"Put your wand on the ground, McGonagall."

"Shacklebolt?"

"That was not a wise move, Professor," said a deep, full voice. "Drop your wand and put your arms in the air. You too, boys."

The three criminals carefully placed their sticks on the ground and raised their hands. They turned around slowly, facing a tall black man who was accompanied by a young woman with a puffy face and large, curly hair, both pointing their wands at the captive.

McGonagall gasped at the sight of the woman, temporarily losing focus. "G-Granger?"

The young woman seemed to recognize her.

"Professor? What are you doing here?" She asked quizzically.

"No time for catching up," interrupted the first wizard. "Do as I say."

McGonagall obeyed, glancing back at the Granger woman, perhaps hoping that her former pupil would save her.

Dan glanced at Phil, who was sweating. As beads of liquid pooled on his pale forehead, Dan felt nervous for both of them. They hadn't thought that they weren't supposed to be here. They couldn't imagine the always-strict headmistress even thinking of breaking the rules.

The two wizards kept their wands pointed steadily at the captive.

They realized that McGonagall had Apparated to her office and soon they were being forced into small, wooden (rather uncomfortable) chairs.

"Merlin, what were you doing in there, Minerva?" Shacklebolt seemed to be deeply disappointed.

"Kingsley, I had to. You know why."

"So soon?"

"They're 14. They deserve to know. With Potter's death yesterda-"

The younger woman broke into tears, her wand shaking.

"I'm sorry for your loss, Miss Granger."

Phil whispered in a voice that barely carried to Dan, "That's Hermione Granger. She was his best friend."

"You know only certain Unspeakables are allowed in there! You could have at least asked for permission. I'm honestly blown away. The last person you would think . . ." said Shacklebolt, shaking his head.

"I know, Kingsley. I hope you'll forgive me, work aside."

"I don't know, Minerva. I'm going to have to schedule your trial with the Wizengamot. And about these two . . ."

The pair glanced at each other again.

"Phil Lester, sir," breathed Phil, introducing himself. "And this is my . . . er, friend, Dan Howell."

"Okay, Mr. Lester. Can you tell me if you pair were dragged to the Time Room against or by your own free will?"

"Well, to be completely honest with you, sir, we didn't know where the headmistress was taking us until we got there, but we weren't kidnapped or anything, so . . ." He cursed himself for being so awkward.

"Interesting. What did Professor McGonagall show you while you were there?"

"A crystal ball with a prophesy concerning me," rasped Dan, his voice scratchy from all the crying and screaming he had been doing very often lately. "I don't think McGona - I mean, the headmistress was doing anything wrong. She said she had wanted to do it sooner but could never find the right time. And considering I'm going to die, I think right now is as good of a time as any."

Dan didn't know where this outburst of rebellion and anger at authority in general came from, but he felt lots of it right now. He wanted Kingsley and Granger to stop questioning the woman who was responsible for his sudden enlightenment.

Kingsley glanced over at Dan, like he hadn't even noticed him at first. "Interesting."

"Did you look at any other prophecies?" Asked Hermione.

"No, ma'am, we didn't have time," said Phil quickly, cutting Dan's smart response off. Phil glowered at Dan, with a pointed look that said, shut up. We're being arrested you twat.

"Very good. That room can be dangerous if the wrong people are in there . . ." She stared off into the space behind them, wiping a few tears. She looked like she was thinking of a fond memory, but quickly shook herself out of it.

"Kingsley, shall we arrange the trial?"

The tall man turned his back on McGonagall and nodded solemnly to the woman.

"Very well. Professor, if you'll come with me. But . . . what do we do with them?"

"They have committed no crimes. They're free to watch the trial, if they like. Tomorrow afternoon, 1pm sharp."

"Yes sir."

Dan and Phil watched helplessly as the two witches let the office.

"Where are they going?" Asked Phil quietly, probably to himself.

"To outside Hogwart's grounds," said Kingsley.

Dan jumped. I thought he had left. Is he going to arrest us, too?

"They can only Apparate when they are fifty feet beyond Hogwart's protective charm. It's a strong one, Dumbledore was the last to recast it. The new headmaster is supposed to recast the charm every time they replace the last. I do need to tell Minerva to get on that as soon as possible."

It's January 30th, thought Dan. She should probably do that about now. Instead of going to an idiotic trial.

"What are we going to do? Without the headmistress here, I mean," asked Phil nervously.

"You mean she's never missed a day of work before this? Merlin, that woman . . ."

________

"Tomorrow afternoon" couldn't come soon enough, yet it came too quickly. Although they would never admit it, Dan and Phil had gained a certain affection for their headmistress, all these years. She was definitely their mother away from home.

"You look handsome," said Dan, looking his boyfriend (who had just arrived) up and down, scanning his outfit.

Phil blushed and straightened his tie.

"Thanks. It's a Trial, so I figured - look nice, right?" He smiled.

Dan melted. With the terror that had been following them previously, he had almost forgotten what a Phil Lester smile felt like.

"Does that mean I have to wear a cumburbund too?" Moaned Dan.

"You'd look pretty hot in a suit," said Phil bluntly, smiling to himself when he heard Dan's steps retreating to his closet, then bathroom.

They were in the Slytherin dungeons. And honestly, after four years, the Slytherin folk were getting used to it.

Phil sat on Dan's fluffy bed, and realized that he had never gotten a good look at the Howell residence. He had always loathed that Slytherin got their own rooms - Hufflepuffs had to sleep with a room mate.

He got up as he noticed Dan had picture frames on his bedside drawer, and lots of them.

A newborn Dan and his mother, smiling awkwardly.

A toddler-aged Dan, on stage.

A picture of a boy who seemed to be around nine, with the name Adrian scrawled at the bottom in a messy cursive. That must be his brother, Phil thought, noticing the uncanny resemblance. Why didn't Dan ever tell me about him?

Phil heard the doorknob turn and sat down as quickly as he could.

His jaw dropped to the floor.

There was Dan, in a traditional, tight, black and white suit, the tie loose around his neck, his hobbit hair sticking out in all directions.

"Phil, I don't know how to tie this shit."

"Too bad you're not a wizard or anything. You could just charm it into place. It's a shame, really," teased Phil, sticking his tongue out.

Dan blushed and crossed his arms. "Fine, I'll just Google it or something."

"Internet doesn't work here, silly. Come here, I'll tie it for you."

Dan reluctantly stood in front of Phil, watching as his long, skinny fingers working their magic.

"Done," breathed Phil, adjusting his boyfriend's tie, then realized their closeness.

Dan pecked Phil's lips as a sign of gratitude, then reached for his hand.

"Let's go."

________
A/N: Rest in peace Alan Rickman. He will always be my Severus Snape. Always. ✨