Of Dreams and Dark Wizards - Inductions
Gilthoniel
The rain beat down in merciless rhythm, forming a harsh melody with the whistling wind. The night sky was endlessly black and seemed to have suffocated even the stars. It was the sort of night that sent the resident Hogwarts ghosts into a frenzy of excitement.
Hermione slowly un- tucked her foot from her leg clenching it to get rid of the hot prickles. She thumped down her copy of 'Potions - everything you wanted to know and more' and ran her hands exasperatingly through her thick brown hair.
" Snape's going to kill me," she muttered darkly.
Severus Snape - the not so lenient potions master had set what he smilingly called 'an especially hard homework task': to find the little known mistlewood and its' medicinal qualities. Hermione had riffled through every potions book she could think of and now at 12:00 pm had to admit she was stumped.
" Mione!" A familiar voice assailed her " Are you still here?" Hermione looked up and smiled as she saw a familiar pair of dark brown eyes gazing at her from around the bookshelf.
" Yeah," she sighed, " I can't seem to give up on this mistlewood," she said gloomily staring at the dusty book.
" Typical" Dean Thomas walked over to Hermione, resting his chin on her hair. Dean had finally asked Hermione out in the middle of their sixth year after silently adoring her for six months, and Hermione who had been drawn to his irresistible charm and kind nature had willingly accepted. As far as she was concerned Dean was one of the best things that had ever happened to her.
The two silently contemplated the hard covered book. " Have you tried 'Potions through the ages'" asked Dean, who knew his books almost as well as Hermione.
" Yeah" she replied grimly " not so much as a mention".
" What about this one" Dean glanced through the books on the shelf and deftly removed a thin brightly coloured hard cover entitled P.O.T.I.O.N.S - a beginners guide.
"Dean" She looked at him with laughing eyes "that's a book for first years".
Dean shrugged " worth a try" he began flicking through the book slowly. Suddenly he let out a low whistle
" Here we go, Mistlewood 'the leaves of the dark red mistlewood plant are crushed and added to essence of wilderberry to cure the common cold'". Dean let out a snort of laughter. " Snape's had you up all night searching for the cure for the common cold?!"
Hermione groaned. "I'm going to bed," she said getting up " maybe I'll see the funny side of this in the morning".
***
Draco sat with his head slightly bent over the parchment, light wisps of hair brushing against the surface. His expensive Parkers quill was deftly scratching across the paper. To a casual observer, or more importantly Professor Binns- Draco looked the attentive model student respectfully taking notes on Wizard Henry the VI s triumphant march into the small town of Cocklesville.
But Draco was a Malfoy and he had inherited the art of deception. Along with the other pleasant qualities, lying, cheating and stealing to name a few. In reality Draco Malfoy was busily trying to make sense of a rather puzzling event that had recently taken place in his life; that morning he had received an owl from his father.
The only other time Draco could ever remember receiving a note from Lucius was when Draco was in his 4th year at Hogwarts. He still recalled flying breathtakingly high over the Quidditch pitch during one of the many Slytherin-Gryffindor matches, when something had gone drastically wrong with his Glider 3000.
Instead of making the lazy right turn he had intended, it started a terrifying descent. Draco tried his upmost to right it but it was determined to self-destruct, taking him with it. Draco ended up crashing ungracefully and landing in a twisted heap of broken bones on the ground.
The next day while he was in Madam Pomfreys' ward, Draco had received an owl from his father that went something along the lines of ' thou hast disgraced the family name of Malfoy.'
Draco grimaced at the memory. Surprisingly, however he would've preferred that rather unpleasant note to the one that he had recently received that had been, well.nice. Draco uneasily reread it in his head.
Draco, I was pleased to receive news of the recent Gryffindor Quidditch defeat. Especially the part that you played in it. I want you to return home one week before the Christmas break. There is something important that I need to discuss with you. Mother sends her love Lucius
Draco gave a barely audible sigh and made a concerted effort to put the whole matter out of his head. After all, if he returned home at the time that Lucius had specified he would see what it was that would be 'discussed' with him in exactly one week. ** * The dining table was buzzing with the comforting drone of young wizards and witches engaging in conversation. Snatches of school gossip could be heard intermingling with discussions of homework tasks (for the more serious) and Quidditch (for the more light-hearted). In the Gryffindor set Ron and Hermione were having one of their famous arguments.
" I refuse to believe it Ron", Hermione gave her friend a scathing look. "You had something to do with it and I mean to find out what it was.poor Neville" she sighed her tone changing. Ron put on a somber face.
"Look Hermione", he painstakingly replied " I've already explained it to you.I turned my back on Neville and his cauldron for one moment and the next thing I knew he'd sprouted horns and green polka dots". At this Ron could hold in his laughter no longer and it tore out in an infectious Weasley chuckle.
" At least it brightened up the potions class a bit!" Harry snorted ducking to escape the almost visible waves of wrath radiating from Hermione. The three had remained firm friends for 5 years sharing laughter, tears, insults and fears. And even now formed a closely guarded circle that it was almost impossible to break into. Though Dean and Ginny were considered part of the group they often found themselves 'on the outside looking in'.
Dean draped an arm casually around Hermione's shoulder. " You ready to go?" he whispered in her ear. Hermione got up with him waving goodbye to her friends. The two usually liked to go for a leisurely walk around the grounds; Hermione called it her 'sanity finding time'.
Harry stretched and glanced over at Ginny who was involved in an animated conversation with Rendell Jennings, a new witch that had recently joined her year.
" Well," Harry muttered, more to himself than anyone " I'm going."
Ron watched him walk out of the great hall with measured steps. Contrary to popular opinion, Ronald Weasley was actually a very perceptive person and he had gradually noticed a change in his friend.
Harry was aging, it hadn't happened all at once but more and more Ron had noticed a tired look on his face. It had been two years since Harry's last encounter with Voldermort and Ron knew that the waiting and worrying was starting to wear thin.
Happily however, Ron had also noticed another change in Harry. Stolen glances and animated features all aimed at his vibrant sister had planted a suspicion in Ron's mind. A suspicion that he would gladly like to be proven correct.
Later that night a waif like figure wrapped in a blood-red cloak could be seen stepping lightly through the eerie halls. While in certain moods Ginny found pleasure in traipsing through the dusky corridors with only her faintly glowing wand to guide her.
She ran her hand lightly over the stone walls musing on, surprisingly. love. She thought almost enviously of Hermione and how she seemed to have found her match with Dean. Sure they fought occasionally but they always understood each other so well.
Her train of thought led her to reflections about her old crush on Harry and the way she felt about him now. Unwilling to probe too deeply and fan the embers of a dying flame Ginny abruptly looked up, searching for a diversion. Fortunately she found one - unfortunately it was in the shape of Mrs Tibbs prowling the corridors.
Ginny looked frantically around, searching for a hiding place from the feline's piercing eyes. She never particularly enjoyed a late night encounter with the malevolent cat and 30 points taken from Gryffindor.
Quickly Ginny ducked into an alcove, extinguishing her wand and crouching against the wall. Mrs Tibbs paused suspiciously sniffing in Ginny's general direction, just then Ginny heard a faint rustling and watched in horror as Knight Harold II strode into a painting so close to Ginny that she could reach out and touch it.
The rustling alerted the cats' sensitive hearing and she was striding purposely toward Ginny when she seemed to change her mind and instead streaked off down the hallway.
Ginny sighed with relief, and was just wondering about the cats' sudden change of mind when she heard plodding footsteps echoing down the corridor. She stiffened her ears straining to recognize the voices accompanying the footsteps.
"They know of it's presence," she heard Snape's oily voice hiss " it is no longer lost to them".
" It has never been lost to him," Albus Dumbledore's tired voice argued. " He has his reasons for searching for it now.the wheels have started turning once again, a long time ago I was able to stop their clockwork movement. But now." Dumbledore's voice failed.
" But now," he hoarsely whispered " I'm afraid I am powerless".
The rain beat down in merciless rhythm, forming a harsh melody with the whistling wind. The night sky was endlessly black and seemed to have suffocated even the stars. It was the sort of night that sent the resident Hogwarts ghosts into a frenzy of excitement.
Hermione slowly un- tucked her foot from her leg clenching it to get rid of the hot prickles. She thumped down her copy of 'Potions - everything you wanted to know and more' and ran her hands exasperatingly through her thick brown hair.
" Snape's going to kill me," she muttered darkly.
Severus Snape - the not so lenient potions master had set what he smilingly called 'an especially hard homework task': to find the little known mistlewood and its' medicinal qualities. Hermione had riffled through every potions book she could think of and now at 12:00 pm had to admit she was stumped.
" Mione!" A familiar voice assailed her " Are you still here?" Hermione looked up and smiled as she saw a familiar pair of dark brown eyes gazing at her from around the bookshelf.
" Yeah," she sighed, " I can't seem to give up on this mistlewood," she said gloomily staring at the dusty book.
" Typical" Dean Thomas walked over to Hermione, resting his chin on her hair. Dean had finally asked Hermione out in the middle of their sixth year after silently adoring her for six months, and Hermione who had been drawn to his irresistible charm and kind nature had willingly accepted. As far as she was concerned Dean was one of the best things that had ever happened to her.
The two silently contemplated the hard covered book. " Have you tried 'Potions through the ages'" asked Dean, who knew his books almost as well as Hermione.
" Yeah" she replied grimly " not so much as a mention".
" What about this one" Dean glanced through the books on the shelf and deftly removed a thin brightly coloured hard cover entitled P.O.T.I.O.N.S - a beginners guide.
"Dean" She looked at him with laughing eyes "that's a book for first years".
Dean shrugged " worth a try" he began flicking through the book slowly. Suddenly he let out a low whistle
" Here we go, Mistlewood 'the leaves of the dark red mistlewood plant are crushed and added to essence of wilderberry to cure the common cold'". Dean let out a snort of laughter. " Snape's had you up all night searching for the cure for the common cold?!"
Hermione groaned. "I'm going to bed," she said getting up " maybe I'll see the funny side of this in the morning".
***
Draco sat with his head slightly bent over the parchment, light wisps of hair brushing against the surface. His expensive Parkers quill was deftly scratching across the paper. To a casual observer, or more importantly Professor Binns- Draco looked the attentive model student respectfully taking notes on Wizard Henry the VI s triumphant march into the small town of Cocklesville.
But Draco was a Malfoy and he had inherited the art of deception. Along with the other pleasant qualities, lying, cheating and stealing to name a few. In reality Draco Malfoy was busily trying to make sense of a rather puzzling event that had recently taken place in his life; that morning he had received an owl from his father.
The only other time Draco could ever remember receiving a note from Lucius was when Draco was in his 4th year at Hogwarts. He still recalled flying breathtakingly high over the Quidditch pitch during one of the many Slytherin-Gryffindor matches, when something had gone drastically wrong with his Glider 3000.
Instead of making the lazy right turn he had intended, it started a terrifying descent. Draco tried his upmost to right it but it was determined to self-destruct, taking him with it. Draco ended up crashing ungracefully and landing in a twisted heap of broken bones on the ground.
The next day while he was in Madam Pomfreys' ward, Draco had received an owl from his father that went something along the lines of ' thou hast disgraced the family name of Malfoy.'
Draco grimaced at the memory. Surprisingly, however he would've preferred that rather unpleasant note to the one that he had recently received that had been, well.nice. Draco uneasily reread it in his head.
Draco, I was pleased to receive news of the recent Gryffindor Quidditch defeat. Especially the part that you played in it. I want you to return home one week before the Christmas break. There is something important that I need to discuss with you. Mother sends her love Lucius
Draco gave a barely audible sigh and made a concerted effort to put the whole matter out of his head. After all, if he returned home at the time that Lucius had specified he would see what it was that would be 'discussed' with him in exactly one week. ** * The dining table was buzzing with the comforting drone of young wizards and witches engaging in conversation. Snatches of school gossip could be heard intermingling with discussions of homework tasks (for the more serious) and Quidditch (for the more light-hearted). In the Gryffindor set Ron and Hermione were having one of their famous arguments.
" I refuse to believe it Ron", Hermione gave her friend a scathing look. "You had something to do with it and I mean to find out what it was.poor Neville" she sighed her tone changing. Ron put on a somber face.
"Look Hermione", he painstakingly replied " I've already explained it to you.I turned my back on Neville and his cauldron for one moment and the next thing I knew he'd sprouted horns and green polka dots". At this Ron could hold in his laughter no longer and it tore out in an infectious Weasley chuckle.
" At least it brightened up the potions class a bit!" Harry snorted ducking to escape the almost visible waves of wrath radiating from Hermione. The three had remained firm friends for 5 years sharing laughter, tears, insults and fears. And even now formed a closely guarded circle that it was almost impossible to break into. Though Dean and Ginny were considered part of the group they often found themselves 'on the outside looking in'.
Dean draped an arm casually around Hermione's shoulder. " You ready to go?" he whispered in her ear. Hermione got up with him waving goodbye to her friends. The two usually liked to go for a leisurely walk around the grounds; Hermione called it her 'sanity finding time'.
Harry stretched and glanced over at Ginny who was involved in an animated conversation with Rendell Jennings, a new witch that had recently joined her year.
" Well," Harry muttered, more to himself than anyone " I'm going."
Ron watched him walk out of the great hall with measured steps. Contrary to popular opinion, Ronald Weasley was actually a very perceptive person and he had gradually noticed a change in his friend.
Harry was aging, it hadn't happened all at once but more and more Ron had noticed a tired look on his face. It had been two years since Harry's last encounter with Voldermort and Ron knew that the waiting and worrying was starting to wear thin.
Happily however, Ron had also noticed another change in Harry. Stolen glances and animated features all aimed at his vibrant sister had planted a suspicion in Ron's mind. A suspicion that he would gladly like to be proven correct.
Later that night a waif like figure wrapped in a blood-red cloak could be seen stepping lightly through the eerie halls. While in certain moods Ginny found pleasure in traipsing through the dusky corridors with only her faintly glowing wand to guide her.
She ran her hand lightly over the stone walls musing on, surprisingly. love. She thought almost enviously of Hermione and how she seemed to have found her match with Dean. Sure they fought occasionally but they always understood each other so well.
Her train of thought led her to reflections about her old crush on Harry and the way she felt about him now. Unwilling to probe too deeply and fan the embers of a dying flame Ginny abruptly looked up, searching for a diversion. Fortunately she found one - unfortunately it was in the shape of Mrs Tibbs prowling the corridors.
Ginny looked frantically around, searching for a hiding place from the feline's piercing eyes. She never particularly enjoyed a late night encounter with the malevolent cat and 30 points taken from Gryffindor.
Quickly Ginny ducked into an alcove, extinguishing her wand and crouching against the wall. Mrs Tibbs paused suspiciously sniffing in Ginny's general direction, just then Ginny heard a faint rustling and watched in horror as Knight Harold II strode into a painting so close to Ginny that she could reach out and touch it.
The rustling alerted the cats' sensitive hearing and she was striding purposely toward Ginny when she seemed to change her mind and instead streaked off down the hallway.
Ginny sighed with relief, and was just wondering about the cats' sudden change of mind when she heard plodding footsteps echoing down the corridor. She stiffened her ears straining to recognize the voices accompanying the footsteps.
"They know of it's presence," she heard Snape's oily voice hiss " it is no longer lost to them".
" It has never been lost to him," Albus Dumbledore's tired voice argued. " He has his reasons for searching for it now.the wheels have started turning once again, a long time ago I was able to stop their clockwork movement. But now." Dumbledore's voice failed.
" But now," he hoarsely whispered " I'm afraid I am powerless".