Transition

Harry stared at the group of Slytherins hovering over Draco’s bed in irritation, and stood rather impatiently under the cover of his Invisibility Cloak. He breathed a sigh of relief when Madam Pomfrey finally stomped towards them and drove them away, telling them to restrict their visits to daytime hours. He watched as the nurse trailed after the sulky students and waited until Madam Pomfrey went back to her office before moving silently towards the unconscious Slytherin’s bed.

The candles illuminating the infirmary gradually went out, except for one that was left burning near the entrance of the room. Harry tugged at the cloak concealing him, folded it haphazardly, and sat gingerly on the edge of the bed. Draco still had not wakened, and Harry was greatly worried. He reached out to brush the silky strands of silver hair away from the other boy’s forehead and caressed one side of the wizard’s face.

The hospital wing took on a more ghostly appearance as the night deepened, especially when the strong moonlight from the waning gibbous moon passed through the high windows. Harry looked up for a moment to admire the serenity that had fallen over the infirmary. A strange twinkle caught his attention, and he found that it was his ring, the one given to him by Draco. His lucent emerald eyes automatically sought for the ring on Draco’s finger. The hematite jewel gleamed palely under the moonlight.

Harry leaned in closer to kiss Draco on his forehead. “Get well soon, Draco,” he murmured and rested his cheek against the Slytherin’s soft hair. “I miss you.” He took some time to tuck the blankets about Malfoy carefully. Then he planted a kiss on Draco’s lips before pulling the Invisibility Cloak about his shoulders and going back to his dormitory.

Harry was oddly irritated the next morning, having woken up to an empty dormitory. He did not greet the few Gryffindors who were lingering in the common room and climbed through the portrait hole grimly. The gloominess of the castle – a storm had broken over the island – worsened his already foul mood and he refrained from uttering his curses aloud. A fellow student might be tangled in curses which he did not really mean.

He wondered if they would finally be having their classes again – their lessons had been halted since more than twenty students were incapable of getting to class without hassle. His pace slowed as he reached the Great Hall and was puzzled at its relative quietness. He cautiously made his way near the door and sighed.

Guess the other students aren’t in a good mood either. He entered. The first thing he noticed was the false ceiling and he sighed moodily. It’s no wonder why the rest are depressed. Can’t we have something else rather than a reflection of the weather outside?

He was about to move forward when something made him look to his left. His heart skipped a beat when he saw Draco snapping a bar of chocolate into pieces. As if the blonde-haired Slytherin had sensed him, Draco stopped his movements and looked in the direction of the great doors with an odd, expectant expression. Then he smiled as his eyes met the Gryffindor’s jade-green ones. Harry’s knees wobbled, seriously affected by the unexpected friendly gesture. He smiled shyly in return before moving towards his friends.

He noticed that his two best friends were not in their usual seats so he gave Ginny an inquiring look.

“I think they’re having a prefects’ meeting,” the witch replied in a bored tone.

“If the atmosphere doesn’t change soon, I think I’m going to start crying,” Neville muttered. The others shot sharp glances at him. He took on a defensive posture. “What? I’m not exaggerating or anything! I’m feeling depressed, because you all are!”

“Who asked you to be depressed?” someone asked in contempt.

“Well, yeah. No one asked for your opinion either,” Ginny snapped, her face turning red in anger. She cursed vehemently under her breath and shoved Dean’s hand away from her. Her boyfriend, who was just trying to comfort her, sighed and remained quiet.

“Hey, here they come,” Seamus said into the silence. “Looks like Madam Pomfrey has taken ‘Mione’s cast off.” Harry turned his head and saw the grave faces of his friends. He turned back to his breakfast and tried to eat. Ron and Hermione, both fully and miraculously healed, came to sit on each of his sides.

“I want to hit something,” Ron said. “Very badly.”

“Cheering Charms anyone?” Seamus piped up mildly.

“You know, has someone cursed us all or something?” Harry asked conversationally. “Because I half want to kill something, and half want to go huddle up somewhere and cry.”

“It’s getting really intolerable, isn’t it?” Hermione replied, sounding a little strained. She seemed to shake something off and her voice took on a livelier tone. “Well, classes will resume on Friday. Professor Flitwick has planned something – we’re not sure what, but whatever he is planning will make sure the rest can keep up with us.” Then as if muttering to herself, “My timetable will be packed … we’ve wasted so much time. And NEWTs aren’t too far off!”

“Yeah,” Ron agreed. “By the way, we’ve got to go somewhere and talk.”

Harry stopped eating and looked at his friend. Ron’s words sounded quite ominous. “Common room?”

“No. Our dorm,” his friend replied.

“I think we should just go to Dumbledore’s office,” Hermione suggested. “He wants to see Harry anyway.”

“Well, all right, but aren’t you forgetting something? Or rather, someone?” Ron directed the question at his girlfriend.

“Ron, we’ve all had plenty of time to brood. I’m sure some Slytherins have thought about things. Professor Snape certainly has,” Hermione answered wearily.

“You mean to say we have to bring Draco Malfoy along,” Harry stated when he remembered a certain figure that had appeared in the forest a few days ago, arching an eyebrow in speculation.

“Yes, Harry. We have to,” the bushy-haired witch replied in resignation.

“I see,” Harry replied, looking gravely at her before letting his eyes roam and resting them on an oblivious Draco. The Gryffindors finished their breakfast and stared at each other uncomfortably.

“I’m not sure if I should be in Dumbledore’s office,” Neville started. “You’d probably be discussing about some confidential matters.”

“Maybe … we’ll wait for you inside the dormitory. Then you can tell us what Dumbledore tells you can,” Ginny said thoughtfully.

“That’s a sound idea,” Ron agreed. “Let’s go then, Harry.”

“I’ll go and get Draco.”

The group clambered off their seats. While the rest of his friends moved towards the double doors, Harry made his way to the Slytherin tables. There were some whispers and pointed looks, and Goyle tapped Draco’s shoulder gently. The latter looked at his ‘bodyguard’ with a frown, but it faded into a perplexed expression when he saw the ebony-haired wizard staring down at him.

“Professor Dumbledore wants to see you,” Harry said, gazing at Draco’s pale face and noticing just how thin the prefect looked.

“Whatever for?” the Slytherin asked.

“Has Professor Snape talked to you?” Harry questioned instead.

“No.” Draco’s face turned melancholy all of a sudden. “Does he want to see me now?”

“Yes.”

Goyle cleared his throat and asked Draco in a low voice if he should come along.

“I don’t think so, Goyle. I’ll see you later,” Draco replied brusquely.

“Well … if you’re sure,” Goyle replied, somewhat disappointedly.

Harry went ahead and Hermione whispered to him quickly that she and Ron would make their way up first. However, after walking some distance away from Harry, she turned around and flashed him a wink. Harry smiled at her supportive nature.

“Hey, can you give me a hand?” a voice asked him, and he turned around in bewilderment. Leaning right against the wall was Draco. The Slytherin was panting slightly and in the crook of both arms was a pair sturdy crutches. “I’m not at all used to having these,” the wizard said, looking slightly embarrassed.

Harry’s eyes widened, then narrowed as he scrutinized Draco; his legs seemed to be bulky underneath his pants. Wordlessly he came up to Draco’s side, took one of the crutches and replaced it with his own shoulder.

“It’s good that I’m slightly shorter than you,” Harry said with a slight smile as he aided Draco to walk. The Slytherin merely made a noncommittal sound at the back of his throat.

The walk up to the Gryffindor Tower was quiet, with both of them keeping silent. It was partially due to the presence of students who watched them with gaping mouths and shocked expressions. It was not until they turned into the corridor and saw the gargoyle protecting the entrance of Dumbledore’s office that Harry finally spoke up.

He stopped and Draco stared at him curiously. “I’m glad you’re all right,” Harry said quietly, gazing intently into a pair of deep grey eyes. Those eyes softened and Draco leaned in slightly to kiss Harry. The Gryffindor closed his eyes, reveling in the warmth of his partner and the kiss.

“I’m glad to see you too,” Draco whispered, his smile so full of love that Harry’s heart gave a painful squeeze. “I’m glad to see you too,” the young wizard repeated.

Harry returned the smile and both ambled slowly towards the horrendous gargoyle. Then standing before the grey statue, the wizard with the spiky, ebony hair cursed eloquently. “Damn – I forgot to ask Hermione for the password.”

Draco chuckled, his silver eyes twinkling merrily. “Chewy cool-mints,” he said to the gargoyle. A grating sound filled the air as the statue moved to reveal the secret passage.

“Thanks,” Harry mumbled, and they stepped onto the spiral staircase. Slowly, they rose upwards, and Harry saw Draco closing his eyes, probably to prevent himself from getting dizzy by the spiraling movements of the stairway. Finally, they came upon the oak door, and Harry gently rapped on it using the griffon-shaped knocker.

It seemed that several Ministry officials, not just Ron and Hermione, were waiting for them. Harry couldn’t help but feel slightly apprehensive in their presence.

“Come on in, Harry, Draco,” Dumbledore said in a sober tone. He was sitting behind his desk, idly stroking his long beard. He waved his hand absently in the air and a pair of empty chairs appeared beside Ron.

Harry guided Draco forward and pretended not to notice the look on Weasley’s face. Draco prudently took the chair furthest away from the redhead and left Harry to sit beside his friend.

“You wanted to see me, Professor Dumbledore?” Draco inquired mildly.

“Yes, I did.” Dumbledore looked at him penetratingly. “I called you to be present because of a certain matter, which I’ll ask Harry to explain.” His eyes flickered over to watch the said young wizard.

Harry blinked and took a deep breath. He had spoken with Tonks about the incident last night, leaving the appearance of Draco’s father out. He had just said that at least two of the culprits were Death Eaters. Dumbledore had already learned about all the other details during a very private discussion which had taken place not long after Harry was out of the infirmary.

Hence, he repeated the account, this time for the benefit of Draco and the officials seated randomly about Dumbledore’s office. Harry felt Draco stiffen beside him the moment Lucius’s name was mentioned. As Harry finished, silence filled the room. After a while, the Ministry officials broke out in murmurs. Draco, however, remained dangerously quiet.

Fudge was the first to conclude that the attack was the work of Voldemort’s ex-followers, but Snape quickly brushed that aside, and said, “You must realize that those you should accuse are those who have no real attachment to the Slytherins. And I know the man whom you are all blaming. He would not consider hurting his own son.”

“But Potter –”

“– was almost sorted into my House.”

“We should have apprehended Malfoy when we had the chance,” one of the Aurors murmured to her colleague. Snape glared at her but she appeared not to notice it.

“We didn’t at that time know if Lucius Malfoy was alive or dead,” her colleague replied plaintively. “Well, now it is done. All we could do now is to organize a manhunt.”

“My father is dead,” Draco said softly.

“I beg your pardon?” the Minister said quickly. His surprise was shared with each of his employees, and also Ron and Hermione.

“My sire is dead,” Draco repeated steadily, raising his eyes to stare at Fudge.

“Then how can it be that Mister Potter has seen him?” Kingsley intervened.

“An impostor,” Draco said dismissively.

“You seem to be so sure of your father’s death, Draco,” Dumbledore said lightly. “Why is that?”

What is he implying? Harry thought, furious. He glanced nervously at Draco. The Slytherin’s face was white and his fingers were clenched into fists. Draco seemed to be contending with something. He gazed levelly into Dumbledore’s bright, sapphire eyes, and then in an unwavering voice, he informed them what had happened to him during the summer holidays.

“It was the night I returned to the mansion. My mother was reluctant to go back, and it seems for a good reason. We had entered our home and found it empty. I thought there was nothing wrong and I ignored my mother’s warning. I went upstairs,” Draco said, his eyes taking on a distant look. “The single candle I conjured immediately vanished. I heard my mother’s screams before I felt them.”

“The Dementors had in fact, been lying in wait for our return. My father was the one leading them.” Draco stopped and closed his eyes. “He was mad. Turned mad, probably. All the Death Eaters were cursed with it. The longer they had been corrupted by the Dark Lord, the greater the impact his death had on his followers.”

That explains the sheer madness in Darcy, Harry mused.

“You’re one of them!” Ron exclaimed, his face red with fury.

“Ronald!” Hermione hissed.

Draco smiled coldly at the red-haired wizard and calmly rolled up both of his sleeves. They were unmarked, as Harry had known they were. “Just because my father appeared cruel to you – and Dobby – it does not mean that he had been unkind to his own family. He had never wanted me to be in Voldemort’s service. He seemed to think that I have a bright future ahead of me.” His smile vanished. “Getting back to the matter at hand, I ran back to my mother. She had trouble focusing her will to shield herself from the Dementors, and had passed out cold.”

“I performed the Patronus Charm and when all the Dementors fled, I grabbed an ornamental sword from the wall and ran it through my father. Even wizards die if a blade slides through their hearts,” Draco finished in a strange, apathetic voice.

Dumbledore nodded in satisfaction. He turned to Fudge. “I somewhat agree with Severus. It is so easy to blame Slytherins and Death Eaters for the catastrophe our students have suffered. However, I’d like to point out that there are people who might want revenge because of the things that had happened when Voldemort was active. All of us are, after all, still human beings and are as imperfect as our Muggle cousins.”

A diffident knock on the door silenced the crowd before protests could be made. It was Raveneye with an entourage of bespectacled witches. “The culprits are not Lucius Malfoy or suspected Death Eaters, Professor Dumbledore,” she announced abruptly. “Kingsley, I’ve told our people to abandon the search.”

A few eyebrows lifted in inquiry.

“Then who are we after?” Tonks asked. Raveneye then handed a sheaf of parchments and the Metamorphmagus leafed through them carefully. Her eyes widened when she saw a picture of Ludo Bagman.

“The blood that Snape had given us had traces of the Polyjuice Potion. It also gave us slight complications during testing, but after troubleshooting, the investigators managed to find out the owner of the blood.”

“Are you absolutely sure?” Tonks persisted. Raveneye looked slightly pained at her dubiousness but nodded. Tonks appeared relieved at the news. “I’m glad it wasn’t Diggory. If there’s anyone who should really hate Voldemort and his fellows, it would be him.”

While the Headmaster and Ministry officials discussed the identities of the culprits, Harry sat in his chair, stunned. Draco had just admitted that he had killed his father. Then as though Fudge had read his thoughts, he told the young Slytherin in an arrogant tone that he was going to have to attend court about the heinous deed.

“After the NEWTs, Minister,” Professor Snape said in that menacing voice of his. His statement was accentuated with a snarl and Fudge stepped back a pace. “Young Malfoy here is not going to get waylaid by Dementors or raving lunatics here. This is the most unlikely time anyone would even think about harming the students.”

People slowly exited Dumbledore’s office, until only the school staff and students remained. All the while, Remus had been keeping close to the wall and had done a good job at being inconspicuous. Harry jumped at the werewolf’s voice.

“What are you up to, Severus?” the Defense professor demanded curiously. Snape too had forgotten about the wizard’s presence. The slight flare of his eyes gave him away.

The Potions Master regarded Remus with a contemplative look. “You might just be the best person who can help me,” Snape replied cryptically. “Come with me.” The somber wizard calmly walked out of the office. Remus frowned slightly at his colleague’s odd behavior, but shrugged and followed Snape out.

Harry waited until it became clear that his presence was no longer needed and politely asked Dumbledore for permission to leave, which the Headmaster gave absently. Harry took up one of Draco’s crutches without a word and offered a hand to the disabled Slytherin. The latter looked up at him in consternation, but Harry merely smiled. That was enough for Draco, and he took Harry’s hand, one arm automatically draping over his broad shoulders, while Harry’s arm snaked around the slender waist. Still not speaking, the two began their journey out of the office, both ignoring the stricken look on the face of a certain Weasley.