DISCLAIMER: I do not own the characters of the honourable J.K Rowling

The Truth

OPERATION CLASSROOM

Everything seemed completely normal back in the Great Hall. It was odd to go from heart stopping danger to the peaceful murmurings of a hall full of children. Quickly I made a small speech, explaining little but impressing upon them the need to remain quiet. I had hoped to get something out of Peter Blanc and Kelly Gardener but Peter was still unconscious and Kelly didn't seem to remember what had happened at all. I suppose they must have been taken totally by surprise. I wondered morbidly why the deatheaters had not just killed them to be done with it. Mercy is not a trait commonly associated with any of the Dark Lord's minions. I knew there was something off about the whole thing but I couldn't do anything about it so I turned my mind to other matters.

The prefects were told to remain alert, and Potter and I, not quite sure what to do now, began to self-consciously patrol between the resting forms on the floor.

"We have to do something," said Potter half an hour later when there was still no sign of a teacher,

"Like what?"

"I don't know – oh, wait, I've just had an idea only you have to promise not to tell anyone!" Potter's face was suddenly alive with excitement.

"What?"

"Wait a second," with that he strode swiftly over to where Sirius Black (previously unnoticed by me) sat with his back to the wall, looking watchfully around the room. Lit up by the glow of the lantern above him, his face looked creepy, for his pitch-black eyes glared unblinkingly from a stark, angular face bereft of its usual handsome grin. Perfect for a vampire, I thought. Potter knelt beside his friend and had a hurried conversation. Within five minutes he was back beside me. He gave me a long, calculating look,

"Can I trust you?"

"What?" (my standard response)

"I have something that may be able to help us but you can't tell anyone about it," he said, looking at the floor.

"Is it illegal?" I asked suspiciously,

"No, at least I don't think so…"

"Does it endanger anyone?"

"No, no,"

"Exactly how much help would it be?" he looked suddenly irritated at my questioning,

"Quite considerable, I should think,"

"Alright, go on," I said, knowing that I was on the brink of irrational and paralysing fear.

"It's a map," he said, holding up a piece of parchment. I raised his eyebrows. A map. How useful. Now would we all know where we were. Nonetheless, I took it from him and had a closer look. It was map, in minute detail, of the entire castle and its surrounds. And that was not all it was. It took me a minute to register, but written in miniscule handwriting (that only became readable once you took a good look at it) was name of every person on the premises – attached to a small dot showing their exact position. Even as I thought about it, my own dot seemed to come into focus among the mass of other student-dots in the great hall – and Potter's dot next to me. It was truly a marvel. I had never seen anything like it before. This was how the famous Marauders had managed to get away with so much over the years. I stared at him, speechless,

"I – we – made it."

"What?"

"We made it. There's no time to explain. Now…Uh oh-" I looked down at he map, following his gaze. He was staring a huddle of dots all compacted into a classroom in the Eastern Tower. They all belonged to teachers.

"There's Dumbledore," I breathed, "Where are the deatheaters?" I suddenly realised that their were no foreign dots on the parchment.

"It's not faulty is it?" I asked, referring to the map.

"Of course it isn't," said Potter defensively, "It has never failed, although I suppose the deatheaters could have some kind of cloaking spell that it can't pick up.

"So what help is it then?" I said exasperatedly,

"Well it's better than nothing," he responded coldly.

"Hmm. So what are we going to do now?"

"Looks like the entire faculty are trapped in that room," said Potter gloomily, "I just can't think what the enemy is waiting for. Why not attack now while the ministry is still off the scene?"

"Oh yeah, I thought Dumbledore sent a message to them-"

"Probably got intercepted-"

"Damn-"

"So there's only one thing for it," said Potter, drawing himself up to his full height, "The fate of the school and everyone in it now rests solely in our hands," he proclaimed dramatically. I sighed. I didn't know how much longer I was going to be able to take this. What was one supposed to do in this situation? Sit tight and hope to goodness the teachers were in control, or send out a daring search party and risk the lives of friends and innocent students? Not much of a choice really. Suddenly I wished I had never become head girl. But then, the reasonable part of my mind said sternly, what would be happening now? Even I had to admit that things would probably be quite different if Lina Matherson were in charge. Probably everyone would be rushing out of the school in a mad panic, only to be eaten by a rampant were-wolf…I suppressed a shudder. Were-wolf…Remus Lupin was a were-wolf, were-wolves killed people and ruined lives…were-wolves were dark beasts…

"Evans?" Potter waved a hand in front of my face, "We have to organise a rescue party." Well at least someone had no trouble making up their mind.

"But the teachers said-"

"There may not be any teachers left to reprimand us if we don't," he pointed out in his most reasonable voice. I shuddered.

"Ok then…who?"

"Well, I think Sirius and me, maybe Toby, we can't have too many or we'll lose the element of surprise…"

"What about me?" I asked, glaring at him. Surely he didn't want to leave me out? He looked at the floor, scratching the back of his neck shiftily. He looked up. He was still looking very pale and his eyes were slightly bloodshot,

"I think perhaps you should stay here…make sure no one does anything stupid, you know-" I felt a stab of anger. He didn't think I was up for it. That much was obvious…he thought to leave the women behind while the men went bravely out to meet the enemy, the arrogant bastard…

"I think perhaps I shouldn't," I said coldly, "The prefects are perfectly capable of keeping them calm. I don't see why you want to take Toby, he's that timid (admittedly that was a bit harsh), and after all, I am Head girl." I was fully aware that I sounded like a whining child, but something about Potter's immediate (and probably quite sensible) decision to leave me behind that really got to me.

To my surprise, he didn't argue. Maybe he saw sense in my words (highly doubtful), or maybe he just couldn't be bothered, but he nodded resignedly and said,

"Well, alright, but Sirius is still coming-"

"Do you think it's wise to bring someone who – I mean – someone-"

"Someone who what?" growled Potter, "Would you rather bring Celine? Or sweet little Tory?" I suppose he had a point. I scowled and acquiesced, knowing that we were wasting time. 

In what seemed like no time at all, we had given strict instructions to the prefects, collected Sirius Black and were back in the entrance hall. Solemnly, we all took how wands out and Potter drew out the map.

"Ok, he said, "We shall need my invisibility cloak." Sirius turned to look at him, his eyes burning with, to my surprise, raw excitement.

"I'll go get it," he whispered quickly, "No sense in us all going if their hiding in the Gryffindor Tower." I gaped at him. Things were rapidly getting out of control,

"Sirius," I said, using his first name to sound calming but only managing a kind of condescending whine, "We should not split up-"

"We may as well not go if we don't have the invisibility cloak, Evans," interjected Potter, "I'll go get it, Sirius, and you and Evans wait for me here."

"No, I'm getting it," retorted Sirius, his tone uncompromising, "I'm all hyped up." And with that, he had darted away and was taking the  main stairs two at a time while still managing to keep reasonably silent on the thick red carpet. James Potter sighed jadedly and ran his hand through his hair.

"So I guess now we wait. Again," I intoned, sitting down on the bottom step. We were silent for a few minutes, me fidgeting nervously with the split ends on my plait, Potter standing stock still with his wand raised. Left alone with nothing to do but look at him, I began to feel that warm, shivery feeling I had begun to know so well. How could I be like this? How? I almost giggled aloud. Potter's head swung round sharply at my involuntary movement and he raised his eyebrows. Fighting the urge to smile at him I returned his cool regard. He continued to stare at me for what felt like ages, unblinkingly. Do not blush, do NOT blush, I repeated to myself. Remarkably, I managed to prevent the heat from rushing to my face, though I was unable to stop from looking away self-consciously. I don't know if I imagined it, but when I looked up again it seemed his own pale cheeks had a slight pink tinge to them. I didn't want to think about what that could mean.

"About earlier today," he said suddenly, and there was a slight croak in his voice, "I'm afraid I must have come off as a complete nutter,"

"Why would you care what I think?" I asked, wanting, in some weird way for him to admit he did care. He didn't answer that of course; he just looked at me as if I was stupid, as if the answer was right in front of my face.

"I was feeling pretty…I don't know the word for it…kind of off the air. I can't explain it Evans, only it wasn't the real me! I don't usually act like that-" He was babbling. I had never seen Potter babble before, "I mean, my best friend's brother did just die, and all this stuff that's been happening-"

"Everyone has their off-days," I said, feeling embarrassed. But it was true. Goodness knows I have my fair share of off days. He looked surprised at my almost positive comment, and gratified, too. We didn't speak after that until Sirius came back, flushed and grinning that manic twist of the lips that so characterises him. He held up the silvery, liquid-like material that was Potter's cloak, and pulled it around himself. He held it up like a tent and gestured to Potter and I to join him. I felt a sharp jolt as my heart skipped beat. I hadn't thought about this. Get under the same cloak as James Potter? My raging hormones would probably cause me to explode…

But I steeled myself and stepped under the cloak, grimacing. I had horrible images of the two boys pressed on either side of me exchanging smirking winks over my head. Unfortunately Potter saw my grimace and made some hurt-sounding comment about how he didn't think he was so repulsive that one wouldn't want to be in close proximity to him. On the upside, he obviously hadn't realised that my true feelings were quite the opposite to repulsion. We started out walking separately, shoulder to shoulder, but like in a three-legged race, it is extremely difficult to walk in step while hunched under the same cloak and we were eventually forced to link arms to make it slightly easier. To quell the strange feeling I got from being pressed up against Potter, I thought of kissing Severus Snape.

We continued along through dark corridors, with Potter directing us from his map. I had no idea what he planned to do, but to my own chagrin I realised that I was happy just to let him take the lead. How cowardly I am. Finally, when the monotony of walking bent double (I suppose it was worse for the boys) and being able to see little but indistinct shadows through the veil-like cloak, Potter suddenly stopped completely and put a finger to his lips. Hardly necessary, but I suppose that's just what people do in situations like this.

"The teachers are in the classroom up the next set of stairs and to the right," whispered Potter so softly that even I, with my ear right near his mouth, could hardly make out what he was saying. Black and I nodded silently,

"Now what?"  I mouthed, turning my head to look at him, realising that his nose was about two centimetres away from my own and looking sharply down.

"I've an idea," whispered Black glowingly, "We'll have to take a look round first though. Prongs, the room they keep the school brooms in is just around the corner isn't it?" Potter's brows furrowed, then he smiled slowly (were they telepathically linked?),

"And the class room the teacher's are in has windows just below the roof, yeah?"

"Yes," said Black, "But it would be really risky," he grinned, and Potter grinned back. I had no idea what was going on, but now both of them had that mad look in their eye. I wondered what evil twist of fate had brought them together. They had proved in their years at Hogwarts that they worked as the perfect team, all their plans were diabolical, and nearly all of them worked. To the detriment of their intended victim, of course. I just hoped they could use the wayward brains to save the school from deatheaters – for performing a very-nearly-harmless prank is quite different to outwitting the most wicked and amoral man who has ever existed. I knew they were smart, but then they were also hotheaded and impulsive. They say that the Dark Lord Voldemort never acts impulsively. What if they were not thinking this plan they seemed to have silently concocted through properly? We were all three of us mad, really, we should have stayed in the Great Hall, we had no business being here. Dumbledore probably had it all under control…

"Hang on a second," I hissed a little louder than intended, "What are you talking about? Do you know there could be deatheaters just around the corner?" They looked at me as if they'd just realised I was there,

"Yes," said Sirius flippantly, "We're thinking of taking ourselves a few broomsticks!" Potter took his glasses off to clean them and nodded matter-of-factly.

"We can float up to the top of the outside of the class room, covered by the invisibility cloak, and look in on them through the windows! We can even go inside if it's too dark to see, and if the worst comes to the worst, we can just zip away on the brooms!" I raised my eyebrows. It sounded utterly preposterous.

"Excuse me?" Where they on drugs?

"Yes?" asked Sirius pertly,

"What if they look up and see us?"

"We'll have the invisibility cloak on, genius." That was too, too much,

"Oh, is that so. So what if they have some magical device that lets them see through your wonderful invisibility cloak? What then, genius?" Oh, that felt good. Sirius was formulating a smart retort when Potter broke in,

"Stop bickering. Evans, you do have a point, but as far as I can see, there's no way we can get a look in that room short of walking through the door, unless we do go up on broomsticks. If we had more time we could think of something else, but we'll just have to be really careful, and if things go bad make a run for it – or a swoop for it, if you will-"

"I suppose we can try," I said in my reasonable Head-Girl voice, "But let's not take any unnecessary risks." God, I sounded like Professor McGonagall.

"Right you are, Miss Evans," said Sirius, saluting me mockingly and linking his arm through mine, "Shall we go?"

Fifteen minutes later we were standing silently at one end of the corridor containing our objective. Using their highly developed breaking-and-entering skills, the two boys had obtained three broomsticks with almost disturbing ease. I clutched my 'Nebula500' like it was a hot brick but the other two casually slung their own over their shoulders while they contemplated our dangerous mission. It seemed more insane than ever. Here we were outside a room potentially full of deatheaters, trusting to luck that they didn't hear or see us. Not daring to talk, Potter mounted his broom with all the arrogance of a star Quiddich player and Black followed suit. I somehow scrambled onto mine after some initial trouble with making it rise to mounting level. I had never been a skilled flyer – to tell you the truth, I'm rather scared of heights. Now we were faced with a slight problem. The invisibility cloak would not cover three broomsticks. No matter how close we pressed together, or how uncomfortable and embarrassing it got, most of Sirius' legs and broom were clearly showing outside the cloak. We'd already discussed the possibility of only sending one person up under the cloak, but decided against it because the people below would be too vulnerable, and they wouldn't be able to get of the ground in time if we had to get away quickly. Especially me. In fact, I doubted if I'd be able to fly away quick enough even if I was already in the air. So there was only one solution.

"You'll have to take Evans on your broomstick, Prongs," mouthed Black. Potter looked less than pleased with this idea, as did I. He raised his eyebrows at Black as if to say, 'why can't you?' and I suddenly felt offended. I glowered. Black shrugged,

"You're the better flyer," he replied. This compliment seemed to convince Potter, because he dismounted and gestured to me, smiling slightly. With a scowl, I haughtily placed my own broom behind a nearby statue and walked stiffly over to Potter. He shifted forward on his broom and I awkwardly mounted behind him, loath to hold onto his waist but knowing I would have to once we got into the air. I saw an unreadable look pass between Potter and Black as the cloak was once again lowered over us all, and wondered at it. Now the cloak just covered us, though both boys had to crouch  very low, and everyone had to bend their knees up to cover their shoes. All in all, it was back-breakingly uncomfortable. Then it was time.

Potter skilfully manoeuvred the broomstick slowly up into the air, and Sirius did his best to match it. I loosely held onto the back of Potter's robes, but thankfully he didn't seemed to notice. We went up so smoothly and slowly that the motion reminded me of a muggle hovercraft. We glided on, our cloaked heads just brushing the roof of the corridor, until we were level with the windows. Potter carefully stopped us outside the first open window that ran along the top of the wall of The Classroom like he was parking a car.

This was it. Potter and Black, who were both facing the window, leaned forward slightly, and I held the ends of both brooms and had terrible visions of them overbalancing and catapulting themselves into a room full of killers. I watched there unmoving backs and impatiently wondered what they were seeing. Finally, when I was about to die from the agonising wait, Potter remembered me and, turned around dangerously, mouthing for me to lean over his shoulder so I could see. I couldn't be sure, but I court a faint flush on cheeks as he communicated this. I was terrified to do this, one, because I would be leaning on Potter, and two, because I could easily fall to my death from this height. But the hunger to know what was going on overpowered both these things, so I painstakingly raised my body so that my legs were wrapped tightly around the broomstick while I leaned heavily on Potter's back, my hands on his shoulders, my line of vision over his head and down into the room below. The weight didn't appear to trouble him, though simply holding myself in this position was killing my legs.

What I saw in The Classroom soon put an end to any thoughts of my discomfort. We'd found the teachers alright. And we'd found the deatheaters. Apparently they did have some kind of defence against the map.

I bit back a cry of fear. Dumbledore, the great, invisible bane of Voldemort, was backed up against a wall, with at least twenty ghastly, black cloaked figures standing around him, their wands raised. A weird white glow emanated from the combined force of their wands, and it seemed to swell around Dumbledore, encasing him in a prison of light, his thin wrists pressed against the wall by some invisible force and his own wand dangling in mid air before him. His usual benign expression was replaced by a look of fierce determination. I could literally see his mind and body straining to get free, trying to bend the suspended wand to his will. Trying, and nearly succeeding, for the wand quivered slightly, and the surrounding deatheaters were shaking violently in an effort to prevent Dumbledore's chief weapon from returning to its master. In my mind I urged Dumbledore to greater efforts. It was unnatural for someone like Dumbledore to be imprisoned. They must really have taken him by surprise. I then turned my attention to the other occupants of the room. What looked like the entire faculty were gagged, bound and held by a single deatheater, or two in the case of Professor Dupinkay, who was thrashing around like mad. I glanced around at him just in time to see a gloved fist come down hard on his head, rendering him unconscious. I felt tears spring to my eyes.

The tallest of the cowled figures stood in the centre of the room, and though he was masked, his nervousness showed through the impatient tapping of his right foot. He too had his wand trained on Dumbledore, and he had cause to be worried, for the great wizard's wand was now jerking more violently towards his hand. The tall deatheater, who I assumed to be the leader (just because he was tall I suppose), gestured abruptly to one of Dupinkay's now useless captors, obviously instructing him to join the ring around Dumbledore. Potter swivelled to look at me,

"What are they waiting for?" he mouthed. I shrugged helplessly. I had no idea. Why did they not bring in more of Voldemort's considerable forces and do whatever they were planning before the ministry arrived? Because they would arrive. Hagrid the gamekeeper was presumably still free, and once he realised what was going on, he would waste no time in contacting help.

My attention was brought back to the present situation as for the first time, a deatheater spoke.

"Where are they?" said the person holding Professor Lallie in a male, rather nasal voice, "We can't hold these much longer."  The central deatheater spun around,

"My Lord will get here in his own good time," he said coldly, "Do your job and do not question his plans." The other man shut up, but it was not long before someone else, this time a woman, piped up.

"What if they've lost control of the ministry?" she whined, "We'll all be dead before morning if they have." If their leader had had a face, I knew it would have been scowling,

"They will come! The plan was seamless!"

"I would not count on it," said Dumbledore, his deep, calming voice. The deatheater started and turned nervously towards him, not game to reply.

"The ministry has many defences your esteemed master may not have counted on," continued Dumbledore, and I heard McGonagall give a tiny whimper. Again, they ignored him, but I could see it in they way they stood that they had their doubts. I thought about what had been said. Was this the reason they could not carry out their plans? Voldemort himself wasn't present, or was otherwise occupied at the ministry, so they had to wait it out? Considering the fearful way they were treating Dumbledore, and the fact that they needed over twenty people to detain him, perhaps Voldemort was the only one they thought had a chance with him. This was slightly comforting, but it meant that we had to act quickly. We had to somehow get Dumbledore free so that if and when Voldemort arrived, we would stand a chance. But could we possibly do? It was hopeless.

The room had lapsed into silence again, but the iron will of Dumbledore versus the straining of the deatheaters was almost audible in the charged atmosphere. I watched Dumbledore's old face keenly. What was he thinking? No emotion showed on his features, though his long white hair and beard glowed in the white light, giving him a majestic, divine quality. And suddenly, as if he had felt my regard, he was staring straight at us. His eyes widened slightly…he knew we were there! How? My breath caught in my throat…would the deatheaters notice? Dumbledore quickly turned away, but not before I saw him wink, and ever so slightly, smile. I grinned back. Now that Dumbledore was in the know, everything would be alright, surely? Was I naïve to imagine that one old man was capable of single-handedly fixing any problem, great all small? It was just that I trusted him. He really had something. You couldn't not trust Dumbledore. After that, Potter painstakingly moved our brooms back the way we'd come. We hid behind a large suit of armour and stared at each other…