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A/N: Pray thou forgivest me, my lowly subjects--er, I mean loyal fans--for the dire delay in posting of this most abominably late chapter. I'm now in the new condo--It's mine all mine!!! Now if it would only get cold enough in Dallas to justify a fire in the fireplace...

A/N #2: The Gender Genie is: WRONG!

Chapter 19

      "Enough!" Madame Pomfrey's hiss cut through the voices that sought to out-shout one another, as though volume would win the dispute faster than valid points of argument. "I will not have my hospital, or my patient, disturbed by all this bickering. Take it elsewhere if you must, but I will not have it here."

      Petunia Dursley thrust her horsy face forward.

      "Now see here-"

      Poppy slashed the air with her hand. "No, you see here. This is my area of expertise, and I am telling you, as one who has treated more injuries, curses, and illnesses on that boy than any other person alive. If you take him away from Hogwarts, you will be sentencing him to death."

      "Surely the doctors at St. Mungo's-" Fudge countered.

      "Are the best in the world, no doubt," Pomfrey cut in, "but they are not here, close to the antidote. And they can do no more for him that I'm doing already."

      Cornelius Fudge patted the air in a "there-there" motion. The condescending gesture raised Poppy's professional hackles even more.

      "You are a competent medi-witch, certainly, else you would not be responsible for the care of so many of our children, but surely St. Mungo's could do more for the lad than you can here. It stands to reason-"

      Albus Dumbledore stepped forward and said, "The recovery party will be back before sunset with the Dawn's Glory. Whatever else you might think of Professor Snape, you cannot deny that he is a Master of Potions and one of the few wizards in the world who can brew the antidote to this curse."

      "Let him brew the antidote here, then." Fudge attempted a desperate compromise. "He can take it to the boy in London."

      "There would not be enough time. For the love of Merlin, Cornelius, you must think this through. If you take Harry away, we won't be able to get it to him in time. He will die."

      "One hour." Molly Weasley pointed to the snow-lined windows, toward the low-riding sun. "It's only one hour until sunset. Wait until then. If they haven't returned at that point, it will be too late and it won't matter where he rests."

      "One hour. That sounds reasonable," Fudge said.

      Vernon Dursley bellowed, "Not to me. I want that boy moved. Now. This instant, do you here?"

      "Dursley-"

      "Am I or am I not the boy's legal guardian?" the Muggle said. "Well?"

      "You are," Albus admitted. The "unfortunately" went unvoiced but heard by those present nevertheless.

      "Then as his legal guardian, I say move him to your finest medical facility, wherever in the world that might be."

      Fudge raised beseeching eyes to his old friend and held out his arms in surrender.

      "Albus, what can I do? They are his guardians. They have the final say in this matter." Fudge sighed. He wiped his hands on his robes even as he wiped himself clean of the responsibility. "We cannot go against the express wishes of his guardians. Harry Potter will be moved immediately to St. Mungo's where I will personally see to it that he gets the best of care for as long as the poor boy lives."

      Pomfrey deliberately placed herself between the other adults and her patient's bed. She crossed her arms over her chest, wand in hand, and stared straight into the eyes of Cornelius Fudge.

      "He stays right here."

      Fudge's voice dripped with unctuous cordiality. "Madame Pomfrey. Surely you don't mean to-"

      "I most certainly do. You will not remove that boy from my care until every shred of hope for an antidote is lost."

      Vernon took a single step forward. "You have no say-"

      Pomfrey's arm shot out. Her wand tip stabbed the air, pointed directly at Vernon Dursley's throat. His adam's apple bobbled with each convulsive swallow. A visible shudder ran from foot to crown, jiggling his flabby flesh like a tidal wave flowing across a surf.

      "This gives me every say," she said.

      "Albus," Fudge pleaded, "do something."

      "What would you have me do, Cornelius? Fight her? I'm afraid I cannot do that." Dumbledore stepped up to Pomfrey's left side. "You see, I happen to agree with her. In any confrontation I would, however reluctantly, stand at her side."

      McGonagall drew her own wand. The Master of Transfiguration moved to fill the space on the medi-witch's right side.

      "As would I," she said.

      Fudge sputtered and stared from one grimly determined face to another.

      "Now see here! Dumbledore! McGonagall! You can't win. Persist in this--this stubborn rebellion, and I will have no choice but to summon the aurors."

      "If you do that, Fudge," Arthur Weasley said even as he and his wife added their presence to the human barrier, "I will make certain the entire wizarding world sees you as the one responsible for his death. Not the Death Eaters who cast the curse. Not the Dursleys. You."

      The Minister's mouth dropped further open. He opened and closed it three times before any sound would emerge. His first words were more sputter than speech.

      "You wouldn't dare-"

      "I may not be in the upper levels of the Ministry, but I do carry a fair amount of power and influence in my own right, enough to bring every eye to bear upon you. I will not allow the details of this atrocity to remain secret. The wizarding world will know who ordered The Boy Who Lived removed from the one area where a possible cure might be found. The entire wizarding world--and every voting witch or wizard in it--will know every sordid detail of this tragedy."

      "But--his guardians--"

      "As Minister of Magic, you can overrule them," Dumbledore said. "You have the power to assume responsibility for the boy's welfare. Use it, Cornelius. It is your only hope of coming through this scandal intact."

      "If you try it," Vernon vowed, "I will hound you through every wizard court I possibly can. I might even take it into our real courts, as well."

      Fudge gulped like a boated fish. "What?"

      The Minister paled to the color of curdled milk. Dursley sensed a weakness and pounced.

      "You heard me. How would you like to be the one responsible for exposing your whole, sordid, tatty little community to the rest of the world?"

###

      Two pale faces peered around the edge of the shielding curtain. Before them, a distinct battle line had been drawn between the Muggles and the Hogwarts wizards, with the Minister of Magic caught dithering between them. Fudge stumbled back and forth, as though drawn by strings toward each argument point as it was made.

      "If Fudge calls the aurors," Ron Weasley said, "this could get dicey." He looked around their end of the hospital wing as though some miracle escape route would suddenly appear. "Any suggestions?"

      "We can't let them take Potter away," Draco answered. "Any chance he has is here at Hogwarts."

      "If only we knew how to apparate."

      "It wouldn't work inside Hogwarts' defenses, remember? We've both heard Granger say it often enough. You can't apparate on school grounds."

      A hazy glaze filled Ron Weasley's eyes. "We can't . . ."

      Malfoy blinked. "What?"

      Ron spoke aloud, more to himself than to his companion. Voicing his thoughts gave them more depth.

      "House elves can move about the castle despite the anti-apparition barriers." A dawning expression of hope brought color to the skin beneath a wealth of freckles. "Dobby could take Harry someplace where Fudge and the others can't find him."

      "Dobby? Our old house elf?" Draco said. "Father said he died."

      Ron shook his head. "Harry tricked Lucius Malfoy into giving him a sock back at the end of second year. Dobby is free. Dumbledore gave him a job here at the school."

      "Your idea is insane, Weasley, but it just might work." Draco turned toward a bit of empty space and called softly, "Dobby. Come here."

      A haze of silver smoke coalesced into a wrinkled, familiar form. Dobby the house elf stood before them, clad in a maroon sweater and pink exercise leggings. A rainbow-striped muffler wound a half-dozen times around his throat; even so, its tasseled ends trailed to the floor both in front and behind. On his head he wore a blue-plaid knit cap complete with frazzled pompom and holes for his oversized ears. Fuzzy white bunny slippers covered his oversized feet.

      Black mourning bands encircled the elf's arms. Large round eyes, liquid with emotion, tipped up.

      "Dobby is here, sirs. How can he serve you?"

      "We need your help, Dobby," Ron said. "Harry needs your help."

      "Dobby heard what happened that night in the Dark Forest. He has been most aggrieved, sir. If there is anything Dobby can do to help Harry Potter, you have but to ask."

      Fudge's voice rose over Madame Pomfrey's continued arguments. "Move out of the way, all of you. This rebellion is insane. I have no choice but to do as his guardians wish. Move or I will call the aurors and have you all arrested!"

      "No time for long explanations." Ron knelt in front of the trembling elf. "They want to take Harry to St. Mungo's. This would be bad."

      The elf twisted the forward-flowing end of his muffler into a tight knot. He shuffled from one bunny-slippered foot to the other.

      "Dobby doesn't understand, sir. St. Mungo's is a fine hospital. Dobby knows some of the house elves who work there. They would take good care of Harry Potter."

      "But the only cure is here, at Hogwarts," Draco said. "If they take Potter away, we'd never get it to him in time. Potter has to stay at Hogwarts until after sundown."

      Dobby studied Draco Malfoy with a suspicious eye before turning to Ron Weasley. "Is this true, sir?"

      "Yes, Dobby. It is."

      The house elf turned his back to them and gave the adults a particularly vicious glare.

      "Dobby will stop them."

      "No, elf," Draco objected. "We don't want you to fight. We want you to move Potter to another location. Get him away. Hide him somewhere in the school until Professor Snape and the others get back with the ingredient they need for the antidote. Can you do that?"

      Dobby nodded, his large ears flapping. "Dobby will do it, sir. Dobby will hide Harry Potter until you call him back."

      Ron moved to the edge of the bed and sandwiched Harry's hand between his own. "Take me, too."

      Draco stepped back to distance himself from the transferring magic.

      "I'll stay here and keep an eye on things."

      Ron nodded. "Call for Dobby when Snape has the antidote ready."

      Malfoy studied the unconscious nemesis. As the trio--Dobby, Weasley, and Potter--disappeared in a swirl of silver mist, along with the bed and the side table lined with medicines, he whispered, "Take care of him, Weasley."

TBC