Chapter 76 (Patreon)

The castle echoed with controlled chaos as McGonagall ran the alliance through practical exercises. Students moved between assigned zones, testing communication systems and running evacuation routes under the guise of "advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts training" that wouldn't alarm the general student population. They had one day left, one day to drill, to test, to find the gaps before Thursday dawn found them first.

Mulciber navigated the third-floor corridor alone, carrying a stack of dummy medical supplies to the Astronomy Tower zone as part of the drill. His reformed status was still fragile, a secret kept from most of Slytherin house, where his former associates assumed he was simply laying low after the vessel incident.

"Well, well. If it isn't the prodigal Death Eater."

Mulciber froze. Evan Rosier emerged from an alcove, wand drawn but held casually at his side. Behind him, Wilkes and two other sixth-year Slytherins blocked the corridor, Travers and Jugson.

"Lost your way to the dungeon?" Mulciber kept his voice flat, face impassive, though his pulse thundered in his ears. The supplies in his arms suddenly felt like incriminating evidence.

Wilkes circled to Mulciber's left, cutting off escape routes. "We've been watching you. Saw you talking with that Mudblood Evans yesterday. Looking rather friendly for someone who used to understand blood purity."

"I'm gathering intelligence, " Mulciber said, slipping back into old patterns with disturbing ease. "Know your enemy, isn't that what they teach us?"

Rosier's cold smile didn't reach his eyes. "Funny thing about intelligence, it works both ways. We've noticed Snape's little network forming. Quite the collection of blood traitors and filth he's assembled." He stepped closer, examining the supplies in Mulciber's arms. "And now here you are, running errands like a house-elf."

"What do you want, Rosier?" Mulciber asked, careful to inject just the right amount of boredom and irritation into his voice.

"Proof." Rosier's tone hardened. "Proof of where you stand."

Travers snickered. "If you're playing both sides, that's a dangerous game."

"I serve the Dark Lord, " Mulciber said automatically, hating how natural the words felt on his tongue.

"Words are wind, " Wilkes replied. "Actions matter."

Rosier leaned against the wall, studying Mulciber with predatory intensity. "That Mudblood MacDonald has been organising medical supplies to the defensive positions."

Mulciber's stomach dropped. "And?"

"Hurt her." Rosier's voice was almost gentle, which made it worse. "Nothing permanent. But enough to prove where your loyalties lie."

"You want me to attack a student in Hogwarts? During daylight? With professors around?" Mulciber scoffed, buying time while his mind raced. "That's not loyalty, that's stupidity."

Jugson stepped forward, eyes narrowed. "Use something painful but not permanently damaging. Stinging hexes, maybe a tripping jinx down the stairs. Make it look accidental but hurt enough that she knows it wasn't."

"Consider it a test, " Rosier said. "We're watching. And we'll know if you warn her."

"The Dark Lord rewards loyalty, " Wilkes added. "But betrayal... well, you've seen what happens to those who choose the wrong side."

Mulciber's face remained impassive while his thoughts spiralled. This was the moment he'd feared, forced to choose between his cover and his newfound conscience. Mary MacDonald was part of the alliance, one of the few who'd trusted his change was genuine. And now they wanted him to hurt her, to mark himself with cruelty all over again.

"Fine, " he said, letting annoyance coat his words. "I'll handle it tonight. After dinner, when she's heading back to Gryffindor Tower."

Rosier's eyes narrowed. "Why wait?"

"Because I'm not an idiot, " Mulciber snapped. "She's with friends now. Tonight she'll be alone. Unless you want multiple witnesses?"

A long, tense moment passed before Rosier nodded. "Tonight. And we'll be watching, so make it convincing."

"After you've proven yourself, " Wilkes added, "we'll tell you what the Dark Lord has planned for tomorrow. Plans that Snape can't possibly counter."

They let him pass, but Mulciber felt their eyes boring into his back as he walked away, medical supplies clutched to his chest like a shield. His mind raced through impossible options. Warn Mary and expose himself as a traitor. Attack her and become the monster he was trying to leave behind. Create a convincing fake assault that would satisfy Rosier without causing real harm.

Each choice came with devastating consequences. If he refused, they'd know immediately where his loyalties lay, and the entire defensive strategy would be compromised. If he attacked her, he'd destroy the fragile trust he'd built with the alliance. If he tried to fake it and Rosier saw through the deception,

He ducked into an empty classroom, set down the supplies, and pressed his forehead against the cool stone wall. Three months ago, he would have done it without hesitation. Would have enjoyed it, even. The ease with which he could still imagine it disgusted him.

What would Snape do? Probably something coldly pragmatic that protected the mission while minimising harm. But Mulciber wasn't Snape. He didn't have the ice in his veins, the ability to calculate with perfect detachment.

He had eight hours to decide which version of himself would win, the Death Eater he'd been, or the person he was trying to become.

"Merlin help me, " he whispered to the empty classroom. But Merlin didn't answer, and the clock kept ticking toward nightfall.

Mulciber burst through the door of the Room of Requirement without bothering to knock, startling Severus, Lily, and Regulus who'd been reviewing potion formulations. His face was pale, jaw clenched tight, and his hands shook slightly as he sealed the door behind him with more force than necessary.

"We have a problem, " he said without preamble.

Severus was on his feet instantly, wand drawn. "What kind of problem?"

"The kind where Rosier and his Death Eater fan club just cornered me and demanded I prove my loyalty by cursing Mary Macdonald tonight."

The room went deadly silent. Lily's quill froze mid-stroke. Regulus's eyes widened with alarm.

"Explain, " Severus commanded, his voice cold and controlled. "Everything. Don't leave out details."

Mulciber leaned against the door, running a hand through his hair. "I was taking supplies to the Astronomy Tower for the drill. Rosier, Wilkes, Travers, and Jugson surrounded me in the third-floor corridor. They've been watching us, they know about the network, or at least suspect. They ordered me to attack Mary tonight to prove where my loyalty lies."

Lily stood slowly. "Attack her how?"

"Nothing permanent, " Mulciber said bitterly. "Just painful enough that she knows it wasn't an accident. Stinging hexes, maybe a trip down the stairs, their words, not mine."

Severus's expression remained unchanged, but his eyes hardened to obsidian. "And if you refuse?"

"Then I'm exposed as a traitor, and they'll know exactly where I stand. Our entire defensive strategy could be compromised before dawn Thursday."

"And if you warn Mary?" Regulus asked quietly.

"They said they'd be watching. If I warn her, same result."

Severus began pacing, his movements economical and precise. "They're testing their suspicions. If you refuse, they confirm you've switched sides. If you go through with it, they strengthen their hold over you."

"I told them I'd do it tonight after dinner, " Mulciber said, disgust evident in his voice. "Bought myself a few hours to figure something out."

"What did they say about tomorrow?" Severus stopped pacing abruptly.

Mulciber blinked. "How did you, "

"What. Did. They. Say."

"That after I'd proven myself, they'd tell me what the Dark Lord has planned for tomorrow. That you can't possibly counter it."

Severus and Lily exchanged a significant look.

"They know about the attack, " Lily murmured. "Or at least that it's imminent."

"And they're ensuring potential threats are neutralised beforehand, " Regulus added.

Mulciber pushed away from the door, his frustration evident. "That doesn't solve my immediate problem. What do I do about Mary?"

Severus resumed pacing, his mind visibly calculating possibilities. "You have three options. One, you refuse and expose yourself, compromising our entire defence. Two, you go through with it, maintaining your cover at the cost of Mary's safety and your conscience. Three, we create a convincing deception that satisfies Rosier without actually harming Mary."

"I'm not attacking her, " Mulciber said firmly. "I'm done being that person."

"Then we deceive them, " Severus decided. "We'll need to speak with Mary, get her cooperation. Stage an incident convincing enough to fool Rosier but controlled enough to prevent actual harm."

"And if she refuses?" Lily asked quietly.

Severus's expression turned grim. "Then we lose Mulciber as an asset, and potentially our ability to know what they know before tomorrow morning."

The brutality of his assessment hung in the air. Lily stared at him, green eyes flashing.

"This is Mary we're talking about. My friend. We're not treating her safety as a variable to be optimised."

"We're talking about everyone's safety, " Severus countered. "If our defence fails because Rosier exposes Mulciber tonight, how many students could be hurt or killed in the attack? Sometimes protecting the many requires difficult choices about the few."

Regulus cleared his throat. "What if we used a modified Confundus Charm? Something that would make Mary appear injured without causing actual pain?"

"Rosier would see through that, " Severus replied. "It needs to be real enough to convince observers who are specifically looking for deception."

"We could prepare Mary ahead of time, " Mulciber suggested hesitantly. "Warn her what's coming, have her take a pain suppressor potion beforehand, let me cast something flashy but controlled." He stopped, straightening. "This is on me. I'll talk to her, explain the situation, and accept whatever decision she makes."

"No, " Lily said suddenly, drawing everyone's attention. "I'll talk to her. Mary and I are close, she'll receive this better from me." She looked at Mulciber. "No offence."

"None taken, " Mulciber said quietly. "What will you tell her?"

Lily's expression became calculating in a way that reminded them she was as much Severus's partner in strategy as in potions. "The truth. That Rosier is suspicious, that your cover is critical to what happens tomorrow morning, and that we need to stage something convincing tonight. I'll also tell her she has complete authority to refuse, and we'll find another solution if she does."

"What other solution?" Regulus asked.

"Metamorphmagus Mimicry Potion, " Lily said. "It only lasts thirty minutes, but that would be enough. I'd take her place."

"Absolutely not, " Severus Snape snapped, all pretense of detachment vanishing. "If anything went wrong, "

"This is my choice, " Lily interrupted. "I won't ask Mary to do something I wouldn't do myself. If she refuses, and she has every right to, then I take her place. That's the contingency."

Severus's jaw clenched, the muscle ticking visibly. "And if I refuse to allow it?"

Lily's eyebrow arched. "Allow it? I wasn't aware I needed your permission."

Regulus cleared his throat very deliberately.

"We're not breaking apart over this, " Lily said, her voice dropping, the flash of anger giving way to something quieter. "We're just... feeling what this costs. That's different." She looked at Severus steadily. "Trust me to handle the conversation with Mary. And trust her to know her own mind."

Severus held her gaze for a long moment. Then the set of his shoulders changed, not much, but enough. "Go."

Lily gathered her notes and left. After a moment, Mulciber sat down heavily on one of the benches. Regulus stood by the window. Severus returned to the workbench and stared at the potion notes without reading them.

"She'll say yes, " Regulus said quietly.

"I know, " Severus replied. "That's what I'm afraid of."

Mary Macdonald looked up from her Charms essay as Lily slid into the seat across from her in the library, immediately sensing something wrong. Lily's expression was carefully neutral, but Mary had known her long enough to read the tension in her shoulders, the tightness around her eyes.

"What happened?" Mary asked, setting down her quill.

"We need to talk. Privately. Can you come with me?"

Mary followed without question. They wound through rows of ancient tomes until they reached a secluded alcove far from curious ears. Lily cast a quick Muffliato charm.

"You're scaring me, Lils, " Mary said, trying for lightness that didn't quite land.

Lily took a breath, then delivered the situation with clinical precision: Rosier's confrontation with Mulciber, the demand for proof of loyalty, the staged attack planned for tonight, and the impossible position everyone was now in.

Mary listened without interrupting, her expression shifting from confusion to disbelief to something harder.

"So, " Mary said when Lily finished, "they want Mulciber to hurt me to prove he's still one of them."

"Yes."

"And if he doesn't, our entire defence for the attack tomorrow is compromised."

"Yes."

Mary leaned against the stone wall, arms crossed. "And you're telling me this because...?"

"Because I won't make this decision for you, " Lily said firmly. "If you refuse, which you have every right to do, I'll take the Mimicry Potion and stand in for you."

"Of course you will, " Mary said with a brittle laugh. "Saint Lily, always ready to sacrifice herself."

"That's not fair."

"None of this is fair." Mary pushed off from the wall and began pacing. "So I get to choose between being hexed or potentially having you hurt instead?"

"It wouldn't be a severe hex, " Lily hastened to add. "Something controlled, something that looks worse than it is. And you'd take pain suppression potion beforehand."

"Oh, well that makes it all better then, " Mary said. But the sarcasm faded almost as quickly as it came. She stopped pacing abruptly and looked at the window.

"I'm Muggleborn, " she said, her voice quieter now, more measured. "Do you know what that means in this war, Lily?"

"Of course I, "

"No. Let me finish." Mary's voice was quiet but intense. "Every day I wake up knowing that if Voldemort wins, I die. Or worse. Every Muggleborn student in this school faces that reality. And I've been running medical supply routes and organizing evacuation drills for younger students because those things matter, but sometimes I wonder if I'm useful or just..." She paused. "Adjacent. Present at the edge of something I can't fully touch."

Lily was very still.

"If I agree to this, " Mary continued, "it's not because I have no choice. It's because I do have one, and I know what it means to make it. Mulciber refused to attack me when he could have just done it and kept his cover. He came to you instead." She turned back from the window. "That's the kind of person I'm doing this for. That matters."

"Mary, "

"I'll do it." She said it plainly, without drama. "But I want conditions."

Lily exhaled slowly. "Name them."

"First, the strongest pain suppression potion you have. Second, Mulciber tells me exactly what he's going to cast beforehand so I can prepare. Third, you and James close enough to intervene, but not so close that Rosier spots you."

Lily nodded, noting each condition.

"And fourth, " Mary added, her voice dropping, "when this is over, when we've survived Thursday, I want to be involved in the post-attack documentation. Not just medical. The full account of what happened and how. I've been recording things in my notebook since the ritual. I want that to mean something."

"Done, " Lily agreed without hesitation. "Every word of it."

Mary exhaled slowly. "I have a few hours to prepare myself to be hexed by someone I've spent years hating." She laughed shakily. "Funny how life works out."

"I'm so sorry, Mary, " Lily said, her eyes bright with unshed tears. "I wish, "

"Don't, " Mary interrupted gently. "We're past wishing. Now we just do what needs to be done." She gathered her books, her movements precise and deliberate. "I need some time alone before tonight. I'll meet you at the Room of Requirement in an hour to go over the details."

Lily watched her friend walk away, straight-backed and resolute, disappearing into the library stacks.

She said yes, Lily sent through the bond with Severus. She felt his satisfaction mixed with something that was almost regret, tactical relief overshadowed by moral discomfort.

I hate this, she added.

I know, Severus responded. So do I. But we do it anyway.

Lily wiped her eyes, straightened her robes, and prepared to return to the others. In a few hours, they'd stage an attack on their own ally. Tomorrow at dawn, they'd face real attacks from real enemies. And somehow, they had to survive both while keeping their souls intact.

She wasn't sure that was possible anymore. But she'd try anyway.

Mary walked the familiar route from dinner toward the library with forced casualness, her heart hammering against her ribs despite the pain-dulling potion warming her bloodstream. The corridor was quiet, most students were still at dinner or settling into common rooms, but she could sense eyes watching from alcoves and doorways.

Witnesses. As planned.

The potion made her limbs feel slightly distant, as if she were piloting her body from somewhere removed. Regulus had explained this would help, physical reactions would remain authentic while emotional response stayed manageable.

"Well, well. Out for an evening stroll, Mudblood?"

Mary turned to see Mulciber emerge from behind a statue, wand drawn. Then she saw his eyes. Cold on the surface, but underneath, apology, determination, and soul-deep disgust at what he was about to do.

She didn't have to fake the slight tremble in her voice. "What do you want, Mulciber?"

"To remind you of your place." He flicked his wand almost lazily. "Vespertilio Mucus!"

The Bat-Bogey Hex struck her squarely in the face. Mary cried out as the unpleasant sensation overwhelmed her, painful and humiliating, exactly as they had planned. Dark, bat-shaped mucus erupted from her nostrils, flapping wildly around her face. Though the pain suppressor dulled the physical discomfort, she couldn't suppress her genuine disgust.

"That's for associating with blood traitors, " Mulciber sneered, and the cold enjoyment in his voice was so convincing that Mary felt genuine fear spike through her artificial calm.

"Locomotor Mortis!"

The leg-locking curse hit next, and Mary fell hard, her books scattering across the stone floor. The pain-dulling potion kept the worst of the impact from registering, but she still felt the jarring shock of knee against stone.

"Please, " she gasped, trying to reach for her wand but finding her legs uselessly locked. "Please stop."

"Stop?" Mulciber laughed, cold and cruel. "I've barely started."

From the shadows, she caught a glimpse of movement, Rosier and Wilkes watching from an alcove, their expressions hungry and approving. This wasn't just for them, she realised. This was performance art for Death Eaters.

"Aguamenti Frigus!" A jet of ice-cold water soaked her completely. The sudden shock made Mary gasp despite the potion's dulling effect. Cold water dripped from her hair, down her face, beneath her robes.

Mulciber circled her slowly, his wand held casually. "I've been watching you organise your little medical supplies, MacDonald. Playing nurse for blood traitors?"

He knew exactly what to say, things that would sound damning to Rosier while actually confirming information the alliance already knew was compromised.

Mary tried to reach for her fallen wand, fingers stretching desperately across the stone floor. Mulciber stepped on her hand, not crushing, but firm enough to trap her.

"Did you really think we wouldn't notice?" His voice dropped lower. "Did you think we'd just ignore your pathetic little resistance?"

In the shadows, Rosier nodded appreciatively, eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

Mary was supposed to beg now. They'd rehearsed this, pleading would give Mulciber an excuse to stop. But something shifted in her. This performance needed authenticity, and submissive begging wasn't authentic to who she was.

Instead, she met his eyes with defiant fury.

"Is this supposed to scare me, Mulciber?" Her voice was low but steady. "You think your schoolyard bullying compares to what's coming? I'm not afraid of you."

Mulciber's eyes widened fractionally, this wasn't the script. But he adapted instantly, his face hardening with manufactured rage.

"You should be afraid, MacDonald." He raised his wand higher. "Flipendo Maxima!"

The enhanced knockback jinx was stronger than they'd practised. It lifted Mary off the floor and hurled her back against the wall. Even with the pain suppressor, she felt the impact reverberate through her body, knocking the breath from her lungs. She slid down the wall, genuinely struggling to inhale.

Too far. He'd gone too far.

She saw it in his eyes too, shock at his own force, horror at how easily the old patterns returned.

For a moment, the performance became terribly real. Mary tasted blood where she'd bitten her lip on impact. Her vision swam slightly. The bat bogies still flapped frantically around her face, adding humiliation to genuine pain.

Mulciber stepped closer, wand still raised. His eyes flickered toward the alcove where Rosier watched, then back to Mary. She could see the internal struggle, he needed to finish this convincingly but didn't want to cause more actual harm.

Mary made the decision for him. She curled into herself, shoulders shaking in what appeared to be sobs but actually concealed her reaching for the small vial in her pocket. She popped the cork with her thumb and, while ostensibly covering her face, emptied the contents onto her sleeve.

"Look at you, " Mulciber said, voice thick with manufactured contempt. "Pathetic."

"Flagrante!" The mild burning hex hit her already-soaked robes, creating an instant cloud of steam and a sizzling sound far more dramatic than the actual sensation.

Mary screamed, partly from the mild sting that penetrated even the pain suppressor, but mostly for effect. She thrashed dramatically, the movement spreading the clear liquid from the vial across her face and neck.

Within seconds, her skin erupted in spectacular boils and welts, harmless Bulbadox Powder mixed with Transient Reactive Solution that would fade in exactly thirty minutes but looked horrific.

Several portraits gasped. Down the corridor, a group of third-years appeared, saw the scene, and fled in terror.

"Think about where your loyalties should lie, MacDonald, " Mulciber sneered, lowering his wand at last. "Next time I won't be so gentle."

He turned and walked away, his robes billowing behind him. From the shadows, Rosier and Wilkes emerged, nodding approvingly before following Mulciber down the corridor.

Mary remained slumped against the wall, legs still locked, face plagued by bat bogies, skin erupting in spectacular boils, soaked and shivering. The performance had become more real than intended, but it had worked.

She waited until the footsteps faded before whispering, "Lily? James?"

They appeared instantly, Disillusionment Charms dropping. Lily rushed to her side, wand already moving to counter the hexes.

"I'm so sorry, " she whispered, removing the leg-locker curse first. "That went too far."

"The knockback jinx was stronger than we practised, " James said grimly, helping Mary sit up while Lily dealt with the bat bogies. "Are you alright? That looked like it really hurt."

"It did, " Mary admitted, wincing. "But it worked. Did you see Rosier's face? He completely bought it."

Lily worked methodically, removing each hex and casting diagnostic charms. "Two bruised ribs from the impact. That's not what we agreed to."

"My fault, " Mary said, grimacing as she tried to stand. "I went off-script. Said something defiant instead of begging. He had to respond more forcefully or it wouldn't have been believable."

James supported her weight. "We should get you to Madam Pomfrey."

Mary hesitated. Her instinct was to refuse, but the bruised ribs made every breath a small negotiation with pain, and in less than twelve hours they'd need everyone functioning properly. "All right. But only for tonight. I want to be back for the drills first thing tomorrow."

"I'll take you, " James said. "Lily, tell the others she's being seen to. If Rosier has anyone watching the hospital wing, a genuine visit for genuine injuries is actually better cover than nothing."

Lily nodded, acknowledging the logic even as she hated it. She took Mary's free hand for a moment. "Rest. That's an order from your medic."

Mary managed a small laugh that turned quickly into a wince. "One condition, Mulciber comes to see me tomorrow. Not to apologise. Just so I can see that he's all right too."

"He will be, " Lily promised.

They walked in silence for a moment before Mary spoke again, her voice smaller. "I felt it, you know. When he was hexing me. That wasn't all acting on his part."

"What do you mean?" James asked.

"There was a moment, when I defied him, where something old woke up in him. Like muscle memory. The person he used to be came back just for a second." Mary shivered. "It was terrifying."

James and Lily exchanged troubled glances over her head.

"That's what we're all afraid of, " James said softly. "That when tomorrow comes, we'll all discover who we really are under pressure. And we might not like what we find."

They continued in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Mary's mind kept replaying that moment when Mulciber's eyes had changed, when the performance became briefly, horrifyingly real. The line between acting and authenticity had blurred, just for an instant.

And tomorrow at dawn, there would be no acting at all.

The next morning, Mulciber sat alone at breakfast, methodically spreading marmalade across his toast while studiously avoiding eye contact with the Gryffindor table. Word of his attack on Mary MacDonald had spread through the castle with typical Hogwarts efficiency. Students from other houses shot him venomous glares while his fellow Slytherins regarded him with newfound respect.

Precisely as planned.

Rosier slid onto the bench beside him, a rare smile playing across his aristocratic features. "Well done, " he murmured, helping himself to porridge. "Quite the performance last night."

"It wasn't a performance, " Mulciber replied, keeping his voice flat and disinterested.

"Of course not, " Rosier agreed, eyes glinting. "The Mudblood needed reminding of her place. I particularly enjoyed the steam when you hit her with that Flagrante. Creative touch."

Mulciber forced himself to smirk. "I thought so."

Wilkes joined them, leaning across the table. "MacDonald was taken to the hospital wing last night, apparently. Looks like you made quite the impression."

"She'll think twice before organising medical supplies for blood traitors again, " Mulciber said, taking a deliberate bite of his toast.

The conversation halted abruptly as Professor McGonagall approached the Slytherin table, her face severe as winter. "Mr. Mulciber, " she said, voice carrying just far enough for neighbouring students to hear. "The Headmaster wishes to see you immediately."

Mulciber affected a look of bored defiance, though his stomach tightened. This wasn't part of the plan. "What for?"

"I believe you know exactly 'what for, '" McGonagall replied, her Scottish brogue more pronounced in anger. "Mr. Snape, you will accompany us as well."

At the far end of the table, Severus looked up with perfectly feigned surprise. He rose smoothly, his face unreadable, and joined them.

"I'm sure this is all a misunderstanding, " Rosier offered smoothly. "Mulciber was merely defending himself after MacDonald provoked him."

McGonagall's nostrils flared. "I don't recall asking for your version of events, Mr. Rosier." She gestured sharply toward the exit. "Come along."

As they followed McGonagall from the Great Hall, Mulciber caught Rosier's encouraging nod. Good. The Death Eater faction believed this was all part of the expected aftermath, Dumbledore's predictable response to student violence, nothing more.

None of them had discussed this possibility with Dumbledore or McGonagall.

"Did you know about this?" Mulciber whispered to Severus as they climbed the stairs.

"No, " Severus replied under his breath. "But we should have anticipated it. There was no way Dumbledore wouldn't have heard about last night."

McGonagall remained silent, her back rigid with disapproval. When they reached the gargoyle, she spoke the password, "Peppermint Toad", with sharp precision.

The Headmaster's office was bathed in morning light when they entered. Dumbledore sat behind his desk, blue eyes serious behind half-moon spectacles. Fawkes watched from his perch, unnervingly attentive.

"Ah, Mr. Mulciber, " Dumbledore said, voice deceptively mild. "Please sit down. Mr. Snape, you may stand by your housemate as his companion."

Mulciber sank into the chair, mentally calculating his approach. If this was a genuine disciplinary meeting, he needed to maintain his cover as an unrepentant Death Eater sympathiser. If Dumbledore already knew about the staged attack, revealing too much could compromise their operation. And with dawn only hours away, this meeting could not run long.

"Do you know why you're here, Mr. Mulciber?" Dumbledore asked.

"I assume MacDonald complained about our little disagreement last night, " Mulciber replied with practised insolence.

"Miss MacDonald is currently in the hospital wing with multiple injuries, " Dumbledore said, his voice hardening slightly. "Three separate witnesses reported seeing you attack her unprovoked in the third-floor corridor."

Mulciber shrugged. "She provoked me."

"Indeed? And how exactly did a girl carrying library books provoke you into casting multiple hexes?"

Mulciber hesitated, glancing briefly at Severus, whose expression remained carefully neutral. Was Dumbledore truly unaware of their plan? Or was this elaborate theatre for McGonagall's benefit?

"She made a remark about my family, " Mulciber improvised. "Suggested we'd all end up in Azkaban."

McGonagall made a sound of disbelief. "And that justified sending her to the hospital wing?"

Mulciber met her gaze with calculated defiance. "I was defending my family's honour."

"By attacking a defenseless student?" McGonagall's voice was scathing.

Dumbledore leaned forward, his blue eyes suddenly piercing. "Mr. Mulciber, I wonder if you realise the gravity of your actions. In ordinary times, attacking a fellow student would result in detention. But these are not ordinary times, are they?"

Something in Dumbledore's tone made Mulciber's certainty waver. The Headmaster's eyes seemed to see through his performance to the truth beneath.

"I don't know what you mean, sir, " Mulciber said carefully.

"Don't you?" Dumbledore's gaze shifted briefly to Severus, then back. "In these troubled times, actions between students can be misinterpreted as something more significant. Tensions between houses can be seen as reflections of larger conflicts."

A sudden, terrible clarity came to Mulciber. Dumbledore knew. Not just about the attack, but about everything, their network, the impending assault, possibly even his own double-agent status. But McGonagall's genuine anger suggested she didn't know this meeting was a charade.

"I was just settling a personal score, " Mulciber insisted, clinging to his cover. "It had nothing to do with anything else."

"Yet Miss MacDonald reports you accused her of 'organising medical supplies for blood traitors, '" Dumbledore noted mildly. "Rather specific language, wouldn't you agree?"

Severus stepped forward slightly. "Headmaster, if I may? There has been tension between these particular students for years. While Mulciber's actions were inexcusable, I believe this was indeed personal rather than... political."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled briefly. "Perhaps, Mr. Snape. Though I find the timing interesting."

"The timing, sir?" Severus asked innocently.

"Yes. Just a day before the holiday break, when students should be focused on exams and festive preparations." Dumbledore steepled his fingers. "Rather than, say, house rivalries."

McGonagall cleared her throat. "Albus, whatever the context, Mr. Mulciber's actions require significant consequences."

"Indeed they do, Minerva." Dumbledore's expression grew stern. "Mr. Mulciber, you will serve detention every evening beginning next term. You are banned from Hogsmeade for the remainder of the year. Fifty points will be deducted from Slytherin. And you will personally apologise to Miss MacDonald."

Mulciber allowed himself to look appropriately outraged. "Apologise? To a Mud, to MacDonald?"

"Yes, " Dumbledore said firmly. "And should any similar incidents occur, your expulsion will be immediate." He leaned forward, voice dropping to near a whisper. "I wonder what would happen to you then, Mr. Mulciber? Sent home early, before... certain events might transpire."

The implication was unmistakable. Dumbledore was warning him, too obvious a performance might result in him being sent away before the Death Eater attack.

"I understand, Headmaster, " Mulciber said, dropping his defiance.

"Good." Dumbledore straightened. "Professor McGonagall, please escort Mr. Mulciber to his first class. Mr. Snape, a moment of your time."

After McGonagall and Mulciber left, Severus remained standing, his posture tense.

"An interesting situation, " Dumbledore observed, stroking Fawkes absently. "A staged attack to maintain Mr. Mulciber's cover with his Death Eater associates."

Severus didn't bother denying it. "How did you know?"

"Miss MacDonald's injuries were too precisely calibrated, painful but non-permanent. And the timing is suspect, coming the night before our anticipated visitors." Dumbledore sighed. "Did you consider informing me of this plan?"

"There wasn't time, " Severus said carefully. "Rosier confronted Mulciber yesterday. We had hours to respond."

"And Miss MacDonald agreed willingly?"

"It was her choice. Made with full information and the freedom to refuse."

Dumbledore's expression grew troubled. "You're asking students to make impossible choices, Severus."

"We're fighting a war, " Severus replied. "Impossible choices are all we have."

"Perhaps." Dumbledore studied him for a long moment. "But remember this: how we fight determines what remains after the battle ends. If we sacrifice too much of our humanity to win, victory becomes very difficult to live with."

Severus was quiet for a moment. "I know, " he said at last. It wasn't agreement exactly, it was acknowledgment. "Is there anything else, Headmaster?"

"Just this: the detention I've assigned Mulciber can serve as cover for any final strategy meetings you need before tonight. My office, whenever necessary, under the same guise. Your Room of Requirement sessions remain your own, but if you need a reason to be seen here, you have one."

"Understood."

As Severus descended the spiral staircase, his mind worked quickly through everything that had just been confirmed. Dumbledore had known about the staged attack. Had made the disciplinary meeting work in their favour rather than against them. Had offered logistical cover without asking for control in return.

It was, Severus thought, the most useful Dumbledore had been without overreaching. He filed the observation away carefully. Old habits of suspicion died slowly. But they could, it seemed, die.

He pushed open the door at the bottom of the staircase and stepped back into the corridor, where the ordinary sounds of morning classes drifted from distant rooms. Somewhere above him, Mulciber was maintaining a cover that might save lives tonight. Somewhere in the hospital wing, Mary MacDonald was resting with bruised ribs she'd chosen freely, for reasons that were entirely her own.

Dawn was coming. But first, they had one more day to hold.