them. They deflected it by wresting control of it from him and transfiguring it into a wall of knives, which snapped forward to stab him. They were caught in a deadly dance of coordination, where a single slip would be fatal. There were no second chances with the deadly spells being employed by the The Dark Lord, and he deflected their spells with ease. Hermione scarcely had what it took to cast the Killing Curse the first time, and she not only didn't have what it took to muster it up a second time, but she feared hitting someone else—namely, her husband. There would be no further Unforgivables from them here. A thrust of the Dark Lord's wand caused the staircase behind them to explode. They were thrown to the side, all of them, and Hermione struggled to regain her feet as the Dark Lord turned his wand on her.

His red eyes flashed with cruel certainty.

"Avada Kedav—"

He was interrupted by a familiar, unexpected cry of, "Expelliarmus!"

Light exploded before Hermione's eyes, two dizzying shades of red and green. Where the spells joined, sparks flew, blinding Hermione with their intensity. But they were stuck: neither Harry nor Voldemort could cast while trapped in this battle of magical will. She was already a bit out of it from the initial blast, but as she got uncertainly to her feet, she saw Severus standing at Harry's side, wand pointed at the Dark Lord. His face contorted as he gazed upon his former master, not with fear, but the smug realization of victory.

Hermione saw the lips form on his mouth. She saw the widening of the Dark Lord's eyes as he realized what was to come next.

"Petrificus totalus!"

The light binding Harry and Voldemort's wands broke; Voldemort stood there for a single moment, frozen in place. And then he slowly began to tilt backwards, at first by degrees, and then with speed, falling backwards into the remnants of the swamp. Hermione watched, wearing a stupefied expression of shock, as he sank without protest into the acid. There were no screams. No movement, no struggle. There was a moment as his remaining Death Eaters realized what happened, and then they scrambled to escape. The Professors they had been battling would have none of that, and used the opportunity to fell them while their backs were turned.

And then they joined Harry, Severus, and Sprout, watching as the Dark Lord sank deeper into the corrosive swamp, like a grotesque statue being melted down in a boiling cauldron. Hermione joined them a moment later, and registered the identical expressions on their faces: relief mixed with utter horror. The snake-like face disappeared from view, and the surface bubbled and frothed. They watched, none of them moving a muscle, each fearing that somehow, the monster would still climb out.

And then the bubbling stopped.

Then Harry got to his knees, bent over the cobblestone floor, and retched.

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-Anubis Ankh