YAY!! It's an actually LONG chapter. Well as long as I get. Another round of applause for Melly, my patient beta reader and I've got something new to add to the intro. Disclaimer! I er, ::coughcough:: kinda forgot, well I don't own anything. Hope there's anyone out there who might enjoy this story. ::cricket chirps:: Ah well, any ideas for a catchy summary would be great. Please review!
The endless black fabric of the cloak whipped the over priced, heated granite floor with fury in its wake. Ferocious grumbling, which sounded more and more like growls, echoed alongside harsh curses in the entrance chamber of the Malfoy mansion. Like an atheist angel who is about to name her doubts on religion to God, Narcissa, white golden hair flowing around her like a cloud, approached her husband. Upon hearing his mantra her lips curled in distaste.
"Welcome back." He turned his electric blue eyes on her and snarled.
"My absence has had you in quite the fret hasn't it now? So tell me, to whom should I expect thanks for lending out my wife?" She shrugged in jest.
"You should be thankful to me. I wasn't able to gain any pocket money in my ways of persuasion for your freedom, and you know how I hate to inconvenience myself." The mocking tone of her voice was accompanied by a perfect poker face. Lucius's demure turned from heated fury at his wife and the time he spent in Azkaban to a controlled look of iciness. He backhanded her hard enough to make her tumble to the ground. Kneeling down before she could rise he grabbed her by her windpipe, applying just enough pressure to make it difficult to breath.
"Remember my beauty, the only use you have to me is as a child bearer and an ornament. The next time you humiliate me you will be found raped and dead in an unnamed alley." He rose, letting go of her throat, and with a lighter step, sauntered off to presumably meet with Voldemort. Draco watched from his spot on the grand staircase. At the site of his mother standing on shaky legs as she stormed out of the mansion he felt the bile rise in his throat. 'There's nothing you can do,' he reminded himself. His mother's masochist tendencies were beyond him, and past experience proved that there was no help to be had with either party. Draco was about to make his way downstairs but an elf had suddenly appeared in front of him.
"Gah!" Draco yelped in surprise. The elf's ears flattened to her head, which was now bowed almost to the floor.
"Trixy is so sorry that she has surprised sir! Trixy is bad, bad elf!! Trixy…"
"Trixy, did you have a message for me?" Draco asked growing impatient. The meek elf nodded in reply. "What is it?"
"Master Cristo has been waiting for you to join him for the fencing lessons."
Draco nodded at this and set off toward the fencing hall leaving Trixy to beat her head on the staircase.
The fencing hall upon entrance was intimidating for the sheer size of it. The steeple ceiling started about 25 feet from the floor, and the entire room was about 50 ft long. Along the side of right hand wall was a line of tall thin windows that faced the forest, and between the windows were benches. To the left the wall was covered with enormous tapestries depicting great wars and scenes of bloodshed. The wall also held a collection of different swords and armor.
Draco strode in carrying his mask in his gloved hand, already wearing his jacket and knickers. The man who approached him looked around 60 years old with the mind of 27. His thick white hair was shaved in an army cut, and the fencing jacket hung comfortably over his tall lean frame.
"Master Draco, it's been to long," He said with a comical smile and nod of respect.
"Likewise master Cristo," Draco replied with his own ironic grin. They then went to the benches to stretch. After a few minutes, Cristo looked to the wall at the different weapons and said to Draco, "What would you like to begin with today? Foil for a warm up?"
Draco walked up to the wall and took a simple looking Italian epee. "I've been practicing at school. I think we should start with something subtle."
The fencing master cocked his head to the side in thought. The boy had always had trouble with the patience it took to master the epee. Whenever Draco had tried to learn the weapon he always ended up getting ahead of himself and throwing a rapid volley of attacks, ending up skewered. He was an expert with the saber though.
"All right Draco," he replied and acquired his own epee from the bag he had brought. The two fencers went to the line and saluted before falling into ready stance. After a few seconds Cristo warily started an attack, which was deftly parried by Draco. After the third attack Draco attempted a repost, and the duel was on. The parries and attacks became a blur of movement pushing the fencers continually back and forth. Cristo was again surprised by the swiftness of Draco's parries. Before, Draco had usually ignored an attack and gone straight to repost, trying to push back the blade with brute strength as in saber.
"Point," said Cristo as he felt the tip of the blade lightly jab his knee. Draco immediately retrieved his blade, took a few steps back and was in a defensive position. Cristo did the same, but before they could start again heavy footfalls signified the oncoming presence.
" Ah, there you are Draco."
Cristo's impression of Lucius had been irreparably damaged with first impressions. For a test on his abilities, Lucius had challenged Cristo to a duel with bare blades and sans protection. Upon completion of this, both men breathing heavily and bleeding, Lucius threw his blade to the side and said, "You will do," before storming out of the fencing hall. The cold, unforgiving mannerisms of this man wafted from him like a sewer leakage.
Draco removed his mask but did not lower his blade. "Father, back so soon?"
Lucius smiled cockily at his son. "You didn't think that those moronic, imbeciles of the ministry would be able to keep me back did you." Draco said nothing; there was nothing to be said to that. Lucius scoffed at his own comment and approached Draco with a sharpened saber at his side. "Your attacks are weak and miniscule. You show too much pity. Cristo, you are excused."
Cristo glared heatedly, but bowed and gathered his belongings. When he was out of the room, Lucius turned to Draco. "Take off that useless garb and grab a sword," he ordered. Draco, without a word, did as he was told. Before he could get into a ready position his father made a quick crossover advance lunge, leaving Draco off balance and his blade insecurely off to the side in effort to parry the attack. Draco ground his teeth in annoyance as he made a rapid crossover back retreat.
"Remember Draco, you must always be on guard for any kind of attack," Lucius said, trying to throw in another attack to push Draco back further, but Draco only stood his ground. Lucius suddenly ceased his attacks and slowly retreated back, making sure that he did not go beyond where he had started. Draco, with blade help up in a defensive position, liquidly followed. Once he was at lunging distance he leisurely leaned back as if to pounce. With two jerks of the tip of his blade he made a beckoning motion to Lucius. With out preamble Lucius whipped his blade forward as if to gut Draco and at the last second, twisted it around Draco's parry and above his head to chop down on his skull. Draco stumbled back and nearly fell but efficiently deflected the blade. Before he could regain his balance Lucius lashed his saber around, brutally beating Draco's own blade back into his throat.
"Clumsy," Lucius admonished. "Luck was the only thing that saved you with those weak parries. How many times must I tell you, always repost after a parry while your opponent is still gathering his wits!" Lucius then turned on his heel and walked out of the fencing hall with his voice trailing him. "Be in the ball room by six. Wear your dress robes."
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It was around five thirty the day after Hermione came home when she received her first owl of the summer. The warm sunlight gaily lit her cream colored room as she read The Best of P. G. Wodehouse with Crookshanks happily purring at the crook of her legs. Her mother had given her the book upon her return saying that it was a favorite when she was young. The simplistic comedy helped Hermione keep her mind off more depressing matters. She was just starting to read about the Mulliners when an urgent sort of tapping interrupted her. Curious, she put down her book and looked up to see Hedwig trying to precariously balance on her small window ledge while tapping the window with her beak.
Confusion writ itself on her face as she rose to open the window. Hedwig flew in gracefully and landing on Hermione's desk chair, making Crookshanks hiss and growl at the intruder. Hermione immediately unraveled the message and sat back on her bed to read it.
I need you to look up a power transfusion spell. I think it was written in Latin or Italian, but I'm not sure. It's got something to do green guy and I think it might be big. Answer soon.
Harry
"Power transfusion?" Hermione said quietly to herself. Her mind set on a task and the Mulliners forgotten she started scanning through her bookshelves and randomly picking out anything that might have some relation. Just as she was going to sit down with her highlighter and notebook to look through the stack of books that towered over her desk, her mother's voice rang up the to her room.
"Mione! Your father and I are going into town. Would you like to come?" She was about to yell back no when an idea came to her. Grabbing her jacket she opened her door and looked down stairs at her mother who was awaiting an answer.
"Would it be alright if I dropped by at the library down Diagon alley?" Hermione asked hopefully.
"You would have to see with your father, but I think it would be alright," the smiling woman answered. Ten minutes latter found Hermione happily walking down the brightly lit and merrily busy Diagon alley, with ice cream in one hand and a large cloth bag adorned with "Alexander's Annals" in the other. She slowly nibbled the chocolate, peanut butter and banana cone as she turned into an offshoot alley that led to the library. In fact the alley mostly consisted of the library, which was large enough to make a muggle block. The alley itself was more like an elaborate plaza, with benches and gardens in the midst of the mosaic tiles.
At first sight, the structure was magnificently intimidating in size. The pristine white marble reflected the sun, making the building glow. Many long shallow steps led to the grandeur of the entrance of the enormous carved door, which could only be closed or opened by magic. The thirty-foot columns supporting the roof were carved around the edges with gods and goddess walking around the rim.
Hermione passed a few people loitering and chatting on the steps or in the gardens as she made her way to the entrance. Once she was inside, she happily breathed in the scent of old pages fluttering on nearby tables. Inside were endless rows of bookshelves lining the walls to the ceiling and creating isles, with random desks placed about. Silvery, elegant bats fluttered about grabbing high books for people, while light fairies sat on the shoulders of readers providing extra light. Hermione walked down the center isle leading toward the main desk. The man who sat at the desk looked out of place in the Romantic themes of the library. He was leaning back on a swivel chair with his feet resting on the desk. The book American Gods was held in one hand and in the other was a coffee mug with "I was a DADA teacher and I survived" printed on. Dark gray eyes scanned the pages beneath reading glasses, and highlights of what must have been light auburn streaked through the full head of gray hair.
"Hello Mr. Lipski. Book any good?" Hermione asked.
"Hermione," he said with a smile, like that of a grandfather seeing his favorite grandchild. He placed his book on the desk to give her his undivided attention. "The book is…interesting. How has Hogwarts been? Start your own classes yet?"
Hermione laughed politely at this. "It was, as you would say, an interesting year. Haven't started any classes quite yet. I need some help finding a book."
"Ah, straight to business I see. What do you need?"
"Have you heard of any power transfusion spells?"
His brow creased in concentration at this. With a hmmm he waved over one of the bats and whispered something to it. The bat flew off, and Lipski turned to answer Hermione. "I've heard that the idea has been meddled with, but if your talking about what I'm thinking then as far as I know it hasn't even been tried. Detaching someone's or something's soul for its magical ability has been found far too complicated. I could only think of a few books where the subject matter is even mentioned."
"Oh," Hermione said despondently.
"You can look around, but I think Lurk is getting the only books that I have on it."
"Ok, thank you Mr. Lipski," she said, turning around to find an empty corner.
"Good luck."
Hermione had found her corner in the upstairs balcony, and after a few hours had only come up with one thing. The spell was just too complicated to perform. Too much was involved for both bodies. Hermione sighed and looked through her notebook, which now had a bibliography and excerpts from each book. On the next page was the condensed information. She would just have to ask Harry to be more specific. It was understandable why Voldemort would want this spell. In all the books it stated that if a wizard were to attain the knowledge of power transference that he would be able to easily double or triple his powers. With that kind of power, it was speculated, one might even be able to perform wand-less magic.
Hermione jumped when a light fairy gently touched her shoulder, waking her from her stupor.
"Your parents are at the front desk," she said in a tinkling sweet voice. Hermione nodded and gathered her gear in the book bag. With one last look at the unhelpful spread of books across the table, she turned to leave.