A week after Dumbledore's funeral, Hermione sat at the table in the Weasley's kitchen sipping tea as she went over the article in the Daily Prophet again. It was astounding how much of it that they had gotten right this time.
"Professor Dumbledore Murdered by A Staff Member" was on the front page, and detailed how Snape had killed Dumbledore when Malfoy had tried but had failed to do so. On the second page was "Horrific Murder Scene at Malfoy Manor: Draco and Narcissa Malfoy Confirmed Dead," and the writer was of the view that they had been murdered by the Death Eaters for Malfoy's failure to kill Dumbledore. Everyone assumed that after the fight, Malfoy had gone home to try to get his mother and escape before You-Know-Who ordered the Death Eaters there to kill them. However, the Death Eaters had arrived too quickly for them to get away. According to a Ministry official, a sensor the Ministry had put into place had detected the presence of Bellatrix Lestrange that night.
In spite of the warm summer's evening and the head radiating from Mrs. Weasley's stove, Hermione shivered. Well, it wouldn't have been the first time Lestrange had murdered a family member. And it wasn't as if the Malfoys were innocent themselves. Narcissa had, at the very least, known about her husband and son's activities and said nothing. Draco had been a Death Eater…but he had been killed for failing to kill someone else, and that did bother her.
At least this wasn't good for Death Eater recruiting, now that everyone knew that one failure meant that you and your family would be instantly killed.
"You do know that that paper is from last week 'Mione," Ginny said, pulling her red hair behind her shoulders into a ponytail as she sat down beside Hermione.
"I know," Hermione said, "but all of the papers since then have only been rehashing what appears in this one, or else discussing whether or not Hogwarts should remain open." And Hogwarts closing was something she'd just as soon not read about, even if she wouldn't be attending even if it did remain open next year.
Ginny sighed again. "You have any idea what Professor McGonagall is talking to Harry about?"
Hermione shook her head. The professor had shown up with Moody about half an hour ago looking for Harry. Then the three of them had disappeared with Mrs. Weasley and Harry into a room upstairs, but no one had come back down yet. So, Hermione waited, reading old newspapers while Ginny had been set to make sure the stew on the stove did not burn. Ron, who had been polishing his broomstick and talking to Harry before the arrivals, had gone to try to find his extendable ears to figure out what was going on, but had come back down a few minutes later with a defeated look on his face. The door, apparently, had an Imperturbable charm placed on it so Ron had returned to polishing his broom and occasionally casting looks towards the staircase.
There was a creaking sound coming from upstairs. Guessing that the meeting was over, Hermione rose from her seat to meet Harry and find out what had been going on when she was distracted by a knocking noise coming from the door. Hermione turned around as the door opened, and could not stop a startled cry as literally the last person she expected to see walked into the Weasley's kitchen.
………….
Harry walked out the door of the spare room, satisfied with how their meeting had turned out. With his will, Dumbledore had left a note that detailed how the Order should proceed in the event of his death. Moody and Professor McGonagall would run most of the day-to-day operations, but he clearly stated that there was a task that he had entrusted to Harry. Everyone was to put whatever he needed for his 'task' before anything else, and not to ask him questions about what it entailed. As far as Grimmauld Place was concerned, the spell had been modified so if Dumbledore died, the job of secret-keeper would immediately transfer to Harry who would have to re-tell everyone where it was so they could enter. Also, he, Ron, and Hermione were to be inducted into the Order at once.
This made a good many things easier.
Harry was just walking down the stairs when he heard a startled scream, and--his heart now beating at the speed of a galloping hippogriff--he took the last few steps in a leap. He ran into the kitchen to find Ron, Hermione, and Ginny with their wands out, but judging by their bulging eyeballs and confused expressions, they were currently too shocked to use them. Harry didn't notice McGonagall and Moody come to a halt just behind him; he wouldn't have noticed someone hitting him over the head with a cauldron when he saw what had caused the commotion.
Two additional figures were now in the Weasley's kitchen. Draco Malfoy stood there, looking much like he had when Harry had seen him last. His Hogwarts uniform was now clean, his hair had been washed and combed, but his eyes hadn't changed--he was still terrified of something, and trying to hide it as best he could. Harry only barley registered the presence of the other figure, a blond woman he recognized as Malfoy's mother, that was leaning against the door and holding the doorknob as if that and willpower were the only things holding her upright.
"I thought that you were dead," Harry heard himself say.
"Can't say that I'm that sorry to disappoint you," Malfoy said. His tone was odd, as if he himself was unsure that this was really happening, as if he accepted things as they were only because he was expecting to wake up at any moment.
"Can you prove that you're really Draco Malfoy?" Moody, who had his wand aimed at the intruders with a steady hand, growled from behind him.
"Ask me anything you want to," Malfoy said, eying Mood's wand but keeping his hands visibly away from his own.
Harry's mind raced. Was this really Draco Malfoy? If not, who would impersonate him and why? "During our second year," he started, "you met Percy Weasley in the dungeons as well as two people you thought were Crabb and Goyle. After you got back to your common room, what did you say to 'Goyle' when he didn't appear to know what Azkaban was?"
Malfoy blinked slowly, then frowned, apparently racking his brain. "Second year? Umm…oh, that was you?"
Harry nodded, unblinking.
"I think that I said something to the effect that if you were any slower, you'd be moving backwards," Malfoy answered.
Harry sighed. "It's him. I don't know how, but it's him." A little of the tension in the room left, but did not completely drain away. Malfoy was who he said he was, but what could possibly be relaxing about Malfoy showing up in the Burrow, especially when he was suppose to be dead?
"Perhaps you could explain what happened and why you are here when everyone is convinced that you are in a thousand tiny pieces scattered around your parlor," McGonagall said. Harry noticed that she had not put her wand away.
"The parlor was my work. I'm testing my theory that it's easier to survive when everyone thinks that you're dead," Malfoy said levelly. "As for what happened…well…. I couldn't kill Dumbledore. He said that he'd kill me and my entire family if I didn't, he expected me to die trying--everyone did."
McGonagall shivered, as if the room had gotten cold, and Malfoy continued his voice growing slightly unsteadier as he went on.
"I thought that I'd probably die trying too, but Dumbledore seemed weak that night, like he had already been in a fight of some kind. I disarmed him, but I couldn't make myself kill him. When the others came, I was shaking so badly that Snape…did it instead. He had made an Unbreakable Vow to get me out of Hogwarts safely, so he did that, but I apparated to my house, found my mother, and made that mess in the parlor instead of going back to headquarters. After that, we found an empty muggle house--I think that the owners were on vacation or something--and stayed there until today, waiting for things to die down a little. Now we're here," Draco finished, as if that explained everything.
Ron still looked as if someone had Confunded him. "Why did you decide to play dead, and what are you doing here then?" he asked.
Malfoy's expression turned very close to his normal sneer before he caught himself and his face became stoic again. His tone, however, remained condescending. "I thought that it would be obvious Weasley. The Dark Lord ordered me to kill Dumbledore, and I didn't do it. Therefore, I assumed that he would keep his word and kill my family and me as quickly as possible. Even if he forgot to kill me over this, there remains the fact that I couldn't kill someone, and he would probably order me to do it again, which means that I would fail again. This means that even if he decided not to kill me for not killing Dumbledore, he would kill me for not killing someone else.
"This means that remaining in the Dark Lord's service would mean death for me, and my family, whether it is death now or later. It's just that being murdered is something that I'd rather not have happen at all. If it was just me, I might take my chances simply running, but I have to worry about her too," Malfoy said, jerking his head towards his mother.
"The reason I'm here is simply because I believe that the Order has better resources to hide us than I could find on my own. I don't expect you to trust me, but just the same I don't expect that you'd want to let even me die because I didn't kill someone," Malfoy finished. He looked around the room expectantly, obviously trying to gauge everyone's expressions to find if his explanation left anything to be desired in convincing them to do what he wanted them to. His eyes flickered briefly towards his mother before coming to rest on McGonagall and Moody, whom he obviously assumed were in charge of matters like these.
After a moment, McGonagall sighed and said, "It's your call Potter."
Malfoy blinked in surprise, turning an incredulous expression towards him. Inwardly, Harry smiled grimly. Malfoy knew that he was at his mercy, and Harry felt sure that Malfoy thought him incredibly pleased with the situation, but nothing could be farther from the truth. He would rather this decision belonged to anyone but him.
"You didn't mention something Malfoy," Harry said, and Malfoy's expression tightened slightly. "You didn't mention that protection of this sort was exactly what Dumbledore offered you. You didn't say that he said that your death could be faked, and that the Order could be sent to your house to get your mother, after which we could hide you. Why not?"
Malfoy's expression relaxed a little. "I didn't know that you knew," he said, and then he looked confused. "Wait a minute…you were there? But then why…?"
Malfoy didn't finish the sentence, but it couldn't have been more obvious that he was wondering why Harry had done nothing to prevent Dumbledore's death. He was also smart enough not to ask directly about it, as people normally did not deliberately try to provoke someone that might very well have your life in their hands.
"Give us a few minutes to discuss this," Harry said, motioning for the Malfoys to leave the room.
Malfoy slowly nodded, and turned to his mother motioning for him to follow him to the living room. Mrs. Malfoy just now seemed to realize that she was still holding onto the doorknob, and let go allowing her son to lead her out of the kitchen.
Someone hit the kitchen door with some sort of a silencing charm, and Harry sunk onto the bench and put his head on the table. He hadn't expected this. Most of what Malfoy had said had sounded like the truth, or part of it anyway. But then, the best lies often were merely truths that were slightly altered. He didn't believe that Malfoy had told him everything. Why couldn't things be simple for once?
"So…how much of that do you believe Potter?" Moody said, sitting down beside him.
Harry didn't answer right away, frowning at the table instead.
"Well," Hermione said, "we have three scenarios here. If he's lying and we hide them and they betray us, Voldemort gets information and people could die. If he's telling the truth, we don't hide them, and Voldemort finds out that he's still alive, he and his mother die. Irony is probably the only word I could use for someone dying because they didn't kill someone. If he's telling the truth and we hide them, that means that we have to put up with the two of them now, and maybe Lucius later, which while hard and definitely tricky--even assuming that Lucius behaves himself--it's still survivable for all concerned."
"The only thing he said that I trust," Ron piped in, "is that he doesn’t want to die. Oh, and he probably doesn’t want his mother to die either, but other than that, I'd have to see it to believe it."
Harry nodded slowly. "You're both right, but there are two other things. One, Dumbledore did offer him the Order's protection if he came over to our side. Two, he did lower his wand; he was lowering it just as the other Death Eaters came up. He wasn't going to kill Dumbledore, and not because he could not but because he would not."
Harry nodded toward the door, and McGonagall removed the spell and called the Malfoys back into the kitchen.
"I have decided to hide you, but under two conditions," Harry said. "First, you both will do as I or another senior member tell you, and be satisfied with the information we do or do not give you. This includes, for example, remaining in your rooms during Order meetings. Second, you will attempt to be civil. This means that you may not refer to Hermione as a mudblood in case you haven't guessed that. If you accept these terms, you will be housed in headquarters, which is under the Fidelius Charm. You should be safe there."
Malfoy nodded. "We can live with that," he said, his body seemingly loosing a tension Harry hadn't noticed there before. His mother, who had still not said a word, nodded agreement, looking relieved enough that he would have thought that her head had just been lifted off of the chopping block.
Harry supposed that that wasn't too far from the truth.
There was a humming sound as Mrs. Weasley came into her kitchen from outside, carrying a basket full of laundry that she had just taken off the clothesline. She shrieked and clothes went flying all over the kitchen as Mrs. Weasley noticed the two newcomers standing there.
Harry chuckled, removing one of Ginny's shirts and a sock from where they had landed on his head. Why did he have the feeling that by the time this was over, he would be having a difficult time figuring out which way was up?