Hufflepuffs are supposed to be loyal, they said years later. So why weren't you? Where were you when they needed your help, when everything was falling to pieces, when you ran away?


The Great Hall is in a state of confusion, but not as bad as it will be by the following morning when the battle is over and won, half the wall is collapsed, and the bodies of students and townspeople clutter the slick tiles. The night before that, the Hall is full of bleary-eyed students clad in dressing gowns and milling about the four tables; most of them have just been roughly woken from slumber with a sudden order to assemble in the Hall. Attempting to bring some sense of control to the situation is Professor McGonagall, as she explains the plan for immediate evacuation of students to safety. Zacharias Smith, still groggy and half-asleep with only one trainer on, struggles to follow the information with which they've all been presented – a battle is about to happen? He is supposed to leave? It all feels like a very bad dream.

But the dream only gets worse, when a cold, measured voice interrupts, seeming to come from nowhere and everywhere all at once. People scream, grabbing on to one another's arms and looking around frantically for the source of the voice. Zacharias has never heard the voice before, but there is no doubt who it could be: the voice of You-Know-Who. "Your efforts are futile. You cannot fight me."* And following that is the loudest, heaviest silence he has ever heard; it sends shivers down his spine. How will a school full of untrained teenagers and a handful of professors win against the most powerful and feared wizard of all time?

Some of the older students remain in place, their faces set as they prepare to fight. Others panic; some of the young ones cry. Zacharias' mind starts racing; he thinks of his year in the so-called Dumbledore's Army, in which he practised and learnt spells for exactly this type of potential future disaster. And indeed, many of his fellows in the D.A. are among those who are staying to fight a battle that seems lost from the start. But Zacharias has never been that impressive of a fighter; his participation won't mean much to anyone there. And if this is to be his last hour, he wants it to matter. He thinks of his sister, alone in her flat in Hogsmeade, probably having a panic attack at that very moment; if Zacharias is needed anywhere, it is with Ariadne.


"Ariadne! Watch this!"

Nine-year-old Zacharias stood atop an old stump, proudly raising a twig in the air, while the neighbour's boy, Timothy, stood aside, frowning. "Expelliarmus!" cried Timothy, pointing a twig at Zacharias.

"You can't do that, I already won," said Zacharias. "Dumbledore is supposed to beat Grindelwald, anyway."

"But you always get to be Dumbledore!" exclaimed Timothy. "You have to be Grindelwald next time."

"Why? Then I would lose."

"You can't always win," Timothy asserted.

"Why not?" Zacharias challenged once more.

Twelve-year-old Ariadne Smith poked her head out of the house and into the back garden. "What am I supposed to be watching, Zach? This isn't 'Dumbledore and Grindelwald's Epic Battle' again, is it?"

Zacharias, still perched on the stump with the afternoon sun behind him illuminating his curly golden hair, grinned. "How did you know?" he asked.

"What else would it be?" She laughed and disappeared inside the house once more.

"Now we switch places," said Timothy.

Zacharias nodded begrudgingly; he hated having to play the bad guy almost as much as he hated having to lose, but Timothy was his friend. So the two of them switched, and Zacharias played the evil wizard Grindelwald and lost the epic battle against Timothy as Dumbledore, only calling it quits on the game once Zacharias was securely ensconced in the prison of the firewood shed.

A faraway voice carried over the fence, and Timothy looked up. "That's Dad calling me for dinner," he said, jumping up and dusting the soil off his hands. "I've got to go, but I'll be back tomorrow!" And with that, Timothy was away, clambering over the fence while Zacharias shouted after him.

"Oi! Get me out of here! Timothyyy!"

When his friend did not return to aid him, Zacharias pounded on the wall of the shed for a while, shouted at no one, and then sat moodily on a pile of logs, alone and afraid. At times, he was certain he could smell the aromas of dinner coming from his own house, but mostly his attention was focused on the scuttling sounds of spiders in the logs, or other creepy things he couldn't see in the frightening, unwelcome dark. And finally after what felt like hours, he heard footsteps approaching again, and pounded on the wall again to get attention. He peeked through the gap between the door and frame to see Ariadne. "How did you get locked in there?" she asked. "Where's Timothy?"

"Ariadne, get me out," said Zacharias, and finally he heard the sweet sound of the latch lifting on the other side. A chink of evening sunlight poured in, illuminating dust in the air, as the door opened, and Zacharias squinted at the sudden influx of light and then bolted towards the house.

"You jerk, you didn't even say 'thank you'!" Ariadne yelled after him.

Zacharias paused briefly, turning around with a wide grin. "Thanks Ari," he said, and then continued his sprint into the house.


He sped into the Hufflepuff House common room, the round wooden door shutting behind him about ten seconds before curfew, and he let out a sigh of relief. Zacharias had been given a detention for speaking out of turn in Dark Arts class and calling the new Ministry curriculum 'worthless', and Professor Umbridge had kept him until shortly before curfew so he'd had to hurry back in order to avoid another offence and another potential detention.

But the curriculum was still worthless. He wasn't learning anything in class, and he wanted answers. For his fourth year had begun amidst a swirl of rumours in the shadows; rumours about Voldemort's return, and yet another story about famous Harry Potter in the limelight. And though Zacharias often asked Ariadne, then a seventh-year Ravenclaw, he got no further information from her either. No one really had any idea what was happening outside Hogwarts, and if they did, they weren't sharing it.

So when Zacharias returned from his detention and sat at a table in the common room, the relevant conversation at a neighbouring table naturally caught his attention. "Do you think You-Know-Who is really back?" Hannah Abbott whispered to Ernie Macmillan.

"Harry says so, and I trust Harry," said Ernie. "And he's willing to teach us real Defence Against the Dark Arts. I wouldn't miss this for the world."

"Miss what?" Zacharias asked, approaching their table and sitting down in an empty chair while they watched him with expressions of surprise. "I just got back from a detention with that hag Umbridge who won't let us do real magic, and then I heard you say something about learning spells and hearing Potter's story. Is it true?"

Hannah and Ernie glanced at one another, and then Hannah said, "Well, Harry Potter is having a meeting to help us learn Defence because we can't learn it otherwise. But it's got to be a secret, you understand?"

"Tell me more about it," Zacharias insisted. "How is he going to do that?" This was the best rumour Zacharias had heard in months; other people wanted to undermine Professor Umbridge too, and just maybe, Zacharias thought, he might finally get more information about what was really happening out there.

"We don't know much more than that," said Hannah. "We haven't had the meeting yet."

"Can I come?"

"I don't see why not," said Ernie.

And Zacharias signed up for the group that later called themselves Dumbledore's Army; he wanted information, and he wanted to defy the authority of Umbridge, but the group was more serious and involved than that, and it was more than he intended to sign up for. For he found out far more than he wanted to know; the stakes this time around were much higher than his glorious childhood game of epic battles. This was real. And Voldemort, a wizard who had now potentially returned from the dead, was far more fearsome than the wizard who had been defeated by the Hogwarts headmaster forty years previously.

But for all of this, there was no proof aside from Harry Potter's word, and if Harry was wrong, then it didn't have to be real, and it wasn't as scary. It made sense to Zacharias to question all he was told and not trust instantly, but no one else seemed to appreciate his scepticism, and from the very first day Zacharias made a bad impression on his fellow rebels, who followed Harry with blind faith.


Those rebels follow Harry into the battle as well, despite that several are underage and none of them are prepared. And Zacharias can respect them for it, but he cannot do it himself. He rushes out, past scores of younger, smaller students; they will all get to safety under the guidance of the professors, but out in Hogsmeade, Ariadne is by herself, potentially with Death Eaters passing by under her window. Zacharias must leave Hogwarts first, even if it means squashing the toes of a couple of second-years, because there is no time to waste. He is afraid for himself, of course; but even more, he is afraid for his sister.

As he pushes through the crowd, fleeing, he locks eyes with Hannah, fellow Hufflepuff and member of the D.A., who is preparing to stay and fight, and she gives him only a hard stare of disappointment. His friends see him as a coward - doubtless others see worse. But there is no time to explain; he has to go.

It is dark and eerily silent outside the castle. The lights that so impressed him upon first sight of Hogwarts are dimmed, and the water of the lake is turbulent in the wind as if in anticipation of what is to come. Zacharias stands facing his old school for a moment before turning his back on it and his fellows, leaving them to their fate as he runs away down the path to town.

When the castle lights no longer aid him and full darkness creeps up, he is afraid and lonely. Dark shapes and shadows surround him, and in his heightened awareness, each shape is an enemy. He thinks of those secret meetings with the D.A., the times they spent learning and feeling confident, those friends he learned with whom he is now abandoning, and whispers "Expecto Patronum." A silvery stoat soars from his wand and lights the path to Hogsmeade for him.


His sixth year was marked by perpetual fear. Last year, it had been okay; Dumbledore was still there and the school felt safe. But now, Dumbledore was dead and the Carrows were in charge of punishment, and they used Unforgivable Curses on students in detention. Zacharias tried to keep his mouth shut, but the things that he saw and felt made it impossible. He had been the recipient of the Cruciatus Curse once, while Alecto Carrow stood over him cackling at his screams. And he saw the spirit crushed out of so many of his classmates, passing by their sombre, bruised faces in the corridors, and there was nothing anyone could do. He even missed Harry Potter's presence, because at least Harry gave people hope.

On top of that, sixth year was when classes got more intense as preparation for N.E.W.T.s, a workload that had given Ariadne frequent anxiety attacks as she struggled with managing her many classes. Zacharias had been there for her during much of that, but now she was out in the world on her own, when the world was at its most dangerous. And Zacharias had never been prone to anxiety himself, but that year put him in a perpetual state of stress and paranoia that left him exhausted every day.

"Sleepin' in class, Mr Smith?" said the voice of Amycus Carrow, and Zacharias looked up, red-faced, to see his entire Dark Arts class staring at him, some with looks of horror on their faces, others with pity.

"No, I wasn't," said Zacharias.

Amycus Carrow ignored him. "That's grounds for a detention, innit? My office at seven tonight."

Zacharias kept facing forward, his mouth shut tight and his heart pounding.

At seven that night, he went to his detention, expecting to be given a dose of the Cruciatus Curse. But what he found instead was Hannah Abbott sitting at a desk, dry tear tracks on her face, while Amycus Carrow grinned darkly at Zacharias as he entered the room.

"Miss Abbott's been distributin' illegal publications abou' Undesirable Number One," said Carrow. "The punishment for that's the Cruciatus Curse, and if you don't perform it, then you'll get that punishment too."

"I have to... use the Cruciatus Curse on Hannah?" Zacharias could feel his heart pounding in his throat.

"Unless you want it done to you!"

Zacharias met Hannah's eyes. She looked a lot like Ariadne, especially with her blonde hair as it was in a messy bun. He pointed his wand at her, but could do nothing else, even though his palms were sweaty and his pulse racing as he knew what awaited him if he didn't. "I can't," said Zacharias. As if the comparison wasn't already prominent enough, he recalled Hannah's anxiety condition as well. It would be like torturing his own sister.

"You can't?" asked Carrow, raising his wand to point at Zacharias. "Or you won't?"

"I can't!" cried Zacharias, but his protest was cut short by screams from himself and Hannah.


"No, no," says Ariadne, her wild eyes darting around the room as she remains in place, huddled against the wall with her hands over her ears. "I can't breathe."

Zacharias lightly rests a hand on Ariadne's shoulder. "I'm here, Ari."

Something thuds downstairs, followed by the sound of shattering glass, and Ariadne's head jerks up. "Can you fight them off?" she asks. "You told me about all those defensive spells you were practising in your spare time. Are you able to fight?"

Frowning slightly, Zacharias admits, "No, I'm not able to fight."

"Why not?"

"I'm too scared."

Ariadne nods, her breathing slowing to a more regular pace. "Me too."

Zacharias slides over on the floor right next to Ariadne and they sit there side by side through the crashing sounds and the screams outside, waiting it out until the sun rises and the war ceases.


That's the story they never told; you were loyal. In a way, you were a hero, but no one will ever believe you.


* Italicised dialogue is from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows chapter 31, 'The Battle of Hogwarts.'