Argus Filch glanced nervously from the Headmaster, to Malfoy, to Harry.
"It can wait," he said in his gravelly voice, his face contorted between fear and a sneer.
"Nonsense," Dumbledore said in a light, friendly voice, settling himself comfortably on the hospital bed as though he were about to hear a long story, "I think it's high time we got to the bottom of this."
Filch seemed to regain some of his usual charm, and dragged Malfoy up to his feet.
"Thought you'd be interested to know," he said, "I found this one in 'Ogsmeade today. Before the Quidditch match."
Harry narrowed his eyes – that wasn't possible.
"I [I]wasn't[/I] in Hogsmeade!" Draco said petulantly, pointing at Harry, "[I]He'll[/I] tell you! I was at breakfast today! And I went straight to the Quidditch pitch! Even McGonagall saw it!"
"The hair!" Hermione said, "It was you!"
"What hair?" Draco asked, angrily, "What has gotten into everyone? You'd think no one had seen a Dementor before..."
"Draco," Professor Dumbledore said sternly, "Have you been in contact with your father recently?" Harry was surprised to hear the Headmaster use his first name.
Malfoy hesitated ever so slightly.
"No," he said firmly, "And if I did, I wouldn't be likely to tell anyone about it, would I?"
"Of course not," Professor Dumbledore said evenly, "But hypothetically speaking, if you [I]had[/I] spoken to him...might he have asked for certain information? The Gryffindor password for example?"
Malfoy's face turned slightly pale. Hermione stood, her fists balled.
"You foul, despicable, slippery little –"
"That will do, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said, with a friendly but curt nod.
"And the hair?" Harry asked angrily, "And the uniform? You gave them to your father as well, didn't you?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about," Malfoy spat with disgust.
"Mr. Malfoy, you understand, I hope, the seriousness of this situation. If, in fact, you aided a Death Eater in entering the school –"
Harry was surprised to note that Malfoy's eyes suddenly went wide, and he looked over at Neville – he seemed to have panic written on his face.
"Maybe...he really didn't know," Harry begrudgingly admitted, "Maybe he was being used by Death Eaters just as much as any of us."
"Yes, Mr. Malfoy. The Death Eaters were here today. And if, in fact, you aided a Death Eater in entering the school, it would be a serious violation of wizarding law. I would not be able to protect you, Mr. Malfoy. You would be expelled, your wand would be snapped, and you would be forced to stand trial before the Wizengamot. You might even be sent to Azkaban, for a period of time," Dumbledore added, peering at Malfoy sternly over the rim of his spectacles, "I think it would behoove you to be honest with me at this point."
Malfoy squirmed uncomfortably.
"He's my father."
"So I take it you have been in contact with him?" Professor Dumbledore pried.
Malfoy scowled at the floor, panic flitting behind his poker face. Harry had a feeling he wanted to get himself off the hook, but didn't dare incriminate his father.
"All I'm saying, is that if he were to ask me for something...something like the Gryffindor password...I'd give it to him."
Harry smiled grimly. That was it – they had a confession. Malfoy would be expelled.
"Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore said, his voice gaining resonance and volume, "Do you fully understand your actions? Because of you, several students nearly died today...Did you even pause to think [I]why[/I] your father wanted that information?"
"What am I supposed to do about it?" burst Malfoy, angrily, "He's my father! And when my father asks a question, you give him an answer, not more questions! What do you think would happen if I refused?"
Harry was horrified to see the emotion on Draco's face. He didn't want to see Draco like this – not now, not ever. He had to hate him – it was absolutely necessary that he hate Draco Malfoy with all his might...Malfoy. Malfoy, not Draco. He would never call him Draco.
"Besides!" Malfoy said, drawing himself up taller, "Who says my father [I]is[/I] a Death Eater?"
"Draco," Dumbledore said, his eyes surprisingly tender, "You and I both know perfectly well that your father [I]is[/I] a Death Eater. I've seen him with Lord Voldemort himself. He was tried, and put in Azkaban for months—"
"That's a [I]lie![/I]" Draco said, his eyes flashing, "He was acting under the Imperius! You and your [I]favorites[/I]," he fumed, waving his hand at Harry, Ron and Hermione, "Think that unless we worship the ground you walk on, we must be Death Eaters! Well I'm never going to join your little [I]fan club.[/I] I'm never going to kiss the ground that scar-head walks on! And I'm not going to turn in my own father just to keep you happy! Expell me if you want to, I don't care."
Dumbledore sighed deeply.
"I am assigning you a month of detention," he said, "You are also banned from playing Quidditch for the rest of the year, and all Hogsmeade visits. I have no wish to expell you Mr. Malfoy, or turn you over to the Ministry. But if you insist on this misguided loyalty to your father, I can foresee no other alternative."
Having escaped expulsion for the second time that year, Malfoy stood a bit straighter, smirking.
"Yes, [I]sir[/I]," he said, with just a hint of derision, "Is that all? May I go collect my punishment now?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact," Dumbledore said, and Harry thought he saw a slight twinkle in Dumbledore's eye, "Why don't you go to Professor Snape, and explain exactly what we've discussed here today. You'll be serving your detentions with him."
Malfoy's face blanched slightly, and his arrogant posture deflated.
"Apparently he's not Snape's favorite anymore," Harry smirked to himself.
His smirk faded slightly as he recalled what Snape had said on the Quidditch pitch, after they'd found Hermione...that he would be "appropriately punished." Just what had Snape done to Malfoy that had him so scared?
Filch led Malfoy out of the room, with a smug grin on his gnarled face – he didn't care too much about the logistics – Harry was confident he hadn't understood most of what was just said. So long as someone was getting punished, he was content.
"I think," Professor Dumbledore said, "It would probably be best if the three of you found Professor Lupin. He's been worried sick."
"Headmaster, that's the second time Malfoy [I]hasn't[/I] been expelled!" Ron interjected hotly, "If any of us tried something like that –"
"Yes, Mr. Weasley, but it wasn't any of you – it was Mr. Malfoy. What do you think is the first thing that would happen once he was expelled?" Dumbledore asked wearily, "His father would recruit him to the Death Eaters in an instant. He nearly has already, and he bears enough of a grudge against us as it is – being expelled would be all the convincing he'd need to join the Death Eaters, if only to have the opportunity to strike back at the school, at me, or at the three of you. Besides which, if his father failed to convince him, he would simply use other, less legal means of persuasion. No, at Hogwarts, at the very least, I am able to watch over him as best I can. Though it seems," he added, his face careworn, "That I have failed in that aim as well."
Ron shuffled uncomfortably, "I didn't mean...Malfoy's just an evil twit, sir. It's not your fault."
"Alas, I fear that is where you're wrong, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore said with a world-weary sigh, "You see, Draco Malfoy is caught between a rock and a hard place, so to speak. Contrary to what you might think, he hates Voldemort, the Death Eaters, and his father almost as much as he hates all of us."
Harry wrinkled his nose doubtfully. "If he hates the Death Eaters so much, why is he so keen to help them? Besides, all they've done is try to get rid of all of us for the past six years. Seems they're doing him a favor."
But Dumbledore shook his head, and continued, "Voldemort stole his father away. He knows that there is no room in his Lucius Malfoy's heart to ever love him, that Voldemort has precluded that possibility, and his mother's heart is completely consumed with Lucius. Draco has always believed that he can never be loved by another human being. In its place, like his father, he prizes power and respect above all else. All Draco can hope for is to make his father proud. And as he alternately fails and succeeds in that goal, he both loves and hates himself, and loves and hates his father."
"So let him go to an Observer!" Ron retorted, "And leave us the hell alone!"
"Observer?" Harry asked.
"Oh, sorry mate," Ron added, "I keep forgetting."
"Someone who looks at your thoughts and tells you what they see," Hermione explained swiftly, "Like a magical psychologist, of sorts."
"It's not so much what he's [I]thinking,[/I]" Harry said impatiently, "So much as what he's [I]doing[/I]."
"Yet every action is the end result of a thought," Dumbledore said, with a glance at Harry's shoulder. Harry lowered his head. He now knew only too well how true that was.
"And for Draco Malfoy, those thoughts are deeply bitter and misguided. He draws closer and closer to a point of no return, and it frightens him at the same time. Yet even now you see how loyal he is to his father – pride, power, and loyalty are all he has ever known. I fear he will never separate his own destiny from that of his family's before it is too late. Already he has come close to Azkaban several times this year. Once he is in Ministry hands, I can't hold out much hope that he will ever change for the better. The hurt he suppresses will become rage against the world at large, and he will never gain satisfaction."
The infirmary was quiet for a while. Harry knew that Professor Dumbledore cared about the students, and wanted to see them succeed – but he never imagined that he expended too much worry over the likes of Draco Malfoy.
"I am deeply sorry to the three of you that Mr. Malfoy has caused you such pain this year. But you see, it really is for the best that he remain here. I fear the damage he might do would triple if he were expelled."
"We understand, Professor," Hermione said, "We'll go find Professor Lupin...we don't mean to keep you."
She subtly nudged Ron towards the door, and Harry stood to follow.
"Harry? A word before you go?"
Hermione successfully pushed Ron out into the hallway.
"Yes, Professor?"
"Remember – you always have a choice," Dumbledore said with a nod, "It is this fact that Mr. Malfoy has forgotten. Perhaps...you can find a way to remind him, where I have been unable to do so."
Harry felt a sudden burst of helpless annoyance. Just what else was he expected to do this year? Kill Voldemort, unite the houses, "heal the Divide," whatever that meant, and now, ask Draco to play nicely with others?
Harry sighed, "I'll try, sir."
Dumbledore nodded, and Harry went to meet Ron and Hermione in the hallway.
"Miserable, arrogant little milksop," Lupin said fiercely, "I'd like to teach him some manners."
"Err, you're a Hogwarts Professor...Professor," Hermione interjected timidly.
"I'm also Harry's...Well, I don't know what I am specifically, but it's reason enough to trounce the little berk. Let Dumbledore fire me. Nobody else will take this bloody post."
Ron snorted gleefully, and Hermione shot him a glare.
"Sorry, it's just funny to hear a Professor talk about thumping Malfoy," he said, a dreamy look in his eyes.
"Professor Snape would take this ruddy post," Hermione reminded Lupin, "And that's why we need you here. Besides, you're the best Defense teacher we've had yet, and we're ages behind."
Lupin sighed dejectedly, and sat at his desk, absentmindedly shooting some sparks at a grindylow, which had been creeping its webbed fingers over the edge of its tank.
"I know," he said, "It's a few days until full moon, and I'm irritable enough as it is without that..."
He interrupted himself with a deep breath, and smiled gently at Harry.
"Not setting a terribly good example, am I? Sorry."
Harry grinned, "Not to worry. We've been wanting to trounce him for ages."
"You nearly did, back there," Ron said, impressed, "That makes two of us today that've nearly beaten him to a pulp."
"I [I]don't[/I] think that's something we ought to be proud of, necessarily," Hermione said severely.
"Come off it, you're the one that hit him in third year."
"Yes," Hermione said, staring reminiscently over their heads, "That [I]did[/I] feel good."
But Harry remained quiet, grinning vaguely. Neither of them remembered...neither knew just how close he'd come to...
He pushed it out of his mind.
"Have you pieced together exactly what happened yet?" Lupin asked, "You've seen the Headmaster more recently than I have."
"Well, Malfoy was seen in Hogsmeade this morning," Hermione said, "Which is impossible – he was at breakfast. So we know that Nott was posing as Malfoy to get into the school."
"He got in through the Shrieking Shack," Harry added quietly, "We think Pettigrew must have told him."
Lupin's face clouded over at the sound of the name.
"They ought to be in Azkaban," Lupin said, bitterly, "How [I]ironic.[/I] Sirius spends nearly his entire adulthood in Azkaban for something he never did, and meanwhile Malfoys one and two are running amok. Not to mention Pettigrew."
He spat the name out, his face contorted into a scowl. Suddenly, he stood, and turned to face the blackboard on the pretense of erasing some of the day's notes. The trio made eye contact with one another.
"We should probably get back to our common room," Hermione said, "It's getting late."
"No, don't run off. Forgive me," Lupin said, turning around, his eyes red, "I didn't mean to be rude. I just...miss my friend." He coughed, and sat down at the desk, forcing a brisk smile, "But it's not all bad."
"It's not?" Ron asked, mopily.
"No, of course not. You're all safe, for now. And tomorrow's Hogsmeade, isn't it?" Lupin said with a wink, "A whole twenty-four hours until you have to see him again."
"Finding the light in the darkness, eh?" Harry asked with a feeble grin. Lupin winced slightly at Harry's grin, and Harry realized he probably shouldn't have reminded him of James just now.
"So then," Lupin said, changing the subject, "It was Malfoy who gave them the uniform, and one of his hairs for the Polyjuice?"
"Actually, I don't think so," Harry said, frowning, "He seemed really surprised when he heard that there was a Death Eater in the school today – I think he thought it was just a Dementor attack."
"Well, his father could have gotten the hair easily enough," Hermione interjected thoughtfully, "From his mother – she could have found it in his room, or maybe a hairbrush he left at home. And the uniform could have been owl ordered from Madame Malkins. His mother could've just said she was ordering a new one for him."
"True," Lupin said, nodding, "Also, it seems unlikely that Voldemort would involve Draco Malfoy overmuch, especially with something so important. He is, after all, still a teenager."
"Oi!" Ron said, feigning offense, "We're teenagers!"
"Yes," Lupin said with a wink, "And thank your lucky stars. You might not believe me but these are the best years—"
"Right, so they keep tellin' us," Ron said, rolling his eyes.
"He did give his father the Gryffindor password, though," Hermione said, her eyes narrowed, "And tipped him off that Neville was the Secret Keeper. So let's not let him off the hook entirely."
"I still say Dumbledore's barmy to hold out any hope for that slimy git," Ron said bluntly, "But then, I've always said he was nuts. Brilliant, but barmy."
"So he enters the school as Malfoy," Lupin said, frowning in concentration, "And waits for the Dementor attack as a diversion. Then, he goes for Neville, questions him, and takes on his appearance...and after he's gotten all his answers, he sneaks into Gryffindor's common room and..."
"Makes a clean job of it," Harry muttered.
"But why did the Dementors kill Nott, anyway?" Ron asked, furrowing his brow, "If they were working together?"
"He failed," Lupin said, bluntly, "Failed in his mission. Dead men tell no tales, Ron. Voldemort didn't want to give us the chance to ask him any questions. And speaking of asking questions," Lupin asked Harry nervously, "Just how much did Neville tell him? You [I]have[/I] taken all the necessary precautions, haven't you?"
"He couldn't tell him too much," Harry said, "Neville still thought that he was the Secret Keeper – I never got the chance to tell him I'd switched to—"
"Stop!" Lupin said holding up a hand, "I don't want to know."
"Sorry," Harry said, "I never got the chance to tell him I'd switched. So he couldn't tell him the address, and he couldn't tell him who my Secret Keeper was."
Harry shuddered. He didn't want to think about what Nott had done to Neville – he must have panicked when he realized Neville didn't have the answers his master wanted...he would have done anything to get them...
"It must have been awful."
"Now listen, Harry, I know what you're thinking, and I can't let you keep blaming yourself for everything that happens around here," Lupin said, gently, "It's a bad habit. Neville understood the risks when he agreed. And I'm sure," he said delicately, staring fixedly at his desk, "That whoever you chose to be your Secret Keeper now, understands as well."
"What's going on with the Order?" Hermione asked nervously, anxious to change the subject. Harry winced as she shifted a bit closer to Ron, protectively.
"Well, Dumbledore has several of us on special assignments. Recon, or diplomatic, mainly," he said evasively, "That reminds me, Charlie won't be home for Christmas. And Hagrid, Firenze, and I are working this break, but I'll stop in from time to time. Oh," he added, sadly, "I think we know what happened to Kingsley."
"What happened?" Harry asked, his stomach dropping slightly – Lupin's voice didn't sound too encouraging.
"Well, suffice it to say, we know where Nott got the Snackbox."
"No!"
"Yes, I'm afraid so. Dumbledore finally asked at a general meeting if anyone in the Order had seen Kinglsey, and Fred and George said they'd seen him in the shop just a few days ago."
"He can't have...I mean, he's a good guy, right?" Ron asked nervously.
"I'm sure it's Death Eater's influence," Lupin said sadly, "Fred and George said he seemed distracted. Spoke as if he didn't know them. At the time, they just assumed he wanted to stay under cover. But more likely, he wasn't just distracted, his eyes were blank. It sounds like the Imperius to me."
"So what are you going to do now?" Harry asked.
"There's not much we can do, until he surfaces again. If he surfaces again," Lupin said quietly.
The four of them sat quietly for moment. Harry wondered just what he would do himself, if confronted with a Death Eater lurking in his friends' heads. He thought back to that very afternoon, when Nott had nearly killed him, in the guise of Neville...It was so surreal, he hadn't even thought to defend himself.
"Bill!" Ron shouted suddenly, straightening up in alarm, "We haven't heard from him in—"
"The Order has," Lupin said, with a smile, "He's on assignment with Fleur. No need to worry, they'll be home for Christmas. And your parents know, already, so best not let them know I told you."
"'They'll' be home for Christmas?" Harry asked, eager to shift the topic to something lighter, "Since when are they a 'they?'"
Lupin smiled, "I'm not sure I'm the one to tell you. Ron probably already knows more than I do."
Ron shrugged, "Bill's been screwing up the courage to ask her for a while now, but I never thought he would. Dunno, maybe they really will get married. Mum'll go bananas...doesn't care much for Fleur."
"Don't I remember someone telling Fleur Delacoeur that he was going to join the Chudley Cannons?" Harry asked, with a smirk, "Or was it 'world's youngest Minister of Magic?'"
"Shut up, Harry," Ron muttered through a grin, as he turned red, "That was ages ago."
"Well, I'm very pleased for Bill," Hermione sniffed.
Lupin laughed, and even though he was annoyed at Hermione's jealousy, Harry felt his spirits lift a little bit.
Just as they were leaving, Lupin called him back into the room.
"Sorry, I know this keeps happening to you lot, but I'd really like a word with Harry," he apologized.
"It's alright, we're used to it," Ron quipped.
"We'll meet you in the common room, Harry," Hermione said, with a smile and a wave. Harry felt his heart sink as Hermione grabbed Ron's hand.
"Okay," he managed, with a grin, "See you later."
After they'd left, Lupin eyed Harry strangely for a moment.
"What?" Harry asked, fearing that Lupin somehow sensed his discomfort with Ron and Hermione.
Lupin laughed quietly under his breath. "Nothing," he said softly, "You know, I always think you're exactly like your father, Harry, but maybe you're more like me than I realize."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry asked, with a grin. He had a feeling there was a story behind that comment.
Lupin waved him off, shaking his head, "Oh no, that's for another time, Harry. You know, you're going to think this makes me sound terribly old, but it's been a real pleasure to watch you grow up these past few years."
"It's been a pleasure to be [I]alive[/I], these past few years," Harry groused, "Hope I survive all this. Wouldn't want to disappoint."
Lupin laughed, "Come on now, you shouldn't say things like that. You've evaded death so many times, you don't want to jinx it now."
But they both knew Harry hadn't really been joking, and they sat in the quiet for a while, thinking back through the day's events.
"How are you doing?" Lupin asked, "With Sirius, I mean?"
Harry was both saddened and surprised to realize he didn't feel the accompanying restriction in his chest, or the smarting of his eyes at Sirius's name. For a moment, he wondered if he ought to, then realized that perhaps he really was moving on. He shrugged, "Better, I think. I'm still...I hate that it happened, but I can't change it now. I miss him."
Lupin smiled gently. "Better than me, then."
Harry shifted his weight to the other foot, awkwardly. "He was your friend. You knew him for longer."
Lupin nodded quietly. "You know, Harry, that I've told you...you don't have to be strong. You have people you can rely on."
Harry carefully avoided Lupin's eye. He could hear the wavering in his voice. Harry had a feeling Lupin was saying this more for himself than for his sake.
"Yeah," he said, "Same here. I mean, you don't have to be brave for me, or anything. I'll be okay."
Lupin nodded, and swallowed before he spoke.
"I'm sorry about all this," he said, with a chuckle, indicating his red eyes, "It's just this business with you nearly dying today, and Neville nearly dying, and Kingsley missing, or worse...Tonks is a wreck, you know. And...well...I got to thinking about...[I]my[/I] friends...especially..." Lupin interrupted himself quickly.
"And I'm just a bit—"
He broke off, and massaged his temples for a moment. When he looked up, Harry saw his scarred face was streaked with tears.
"He took them all away from me, Harry," he said quietly, as though realizing it for the first time, "I'm the only one [I]left![/I]"
Harry tried to think of something comforting to say, and remembered what Luna had told him.
"But...you'll see them again," he offered feebly.
"I see them every day," Lupin choked quietly, "In your face – But it's like having my nose pressed up against the glass...They were brilliant and beautiful and [I]good[/I]...and He stole them all."
He covered his face with his hands. Harry felt paralyzed – he had no idea what to do. He considered patting Lupin on the shoulder, but it seemed such thoroughly inadequate thing to do, it was almost ridiculous. Before he could decide what to say, Lupin took a great breath, and sat up.
"I'm sorry," he said, mopping his face, and sounding a bit like his old self, "I never intended for you to see that."
"It's fine," Harry said, still feeling somewhat frozen, "Really."
Lupin stood, and crossed over to the mirror that was hanging in the corner. He mopped his face one final time, and then turned to smile at Harry.
"You don't still happen to have that mirror, that Sirius gave you?"
"Oh, yes," Harry said, surprised that Lupin knew about it, "But it won't—"
"Work, I know," Lupin finished with a smile, "Just thought you'd like to have it. I've kept the other end, should you ever want to talk to me. We'll have to reenchant them, though. Sirius was the one who put the enchantment on them, and..."
He stopped himself, and smiled, "Have you read his letter, yet?"
Harry remembered with a slight jolt that Sirius had left a stack of parchments and a letter for him to read.
"No!" he said, eager to cheer Lupin up, "Shall I go get it? We can read it together."
Lupin smiled, and shook his head, "That's for you, Harry. Besides, I don't think that's a very good idea today, not for me. I just wanted to see how you were doing...and...well, I hope I didn't upset you."
He paused, chuckled to himself, "Sirius always said I took things too much to heart. I suppose I can be a bit melodramatic. You know if he saw me like this, he'd just laugh."
Harry smiled, and nodded.
"Go on, now," Lupin said, "Your friends are waiting. That's enough reminiscing for one day. I think I'm going to tidy up here and head down to the Three Broomsticks for a bit, instead of mope here all alone. The four of us used to go there all the time. Practically had to carry James home, most nights."
"You know," Harry said, with a grin, "You were still in school. That's against the law."
"And don't you forget it!" Lupin said, winking at Harry, "You lot behave yourselves at Hogsmeade tomorrow. And do be safe," he added seriously, "Stick together, and—"
"We'll be fine," Harry interrupted with a grin, "Really."
Lupin nodded, and paused for a moment.
"Enjoy them, Harry."
Harry smiled by way of an answer, and with a final wink, Lupin set about straightening up the classroom.
Later that night, Harry sat in bed with Sirius's papers still tied in a neat bundle in his lap. For a while he seriously thought about reading them. He finally decided though, that it wasn't the right time. He wanted to save them, somehow, for the perfect moment. He decided to put them back in his trunk. Harry heard Ron's mattress creaking as he rolled over – he was muttering in his sleep again. He grinned to himself, as he shut the trunk, and climbed back into bed. He was about to pull the curtains closed, when he glanced at Neville's bed, still empty. He realized with a start that they'd left the candy out on the bench in the hallway...
"Madame Pomfrey will have realized," Harry thought, "Or Dumbledore. We'll pick him something up in Hogsmeade tomorrow."
For a while, Harry thought about Draco Malfoy. Yet however much he tried to screw up his hatred, he just couldn't seem to do it. He'd come so close himself, to...
...but he pushed that away. He knew that Draco might never be a "good guy," but he was amazed to find himself hoping that he would be alright, that he'd figure everything out before it was too late.
Harry heaved a sigh and settled in to bed. He found his mind wandering to his friends, and also to Lupin, and his friends. It had been a very difficult day, but it had also reminded him of what was really important.
He smiled a half-sad, half-happy smile, and nodded off to sleep.
"It can wait," he said in his gravelly voice, his face contorted between fear and a sneer.
"Nonsense," Dumbledore said in a light, friendly voice, settling himself comfortably on the hospital bed as though he were about to hear a long story, "I think it's high time we got to the bottom of this."
Filch seemed to regain some of his usual charm, and dragged Malfoy up to his feet.
"Thought you'd be interested to know," he said, "I found this one in 'Ogsmeade today. Before the Quidditch match."
Harry narrowed his eyes – that wasn't possible.
"I [I]wasn't[/I] in Hogsmeade!" Draco said petulantly, pointing at Harry, "[I]He'll[/I] tell you! I was at breakfast today! And I went straight to the Quidditch pitch! Even McGonagall saw it!"
"The hair!" Hermione said, "It was you!"
"What hair?" Draco asked, angrily, "What has gotten into everyone? You'd think no one had seen a Dementor before..."
"Draco," Professor Dumbledore said sternly, "Have you been in contact with your father recently?" Harry was surprised to hear the Headmaster use his first name.
Malfoy hesitated ever so slightly.
"No," he said firmly, "And if I did, I wouldn't be likely to tell anyone about it, would I?"
"Of course not," Professor Dumbledore said evenly, "But hypothetically speaking, if you [I]had[/I] spoken to him...might he have asked for certain information? The Gryffindor password for example?"
Malfoy's face turned slightly pale. Hermione stood, her fists balled.
"You foul, despicable, slippery little –"
"That will do, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said, with a friendly but curt nod.
"And the hair?" Harry asked angrily, "And the uniform? You gave them to your father as well, didn't you?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about," Malfoy spat with disgust.
"Mr. Malfoy, you understand, I hope, the seriousness of this situation. If, in fact, you aided a Death Eater in entering the school –"
Harry was surprised to note that Malfoy's eyes suddenly went wide, and he looked over at Neville – he seemed to have panic written on his face.
"Maybe...he really didn't know," Harry begrudgingly admitted, "Maybe he was being used by Death Eaters just as much as any of us."
"Yes, Mr. Malfoy. The Death Eaters were here today. And if, in fact, you aided a Death Eater in entering the school, it would be a serious violation of wizarding law. I would not be able to protect you, Mr. Malfoy. You would be expelled, your wand would be snapped, and you would be forced to stand trial before the Wizengamot. You might even be sent to Azkaban, for a period of time," Dumbledore added, peering at Malfoy sternly over the rim of his spectacles, "I think it would behoove you to be honest with me at this point."
Malfoy squirmed uncomfortably.
"He's my father."
"So I take it you have been in contact with him?" Professor Dumbledore pried.
Malfoy scowled at the floor, panic flitting behind his poker face. Harry had a feeling he wanted to get himself off the hook, but didn't dare incriminate his father.
"All I'm saying, is that if he were to ask me for something...something like the Gryffindor password...I'd give it to him."
Harry smiled grimly. That was it – they had a confession. Malfoy would be expelled.
"Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore said, his voice gaining resonance and volume, "Do you fully understand your actions? Because of you, several students nearly died today...Did you even pause to think [I]why[/I] your father wanted that information?"
"What am I supposed to do about it?" burst Malfoy, angrily, "He's my father! And when my father asks a question, you give him an answer, not more questions! What do you think would happen if I refused?"
Harry was horrified to see the emotion on Draco's face. He didn't want to see Draco like this – not now, not ever. He had to hate him – it was absolutely necessary that he hate Draco Malfoy with all his might...Malfoy. Malfoy, not Draco. He would never call him Draco.
"Besides!" Malfoy said, drawing himself up taller, "Who says my father [I]is[/I] a Death Eater?"
"Draco," Dumbledore said, his eyes surprisingly tender, "You and I both know perfectly well that your father [I]is[/I] a Death Eater. I've seen him with Lord Voldemort himself. He was tried, and put in Azkaban for months—"
"That's a [I]lie![/I]" Draco said, his eyes flashing, "He was acting under the Imperius! You and your [I]favorites[/I]," he fumed, waving his hand at Harry, Ron and Hermione, "Think that unless we worship the ground you walk on, we must be Death Eaters! Well I'm never going to join your little [I]fan club.[/I] I'm never going to kiss the ground that scar-head walks on! And I'm not going to turn in my own father just to keep you happy! Expell me if you want to, I don't care."
Dumbledore sighed deeply.
"I am assigning you a month of detention," he said, "You are also banned from playing Quidditch for the rest of the year, and all Hogsmeade visits. I have no wish to expell you Mr. Malfoy, or turn you over to the Ministry. But if you insist on this misguided loyalty to your father, I can foresee no other alternative."
Having escaped expulsion for the second time that year, Malfoy stood a bit straighter, smirking.
"Yes, [I]sir[/I]," he said, with just a hint of derision, "Is that all? May I go collect my punishment now?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact," Dumbledore said, and Harry thought he saw a slight twinkle in Dumbledore's eye, "Why don't you go to Professor Snape, and explain exactly what we've discussed here today. You'll be serving your detentions with him."
Malfoy's face blanched slightly, and his arrogant posture deflated.
"Apparently he's not Snape's favorite anymore," Harry smirked to himself.
His smirk faded slightly as he recalled what Snape had said on the Quidditch pitch, after they'd found Hermione...that he would be "appropriately punished." Just what had Snape done to Malfoy that had him so scared?
Filch led Malfoy out of the room, with a smug grin on his gnarled face – he didn't care too much about the logistics – Harry was confident he hadn't understood most of what was just said. So long as someone was getting punished, he was content.
"I think," Professor Dumbledore said, "It would probably be best if the three of you found Professor Lupin. He's been worried sick."
"Headmaster, that's the second time Malfoy [I]hasn't[/I] been expelled!" Ron interjected hotly, "If any of us tried something like that –"
"Yes, Mr. Weasley, but it wasn't any of you – it was Mr. Malfoy. What do you think is the first thing that would happen once he was expelled?" Dumbledore asked wearily, "His father would recruit him to the Death Eaters in an instant. He nearly has already, and he bears enough of a grudge against us as it is – being expelled would be all the convincing he'd need to join the Death Eaters, if only to have the opportunity to strike back at the school, at me, or at the three of you. Besides which, if his father failed to convince him, he would simply use other, less legal means of persuasion. No, at Hogwarts, at the very least, I am able to watch over him as best I can. Though it seems," he added, his face careworn, "That I have failed in that aim as well."
Ron shuffled uncomfortably, "I didn't mean...Malfoy's just an evil twit, sir. It's not your fault."
"Alas, I fear that is where you're wrong, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore said with a world-weary sigh, "You see, Draco Malfoy is caught between a rock and a hard place, so to speak. Contrary to what you might think, he hates Voldemort, the Death Eaters, and his father almost as much as he hates all of us."
Harry wrinkled his nose doubtfully. "If he hates the Death Eaters so much, why is he so keen to help them? Besides, all they've done is try to get rid of all of us for the past six years. Seems they're doing him a favor."
But Dumbledore shook his head, and continued, "Voldemort stole his father away. He knows that there is no room in his Lucius Malfoy's heart to ever love him, that Voldemort has precluded that possibility, and his mother's heart is completely consumed with Lucius. Draco has always believed that he can never be loved by another human being. In its place, like his father, he prizes power and respect above all else. All Draco can hope for is to make his father proud. And as he alternately fails and succeeds in that goal, he both loves and hates himself, and loves and hates his father."
"So let him go to an Observer!" Ron retorted, "And leave us the hell alone!"
"Observer?" Harry asked.
"Oh, sorry mate," Ron added, "I keep forgetting."
"Someone who looks at your thoughts and tells you what they see," Hermione explained swiftly, "Like a magical psychologist, of sorts."
"It's not so much what he's [I]thinking,[/I]" Harry said impatiently, "So much as what he's [I]doing[/I]."
"Yet every action is the end result of a thought," Dumbledore said, with a glance at Harry's shoulder. Harry lowered his head. He now knew only too well how true that was.
"And for Draco Malfoy, those thoughts are deeply bitter and misguided. He draws closer and closer to a point of no return, and it frightens him at the same time. Yet even now you see how loyal he is to his father – pride, power, and loyalty are all he has ever known. I fear he will never separate his own destiny from that of his family's before it is too late. Already he has come close to Azkaban several times this year. Once he is in Ministry hands, I can't hold out much hope that he will ever change for the better. The hurt he suppresses will become rage against the world at large, and he will never gain satisfaction."
The infirmary was quiet for a while. Harry knew that Professor Dumbledore cared about the students, and wanted to see them succeed – but he never imagined that he expended too much worry over the likes of Draco Malfoy.
"I am deeply sorry to the three of you that Mr. Malfoy has caused you such pain this year. But you see, it really is for the best that he remain here. I fear the damage he might do would triple if he were expelled."
"We understand, Professor," Hermione said, "We'll go find Professor Lupin...we don't mean to keep you."
She subtly nudged Ron towards the door, and Harry stood to follow.
"Harry? A word before you go?"
Hermione successfully pushed Ron out into the hallway.
"Yes, Professor?"
"Remember – you always have a choice," Dumbledore said with a nod, "It is this fact that Mr. Malfoy has forgotten. Perhaps...you can find a way to remind him, where I have been unable to do so."
Harry felt a sudden burst of helpless annoyance. Just what else was he expected to do this year? Kill Voldemort, unite the houses, "heal the Divide," whatever that meant, and now, ask Draco to play nicely with others?
Harry sighed, "I'll try, sir."
Dumbledore nodded, and Harry went to meet Ron and Hermione in the hallway.
"Miserable, arrogant little milksop," Lupin said fiercely, "I'd like to teach him some manners."
"Err, you're a Hogwarts Professor...Professor," Hermione interjected timidly.
"I'm also Harry's...Well, I don't know what I am specifically, but it's reason enough to trounce the little berk. Let Dumbledore fire me. Nobody else will take this bloody post."
Ron snorted gleefully, and Hermione shot him a glare.
"Sorry, it's just funny to hear a Professor talk about thumping Malfoy," he said, a dreamy look in his eyes.
"Professor Snape would take this ruddy post," Hermione reminded Lupin, "And that's why we need you here. Besides, you're the best Defense teacher we've had yet, and we're ages behind."
Lupin sighed dejectedly, and sat at his desk, absentmindedly shooting some sparks at a grindylow, which had been creeping its webbed fingers over the edge of its tank.
"I know," he said, "It's a few days until full moon, and I'm irritable enough as it is without that..."
He interrupted himself with a deep breath, and smiled gently at Harry.
"Not setting a terribly good example, am I? Sorry."
Harry grinned, "Not to worry. We've been wanting to trounce him for ages."
"You nearly did, back there," Ron said, impressed, "That makes two of us today that've nearly beaten him to a pulp."
"I [I]don't[/I] think that's something we ought to be proud of, necessarily," Hermione said severely.
"Come off it, you're the one that hit him in third year."
"Yes," Hermione said, staring reminiscently over their heads, "That [I]did[/I] feel good."
But Harry remained quiet, grinning vaguely. Neither of them remembered...neither knew just how close he'd come to...
He pushed it out of his mind.
"Have you pieced together exactly what happened yet?" Lupin asked, "You've seen the Headmaster more recently than I have."
"Well, Malfoy was seen in Hogsmeade this morning," Hermione said, "Which is impossible – he was at breakfast. So we know that Nott was posing as Malfoy to get into the school."
"He got in through the Shrieking Shack," Harry added quietly, "We think Pettigrew must have told him."
Lupin's face clouded over at the sound of the name.
"They ought to be in Azkaban," Lupin said, bitterly, "How [I]ironic.[/I] Sirius spends nearly his entire adulthood in Azkaban for something he never did, and meanwhile Malfoys one and two are running amok. Not to mention Pettigrew."
He spat the name out, his face contorted into a scowl. Suddenly, he stood, and turned to face the blackboard on the pretense of erasing some of the day's notes. The trio made eye contact with one another.
"We should probably get back to our common room," Hermione said, "It's getting late."
"No, don't run off. Forgive me," Lupin said, turning around, his eyes red, "I didn't mean to be rude. I just...miss my friend." He coughed, and sat down at the desk, forcing a brisk smile, "But it's not all bad."
"It's not?" Ron asked, mopily.
"No, of course not. You're all safe, for now. And tomorrow's Hogsmeade, isn't it?" Lupin said with a wink, "A whole twenty-four hours until you have to see him again."
"Finding the light in the darkness, eh?" Harry asked with a feeble grin. Lupin winced slightly at Harry's grin, and Harry realized he probably shouldn't have reminded him of James just now.
"So then," Lupin said, changing the subject, "It was Malfoy who gave them the uniform, and one of his hairs for the Polyjuice?"
"Actually, I don't think so," Harry said, frowning, "He seemed really surprised when he heard that there was a Death Eater in the school today – I think he thought it was just a Dementor attack."
"Well, his father could have gotten the hair easily enough," Hermione interjected thoughtfully, "From his mother – she could have found it in his room, or maybe a hairbrush he left at home. And the uniform could have been owl ordered from Madame Malkins. His mother could've just said she was ordering a new one for him."
"True," Lupin said, nodding, "Also, it seems unlikely that Voldemort would involve Draco Malfoy overmuch, especially with something so important. He is, after all, still a teenager."
"Oi!" Ron said, feigning offense, "We're teenagers!"
"Yes," Lupin said with a wink, "And thank your lucky stars. You might not believe me but these are the best years—"
"Right, so they keep tellin' us," Ron said, rolling his eyes.
"He did give his father the Gryffindor password, though," Hermione said, her eyes narrowed, "And tipped him off that Neville was the Secret Keeper. So let's not let him off the hook entirely."
"I still say Dumbledore's barmy to hold out any hope for that slimy git," Ron said bluntly, "But then, I've always said he was nuts. Brilliant, but barmy."
"So he enters the school as Malfoy," Lupin said, frowning in concentration, "And waits for the Dementor attack as a diversion. Then, he goes for Neville, questions him, and takes on his appearance...and after he's gotten all his answers, he sneaks into Gryffindor's common room and..."
"Makes a clean job of it," Harry muttered.
"But why did the Dementors kill Nott, anyway?" Ron asked, furrowing his brow, "If they were working together?"
"He failed," Lupin said, bluntly, "Failed in his mission. Dead men tell no tales, Ron. Voldemort didn't want to give us the chance to ask him any questions. And speaking of asking questions," Lupin asked Harry nervously, "Just how much did Neville tell him? You [I]have[/I] taken all the necessary precautions, haven't you?"
"He couldn't tell him too much," Harry said, "Neville still thought that he was the Secret Keeper – I never got the chance to tell him I'd switched to—"
"Stop!" Lupin said holding up a hand, "I don't want to know."
"Sorry," Harry said, "I never got the chance to tell him I'd switched. So he couldn't tell him the address, and he couldn't tell him who my Secret Keeper was."
Harry shuddered. He didn't want to think about what Nott had done to Neville – he must have panicked when he realized Neville didn't have the answers his master wanted...he would have done anything to get them...
"It must have been awful."
"Now listen, Harry, I know what you're thinking, and I can't let you keep blaming yourself for everything that happens around here," Lupin said, gently, "It's a bad habit. Neville understood the risks when he agreed. And I'm sure," he said delicately, staring fixedly at his desk, "That whoever you chose to be your Secret Keeper now, understands as well."
"What's going on with the Order?" Hermione asked nervously, anxious to change the subject. Harry winced as she shifted a bit closer to Ron, protectively.
"Well, Dumbledore has several of us on special assignments. Recon, or diplomatic, mainly," he said evasively, "That reminds me, Charlie won't be home for Christmas. And Hagrid, Firenze, and I are working this break, but I'll stop in from time to time. Oh," he added, sadly, "I think we know what happened to Kingsley."
"What happened?" Harry asked, his stomach dropping slightly – Lupin's voice didn't sound too encouraging.
"Well, suffice it to say, we know where Nott got the Snackbox."
"No!"
"Yes, I'm afraid so. Dumbledore finally asked at a general meeting if anyone in the Order had seen Kinglsey, and Fred and George said they'd seen him in the shop just a few days ago."
"He can't have...I mean, he's a good guy, right?" Ron asked nervously.
"I'm sure it's Death Eater's influence," Lupin said sadly, "Fred and George said he seemed distracted. Spoke as if he didn't know them. At the time, they just assumed he wanted to stay under cover. But more likely, he wasn't just distracted, his eyes were blank. It sounds like the Imperius to me."
"So what are you going to do now?" Harry asked.
"There's not much we can do, until he surfaces again. If he surfaces again," Lupin said quietly.
The four of them sat quietly for moment. Harry wondered just what he would do himself, if confronted with a Death Eater lurking in his friends' heads. He thought back to that very afternoon, when Nott had nearly killed him, in the guise of Neville...It was so surreal, he hadn't even thought to defend himself.
"Bill!" Ron shouted suddenly, straightening up in alarm, "We haven't heard from him in—"
"The Order has," Lupin said, with a smile, "He's on assignment with Fleur. No need to worry, they'll be home for Christmas. And your parents know, already, so best not let them know I told you."
"'They'll' be home for Christmas?" Harry asked, eager to shift the topic to something lighter, "Since when are they a 'they?'"
Lupin smiled, "I'm not sure I'm the one to tell you. Ron probably already knows more than I do."
Ron shrugged, "Bill's been screwing up the courage to ask her for a while now, but I never thought he would. Dunno, maybe they really will get married. Mum'll go bananas...doesn't care much for Fleur."
"Don't I remember someone telling Fleur Delacoeur that he was going to join the Chudley Cannons?" Harry asked, with a smirk, "Or was it 'world's youngest Minister of Magic?'"
"Shut up, Harry," Ron muttered through a grin, as he turned red, "That was ages ago."
"Well, I'm very pleased for Bill," Hermione sniffed.
Lupin laughed, and even though he was annoyed at Hermione's jealousy, Harry felt his spirits lift a little bit.
Just as they were leaving, Lupin called him back into the room.
"Sorry, I know this keeps happening to you lot, but I'd really like a word with Harry," he apologized.
"It's alright, we're used to it," Ron quipped.
"We'll meet you in the common room, Harry," Hermione said, with a smile and a wave. Harry felt his heart sink as Hermione grabbed Ron's hand.
"Okay," he managed, with a grin, "See you later."
After they'd left, Lupin eyed Harry strangely for a moment.
"What?" Harry asked, fearing that Lupin somehow sensed his discomfort with Ron and Hermione.
Lupin laughed quietly under his breath. "Nothing," he said softly, "You know, I always think you're exactly like your father, Harry, but maybe you're more like me than I realize."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry asked, with a grin. He had a feeling there was a story behind that comment.
Lupin waved him off, shaking his head, "Oh no, that's for another time, Harry. You know, you're going to think this makes me sound terribly old, but it's been a real pleasure to watch you grow up these past few years."
"It's been a pleasure to be [I]alive[/I], these past few years," Harry groused, "Hope I survive all this. Wouldn't want to disappoint."
Lupin laughed, "Come on now, you shouldn't say things like that. You've evaded death so many times, you don't want to jinx it now."
But they both knew Harry hadn't really been joking, and they sat in the quiet for a while, thinking back through the day's events.
"How are you doing?" Lupin asked, "With Sirius, I mean?"
Harry was both saddened and surprised to realize he didn't feel the accompanying restriction in his chest, or the smarting of his eyes at Sirius's name. For a moment, he wondered if he ought to, then realized that perhaps he really was moving on. He shrugged, "Better, I think. I'm still...I hate that it happened, but I can't change it now. I miss him."
Lupin smiled gently. "Better than me, then."
Harry shifted his weight to the other foot, awkwardly. "He was your friend. You knew him for longer."
Lupin nodded quietly. "You know, Harry, that I've told you...you don't have to be strong. You have people you can rely on."
Harry carefully avoided Lupin's eye. He could hear the wavering in his voice. Harry had a feeling Lupin was saying this more for himself than for his sake.
"Yeah," he said, "Same here. I mean, you don't have to be brave for me, or anything. I'll be okay."
Lupin nodded, and swallowed before he spoke.
"I'm sorry about all this," he said, with a chuckle, indicating his red eyes, "It's just this business with you nearly dying today, and Neville nearly dying, and Kingsley missing, or worse...Tonks is a wreck, you know. And...well...I got to thinking about...[I]my[/I] friends...especially..." Lupin interrupted himself quickly.
"And I'm just a bit—"
He broke off, and massaged his temples for a moment. When he looked up, Harry saw his scarred face was streaked with tears.
"He took them all away from me, Harry," he said quietly, as though realizing it for the first time, "I'm the only one [I]left![/I]"
Harry tried to think of something comforting to say, and remembered what Luna had told him.
"But...you'll see them again," he offered feebly.
"I see them every day," Lupin choked quietly, "In your face – But it's like having my nose pressed up against the glass...They were brilliant and beautiful and [I]good[/I]...and He stole them all."
He covered his face with his hands. Harry felt paralyzed – he had no idea what to do. He considered patting Lupin on the shoulder, but it seemed such thoroughly inadequate thing to do, it was almost ridiculous. Before he could decide what to say, Lupin took a great breath, and sat up.
"I'm sorry," he said, mopping his face, and sounding a bit like his old self, "I never intended for you to see that."
"It's fine," Harry said, still feeling somewhat frozen, "Really."
Lupin stood, and crossed over to the mirror that was hanging in the corner. He mopped his face one final time, and then turned to smile at Harry.
"You don't still happen to have that mirror, that Sirius gave you?"
"Oh, yes," Harry said, surprised that Lupin knew about it, "But it won't—"
"Work, I know," Lupin finished with a smile, "Just thought you'd like to have it. I've kept the other end, should you ever want to talk to me. We'll have to reenchant them, though. Sirius was the one who put the enchantment on them, and..."
He stopped himself, and smiled, "Have you read his letter, yet?"
Harry remembered with a slight jolt that Sirius had left a stack of parchments and a letter for him to read.
"No!" he said, eager to cheer Lupin up, "Shall I go get it? We can read it together."
Lupin smiled, and shook his head, "That's for you, Harry. Besides, I don't think that's a very good idea today, not for me. I just wanted to see how you were doing...and...well, I hope I didn't upset you."
He paused, chuckled to himself, "Sirius always said I took things too much to heart. I suppose I can be a bit melodramatic. You know if he saw me like this, he'd just laugh."
Harry smiled, and nodded.
"Go on, now," Lupin said, "Your friends are waiting. That's enough reminiscing for one day. I think I'm going to tidy up here and head down to the Three Broomsticks for a bit, instead of mope here all alone. The four of us used to go there all the time. Practically had to carry James home, most nights."
"You know," Harry said, with a grin, "You were still in school. That's against the law."
"And don't you forget it!" Lupin said, winking at Harry, "You lot behave yourselves at Hogsmeade tomorrow. And do be safe," he added seriously, "Stick together, and—"
"We'll be fine," Harry interrupted with a grin, "Really."
Lupin nodded, and paused for a moment.
"Enjoy them, Harry."
Harry smiled by way of an answer, and with a final wink, Lupin set about straightening up the classroom.
Later that night, Harry sat in bed with Sirius's papers still tied in a neat bundle in his lap. For a while he seriously thought about reading them. He finally decided though, that it wasn't the right time. He wanted to save them, somehow, for the perfect moment. He decided to put them back in his trunk. Harry heard Ron's mattress creaking as he rolled over – he was muttering in his sleep again. He grinned to himself, as he shut the trunk, and climbed back into bed. He was about to pull the curtains closed, when he glanced at Neville's bed, still empty. He realized with a start that they'd left the candy out on the bench in the hallway...
"Madame Pomfrey will have realized," Harry thought, "Or Dumbledore. We'll pick him something up in Hogsmeade tomorrow."
For a while, Harry thought about Draco Malfoy. Yet however much he tried to screw up his hatred, he just couldn't seem to do it. He'd come so close himself, to...
...but he pushed that away. He knew that Draco might never be a "good guy," but he was amazed to find himself hoping that he would be alright, that he'd figure everything out before it was too late.
Harry heaved a sigh and settled in to bed. He found his mind wandering to his friends, and also to Lupin, and his friends. It had been a very difficult day, but it had also reminded him of what was really important.
He smiled a half-sad, half-happy smile, and nodded off to sleep.
