The next room – which had also been empty when Remus was down – contained a large chessboard. Pieces were scattered everywhere – some on their sides, broken – others standing and a little worse for wear, and others completely fine. Remus heard a scuffling sound, and saw a figure drop to the hard marble floor. He started forward, and then diverted when he caught a familiar scent. Harry was, miraculously, still standing, though he had his back to them. Harry took a step forward, and then stopped.
A moment later, he jerked backward, as if he'd been hit by something invisible.
"Harry!" Remus said, and managed to reach him in time to stop him from cracking his head open on the floor. Harry looked very small and battered, but he was alive. "He's alive," he told Dumbledore, who'd come to kneel behind him, looking afraid. "Oh, thank Merlin, he's alive."
There was another scuffling sound from the other person, and Remus looked at them for the first time. Christopher Morton flailed on the ground, one hand clutching his head, the other clutching at his pocket. Dumbledore's scent went from warm and worried, to cold. Hostile, even.
"Severus was right," Dumbledore said. He took one look at Harry, who Remus was now trying to revive with every spell he knew, and stood. Morton coughed blood, and then managed to tip something down his throat. He went still at once. Dumbledore flicked his wand to summon the phial that had just dropped from Morton's limp hand, and raised it to his nose. He glanced at Fawkes. "Phoenix tears," he murmured.
"Rennervate," Remus said. "Come on, Harry. Please. Rennervate." And Harry stirred. Dumbledore was crouched over Morton, but Remus didn't care about that, because Harry was awake- just.
"Moony," Harry said, his tongue tripping over the word.
"Harry," Remus said. "We're here now-"
"Dead," Harry said, closing his eyes again. Though his face didn't change much at all – Remus thought he was too tired to – his scent was sharp, and all over the place. "Padfoot- the Veil. He's dead." Harry's face scrunched up.
"No," Remus said, trying to help Harry into a sitting position. His hand brushed Harry's side, and Harry growled at him – probably without meaning to, and then his head lolled back. "No, he's been found. He's alive." Harry didn't respond to that – he was unconscious again – but Remus hoped Harry had heard him. "Sir, I'm taking him to- He needs Madam Pomfrey."
"Take him," Dumbledore said. "I'll join you there shortly."
"Everything all right?" Remus asked Dora, as she walked back into the hospital wing, tucking her Sidekick away. She cast a sad look at the curtains – which were blocking Harry and Madam Pomfrey from view – and then sat down beside Remus.
"Sirius woke up and someone told him what was happening here," she said.
"Oh no-"
"Prat tried to break himself out of St Mungo's," Dora sighed. "And then fainted in the hallway. They'd like someone he knows to go down there, and talk to him when he's awake again; make sure he doesn't try anything."
"I'll go," Remus said. Harry wouldn't be awake for a while – Madam Pomfrey had assured him of that – and, though he knew Sirius was alive, Remus wanted to see him, wanted to talk to him, and try to forget those few nightmarish days where he thought he'd never see his best friend again.
"I'll stay here, if that's all right," Dora said. "You can get me through my Sidekick if you ask the Aurors-"
"Are you going to keep an eye on things?" Remus asked her. Draco was fast asleep, and Snape was sitting in the chair by his bed, watching over him. Hermione was also asleep – she'd had her cuts and bruises fixed up and had been dosed up with a sleeping potion (in the hopes it would calm her down). In the bed next to hers, Ron was curled up and breathing deeply, with his heavily bandaged hand resting on the pillow beside his head. Aside from the sounds of Madam Pomfrey working behind the curtain, and Ron's soft snores, the hospital wing was silent. There really wasn't much to keep an eye on.
"No," Dora said. "I think everything here's under control, and Mad-Eye's doing most of the paperwork – I'll just have to sign it and add my account tomorrow. No, I was thinking I might steal the bed in your quarters, and try to get a few hours of sleep." Remus hadn't realised how good sleep sounded until she mentioned it. "If that's okay?"
"Of course," Remus said, kissing her forehead.
"I'm glad; I'd have taken it anyway, but it's much nicer to have your permission," Dora said, with a cheeky grin. Remus smiled back, and tilted her chin up so he could kiss her properly. Dora's hair was a pale pink colour when he pulled away. "Will you be back tonight?"
"Sleep sounds good," Remus said. "I daresay I'll be curling up next to you in another hour or two."
Albus conjured himself a chair and sat down a few yards away from where Christopher was starting to stir. He'd already sealed the doorways that led out of the chess chamber, and he'd taken what remained of Christopher's wand, but it still seemed prudent to take precautions.
"Dumbledore," Christopher said.
"Christopher," Albus replied, stroking Fawkes, who was perched on the back of his chair. "How do you feel?" he asked conversationally.
"Better now," Christopher replied in the same tone. He pushed himself upright, slowly, until he was sitting cross-legged, facing Albus. "You might not believe it, but I am sorry for what I did to your bird… I can't say I regret it, though. His tears have saved me twice, now."
"Indeed," Albus said, watching Christopher carefully. Fawkes shifted in a restless sort of manner behind him, and Albus reached back to calm him.
"Are you here to kill me?" Christopher asked. Albus saw him pat his pocket, and then saw his face spasm with what could have been fear, or irritation. "You're probably quite unhappy with me."
"Murder is no way to solve the world's problems," Albus replied. "I have you here, unarmed, and unable to escape. I'd like some questions answered, if that's amenable to you."
"And if it's not? You can't make me talk to you, because it's illegal to use Veritaserum on minors, and same goes for Legillimency." Christopher smiled rather smugly. "Even if you did, I could keep you out."
"Oh, I have no doubt of that," Albus said. "If you couldn't, you'd have been discovered as a danger long before now."
"I didn't mean to be a danger," Christopher mumbled. "Things got a bit… out of hand."
"Things often do, when Lord Voldemort is involved," Albus said quietly. Christopher didn't flinch at the name, just sighed. "You were helping him, weren't you, Christopher?" Christopher said nothing. "And willingly, I daresay."
"He possessed me," Christopher said.
"If you can keep a Legillimens out, or fight Veritaserum, I think you'd have been able to supress Voldemort long enough to alert someone to the fact that he was there." Christopher's expression soured. "You may not have enjoyed it-"
"Enjoyed it?" Christopher asked. "He was in my head. He could hear everything I thought about. He could take control of my body when he wanted to-"
"You may not have enjoyed it, but you allowed it," Albus said. "Didn't you." Christopher stared at the marble floor. "So why? What did he offer you? Power? To bring your father back?"
"Potter thought it might have been to do with my father as well," Christopher said.
"And was it?"
"Funny," Christopher said, "how in trying to guess my weakness, people seem to reveal their own. Potter said he saw his dead godfather in the mirror. Who do you see, Dumbledore? Someone you've lost, I'm certain." This time, it wasn't for Fawkes' sake that Albus reached out to the phoenix. He thought quickly, scouring his head for something that could unsettle the boy across from him.
"Sirius lives," Albus said softly.
"I admire your faith in the man – he is quite tenacious – but this time, Dumbledore, there's no returning-"
"He's in St Mungo's," Albus said. "Exhausted, but quite alive, I assure you." Christopher's expression flickered.
"How?" There was no fear in Christopher's tone, just curiosity. "It shouldn't have been possible-"
"Azkaban is supposed to be inescapable," Albus said, "but Sirius managed." It was silent for a few, long seconds, and then Christopher sighed.
"What do you want, Dumbledore?"
"The question, Christopher, is what do you want? Are you going to search for your master as soon as you're free-"
"My 'master' left me to die just now. The only reason I didn't is because I thought he might do exactly that, and came prepared." Albus watched him closely. "No, he thinks I'm dead, and given that I've failed tonight, he won't be happy to learn that I'm still alive."
"I see," Albus says.
"Isn't this where you offer me a second chance?" Christopher said, glowering at Albus.
"I'm not sure," Albus replied. "Is it?"
"Yes," Christopher said, scowling. "I'm not going back to Voldemort – I've just explained that. So as long as I don't hurt anyone else, ever again, you'll just send me on my way, right?"
"Christopher," Albus said sadly, "You have harboured the wizarding world's greatest enemy within my school for the duration of the year, and in doing so, put hundreds of lives at risk. You attacked Fawkes, Severus, Harry, and even me, that night in the forest, and you have attempted to still one of my dearest friend's possessions from my care-"
"I've made mistakes."
"A mistake is eating a urine flavoured bean, rather than a lemon one," Albus said softly.
"Severus made the same mistakes!" Christopher said. "He joined Voldemort- He even got the Mark! He's killed and tortured people-"
"And repented before he was caught," Albus said. "He approached me." He studied Christopher through his spectacles. "A second chance is a privilege, not a right."
"You don't think I deserve it," he said slowly. "Albus Dumbledore, the kindest wizard to ever have lived-" And there was a mocking undertone in those last few words. "-doesn't think I'm worth saving. Doesn't the fact that I'm talking to you count as some sort of gesture of goodwill? I haven't attacked you-"
"Even if you did, do you really think you could win?" Albus asked. "You have no wand, but I have mine. Even without it, though, I am not an average wizard." Christopher's expression soured. "And yes, you have spoken to me, but not truthfully."
"I have-"
"You've not even told me your real name," Albus said, and Christopher's mouth twitched. "You've boasted of your Occlumency skills, though, and Lord Voldemort, no matter how desperate, would not spend a full year in an eleven year old's head. Possess them briefly, certainly, or manipulate them into doing his bidding, but share a mind, and a body… No. Nor would you have accounted for the possibility of betrayal." Albus shook his head. "I don't know where the real Christopher is, but I know you are not him."
"Clever," Christopher sneered, but offered nothing more on the matter. "So who am I, then, Dumbledore?"
"Someone who has made a number of bad decisions this past year," Albus replied.
"That's not a name," Christopher said.
"No, but I think a person's actions tell you more about them than a combination of letters does," Albus said. "I have no issue with continuing to call you Christopher, if that's what you were worried about."
"You're not going to give me a second chance, are you?" Christopher asked, looking wary for the first time.
"You've affected far too many lives this year for me to be able to decide that on my own," Albus said. "I shall speak to you again when you wake up."
"When I wake-?"
"Dormio," Albus said, putting as much strength behind the word as he could. Christopher's eyes rolled back into his head, and he slumped sideways onto the floor.
Draco's eyes skimmed over the page of the book Severus had loaned him, without really taking in what was written. Severus had been down the trapdoor, and he'd been in the hospital wing when Draco awoke, but he'd left shortly after, and Draco hadn't had a chance to speak with him at all.
"You're Draco Malfoy, aren't you?" Draco glanced up to see girl watching him. The girl had red hair, freckles, bright brown eyes, and was wearing, a rather colourful knitted skirt, and a jumper with a large 'G' on it. Her appearance, coupled with the fact that Weasley was being fussed over by his plump mother, meant she could really only be one person.
"You must be She-Weasley," he said. Her eyes narrowed.
"She-Weasley?" she asked, putting her nose in the air.
"Sure," Draco said, setting his book down. "There's Weasley-" He gestured to Weasley. "-Weasleys One and Two-" He gestured to the far beds, where the twins were chatting to Madam Pomfrey; they'd been discovered outside Gryffindor common room, thigh deep in the floor by the Head Girl. They were claiming they couldn't feel their legs, but Draco suspected it was a ploy to see how Weasley was. "-and Prefect Weasley." He was in the bed closest to Weasley, and had – if Draco had overheard correctly – been treated for a mild concussion.
"My real name's Ginny," She-Weasley offered.
"I know," Draco said, shrugging. She squinted at him, and then she shrugged as well and her gaze moved to the curtained bed, closest to Madam Pomfrey's office.
"That's where Harry is, right?" she asked.
"Right," Draco said, lowering his book. Potter hadn't awoken yet – in fairness, neither had Granger, but then she'd been dosed with a strong sleeping potion – and while Madam Pomfrey said he'd be all right, it worried Draco that they'd curtained him off.
"And that must be Hermione?" She-Weasley said, looking over at Granger.
"That's Granger, yes," Draco replied. "Shouldn't you be over with the rest of your family?"
"I thought you looked lonely," she said, seeming offended. "Everyone else is asleep, except Ron and Mum and Percy and the twins, so I thought I'd come and say hello."
"You never actually said hello," Draco pointed out.
"Hello," She-Weasley said in a flat voice, and Draco couldn't help but grin. She took that as a cue to pull the chair over and sit down by his bed. "How'd you hurt your head?" she asked.
"I- I don't know if I'm allowed to talk about it," Draco said, pressing a hand to the bandage. "It's probably supposed to be a secret."
"That's all right," she said. "I'll just get Ron to tell me later." Draco felt a sudden stab of jealousy for the apparently close sibling relationship Weasley and She-Weasley had. If it had been Hydrus rather than Draco down the trapdoor, Draco wouldn't have been told anything at all, and Draco was fairly sure he wouldn't be telling his brother much of what had taken place. "What's Gryffindor like?" she continued, oblivious. Draco stared at her for a moment, trying to focus on what she'd said. "You don't like it?" she said, mistaking his silence.
"No, I do, I- It's- the common room's my favourite place. All of my friends are there, and my brother and his lot can't bother me, and it's so warm… very red, though. I thought it was ghastly when I first saw it, but it grows on you-"
"I'm hoping to go into Gryffindor," She-Weasley said.
"Never would have guessed," Draco said. She rolled her eyes and he smiled. Then, She-Weasley glanced at something behind Draco.
"It was nice to meet you," she said, looking apologetic, and practically fled back to her mother's side.
Draco turned, already suspecting what – or rather who – he might see. Severus was there, leading Mother and Father past the other hospital wing beds. Draco tried not to stare at his fake leg.
"Draco," Mother said, and Draco thought she might have been crying.
Oops, he thought.
"How do you feel?"
"Clearly not too poorly, if he's up to making friends," Father said, rather coolly. He was watching She-Weasley, who was very obviously not watching him back. "Or perhaps he hit his head so hard he now thinks a Weasley is acceptable company."
"Lucius," Mother said quietly, putting a hand on Father's arm. Father glared at her, and then sighed and looked at Draco. His expression softened ever so slightly, and Draco got a glimpse of more emotion than he thought he was meant to have seen.
"I- I am glad you're all right," Father said, and Draco waited for the little voice that usually told him 'lie' but it didn't come. Draco felt guilty for thinking so little of Father. He glanced at him again, hoping to convey that with a look – since Father didn't tolerate hugs – but Father was watching She-Weasley with a supremely unimpressed expression. Severus was frowning at Father.
"There will be words, though," Mother warned, drawing Draco's attention back to her. "Your behaviour last night was foolish in ways you can't even begin to understand." Draco opened his mouth to protest, but Severus shook his head, ever so slightly, and Draco closed it again. "You don't know any better-" There was an odd look on her face when she said that, and Draco wondered about it. "-but ignorance is becoming dangerous – for you, but also for us as a family – and once term ends, I intend to sit both you and your brother down and explain a number of things."
"Yes, Mother," Draco said quietly. Mother's expression went from icy to gentle in less than a second, and for a moment, Draco thought she might hug him. She didn't, though; instead she turned and approached Madam Pomfrey, wanting some sort of official report on Draco's health. Father was still watching the Weasleys, and Draco watched too; Mother Weasley was sitting on Weasley's bed, fussing over his bandaged hand, and peppering him with hugs and pats and kisses, while She-Weasley chatted animatedly.
Draco wanted to be hugged and looked after – he'd thought he was going to die last night, and that his friends would too, and then he'd been attacked by a giant chess piece, and he'd been unconscious and bleeding – but he didn't like his chances of that.
As if reading his mind, Severus reached out and put a hand on his shoulder, and Draco – despite being angry at Severus for ignoring him for weeks – leaned into the contact and felt a little bit better.
"Just happy you're all right," Hermione said. Harry smiled at her, and straightened in bed, trying not to jostle his side. He'd been dosed with Skele-Gro, and, while thankfully he only had to deal with the aftertaste, it had made his ribs quite sore. He wished she'd just heal it with a spell, but she probably used Skele-Gro as a punishment for doing dangerous things, as well as for a cure.
Harry couldn't even bring himself to care, though; he'd seen Moony and Dora very briefly when he first awoke that afternoon, and they'd told him Padfoot was alive. He'd be in St Mungo's for a while – at least a month, the Healers were saying, if only to make sure he didn't try to go back to work until he was ready – but that he was already awake and complaining about being stuck in bed, and that he was desperate to see Harry. Moony had promised to take him as soon as Madam Pomfrey gave Harry the all clear, and had promised to retrieve Harry's mirror from his office (where Harry had left it the night they went down the trapdoor) in the meantime. Harry hadn't been able to stop smiling since.
"You were so sure that it was King, though," Ron said, helping himself to a chocolate frog from the significant pile that that had accumulated on Harry's bedside table.
"Well yeah," Draco said, chewing on the end of a liquorice wand. "We'd lived with Morton for a year, and Potter said he was doing something to keep everyone from knowing-"
"Occlumency, dear boy," Dumbledore said, pulling the curtains aside.
"Professor Dumbledore!" Hermione exclaimed.
"How are you all feeling?"
"Better," Ron said, and then hastily added a, "sir." Draco nodded.
"Much better," Hermione said.
"I'm glad to hear it." Dumbledore smiled kindly around at them all, but Harry thought he smelled tired. "Much as I'm sure Harry would enjoy your company more than mine, do you mind if I steal him for a few moments?" Harry's friends shuffled out, and Dumbledore closed the curtains behind them, and then flicked his wand at them. The sound of their footsteps, and of Madam Pomfrey healing a girl with a nasty cough vanished at once. "Firstly, Harry, I must commend you on your efforts last night." Harry suddenly remembered what he'd gone down there for in the first place.
"Sir, the stone! I hid it-"
"I am aware," Dumbledore said calmly. "And it took me two hours, but I did, eventually recover it, and I have since spoken to Nicholas and we have agreed to destroy it." Harry's eyebrows shot up at that, but the stone's destruction wasn't the first question on his mind.
"Two hours to find?"
"Sometimes the simplest hiding places are the best," Dumbledore said wryly. "I spent the majority of my time wading through the swamp, thinking you might have tucked it away there, or buried it."
"Sorry-"
"No apologies are necessary, Harry. None at all. Christopher tricked us, and had you not been there, I have no doubt he would have succeeded."
"Christopher?" Harry asked. "You don't know?"
"Ah," Dumbledore said. "I assume at some point during your confrontation, he introduced himself properly to you?"
"It's Quirrell," Harry said. Dumbledore didn't look entirely surprised, but he didn't look as if he'd been expecting to hear that name either.
"A shame," he sighed.
"Is he-"
"No, Harry, he's alive," Dumbledore said. "And safely in my care for the time being." Something on Harry's face must have given away his uncertainty as to how vigilant Dumbledore's care was (after all, Dumbledore was here with Harry, and Quirrell was nowhere in sight) because Dumbledore smiled and pulled a chocolate frog card out of his pocket. Morton's name was on it, and Morton himself was fast asleep inside the frame. Harry laughed, delighted, but then frowned.
"I can see how he got through Flitwick's and McGonagall's," Harry said, "but I don't know how he knew how to get through Moony's. I mean, that wasn't supposed to be- that was meant to be a secret."
"I do not tell you this lightly, Harry, and will be disappointed if I hear this has been spread… but I know you of all people will be accepting… Remus is not the last student we've had to make special accommodations for. When Quirinus taught here, he was aware of the Willow arrangement, and no doubt pieced together its origin."
"There are other werewolves here at the moment?" Harry asked. "Who?" Dumbledore just shook his head, smiling. Harry wasn't surprised.
"Sir, the other thing- When Quirrell, or Voldemort, or whoever touched me, he- I burned him."
"Your mother died to save you, Harry, and Voldemort has never understood love, particularly not of that magnitude. Her love for you lingers still, protecting you – it's how I made the wards around your aunt and uncle's home, all those years ago – and is within you. Quirinus was tainted, sharing his mind and body and soul with Voldemort, and when he tried to touch you, someone so innately good, someone marked by something so good, he was unable to."
"He'll be back though, won't he?" Harry asked. "He didn't manage to get the stone, but he'll find another way, or try to. Won't he?"
"Last night was a considerable setback for him, so we must consider that a victory… unfortunately, you have won us the battle, not the war." Dumbledore sighed. "Yes, Harry, he will try again."
And again and again, until the prophecy resolves itself, one way or the other, Harry thought, sighing.
"Now," Dumbledore said after a few moments of silence. "It wouldn't really be a hospital visit without these, would it?" He pulled a deck of exploding snap cards out of his pocket with a smile. Harry grinned back, grabbing the nearest box of bertie botts over. "Do you have time for a few games?"