A/N: This is written for the QLFC dummy rounds

Team: Tutshill Tornadoes

Position: Keeper

Words: 1017

The Wrong Thing To Do

Draco Malfoy stood in front of the Vanishing Cabinet in the Room of Requirement. He was testing it, to see if his repairs had helped at all. A moment later, he opened the black cabinet and saw the green apple lying on the floor, a bite taken out of it.

"It works," he murmured. He was happy for a moment, delighted, even, until he remembered why he had fixed the Vanishing Cabinet in the first place.

Draco Malfoy was going to kill Albus Dumbledore, this year. It was his mission from Lord Voldemort. It was also his family's penance for the disaster at the Ministry of Magic the year before. Lord Voldemort had offered to make Draco a Death Eater, to give him an important mission, to give him honor. But Draco knew that Voldemort was just punishing him for his father's mistakes and Draco knew he couldn't refuse.

Draco wasn't sure if he could do it. He wasn't sure if he was the kind of person who could murder someone in cold blood. More importantly, he wasn't sure that it was right. It was the question stuck in the back of his head: is this the right thing?

Tossing the bitten apple to the side, Draco closed the door to the Vanishing Cabinet and ran his hand through his hair. To him, the mission was so simple it was complicated. Killing Albus Dumbledore should be simple: let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts, find Albus Dumbledore, and cast the Killing Curse. But Draco was afraid he wouldn't be able to do it.

Why should I? he thought as he walked to the birdcage a few feet away from the Vanishing Cabinet. Dumbledore's never done anything to me.

And it wasn't just the thought of murder that bothered Draco, it was that everyone expected him to accept the job and attempt to do it. And fail. Why Voldemort had asked him and not Snape to kill Dumbledore, Draco didn't care. He did care, however, that it was his hands getting dirty, his hands getting stained with the blood of Dumbledore.

These thoughts crossed through his mind as he placed one of the small birds from the birdcage into the Vanishing Cabinet. He sighed and closed the door. At any moment, the bird would disappear from the cabinet and appear in the identical one at Borgin and Burke's. Draco opened the door; the bird was gone.

The first thing came to Draco's mind was the thought of what the person on the other end would do to the bird. Probably kill it.

He began to regret putting the bird inside the Vanishing Cabinet, but knew it was necessary to check if living things could make it safely to the other side. That's when Draco knew he couldn't kill Dumbledore, that he would regret it, and that he would not be able to live with himself if he did.

Kill Dumbledore? An innocent man who had done no harm to Draco? Draco shook his head and leaned against a chair. It would be wrong and he knew it. Just like it was wrong to put the bird through the Vanishing Cabinet where a couple of merciless Death Eaters were waiting.

I shouldn't have done it, Draco thought. I'm not going to kill him. I can't. It's wrong.

And that was it. Draco wasn't going to kill Dumbledore; he was done doing Voldemort's dirty work because of his father's stupid mistakes. He was done doing the wrong things. The things that led him to be hated by almost everyone except the select few friends he had. The things that had ruined his chance at escaping the fate of becoming a Death Eater.

He was far too deep to come out, though. Even if he thought it was wrong, Draco wouldn't be able to stop now. Voldemort would kill him.

It's the wrong thing to do. It's the wrong thing to do, Draco thought. He couldn't stop thinking those words. How could I have turned out like this? How could I have thought this was right? How can I just follow the Dark Lord like this? Like a blind person following a dog.

But the more Draco thought the words, the more the sounded like mush. What was right and what was wrong? Draco had never questioned his morals before, or anyone's, really. Now he was beginning to question everyone's: his, Voldemort's, even Dumbledore's.

Draco's mind was flooding with thoughts of "right and wrong" when he heard a faint bump come from the Vanishing Cabinet. He opened the door and quickly spotted the little bird. It lay dead on the floor of the cabinet, it's neck twisted in an unnatural way. He picked up the dead bird and held it in his hand.

At least it was quick, he thought. Dumbledore's would be, too. And mine will if I don't… kill him.

Draco placed the bird in an empty box he found lying around, there were plenty of them in the Room of Requirement, and put it on a nearby desk. He made a mental note to go outside and bury it. He shut the door of the Vanishing Cabinet, deciding that he was done for the day.

The thought of dying like the bird had, mercilessly and alone, lingered in Draco's thoughts. If he wanted to live, he would have to kill Dumbledore. If he didn't want to be a murderer, he would be killed. His mind wandered to his family and few close friends. They would be disappointed if he didn't follow instructions, and devastated when he would be killed by the Dark Lord.

And Draco did want to live.

He sighed one last time, his mind made up. He walked out of the Room of Requirement, careful to check for passersby, the bird in the box all but forgotten, the thoughts running his head tangled and messy like yarn. Draco kept repeating the words in his mind to make himself believe it.

It's the right thing to do. It's the right thing to do.