The next morning Harry was awakened by footsteps. Snape's footsteps, he thought, and knew he was right when he heard Snape's cold, soft voice telling Madam Pomfrey that a Ministry detective wished to see her in half an hour. Harry sat up and drank some tepid water from the bedside jug. During the night Pomfrey had folded his clothes and left them on the chair. He went through the pockets quickly, finding to his relief that they had not been searched. When he found the copy he had made from Snape's spellbook, he folded it small and stuffed it into the toe of his sneaker. Soon afterwards Pomfrey entered with a napkin-covered tray. Sandwiches and pumpkin juice. How long had he slept?
"How is Fred?" he asked her. "And Ron?" She set the tray on his table and walked him to the bathroom, explaining that the Weasley children and Pansy were with their families. A flannel, towel and clean nightshirt were on the counter next to the sink. She settled herself on a folding chair just outside and talked to him through the door while he washed as best he could.
"Any chemical burns?" she asked him. "You left that dungeon a proper mess. Sure you didn't get anything on you?"
"Nermh," grunted Harry through a mouthful of toothpaste. He wondered how many points Snape would take from Gryffindor for destroying his office.
"Still, you'll have to stay another day, you and Malfoy," she said. "Those were strong Dark spells on you, bad enough to kill, and both of you got more than your share. We're not taking any chances with a relapse. Now, if you need anything when I'm gone, you can wait, or ring for Filch to get me," she told him as he opened the door. "I don't know how long the Ministry fellow will keep me."
"May I have the curtains open?" he asked her. "It's awfully small in here with them shut. And can my friends visit? And I want to talk with the Weasleys before they leave," he said in a rush, knowing uneasily that he had no idea what he could say to them.
"I'll leave word for Hermione," she said. "Now eat." A few feet away, she whisked the curtains back from Malfoy's bed, brought him a stack of magazines, and left, adjusting her robes around her hips. Quidditch Illustrated, read Harry, squinting. Wish I'd thought to ask for one of those. His own table drawer contained only back issues of Witch Weekly and a battered copy of Gadding with Ghouls. He shut it, and curled up again under the covers, trying to think his way through the events of the previous day.
Presently he heard footsteps – Snape's again. They stopped by his bed. He felt a poke in the shoulder.
"You're not asleep, Potter. Get up. You too Malfoy – get that magazine off your face." Snape pulled a stool up between the two beds and perched himself on top like a lean black hawk waiting to seize its prey.
"Now that I have your attention," he announced, "I want to know precisely what happened yesterday. Leave nothing out. All details are important." He fixed his glittering eyes on Harry.
Under Snape's concentrated stare, Harry explained how Voldemort had walked through the door of the potions laboratory; how he had pushed the cabinet over onto his attacker and then escaped through the passageway; about the blank-faced Dementors who had chased him, and Voldemort's wand-rope and chant. After making Harry go through the story several times, Snape cut him off abruptly and asked if there was anything more.
He probably knows already, thought Harry, his stomach sinking. "I, er, looked in one of your potion notebooks," he confessed. "The one you brought to class earlier this year."
Snape's eyes flickered. Was it surprise? Relief? He could read nothing from Snape's voice, which was as haughty as ever. And right on cue, the twisted, sarcastic smile. "More rule-breaking, then, Potter? Whatever did you find?"
"Your bookmark. But the recipe was all runes."
"Five points from Gryffindor, Potter," said Snape. He turned to Malfoy and raised his eyebrows.
"My father said he was going to send us a surprise, sir, so we stayed in the dormitory all afternoon, Goyle and I, playing cards," he began. "Pansy was washing her hair. We heard some people below in the common room, but people are always there. It was only when Pansy came in complaining of the paint smell that we went down – and there were those damn Weasley twins, laughing and slinging paint!" he complained. "Then there was an enormous crash, and the plaster started coming right off the walls! The twins looked up and when they saw us, they ran for it, right out the wall. They led us right into You-Know-Who, Professor! And Goyle ran ahead – I was reaching for my wand, sir – and... and..." He broke off, swallowing hard. Snape's gaze never wavered.
Draco clutched the sheet under his chin, sitting entirely still save for his hands, which trembled. Tears poured down his face. "Greg – he ran out ahead of me – and he died, and... and I'm alive. Why did he have to die?"
"I'll tell you why," said Snape, anger rising in his voice. "Or rather you'll tell me. You and I were here six months ago, weren't we? And you told me what you remembered of the attack on Dumbledore."
"Y..yes, sir," stammered Malfoy, clutching the sheet even tighter.
"And you told me all of it?"
"Well, yes, of course," answered Malfoy warily.
"You did not, you lying little worm!" Snape thundered. "Precisely how stupid do you think Hogwarts headmasters are? I know exactly what you left out of that story. And you didn't fool Dumbledore either."
Draco cowered, his mouth working silently.
"Enough whinging, Malfoy!" commanded Snape. "Now, you are going to tell me the whole truth about Dumbledore's office. Begin!"
"He was talking to me," whimpered Draco, "Dumbledore was, I mean, and I was looking at the files and notes on his desk. All about some deaths." He paused. "He had them all spread out, the papers I mean, I couldn't help seeing."
"Go on," Snape put in icily.
"Squibs, M-mudblood children, and some girl who flunked out of school. They seemed to have died in their sleep but it was really You-Know-Who."
Harry plunged in. "Sir – about Voldemort's spell on me in the corridor – it felt exactly like sleep."
"Silence, Potter!" barked Snape. "Malfoy, you have not finished. Anything… interesting about those people, would you say?" His eyes narrowed.
Draco glanced around as if looking for an escape. He hung his head. "I... I didn't want to be... to end up... like them," he confessed. "With weak magic – I mean, they were nearly as bad as Muggles, weren't they? And the Headmaster said the potion would enhance his powers.."
"I don't think so," drawled Snape. "I asked you to tell me exactly what happened. So… what exactly did he say to you?"
Draco seemed to grow smaller. Hesitantly, he began again. "He said… he said, 'I see you've noticed my potion. When you're… as old as I am you'll find…your aging powers could use a boost now and then'. So…"
Snape looked down his long nose. "That's better. And then?"
"Then… I drank some of it when his back was turned," Malfoy finished in a rush, looking pleadingly up at Snape.
"Ahh, so you drank some of Dumbledore's potion," breathed Snape with a twisted smile. His voice turned menacing. "And what, exactly, is the first rule of potion making?"
It was clearly the first time Snape's sarcasm and temper had been brought to bear on Malfoy. He froze in panic. Snape loomed above him, waiting. "Never..." Malfoy whispered, "take a potion..." His voice faded and more tears spilled out of his pale eyes.
Snape drew a deep breath. "Unless it is prepared for you and you know exactly what is in it!" he roared. "Malfoy, in four years of Potions you have learnt nothing. Nothing! Do you think the science of Potions is some silly game like Quidditch? That you can buy magical skills with a few broomsticks, and blame your mediocrity on muggle-borns and hippogriffs? Your idiocy could have destroyed the school! He brought his fist crashing down on Malfoy's table, making both boys flinch.
There was a clamour of voices outside the Infirmary door. Snape stepped back.
"I don't need anyone's authority to enter, my good woman, I am authority," trumpeted a voice that Harry recognised. The door flew open and Fudge swept in. Over his shoulder, Harry glimpsed the thin pointed face of Lucius Malfoy and behind him an outraged Madam Pomfrey. Harry's scar began to throb faintly.
"Snape!" cried Fudge, coming to a halt in the middle of the floor. "What on earth have you been playing at? You-Know-Who here? And you knew he was expected?" He caught sight of Harry propped up on his pillows. "Thank goodness you're all right, Potter, marvelous to see you again!" He bustled over and shook Harry's hand as if they were at a formal reception, before swinging back to Snape who had drawn himself up like an outraged vulture ruffling its feathers.
"Two pupils dead! I shall want a full account from everyone. Were you actually intending to inform me? If I had not heard from Mr Malfoy last night..."
"I felt it was my duty as a governor to inform the Minister of what I knew immediately, Severus," said Lucius Malfoy with a thin smile.
"Knew? How? You weren't here and no one contacted you," said Snape pointedly.
"Exactly!" roared Fudge. "I have to tell you, Snape, this looks bad, very bad indeed for you. Knowing that...You-Know-Who was coming...and it's not as if it's the first question mark over your actions..."
"No, indeed," added Lucius Malfoy.
"And don't snap at Mr Malfoy," went on Fudge, "he has every right, a personal right to be angry with you!"
"What?" asked Lucius. "Oh – Draco, yes."
He walked over to his son's bed. Malfoy, who had been watching him anxiously, reached for his father's hand and tried to pull him close.
"Father," he began, but Lucius ignored him and swept back the hair from his son's forehead. Then he looked from him to Harry for a few moments, as if making comparisons. Finally he turned away toward where Snape and Fudge were still arguing, with a thoughtful smile on his face. "Later!" was all he said to his son, holding up a warning hand. Harry saw that Malfoy winced and clutched his head as his father left him; his own scar was thumping as well.
"We went through all of this when Dumbledore died!" Snape was hissing to Fudge. "Why another inquest now?"
"I took Mr Malfoy's word that you were trustworthy," retorted Fudge. "Now he's changed it! And after all this business..."
"I felt an inquest would be a useful exercise, get everything out into the open, stop idiotic rumours flying around," said Lucius. "Of course, I hate to think that my over-trusting nature could have been the cause of trouble coming to the school."
"I want your full report now, Snape," said Fudge heading for the door. "I'll be back to talk to you if I need to, Harry. Mr Malfoy, well done lad, it seems you may be in line for an order of Merlin decoration."
But Malfoy had already pulled his sheets over his head and was lying very still.
What is happening? thought Harry. Who am I supposed to trust?
Enjoy, and please review. – Pogonia