The infirmary corridor was quiet as they moved Lucius and Narcissa inside — Madam Pomfrey arriving with the specific expression she reserved for Kevin-related injuries and beginning her assessment without commentary.
Draco stayed at the door.
Kevin turned to him.
"This will feel strange for a moment," he said. "It should settle quickly."
He raised his wand. The purple thread of the counter-curse moved into Draco — the same construct he'd placed in Lucius and Narcissa already, establishing itself in the third and final host, completing the network. Then Kevin reached into the thread and located the thin, pale line of Draco's own modified memory — the self-imposed block he'd placed at the very beginning, right after their staged fight, to ensure his performance was genuine.
Kevin undid the block.
The memories returned.
Not gradually — all at once, the way blocked water moves when the dam breaks. Draco stood very still, and his expression moved through a sequence of things in a short time: confusion, recognition, understanding, and then something more complicated that took longer.
He remembered the fight. He remembered the exact moment he'd chosen to wipe his own memory of it being staged, knowing that the only way to survive Voldemort's Legilimency was to believe the lie completely. He remembered everything he'd done afterward: passing intelligence to Voldemort, attempting to place cursed objects near Kevin and Dumbledore, feeding information about the Order's movements to Greider.
None of it had been scripted. All of it had been real, in the sense that his hand had done it, his voice had spoken the words. The amnesia didn't change that.
He lowered his head.
"You're too slow, Kevin," he said. His voice was controlled and slightly wrecked. "Next time, pick up the pace."
"I had to rebuild the entire theoretical framework for your specific curse from scratch. You're welcome." Kevin put no edge in it. He meant none.
Harry and Ron launched themselves at Draco with the enthusiasm of people who have been patient for a very long time and are done being patient. Draco ended up against the corridor wall with Harry's arm around his neck and Ron's around his waist, and he submitted to this with a dignity that was slightly undermined by the obvious effort not to smile.
"You absolute nightmare," Ron said, into Draco's shoulder. "You had us worried."
"You said I made you comfortable," Draco said, muffled. "You said you preferred me as an enemy."
"I lied. Clearly."
"You were never very good at lying."
"Draco," Hermione said, from the side, quiet and direct. "I'm sorry for not finding a way to let you know we were still in your corner. That must have been a very long year."
Draco extracted himself from Harry and Ron enough to look at her properly. Something in his face shifted — the particular effect of an apology offered without expectation.
"Hermione." He hesitated. "I said things. During the — I said things that were—"
"I know they weren't you."
"Some of them might have been a bit me." He held her gaze, steady. "I'm sorry. For all of it."
She nodded once. The air between them settled.
Kevin, who had been leaning against the corridor wall and watching, finally straightened up. "Right. Two patients in the infirmary who need monitoring. And Draco — the Greider situation."
Draco's expression shifted to something more businesslike. "He's been Voldemort's Ministry contact all year. Whenever I found anything useful in the Room of Requirement about the Diadem's location, he was the handoff — his Ministry access was meant to get it out of the school."
"We know," Kevin said. "He's been flagged."
"We've got him."
Dumbledore's voice arrived from the end of the corridor, warm and unhurried, as though he had simply materialised there. He was smiling — genuinely, not the performed version.
He walked toward them and put one hand briefly on Draco's shoulder.
"Welcome back, son," he said. "It is very good to see all of you together."
Draco looked up at him. The word son sat in the air for a moment.
"Professor," he said quietly.
"You held on through a very difficult year," Dumbledore said. "That required a great deal more courage than most people will ever know about."
He looked around at all of them — Harry, Ron, Hermione, Kevin, Draco — with the expression of a man who has been working toward something for a very long time and is allowing himself, for a moment, to see where they've arrived.
"Now," he said. "I believe we have rather a lot to discuss."
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The story does not stop here. It NEVER stopped. More chapters breathe and pulse beyond this page, ready to be unlocked. Do not let curiosity go unanswered.