Hufflepuff Out the Hole
When Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy landed in front of the maze on the back of a dragon, the crowd couldn't quite decide how to react. Half of them cheered as their arrival marked the ending of the third task, while the other half murmured confusedly, probably due to Draco's presence.
Draco sighed deeply, dreading what was to come. He didn't want to have to come clean about the scheme he had been running all year, but he knew he had no other option. He could not lie and kidnap his way out of this one.
Draco met Harry's eyes, to find the same grim, worried feelings reflected there. Though, Harry was most likely worried about the return of the Dark Lord, rather than getting caught for any crimes.
The two of them slid off the dragon's back. Draco, despite everything, felt his knees go weak with gratitude for being on solid ground again.
Dumbledore approached them first, his eyebrows knitted together in concern.
“Harry, what is the meaning of this?” he asked, looking from Harry to Draco and back again
Draco turned around to face the dragon one last time. “You’re going to want to leave,” he signed. “This won’t be pretty.”
“But everything’s pretty near you,” the dragon signed back, biting its lip flirtatiously.
“Please, not now!”
“Oh, okay, Handsome.” The dragon winked. “But I’ll be back, don’t worry.”
The Short-Snout spread its wings and flew off into the distance. Draco watched it for a moment, before turning away and focusing on the situation at hand.
“Sir,” Harry said. “Voldemort’s back. The Cup was a portkey and Voldemort’s back.”
Dumbledore’s expression hardened. He opened his mouth to say something, but he was interrupted by Bagman coming up to them.
“Harry Potter!” he said, as if nothing was wrong. “You won! Congratulations! I told you you had it in the bag, man.”
“Ludo, please,” Dumbledore admonished, and Bagman stopped, embarrassed. “Harry, follow me up to my office. Mr. Malfoy, I expect you’ll want to come too.”
***
Draco followed Dumbledore into his office, and sat down in one of the two empty chairs sitting in front of the Headmaster’s desk. Harry slipped into the other chair, face paler than usual, exhausted. Draco couldn’t help but pick at his cuticles, nervously awaiting for the truth to come out.
Dumbledore peered across the desk at them, his blue eyes piercing behind his half-moon spectacles.
“You’ve both been through quite an ordeal tonight, and there’s a lot we need to discuss,” Dumbledore said, folding his hands. “But we shall start with the most pressing concern. The cup was a portkey, and the two of you came face to face with Lord Voldemort.”
Draco flinched, and Harry swallowed hard.
“I’m sure it was an experience neither of you would like to relive. However, forgive me, but I must ask you to do exactly that and relive it, just this once,” Dumbledore said. “Please start from the beginning, and detail exactly what went down tonight.”
“Well,” Harry started after an awkward pause. “The cup took us to this graveyard, Wormtail made this potion for Voldemort, and then we played… card games.”
“Card games,” Dumbledore repeated slowly.
“Yeah, first we played Go Fish, but he got mad because he was losing, so we started playing Uno.”
Dumbledore blinked. “I’m sorry, I’m not sure I understand.”
“He cheated, sir,” Harry explained. “He cheated at Go Fish, who does that? And then he went on and forgot to say Uno.”
“What I don’t understand is, why were you playing Muggle card games with Lord Voldemort?”
Understanding flashed on Harry’s face. “Oh, well Malfoy polyjuiced into me, and so Voldemort didn’t know which one of us he needed to kill. So we played cards to kill the time.” "...I see," Dumbledore muttered after a pause, still rather confused. “Mr. Malfoy, do you have anything to add?”
“Yeah, I didn’t even want to play cards. I mean, isn’t that sort of a poor person game?” Draco asked in the hopes to lighten up the mood. For some reason, Dumbledore wasn't amused by this statement.
Dumbledore inhaled deeply. “Harry, could you please tell me what exactly was in the potion Wormtail made for Voldemort?”
“Oh, sure,” Harry said. “Bone of his father, flesh of his servant, and blood of his enemy.”
Dumbledore leaned forward in a strangely urgent fashion. “He took your blood to make it?”
“Both of our blood,” Draco said, wrinkling his nose and rubbing his arm wound.
“Well, seeing as you were Polyjuiced into me, it was still my blood,” Harry pointed out.
“Was it? Do you change internally under polyjuice too?” Draco asked, genuinely curious.
“I don’t know, you tell me, you’re the one who’s been using it all year!”
Dumbledore held up a hand, to silence their argument. He tapped his fingers on his desk in a slow, rhythmic way, lost in thought. “I believe that answers all my questions regarding Lord Voldemort. Now, we have something else to discuss.”
Draco chewed on the inside of his cheek, hoping Dumbledore didn’t mean what he thought he meant. He wasn’t ready to give up his Cedric Diggory persona yet.
“Ever since Mad Eye Moody’s unfortunate and quite unbelievable death in the Great Hall, I had my suspicions something, excuse my word choice, suspicious was going on. My suspicions were confirmed earlier today when I overheard you, Harry, talking to Bagman before the third task. My only question is, why, at any time this year, didn’t you come to me directly to bring this to my attention?”
Harry’s shoulders hunched in embarrassment. “Hermione told me not to. She said if people found out Malfoy was cheating the respect of Wizarding Britain was on the line. But I guess that sounds kind of stupid, now-”
“Not stupid at all, my dear boy,” Dumbledore said kindly. “Your friend had an excellent point. The Tournament is not something to be taken lightly. Even now, if people were to find out how horribly unfair it has been, seeing as three of the four Champions were not truly themselves, I fear there may be dire consequences. Which is why I plan to keep it all...a secret."
Draco and Harry both perked up in their chairs, confused and, at least in Draco's case, hopeful.
"But sir," Harry said. "Everyone saw Draco arrive with me on the dragon. How will you explain that?"
"Ah, isn't that the beauty of magic, my dear boy?" Dumbledore asked. "I shall simply tell everyone that it was not the real Draco Malfoy but some sort of shape-shifting creature - a boggart, perhaps - and no one will ever question it."
"A boggart? I don't want people thinking I'm scared of Malfoy!" Harry complained at once.
"That's an excellent idea," Draco hurried to say. "And don't worry Potter, everyone already knows that you're scared of me."
"Yeah, in your dreams, Malfoy."
"In your dreams you mean. Your nightmares to be exact!"
Dumbledore cleared his throat pointedly. "I will handle the details of the explanation at a later date. I will also have to come up with a reason as to why Cedric Diggory never came out of the maze. Though, that shouldn't be a problem either. I shall simply say that he, not unlike Fleur Delacour, was eaten by a plant and taken straight to the Hospital Wing."
Neither Draco nor Harry could find any faults with this explanation.
Dumbledore continued. "All of that aside, I must say that I have a very particular proposition for you, Mr. Malfoy.”
Dumbledore turned to him, and Draco wanted to disappear into his chair.
“I have already recovered all your kidnapping victims from their very crude prison. Mr. Diggory, Miss Chang, Mr. Krum, Miss Delacour, Mr.-”
“Stupid Glasses,” Draco said covering his ears. “His name is Stupid Glasses, and I will not learn his real name.”
Dumbledore’s eyes widened, looking at Draco like he was crazy. He glanced at Harry, to see if he had an explanation, but Harry simply shrugged, used to Draco’s shenanigans by now.
“Okay - Stupid Glasses,” Dumbledore corrected himself. “As well as someone you know as Mad Eye Moody but who is really Barty Crouch Jr. - a Death Eater that had infiltrated the school and is the reason Harry had to compete in this Tournament in the first place.”
Harry straightened in his seat. “A Death Eater? Moody was a Death Eater all along?”
“Rather, a Death Eater disguised himself as Moody, in the very same way Mr. Malfoy disguised himself as his classmates.” Dumbledore frowned deeply. “The method was so similar in fact, I worry that perhaps Mr. Malfoy took inspiration from him.”
“Inspiration?” Draco scoffed, offended. “I thought of it all myself, thanks! Maybe Barty Crouch What’s His Name took inspiration from me!”
Dumbledore’s frown softened, relief clear in the lines on his face. “A horrible coincidence then,” he said. “Regardless, all those you kidnapped, with the exception of Crouch who is in Azkaban, are currently in the Hospital Wing being treated for malnutrition, hair regrowth, and psychological trauma. I have struck a deal with them. They agreed to keep their experiences a secret and avoid the trouble that would come with this ordeal being made public, and in return they simply want a little…revenge.”
“Revenge?” Draco gaped, his stomach twisting with nerves. “You don’t seem like the type to promote revenge. Aren’t you all about forgiveness and love and all that nonsense?”
“I believe in actions having consequences, Mr. Malfoy,” Dumbledore said, in a carefully measured tone. “Which is why, in just a few moments you will come to the Hospital Wing with me and deliver a formal apology to all those you hurt.”
Draco paused. That didn’t sound so bad. Figures, the old man would equate apologizing to revenge. It was laughable that Draco was actually worried for a second. A calmness spread through him.
“Alright,” he agreed, easily. Sure apologizing was a bit demeaning, but he could just lie his way through it. He really had nothing to lose.
Despite his newfound relief, the smile that Dumbledore shot him next sent a chill down his spine.
***
Draco was used to people hating him. As a Slytherin, he received hatred from every house but his own. However, he didn’t often find himself on the receiving end of this many glares. He stood in the Hospital Wing behind a wooden podium that Dumbledore materialized out of thin air. All of his victims sat on the beds in front of him, and they all wore similar expressions of disgust and rage. Harry was there too, though he looked more tired than angry.
Even Cedric Diggory, who was practically known for his smile, frowned at him.
Draco supposed that’s what he gets for keeping him locked in a trunk all year.
Dumbledore stood off to the side, watching all the students and playing mediator. “I will allow each of you a turn to tell Mr. Malfoy here anything you would like to tell him,” he said. “Miss Delacour, why don’t you go first.”
Fleur didn’t waste any time telling Draco exactly what she thought. “Well, you are a tiny, pathetic excuse for a ‘uman being, and you deserve to rot.”
Draco rolled his eyes. Why should he care what she thinks?
“Thank you, Miss Delacour,” Dumbledore said. “Mr. Krum?”
“This year vos horrible, because of you. Vot is wrong vith your head?"
Draco rolled his eyes once more.
"I wish my badger killed you instead of that random first year,” said S.G, who was next in line.
Draco turned to Dumbledore thinking he would say something about this admission of murder, but he didn’t.
Cho was next. "I don't think there's much to say that hasn't already been said,” she shrugged. “You’re a terrible person, and you’re going to get what’s coming to you.”
Draco’s eyes were getting sore from all the rolling.
“Harry,” Dumbledore said. “Do you have anything to add?”
Harry looked surprised to be addressed, shrugging. "Malfoy already knows how I feel about this. I’ve been telling him all year.”
“Very well,” Dumbledore said. Then all heads turned to Cedric Diggory, the last to speak. “Mr. Diggory?”
Cedric’s frown was fixed on his face. His brown eyes, usually so alight with warmth, were cold and sad. The somber expression didn’t fit on his face, and it unsettled Draco deeply.
“At first I was really angry at you,” Cedric said, pinning Draco with those sad eyes. “I was angrier than I ever was in my whole life. I didn’t understand why you would do something like this to me. But then I realized, it was never personal. You would have done the same thing to anyone if it served you. I stopped being angry with you after that.”
Cedric took a pause, and Draco nodded, satisfied. He arguably hurt Cedric the most out of any of his victims, and yet Cedric wasn’t even angry! It validated Draco's belief that all his other victims were overreacting. After all, if Cedric wasn't cross with him, surely none of the others had any right to be.
“I started feeling sorry for you,” Cedric continued and Draco cursed inwardly at celebrating too early. “I feel sorry that you’re so bitter and jealous and lonely that you have to resort to identity theft to get attention.”
A reflexive scowl overtook Draco's face upon hearing the pity in Cedric’s words. He wasn’t bitter and jealous - and especially not lonely. Cedric was a fool for feeling sorry for him. His fists clenched with barely contained rage, as he fought the urge to send a nasty curse Cedric Diggory's way. That would give him something to feel sorry about.
“Draco,” Dumbledore interrupted his train of violent thoughts. “Now it is your turn to deliver a heartfelt apology to your classmates.”
Draco inhaled deeply, attempting to force the rage out of his bloodstream. “Yes,” he said calmly. “I am sorry.”
His victims stared at him, unimpressed.
“Well, that wasn’t very genuine.” Cho scoffed, crossing her arms.
The others murmured their agreements. It took everything in Draco not to scowl. What did they want him to do? Get on his knees and beg for their forgiveness?
“Perhaps telling them why you did it, would help them to connect with your apology,” Dumbledore advised.
“Alright,” Draco said, trying to organize his thoughts. Why did he do it? He knew why, of course, but somehow putting it into words made him oddly self-conscious. He rubbed the back of his neck and cleared his throat. “I did it because...I wanted to win the Tournament, obviously. But not for the prize money. I already have money. I guess the biggest reason was, I wanted to beat Potter.”
Everyone turned to look at Harry, who scratched his head, awkward under their stares. Draco continued.
“Potter always gets everything, and I thought that I deserved to have something good happen to me. So I came up with a plan to get it.”
Draco glanced at Dumbledore who nodded for him to continue. Draco licked his lips.
“And, well, maybe it got a little out of hand. I had to keep capturing anyone who was onto me, so that they wouldn’t ruin it, because as Cedric my life was…good. The tasks were unpleasant, yes, but everybody just seemed to like me so much…everyone was rooting for me to win. I couldn’t give that up. I- I guess all along I just wanted people to like me.”
His last sentence slipped out without his permission. But once it had it was too late to take it back. Draco glared at the floor, hating how emotional, how vulnerable he had sounded.
He decided to wrap it up before he could humiliate himself any more.
“But now everyone just hates me even more than before. So…I’m sorry.”
Draco didn’t dare look up from the floor at the faces staring at him. A heavy silence filled the Hospital Wing.
That is, until S.G broke it. “You kidnapped us, stole our identity, and kept us in a trunk. Do you really think saying sorry cuts it?”
“I do not care ‘ow sad you are zat nobody likes you,” said Fleur. “You still kidnapped us.”
“Have you ever thought that, maybe, people would like you more if you didn’t do evil things?” Cho pointed out.
Draco put his hands up in surrender. “Whoa, whoa, whoa! I said sorry, didn’t I? I did what you asked, you can’t keep attacking me!”
Dumbledore chuckled, low and merry. “It’s true, you did complete your end of the deal, Mr. Malfoy. But I do believe everyone still has a few more things to say, so, forgive me, but I believe you’ll have to stay here for the rest of the night.”
“Rest of the…what?”
Dumbledore was already retreating, moving towards the Hospital Wing door and opening it.
“Madam Pomfrey will be in her office if anything gets out of hand,” Dumbledore said, and with that he strode out the door. As he left, Draco heard a resounding locking noise, and instantly he realized that he was trapped here with people who were very, very angry with him.
Draco gulped as he turned from the locked door to meet the faces of his victims. To his great terror, they were no longer frowning.
They were smiling.
“Oh, yes, ve vill have lots of fun tonight, von’t ve Draco?” Krum asked, cracking his knuckles.
Draco spun around and bolted towards the door. He tried to wrestle the doorknob open, but it wouldn’t budge.
“Let me out!” he yelled, pounding on it as hard as he could.
A strong hand on his shoulder forced him back around, and Draco found himself trapped with his back against the wall, surrounded by his victims. Or should he say - his attackers!
Well…all of them except Cedric, Draco noticed peering over Cho’s head. Cedric was still sitting on his bed, talking to Harry. Typical Hufflepuff…of course he would be above revenge.
Draco didn’t have much time to ponder this, because before he knew it a fist slammed into his face. Pain shot through his jaw, and he couldn’t hold back the pathetic yelp that escaped his lips. Another fist connected to his stomach, sending him stumbling backwards. After that, so many punches descended on him that he wasn’t even able to distinguish one from the next, lost in a whirlwind of pain.
"This is for making me miss out on spending time with my friends!" Cho yelled, punctuating her statement with a strong punch to his cheekbone.
The others followed Cho's example, all yelling their own specific grievances.
"This is for making the trunk so small!"
"This is for that week you forgot to feed us!"
"This is for making us go to the bathroom in a tea cup!"
Draco wrinkled his nose. He forgot he had done that. Gross.
At some point during his beating, he found himself lying on the floor curled up in a ball to protect himself from the kicks that were being aimed at his ribs.
“Get his hair!” a voice yelled, but Draco was too out of it to tell who it was.
An excruciating pain met his scalp as each of them grabbed fist fulls of hair to tear out of his skull. He screamed until his throat was raw. When the pain finally stopped, Draco peered up through watery eyes to see clumps of his white-blonde hair all over their clothes and hands. He gingerly brought his hand up to his head, only to gasp when he found it bear. He was bald!
Draco’s vision went fuzzy and he knew he was seconds away from fainting - not due to his injuries but due to the emotional distress of being newly bald. But before he could slip away into unconsciousness, he felt himself be hoisted into the air, carried by strong arms.
Was he being saved? Draco’s sight swam as he tried to focus in on his rescuer. Upon seeing him, Draco’s hopes dashed. It was Viktor Krum, and he was carrying him towards Fleur and Cho who were holding open a trunk.
“No!” Draco groaned, as Viktor shoved him inside the trunk. It wasn’t a magically enlarged one, just a standard one. His bruised and broken limbs protested as he was forced to contort in order to fit inside. Then, Viktor slammed the lid down hard, leaving him in darkness.
Draco let out a groan again, as he was left alone with his many aches. It wasn’t long before his body simply gave out, and he was temporarily relieved from his misery.
***
When Draco awoke it was morning and he was alone in the Hospital Wing, in significantly better shape than he was in the previous night. Madam Pomfrey must’ve fixed him up while he slept. His broken bones all seemed to be fixed, and, most importantly, his hair had grown back.
He nearly cried in relief upon realizing, running his fingers through the silky locks over and over, promising to never take his hair for granted again.
Madam Pomfrey stood several feet away from him, staring off into the large window overlooking the grounds outside. She snapped out of it, after a few moments, sensing that Draco had awoken.
“Oh, hello Mr. Malfoy,” she said with a sigh.
“Hi,” Draco said, not sure what was wrong with her.
“Mr. Malfoy, do you ever feel like you don’t fit in?” she asked, still staring outside.
The word “no” was on the tip of his tongue, seconds from leaving him. But something made him hold it back. “Sometimes,” he said instead.
She nodded, wisely. “After you told me about Buckbeak I…haven’t been well,” she admitted, voice thick. “I think I’ve about had it with humans.”
Draco swallowed uncomfortably. “Oh?”
Tears shone brightly in her eyes. “I do everything to heal and help people…and then they turn around and break my heart. I can’t do it anymore, Mr. Malfoy. I wasn’t made to be cooped up in a castle all day. I was meant to fly.”
Draco watched in shock as Madam Pomfrey reached to her forehead and unzipped her human suit, revealing Fred Yamp Maome, her true identity.
Draco felt the odd urge to stop her. “But what about all the things you told me? About how you left your old life behind to make a better one? You can’t go back to your old days!”
Fred's beak quirked upwards, into something resembling a smile. “Oh, Mr. Malfoy. Life is all about change. It’s never set in stone. I’m not going backwards, I’m moving forwards! I’m going to be a good hippogriff, like I was always meant to be. Remember me.”
With that, Fred spread his wings and jumped out the window. Glass shattered, but it didn’t stop Fred, who simply soared above the grounds and into the sky. Draco watched as Fred got smaller and smaller, until he was a mere dot in the horizon.
Draco rubbed his eyes. He couldn’t process this. The only thing he knew was that he badly wanted the school year to be over.
***
In the last few days before the end of term, Draco mostly kept to himself. His victims kept their word, so no one knew what he had done, and yet he couldn’t help but feel an emptiness in chest, like everyone hated him anyways. He supposed that maybe he had gotten so used to being Cedric, he had forgotten how cold it was to be Draco Malfoy.
In the corridors, he saw all his old identities and it felt strange seeing them go about their lives when those had been Draco's lives just a few weeks prior. He saw Cedric talk to Shortnfat in the way he had talked to Shortnfat not so long ago. He almost missed the boy’s closeness, no matter how overbearing it was. But the truth of the matter was Shortnfat never loved him, he only ever loved Cedric. So when Shortnfat passed him without a glance, Draco could understand why.
Cedric, however, didn’t return Shortnfat’s affection, and was back to dating Cho. At least, that’s what Draco assumed was going on based on the soft looks the pair gave each other, and the scowl Harry Potter wore whenever he saw it.
During his free period, Draco strolled outside to sit under a tree, the castle growing far too stuffy for him. It seemed other students had the exact same idea, as, not ten minutes after Draco came outside, Harry Potter and his crew emerged as well. Only, along with the red one and the smart one, Ludo Bagman was trailing after him as well. Draco leaned forward to catch their conversation.
“I don’t want it!” Harry protested, as Bagman tried to force a bag in his arms. Draco realized that it must be the Tournament prize money.
“Just take the bag, man!” Bagman yelled, finally managing to shove the bag at him, and bolting away before Harry could hand it back.
Harry huffed in frustration, tossing the bag to the ground at his feet.
“I’ve never seen anyone get angry at someone for giving them money,” Ron muttered.
“Probably because you’re poor, Weasley,” Draco couldn’t help but say. The trio turned to stare at him, noticing him for the first time.
“Hi, Malfoy,” Harry said, lacking his usual anger. Draco stood, abandoning his tree in favor of coming closer to Potter.
"Hi, Potter," Draco responded. A beat of silence followed, where neither of them knew what to say. After everything they had went through together, particularly the time they spent with Voldemort, things had been annoyingly different between them. Less hostile.
Eager to break the awkward pause, Draco's gaze dropped to the bag of money that Potter found so inconvenient. Of course, Potter had to be all noble about even his prize for winning, no doubt believing that he didn't deserve it or some nonsense.
With a shake of the head, Draco offered a begrudging solution, “Why don’t you just split the money among the other Champions?”
“Yeah,” Harry said slowly, clearly appreciating the idea. “Yeah, I think I will. And I'll give some to Cho. And that random Hufflepuff you kidnapped, too.”
Draco grimaced. “Maybe skip the Hufflepuff, he’s pretty awful.”
“If you think he’s awful, it only makes me want to give it to him more,” Harry said, a smile stretching on his face. Draco, bit down his own smile, forcing his expression to remain neutral.
Hermione and Ron glanced from Harry to Draco with a mixture of confusion and disgust as they observed their interaction.
Draco scoffed. “Figures, Potter.”
Despite himself, he enjoyed being able to talk to Harry like this, without having to pretend to be all nice like he did when he was Cedric. It was refreshing, in a way, to just be Draco Malfoy again.
“Where’s Crabbe and Goyle?” Harry asked. Draco wasn’t sure why he was still making conversation, but he didn’t press the matter.
“Goyle’s cooped up in the common room. After getting eaten by that plant he’s too afraid to go outside anymore. And I hate Crabbe now, keep up.”
Harry held up his hands in mock surrender. “Sorry, I can’t keep track of everyone you hate,” he teased. “So what were you doing, anyway? Sulking under a tree? It seems unlike you, I mean don’t you have first years to bully?”
Draco opened his mouth to respond that he could bully more than just first years, but he was cut off.
“Harry,” Hermione interrupted. “Aren’t we going to Hagrid’s?:
“Oh, yeah,” Harry said, before turning back to Draco one last time. “Well, see you. Don’t commit any crimes.”
Harry, a humorous glint in his eye, reached out and gave Draco a chummy punch on the arm, resembling the one Draco gave him at the beginning of the year.
Draco rubbed his arm. “Don’t touch me, Potter,” he spat, but Harry was already leaving, Ron and Hermione following him and probably demanding to know what had just happened.
The run in with Harry wasn’t entirely unpleasant, as it did remind Draco of something. He felt more like himself than he had in weeks. At once he began heading back towards the castle. Hanging out alongside nature did seem like an awfully Hufflepuff thing to do. He could better spend his time up in his dormitory, thinking of summer plans.
And if, after speaking with Harry, his spirits were a little higher, and he returned back to his usual Malfoy-ish swagger - no one was there to point it out.
And if, when passing a group of first years, he made sure to shoot them the nastiest scowl he could muster, causing them to scramble backwards in fear…well no one saw that, either.
He smirked, amused by their reaction. He couldn't have done that while impersonating Cedric. He was going to be Draco Malfoy for the rest of his life, so he might as well make the best of it.
And after all, Draco Malfoy was practically known for his scowl.