Third Place - Drama

(Thursday morning)

Later that morning, thankfully after I�d bathed, dressed and prepared to meet the day, I was summoned to Dumbledore�s office. I nearly turned and bolted when I discovered the horde of people lurking about the small room. Every teacher, save Binns and Trelawney, was in attendance. And then I saw Weasley and Granger and I knew that somehow my evening outings were about to become public knowledge.

I stood by the doorway, ignoring the glares sent my way by the Weasel and the frowns from McGonagall and Snape. I felt so touched that I could bring them together in their confusion of my intentions. It gave me a warm, fuzzy feeling...really, it did. Just as I was prepared to zone completely out and wait for Weasley�s squawks to bring me back to any pertinent point, Dumbledore dropped the dungbomb.

"I think perhaps we may be forced to admit him to St. Mungo�s," the old man shook his head sadly.

"No!" I interjected before fully thinking through what such an outburst might indicate. The looks I had received before were nothing compared to the ones aimed at me now. I barely managed not to flush in embarrassment. "I mean...the best thing for Harry is to get back into his life. The effects of Crucio are severe, but holing him up in a sterile room with nothing of his past isn�t the way to bring him back. The Longbottoms are perfect examples of what happens in a case like that."

Open mouths were the first indication that perhaps I wasn�t supposed to know about the Longbottoms. The patented Death Glare from Snape was my second. I sighed. "He needs to be around his friends, or at least people who aren�t poking him for blood samples. He needs to go to class, to do the things he did before if he�s ever to improve."

Weasley�s glare had heated to almost incendiary. "What the hell do you care about what happens to Harry?" he demanded, face flushed with rage.

I felt the threads of my patience beginning to unravel. "I bloody well killed my father for him you moronic tit!" I snarled, stalking across the room to get directly in his face. He threw his head up like a startled horse, near panic plastered all over that stupid Weasley countenance, but he didn�t back down. Neither did I.

"I brought disgrace upon my family, defied Voldemort in a manner which will likely get me murdered in my bed and dragged Harry�s fat unconscious arse over a hundred miles on my bloody broomstick in the middle of a Scottish winter! Considering that your portion of the Rescue-Harry attempt was to sit idly by the Gryffindork window and wring your hands, moaning about your decided lack of usefulness, I damn well don�t think my level of caring is up for debate!"

Ron blinked for a moment, my spittle having sprayed across his face during my tirade, and then his eyes narrowed. He opened his mouth to retaliate and Granger placed a single hand on his arm. His jaw snapped shut like a turtle�s and he practically vibrated with fury, but he obeyed her restraint.

Dumbledore waited a moment to make sure no bloodshed would result and then nodded, that bloody damned twinkle beginning afresh. "Harry would indeed be better off in the company of friends and a familiar environment. Our only problem lies in the fact that the boy, and he truly is a boy now, has the mentality of a four or five year old. He will need constant supervision."

"I�ll watch him, Headmaster," Granger said softly, her eyes full of pain. In that moment, I almost felt a kinship with the Muggle-born girl. Then, Weasley grunted and she smiled up at him. I shuddered. No. No kinship allowed with someone who would choose Weasley as her soul mate.

Dumbledore smiled and patted Granger�s shoulder. "I know you would, my dear. But, though Harry is mentally a child, his body is that of a young man. I fear too much of a strain on your friendship when Harry returns to his normal mentality."

Granger winced but nodded. "I understand," she replied.

Weasley looked warily from Dumbledore to his girlfriend. "I-I could take care of him," he said hesitantly.

I didn�t understand the hesitancy. Nor did I understand the pained look on Granger�s face.

"Yes, you could," Dumbledore agreed, a thread of sadness running through his words, "and you would do an admirable job of it, Mr. Weasley. You love him very much. He is a large part of your world." The looks they were exchanging were confusing. Weasley looked guilty. Dumbledore looked melancholy. I didn�t really understand until Weasley spoke.

"I don�t mind being his sidekick," he said so quietly it was near to a whisper. He flushed as he said it.

Dumbledore just nodded. "I know you don�t. But the fact that you think of yourself that way leads me to be concerned about you integrating Harry more so into your life." Dumbledore stared at Weasley over the rims of his half-moon glasses. "He would be with you day and night. He would need help in all aspects of his life; feeding, bathing, dressing. Perhaps instead, you might take this time to think about whom Ronald Weasley truly is instead of trying to bear this burden."

Weasley began to tear up, his face turning the color of his hair. He bit his lip harder with each new word. That last word, however, drew a response. "He�s not a burden. I don�t think of him like that. I never have! He�s my best friend. I love him."

I sighed. Fucking Gryffindors. "No one is saying that you don�t love him, idiot," I interrupted the potential for a hysterical sob fest. "The Headmaster is just saying that you�ve spent your whole life in someone else�s shadow...your brothers first and now Harry. He�s just saying that while Harry is getting better, maybe you should find out who the hell you are and what you want to do, instead of who does Harry need you to be and what does Harry need you to do?"

He opened and closed his mouth like some gaping fish; tears spilling silently down his cheeks. I rolled my eyes. "Are you trying to tell me that it�s not what Harry himself would ask you to do?" In the end, with Granger comforting him, Weasley finally nodded and buried his face in her shoulder. I rolled my eyes again and turned to look at the Headmaster.

He was smiling.

I�ve learned from Professor Snape that Dumbledore�s smile is a precursor to one being coerced into doing something that would never previously have been even considered. I didn�t really understand that before. I do now.

"What?" I asked warily.

Dumbledore just shrugged and looked innocent. Right. "I�m just glad to hear that you agree with me, Mr. Malfoy." And then the other shoe dropped. "Because I�d like you to become Harry�s guardian. There was a quiet roil of astonished murmurs from the rest of the staff, but it was nothing compared to we students.

Weasel and I sounded like his ridiculous twin brothers, reciting in unison.

"Why him? / Why me?"

"He doesn�t even like him! / He doesn�t even like me!"

"He�s a Slytherin! / He�s a Gryffindor!"

"He�ll hurt him! / I�ll...what?"

And there we broke.

"Why the hell would I hurt him?" I snapped.

Weasley glared at me. "You hate him! You�ve tried to make his life miserable ever since you met!"

I was shocked. "You really think I would abuse a four year old?" Surely he didn�t think that I�d sink that low?

"He�s not four," came the snide response. "He�s seventeen."

And there went my patience. "He�s lying down in the infirmary, drooling on a pillow, clutching that fucking dog and sucking his thumb!" I snarled. "Trust me! He�s four." Weasel looked horribly offended and I almost felt vindicated...but then I noticed Granger smirking at me.

"How do you know that he drools or that he sucks his thumb?" she asked. "And what dog?"

I flushed. Crap. "I�ve seen...I�ve watched...when he gets nerv...I just know, all right?" Crapcrapcrap! "And he was sniveling last night so I made him a bloody dog. Is that all, you bloody Know-it-all?"

My insult apparently had the opposite effect. She just smiled and nodded. She then placed a hand over Weasel�s mouth as he opened it to spew more foul language at me, and smiled at Dumbledore.

"Thank you for giving us this time, Headmaster. Professors," she said quietly with an incline of her head toward each. "I�m sure Draco will do a fine job. He has my full trust and my offer to help in any way needed. We�ll be going, now. See you at breakfast, Draco." She nodded once more and practically dragged Weasley out the door.

I stood in shock.

"But...I didn�t agree!" I said stupidly to the assorted professors now staring at me.

Dumbledore smiled and nodded. "I�ll announce it to the Great Hall at breakfast while you�re picking Harry up. I�ll let everyone know that they will be expected to assist you in any way possible."

I was dumbstruck.

"But...I didn�t agree," I repeated.

"You can take Harry to breakfast and then on to classes. I�ll move his trunk down to your rooms for more ease in his care."

He began to push me towards the door, steering me around Snape and Flitwick.

"But I didn�t agree!" I couldn�t seem to say anything else.

"You go and pick up your charge now," he smiled as I found myself in the hall.

"But, Headmaster!" I whined. "I didn�t agree!"

He just smiled. "Of course you did, Draco."

"When?" My whining was becoming annoying even to me.

"Think about it, my boy. I�m sure you�ll remember."

And the door closed in my face.

POV�Dumbledore

I have never felt as old or as useless in my life. How can this have happened? I have failed. Utterly and completely failed. Yes, there is still hope, but barely a ray of it.

Watching Harry lie in hospital almost broke even my spirit. I cannot let the children see me weep, though I have certainly done enough of it in the past ten days. The first night, I closed myself in my office and sobbed. A pathetic old man, sitting huddled in a corner crying into his beard. Even Fawkes could not comfort me.

I know there are those who think me cold and calculating. I have heard it said that I am controlling and manipulative. Perhaps I am. It comes with the job.

If I must choose between sacrificing Harry and sacrificing hundreds of thousands of wizards and witches and millions upon millions of Muggles, then we will sacrifice Harry. It is not a decision of the heart. Too much depends on it for that. If I could spare him the burden, if I could keep him safe until someone else killed Voldemort.... if I could trade my life for his, I would do so without hesitation. He is like a grandson to me. Much as I tried, it was impossible to prevent the lines from becoming blurred. Nor would I want to, knowing what it is like to have him in my life.

The night he awoke, when the charm I had placed on him alerted me that he had moved, I moved faster than I have in decades. I believe I almost knocked Severus to the ground when we arrived simultaneously at the infirmary door. I knew something was horribly wrong the moment I saw him. His eyes were open, and filled with terror. Although he looked like the Harry we knew, he was not.

I hoped that it was merely the shock. He might have awakened thinking himself still in the dungeon and have expected whoever he encountered to curse him. Forcing the potion on him felt like such a violation. I have heard a saying attributed to Muggle parents when punishing a child. �This is going to hurt me more than it hurts you,� I believe it goes. It is true. Holding Harry down may have been a physical challenge, but it was emotional torture.

I asked him questions. He did not answer. I asked other questions. He did not answer. I continued well beyond what would have seemed reasonable. But I was not reasonable. It was not reasonable. Nothing about this was reasonable.

Finally I asked Severus to look into his mind. Harry�s frightened whine ground at my heart. Snape did not need to explain, although he did. His reaction was enough. I feel sorry for Severus. I believe he is afraid he will never be able to tell Harry the truth. He cares so deeply for the boy. It was, as they say, �good cop, bad cop� and he drew the short straw. In so many ways his role has been far more difficult than mine.

And that night I wept alone in my room.

Contacting the Order was unpleasant. The all expected me to have an answer. I�m not even certain I know the question yet. Had Lucius Malfoy not already been dead, I am certain he would not have survived the day. Molly Weasley alone would have fought off an entire room of Death Eaters to get to him. Of course they had all known for more than a week what had happened. But they had held on to hope, as did I.

Perhaps listening to them helped. I found myself not dwelling on Harry�s condition but rather on its impact on the bigger picture. Harry must be returned to us. He must be able to face Voldemort. If Voldemort got hold of him now, he could train him to be dark. That is if he did not simply kill him. Tom has an odd sense of irony, and I fear the former more than the latter.

I would never have placed Harry in St. Mungo�s. Saying that I would was a manipulative ploy. I have said it comes with the job. In reality, it comes with both jobs: Headmaster and leader in the war. It was imperative that young Mr. Malfoy take charge of Harry. If I am not mistaken, and sadly I rarely am, he may be the only to whom Harry will respond as a seventeen-year-old.

Had he not agreed, I would have cared for him myself.

I have reservations about placing Harry in Slytherin. There are those who may take advantage of his weakened condition. But I trust Mr. Malfoy. And at heart, I trust in the humanity of those children. If anything or anyone can sway them from taking the Mark, it is the child Harry.

Mr. Malfoy was a bit more vociferous in his objections to the notion of St. Mungo�s than I had anticipated. His reasoning was sound, however. And I was not at all surprised that he knew about Frank and Alice Longbottom. Everyone else seemed shocked. Clearly they do not understand that as the Malfoy heir and the son of a member of Voldemort�s inner circle, it is likely he knows things that even I do not.

Ron Weasley is not taking this well. I fear he will crawl into himself. Usually it is Harry who buries himself in guilt for not preventing what he could not have changed. I wonder if they realize how much alike they are. And I wonder if young Weasley will come out of his self-imposed prison long enough to grow in his newfound sunlight. Mr. Malfoy was quite right about that. Ron Weasley has never had the opportunity to find out just who he is.

Ah, and dear Miss Granger. She is so in need of someone to take care of. I was not surprised that she would be the first to offer to be Harry�s guardian. I hesitated a bit before addressing her offer thinking Minerva, in her rather Victorian way, would spot the problem and intervene. She must be slipping.

Mr. Malfoy was a bit harder to convince. In fact he was not to be convinced. In the end I simply thanked him for accepting and sent him off. It was all there was to be done.

He has been truly amazing these past weeks, our Mr. Malfoy. It has long been my hope that he would turn against Voldemort. I never saw, even as a possibility, that he would kill his father. I am astounded; he is stronger than I had thought. Now that one mask has fallen, I wonder how long it will take for the others to follow.

All of our hopes are pinned on him now. He might well be our only chance of getting Harry back. And without Harry Potter...

Retreat - Chapter 3

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