Barty Crouch Jr. was feeling on top of the world. Everything was proceeding precisely as planned. One of his biggest worries about impersonating Moody was fooling Moody's good friend (and master of Legilimancy) Dumbledore, but the doddering old man didn't suspect anything at all was wrong. In fact, he'd happily acquiesced to Barty's request to practice the Imperius curse on students. Potter was running the challenges like a good little mouse, even taking the heat off Barty by claiming he had put his name in the cup in the first place. All was proceeding apace and his master would soon be returned to glory!
All this would have been incredibly wonderful all on its own. But something even more glorious was going on. It turned out that Albus Dumbledore, champion of the light and defeater of Grindelwald, was not quite the saintly individual he had presented himself to be. Potter and his friends had done an impressively thorough job of rooting out Dumbledore's massive amounts of corruption and villainy, though the late Lord Greengrass's investigation had given them a considerable head start. If Barty was the real Moody, he'd be dragging them off to the Aurors and swearing them in, heedless of the minimum age requirement. They were just that good.
It was an impressive web of deception Dumbledore had woven. Even the Dark Lord, as loathe as Barty was to admit it, probably had fallen for it. He had taken control of Hogwarts's wards to a level no one else had before and it had given him an unprecedented level of control over the student body. Dumbledore not only used it to cover up his misdeeds but for random, mindless sadism, according to the tracker the Weasley curse breaker had put on the wards. A particular passion of his was taking loving couples and making them beat each other up, then wiping their memories and healing their injuries so no one knew what had happened.
Of course, Barty had no moral objections to any of this. He was purely thinking about it in terms of how it would affect the coming war. He knew that if he could bring down Dumbledore, it would provide the Dark Lord with an insurmountable advantage. With faith in the light shaken, people would gravitate to the dark. The Dark Lord would probably be able to take over the Ministry without firing a single spell. And from there, they would rule over the worthless Muggles of Britain, and soon, the world!
There would only be one chance to expose Dumbledore. If they failed, they'd end up dead or worse. So Barty, through his enthralled father, had decided to make the Yule Ball into the greatest spectacle he could possibly think of. A veritable who's who of society. Ministry luminaries, including the heads of various departments and the minister himself. An array of foreign diplomats. Anyone who was anyone would be there. And they'd all be there to see Amelia Bones, head of the DMLE, take Dumbledore down. It would be public. It would be official. It would be undeniable. And it would be glorious.
Dumbledore's power over the wards appeared absolute, but they were quickly running out of juice. Whatever spell he was powering with them (and Barty did not buy Lord Greengrass's theory of him using the wards to stave off dementia) was taking a considerable strain. There simply was not enough power left to power that spell and pull off whatever tricks he would try to use to get out of an arrest levied in front of hundreds of witnesses.
Barty really did have to admire Dumbledore's persistence and cunning. He could have been an excellent dark lord himself if he'd had the will to do so. He had clearly learned his lesson well from Grindelwald; this whole thing was exactly the sort of thing the previous dark lord would have done. Barty's best guess about what Dumbledore wanted, based on the pieces of information he'd gotten from Potter and his friends, was that he intended to have Harry heroically sacrifice himself against the Dark Lord, whereupon Dumbledore would swoop in and grab the glory for himself.
They had more than enough incriminating evidence to convince Bones to arrest Dumbledore, but more evidence sure as heck couldn't hurt. So when Potter was sure of Dumbledore was out of his office due to that wonderous map of his (which Barty had made sure to surreptitiously confound as soon as he had it in his hands to make sure it showed him as Moody), he sneaked into Dumbledore's office.
There was really nobody more skilled at confounding magical objects than Barty. True, it was a skill of limited use most of the time, but not when it came to convincing the paintings in the headmaster's office that he wasn't there and never had been there. The office seemed…odd in a way he couldn't quite put his finger on, thanks to the enhanced senses Moody's magical eye had provided Barty. It left him with a weird, unpleasant borderline queasy feeling.
His eye quickly noticed something was wrong with the headmaster's phoenix, Facts or whatever its name was. He waved his wand and released any spells that may have been on it. Immediately, the phoenix smashed through the bars of its cage and flew out the window, flying at top speed as far from the castle as possible. Well, Barty was just going to have to pray Dumbledore assumed Facts left on its own.
Growing up in a house with many secrets, all of which he'd wanted to learn (the Hat hadn't put him in Ravenclaw just for show), Barty had grown more adept at ferreting out hiding places than most. (Heh, ferreting out. Brought back what he did to that Nott kid last week. Good times.) Barty's persistence paid off when he found one of the paintings had a strange magical signature. He transfigured it back into its original form and it was a safe. A powerful unlocking spell later, and Barty had struck gold: a stack of Dumbledore's journals.
Barty quickly left the office and returned to the kids who were waiting for him in the DADA classroom. A more motley crew, Barty could hardly think of. The Savior of the Magical World, a mudblood, a blood traitor, a dyke blood traitor, a transfer student, some fae freak, and the Malfoy heir. Yet working together, they'd somehow managed to do the impossible: get Dumbledore in a position where he could be taken down.
"Who's up for some light reading?" Barty asked, waving around the journals triumphantly.
"You had me at reading, Professor Moody," the mudblood said. Its face was alight with enthusiasm and glee. It had been extremely furious ever since it returned from Gringotts and very vengeance minded. Barty could definitely use that.
The journals certainly made for interesting reading. With every minute that passed, the investigative team seemed more and more disturbed by what they were reading. And with good reason. The journals outlined various murders and depravities the likes of which even turned Barty's stomach. Strangely, the only thing they didn't include was what Dumbledore had done to the wards. It was never mentioned.
"Listen to this," the Weasley boy said, his voice trembling openly. "'My plans to finally rid myself of those wretched Potters are finally coming to fruition. Thanks to Trelawney's fake prophecy, Tom intends to target the Potters, just as I planned. I will rid myself of that…" He trailed off, unable to continue any further.
Barty grabbed the book. "'…rid myself of that mudblood whore who keeps questioning me and her useless husband. And their baby will die too, but sacrifices must be made for the greater good." Potter's eyes widened in pure horror. "I tricked them into making Pettigrew their Secret Keeper, and then Imperiused Pettigrew into telling Tom where they were hiding.'"
Greengrass motioned to have the book, and Barty gave it to her. "'The baby somehow survived the Killing Curse and defeated Tom. The mudblood must have been more clever than even I, as bewildering a concept as that is. To complicate matters further, Tom…made the boy into a Horcrux…'" She stared at Potter in horror. Thankfully, everyone ignored Barty's smirk when he read about Horcruxes. If only he had been capable of such beautiful darkness!
Potter looked down at the floor, ashamed. "It's taken care of." He wiped off what turned out to be makeup simulating his scar off his face, revealing an unblemished forehead.
"'When the time comes, Potter will be made to sacrifice himself for the Greater Good. He must do so willingly. As such, I have decided to put him with his…'" She paused to wipe a tear from her eyes. "'…his contemptible Muggle relatives. They will abuse him and make him pliable and sub…submissive." Tears were openly streaming down her face now. "'And when I rescue him, he'll be so grateful, he'll do anything I say."'
"It was always him from the very beginning," Potter whispered. He didn't sound horrified, just completely numb.
"We don't need to read anymore of this," the Weasley girl said, grabbing the book from Daphne's hands and slamming it down on a table. "The professor can take care of that. We don't need to subject ourselves to this…" She waved her hands around helplessly, unable to think of a strong enough word to contain the content of the journals.
As much as Barty would like to relish their further suffering, there was no way to convince them to stay without looking very suspicious, so he adopted a kind, almost fatherly smile instead. Though on Moody's scarred face it likely came across as horrifying. "Aye, lass, you're right. Let me handle everything. I'll tell you if there's anything you need to know."
Even Barty could not have foreseen what he ended up reading in the journals. Dumbledore really loved to gloat in the damn things, and it turned almost everything Barty had thought he knew about the history of the last couple decades upside down. For starters, not that it was especially relevant now, but Grindelwald was completely innocent. Dumbledore had locked him in Nurmengard a long, long time ago and had used his glamoured appearance to commit the sins that he had supposedly committed. Then he used illusions to make it look like he'd defeated him in a duel.
But Barty wasn't interested in ancient history. He was more concerned about the more recent things Dumbledore had done. The last three years had, it turned out, been meticulously planned by Dumbledore. He had deliberately let the Dark Lord into the school, maneuvered Harry into confronting him in the hopes that one or both of them would die. He'd let the basilisk run amok, knowing that the Weasley girl was being possessed by what Barty strongly suspected was one of the Dark Lord's horcruxes. And last year, he'd Imperiused Fudge into putting the Dementors at Hogwarts, just for the sadistic amusement of watching the students suffer by having them near.
Dumbledore's goose was going to be well and thoroughly cooked. And once he was gone, the Dark Lord would be ascendant. Heck, he could probably convince Potter to join them when all was said and done, though Potter's love of mudbloods and blood traitors made it uncertain.
When asked, the children helpfully volunteered to distract Dumbledore with a pranking extravaganza the likes of which Hogwarts probably hadn't seen since the day of the marauders, allowing Barty to sneak out and go to the Ministry of Magic. He knocked on the door to Bones' office and charged in without waiting for an answer.
"Alastor?" Bones said, sounding quite surprised. "What brings you to this neck of the woods?"
"The case that will define your career, that's what brings me here." He slammed the journals down on Bones' desk. Bones opened one of them and immediately looked like she was about to throw up. "Feast your eyes on the life and lies of Albus Dumbledore."
Draco was absolutely terrified. Not because he was going to be dancing with Harry, or even that they were, should all go well (and when did it?), going to be bringing down Albus Dumbledore. No, what was making him so scared was this was the night when he was finally going to have to face down his father. Thus far, Mother had successfully redirected Father's ire and thwarted his attempts to try to reach out to Draco. But nothing lasted forever, and there was no way Father wouldn't be present at the social event of the season.
Father had made his feelings about Harry abundantly clear numerous times over the last few years. He despised Harry for defeating Voldemort, and that was the end of it. While Mother may have been aghast at Draco's uncouth behavior towards Harry, Father had always encouraged it. And Father had a similar level of contempt for gay people. The news Draco was in a relationship with any man, let alone Harry, would have made him beyond furious. Draco knew he was going to have to choose between Harry and Father by the end of the night, and there was no doubt in his mind: He was going to choose Harry.
Harry had shown him how to be his best self, simply by leading by example. Harry had given Draco hope. Hope that he could overcome the poisonous ideology his father had spoon-fed him for a decade and become a better man. Would Draco ever be a simpering, do-gooding Gryffindor type? No, obviously not. Draco was a Slytherin and he was proud of it. He would use his mind, his cunning and ambition, to make the world a better place. And to make Harry proud of him.
When the time came, he was going to make the right choice. He was going to stand with Harry. And if God or Merlin or whoever the hell watched over mages was watching over him, with any luck, he'd actually live to see another day. For now, he would try to enjoy himself as much as possible. Putting aside the whole imminent confrontation with his father thing, it was sure to be a spectacular evening. He would get to spend time in the arms of the most handsome boy alive and watch as Dumbledore finally paid for his manifold crimes.
Draco was skeptical at first, but it turned out when Mad-Eye Moody wanted something done, it got done. Amelia Bones was scheduled to arrive about around the start of the ball with a squadron of a large number of Aurors, all of whom were known to have Death Eater sympathies. Which was normally a gigantic problem, but when it came to arresting the Leader of the Light, who was worshipped and venerated by most of the more reputable members of the populace, turned out to be a useful trait for once.
Once Dumbledore was arrested, Harry would be safe. They would all be safe. Normally, Draco wouldn't have a ton of faith in the system, but this time, all sides had motivation to take Dumbledore down. It was in their own self-interest. Especially given that Dumbledore's journal had revealed his mental manipulations had extended to various members of the Wizengamot as well.
All Draco had to do was just watch the fun, dance with his boyfriend, and pray fervently he could somehow escape Father's retribution. He was reasonably confident he could. After all, it was doubtful that Father would resort to more than hurtful words and possibly disowning him from the family in front of so many witnesses. Granted, that would not be fun, but Draco would, quite literally, live.
"Would you stop pacing around and stand still?" Blaise demanded as they waited in the common room for the girls to get ready. It had been decided the fourth year Slytherins would all leave as a group. Safety in numbers, especially tonight. "You're making me dizzy, Draco."
"But there's going to be so many eligible men there," Draco whined. "What if Harry finds someone he likes more than me?"
Nott put on his trademark sneer. They were all taught how to sneer effectively before Hogwarts, but Nott took it to an art form. "Good riddance, then. Filthy disgusting blood traitor! He slew the Dark Lord, but he will rise again! He will –"
Greg, of all people, cast a silencing spell on Nott. "Don't spoil our evening." Vincent grunted in agreement. In a bizarre turn of events, Greg had been asked out by one of the more attractive Beauxbatons girls, who had been thought to have been a serious contender for being picked for the tournament before Delacour had been chosen. Draco could only conclude opposites attracted. Vincent didn't have a date. Draco wasn't entirely certain he knew what one was. Blaise was going with one of the Patil twins – the Ravenclaw one; Draco could never remember their names. Nott was going with Pansy. In Draco's opinion, they deserved each other. Millicent, in an even odder turn of events, was going with Krum.
"Harry's bi, remember?" Blaise pointed out. "Not just the guys you have to worry about." Draco let out a squeak of horror. What if Granger ended up going out with Harry? Draco would just die. "Come on, Draco, you know you've got Harry wrapped around your little finger. That boy is so in love with you, it's not even funny."
Draco nodded firmly. "That's right! Yes. I am a Malfoy! He should be grateful I'm giving him the time of day." He grimaced. This was going down a familiar and unpleasant thought pattern. He metaphorically backed up quickly. "I'm just going to have to be my charming self and there shouldn't be a problem."
"That's the spirit, Draco," Greg said, sounding vaguely amused. Draco looked askance at him. Greg had seemed a lot less vacant and stupid lately. That was maybe something that needed to be addressed. Later.
After what seemed like an eternity, the girls emerged from their dorms and presented themselves. Draco may have been as gay as it was possible to be, but even he could appreciate, from an aesthetic perspective, the effort the girls had gone to.
Draco kissed each of the girls' hands in turn, as protocol demanded of the highest ranking individual there. He did not linger over anyone, especially Pansy. Draco despised Pansy. She'd been practically crawling all over him for over a year, convinced they'd somehow end up in a marriage contract together. The terrifying thing was until he started his thing with Harry, she probably would have been right.
"Such a gentleman," Daphne said with a pointed glare at Nott, who just scowled at her. "A pity none of us girls will ever get to experience that for ourselves."
"Yes, I got Harry and you got stuck with Weasley," Draco bragged, only half-seriously. "I daresay I know which of us is going to have the more fun night."
Professor Snape escorted them to the entrance hall. Contrary to popular belief, Professor Snape was not Draco's godfather, and contrary to popular perception, they were not especially close. Professor Snape favored Draco in his class to curry favor with Father, but outside of class, Draco would have been surprised if they'd exchanged more sentences than he could count on his fingers in the four years they'd been at school. Which suited Draco just fine. Professor Snape had always rubbed him the wrong way.
Any thoughts about Professor Snape instantly disappeared when he saw Harry standing awkwardly near the doors, looking absolutely gorgeous. Draco must have been the dumbest person in the world to have alienated this magnificent man for a single second, much less two straight years. After plenty of begging and pleading (and some creative usage of his tongue) Draco had finally convinced Harry to buy some dress robes that actually matched his station, or, at the very least, make him look good. The old ones hadn't been as bad as Ron's – that was probably not physically possible – but they hadn't been the most flattering either. Draco felt very smug to see all that persuasion paid off.
"You look…wow, you look amazing, Draco," Harry said and planted a gentle, feather-light kiss on Draco's lips for what felt like both the barest fraction of an instant and an eternity. "Really going all out. I'm glad you ditched your old outfit too. Made you look like a vicar."
Draco had no idea what that meant, but it was presumably some Muggle thing, and the absolute last thing he wanted was to start an argument now, which would likely happen if the conversation veered in the direction of the Muggle world.
"Well, I'm glad I could meet with your approval," Draco purred. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ron eye a potted plant as if seriously considering the possibility of having to hurl in it. "This is actually akin to the dress robes my great-grandfather wore when –"
"Minister Dendron was inaugurated," a silky and menacing voice called out in a voice that was at a near whisper level, but nonetheless seemed to carry effortlessly through the entrance hall. Draco gulped as he saw his parents walking towards him. Father seemed eerily, icily calm, but Draco knew better than to be fooled by surface appearances. Beneath all that, he was boiling and bubbling with fury. "But the difference between you and my grandfather, Draco, was that he took my grandmother as his escort."
Draco gave a formal bow of his head. "Father," he said in a flat, deadened tone. He nodded and gave a slight smile at Mother. "Mother," he said in a much more enthusiastic but still formal tone.
"Draco, dear, you look quite fetching," Mother said in a shockingly warm tone.
Harry stepped over to Mother, ignoring Father entirely, which just seemed to infuriate the man more, and kissed her offered hand. "Lady Malfoy, the Lord of House Potter gives you greetings on this most auspicious Yule and hopes your family's fortune continues to grow and your enemies cower before your feet."
Mother actually cracked a smile. "My, you do have him well trained, don't you?"
Father's face twitched and were they not in front of dozens, if not hundreds of witnesses, he probably would have made some move to attack him. "Narcissa, we have talked about this. Potter is not a suitable match for our heir…"
"We have talked about this in private, Lucius," Mother snapped. "And I insist, for the honor of the family, that continued discussion regarding this matter also occur privately."
Father's grip tightened on his cane. "Very well. Draco, you will follow me to a private setting."
Draco gulped. If he ended up in a room alone with Father, he was a dead man walking. "The Ball begins soon, father. Harry and I are supposed to be opening it. Perhaps tomorrow…"
"No, your father is quite right," Mother said abruptly and then, for the briefest fraction of a second, cast a wink in his direction, which went unnoticed by Father. "This is a family matter that must be discussed, privately, among the three of us."
Father swooped out of the entrance hall and started walking purposefully towards the dungeons. "I will not let anything happen to him, Harry," Mother vowed.
"It's okay, Harry," Draco said. Harry looked very skeptical. "Mother is going to keep me safe."
"If you're not back by the time the ball starts, I'm coming after you," Harry vowed.
Draco gave Harry a passionate kiss that just barely avoided being classified as indifference. As he had planned, this distracted and disoriented Harry for long enough for Draco and Mother to make a quick exit. Draco felt a lot better knowing Harry would rush in if worst came to worst, but he also felt good knowing Harry wasn't going to be there at first, because his presence would only complicate things and provoke Father.
"You will cease this unnatural and degenerate relationship immediately," Father began without preamble once they'd joined him in an empty classroom in the dungeons. "The Malfoy family will not be saddled with a…with a poof as its heir!"
Draco closed his eyes briefly, readying himself to say the one thing he'd never had the courage to say to his father before. "No."
Father smacked him across the face without a single instance of hesitation. Draco let out a gasp of shock. Father had never hit him before. Whenever he had wanted to use physical violence before, it was always Dobby who had received the blows. Father knew Draco's friendship with the elf meant they would hurt him infinitely more than if they were delivered to his own person. "I am your father, and you will obey me! I am the Lord of the Malfoy dynasty!"
"You're a coward and a moron!" Draco screamed at him. "You followed a man who tried to kill a baby, and then lost to that baby! And then lost to him again as a child! Twice! Harry has the potential to be far more powerful than the Dark Lord will ever be, and my union for him is what is best for the family! And what's more, I love him!"
"So it's come down to this then," Father practically hissed. "You stand here with a choice to make, Draco. You can choose me or that disgusting son of a mudblood. Choose now."
"I choose Harry," Draco said instantly. "I will always choose Harry, and you can go screw yourself!" Draco felt a burst of vindictive pleasure using such vulgar language. But it was fitting. Father had always been a vulgar man. No class or sophistication whatsoever. He was just a thug pretending to be a noble.
Father drew his wand, his face incandescent with rage. "CR –"
"Imperio," Mother said very calmly, and Father's face went slack as he just stood there, blindly waiting for orders. As was, it was likely, his default state deep down. She sighed. "I am sorry it had to come down to this, Draco." She truly did sound genuinely sorry. "I never really loved him, but there was a time I at least had a modicum of respect for him."
She stroked Draco's face gently. "You deserve better. And I intend to give it to you." She kissed him on the forehead. "Now go and enjoy the Ball, dear. Tell anyone who asks that your father is ill. Have a lovely evening. Don't let this unpleasantness get you down. Tomorrow, you'll be enjoying a beautiful beach with your darling boyfriend."
"What are you going to do to him?"
Mother smirked. Draco was very glad he was not her enemy at that moment. "I think I'll keep that to myself. It's nothing personal, Draco. I just don't want you to be burdened by this knowledge. I'm not going to kill him. Not yet." She looked Father with an insane light in her eyes that was no doubt not unlike that of her sister. "Not when he can be of so much use to me…"
Draco impulsively hugged his mother. It was not something they did often, though it was by no means unheard of. Mother was not a particularly touchy feely person. She liked to save her affection to earned moments. "I love you, Mother."
"I love you too, Draco," Mother said. "Do give your boyfriend my regards. He looks quite fetching tonight. Were he ten years older…" Draco blushed ferociously as Mother gave a laugh.
Harry practically pounced on Draco in relief when he returned to the entrance hall. "Everything's fine, Harry," Draco promised, well aware people were probably listening in. "Father was taken ill, so Mother took him back to the estate. Nothing to worry about."
Harry nodded once, curtly. "Was he okay with us?"
"He reacted as expected," Draco said evasively. "I'm safe and uninjured," he added in the quietest tone he could and still be heard by Harry. "And I'd like to move on."
"Sounds like a plan," Harry said with a sudden dazzling grin.
Draco waited anxiously for the bloody ball to begin. A distraction quickly emerged in the form of Hermione, who had prettied herself up to an almost astounding degree. Ron only stopped staring at her when Daphne stepped on his foot, hard. An astoundingly awkward silence ensued.
"You look very nice, Hermione," Harry said politely. Draco felt very smug that he had not succumbed to the spell Hermione had placed on most of the boys (and a few of the girls) in the room. Harry had told Draco multiple times that he only saw Hermione in a sisterly light and always would. Which was a bit odd considering he had been known to have a crush on Ron and Draco wasn't sure what the difference was, but no one knew better than Draco the heart was an odd beast at the best of times.
Hermione gave a delighted grin. "Thank you, Harry. I expect we're all going to have some very happy memories of tonight's event." Draco gulped at the reminder that this wasn't going to be just a social occasion. This was the moment Dumbledore might go down and the whole evening might devolve into a fight with a terrifyingly powerful sorcerer who had no compunctions about brainwashing people at the drop of a hat.
Mercifully, Professor McGonagall led everyone into the Great Hall not too long after that. Draco's fear must have shown on his face, because Harry squeezed his hand tightly. Under normal circumstances, Draco would have immediately composed himself, but, come on, who would deny himself a chance to hold Harry's hand?
Harry's eyes widened in horror as he saw that Weasley boy, the prefect…Patrick or whatever his name was…sitting at the judges' table, right next to Dumbledore. Draco really hoped Dumbledore wasn't going to end up taking Weasley hostage, because he could definitely see his boyfriend leaping into action in some stupid way that would get them all killed if that happened.
To make matters even worse, the champions and their dates were expected to sit at the judges' table alongside them. So some random Ravenclaw, Millicent, Chang, and Draco all joined the champions aside the man who was potentially the greatest Dark Lord since Voldemort. How positively lovely.
Draco had to admit Harry had some serious acting chops when he put his mind to it. Probably from all those years living with those odious Muggles. If one was to look at him, one would never know he hated Dumbledore with the passion of a thousand burning suns. Dumbledore appeared to be completely taken in as he chattered away with the heads of the other schools, the perfect image of an amiable old man. It made Draco's blood boil, but he followed Harry's example and made pleasant conversation.
Just when Draco was worrying the Aurors would never show up, the doors to the Great Hall slammed open and a coldly furious Amelia Bones charged into the room, flanked by twenty Aurors, all of whom looked even angrier than Bones. "My, that is a lot of Aurors you've brought," Dumbledore called out, his voice jolly and chipper. Draco was looking forward to that smirk being wiped off his face. "Hardly a skeleton crew if I do say so," he added with a snicker at his awful pun.
"I would arrest you for that alone if I could," Bones snarled. "Albus Dumbledore, you are under arrest for numerous counts of child abuse; illegal mental manipulation; conspiracy to commit the murders of Lily and James Potter; and the murder of Vernon, Petunia, and Dudley Dursley, among many, many other charges.
Dumbledore looked shocked, but it was all an act. He had an ace up his sleeve somehow. "Quite the motley array of charges. All baseless, I assure you." He placed his wand coolly on the table. "I, of course, deny everything and look forward to proving my innocence before my peers."
"Cuff him," Bones snarled. The Aurors placed Dumbledore in specialized magic suppressing handcuffs. Draco expected him to fight, but Dumbledore didn't resist in the slightest. He was no doubt expecting his political influence to be able to save him. Draco desperately hoped he wasn't right. "You think you're so smug now, but we have, in your own words, proof of a staggering campaign of malfeasance towards Lord Potter. We have your journals, Dumbledore."
Dumbledore's eyes widened theatrically. He was still acting, and Draco had a sudden, terrifying feeling he had missed something very important as the old man's eyes twinkled brightly. "I'm sure you've misunderstood…"
"No, I rather think your confessions of having committed multiple murders and deliberately allowed a troll and a possessed teacher into this school are crystal clear," Bones retorted.
Dumbledore gave her a pitying smile. "My dear girl, sometimes sacrifices need to be made for the greater good. And all turned out well in the end, did it not?" He looked over at Harry, clearly expecting him to back him up. "Harry, I know my methodology may seem extreme at times, but all I've done has been to ready you to face Lord Voldemort when the time comes. He will rise again. It is preordained."
Harry looked at him with pure, naked hatred dancing in his eyes. Draco expected Dumbledore to falter, but he did not. "You ruined my life. You got my parents killed. You set me up to be abused."
"Everything I have done has been for the greater good," Dumbledore pontificated.
"You're a cruel, heartless murderer," Harry shot back. "At least when Voldemort killed my parents he didn't pretend he was doing it for their own good. I will never trust you again and when the people read your journals, neither will they."
Dumbledore stood up and scowled. "I would have gotten away with it too if it weren't for you meddling kids!" He raised his shackled hands into the air. "Fawkes, I summon thee forth!" There was dead silence. No phoenix appeared. "Fiddlesticks."
The Aurors started dragging him out of the room. "I really don't know what you thought you were trying to accomplish, Dumbledore," Bones said quietly but harshly. "All these manipulations, the murders, the overly convoluted schemes…and that's not even getting into what you've done with the wards…"
Dumbledore suddenly stopped in his tracks, looking genuinely frightened for the first time. "Wards?"
"Yes, Dumbledore," Bones said, a grin on her face at finally getting a panicked reaction out of Dumbledore. "We know about you using the wards to power a spell. The nature of the spell remains unknown as of yet, but we're confident that –"
In a flash of light, the handcuffs vanished from Dumbledore's hands. There was naked homicidal fury in his blindingly twinkling blue eyes. "This could have been so easy on all of you," he snarled in an accent quite unlike his usual one. "We could have had this over with quietly, quickly, and simply. But now you're going to have to force me to do things the hard way."
He summoned his wand and froze everyone in place. With a single spell, he transfigured Bones into a porcelain copy of herself and then blasted her with a spell that caused her to shatter. He methodically hit the Aurors with Killing Curses one by one, snarling animalistically as he did so. Draco could do nothing but watch.
Dumbledore stood in the center of the room, a cruel glint in his eyes as he looked upon his works, and then he suddenly convulsed. The cruel look vanished, as did the twinkling, as he sank to his knees. The wand dropped out of his hand. "Harry…" he called out in the voice Draco was accustomed to him using, his voice sounding rusty and creaky. "I…I'm sorry…"
Then the twinkling was back and Dumbledore summoned his wand back to his hand, his face resolute if furious. He walked over to the table, looking contemplative, and then he moved the still immobile Karkaroff into the center of the room. With an almost whimsical movement of his wand, Dumbledore cast a piercing spell into the back of Karkaroff's head, killing him instantly.
Then he waved his wand around the room and everything suddenly went dark. Draco's last thought was wondering what version of tonight he'd remember tomorrow.
Minerva McGonagall stared in horror and utter bafflement at the scene before her as the smog finally cleared from her brain. The last thing she clearly remembered was arguing with Albus about sending more letters to Harry Potter after he ignored his last letter. From there, she'd gone through life in a haze, not unlike what one experienced as a victim of the Imperius Curse. With utter horror, she remembered some of the things she'd been forced to do while as a barely aware passenger in her own body. She'd been forced to turn a blind eye to injustice, abuse, murder attempts, and so much more. She'd blithely sat back and acted like nothing was happening when Molly Weasley abused her daughter on a daily basis with those infernal Howlers.
According to the people she talked to in the room that was supposed to be a celebration but was now a bloody crime scene, the Aurors had pretended to be there to arrest Albus for a variety of crimes Minerva would have been certain up until several minutes ago he was completely incapable of. However, it was only a ruse to lure their real target, Durmstrang headmaster Igor Karkaroff, into a false sense of security. It was Karkaroff who had framed Albus for heinous acts, forged incriminating journals, and then, when his scheme was exposed, killed the entire Auror team before being heroically downed by the very man who he tried to frame.
Minerva didn't believe it for an instant. She knew the truth now. Whatever spell Albus had used to enthrall everyone in the room must have somehow interacted negatively with the spell used to enthrall her, releasing her. No. Not Albus. It couldn't have been Albus. Albus wouldn't have done that to her. It was someone else. Someone pretending to be him. It had to be. Her old friend wouldn't violate her in such a manner. It just wasn't possible.
Perhaps a true Gryffindor would have charged forward and confronted the imposter right there and then, but Minerva knew she had only escaped due to the barest quirk of fate. She was no match for the man who had taken down a squadron of trained Aurors along with Madam Bones herself. She didn't know what she was going to do next, but she knew if she stayed at Hogwarts, her life was forfeit. She wasn't a good enough actress to pretend to be the parody of her who had hurt so many students through both action and inaction.
So she slipped away and went to her quarters. After packing up everything she thought she would need, she hurried over to her Floo. But it wouldn't activate. The door to her room suddenly opened and the imposter walked into the room, his face a perfect facsimile of genial kindness. Minerva knew better by now. She only knew she had known better before.
"Going somewhere, Minerva?" the imposter said, smugness all over his voice.
Minerva was not a Slytherin. She did not have any skill at guile. She didn't make an effort to pretend everything was all right when both of them knew it was not. "I know you're not Albus Dumbledore," she said baldly. "You're impersonating him…"
"Possessing him, actually," the imposter said, sounding almost chipper.
"And everyone else will soon know too," Minerva said desperately. "They'll stop you and…and…"
The imposter gave a huge smile. "And what will happen, Minerva? Will I die…just a little?"
A chill went down Minerva's spine. That voice! Those words! The very same enigmatic words she remembered reading in Newt Scamander's autobiography. It wasn't possible! It couldn't be! He was supposed to be locked up! How could she have been so stupid? "You're…you're…"
"Who am I, Kätzchen? Say my name."
Minerva closed her eyes, knowing she was about to die. "You're Gellert Grindelwald."
The most evil Dark Lord to ever live, the sadistic monster whose villainy exceeded even Voldemort, gave a satanic grin, and then wordlessly and wandlessly snapped Minerva's spine.