The Cowardly Lion (Book 1)

20: Of Dumbledore and the Truth

Draco woke up first, to the worried faces of Ron and Hermione. He was in the hospital wing, and he was exhausted, despite the fact that he'd just woken up. He looked to Ron and Hermione.

"Harry," he croaked, his voice hoarse with disuse. "Where is Harry?"

"He's right there, Draco," Hermione said softly. "He hasn't woken up just yet, whatever he did to Quirrell..."

"Quirrell's dead," Ron added, upon Draco's look of confusion. "Whatever Harry did to him..."

Draco's eyes focused on Harry's sleeping form. All the cuts from the keys had been healed by Madam Pomfrey; all the bruises were now yellow-green, ugly but healing. Harry was sleeping soundly, and the image of Harry's face as he'd been tackling Quirrell, scrunched with agony, took over Draco's mind. No doubt that would leave an imprint.

The day passed slowly; Ron and Hermione quickly realized it was no use trying to get the story out of Draco, who only wanted to hold Harry's hand and wish he'd wake up. Snape visited once, on Draco's request, and the duo hugged briefly and awkwardly. Snape admitted, rather bashfully - was it possible for Severus Snape to be bashful? - that he was the one who had sent Draco the Slytherin book for Christmas, and that he was sorry for how he'd acted after Halloween.

Harry woke up in the afternoon, just as Dumbledore paid the two a visit. Draco knew this because as Dumbledore bypassed Draco's bed, Harry's arm reached up slowly, trying to grab Dumbledore's glasses.

"Good afternoon, Harry," Dumbledore greeted Harry.

"Where's Draco?" Harry asked suddenly, and Draco squeezed Harry's hand from the bed beside him. "Sir! Sir, Quirrell's got the Stone, quick - "

"Calm yourself, dear boy, you are a little behind the times," said Dumbledore. "Quirrell does not have the Stone."

"Then who does? Sir, I - "

"Harry, please relax," Dumbledore chortled, "or Madam Pomfrey will have me thrown out."

Harry swallowed and looked around him; a table between him and Draco were piled high with what looked like half the candy shop. "Draco, we've got gifts."

"You've got gifts," Draco said, not sounding upset. "Only Ron and Hermione - and Neville," he added, nearly forgetting the round-faced boy, "only they got me gifts. Everybody's convinced you were the real hero."

"Now, what happened down in the dungeons between you and Professor Quirrell is a complete secret," Dumbledore began again, "so, naturally, the whole school knows. I believe your friends Misters Fred and George Weasley were responsible for trying to send you a toilet seat. No doubt they thought it would amuse you. Madam Pomfrey, however, felt it might not be very hygienic, and confiscated it."

"How long have I been in here?" asked Harry.

"Three days," Draco responded before Dumbledore could. "Ron and Hermione told me. I woke up this morning, you've woken up just now."

"But sir, the Stone - "

Dumbledore sighed. "I see you are not to be distracted. Very well, the Stone. Professor Quirrell did not manage to take it from you. I arrived in time to prevent that, although you were doing very well on your own, I must say."

"You got there? You got Hermione's owl?"

"We must have crossed in midair. No sooner had I reached London than it became clear to met that the place I should be was the one I had just left. I arrived just in time to pull Quirrell off of you - "

Guilt washed over Draco. He should have stayed awake, he should have tried to move, he should have tried to do something...and Harry had nearly died.

"It was you?" Draco heard the disappointment in Harry's voice.