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Purity stands alone.
|HPTC-Tom Marvolo Riddle|
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Part 5-The Dragonstaff
The Forbidden Forest...
The dragon started to spew out the red white flames.
No, no...please, HELP! Draco's mind screamed, as he jerked out of his trance-like state.
For a second, time slowed down. Draco saw a blinding flash of light right in front of him, the great Dragon roared and shrunk away from the light. It died down for a second so that Draco could see the source. A carved blue-silver crystal staff was suspended in front of him in midair.
Without thinking, almost instinctively, Draco closed his fingers around the gnarled surface. Another burst of light exploded from the staff. Draco felt the same warm sensation of butterbeer coursing through his body, but magnified. The staff felt a part of his mind and his body.
Like an inky snake, a green band twisted around the blue crystal. Draco looked up at the Dragon. It seemed confused and almost afraid. It let loose a bellow of defeat and rose into the air with quick beats of it's wing.
Draco breathed a sigh of relief. He turned, suddenly aware of Hermione behind him. "Are you alright?"
Her face was a mixture of curiosity and fear as she nodded yes. Her eyes were tremulous and on the verge of tears. Draco squeezed her shoulder and hugged her tightly.
Dumbledore was kneeling beside Ron, muttering an energy spell. His eyes jerked open and he sat up. "Professor Dumbledore! Hermione..?"
"Is quite all right, thanks to young Draco there." The look of suspicion did not leave Ron's eyes. Beside him, Harry awoke with a groan.
He looked around quickly and jumped to his feet.
"There's something queer about that Dragon...I know, I saw it." Hermione whispered. Harry glanced at Dumbledore and he nodded.
Harry took a deep breath. "Blacknight isn't an ordinary Dragon. You see, once Dementors suck out the souls of people, the souls change...a lot. The Dementors have no use for them so they transfer them into a living host-slave." Harry stopped. Utter shocked silence prevailed. "Blacknight is an host...but, Professor Dumbledore, what's it doing here?" He demanded, unnerved.
He could still remember the first time they had come face to face. How he learned the Dragon's secret and felt dangerously sorry for it.
"I do not know for sure, Harry, but I think it has something to do with Draco and Hermione." Dumbledore said, thoughtfully, looking at Draco's staff.
As he said the words, Professor McGonagall accosted Draco and Hermione. "Hermione, are you all right?" She asked, quickly brushing her down.
"Fine, Professor, really." Professor McGonagall and she had become quite close during the past year.
"And how about you, ahem, Malfoy?" She said, with an effort.
"I'm all right, thanks." He said, without thinking who he was talking to. The Professor looked surprised at the lack of scorn in his voice.
"Very lucky, too, Draco. I thought I might be of help, but I see that is not needed." A voice as powerful as Parthenope's but completely different spoke. There was intelligence, and not power behind the words.
"Celeste, you've come at an eventful time." Draco said, as the red robed visitor came into the light cast by Snape's wand. The face was pretty in a pointed sort of way, a fiery intelligence flickered in her grey eyes. She dropped her hood and shook out her short, shiny black hair.
She came to Draco and kissed him on the cheek quickly. He looked surprised and somewhat embarrassed.
"Ah, we have many unexpected visitors tonight, I see." Snape said, regarding Celeste with distaste. "Celeste." He said, nodding to her ungraciously.
"Celeste!" The difference in tone was jarring. "I see you've arrived early."
"Yes, Albus, I'm sorry about that." Dumbledore waved it off.
"What I am interested in, is Draco's staff." He said, turning to it. "May I have a look at it, Draco."
"Certainly." He said, completely uncertainly. He handed it to Dumbledore gently, feeling suddenly defenceless.
Dumbledore hefted it in his hand and his eyes widened. He ran his fingers over the silver and bronze dragons on the head. He cleared his throat and handed the staff back to Draco. "No doubt about it, this is RavenClaw's staff."
The assemblage gasped as one. Draco suddenly laughed. "But that's impossible!"
"Oh no, see for yourself." Albus showed him the almost invisible bronze inlay saying RavenClaw just below the head of the staff.
"But..." Draco said miserably. "But that would mean that I'm-...RavenClaw's heir..."
"No!" Exclaimed Celeste and Hermione together. Celeste closed her mouth and let Hermione explain.
"The Dragon Staff, known popularly as RavenClaw's staff because she wielded it, is well known. It has only been wielded by witches and wizards of great power and destiny, High Wizards. The staff exerts it's power over Dragons of all kinds and enables a kind of telepathy with Dragons." Hermione stopped and hesitated. "The person who wields it usually rides the Queen Dragon at the time. It's a matriarchal system."
"But how did I get chosen? And why now?" Draco gripped the staff more tightly.
"The staff chooses you and it comes to the Chosen One at a time of great need. Like when you were about to get burnt to a crisp." Celeste said, smiling wryly as Hermione grimaced.
Snape opened his mouth to say something when suddenly, a noise of beating wings emerged. "What?"
"I believe that's Draco's new steed." Dumbledore said as a large white Dragon came into view. Her spikes were dark green and she had eyes of the same colour. Her wings gleamed a dull gold and she exuded regality.
She touched down gracefully and bowed her head towards Draco. He took a step back, dumbfounded.
*Greetings wielder of the staff. Draco Malfoy. Whoever named you knew your destiny.*
"What?" Draco glanced around and spoke to the Dragon. "Are you speaking?"
*Telepathy, wielder of the staff. It will take some time to get used to.*
"Draco, we'll leave you to get accquainted." Dumbledore said softly. Draco nodded quickly.
*My name is Draco. Use it. What's yours?* He concentrated on the words.
*Dragon names are too long for mortals. You may call me Alyewn, Draco. Would you like to mount, do not be afraid.*
Draco stepped forward hesitantly. Alyewn lowered a glittering wing to the ground. She flexed it slightly and step-like grooves appeared. Draco climbed up easily and straddled in front of the wing joint.
*Remember, Draco, I'm not a broom. I just need you to guide me to do what you want.*
*I'll try, Alyewn.* He took a deep breath and dug his heels in slightly. Alyewn responded immediately.
With a beat of her great wings and a mighty roar, she rose into the air. Draco gulped and looked down. All semblance of a dance had disappeared, the whole school stood gawking at the dragon.
*Hey Alyewn, I've got this girl I want to impress...couldya give her a ride?*
Alyewn didn't answer but Draco could sense a sort of amused acceptance of his request. He squeezed the scales he was gripping instinctively and the Dragon banked sharply. She dove for the ground with immense speed.
Draco was so close to the crowd that he heard their gasps of astonishment. At the last moment he dug his heels in and squeezed his right hand. Alyewn landed easily.
*Not bad, Draco.*
Not bad yourself, Alyewn. He jumped off easily and brushed his hair back.
With a calculated ease and swagger he walked jauntily to the amazed spectators but looked only at Hermione.
"Wanna ride?"
Malfoy Manor, the living room...
Narcissa and Lucius sat by the roaring fire. It had been charmed to glow green instead of red. Narcissa glared into it, a premonitory fear running through her. She knew what was to come. A curse, rather than blessing, to be born a Seer.
Especially when all there is to See is hatred.
The fireplace flickered and a hooded figure appeared in it. Lucius jumped to his feet but Narcissa remained seated.
"My Lord." He said, bowing low.
Dark Lord laughed. "Don't bow to a mere reflection Lucius. Narcissa, how are you?"
"I am steady as always." She replied her voice frosty and edged with insolence.
"Narcissa! I forbid-..."
"Leave her be, Lucius." His masters face was serious. "Your son has finally discovered one of his talents." Narcissa smiled.
It felt queer, she was unused to the pull of her facial muscles. She relaxed them quickly.
"Narcissa, of course, the Great Seer, knows what I am talking about. He is the new Wielder of the Dragonstaff."
Lucius gaped for a second and then spoke hoarsely. "One of his talents, my Lord?"
"Yes, Lucius. Another talent he has not yet tapped is that of his eyes. Quite hypnotic, actually. I require you by my side, Lucius. Now." The Dark Lord's face flickered for a second and was then consumed by the vermillion flames.
Lucius straightened his robes quickly and lifted his wand. Suddenly, he seemed to change his mind. "Narcissa, he said you knew of Draco's talents."
"I am a Seer, Lucius."
"Ah. Well, you needn't wait for me tonight." Narcissa Malfoy nodded as Lucius Disapparated, leaving her alone.
Narcissa sighed and stoked the fire disconsolately. Lately she had had too much time on her hands, Lucius had been away at his meetings with increasing frequency. More time, more reminiscing...more regret. A lifetime of regret.
The fire suddenly flickered again. "Narcissa."
"Voldemort."
"It always amazes me, Narcissa. You always amaze me. I offered you a chance by my side." The Dark Lord shook his head in disbelief.
"You asked after you took, Voldemort. It doesn't work that way. Not with me. I had nothing to lose." Shadows played on Narcissa's face, her eyes gleamed ever more grey.
"You have much to lose now. Your son, your husband..." The voice was cruel, filled with glee.
"The husband you chose, Voldemort. The heir you wished me bear."
"The first one...Narcissa, was the first one mine? Was it my child?" There was a curious note of pleading in Voldemort's voice.
"Do you think so?" Narcissa replied, with harsh amusement.
"God damn you, Narcissa!" Lord Voldemort said, reverting to his Muggle upbringing. "You fucking enjoy this, don't you? Magic Undone, what I can do has no rival in your cruelty! It's pure torture, Narcissa."
"You deserve it."
"One day I will kill you, Narcissa."
"I never doubted it." The face flickered, and with one last snarl, was gone.
The hardness on her face suddenly melted away, and tears began to silently course down her face. Crystalline tears, glittering green in the firelight. Tears weighted not only by sadness, but by hatred, rage, regret and frustration.
Life, she thought bitterly, is the ultimate torture.
Narcissa hadn't started out with a tough life. She had been born to a wealthy PureBlood and a Veela. Charm and grace came as naturally as breathing to her. Impulsiveness and cruelty did also. She hadn't gone to Hogwarts, but had private tuitions by strictly lady teachers. Her Veela charm was too much for the masculine half of the population.
Her father finally allowed her to go to a Dance. Not just any dance, but the Yule Ball at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. There she met two young men unlike any other she had before. One with charcoal black hair, one with the blondest iridescence. One as cold as the other warm.
Sirius Black and Lucius Malfoy.
She had never been attracted to Lucius. He was merely a year older than her, whereas Sirius was at least five. He was a teacher's aide. She could still remember her first dance with him. His softest touch, his breath on her cheek and his voice whispering in her ear.
It had been easy. He was completely in love with her.
And I? I was completely in love with him too. Narcissa squeezed her eyes shut.
But then she met a completely different man. A wizard as yet emerging into power. The Dark Lord Voldemort. She had feared him more terribly than the rest for she could see his strength. She could see the hatred within him.
She could remember the fateful day as if it were still happening to her. The air was unnaturally crisp and tense. Sirius had proposed to her. The cold metal of the engagement ring still chilled her. That night the Dark Lord came for her.
It wasn't any use screaming or struggling. He told her that she was perfect, that he needed a consort of beauty and with power. She had both, but she refused. He had taken her anyway, forcibly.
Tears jerked into Narcissa's eyes.
Two weeks later she found had become pregnant. Voldemort had demanded to know whether the child was his. She had not breathed a word to him. She loved Sirius too much to let him be involved. He never knew if the child was his either.
The Dark Lord chose her a suitable husband for propriety's sake. One close to him, where the child could be observed. The Dark Lord thought that he could recognise whose child it was once the birth had taken place. Especially by the eyes. He was wrong.
The babe was born with licks of black hair. She opened her eyes. They were slate grey.
And Narcissa had smiled.
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Meanwhile, at Lord Voldemort's headquarters...
Lucius Apparated to the predetermined area instantly, to find it deserted. He could hear the Dark Lord inside but had better sense than to go find him.
Lucius eyes widened in surprise. That was his master...yelling. The Dark Lord never, ever lost his temper. That was his greatest asset, the cold, calculating veneer that hid his rage and made it all the more menacing.
The door creaked open and slammed behind Lord Voldemort. His hair was dishevelled and his skin clammy, he looked almost human.
"Lucius." He said, his voice squeaking slightly. He brushed back his hair and cleared his throat. "Lucius..." He said, in his usual hiss.
"I came as soon as I could, my Lord."
"Of course you did. Now, the MudBlood was also with your Draco. They were dancing. The perfect oppertunity came when they decided to go for a walk. My emissary ambushed them but that cursed Potter and Dumbledore were there as well...and then on course we have the matter of the staff." Voldemort touched his chin thoughtfully.
"The boy has already recieved his steed. The Queen Dragon Alyewn. He is much too powerful to frighten now...but his girlfriend...she is another matter."
"Lord, if I'm not too forward, how did you recieve this information so quickly?" Lucius looked down.
Voldemort laughed. "My spy and follower, I think you know her Lucius, Countess Parthenope Czyren." Lucius gasped.
"Draco's old girlfriend?!"
"Ah, yes, unfortunately, she still has feelings for him. She and I have come to an agreement of sorts...Granger goes out of the picture and she's on my side."
"But my Lord, surely such a child has little power?"
His Master smiled. "Oh no, she has great power, Lucius. Her voice is as 'special' as your son's gaze is. She has a special connection with the dead."
"But that is unimportant, let us deliver a message to the MudBlood, Lucius. A very personal message."
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The Slytherin Common Room...
Draco walked into the Slytherin Common Room holding his staff. Hagrid had, in a happy daze, showed him where to keep Alyewn. The room was silent.
"That was so cool!" One first year piped up and suddenly people started clapping him on the back and congratulating him.
"Wow, Draco, I didn't know you rode..." Drusyll Zeltriste said. She had talked to Draco before, but very snobbishly. "You're great..."
Draco smiled knowingly at her. She was very beautiful, long black hair and pixie like features. "Well, there are a lot of things about me that people don't know..." He said, mysteriously.
"Oh, like the fact that you prefer Scarface, Weasel and the MudBlood over proper Slytherin PureBloods?" Pansy Parkinson snapped. She, Crabbe and Goyle stood in a group.
"Lay off, Pansy. Blood doesn't mean a damn thing and you know it." Darrel Raine, a quiet seventh year that Draco hadn't paid much attention to spoke up. "You're a PureBlood, but half the Muggle Borns in this school get better grades than you."
Pansy's face twisted into a snarl. Draco suddenly laughed.
"You know Pansy, you really look ugly when you're angry." He turned on his heel and walked into his dorm. He heard footsteps on the cold flagstone behind him and stopped.
"You alright, Draco?"
"Raine- Darrel, thanks." Draco said, awkwardly.
"Anytime. Slytherins have to stick together, regardless of Blood."
"Yeah." People, Darrel, people, have to stick together. Draco thought dully. "I've got a splitting headache, I'm going to go lie down, okay?"
"Sure Draco, see you around." Darrel left the room and Draco sat heavily on his bed.
The moment his head touched the soft pillow, he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Draco tried to open the barred door, but it was sealed shut. He banged on it hard, but it still wouldn't open. He sighed in frustration and stopped. With a low groan, the door swung open, plunging him into the familiar darkness.
"Mia?" He called. He saw the glints of her eyes and she was there. Slowly, the darkness ebbed away, leaving a gentle rosy light. She turned and smiled.
"Draco."
"You can talk!" He exclaimed, surprised.
"I can now. What do you want here? I've given you all the guidance allowed." She stopped and looked down.
"Are you real?"
"Yes, Draco, I'm very real. I'm from the future, well, one of your futures." Her fingers shook slightly. "The future we chose."
"Where am I? Aren't I with you?" Hermione touched his cheek gently.
"I can't tell you any more. It's not allowed. Sylvoren was kind just allowing this much. You can't call on me any more. It's your life now. You can choose this future or another."
A thought struck him and he swallowed. "Am I-...am I dead?"
Hermione tried to hold back tears. "I'm sorry." She whispered.
"But that means I'm going to die soon...I mean, you're so young..." She smiled bitterly.
"Don't believe all what you see."
"We did love each other didn't we?"
"We still do."
Draco stared at Hermione's hand in consternation. "I gave you that, didn't I?"
Hermione touched the cold jewel. "Yes. You did."
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Meanwhile in the Gryffindor Common Room...
Professor McGonagall climbed through the portrait hole hurriedly, brushing the tears from her eyes. She didn't know how to break the news. Her fingers shook slightly and a muscle went in her temple.
The Gryffindors were creating a racket around the fire as usual. Nobody paid the least attention to her. She looked around and spotted her target talking animatedly to her friends.
She went up to them and cleared her throat. The chatter stopped abruptly. "Hermione, I'm afraid I have some...bad news."
Hermione looked up, her face white. "Tell me quickly." She whispered.
"We just recieved word your parents were attacked by You-Know-Who. Your house is completely destroyed."
"My parents? Are they all right?" Hermione had stood up, her voice was edged with panic.
Professor McGonagall looked about to cry. "I'm sorry, Hermione, they're dead."
Hermione gasped once and sat down, paler than a ghost. She didn't open her mouth but sat in shock. "Oh God...why..." She mumbled.
"This was found nearby, it's a note that can only be opened by you." Hermione grasped the envelope with shaking fingers and tore it open.
Purity stands alone. Silver and gold do not flow together. Beware the consequences of your actions, for they reach further than you know.
"Voldemort." Harry said, through clenched teeth.
"It's all my fault...if I had just..." Hermione started to cry. Ron held her elbow.
"Come on Hermione, I'll take you to the dormitory."
They sat down on Hermione's bed. "It's all right, Herm, it's not your fault." Ron said. It's Draco Malfoy's.
Hermione put her head onto his shoulder and sobbed quietly.
"It'll be all right." Ron said, holding her tightly.
Hermione shifted in his arms. He felt comfortable, easy...she could let down her guard. He was an old friend.
Ron licked his lips quickly. Hermione lifted her head. He brushed the tears from her face. She was mere inches away from him. "Hermione..." He whispered, drawing closer.
She turned. "Please Ron. Not now."
"I'm sorry."
That doesn't mean not ever, does it? He thought, hopefully.
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Three days later, in the faraway land of India...
The sun bounced off the gleaming marble walls of the structure. The rays deflected, basking the ash-rose building in a corona-like aura. An assortment of people of all ages chattered sombrely in the sultry afternoon. The architecture was flavoured with urban ethnicity.
Brass lettering on the frontal archway proclaimed the school as 'Vidya Institute for the Gifted', a smaller sign below said 'Bangalore District, India'.
A short, stern woman clapped her hands, standing at the top of the stairs. The people in the playground stopped talking. Silence reigned. It was not surprising, as there were only twenty or so standing in the gardens.
"Listen, everyone!" Her accent was slightly Scottish with an undercurrent of southern indian. "You are all here because you have heard of us. We do not solicit or advertise. We are open to all who wish to enter. Welcome to Vidya Institute for the Gifted. By Gifted I do not mean mere witches and wizards. You are more. Every one of you here has a magical capability." She fixed them with a glance. "You mayn't be able to do everyday magic, as your fellows, but you have a special- talent. And in this time of need you are especially valuable." She smiled, displaying a row of even white teeth.
"A new batch of students, you, have just arrived. You may have noticed that we do not house many. You may have also noticed the discrepancies in age. This is not a school. It is, however, a place of learning. You will learn to develop your potential and expand as a character. My name, by the way, is Vidya Patil. Vidya will do just fine." She motioned into the darkness behind her and an young man stepped out of the door.
"My name is Cyrus, and I'm here to get you acquainted with the 'teachers' and split you up. According to your talent, move where I tell you. Vidya is our headmistress here. I teach all Spirimagi. True Seers, Scryers, Spirit Walkers..." He stopped and inclined his head toward a man with short dyed red hair. "That is Javed- Jay, he teaches the Elemagi, people who control wind, water, fire and earth. Vidya's with the Mensamagi, telepaths, mind scryers, thought amplifiers- things like that. Now Kaveri over there's great with the innovators and talented, you know, the budding Nicolas Flamels, the duellers, etc. etc...okay?" Cyrus stopped speaking as the few students moved toward their respective teachers.
The dusty ground was empty except for one glaring figure. All that could be seen of her was long black hair, wavy, with a streak of blue-purple in it and deep-gazing, large black eyes like twin abyss. She was covered completely. A thin midnight-blue inner tunic came up to her chin and halfway down her thigh. A tight black bodysuit could be seen inside.
Heavy leather boots came almost past her knees. Chainmail clinked against the large sword she had suspended from a leather belt around her hips. Short leather gloves covered her long fingers. Even her face was covered by a supple transparent mask. It's outline could be faintly seen along her hairline.
The assemblage looked at her in mild shock and distaste. A freak among freaks. She didn't seem to care.
"Ah." Cyrus cleared his throat. "And why have you not gone to your teacher?"
She replied in an even voice, which sounded much older than the twenty something she looked.. "There are none here which foster my talent."
"Ah, and what is that-, wait, what is your name?" A muscle twitched in her cheek.
"Chaos."
A few started to titter. Cyrus had an expression of mild indulgence on his face. He smiled benevolently.
"Okay then, Miss-, ahem, Chaos, what is your talent?" Open laughter sounded out, but Chaos only looked smug.
"I-," She stopped, "I am a Healer." The laughter stopped abruptly and was replaced by an awed silence.
No Healer had walked the earth for six hundred years.
But then, Chaos had always been unusual.
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Dumbledore's office...
"I see, Celeste, you're quite sure of your breakthrough?" Dumbledore inclined his head.
"Yes, now all I need is the last ingredient. The blood." Celeste fingered the empty crystal vial in her pocket.
"It's also the hardest ingredient to find. They must also be willing to give you a dram." Celeste laughed.
"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. Let's find one first. I need some help with that."
"You'll need a miracle, Celeste. The best we have are Hermione Granger, Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley and your half-brother, Draco Malfoy..." Dumbledore grimaced.
"But...?"
"They haven't graduated yet and besides that, Hermione's parents were murdered by Voldemort. A warning to keep away from Draco." The blue fire glinted in his eyes as Celeste flinched. "He's changed hasn't he? Draco, I mean."
"For the good. I've never even talked to Draco civilly before now. We've been getting to know each other. He's really upset, that Hermione girl refuses to speak with him. Guilt, I suppose." Celeste sighed. "It's exactly what You-Know-Who wants."
"He's devious. Time will heal it, she's leaving for the funeral in an hour or so." Celeste smiled wanly. "Now wait a minute!" Dumbledore suddenly swiveled around and picked up an issue of the Daily Prophet. He jabbed at an article. "Here we go, a new school for the Magically Gifted. We might find this person there. If the prophecy is correct."
"Sylvoren is a true Seer unlike Sybill. Will they let us visit?"
"I don't think so...they're usually very protective. But we might, it's run by Parvati and Padma Patil's mother...if you take one of them along it might work."
"Might?"
"Might." He confirmed. "Add to that you don't have the time. The Meet of Mages to decide the details of the war converges very soon."
"Ah, Albus, sometimes you forget we live in modern times!" Celeste smiled and placed her glittering hourglass pendant on the table.
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