Disclaimer: J.K. owns the Potterverse I'm just borrowing a few star systems. You won't even notice that they're gone – promise.
Chapter Two: The Master of Dracomon
Ron Weasley rolled over in bed and held a pillow down over his head. He gave a heart-felt groan and started counting under his breath in a vain attempt to distract himself from the noise. He hadn't had a good night's sleep all week, and before that he had been out on an assignment up North.
There had been a Werewolf sighting in Cheshire and the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures had asked the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to dispatch an Auror. Ron had been that Auror, he had plenty of experience in tracking Werewolves and capturing all sorts of magical creatures, he had expected a challenge none the less.
The "Werewolf" had turned out to be a large dog, a stray, and after spending days tracking the thing it had turned around and licked him! He was twenty-eight years old and one of the more experienced Aurors thanks to his experience dealing with the last of Voldemort's Death Eaters in his first few assignments, it had been ridiculous. The guys back at the office had laughed for days when he had told them that it had been a stray dog.
He had come home to something much worse than being the laughing stock of the office though. His apartment had burnt down because the Muggle who lived below him had left the chip-pan on. His entire apartment block had burnt down. Thankfully a lot of his clothes and belongings were kept in his office due to the twenty-four hour nature of his job.
"Five minutes sleep," he pleaded to empty space. "Just five minutes."
George had offered him a bed for the night. On retrospect he should have known better than to escape, but he consoled himself by telling himself that he had been very stressed out. The doctor had suggested he take a few weeks off in peace and quiet, and where better to spend those two weeks than with his older brother. George had apparently never heard of the words, peace and quiet though and there had been persistent bangs from the room deemed the "lab". It had been even worse when Fred had come over too.
So Neville Longbottom had offered him a place to stay after hearing him complain about his temporary residence. Ron had been wondering why the girls had been giggling all day when they had heard this. Again he cursed his lack of foresight and even his memory in this case.
Neville had grown up in his last few years at Hogwarts along with all of the other kids. Ron had seen a picture of Neville's father once and although he had his mother's hair colour he had his father's build, or at least he did now. Everyone had expected Harry to grow up and become a handsome lad, no-one had thought Neville would. He wasn't strictly tall, average height if anything, but he was broad shouldered and handsome. Ron and the other boys from Gryffindor had found the whole thing quite disconcerting.
He tried to think of a soundproofing charm off the top of his head. Hermione could have thought of one, he thought. Maybe the fire had been an omen, maybe it was time for him to move in with Hermione, she had a nice, little house in the Midlands and he knew he would be welcome there. He started to think of a way to ask her if he could move in with her, at lunch tomorrow he would ask her and then he could escape.
"God bless Hermione," he muttered and turned onto his front.
Then to add to his bliss there was silence except for the faint hooting of an owl outside. Ron grinned into his mattress and gave a great sigh of relief. He rolled back onto his front five minutes later and realised that after all that he wasn't tired any more, he groaned and swore.
*****
Harry sat in his kitchen at three in the morning sipping tea as he couldn't get to sleep either. He had arrived back at Herne's Grove, his home, at about midnight and he just wasn't tired at all. Trivia had coiled herself up on the kitchen table and was hissing softly at something in her dream. He leaned back and rubbed his eyes under his glasses.
"Are you not tired?" asked Gabrielle, at the top of the kitchen stairs.
"No, really," he said, taking another sip of tea. "You?"
"Yes, very much," she yawned. "I came down for tea."
"Help yourself," said Harry, gesturing towards the kettle. "Only bags though – I'm not a big tea drinker really."
"You 'ave never struck me as one," said Gabrielle, yawning again.
She poured herself a cup of tea and fetched a packet of chocolate biscuits out for herself out of the pantry while it brewed. She sat down opposite Harry at the table and stirred in some milk.
"A friend of mine used to say that putting milk in tea was a crime worthy of Azkaban…" mused Harry.
"'Oo?"
"Celea Leone," he said, taking a biscuit.
"'Oo was she? She was a she, yes?"
"Oh yeah – but she's the Master of Dracomon."
Gabrielle grinned at him, "Reminiscing about ze wonders of Dracomon is not somezing to be doing late at night, 'Arry."
"Why not?"
"Because zen you must ask questions? And Dracomon is ze source of questions. Never ze answers… Eet should not be zought of late at night."
Harry grinned at her, "Ever been, Elle?"
"Once of course, but one day I 'ope to see more of eet," said Gabrielle.
"You should, it's beautiful and they have the best library in the world after all," he said, smiling at her.
"What was eet your 'Ogwarts friends called ze competition - ze Quidditch Cup for library access?"
"You shouldn't mock the starting point of my career," said Harry with mock seriousness.
"Ah, no – I would never dream of eet, 'Arry," said Gabrielle, putting her hand on her heart. "But tomorrow we are going to see your godfazzer – go to sleep, hmm."
"You, Elle, sound like Brizo," said Harry, smiling at her.
Gabrielle raised an eyebrow, "Yes? Well you 'ave never grasped ze concept of doing zings for your own good."
Harry laughed and nodded. He pulled himself to his feet and picked up Trivia in his arms before following Gabrielle back up the stairs. When he reached his bed he collapsed onto it with a thud and if he had been conscious he would been amazed that he was able to fall to sleep the second his head hit the pillow.
*****
The Hogwarts party entered the vast entrance hall of Dracomon. Apparently this was one of the less dramatic and beautiful parts of the library. Harry couldn't help wondering what the rest of this grand place would look like if this was the plain part of it.
Dumbledore touched his shoulder and he turned to his Headmaster, "Yes, Professor?"
"I need you to take a letter to the Master of Dracomon,, Harry," Dumbledore told him. "The office will be clearly sign posted and if you do get lost just as one of the scholars, there are plenty of them around."
A stiff parchment was thrust into his hand and he was pointed in the direction of one of the many doors leading off the hall. He went through it as instructed and found the first sign carved at eye-level into the stone wall. For the Master's office he was to turn to his left and so Harry set off in that direction.
Hermione had given he, Ron and the rest of the Gryffindors a thorough history lesson on Dracomon. It wasn't just a library, it was a place of learning and the closest thing there was to a University of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Dracomon had been built underground, inside a mountain and there were rumours that deep below the more often used passages there were ancient species of dragons and other beasts still lurking.
Harry also knew that the place had been constructed to keep out intruders, or at least if they did get in, make it so they never got out again. The place was an absolute maze and Harry knew he was going around in circles. He sighed heavily and looked up at the sign carved into the stone, apparently they were new features.
"Are you lost, boy?"
Harry leapt around and his hand reached for his wand. But when he realised he was face to face with a smiling woman who looked quite pleasant his hand stopped and answered, "Yeah – I'm looking for the Master's office. I have a letter."
"I may be able to help you, come with me please," she said brightly.
She turned and walked swiftly up the corridor. Harry stood for a few moments before jogging after her. Surprisingly enough he had to keep up the pace as the woman was walking quite quickly. She lead him around so many turns Harry was sure he would never find his way back to the entrance hall again. Eventually they reached a large door, covered in faded, brown leather and brass studs. The woman opened the door and ushered him inside.
The room was long, like a gallery and was filled with stacks of books, piles of paper and intricate little gadgets. Harry thought it was a lot like Professor Dumbledore's except it was cluttered and hadn't received the attention of an army of House-Elves. At the end of the room was a large desk made of dark wood. Then to Harry's surprise the woman walked around the desk and sat down, still smiling broadly at him.
"Well then, Harry," she said. "What exactly do you have for me?"
"You're the Master?" asked Harry. "But you're – you're…"
"A female of the species," said the Master, still smiling. "It's only a title, Harry. Most people call me Celea Leone anyway. But there are lots of things that are only titles, some of them add rank of course and some of them add power. Invariable it's just a title, that rarely tells you who is behind the title… Useful thing to remember."
"I always pictured you older," said Harry, handing her the letter.
"I am quite old you know, Harry," she said. "Older than Dumbledore – easily older than him, in fact."
"How – okay then," said Harry, stopping himself from asking her how old she was.
"Would you like any tea, Harry?"
"Er… yeah."
She removed her wand and conjured up a set of two cups and saucers, "Do you take milk?"
"No," replied Harry uneasily.
"Ah, good boy – putting milk in tea is a crime worthy of Azkaban."
She handed him one of the cups and gestured to him to sit down in the chair before her desk. The Master took a sip of tea and blew on it afterwards with a chuckle. After taking another sip of tea she opened the letter and read through it closely. Harry began to wonder if she had forgotten he was there.
"I am five hundred and twenty six," she said suddenly, looking up from the letter.
"P – pardon?" spluttered Harry.
"The answer to your question."
"How did you?…" trailed off Harry.
"Your friend, Fleur Delacour, is a quarter Veela is she not? Well I am half Naiad…. Which are a bit like Veela if you are wondering," she said, looking back down at the letter.
"I've never heard of Naiads," said Harry, frowning.
"Probably not – they're not very popular in England," she told him and then her head jerked up. "Power is an interesting thing you know, Harry. And breaking curses is a very tricky business, but it can be done…"
Harry nodded, the Master appeared to be drifting off on a course of her own. So he just replied with something benign, "Yeah."
"One day you'll understand what I mean, Harry," she told him. "Until then I only ask that you remember that any curse can be broken… And that power is often over-rated and indeed you can have a title and a name, yet still be weak. Just remember that in your future life, Harry."
She pulled a piece of parchment out of her desk conjured a quill out of thin air. Harry watched her write very swiftly across the parchment and then fold it up and hand it to him, "Take this to Dumbledore."
"Okay…. Thanks…"
She beamed at him and settled back into her chair, "You'll understand what I mean one day, Harry. You really will."
Harry nodded once more and fled the room. To his surprise he was able to find his way back to the entrance hall without trouble, where there was a scholar waiting to take him back to his classmates. He mused over what the Master had said though and forgot about it when he rejoined his friends.
A/N: Sorry that wasn't a very good chapter was it? It was important to the story though and I couldn't think of another way of writing it. Trivia will be back in the next chapter though have no fear and we'll be seeing McKinnon Castle – where the Blacks live if you're interested. So keep reading.
