Chapter 5
McGonagall had, in fact, not been awake, and she was not happy. She sat at her desk with robes pulled over her nightgown, hair wildly untamed and frizzing around her head like a mane. I guess I know why she’s a Gryffindor, Harry couldn’t help but think.
“Miss Granger. Mister Potter; Weasley. I hope you’ve got a good reason for bursting into my office at such an ungodly hour and waking me up while reeking of pond water.”
Harry’s two friends turned to look at him and he sighed. “I… I have concerns about the potential of another horcrux.”
McGonagall’s fingers twitched across the spread of her large desk, her right hand drumming against the solid wood once before stilling. “Go on, mister Potter.”
Harry swallowed, glancing at Ron and Hermione. Ron nudged him and smiled, Hermione took his wrist and squeezed. “I… Last week I found Malfoy, and-”
“Draco?” McGonagall interrupted, eyes widening. “You found him? Nevermind that, you think he’s involved in a horcrux? Potter, you should know as well as I do that mister Malfoy has no interest in-”
“Headmistress, please,” Hermione interrupted. “We don’t think Mal… Draco is up to anything. We were actually trying to help him.”
“He’s on the school grounds,” Harry spoke slowly, trying to alleviate some of McGonagall’s confusion. “As a ghost.”
Her face seemed to drain of all color. “Are you sure of this, Potter?”
“Yes, but he’s not entirely dead,” Harry hurried on, “his body is in the lake and he- he’s alive but barely, but when I touched him because we had to make sure he was alive before we tried to help him stop being a ghost it was like I was touching Voldemort. It- there was excruciating pain all over my body and- and- I got sucked into a memory, one of my own, and blacked out at the bottom of the lake and Ron had to come get me and we think he was made a horcrux somehow.”
Harry gasped for breath at the end of his rant. Ron patted him on the back, resting a hand on his shoulder. Harry felt a bit of weight lift off his chest at the calming gesture.
McGonagall stood. “Take me to him.”
“He’s not very happy, at the moment, headmistress,” Harry warned. Her stare hardened.
“Now, Potter.”
He shuddered but nodded. McGonagall pulled her robes tighter to herself and followed them down the steps.
“How, exactly, did you find mister Malfoy, Potter?” She asked.
“I… Well, I asked his friends if he was here and they said yes, but no one could tell me where he was, so I used the map and… Well, his ghostly tie to his body must be strong, because he can’t be seen or even talk if he’s not outside the castle. I talked and he led me to the lake- I used the map, of course, because I couldn’t see or hear him.”
“And you didn’t come get me because?”
Harry winced. “I assumed you already knew, and until more recently, I didn’t realize that he hadn’t been… Found. That his body was still here. I assumed he was just a ghost who couldn’t move on and was denying that they were dead. Then he didn’t want to be found because he thought he had a chance to come back to life, and that if you removed his body from the lake, he’d lose that chance.”
“I presume you told him about your horcrux suspicion, then?” McGonagall inquired, her voice tight with emotion.
“Yes. He’s… Coming to terms with it.”
McGonagall nodded. “I see.”
They pushed the front doors open, and Harry pointed towards the dock where Draco Malfoy still sat. McGonagall’s breath hitched, like she didn’t want to believe it, and she picked up the pace enough that Harry, Ron and Hermione had a hard time keeping up without nearly jogging at her side.
Malfoy turned as McGonagall’s steps, clipped from her heels, headed down the dock.
“Mister Malfoy.”
“Headmistress.”
Malfoy stood to face her. They were nearly the same height, but she was still just that little bit taller than him.
“What have you done, Draco?”
Malfoy’s eyes widened somewhat. “I didn’t want to be a horcrux, McGonagall! You surely can’t believe-”
“I’m not talking about some ridiculous horcrux, Draco, I’m talking about this!” She waved her hands about before bringing them up, trying to cup his cheeks and wincing when her hands drifted through skin that wasn’t there. Now, Draco looked ashamed. “What happened? When? Why didn’t you try to alert me? A student? Anybody?”
Malfoy resolutely looked at his feet. “I thought if you knew my where-abouts you’d have to report me to the ministry. I’m breaking my parole, not working on the castle, and even if I was revived by your means, I’d be sent to Azkaban.”
McGonagall positively bristled. “Mister Malfoy, if you think I would let one of my students go to Azkaban because of an attempt on their life that left them, what, comatose, you’re sorely mistaken. I told you you’re not alone anymore. You don’t have to figure everything else out by yourself.” She lifted her hands again, placing a hand against his cheek, even though she couldn’t feel it, and held it there. “Now please, mister Malfoy. Tell me who did this, so we can try to figure out some answers.”
Harry winced, glancing at Ron and Hermione, who were watching with rapt attention but would occasionally glanced away as if they felt guilty for watching.
The sound of an abrupt cry brought Harry’s attention back, and he found that it was Malfoy. He was sobbing, reaching out as if to touch McGonagall, looking for comfort. “I did it! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to! I- I just stepped off, I thought I might have a chance to turn around if I changed my mind, but the water was so deep and-and I couldn’t swim and… And…” Malfoy broke off into another fit of sobs, burying his face in his hands.
McGonagall’s shoulders dropped as Malfoy cried. Ron looked green in the face and turned away, and Hermione’s eyes widened as she touched her fingertips to her lips in shock.
Eventually, McGonagall cleared her throat and brought her hands to her face. “Please compose yourself, mister Malfoy.”
It only took three shuddering breaths for Malfoy to obey the request, drawing his hands away from his face. It was almost impressive, how he went from sobbing into his hands to standing with a mostly neutral expression, shoulders squared. The only thing that gave him away were his shiny cheeks and glossy, red-rimmed eyes.
“We’re going to do a few things,” McGonagall spoke, her voice firm but not unkind. “We’re going to get your body out of the lake- Ah, no complaints, mister Malfoy. We will then bring you to the infirmary, where we’ll try to further hypothesize on why you could be alive. We’re not going to kill you on the whim of you being a horcrux, you understand?”
Malfoy nodded stiffly, swallowing as he pressed his palms over his cheeks and rubbed slightly, ridding them of the wetness but leaving them a bit darker than usual. Had he been alive, Harry would have seen them so red with irritation. “Yes, McGonagall.”
She then turned towards the three of them and Malfoy resumed looking at his bare feet. “Miss Granger, please return to the Eighth Year dorms and retrieve Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott. You have my express permission to enter the boy’s dormitories to do so. Potter, you’ll speak to me about the horcruxes. Weasley, please go retrieve some gillyweed from Slughorn’s stores. The password is Higgle Horn- though I have a sneaking suspicion it will already be unlocked. Grab enough for two people, and prepare to go for another swim.”
Ron bit back a groan and simply nodded, turning to Hermione and taking her hand as they walked back up to the castle together.
“Now, Harry.” McGonagall was somewhat more relaxed now and had used his given name. “Fill me in, in more detail, on why exactly you think Draco here is a horcrux, and how you know he’s still alive.”
Harry went into the explanation again, trying to make it all neat and concise for her to both understand and believe. She didn’t seem apt to not trust him, however, and simply nodded, listening on in silence. Malfoy stood nearby, looking uncertain in an equal amount of silence as the Headmistress.
By the time he was finished, she didn’t speak for several moments. “Harry,” she finally spoke, tilting her head, “if he was the horcrux, why would you hurt?”
“Erm… My mother’s magic? Protecting me? Trying to alert me that Voldemort is still here?”
McGonagall nodded slowly. “I see. However, you are aware that the blood Voldemort took from you to make himself is gone. And if I understand correctly, that blood was the only thing keeping your mother’s protection alive for so long. Now that the blood form of Voldemort is gone, so would the protection. The pain you feel, while reminiscent of a horcrux, I don’t believe could possibly be Voldemort’s doing.”
Harry opened his mouth, then shut it again. “I… But… I can’t be another horcrux. I already died, and he died shortly after. There’s no way-”
“Harry, you’re not understanding me,” she shook her head firmly. “This isn't Voldemort’s doing. You said so yourself- the pain is different. The memory was your own. Your scar didn’t hurt. All the things that made your connection to Voldemort are gone.”
Harry swallowed thickly. “Then…” He shook his head. “Even if he’s not a horcrux, why would it hurt so badly to touch him? Why the flashback?”
She looked to Malfoy, then, who looked startled at the sudden attention. “I don’t bloody know! I jumped in, panicked, blacked out and woke up mostly dead!”
She tutted. “Language, Draco.”
A few moments later, five more students appeared. All of their friends.
Pansy stood furthest from Harry as possible. Malfoy noticed and rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything.
“Gillyweed, Mister Weasley?” McGonagall spoke, holding out her hand.
Ron reached down into his pocket, hastily shoving the bag of the slimy substance into her hand. She nodded curtly, using her wand to draw it out and split it into two even parts.
“Ronald Weasley, Blaise Zabini. You’ll be retrieving Malfoy’s body from the lake. Malfoy, lead them. Granger and I will be casting warming charms to keep you warm during. Now, eat up.”
Apparently, Hermione had briefed them, because they didn’t look too shocked. Just somewhat angry and tired. Ron and Zabini stepped forward, taking the gillyweed and eating it, eyeing each other with mutual mistrust as they stepped towards the lake.
“Warming charm, Mione?” Ron requested, glancing back at her. She nodded and did the incantation, watching as a bit of color came back to his cheeks. He smiled, and a few minutes later, the two of them were off, led by the ghost of Draco Malfoy.
Immediately, Harry turned to Hermione. “It’s not Voldemort,” he blurted, and then went into the explanation that McGonagall had, careful to not sound too gossip-y since she was still right there next to them. Hermione’s brows furrowed in thought. Parkinson had left and was now standing on the edge of the dock, watching the water nervously.
“We’ll have to see if anyone saw anything. Headmistress McGonagall, when did Malfoy go… missing?” Hermione asked, careful with her phrasing.
The headmistress looked her over once, then turned to Harry. “I’m afraid the last I saw of him was the thirteenth of June before he took his break.”
Harry’s heart plummeted. “That’s when I came to check on the castle. I was here. I- Merlin, I spoke to him! He-” Harry’s eyes widened. “He killed himself after I spoke to him?”
“Do not go thinking something so rash that you caused this, mister Potter,” McGonagall spoke firmly. “Malfoy had been having some… complications long before that date.”
Harry swallowed thickly. He’d seen Malfoy’s shoes and robes and… And he’d been overtaken by pain.
Did he somehow know that Malfoy had died? Could he have felt it?
He raised his wand and softly spoke, “accio Draco Malfoy’s clothing.”
The sick sound of something being suctioned out of the mud sounded out not too far away, and Harry caught the object flying at him not moments later. A shoe, then another, soaking wet and covered in mud. Socks, next, and then, from much further away- nearly half-way across the shore, a heavy, moldy smelling robe.
He dropped them at his feet, taking a step back and, for what felt like the millionth time, feeling faint.
He could have at least hoped that Malfoy had waited a few days. Hoped that Malfoy hadn’t drowned himself while Harry was walking around the castle, joking with McGonagall and complimenting the student’s work on repairing the castle. But no. Those were the same clothes sitting beside him on the dock when Harry had spoken to him.
He spoke up. “When I left, after the tour, I felt a blinding pain. It was in my head, but not my scar, and I thought I was just worried about leaving Hogwarts again, or lingering black magic trying to hold onto me, or something. I assume it was around the same time Malfoy…” He glanced at the dock, gnawing at his bottom lip. “I don’t know. I don’t know if that’s relevant, but I thought I should mention it.”
McGonagall’s lips pursed and Hermione frowned deeply. “Harry, you know you should tell us about that sort of thing-”
Her lecture was cut short, however, by Ron and Zabini breaching the surface of the water, gasping for air. A limp Draco Malfoy hung between them, a pale arm slung over each of their shoulders, feet dragging. Pellucid Malfoy followed shortly behind, glancing nervously at his body and then the two carrying it.
“I’ve got him,” Zabini spoke, his voice gruff as he took Malfoy’s arm from around Ron’s shoulder and grunted as he hefted him up into his arms bridal style. Ghost Malfoy scowled.
“That’s humiliating, Blaise. Spare me some dignity.”
“You already have green hair,” Parkinson snapped, jumping Harry somewhat- he hadn’t noticed her coming close again. “You can’t possibly look any more stupid.”
“Blind bint- you don’t even need green hair to look stupid,” Malfoy snapped back, sneering. “It just comes naturally to you.”
Harry then watched, in shock, as they all burst into giggles. McGonagall cleared his throat and they all got serious again.
“Infirmary, all of you. Now.”