Draco’s dulcet tones sliced through Harry’s awakening mind like a thermal lance, spurring the headache gnawing at his temples to chew through the rest of his brain.

Light blazed through Harry’s eyelids, burning his sore corneas, and he flopped a hand over his face “Urgh!”

A warm, strong arm slipped behind his shoulders and, cushioning his head on a soft bicep, lifted Harry. A cup was pressed against Harry’s lips and cool liquid slid down his throat. “Errrgtfuh!”

“Water” a familiar voice suggested and another glass, this time of blissfully sweet, pure water, was offered. Harry gulped it down greedily but, before he could take more than a couple of sips, the glass was removed.

“No more, now. You’ll make yourself sick.”

“Redy sick” Harry protested, his messy, raven head lolling against Severus’ arm.

“Will he be okay?!” Draco asked, struggling into a sitting position, which, with one arm in a sling, wasn’t an easy task. He peered over at Harry, looking upset.

Severus, his hair matted with grease, dirt and dust and his travelling robes crumpled and muddy sneered, did not trust himself to speak lest he disturb the child in his arms. Lucius, whose robes, while not exactly askew, were far from their customary smooth, perfect lines, also fumed in silence. It had not been a good night.

“He’s fine, dear” said Madam Pomfrey, bustling over to Harry and casting a diagnostic “Soon be right as rain. A good thing Quirinus discovered you all in time. Going after the Philosopher’s stone, I’d have never believed it!”

Memory flared in Harry’s brain: Quirrell!

“Quirrell in’ocent. Not ‘is faul’.” Harry muttered, shifting in Severus’ arms and opening his eyes. “Oww!”

Severus raised his wand and dimmed the lights “Better?”

“Yeah” Harry muttered, rubbing his eyes. Although the headache had gone, he felt like a hippogriff had stamped all over his body and the least said about the taste in his mouth, the better.

“We know it’s not Quirrell’s fault!” piped up Draco “He came out carrying you. Which is how I got this” Draco indicated his arm.

“What happened?” Harry gasped, staring at the sling.

“Well, I went to stab him, then I saw that you were in the way and the sword kind of… slipped a bit.” Draco explained, blushing.

Lucius’ mouth twisted “The sword which you shouldn’t have touched, much less been swinging around like a demented Pict!”

“Ah, yes” beamed Dumbledore, sweeping into the Infirmary “My congratulations, Mr Malfoy, on your discovery. The legendary sword of Gryffindor!”

The colour drained from Draco’s face “Gryff… but! But it’s silver! Slytherin silver! And, anyway, only a true Gryffindor and wield Gryffindor’s Sword…” Draco’s voice trailed off into horrified silence.

Lucius raised an eyebrow “Well, Draco, perhaps we’d better ask Professor Dumbledore to summon us the Sorting Hat. Not only do you partake in Gryffindor-esque heroics, you do so whilst waving Gryffindor’s Sword. It appears that you are in the wrong House.”

“No!” Draco begged. “I’m not a Gryffindor! I’m not!”

“Calm yourself, Master Malfoy.” Dumbledore said kindly “Master Nott, Master Zabini and our poor Ms Granger have explained the, ah, events of this evening, Mr Malfoy, and it appears young Draco Malfoy was, in fact, the voice of reason throughout.”

“Hermione… you said ‘poor Ms Granger’” Harry stated, his stomach turning somersaults “Is she okay?”

“Ms Granger and Masters Nott and Zanini escaped the corridor uninjured. Apparently, Ms Granger met Mr Malfoy in the Entrance Hall, and, having escorted Ms Granger to Professor McGonagall’s office, Mr Malfoy entered the Third Floor Corridor. It seems that he was of some practical assistance in quenching Pyrianus’ Pyre.” the Headmaster added, amusement twinkling in his blue eyes.

“What?” Harry gasped “You got through the Devil’s Snare and the Chess-set and everything, by yourself?”

“Yes, Mr Potter,” sighed Lucius, rolling his eyes, “I assure you that, even as an adult with a mere ten OWLS, seven NEWTS and two Masteries, I somehow managed to overcome the same obstacles that a group of First Years vanquished.”

Severus smirked “Mr Malfoy decided that, as time was at a premium, a series of rather enthusiastic blasting curses was a proportional response. Professors Sprout and McGonagall, it seems, did not take into account that a sufficiently motivated party might not consider waking the entire school and, indeed, county to be a disincentive.”

“I thought we were in the Blitz” grumbled Madam Pomfrey. “Scared me out of my wits, it did.”

Draco giggled but stopped when Lucius fixed him with a stony look.

“Um… what’s happened to Professor Quirrell?” Harry asked, to break the heavy silence.

“Professor Quirrell is currently being treated at St Mungos, Harry.” Professor Dumbledore said gently “It appears that he is suffering from acute malnutrition, dehydration and exhaustion, the normal side effects of prolonged Possession.”

“Possession!” Draco and Lucius gasped.

“Yeah, Voldemort was possessing him” Harry said quickly “It wasn’t his fault! He tried to stop him but Voldemort was too strong!”

Lucius, white with anger, spun to face Professor Dumbledore and opened his mouth, obviously intending to flay the Headmaster for his incompetence.

“Yes, Voldemort’s prowess in mind magic is legendary” said Professor Dumbledore gently “Indeed, during the last war, he placed many powerful wizards under the imperius curse. Wizards who were acquitted by the Wizengamot. Is that not true, Mr Malfoy?”

Lucius closed his mouth and said quietly “Very true.”

“What’s going to happen to him, though?” asked Harry, upset.

“Professor Quirrell has decided that, on leaving St Mungos, he will take a lengthy sabbatical.” Professor Dumbledore explained kindly, “I believe that, after his ordeal, poor Quirinus wishes to spend some time with his family.”

Lucius raised an eyebrow, familiar with the euphemism.

“However, I have long considered it regrettable that Muggle Studies is only an optional, Third Year course and, more unfortunately still, Wizard Culture is not studied at all. As Professor Quirrell has NEWTs in both History of Magic and Muggle Studies, perhaps, in a year or so’s time, he may be induced to return to Hogwarts to teach a combined course.”

“We did that, though!” Draco said pertly. “In the DA!”

Professor Dumbledore smiled. “Indeed, perhaps, you might be so good as to transcribe your group’s curriculum, for Professor Quirrell’s perusal. Wholesome, absorbing activity would be beneficial, I believe.”

Draco beamed proudly at Harry, who gave him a covert ‘thumbs up’.

“Now, children, I think that it is time for you to rest. I can imagine” the old Headmaster said, eying their sombre-looking fathers, “that a good night’s sleep will prove necessary.”