Thanks again to those who have reviewed! Thanks to: frozenroses, sunfire-moondesire, lilhouseelf, inmydreamworld and Pirouette028! Thank you – I love reviews, they're the only thing that keeps me going, any ways here's another chapter and the plot is starting to form… hopefully you will enjoy!
Chapter Five: Abyssus Erigo
Of all the diabolical and dangerous rituals preformed in the magical world, the Abyssus Erigo ritual is without doubt the most rare and evil of them all. There has been no actual recording of this ritual-prophecy to have ever been preformed; the only evidence is the feverish ramblings of Seers and the mystification of centaurs.
Though most experts believe this ritual does not exist and believe that it is not possible, some believe that this ritual may actually be feasible. Many believe that this is a curse, handed down from generation to generation but more over, it has been debated whether this ritual is even a ritual, or perhaps a prophecy or even a combination of both, due to the fact that this has been prophesised for thousands of years .It is foretold that in very ancient and historical pureblood wizarding families, within every sixth generation lies the key. The key to raising the underworld, the realm more commonly known as: hell.
It is said that the details of this ritual is taught to those who are of the sixth generation at a very young age, to be imprinted in the mind, to lay forgotten in the recesses of the subconscious until they are of age to preform this ritual where the memory may resurface unknowingly as either visions or dreams to the chosen sixth.
To preform the ritual, it requires three vials of blood; two of those will be from the blood of one chosen from every sixth generation. To gather this may take twelve hundred years, this is majority of the reason why there has been no recording of this ritual, for it takes six generations to produce one vial of blood. The third vial must belong to the one who must preform the ritual, for the owner of this blood is granted the power to command the forces that rise from the depths…
That was most of what Draco could recall from the textbook, he would have had it with him at this very moment but Hermione would not release tenacious her grip from that book because it was such an interesting read. He wanted answers and he wanted them now. This Abyssus Erigo ritual, prophecy, whatever it was – he knew it tied in with his dreams. These dreams, these visions had been becoming even more frequent as the weeks flew by. Why, it explained it there itself. Was he really connected in some twisted and diabolical contrive designed to raise hell? Or was this some really sick, twisted joke? He knew his family dated back centuries, but he didn't think it would be that old. Eventually, he resolved to look it up in the Library. There must be at least one book in there that contained more information inside it other than the one that Granger had greedily snatched away from him.
During his free period after lunch he set off to the Library. Making a quick check to make sure the coast was clear, he cast an invisibility spell on himself and entered the Restricted Section. He highly doubted that a book containing some of the darkest rituals known to man would be on a regular shelf for all innocent First-years to see.
His search began. Making sure to keep quiet, he looked through piles of malicious and sinister looking books. He had never been in the restricted section before, aside from the occasional dare or thrill ride in his younger years. But this time he was actually searching for a book, not excitement. Many of these books reminded him of the manor and his father's lovely little collection in a secret room underneath the Drawing Room floor. But now was not the time to become nostalgic, he only had under an hour…
It was now five minutes until the period was over and nothing. It was a fruitless search. He came across some pretty dark and interesting things, but nothing that could help him discover information on this Abyssus Erigo thing. Frustrated, he disillusioned himself and hastily walked to his next lesson…
"Oh for heaven's sake Ron!" Hermione exasperated in the Gryffindor common room, after looking up from her potions essay for the fifth time. It was almost eight o'clock and Ron who had been rocking nervously, whimpered in his seat. "Oh it's not that hard, honestly!" Ron didn't reply. He only faced her, looking terrified. Hermione gave him a sympathetic look. "Look, would it be easier if I did it for you?"
His head shot up. "What! No! Then she'll think I'm a coward and that I always need you to save me and… and…"
Hermione raised an eyebrow. "You, a coward? Oh I didn't notice." She said sarcastically. "Look at you, you're quivering with fear! Come on Ron! You're supposed to be a Gryffindor." Hermione sighed and returned to her potions work.
"B-But what if she doesn't like me?" Ron asked in a squeaky voice. Hermione put down her quill and sighed exasperatedly.
"There's only one way to find out Ronald – Look here she comes!" Hermione hissed quietly. And indeed, there descending the steps like a petite butterfly, was Lavender Brown. The girl Ron will try helplessly to charm. Ron looked over his head slowly and gulped, turning an almost eerie tinge of green. "Go on Ron." Hermione encouraged. Ron nodded slowly and shakily stood. Looking like he had just swallowed the Polyjuice Potion he marched as confidently as he could to Lavender Brown, who smiled and batted her unnaturally long eyelashes as he approached. Silently wishing him luck, Hermione returned to her Potions Essay.
A mere thirty seconds later Ron returned, and judging by Lavender's disgusted shriek, Hermione figured it did not turn out as he had expected, or even hoped. He turned impossibly red in the face after disastrously failing his attempt to woo Lavender Brown. Hermione sighed helplessly and shook her head. "Honestly Ron how hard is it to say: excuse me Lavender but would you like to accompany me to Hogsmeade next weekend?" She exasperated.
"Oh sor-ree!" He snapped as he collapsed into a squishy chair. "Well sorry I'm-Miss-Perfect-Date-Doctor!" Hermione rolled her eyes and finished the last sentence of her three-foot long essay and packed up her things. Ron stood to return to the boys dorm, Hermione followed. "It's just that I can't talk and I get nervous around beautiful women." Said Ron as they both walked away. Hermione stopped on a step, looking slightly hurt.
"Beautiful women." She echoed with a hint of accusation.
"Yes, beautiful women like Lavender Brown, now she's a real looker." Said Ron off-headedly oblivious to Hermione's hint as he continued up the stairs. Hermione looked down looking quite upset and slowly trundled after him.
"So, so you're problem is, is that you can't talk around beautiful women." She said feeling even more insulted.
"Exactly." Said Ron, he finally caught a glimpse of her face and stopped. "Hermione what's wrong?"
Oh so now he gets it…
"Oh nothing…nothing, I'm just leaving – you know I'm seeing Malfoy soon for the um, decathlon thing. Oh look at the time I must be going. Bye." In an instant Hermione bolted down the stairs and out of the Gryffindor Common Room before he could witness the silent tear streaking her cheek. Staring after her, Ron merely shrugged.
"What crawled up your ass and died?" Draco drawled as Hermione vehemently stormed in and roughly dropped her book bag in the conveniently vacant chair beside her. She gave no reply, removed a book from her bag, sat down and slammed the heavy book on the table with a deafening sound. Luckily it was not filled with dust. "Something is wrong. Even a senseless man could tell." He said, looking up from his book on 'Giant Wars.'
"Ron. Is. Tactless." She spat out quite simply while opening her book.
"What? You figured that out now?" He asked smoothly, wearing that condescending smile, just as always. She ignored him and looked back down to what she was reading. A few minutes of silence passed, where the two were supposedly reading. Draco however, disregarded his immorally boring book and watched her intently, a small smile played on the corners of his lips. Finally he broke the silence.
"Granger?"
"What?" she snapped.
"Are you going to read that?" He asked, looking pointedly at the book before her.
"What? Of course I'm reading this." She said, finally looking up to him.
"Really?" He asked, with a glint his eye.
"Yes, really." She was beginning to sound annoyed.
"I'm impressed Granger, you've learned how to read upside down."
Slowly Hermione tilted her head downwards, her insides filling with dread. And indeed, the book was upside down. Her cheeks couldn't help but turn a tinge of pink. Forcefully she spun her heavy book the right way around.
"So what's this drivel about the Weasel?" He asked casually.
Knowing that the persistent bugger would not back down until he got what he wanted from her, she felt the extreme urge to tell him everything. She didn't care whom she was talking to; she just wanted to complain, to bitch, to let it all out. She knew it was cruel but she was tired of holding it all in, so she basically blurted out everything. The insulted bitch within her had been unleashed.
"Well the weasel – I mean Ronald, well he practically insulted me."
Draco lifted an interested eyebrow.
"Well not intentionally but – He said he got nervous around beautiful women and that he couldn't talk around them."
Draco almost snorted but disguised it as a stifled laugh.
"It's not funny!" She yelled. "It's not -" a tear threatened to fall.
"That impertinent rogue wouldn't know the difference between a goddess or a hag, or between an ass or a stallion!" He laughed. Apparently Hermione failed to see the merriment in the situation.
"No guy will ever…" Hermione trailed off and whispered soft words, which Draco couldn't quite catch. "Just for who I am… they won't do that for me." Her words were made even more inaudible by a small sob, but he heard enough to understand what she was mumbling about.
"Listen Granger, the reason why males won't result to any extremities for you is because you're a pain in the ass."
"He practically called me ugly." She muttered darkly as the tear that threatened to fall, finally fell. Draco winced he did not want to have a crying mudblood on his hands.
"Listen Granger," Draco braced himself and took a large breath. "This is one of the most difficult things I will ever have to do in life so don't dare make me repeat this but… you are… somewhat… decent, in terms of the…department of… pleasing… appearance…" He said with extreme difficulty, choosing his words very carefully. He mentally slapped himself for his lack of eloquence. Real smooth Malfoy, real smooth.
Immediately her silent tears ceased. She seemed to have lightened up considerably and her dark mood vanished. And – heaven help him – she was smiling again.
"But – your hair really is a mess -" He reasoned, She would not stop smiling! "Granger you can be intimidating. All those guys must have been scared of you. Gutless cowards, personally I don't see what they fear in you -"
"Really?" She asked in mild surprise. "Intimidating? Me?"
"Yes Granger." He replied tersely as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Now let us never speak of this again."
Despite his words she only seemed to smile wider, it sort of reminded him of a little girl's doll. Those things with blonde hair and blue eyes that never ceased smiling. Hermione's day had been made, he had granted her a compliment. "Malfoy?"
"What now?" He asked irritably.
"Thank you."
"Er…" He looked quite confused but he brushed it off. "Enough with this nonsense and let's get back to the task at hand. Your Gryffindor nobility is affecting my concentration. We shouldn't waste time over silly squabbles within your infamous threesome."
Even with his words, no sour mood of his could ruin hers, she picked up another book and started humming to herself. Beneath the passive features of his face, Draco was currently mentally kicking himself. I'm such a bloody idiot! What the hell is wrong with me? I must be confounded…
"Granger do you still have that book?" He asked, trying to change the subject.
"Which book?"
"The one you showed me the other night."
"Yes, but it's back in the Gryffindor Common room." She yawned.
He rolled his eyes. "Figures…"
"Why do you want it anyway?" She yawned again.
"It was interesting." Hermione's yawning, caused him to yawn. It was weird the way things happened like that. Quickly making a decision, he stood.
"Where are you going?" She asked. He looked down to her and stretched, gracefully (if that were possible).
"It's going to be a long night and I don't want to fall asleep. I'm getting coffee." He said casually. Her eyes widened in shock.
"B-But this is the Library!" She sputtered. "You can't bring food in here!" She looked around worriedly, making sure Madame Pince didn't happen to be walking around. "You can't bring coffee in the Library!" She hissed.
"…And? She's probably drooling over a stack of books anyway, besides, who will notice? Any spills and a little Scourgify can clean it right up." He said quite convincingly. Man this guy had a way with executing his words. Looking reproachful and not entirely convinced she nodded.
"Fine, just make sure nobody sees you." She said quietly. She had broken the school rules at least fifty times before and a little coffee stain couldn't hurt. Compared to an illegal Polyjuice Potion in the girl's bathroom, this was a piece of cake. And so she waved goodbye as Draco left for the kitchens.
He returned ten minutes later with two steaming mugs of black coffee floating like steaming white clouds in front of him. She looked up from her notes and immediately she started to scold him.
"I told you to be discreet! You're levitating them right in front of you! What if Madame Pince saw you? What if Filch – what? – oh you got one for me too… um thanks…" He placed the mug in front of her and sat down taking a large gulp. The hot liquid travelled down his throat and immediately warmed him. Hesitantly, Hermione took her cup and brought it to her lips, she drank. "It's black." She pointed out.
"Yes it is." He replied.
"How did you know?"
"I can be quite perceptive Granger." He said, taking another sip. Hermione looked confused for a second.
"You watch me at breakfast?" She asked looking baffled. He stopped drinking and looked up to her.
"Once."
Still somewhat baffled, she shrugged and kept drinking. "Thanks." She said, the usual 'whatever' was his reply. Hermione was sort of relieved at this moment. Malfoy, after only one sitting had already memorised something Ron couldn't after six years of dining with her. It was funny actually and she didn't even know why she was so meticulous about her coffee preference. "What type do you like?" she asked.
"Black…" He said. "It's my colour." He added as an afterthought.
"I noticed." She said, nodding. The session was ending and the coffee (which miraculously refilled itself) was a great help. As they were leaving she spoke. "You know I don't know if this is any help but… if you really want that book and I don't know, if I'm still reading it or if someone else has it, you could try owling the book store."
Draco stopped dead in his tracks. Of course! Owling! Why hadn't I thought of that before? I'm such an idiot! "Oh my God, Granger Thank you, see you next time." He said hurriedly as he bolted out of sight towards the Slytherin Dungeons. Hermione stared blankly after him.
With a little smile and the fleeting feeling of butterflies in her stomach she said. "…You're welcome."
Quickly he ran down towards the dungeons. He was very eager for answers, he didn't know why he didn't consider owling before. No, he wasn't going to owl some bookstore which probably didn't have the book, he was going to owl the one person he knew that would know everything about this: his father. Normally he would be hesitant when concerning his father. His father was a man that did not like to be disturbed, but this was an extreme case when Draco was becoming desperate for answers and peace of mind.
Barging through the door to his dormitory, he hastily pulled out a quill and some parchment and wrote.
Father,
The Abyssus Erigo ritual, explain.
If this inconveniences you, please forgive my blunt urgency. Your Son,
Draco Malfoy
Rolling up the parchment, he ran all the way up to the owlery. Bursting through the door he found a random owl and attached the Parchment to it. "Take this to my father, Lucius Malfoy." He said quickly. The owl gave a hoot and flew out the window. Alas, some answers.
Hermione returned to the Gryffindor Common room to greet Harry and Ron. They were all bent up over their homework, again. Rolling her eyes she stepped in and greeted them all. "Hey Harry, Ron how was your night?"
"Busy" grunted Harry.
"Oh you know the usual, no social life, essays too long, incessant studying, buggering about Snape, upset about Lavender." Said Ron with an irritated sweetness in his tone. "How was your lovely night with the ferret-faced git?"
Hermione was about to answer that she had a fine time with the git when she suddenly realised… she did not hate him anymore. It was amazingly bizarre and perhaps even socially and morally wrong but it was the truth. And that's what truth was. "My night with Malfoy was fine." She yawned. Some of that coffee seemed to be wearing off.
"You know Hermione, the way you return from the Library in such a happy mood indicates that you two are actually being civil." Said Harry in disbelief.
"Actually Harry, we are." She said as-a-matter-of-factly.
"I seriously do not believe you just said that." Said Ron scathingly. Hermione shot him a half-hearted glare and sighed.
"First Trelawney, now Hermione." Sighed Harry. Hermione looked up to him angrily, how dare he compare her to that fraud!
"What do you mean Harry?" She asked impatiently.
"Well Trelawney was being even more insane than usual lately – if that were even possible - she spent the entire lesson rambling on about some ritual, or something or other." Said Ron. Hermione rolled her eyes; it was just like the old bat to do something like that. Not wanting to argue at the moment she put her book bag down and snuggled up in one of the squishy chairs by the fire. Undoubtedly one of her most favourite spots in the world. It was the perfect time to either sleep, or brood. She unknowingly decided on the latter. In her silent train of thought, she decided to contemplate her strange revelation. She did not hate him. It was an awkward feeling, not harbouring that burning hate within her heart. But she didn't like him either, he was just one of those people that she knew. She did not either dislike him or like him. He was neutral.
He was normal.
It was almost only three weeks ago when she would have openly admitted that she hated him with a burning passion. Now he was a neutral being in her life. All this weird thinking of Malfoy reminded her of the book she was reading: The Dark Arts, Clandestine Rituals and Prophecies. Walking over to one of the study tables, she found it exactly where she had left it, underneath one of the table legs hoping that no one would find it. Grabbing the book, she returned to her seat. She crossed her legs and opened it to the page with the Abyssus Erigo ritual. She read it again and again, wondering why Malfoy had taken such an interest in it.
…The memory may resurface unknowingly as either visions or dreams to the chosen sixth… To preform the ritual, it requires three vials of blood; two of those will be from the blood of one chosen from every sixth generation…
She suddenly remembered. She didn't know why she hadn't taken notice before. Why she didn't ask him about it, or at least looked into it. Her memory was of when Malfoy collapsed! In their first meeting, he collapsed and when he woke he muttered something… Hermione read over the paragraph again. Tapping her finger on her lip, she couldn't quite remember. She read it again.
…one chosen from every sixth generation…
Those words… she knew it had something to do with those words. After a lot of thought, it came to her. "The heir, the chosen ones." She whispered. "That's what he said… But why?… Wait, don't tell me…he can't be…" Her words trailed off.
"Talkin' to yourself there, Hermione?" Asked Ron from his Transfiguration essay.
"Oh, no…no…" She said to him distractedly. Her friends worrying about her sanity were the least of her problems. She had her decathlon partner to think about. He couldn't actually be a part of that ritual, could he? Besides, there's a chance that this thing doesn't even exist. But when she thought about it, really, it all fit. He was having visions or dreams, he's of age – he's already seventeen and in the wizarding world, his age was enough, he comes from a really old pureblood family, and… She turned to Harry and Ron… And Trelawney was predicting a ritual. She may have been a fraud but there was a chance that Trelawney perhaps, on this very rare occasion, might be right.
Hermione rubbed her temples. This was too overwhelming. At this very moment, she chose to deny it until she asked Malfoy about it later. Hopefully he wouldn't snap at her or get angry. Things between them have been very good lately, considering their history. She snapped the book shut. She didn't want to think of Malfoy being one of the integral elements in raising hell. If he was, then she hoped to god he was unwilling to actually go through with it. Well, she decided, if there was one thing that could distract her mind, it was helping her friends with their homework.
"Hey Harry, Ron, need any help?" She asked as she got up and walked over to them looking cheery.
"I thought you'd never ask!" Ron exasperated.
"You're a life-saver Hermione." Harry smiled warmly.
"Anytime, you two, anytime." She smiled warmly. Though these two were hopeless, she always loved helping them distraction or no distraction.
Draco walked easily through the school, knowing that he would receive some relief in his father's reply. Although as much relief it would bring him, he could not help but dread if it were true. As he reached the Slytherin dungeons, it came as no surprise to him that no one was in the common room. Anxiously he paced in front of the fire. He knew he had just sent the owl, but he hoped that his father would reply very soon. He could have been there for hours pacing and still no reply. Resigning to the fact that he would not receive a reply any time soon, he withdrew to bed.
Opening the door to his dormitory, he was met with the deeply unpleasant and horrific – the word 'sounds' wouldn't even come close to it -sounds of Crabbe and Goyle's monstrous snoring. Only in the moonlight would one witness Draco's deepening scowl as he stepped back in disgust. "Oh god." He sighed as he reluctantly stepped into the room, his scowl deepened, as he had no choice but to close the door behind him. There's no sleeping tonight.
Indeed, when Draco woke that morning, he barely received sleep. Preforming a quick spell to make sure no one could see the bags under his eyes, he took to the showers and tried to drown out any sound the thunderous duo made.
An hour later, when he stepped into the Hall alone (Blaise was no where to be found), he felt a small hand grab his robe and snatch him away.
"What? Unhand me – oh – you." He said with a sense of familiarity as he realised it was Hermione who dragged him into a deserted corridor. She was developing a knack to drag him away to secretive places. She looked determined yet almost regretful. In utter seriousness, she spoke.
"I need to speak with you."
Another chapter gone, so, How about a review as a Christmas prezzie? Cheers – Deeh