An opportunity came sooner than he expected.
After they finished talking, Sirius and Lupin left so that he could rest. He was certain that he wouldn't be able to fall asleep after everything that had happened, but within a few minutes, he was out cold. When he awoke again, Dumbledore was sitting at his bedside.
"Professor Dumbledore, sir!" He struggled to sit up, groping for his glasses as he did so. "What are you doing here?"
"There's no need to get up, Harry," the aged wizard said kindly. "Please stay as you are. As you can see, I've been reinstated as headmaster. I came because I wanted to talk with you, but Poppy was adamant that I waited until you woke up."
Madam Pomfrey swept up to them. "You may be headmaster, Dumbledore," she said as she began to examine Harry, "but when you are in the hospital wing, I have authority." She looked pointedly at Dumbledore. "And please call me Madam Pomfrey in front of the students."
"Yes, of course," Dumbledore said, looking decidedly cowed.
"How do you feel, Harry?" she asked. "Try moving a bit and see how it feels."
Harry hesitantly lifted his arm and flexed it. "It's still a bit sore," he told her, "but not as bad as before."
"I see," she scribbled something hastily on her chart. "That's good. I think that in two days' time, you should be ready to be released."
"Thank you, Madam Pomfrey," Dumbledore said, a clear note of dismissal in his voice.
She put her hands on her hips in a gesture of annoyance. "And I suppose that you'll want to talk privately as well?"
"Yes, if you would be so kind."
Harry hid a smile as the mediwitch retreated from the room with another huff of indignation. Once she was gone, Dumbledore reached into his sleeve and pulled out the orb from the Department of Mysteries.
His blue eyes were unusually serious as he gazed at Harry. "I suppose that you have many questions, Harry, and I believe that it's time you learned the answers. There's much to tell…where to begin…"
"Professor Dumbledore—I'm sorry for interrupting—but could you tell me about Draco first, please?"
Dumbledore glanced towards Draco's bed. "Mr. Malfoy?"
"Yes, sir…is he really in the Order?"
Dumbledore looked at him for a long moment. "I see. Yes…I suppose it would come as a shock since you didn't know…." He sighed deeply. "At the end of last term, after Mr. Diggory's untimely death, Mr. Malfoy came to me. He was shaken by what had happened. I believe that he had been doubting the rightness of Voldemort's ideology for some time, but what happened during the tournament served as a catalyst. He offered me his services, and since we were aware that Voldemort was currently setting up residence at Malfoy Manor, I decided it was a chance that we couldn't pass up. He began working as a member of the Order, sending us information about the workings of Voldemort's inner circle. Once the term started, he became especially invaluable. Since, as you know, I was unable to be at Hogwarts for most of this year, Mr. Malfoy was able to stay close and watch out for you when I couldn't."
"So that's why he wanted to join our secret defence lessons," Harry mused. "But earlier today he told Umbridge about what we were doing, and we all got detention because of it." He glanced down at his hand, which still bore the marks of the enchanted quill. "If he was on our side, why would he do that?"
Dumbledore exhaled heavily. "As you may know, Mr. Malfoy went back to his home this past weekend. While he was there, he heard about a plan to lure you to the Department of Mysteries. He likely thought you getting detention was the best way to keep you safely at Hogwarts." He paused to smile at Harry. "But of course, you managed to escape and go to the Ministry anyways. Mr. Malfoy found out and sent word to the Order by owl, but since it's not the most efficient method of correspondence, I expect that he went after you so that he could help you himself."
"It would have been a lot simpler if he had just told me it was trap," Harry said petulantly.
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled with amusement. "You would have listened to him?"
Harry shifted uncomfortably. He knew that he would not have.
"Even so," Dumbledore continued, "he was given strict orders not to tell anyone about his work for the Order. Much like Professor Snape, his cover was more convincing if you two continued to act like you were…not on the best terms."
Harry snorted. That was the understatement of the century. He looked at Draco. Even though everything made sense, it was still hard to believe. "He's saved my life…more than once," he said softly.
Dumbledore smiled. "He's a brave young man. Not just because he was willing to put himself in danger to help you and your friends, but because he willingly turned his back on everything that he had been taught since he was young—on a way of life that his family and friends still believe in. That is the mark of true courage—doing what you know to be right no matter what those around you say."
Harry nodded thoughtfully. "What will happen to him now? Bellatrix saw him protect me at the Ministry. They'll know that he's working with the Order."
Dumbledore stroked his beard as he gazed at Draco. "Yes, well he certainly won't be able to go back to his home. I suppose that he'll probably stay at Grimmauld Place for now until we can figure out other accommodations." He turned back to face Harry. "Do you have any other questions about Mr. Malfoy?"
Harry hesitated a moment. "Yes, sir…it's about something that happened at the Ministry."
Dumbledore nodded, encouraging him to continue.
"Draco got hit by the killing curse. I was right there—I saw it, but he's still alive. How is that possible?"
Dumbledore looked thoughtful for a moment. "It's rare…but possible. Who was the caster, if I may ask?"
"Lucius Malfoy."
The aged wizard turned to look at Draco. "I believe that therein lies the answer to your question, Harry. In order to cast an unforgivable curse successfully, one must truly mean it. You will be hard-pressed to find someone—even among the most heinous criminals—who is willing to kill their own child."
"I don't think that he knew it was Draco though…not until after it was cast."
"It matters not," Dumbledore answered. "Magic, at its core, is a material representation of a wizard's desire—and is thus fully controlled by them, even after it has left the wand."
Harry nodded slowly, trying to digest what he had just heard.
"Now, is there anything else?" Dumbledore asked kindly.
"No, sir, thank you."
"Good." Dumbledore once again picked up the dusty orb. "Now then, where was I…? Yes, I suppose I'll start from the beginning…"
And as Harry listened, Dumbledore told him all about the prophecy that would alter his life forever.