The world slowed down. The concern of another human so close to him vanished. The tension in his shoulders eased.
The elf had given him a much stronger version of the potion that he reserved for full out panic attacks. The little shit. It was hilarious.
When he had time to analyze the situation later with a clear head - he would recall that his laughter sounded far too much like Bella's after a good crucio from the Dark Lord. He would also recognize the looks of confusion and concern from all humans present. His father would have slaughtered a house elf for making him look like a fool. But this only made Draco laugh more.
Draco raised a hand and with a snap the wards went up. All the wizards flinched as they felt the magic too. Good. The action came out as being more powerful than he thought it would.
"Thank you for checking on me, but I think it is time for you to leave," he laced etiquette ingrained in him with sharp venom, but the edge was lost in his laughter. It was still a clear directive that they were to leave.
"We need to check your core, you were bleeding from your eyes," Potter said.
"Get out of my house, Potter." Perhaps it would have been more threatening if he wasn't laughing between the words. However instead of the narrowed gaze at the rudeness, the man looked more alarmed.
Potter jumped from his seat and drew his wand. Except the wand didn't point at Draco, instead it pointed at the tiger standing at the door. In its jaws a package of chisels. The feline ignored the wizards and strode into the room, head held high.
"My goodness," Flitwick squeaked.
Potter's mouth was open, and Severus looked about ready to back into the corner of the room. His wand was drawn too.
Even with dragons being renditions of mythical creatures, they were miniature in comparison to Antares. Not to mention the hair looked real, up to a point. Each thin strand moved like true hair, like the creature was constantly walking against the wind. Too much so, there was no wind. The narcissist tiger had insisted that he liked feeling majestic when he walked and no, he'd rather be larger than have 'accurate hair.' Unlike most of his creations, he'd woken Antares the second his eyes and nose had been set, merely to get the voice right. Who would have thought hawthorn would be so picky and stubborn about the depth and resonation of its tone, not to mention how many stripes it had, its claw length, and its hair…
Draco wouldn't be waking them up early ever again.
Antares dropped the chisels on Draco's lap. "Jiffy said Lord Goyle will not leave until Roxin is fixed."
"Brilliant, oh my - look this one speaks," Flitwick said with awe.
Antares flicked an ear in the direction of the noise before resting its head on Draco's knee.
Draco ran a hand over the ear, much to his own regret — he really was too lenient with the nonchalant attitude he got from the cat. He'd always wanted a cat as a familiar. He'd gone a bit too far and it showed. After another scratch, he got to work. He shifted, pulling the broken wooden pieces from his pocket.
The cat jumped upon the couch to look over Draco's shoulder at the toy. Solstice's chirped and the cat seemed to give a nod. "We both think you should attach the head back to the neck."
No, they did not just attempt to give him advice. "Thank you for that blissful insight. I was going to attach it to the right arm. I thought that is where it belonged."
The tiny dragon on his shoulder was surprisingly bright enough to pick up on the sarcasm. It squeaked at the reprimand and nipped at his face. The cat only huffed. "Can never tell with wizards."
Really? It only knew Greg and him. Ah, Draco watched the way it glanced at the others in the room, it was just trying to impress the company. Silly thing. Draco gave another laugh, more controlled than before.
He used one of the chisels to smooth over the worst of the cracks. The neck of this dragon just kept getting shorter and shorter. He raised the two pieces to his lips when he was done. Closing his eyes, he could feel the creature - no utterance of a spell or wand needed. It seemed to be resting, just below the surface of consciousness. To bring it forth, its magic needed to be reconnected. Now all that it required for waking was to be alerted, he called its name, "Roxin."
It took flight from his grasp - the dark walnut wood turning a polka-dot pink and white, eyes flashing green. It squeaked, not even having a chirp, and backflipped in the air.
The dragons on the ceiling immediately reacted to the noise, even Solstice. They began to swoop at it. Grand. Absolute chaos. Again.
Before Draco could summon his wand and stun them, Antares let out a roar. Being so close to Antares, Draco felt his eardrums would burst.
The dragons from the ballroom panicked, and they did their best to get out of the room quickly. Two of the more stupid ones went through a window. Roxin however, hovered. Then he did a chirp while backflipping. Then he hovered, chirped and backflipped again.
Draco glanced down at the tiger, but it made no translation.
Roxin repeated the action. Waiting a moment and then did it again. And again.
"Do I need to give Roxin a voice?"
The tiger's ears went back and teeth showed. "You never let me have any fun. I bet he would do it for hours. And if you give him a tongue, I'll walk into a lit furnace. You'd likely soon follow suit. He's a terrible conversationalist."
Roxin squeaked with indignation hovering near the tiger's face as it appeared to reprimand him, its tail swinging wildly in the process.
The tiger rolled its eyes.
"Brilliant, so extraordinary. The way they interact with each other… Did you make them all, Draco?" Filius asked.
"The ones you have seen, yes. Several of my ancestors' creations are also around the manor, although they are in their still form. Like the ballroom dragons this morning."
"It's like they have minds of their own," Potter said, eyeing the cat with distrust but putting away his wand.
"That would be why they are referred to as intellectual animations. They can learn from external stimuli. While there is no actual brain matter, when their magic separates from the crafter it takes on a property like that of a mind," Draco said.
"Fascinating…" Potter said with sarcasm and looked even more wary.
Flitwick on the other hand left the chair and moved to the giant feline. He reached out a tentative hand, Antares pressed himself against it. "It feels real, is this one made out of wood as well?"
"Yes, Antares is made of hawthorn."
"The others?" Flitwick asked, his voice going higher with excitement.
"The small dragons are made of birch and cedar. Roxin is walnut, and Vega — whom you've yet to meet is made of sapele."
"Do the personalities tend to be affected by the choice in wood?" The professor was now petting the cat with a passion and the cat almost tipped the man over as it leaned against the touch. A loud purr filled the room.
Draco almost smiled, happy to share the information with someone so interested. In another life, Draco liked to think he would have made an excellent Ravenclaw. "In a way, you'll see it more with the smaller dragons. The birches are not as friendly as the cedar. However, there are exceptions to the rule, the smarter the creature." Solstice was exceptionally friendly for being a birch.
"You don't need a wand to bring them to life?" Flitwick held the tiger's head up to take a close look at the eyes.
"No, not anymore."
"How do they get their color, is it a potion or a- "
Severus cleared his throat and Filius closed his mouth looking sheepish.
Greg came through the door then - wand drawn. It didn't take him long to assess the situation. "What's going on with the wards? Why are you all still here? I heard Antares roaring…"
"Miss Granger flagged us down from a window as we inspected the marble, seeing as she cannot leave the house. She then searched and directed us to Draco's location. Draco took a potion, an antidepressant. He's brought back up the wards and brought a dragon to life. A foolish and childish thing to do when you've stretched your limits. He should probably have his core checked before he does any more damage," Severus said, his eyes gleaming in anger.
"Antidepressant?"
Draco gave a laugh.
Greg tilted his head, "Just downed a potion in a little blue glass bottle?"
"Yes," Severus said.
"The laughter will go away in a few more minutes. It's not an antidepressant, just a side-effect. It can be worse if he hasn't had food. Which I assume he hasn't," Greg informed them.
Severus' eyes narrowed. "A bit of a heads up would not be amiss."
"You think his core is damaged?" Greg asked, his gaze roamed over Draco – stopping on the blood stains on the clothes.
"He was bleeding from his nose and eyes," Potter said, giving a sigh. "Something is obviously wrong."
"That's a bit disconcerting." Greg said, his brows furling. "Are you feeling alright?"
"I feel fine."
The words seemed to trigger something. Greg's gaze hardened. "Forget I asked. I'll check his core."
Draco wanted to resist but with the look Greg gave him, knew the man would not relent about it. The man would likely get his wife involved. Draco really didn't want the guilt trip from the Hufflepuff, no doubt she'd get her way. She always got her way. Thus, Draco consented in letting his friend cast the spell. The spell required trust and openness between the caster and receiver. It also left the displayer of the core in a vulnerable state. There was no human he trusted more than Greg.
Greg raised a brow, a double question - was he sure he wanted it checked in front of everyone?
There was one other aspect of the spell. The visibility into the last casted magic. Draco gave a shrug. He hadn't casted dark magic since the war.
Greg saw the subtle response, then performed the spell.
Draco hadn't seen his core since his childhood. He didn't know what he'd been expecting, but it wasn't the happy yellow of cheering charms he'd once had. Instead blotches of green and gray lines like tangled roots grew out from the center, but what was stranger was the fuzzy like edges. Usually, cores were crystal cut and circular.
Filius discarded the dragon on the armrest and hopped down to take a closer look. "I don't understand, there is nothing wrong with the size - you'd see it like a dot if his core was struggling. Why are the edges like that? Not sure I've ever seen lines like this either."
The professors both leaned in closer.
Draco was glad Jiffy had given him the potion. Without it, he would likely already be throwing up with the amount of panic this situation would cause him. Now however he was content just watching them discuss what was wrong with his core. After several minutes, hearing the theories was beginning to become boring.
"As exciting as this is." Everything went quiet. "There is no problem with my core."
At their silence, at the silence of the room — not even a word from Antares asking what the theories meant — He raised his eyes from his core. They were gone — everyone. The fire in the fireplace was white not red. The panic returned, full blast. The potion, it was like he hadn't taken it. His mind raced.
He attempted to get up and run, but it was as if he were frozen. His eyes searched, until finally they landed on her.
She was standing in the doorway, gray eyes watching him.
He hadn't had time to process her the first time. But he knew that he couldn't be frozen like this. He would regret it for eternity.
"I'm sorry." It felt as if his throat was sore from weeks of dragon pox. "I am so sorry." It hurt worse than dragon pox. But it was one of the few apologies in his life he meant wholeheartedly. It wasn't like the apology could amend anything though. But what else could he do? "I am-"
"Shh - I know," she spoke, her voice like the brush of grass on a spring day against his bare feet.
Her eyes looked sad. She walked closer to him, sitting on the arm of the couch. "I know." She lowered her head as if to kiss his cheek when her eyes grew wide. Worlds seemed to merge.
The white fire became red. A blur of orange hair shot past him and at her as she scrambled away. Antares had launched at the girl, ivory teeth flashing.
The girl fled, Antares at her heels.
He struggled to rise and give chase, to stop Antares. But then there were hands upon him.
"His eyes are black," Potter yelled in alarm.
"What medication is he on?" Severus demanded.
Greg stuttered, "This isn't his medication, he's never had any issues like this!"
"They are grey again," Severus said.
"Get your hands off," Draco tried to command, but blood seemed to come from his mouth instead of words. His magic reacted to his will, blowing them all back. He drew his wand, turning to the doorway only to stop at the sight.
Antares frozen in chase, jaws open like how it had landed. The tiger was no longer orange, but hawthorn gold.
Draco wasted no time in grabbing onto the feline's neck and forcing him awake with magic. The form came to life growling and spitting. "How dare you betray us! You foolish little creatures, I will slay-"
He tightened his grip on the cat and it looked at him finally. The cat blinked, then licked at Draco's face, at the blood from his mouth. "She ran to the ballroom, the little ones blocked me." His ears tilted back, "I am sorry."
It was real. Unless his madness seeped into the creations he made. He pressed his face against the tiger's.
He closed his eyes. His entire body was shaking. The tiger was shaking too.
"So… the astral plane."
Draco looked up at his godfather. The others were still attempting to sit up, but Severus was already on his feet. He walked several steps to him before kneeling again.
Draco attempted to move out of his reach, but the man blotted at his face with a summoned wet rag. Blood. Blood from his eyes, and from his nose and from his mouth.
Draco attempted to reach out and take the cloth from him, but the man brushed his trembling hand aside. At least the feeling of the potion was back, everything happening was starting to dull around the edges.
Severus continued, "It makes sense. He was using powerful magic on a key line area. This mansion would be the prime location for attempting contact with the astral plane. And as Draco has mentioned before, he is blood bonded to the manor which is connected to the key lines."
"He wasn't attempting a connection just now."
"If you were listening, Filius, the tiger, mentioned something from the other side. An attempt made in the other direction," Severus said.
"Why wouldn't he have told us?" Potter questioned.
"Would you have believed him?" Severus asked.
"But-"
"Even with the tiger's reaction, I would have had a hard time believing him." His godfather continued to wash the blood off his face. "Had we not been inspecting his core when it occurred, I'm afraid I would have thought him mad."
Draco wanted to ask but feared speaking; he could still taste blood.
Severus focused on him with a narrowed gaze. "I would give you something, but I have no idea what you took earlier."
Draco opened his mouth, but instead of words he coughed - he looked at the sleeve he had coughed into. Blood, more blood.
"Is it normal, this astral thing?" Potter asked.
"No, but the effects are well known. Very few survive such contacts with the plane. But the bodies show the same physical issues. Blood from the eyes, nose, ears and mouth."
Draco raised a hand to his ear and pulled it away, blood too.
"You didn't have blood on your nose last time, or mouth for that matter." Severus started on his left ear.
"Yes, we would have suspected something else entirely had your nose been bleeding before. We still would not have come to this conclusion; it was a good thing we inspected your core," Filius said, finally on his feet. He raised his wand and casted a complex spell.
Draco could feel less wetness on his face. The man had cleaned the area of blood.
Again, the theories were starting, but Draco could only focus on what had happened. The astral plane, the plane between life, death and time. He'd had to write an essay in his Divination NEWT, it was Estragon's fifth theory of prophecies that all diviners could unconsciously access the astral plane for information but their conscious attempt to process the result ended up as convoluted ambiguous prophecies.
Estragon merely had a theory on the astral plane in its relation to divination. The astral plane's existence was known and proven fact - its use or implication was still unknown. But it meant he wasn't going mad.
She had been real. What he had seen before had been real. Alive? Obviously not, but… She wasn't dead. No, not that either. He had to see her. He had to. She was just down the hall, this entire time he could have…
The revelation hit him hard. In the next moment, he attempted to stand.
"Sit down, Draco. You are in no condition to move about." Severus tightened his grip.
Draco pulled away. He was standing, barely, but he was standing. He had to. He could not simply let this rest.
He cleared his throat as best as he could, swallowing blood. "Jiffy, please escort the guests out." He felt dizzy and off balance, but he would not allow that to stop him.
The house elf appeared, and looked ready to protest, so Draco dropped the kindness and gave a direct order. "Escort them out."
"You are out of your mind if you think we will leave you in the state you are in," Severus said, attempting to grab him again.
"I'm afraid you are in my house and the law is that if I ask you to leave you must do so," Draco snarled as he turned his back to them, intending to go to the ballroom.
He should have known better, for a Gryffindor, Potter was good at shooting people in the back.
