TITLE: Nihirai
RATING: PG-13 for now (I think – if that's wrong, then let me know, I'm still a little rusty)
PAIRING: D/H eventually
WARNING/AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay, this is based around my first Harry Potter story 'Broken'. It's going to tell the events up to, during and after Broken, but I'm pretty sure it's not going to have the same ending – this time its going to be happy! You'll find pronunciations and thanks at the end.
SUMMARY: 3000 years ago a prophecy was foretold by one who was reviled because of it. The story passed into legend and thence into myth, until its memory remained only in children's fairy tales and the prophecy was hidden where nobody could find it. But soon they shall be awakened and the breaking of the world shall be upon us – the myth shall know life and an old Seer's laugh shall be heard from the dawn of time, echoed by a terrible, beautiful, triumphant song of protection and love.
DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter and its locations, characters and scenarios belong to J.K.Rowling. Any correlations with the work of somebody else are purely coincidental and I apologise for any insult.
DEDICATION: This is for Merrideth, who was the only one who asked about Harry and Draco's relationship, and who asked to hear the story behind it – thank you for inspiring me to write this!
Okay, hopefully this chapter will be longer – I feel like I have a lot to say so there is a huge chance that it'll satisfy some of you out there who're probably hankering after longer chapters; I know I always am! I'm really sorry about the lateness of this – I've been going through exam revision and coursework and I've got several mock exams next week. I should be able to get the next out quicker – reviews may help to encourage the speed of my fingers!
*Ahem* *looks around sheepishly* Sorry about that. Heh. Um, I was looking at the chapter and I suddenly realised that the title made no sense, and then it clicked – I had forgotten to add a fairly crucial part, so, um, here it is, reworked and with the missing parts added!
**************************************************************************** *************
Chapter Two: A Maze of Memories
"Recollection is the only paradise from which we cannot be turned out" –
Jean Paul Richter
Bored. Bored bored bored.
Despite what everyone else in the entire Wizarding world seemed to think, Draco Lucian Malfoy did not get his every wish and desire, nor could he do whatever he wanted whenever he wanted. In fact, his life was probably even more strictly governed, his fun even more strictly timetabled than most of the other teenage wizards in the world.
And he hated it. Doing what his father said when his father said it. Going out only with one of his parents for an important function or shopping trip. He was watched constantly, although some of the House Elves took pity on him and allowed him to wander unseen through the mansion, lying to his father about what he was doing. He didn't let them do it that often, though, because he knew that if his father found out, they would be punished, and he didn't enjoy seeing them squeal as Lucius kicked them down the stairs or beat them with his cane, the vicious silver snake head cutting deep into their fragile skin.
Some House Elves did it any way, though, like Dobby. He missed Dobby; the somewhat rebellious House Elf had been nice company on days like this, and always tried to make sure that Draco was happy. He was, however, pleased that the Elf had been freed, even if it had been done by Potter, which he was not at all pleased about.
Meandering along one of the many long, seemingly useless corridors in the Manor, his hand trailing along the softly wallpapered walls, he wished that Dobby was here – just to talk to, to maybe play a game with, anything to relieve this sodding boredom that grated at his nerves like Professor Flitwick's nails on his blackboard.
Bored bored bored bored BORED!
Angrily, he turned towards the one place that he hoped might offer some sort of reprieve from the sheer lack of nothing within the Manor. He climbed the softly creaking staircase to the vast attic, trepidation surfacing as he remembered his father's warnings – 'Do NOT go in the attic, Draco. It is unwise to disturb the ghosts of the past.' – and shivered, picturing once again the serious look on Lucius' face.
He opened the door slowly, wary of whatever might be drifting through the dust motes, but he found only several boxes and trunks stacked neatly throughout the room, some covered with dust sheets and others with a layer of dust, the occasional spider-web catching the light from the narrow windows. The House Elves only cleaned up here once every two years, as Lucius did not see the need to subject this room to the same treatment the others received when people visited it much less.
He wandered aimlessly through the various containers and occasionally twitched a dust sheet or brushed a spider-web from its mooring place until he reached a box that seemed to shimmer, as if catching the afternoon sunlight perfectly, reflecting it back to all corners of the room. Curious, he approached it and reached out towards the clasp, flicking it open and lifting the lid. Inside there was a lot of books piled haphazardly, as if his father, or some other ancestor, had been worried about the contents and had hurriedly put them all into this container and shoved it into the attic.
One book in particular caught his eye, its gilded edges attracting his attention, as all things gold did. Reaching for it, he lifted it out of the case, his hands brushing away the accumulated dust. The script on the front of the leather cover was elegant and gothic in style, and the title was as clear as it probably had been when it was first made; time's ravages had done nothing to harm its splendour, and yet he sensed no preservation spell, nor the effects of a potion.
He curiously opened the cover and a delicious musty scent drifted up to meet him: the smell of old book and perfumed ink. 'Legends of Old' was the title, repeated once again in the gothic script on the first page – there was no author mentioned, nor any dedications or prefaces. The next page went straight into the first story, and as Draco read its spellbinding words, something tugged at his heart; like the story it told was familiar, and not in the sense of it being a story told to him as a child, but something deeper and far more poignant...
~*~*~*~
The Tale of Rihindyl
Long ago, before the world was remade, there was a Temple of Mages, famed throughout the world for its generosity towards those with magic, and for the skill of the people who lived and worked within it. Called Rihindyl, after the star that people believed was responsible for blessing mages with their power, it not only trained those with magic but also protected a mysterious power, known only as Nihirai.
Plentiful in those days as they are no longer were Seers; true ones, with great power and eyes as ancient as time. Ycarn was one such Seer and she was particularly blessed, bearing a mark upon her inner wrist – two stars, intertwined. But her power soon became her curse, when she foretold the fall of Rihindyl and Nihirai by way of a fierce attack from a Dark Force, and from these dreadful events would result the breaking of the very world. But she saw a beacon of hope; somehow, Nihirai would return and exact vengeance upon the Dark Force.
Her prophecy earned her nothing but derision and she was cast out of Rihindyl, cursed to live forever to see that what she had predicted would not come to pass. Desolate and alone, Ycarn sought shelter from the disaster that she knew was coming; even if her fellow mages had called it heresy and claimed that their gods would never allow them to fall, and that no force that powerful or that dark would have gone unnoticed by them, she was certain of the truth in her vision.
Despite the Temple's constant denials the Dark Force came and a trail of destruction followed it. It sundered the Temple and sought, but found no trace of Nihirai. Something in the Temple's destruction caused great tremours in the earth, and, within days of Rihindyl's fall, the world broke. Volcanoes exploded and the earth shook, and hurricanes and tornadoes and tsunamis tore the world to pieces.
But two things survived – Ycarn and the Dark Force. The latter had heard of the Seer and her prophecy and sought her out, sure that she, and she alone, knew what had become of Nihirai; that mysterious power that could pose so much danger for the darkness. And it discovered that in fact three things had survived – Nihirai had known that the Dark Force was coming, and had also known that she was not powerful enough to withstand the assault, and so she had hidden somewhere that even Ycarn had not known about.
Furious, the Dark Force attempted to kill Ycarn, but found that it was impossible to do so, for the curse that her fellows had placed upon her had taken effect – Ycarn could not die until that which she had predicted came to pass.
And so she waits, the knowledge that she carries a heavy burden, but worth all the trials she has gone through, for she considers seeing the destruction of the Dark Force and the glorious return of Nihirai considerable reward for her patience, even if she has to endure constant visits from the darkness that waits also and desires only Nihirai's fall, visits where it demands from her, time and again, any knowledge she possesses about that mysterious power.
But soon, Nihirai shall return and all the world shall sing with joy, and the Dark Force shall scream with rage and terror as it is smote down, punished for its crimes.
~*~*~*~
Draco drew himself out of the story, for some reason feeling its rhythms beat in his very bones. It was called a legend, and he vaguely remembered it being classified as a fairy tale at some point, but there was something about it that rang truer than he though was possible, that seemed to speak to him, that seemed inexplicably *right*.
He browsed through the other stories written in the book, but found nothing of any particular interest; just old legends that had been passed down through pureblood Wizarding families for a very long time, ones that every child in Slytherin and some in Ravenclaw knew. But he was sure that only the most select few had even heard a whisper of the tale of Rihindyl and Ycarn – it was extremely old and thus a lot had been lost, in fact it was likely that the version he had just read was completely different from the original, as warped as stories became after passing through time.
But something about that particular tale drew him, kept him returning to the soft pages that detailed the legend so beautifully. Again and again he turned back to the start of the book, wanting to read it once more, to reaffirm its existence. He didn't know where this curiosity had come from – usually he wasn't at all interested in the past (History of Magic was *the* most boring lesson *ever*) but this particular section of it had inexplicably caught at his interest, and he found himself almost believing in it.
Resolved to try and discover more about Rihindyl and Nihirai and Ycarn, he decided to take the book to his room and attempt to glean even more knowledge from its pages until he could go to the vast Wizarding bookshops in Diagon Alley or even Knockturn Alley.
He scooped up the book in his hands, closed the trunk that it had come from and stood up. Turning, he swept towards the door, the hem of his robes dragging slightly in the dust. But as he turned the handle and exited the room he failed to notice the trunk in the corner growing brighter in the flame of sunset, before shimmering pearly white and vanishing slowly, fading away into the light until nothing remained where it had lain.
**************************************************************************** *************
Storming into his bedroom Draco chucked the book on the bed, a feeling of elation encompassing him – his mother had finally let him go outside, and he was going to spend the few hours wandering that damn maze that he had not yet conquered, despite the fact that he had actually been here his entire life. The Malfoy Maze was famous among pureblooded families, simply for the fact that no one in living memory had *ever* made it to the centre.
He'd been trying to get his mother to let him go out there for days, ever since the start of the summer, but this was the first actual time that he would be allowed – he *really* wanted to see what was at the centre; it had to be something completely mysterious and definitely worth all the effort that all his ancestors had put in to getting there.
He slipped into Muggle jeans (the finest ever made, of course) and a thin white sleeveless top before tugging on a comfortable pair of walking boots and grabbing a hat to shield himself from the blazing hot sun. He took one last glance at the book on his bed and hesitated. Maybe... maybe he should remove it from plain sight. One never knew what his father would disapprove of next, and he felt instinctively that this would something that would earn him a particularly vicious lecture.
Sighing in annoyance, all the while glancing behind him in slight fear, as if feeling his father looming over his shoulder, he lifted the book from the bed and tucked it into the lowest drawer of his nightstand, amongst several approved Potions books. Then he turned and raced out into the garden, eager to get started, and sure that *today*, today would be the day that he reigned victorious over that bloody maze.
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Panting, Draco slowly sat down in the soft grass at one of the crossroads in the maze. He lifted his hat off his head and wiped at the beads of sweat gathered at his hairline. God, he'd forgotten how hot it got out in the maze with no shade when the direct sunlight shone on it. He leaned back against the hedge and wished he's brought a bottle of water out with him or a fan of some kind.
He almost felt like giving up, waiting for another day; when it wasn't so hot, perhaps. But something in him drove him on – it felt like if he could do this, then he could do anything; face his father, choose his own life and career, even – and this was something that was buried deep in his heart – even refuse the Mark.
Standing up, he forged ahead in a kind of trance, his feet leading the way, turning right and left without his say so. They did not falter, guided by something *other*, something definitely not within him. Yet he felt no panic – it was not Imperius because, unlike Harry Potter, he could not break that curse, and he'd never heard of any other spell that could control you in this manner. Besides, he knew exactly what he was doing, and could, if he chose, decide not to follow the strange compulsion... but... it felt... right, somehow. As if this was meant to be happening, and he shouldn't fight it, and he would come to no harm, but in fact he would be safer.
It was strange, but exhilarating. And secret, like the beautiful leather- bound book hidden among Professor Snape's extra reading. All his – nobody else was to know that story, nor feel the way that he was feeling now.
Suddenly, the feeling gave out, and he was left feeling a distinct sense of loss. Like something that was meant to be his had left him all alone to blunder along blind to everything that mattered. But all of a sudden that feeling didn't matter, surpassed by the true amazement and wonder when he realized that he was at the centre of the maze.
It was beautiful. A carefully sculptured marble fountain in the centre – nothing so crass as angels or knights or cherubs, but simply a woman in a flowing gown that almost seemed to ripple with the wind, her hands raised high, her face raised in ecstasy, mouth wide in joyful laughter, her eyes closed, and the water that streamed from her hair seemed almost like tears. Awestruck, Draco approached the woman, sitting on the rim of the fountain and trailing his fingers in the blessedly cool water and gazing out on the rest of the picture.
Flower beds were randomly placed, full of vibrant colour. The path seemed to glitter with an inner light as it circled the fountain and wound through the small clearing. There were rose bushes and lady's swings with flowering vines wrapped around the post. The grass was neat, and fresh and green, glimmering in the sunlight.
But the most glorious piece was by far the fountain. Draco once again turned his shining eyes to her, reaching out to stroke the pristine white marble of her dress. But as he did, he noticed an inscription on the wide girdle of her gown and he leaned closer to decipher it, fiercely and inexplicable interested in what this wonderful, beautiful woman would have to say.
*Whosoever reaches my resting place, know that I knew such joy and happiness in this place. I am honoured that my final task should be to play a part in Your life, my Lord. Do not despair, You shall know such ecstasy as surpasses all mortal imagination, though You shall remember such pain as no mortal has ever considered. Know, however, that You are blessed with Life's grace, and that You shall live in glorious times.*
Draco caught his breath, the words striking a deep bell inside him that resonated in his soul. Glancing up once again at the beautiful joyful face, he wondered wistfully if he would ever be that happy, if he would ever deserve to experience the joy that this unknown woman did. Blinking away a few tears, he turned his mind to the curious inscription – he wondered who exactly she was talking to, and if she was a prophet of some kind, or someone who believed that Merlin was a god. (It did not occur to him that she might be Muggleborn, and thus believe in their God – they were in Malfoy Manor, after all.)
Dismissing the problem from his mind, he turned and reluctantly left the centre of the maze, but not before taking one last lingering glance, hoping to fasten its exact likeness in his memory for times when he was sad – to remember that it was possible to live without sadness, without malice and cruelty. Sighing sadly, Draco turned and stepped out of the most beautiful place he had seen in his life, never to visit it again, the words of the woman that echoed through time burned into his memory for as long as he lived
Okay, that felt much better, and longer too! Hope its appreciated! And I apologise sincerely for those who consider my using the capitalization of 'you' and 'your' an insult or a blasphemy. I am not religious, but I respect those who are, and please know that there is no insult intended – I am well aware that just because I don't believe in God doesn't mean that he doesn't exist, even if it is only in the hearts and minds of some people. But the capitalization is important, and all will be revealed in due time. (Mysterious enough?)
Nihirai: NIH-hih-RYE Rihindyl: RIH-hin-DIAL (You know, like, to dial a number?) Ycarn: EE-kahn (Like the black vampire in Underworld.)
Ava -- Thank you, I hope it'll get better. And I have to say that right now its meant to be confusing, but I hope that it'll get clearer soon!
Dwadwadwa – Hi! Just looked at your reviews. Wow! Thank you *so* much. I appreciate such support and encouragement, and I am actually speechless. My grasp of the English language has vanished in the face of such praise. I'm glad that the stories inspire emotion – I don't consider a story entertainment unless it inspires some kind of emotion, even if its only appreciation and interest. The emotion doesn't matter, it's the fact that there's a response, you know? Anyway, thank you very much for all your reviews, and I hope you continue to enjoy my stories – I'll certainly try not to disappoint, and I hope you like the bit I added; the title makes a little more sense now, I think. (And I hate the word 'dudette' too, even though, technically, I am one, being female and all – I really should write my bio, shouldn't I?)
Keikokin – Thank you so much, I really appreciate your encouragement but I really can't say anything about what Draco and Harry are gonna do, but its obviously going to be connected to Nihirai and Rihindyl and Ycarn. And no, Lucius doesn't know about it, he just doesn't approve of Draco going up into the attic – something of a family superstition, passed down from father to son (You'll see how that has its uses, although I'm pretty sure you can guess... alright, I'll tell you – nobody else was meant to find the book, just Draco, seeing as how it talks about a very strong mysterious power and all, so the superstition was implanted in the Malfoy genes at the same time as the book was planted in the attic. Only Draco would be able to overcome and ignore the superstition and thus find the book.) Whew – that was a lengthy response – I hope you've got your answers! And I'm very glad you find it interesting – I'd hoped it would be.
RATING: PG-13 for now (I think – if that's wrong, then let me know, I'm still a little rusty)
PAIRING: D/H eventually
WARNING/AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay, this is based around my first Harry Potter story 'Broken'. It's going to tell the events up to, during and after Broken, but I'm pretty sure it's not going to have the same ending – this time its going to be happy! You'll find pronunciations and thanks at the end.
SUMMARY: 3000 years ago a prophecy was foretold by one who was reviled because of it. The story passed into legend and thence into myth, until its memory remained only in children's fairy tales and the prophecy was hidden where nobody could find it. But soon they shall be awakened and the breaking of the world shall be upon us – the myth shall know life and an old Seer's laugh shall be heard from the dawn of time, echoed by a terrible, beautiful, triumphant song of protection and love.
DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter and its locations, characters and scenarios belong to J.K.Rowling. Any correlations with the work of somebody else are purely coincidental and I apologise for any insult.
DEDICATION: This is for Merrideth, who was the only one who asked about Harry and Draco's relationship, and who asked to hear the story behind it – thank you for inspiring me to write this!
Okay, hopefully this chapter will be longer – I feel like I have a lot to say so there is a huge chance that it'll satisfy some of you out there who're probably hankering after longer chapters; I know I always am! I'm really sorry about the lateness of this – I've been going through exam revision and coursework and I've got several mock exams next week. I should be able to get the next out quicker – reviews may help to encourage the speed of my fingers!
*Ahem* *looks around sheepishly* Sorry about that. Heh. Um, I was looking at the chapter and I suddenly realised that the title made no sense, and then it clicked – I had forgotten to add a fairly crucial part, so, um, here it is, reworked and with the missing parts added!
**************************************************************************** *************
Chapter Two: A Maze of Memories
"Recollection is the only paradise from which we cannot be turned out" –
Jean Paul Richter
Bored. Bored bored bored.
Despite what everyone else in the entire Wizarding world seemed to think, Draco Lucian Malfoy did not get his every wish and desire, nor could he do whatever he wanted whenever he wanted. In fact, his life was probably even more strictly governed, his fun even more strictly timetabled than most of the other teenage wizards in the world.
And he hated it. Doing what his father said when his father said it. Going out only with one of his parents for an important function or shopping trip. He was watched constantly, although some of the House Elves took pity on him and allowed him to wander unseen through the mansion, lying to his father about what he was doing. He didn't let them do it that often, though, because he knew that if his father found out, they would be punished, and he didn't enjoy seeing them squeal as Lucius kicked them down the stairs or beat them with his cane, the vicious silver snake head cutting deep into their fragile skin.
Some House Elves did it any way, though, like Dobby. He missed Dobby; the somewhat rebellious House Elf had been nice company on days like this, and always tried to make sure that Draco was happy. He was, however, pleased that the Elf had been freed, even if it had been done by Potter, which he was not at all pleased about.
Meandering along one of the many long, seemingly useless corridors in the Manor, his hand trailing along the softly wallpapered walls, he wished that Dobby was here – just to talk to, to maybe play a game with, anything to relieve this sodding boredom that grated at his nerves like Professor Flitwick's nails on his blackboard.
Bored bored bored bored BORED!
Angrily, he turned towards the one place that he hoped might offer some sort of reprieve from the sheer lack of nothing within the Manor. He climbed the softly creaking staircase to the vast attic, trepidation surfacing as he remembered his father's warnings – 'Do NOT go in the attic, Draco. It is unwise to disturb the ghosts of the past.' – and shivered, picturing once again the serious look on Lucius' face.
He opened the door slowly, wary of whatever might be drifting through the dust motes, but he found only several boxes and trunks stacked neatly throughout the room, some covered with dust sheets and others with a layer of dust, the occasional spider-web catching the light from the narrow windows. The House Elves only cleaned up here once every two years, as Lucius did not see the need to subject this room to the same treatment the others received when people visited it much less.
He wandered aimlessly through the various containers and occasionally twitched a dust sheet or brushed a spider-web from its mooring place until he reached a box that seemed to shimmer, as if catching the afternoon sunlight perfectly, reflecting it back to all corners of the room. Curious, he approached it and reached out towards the clasp, flicking it open and lifting the lid. Inside there was a lot of books piled haphazardly, as if his father, or some other ancestor, had been worried about the contents and had hurriedly put them all into this container and shoved it into the attic.
One book in particular caught his eye, its gilded edges attracting his attention, as all things gold did. Reaching for it, he lifted it out of the case, his hands brushing away the accumulated dust. The script on the front of the leather cover was elegant and gothic in style, and the title was as clear as it probably had been when it was first made; time's ravages had done nothing to harm its splendour, and yet he sensed no preservation spell, nor the effects of a potion.
He curiously opened the cover and a delicious musty scent drifted up to meet him: the smell of old book and perfumed ink. 'Legends of Old' was the title, repeated once again in the gothic script on the first page – there was no author mentioned, nor any dedications or prefaces. The next page went straight into the first story, and as Draco read its spellbinding words, something tugged at his heart; like the story it told was familiar, and not in the sense of it being a story told to him as a child, but something deeper and far more poignant...
~*~*~*~
The Tale of Rihindyl
Long ago, before the world was remade, there was a Temple of Mages, famed throughout the world for its generosity towards those with magic, and for the skill of the people who lived and worked within it. Called Rihindyl, after the star that people believed was responsible for blessing mages with their power, it not only trained those with magic but also protected a mysterious power, known only as Nihirai.
Plentiful in those days as they are no longer were Seers; true ones, with great power and eyes as ancient as time. Ycarn was one such Seer and she was particularly blessed, bearing a mark upon her inner wrist – two stars, intertwined. But her power soon became her curse, when she foretold the fall of Rihindyl and Nihirai by way of a fierce attack from a Dark Force, and from these dreadful events would result the breaking of the very world. But she saw a beacon of hope; somehow, Nihirai would return and exact vengeance upon the Dark Force.
Her prophecy earned her nothing but derision and she was cast out of Rihindyl, cursed to live forever to see that what she had predicted would not come to pass. Desolate and alone, Ycarn sought shelter from the disaster that she knew was coming; even if her fellow mages had called it heresy and claimed that their gods would never allow them to fall, and that no force that powerful or that dark would have gone unnoticed by them, she was certain of the truth in her vision.
Despite the Temple's constant denials the Dark Force came and a trail of destruction followed it. It sundered the Temple and sought, but found no trace of Nihirai. Something in the Temple's destruction caused great tremours in the earth, and, within days of Rihindyl's fall, the world broke. Volcanoes exploded and the earth shook, and hurricanes and tornadoes and tsunamis tore the world to pieces.
But two things survived – Ycarn and the Dark Force. The latter had heard of the Seer and her prophecy and sought her out, sure that she, and she alone, knew what had become of Nihirai; that mysterious power that could pose so much danger for the darkness. And it discovered that in fact three things had survived – Nihirai had known that the Dark Force was coming, and had also known that she was not powerful enough to withstand the assault, and so she had hidden somewhere that even Ycarn had not known about.
Furious, the Dark Force attempted to kill Ycarn, but found that it was impossible to do so, for the curse that her fellows had placed upon her had taken effect – Ycarn could not die until that which she had predicted came to pass.
And so she waits, the knowledge that she carries a heavy burden, but worth all the trials she has gone through, for she considers seeing the destruction of the Dark Force and the glorious return of Nihirai considerable reward for her patience, even if she has to endure constant visits from the darkness that waits also and desires only Nihirai's fall, visits where it demands from her, time and again, any knowledge she possesses about that mysterious power.
But soon, Nihirai shall return and all the world shall sing with joy, and the Dark Force shall scream with rage and terror as it is smote down, punished for its crimes.
~*~*~*~
Draco drew himself out of the story, for some reason feeling its rhythms beat in his very bones. It was called a legend, and he vaguely remembered it being classified as a fairy tale at some point, but there was something about it that rang truer than he though was possible, that seemed to speak to him, that seemed inexplicably *right*.
He browsed through the other stories written in the book, but found nothing of any particular interest; just old legends that had been passed down through pureblood Wizarding families for a very long time, ones that every child in Slytherin and some in Ravenclaw knew. But he was sure that only the most select few had even heard a whisper of the tale of Rihindyl and Ycarn – it was extremely old and thus a lot had been lost, in fact it was likely that the version he had just read was completely different from the original, as warped as stories became after passing through time.
But something about that particular tale drew him, kept him returning to the soft pages that detailed the legend so beautifully. Again and again he turned back to the start of the book, wanting to read it once more, to reaffirm its existence. He didn't know where this curiosity had come from – usually he wasn't at all interested in the past (History of Magic was *the* most boring lesson *ever*) but this particular section of it had inexplicably caught at his interest, and he found himself almost believing in it.
Resolved to try and discover more about Rihindyl and Nihirai and Ycarn, he decided to take the book to his room and attempt to glean even more knowledge from its pages until he could go to the vast Wizarding bookshops in Diagon Alley or even Knockturn Alley.
He scooped up the book in his hands, closed the trunk that it had come from and stood up. Turning, he swept towards the door, the hem of his robes dragging slightly in the dust. But as he turned the handle and exited the room he failed to notice the trunk in the corner growing brighter in the flame of sunset, before shimmering pearly white and vanishing slowly, fading away into the light until nothing remained where it had lain.
**************************************************************************** *************
Storming into his bedroom Draco chucked the book on the bed, a feeling of elation encompassing him – his mother had finally let him go outside, and he was going to spend the few hours wandering that damn maze that he had not yet conquered, despite the fact that he had actually been here his entire life. The Malfoy Maze was famous among pureblooded families, simply for the fact that no one in living memory had *ever* made it to the centre.
He'd been trying to get his mother to let him go out there for days, ever since the start of the summer, but this was the first actual time that he would be allowed – he *really* wanted to see what was at the centre; it had to be something completely mysterious and definitely worth all the effort that all his ancestors had put in to getting there.
He slipped into Muggle jeans (the finest ever made, of course) and a thin white sleeveless top before tugging on a comfortable pair of walking boots and grabbing a hat to shield himself from the blazing hot sun. He took one last glance at the book on his bed and hesitated. Maybe... maybe he should remove it from plain sight. One never knew what his father would disapprove of next, and he felt instinctively that this would something that would earn him a particularly vicious lecture.
Sighing in annoyance, all the while glancing behind him in slight fear, as if feeling his father looming over his shoulder, he lifted the book from the bed and tucked it into the lowest drawer of his nightstand, amongst several approved Potions books. Then he turned and raced out into the garden, eager to get started, and sure that *today*, today would be the day that he reigned victorious over that bloody maze.
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Panting, Draco slowly sat down in the soft grass at one of the crossroads in the maze. He lifted his hat off his head and wiped at the beads of sweat gathered at his hairline. God, he'd forgotten how hot it got out in the maze with no shade when the direct sunlight shone on it. He leaned back against the hedge and wished he's brought a bottle of water out with him or a fan of some kind.
He almost felt like giving up, waiting for another day; when it wasn't so hot, perhaps. But something in him drove him on – it felt like if he could do this, then he could do anything; face his father, choose his own life and career, even – and this was something that was buried deep in his heart – even refuse the Mark.
Standing up, he forged ahead in a kind of trance, his feet leading the way, turning right and left without his say so. They did not falter, guided by something *other*, something definitely not within him. Yet he felt no panic – it was not Imperius because, unlike Harry Potter, he could not break that curse, and he'd never heard of any other spell that could control you in this manner. Besides, he knew exactly what he was doing, and could, if he chose, decide not to follow the strange compulsion... but... it felt... right, somehow. As if this was meant to be happening, and he shouldn't fight it, and he would come to no harm, but in fact he would be safer.
It was strange, but exhilarating. And secret, like the beautiful leather- bound book hidden among Professor Snape's extra reading. All his – nobody else was to know that story, nor feel the way that he was feeling now.
Suddenly, the feeling gave out, and he was left feeling a distinct sense of loss. Like something that was meant to be his had left him all alone to blunder along blind to everything that mattered. But all of a sudden that feeling didn't matter, surpassed by the true amazement and wonder when he realized that he was at the centre of the maze.
It was beautiful. A carefully sculptured marble fountain in the centre – nothing so crass as angels or knights or cherubs, but simply a woman in a flowing gown that almost seemed to ripple with the wind, her hands raised high, her face raised in ecstasy, mouth wide in joyful laughter, her eyes closed, and the water that streamed from her hair seemed almost like tears. Awestruck, Draco approached the woman, sitting on the rim of the fountain and trailing his fingers in the blessedly cool water and gazing out on the rest of the picture.
Flower beds were randomly placed, full of vibrant colour. The path seemed to glitter with an inner light as it circled the fountain and wound through the small clearing. There were rose bushes and lady's swings with flowering vines wrapped around the post. The grass was neat, and fresh and green, glimmering in the sunlight.
But the most glorious piece was by far the fountain. Draco once again turned his shining eyes to her, reaching out to stroke the pristine white marble of her dress. But as he did, he noticed an inscription on the wide girdle of her gown and he leaned closer to decipher it, fiercely and inexplicable interested in what this wonderful, beautiful woman would have to say.
*Whosoever reaches my resting place, know that I knew such joy and happiness in this place. I am honoured that my final task should be to play a part in Your life, my Lord. Do not despair, You shall know such ecstasy as surpasses all mortal imagination, though You shall remember such pain as no mortal has ever considered. Know, however, that You are blessed with Life's grace, and that You shall live in glorious times.*
Draco caught his breath, the words striking a deep bell inside him that resonated in his soul. Glancing up once again at the beautiful joyful face, he wondered wistfully if he would ever be that happy, if he would ever deserve to experience the joy that this unknown woman did. Blinking away a few tears, he turned his mind to the curious inscription – he wondered who exactly she was talking to, and if she was a prophet of some kind, or someone who believed that Merlin was a god. (It did not occur to him that she might be Muggleborn, and thus believe in their God – they were in Malfoy Manor, after all.)
Dismissing the problem from his mind, he turned and reluctantly left the centre of the maze, but not before taking one last lingering glance, hoping to fasten its exact likeness in his memory for times when he was sad – to remember that it was possible to live without sadness, without malice and cruelty. Sighing sadly, Draco turned and stepped out of the most beautiful place he had seen in his life, never to visit it again, the words of the woman that echoed through time burned into his memory for as long as he lived
Okay, that felt much better, and longer too! Hope its appreciated! And I apologise sincerely for those who consider my using the capitalization of 'you' and 'your' an insult or a blasphemy. I am not religious, but I respect those who are, and please know that there is no insult intended – I am well aware that just because I don't believe in God doesn't mean that he doesn't exist, even if it is only in the hearts and minds of some people. But the capitalization is important, and all will be revealed in due time. (Mysterious enough?)
Nihirai: NIH-hih-RYE Rihindyl: RIH-hin-DIAL (You know, like, to dial a number?) Ycarn: EE-kahn (Like the black vampire in Underworld.)
Ava -- Thank you, I hope it'll get better. And I have to say that right now its meant to be confusing, but I hope that it'll get clearer soon!
Dwadwadwa – Hi! Just looked at your reviews. Wow! Thank you *so* much. I appreciate such support and encouragement, and I am actually speechless. My grasp of the English language has vanished in the face of such praise. I'm glad that the stories inspire emotion – I don't consider a story entertainment unless it inspires some kind of emotion, even if its only appreciation and interest. The emotion doesn't matter, it's the fact that there's a response, you know? Anyway, thank you very much for all your reviews, and I hope you continue to enjoy my stories – I'll certainly try not to disappoint, and I hope you like the bit I added; the title makes a little more sense now, I think. (And I hate the word 'dudette' too, even though, technically, I am one, being female and all – I really should write my bio, shouldn't I?)
Keikokin – Thank you so much, I really appreciate your encouragement but I really can't say anything about what Draco and Harry are gonna do, but its obviously going to be connected to Nihirai and Rihindyl and Ycarn. And no, Lucius doesn't know about it, he just doesn't approve of Draco going up into the attic – something of a family superstition, passed down from father to son (You'll see how that has its uses, although I'm pretty sure you can guess... alright, I'll tell you – nobody else was meant to find the book, just Draco, seeing as how it talks about a very strong mysterious power and all, so the superstition was implanted in the Malfoy genes at the same time as the book was planted in the attic. Only Draco would be able to overcome and ignore the superstition and thus find the book.) Whew – that was a lengthy response – I hope you've got your answers! And I'm very glad you find it interesting – I'd hoped it would be.