Just in time as an appetizer for the next movie.
Professor MacGonagall ran up the staircase at a speed no student could have guessed: though she seemed old and rather weak, it was only seconds later that she was facing the Fat Lady in her portrait. The corridor was filled with the oppressing nothingness of silence, and the teacher twitched nervously as the Fat Lady came to her senses, awaking from a nap. "Oh I'm so sorry", she apologized, yawning. "I was awake but then… well then I fell asleep…" she muttered to herself, digging deep inside her memory, searching for that flash of a moment during which her attention had failed and her mind had slipped into blindness. The professor did not take her comments in consideration, still twitching nervously before the portrait, twisting her wand in her long fingers. She finally spoke, a small flame of confidence shining in her eyes. "Cornucopia", she stated, her cheeks still white, her breath still regular, not at all affected by her run, nor by her apparent state of nervousness. The portrait swung open, and within seconds she was standing before her fellow teacher. Thalia was sitting on the ground, and she lift up her face to stare at her superior. Her wait was not long. Ms MacGonagall's line came out quickly, sounding already written. "It was a trap. They have Snape." Miss Beauregard jumped to her feet, ignoring the students that were sitting in a semi-circle around here, playing a muggle game very inappropriately called werewolf, and ran out the door, probably twice a fast as Miss MacGonagall had arrived. Harry suspected magic was involved in such a displacement. Within seconds, she was gone. The scene happened so quickly in comparison to the everlasting minutes that had stretched over the common house for the last hour that no student had time to react to it, either physically or mentally.
A sixth grader muttered: "Well then I guess it's game over."
"Hey!" complained Hermione. "I was finally the werewolf…"
"Get over it…" said the same teenager, standing up. He took a few steps, but was stopped in motion by a sound that had the power to immobilize any Hogwarts student.
"Where are you going, young man?" asked Miss MacGonagall.
"Downstairs… In the dungeons."
"And what gave you such an idea?"
"Simply following Th... Miss Beauregard."
Professor MacGonagall frowned, and shot an angry look at Harry and the grouping of members of the Order of the Phoenix, as if she attributed this habit of naming Thalia by her first name to them. Her assumption was probably right.
She set her attention back on the boy, who stood motionless in the middle of the circle of students.
"This castle is under attack, and so there is no reason for you to leave this common room. The fact that one of our best duelist has just been injured does not help your case. You are to stay here, inside these walls, where you are safe," she snapped.
The student sat back down. A girl that seemed to be his girlfriend softly patted his hand and suggested: "Why don't we play another round? I'll be the mayor…" As no one objected, she took the place Thalia was occupying seconds earlier. She lift her wand, and the small piece of parchment placed before everyone's lap slowly elevated itself from the ground. "No!" shouted Hermione. The crowd turned to face her. "I was the werewolf…" Ron sighed. "Alright then, let's continue this game. The day has come, bla bla bla, who do you think is the werewolf?" All hands lifted at once, pointing Hermione. She gasped, and folded her arms on her chest, resigned. She gave a flick of her wand and the small pieces of parchment went flying round, probably faster than necessary. When the "mayor" flicked her wand a few seconds later, they stopped and slowly fell to the students' feet. Hermione picked hers up, and snored. "Ugh. Villager," she mocked, apparently disappointed. Ron sighed. "So long for the suspense… Can the werewolf please kill her?" Ms MacGonagall sat down in a huge armchair that made her look skinnier than ever, and asked: "What is this game?" Hermione, too glad to exit such a horrible conversation, jumped to her teacher's rescue. "It's very simple. We all have a piece of paper which tells us who we are. There are villagers, who basically don't do anything, but hidden among them is a werewolf. Now every night…"
"Hum hum," coughed the "mayor". "Mind if we actually play?"
"Oh no, go on," replied Hermione, unable to detect the criticism in her friend's remark. "I'll just comment while it goes." The older student sighed, but nevertheless started narrating. "Our destinies are sealed. Let us now sleep, as the Gods treat us with another quiet night." Suddenly, by enchantment, the lights went down, and all students closed their eyes, holding them shut. "On this peaceful evening," continued the narrator, "the Gods have decide to grant us the gift of love. They have sent down Cupid, who possesses two magic arrows. Who does he chose to hit with them?" A small sound, barely a flutter, was heard within the circle, and then… "The two lovers have to protect themselves, because if one of them is killed, the other one will die of sorrow," Hermione whispered, far too loudly, at her teacher's intention. "Hey!" protested the other girl. "That's my part! And aren't you supposed to have your eyes closed?"
"My eyes are closed!"
"You're commenting blindly?"
"Of course."
A sigh was heard, followed by a feeble sound that seemed to be an insult, and the game was then pursued. "So, as you heard, bla bla bla, the lovers now discover themselves. You may open your eyes." A strangled giggle was heard, but it was quickly drowned under the narrator's story. "Oh please, lovers, try to be subtle… You can close your eyes. The werewolf then awakes. " On that Hermione opened her eyes. As Ms MacGonagall gasped, she slowly mouthed the words "I bluffed". She then turned to face the narrator, a huge smile on her face. The mayor did not seem to be as happy as Hermione as she indicated: "Who's life shall you steal to take with you in hell?"
Hermione hesitated a few seconds, and then pointed straight at Ron. As the narrator was about to nod, accepting her choice, the ashes in the fireplace suddenly turned into a flaming inferno. Shocked, all the students opened their eyes, in time to see Hermione's raised finger. "Hey! Why me?!" asked Ron. Before Hermione had time to formulate an answer, Ms MacGonagall was on her feet, a half burnt letter in her hands. Harry stared intently at it. The parchment had just escaped the flames of the fireplace. Somehow he felt it announced bad news. "Oh dear God," muttered Miss MacGonagall. "She was out of her mind!" She giggled a few seconds and then addressed the students: "The battle is over. The enemy has fled." Suddenly Fred and George were all over the place. "Hurray!" they chanted loudly, dancing around in the crowd, pushing many grumpy students around. Their teacher glared at them angrily, but they simply explained: "We've been stuck inside this horribly boring tower for hours now! Please forgive our energy!" As by enchantment, all the other students suddenly followed, and within seconds the tower seemed to small to contain a crowd of hyperactive teenagers. All laughed and shouted as the nervousness that had gnawed on their nerves for the entire night was evacuated. Resigned, the sole reasonable adult present in the room sat down and simply waited for the frenzy to extinguish itself. After a few minutes, it did, the students realizing they had very little sleep or food to sustain such intense activity. They all stopped, panting, and Fred, still finding energy somewhere hid deep inside his body, asked: "So, can we go to the dungeons now?" There was a silence, after which a small sound came. "No." A huge complaint hit the room like a wave, and retracted itself quickly. "Why do you want to go so badly?" the woman asked.
"Because, we stayed up all night in case something was to happen, we were ready to fight with her…" started a student.
"She never would have left you fight," MacGonagall pointed out.
"Maybe, but now it's over, can we at least go see what happened, ask for a narrative of the battle?" someone else asked.
After a pause, the teacher asked: "How long has it been since we received that letter?"
"About ten minutes."
"Alright then. Let's go."
***
When Ms MacGonagall entered the potions classroom, she was surprised to hear Thalia complain. "Dear God, not more visitors!" she exclaimed, as the oldest Gryffondor students joined the pack of Slytherin students that already filled the room. Miss MacGonagall kept shooting nervous glances at the crowd, looking for someone she apparently couldn't find. "Where is the teacher responsible for your safety?" she asked a random Slytherin student. "Oh, erm, Miss Sinistra said the black moon wouldn't favour, erm, her leaving of the, erm, hiding, or the hill… and anyways she said we could go if we wanted to!" As he saw his teacher's face turn to a shade of red approaching the one that represented her house, he ran away, his silhouette quickly lost in the mass of black uniforms. Most students seemed to consider this little trip to the dungeons as an excuse to go wild, but Harry and his friends cared enough about their teachers (or rather, were happy enough to see their side had won) to walk up to the front of the class, where Dumbledore and Thalia were standing. Harry could not see Snape, but moments later he saw his long body laid motionless on the ground. Dumbledore was already explaining the situation to the only few students who had enough curiosity and patience to listen to him.
"Seven, in total. Three fled rather quickly…"
"How come?"
"I was after them," he explained with a smile. "…but four of them managed to enter the dungeons," he continued as if nothing was.
"That's why you sent Snape," declared a Gryffondor, waiting for the confirmation of the Headmaster.
"Yes. That's why I sent Snape," the old man said, after a pause just long enough to make Harry doubt the sincerity of his answer. "Of course, I didn't know I sent him to face so many opponents," he added, honestly, this time.
"And then?" a Slytherin urged.
"And then he came down here and fought by Miss MacGonagall's side, of course."
"How was he injured?" a Gryffondor asked, the smile on his face just a tad to wide to be appropriate.
Snape's silhouette finally moved, and he slightly lifted his head towards the small group of teenagers. "Malfoy," he croaked. "Son of a… But my girlfriend scared him away!" he chanted with a horrible cough, bragging as a six year old would have. "I was so happy to see you attack him."
"Stop, you're being ridiculous," Thalia said.
"No, I'm serious. You attacked him, for me. That was great."
"It actually hurts me that you doubted that fact" she replied, giggling.
"And so after that," Dumbledore continued, drowning their murmurs with his deep voice, "we realized Thalia might be of use."
"Why only at that point?" a Slytherin asked.
To Harry, it was obvious. He stared at Ron, who stared back, incomprehension in his eyes. Hermione, catching sight of their silent exchange, elbowed Harry in the ribs. "You idiot," she whispered so softly even Harry had difficulty comprehending her words, "not everyone knows their dating. In fact, almost nobody does!" Harry let out an inaudible "Ah!" and focused his attention back on Dumbledore. "…friendship could have pushed her to attack other friends," Harry heard. "Good one," he thought.
"And so we sent Miss MacGonagall, and within seconds Miss Beauregard was here. And within seconds they were gone."
"You mean… you left Snape, injured and alone?" inquired a Slytherin, apparently worried for the head of his House.
"It paid off in the end. And he is still alive," the Headmaster pointed out.
He excused himself, and quickly marched towards the two teachers sitting on the bare, cold floor. Harry turned to Hermione. "Thanks for the reminder," he told Hermione.
"No problem. You know," she said, switching subjects, "I agree with Snape. I'm glad to see Thalia has attacked Malfoy."
"Yeah, it's reassuring. At least you know she's on whatever side Snape is," Ron added.
"All we need to find out now is on what side Snape stands," Harry laughed.
The small group laughed.
"Man could I use some sleep," Ron said.
"Then go upstairs to sleep," Hermione offered.
"Hell no! I'm not missing a word of Thalia's tale!"
Harry laughed.
"No, we should go to sleep," Hermione continued, "or we'll be dead tired in classes tomorrow… well, this morning."
"Come on," Harry objected, "you really think we'll have classes? It'll be a day off. It's rather cool, actually, that way we can say goodbye to everyone before leaving for the Burrow. Oh, wait no, at the Order Head Quarters."
"Don't tell me you miss the Christmases you spent in Hogwarts?!" Hermione asked, surprised.
"Of course not. Still… It would be nice to relax all together one last time."
"And talk to Thalia before we leave," Ron added.
"She's not celebrating with us?" Harry said.
"Nan. My mom offered, but apparently she'll be spending her vacations in some nordic regions. Dumbledore wasn't too happy about that…"
"Why not?" Hermione continued.
"North means, well, dark. Remember Durmstrang? Yeah. And it could also be a cover up for a visit to the Malfoy mansion. Well, that option is gone, now…"
As his friends spoke, Harry twisted his neck to stare at Dumbledore, at first to make sure he couldn't catch a word of their conversation, then simply out of curiosity. He was knelled over Snape, as Thalia enumerated an apparently never-ending list of ingredients she wanted him to fetch her. He then left, and the couple was left alone. Thalia placed her hands on Snape's body, apparently searching for the different injuries he might have, the man grimacing every time she found a new one. After a little while, she brought her hands to her waist and firmly grabbed her wand. A few spells had time to shoot out of it's end, but suddenly, Snape stopped her. Whatever he was telling Thalia did not make her happy, as she was frowning deeply. After a few seconds of silence, she finally shrugged her shoulders and gave out an awkward smile. Snape smiled back, sincerely. Within seconds, Thalia's wand was placed on the man's forehead, in a not very delicate way. Dumbledore threw himself beside Thalia, and Harry quickly walked up to them. His two friends, who had been observing the scene since they had notice Harry was, were by his side in seconds. "This isn't Snape," Thalia said.
"Baby you're ridiculous!" Snape replied, his voice hoarse.
"You haven't called me baby in years. You know I hate it," Thalia answered.
"And right now you deserve being called that way. You are out of your mind!"
"What makes you think so?" Dumbledore asked, diplomatic.
"He didn't recognize my smile…" the woman started.
"You're going to let me die for a smile?!" Snape exclaimed.
"… and he refuses that I heal him."
"Seeing you're tired enough to think I'm not myself…" Snape pointed out.
"I hadn't mentioned that fact when you refused."
Hermione stepped in. "How would refusing to be healed your way be any proof that this is in fact not Snape?"
"The spell I usually uses erases any alteration magic has recently made to one's body… including potions," Thalia explained.
"So?"
"Well it's incredibly effective, and Snape knows that. So the only reasons why this person,"she said, seeming disgusted, "would refuse to get healed is that such a person doesn't want the effect of a certain potion or spell to be erased."
Harry didn't focus on Thalia's words, but rather on Snape's face – if it really was Snape. His attention was drawn to the man's disgusted expression. As he stared at Hermione, his eyes were filled with hate. "Why do you stare at her that way?" he let out, interrupting his teachers. "She's trying to defend you!" Harry saw something click in Thalia's mind. Suddenly in her hand was gleaming a knife, now clean of any speck of Harry's blood.
"You better make this knife disappear," Dumbledore ordered, fulminating.
"Not today Albus. Fetch me Malfoy. Junior."