Zayn couldn't move a single muscle.
Paralyzed by the Body-Bind Curse, all he could do was stare blankly at the ceiling of the Knight Bus, listening to the muddled sounds of footsteps, of voices blurring in and out.
While his body remained frozen, his mind spun furiously. He imagined himself standing before the Wizengamot, desperately trying to defend his actions. He thought of how Sirius Black had once escaped Azkaban—how someone, someday, might do the same.
Then—BANG—the Knight Bus roared to life.
The jolt was so violent that his limp body slid backward several feet toward the rear of the bus.
"Mother, Severus is still on the floor!"
Marlene's voice.
Moments later, Zayn felt his weight lift as a spell gently levitated him, settling him on a bed with a feather mattress.
At least the rattling of the metal floor was gone now, he thought hazily.
Time blurred.
Then, with another thunderous CRACK, the Knight Bus slammed to a halt again. The bed skidded forward slightly on its wheels.
Hogsmeade.
As he floated out of the vehicle, belly-up, the stars filled his vision—brilliant and cold.
Boots squelched in the mud. Moody's peg leg made that familiar thud-thud over cobbled stone as they entered a low-ceilinged building.
Zayn winced. The heavy scent of mutton filled his nostrils.
The Hog's Head, he guessed.
"Aberforth. Looks like you got my message," growled Moody.
"Is Albus here yet? And could you find a place for Ernie to rest?"
A grunt answered. Then Zayn was floating upward again.
Wood creaked under their feet—stairs—and soon a knock sounded on a heavy door.
"Come in," came Dumbledore's calm voice.
"Good evening, Albus," said Moody.
"Good evening, Alastor. Tell me what happened," Dumbledore said seriously. "And this boy? What's happened to him?"
Zayn was gently lowered to the floor.
He heard the scraping of furniture as someone pulled a chair back and sat.
"Let MacKinnon tell it," said Moody. "I arrived after his signal."
Mr. MacKinnon gave his account, faltering slightly in places. Marlene added what had happened while her father was unconscious.
"Are the bodies downstairs?" Dumbledore asked.
Footsteps followed, fading down the stairs.
Zayn waited.
Eventually, someone returned.
A flash of red light—Finite Incantatem.
The spell broke. Zayn jolted upright, breath coming fast.
He locked eyes with Dumbledore.
"Professor," he said quickly, "can I send a letter home?
"Say I ran into you in Diagon Alley and you wanted to speak to me about school. Just that I'll be late getting back. Please?"
Dumbledore studied him through those half-moon spectacles, blue eyes unreadable.
Then he nodded.
He flicked his wand; a snowy owl appeared at the windowsill. Paper and quill floated into place.
Moments later, the owl vanished into the black sky, letter in its beak.
Zayn hesitated. "Could I… could I have my wand back?"
Dumbledore didn't respond directly. Instead, he cast Muffliato with a flick of his hand, and the room fell into a bubble of silence.
"You have something to tell me, Severus?" he asked.
Zayn nodded.
"The Knight Bus was ambushed by old Avery. He Stunned Ernie Prang and used the Killing Curse on Todd Thumpack."
Zayn's words came fast, determined.
"Avery's a Death Eater. No Imperius Curse. He recognized me immediately. He ordered me to use an Unforgivable Curse—on Marlene."
Dumbledore's expression didn't change. "Go on."
Zayn swallowed hard.
"There's a group in Slytherin… they call themselves Walpurgis.
"They meet regularly. Death Eaters come to teach them dark magic. Unforgivables included. Bellatrix Lestrange taught that one."
"Walpurgis," Dumbledore echoed softly.
Zayn nodded. "It's what the Dark Lord—Voldemort—originally called his followers.
"They don't use it anymore, but the school's 'recruits' still do."
Someone in the room shivered at the name.
"Do you know why the Death Eaters were after the MacKinnons?" Dumbledore asked.
"No. Is there something special about them?" Zayn frowned.
Dumbledore touched the bridge of his crooked nose, deep in thought.
"Then… you killed them both?" he asked finally.
"No, Professor," Zayn said, voice firm. "I killed two Death Eaters."
Dumbledore rose and paced slowly before the fireplace, casting long shadows.
"The first was perhaps necessity. But why did you attack McNair?"
Zayn met his gaze.
"This is war, Professor."
Dumbledore turned sharply.
"That won't be enough to stop me from turning you over to the Ministry in the morning."
Zayn inhaled deeply. Fine.
He would use Dumbledore's own sword against him.
"Don't waste mercy on monsters, Professor," he said.
"Spare it for the innocent. Spare it for the ones who fight for them."
He pointed toward the MacKinnons.
"What would've happened if they'd been taken?"
He didn't wait for a reply.
"There are people out there too scared to say Voldemort's name.
"People who live in fear of coming home and seeing the Dark Mark over their house—knowing what's inside."
"I'm part of Walpurgis. To the Death Eaters, I'm worse than an enemy.
"I'm a traitor."
Zayn's voice dropped to a hard edge.
"I have family too. And I'm terrified one day I'll come home… and see that Mark above my mother's roof."
He locked eyes with Dumbledore.
"I won't lose her. Not to 'procedure,' not to 'justice,' not to some 'greater good.'"
Dumbledore's voice was hoarse.
"He'll be tried. Sent to Azkaban. He won't get near your mother."
Zayn's laugh was bitter.
"Azkaban?
"You mean the prison guarded by Voldemort's most natural allies?"
Silence fell.
Then Dumbledore finally spoke.
"Severus… sometimes change leads to better paths. But not always.
"We'll keep what happened tonight quiet.
"But I want you to consider what you've done—and where it leads."
"Thank you, Professor. I will."
Zayn paused.
"Oh. And… I used magic today. That's not a problem?"
"Ah, no. The Trace can't identify the caster in mixed company," Dumbledore said.
Zayn nodded slowly, taking that in.
"One last thing," he added.
"When the sun rises… could you ask Mr. Moody—or someone else—to escort me to Diagon Alley?
"I need to buy an owl."