DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter and all other characters and locations belong to J. K. Rowling.
Chapter Two -The Stolen Flute
In the midst of a terrible thunderstorm, the students of Hogwarts returned. Screaming and shrieking in mock fear, they leapt from the carriages and raced into the castle. Shaking rain off their long black cloaks, they proceeded toward the Great Hall amongst friends and housemates. A trail of mud marked the passing of many booted feet, marring the stone floors that had been carefully polished and shone for the new school year.
Pausing just inside the door, Harry glanced over his shoulder and watched as the sky was painted gold for a very brief moment. Shivering, he raised a hand and brushed droplets of rain from his limp black hair. Muttering under his breath, he slid his cloak off and draped it over his arm before slogging after his friends.
Sitting down on the bench next to Ron, he winced as his wet pants squished loudly. The redhead next to him grinned devilishly and reached under the table to pull his shoes off. Smirking, he tipped the shoe over and watched as muddy water began to create a puddle beneath them.
"Terrible weather." Dean commented, wielding a butter knife against Seamus's fork in pretend battle. Grinning in amusement, the surrounding Gryffindors cheered the duelists on. Their laughter and cheers drew the unwanted attention of Professor Snape, who prowled closer at the clinking and ringing of metal on metal
"How amusing." He snarled, a wave of his wand sending the weapons floating into his waiting hand. "Detention, the pair of you." He purred, black eyes sweeping over the seething lions as they stared angrily up at him. Turning his back on them, he continued on his way to the Head Table, claiming his place and sitting down silently.
"I think they just beat our second year record." Ron mused, elbowing Harry and nodding at the pouting pair sitting unhappily across from them. Sighing and shaking his head shamefully, he rested a hand over his heart. "I honestly believed that record would stand long after we had left this place."
Plastering a mournful look on his face, Harry wrapped an arm around Ron's shoulder. "There's always next year." He consoled playfully, shaking his head and wiping away an imaginary tear. "Plenty of time to set some new ones this year as well. Most accumulated time spent in the hospital wing, longest detention ever received, most chocolate frogs eaten in five minutes, first person in the history of Hogwarts to have to have their stomach pumped for eating too much chocolate, and the list goes on."
Sniffing, Ron sat up and puffed his chest out. "You're absolutely right, Harry. It's to early to give up." He stated, one fist slamming the table in emphasis.
"The sorting will be starting soon." Hermione whispered, offering the wizards sitting around her a threatening look as their banter quickly escalated in volume. Leaning forward, she beckoned Harry closer. "Well?"
Smiling sheepishly, he nodded and ran his fingers through his shaggy hair. "I sent Hedwig on the way here." He mumbled, shoving Ron playfully as the redhead elbowed him.
Squealing in excitement, Hermione sat back and clapped her hands. Her face was glowing with her eagerness over getting to study an ancient journal from Harry's family. "I hope it get's here soon." She whispered as Professor McGonagall led the first years forward for the sorting. Feet tapping the floor anxiously, she turned her attention to the sorting hat.
Ron raised an eyebrow and leaned closer to Harry. "What's she on about now?" He hissed in confusion, stopping to clap loudly as a young witch was placed in Gryffindor.
"You remember the letter I received earlier? Well I sent a reply requesting the journal be sent to me at once." Harry whispered back, hiding the fact he was talking by placing his elbows on the table and setting his face into his upturned palms. He watched Ron out of the corner of eye, waiting to see what the redhead thought of his actions.
Nodding, Ron grinned and slapped him on the back in a companionable way. "It's fine mate. As long as it doesn't start talking to you or making you do crazy stuff." He added as an afterthought.
The headmasters booming voice had everyone sitting up and watching him as he began the usual speech. Behind him, the stained glass windows were lit up at unexpected intervals. The lightening tracing fiery fingers across the sky. Thunder shook the castle on its foundation, making the panes of glass rattle in their frames. As always, the speech ran over the rules and guidelines of the castle. Informing everyone of the need for unity and friendship in the dark times that were upon them. Giving a final nod, he waved a hand and smiled as platters of food appeared on the trestle tables.
"You heard the man, Harry." Dean quipped, gesturing in the direction of the Slytherins with his spoon. "Go make nice with the snakes."
"I'll get right on that, Dean." Harry responded quickly, saluting the other wizard with his fork. "Right after I finish scrubbing every toilet in the castle." Laughing, the pair clicked their glasses of pumpkin juice together and joined in the conversations flowing around them. With the scrape of flatware on plates, friendships were renewed and summer tales told.
The Slytherin Common Room had emptied far too slowly in Draco's opinion. Snuggling deeper into his dark blue terrycloth robe, he ran a caressing hand over the box sitting on his lap. The wood was inky black, his name inscribed in silver across the lid. Sighing, he slid his slippered feet closer to the fire and wiggled his slowly warming toes. His fine pale hair had finally dried and been returned to its former glory, shining in the dancing light cast by the fires flames.
"It's not possible." Pansy snapped as she stalked into the room, shooting a killing glare over her shoulder at the dark haired wizard trailing after her. Rolling his eyes, Draco sat up and watched his friends approach him. His quirked eyebrow had the witch's face reddening as she tucked herself into a corner of the couch, pulling the emerald throw off the back and wrapping herself in it.
Huffing in annoyance, Blaise dropped into the chair across from the blond wizard. "It is too." He muttered under his breath, crossing his arms over the front of his red silk pajamas and sulking.
Shaking her head and snorting, Pansy began to braid her hair while staring into the fire. The absent movement of Draco's fingers drew her gaze to the box he cradled. "Are you going to play for us?" She drawled softly, tipping her head when his pale gaze snapped to hers. The distant look in his eyes told her that he hadn't been paying attention to the conversation occurring around him. "Your flute. Are you going to play?"
"I hadn't really planned on it." Draco muttered, one finger running back and forth along the wood. Glancing around the common room, he narrowed his eyes and peered into the shadows before sliding forward in his chair. A twitch of his fingers had both witch and wizard leaning forward nervously. Casting one last furtive look around, Draco cracked the lid on the box he held. Lying upon the bed of dark silk, a flute sat. Shining silver, it seemed to whisper to them. Telling silent tales of sweet music and past melodies.
Frowning, Blaise extended a hand to pick the instrument up. His roving fingers were slapped away and the box slammed closed. "I didn't say you could touch it." Draco hissed, a long fingered hand running atop the box as if to calm the instrument inside.
"Draco, we've both seen your flute before. I've even played it." Pansy said in confusion, brow drawn down as she peered at him. Tying the end of her braid off with a piece of ribbon, the witch rose from the couch and padded closer. Dropping to her knees at his slippered feet, she held her hands palm out and waited.
Draco froze as he looked down at his childhood friend. Reluctantly, he placed the box in her hands and sat back, fingers immediately interlocking as if to keep from snatching the case back. "Don't play it." He whispered, eyes anxiously glued on the box as the lid was flipped open and the instrument inside revealed again. "It's not exactly mine."
Raising his eyebrows, Blaise slipped off his chair and knelt beside Pansy. "What do you mean it's not yours?" He mumbled, eyes resting on the flute. He leaned closer and narrowed his eyes as Pansy carefully withdrew the instrument.
"I kind of took it from one of the rooms in the Manor." He muttered, ducking his head and cringing as Pansy and Blaise both jerked back. The flute was abandoned quickly, fingers pulled back and rubbed on silk clad thighs as they glared at Draco in horror.
"You took this from the Manor! You don't even know what it does and you took it?!" Pansy yelped, her voice rising dangerously with every word. Shaking her head furiously, she rose and set her hands on the arms of the chair Draco occupied. "This flute could be some dark artifact and you just picked it up and waltzed out of the Manor with it! What the hell were you thinking? Your father is going to kill you!" She shrieked, straightening and planting her hands on her hips. Still shaking her head in denial, she began to pace back and forth. Sinking her hands into her hair, she groaned and looked at the vaulted ceiling as if seeking divine intervention.
"It's really not that bad, Pansy." Blaise soothed, holding his hands up in a calming manner. Picking the flute case up between four fingers, he deposited it on a nearby coffee table then sat down on the floor. "Lucius probably hasn't even noticed it's missing. We'll just return it and everything will be fine."
"No." Draco growled as he stood up. Prowling forward, he scooped the box up and held it to his chest. Turning his burning eyes on the startled pair, he tapped one foot. "I found it and I'm keeping it. Besides, she wanted me to have it." He explained, face reddening in anger.
"You are not keeping that thing!" Pansy shrilled, one finger leveling at the box he held. Shaking her head, she continued to pace, muttering under her breath as she aimed a kick at the leg of the coffee table. "We have to take it back."
"Who wanted you to have it?" Blaise asked in confusion, chewing on his lower lip as he glanced back and forth between the pair. Raising a hand, he scratched the back of his head as he rose fluidly. "Let's discuss this rationally, like adults." Turning he moved to one of the study tables and sat down, pulling the chairs out on either side of him and patting the seats.
Pansy walked forward and sat down primly, slamming her elbows on the desk as soon as her bottom touched wood. "I don't think he should keep it." She grumbled, dropping her head into her cupped palms.
"Well I am." Draco stated loudly, stomping forward and sitting down gracefully. The box was set on the table before him, one hand resting atop it. His narrowed eyes were locked on Pansy, the fingers of his other hand clenched into a fist.
"Just explain everything to us, Draco." Blaise rebuked, placing his own hands palm down on the table. He tipped his head and nudged Pansy with his toe under the table when she grunted in disgust.
Sighing, Draco sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. "I kept hearing music at night. It was the saddest melody I'd ever heard." He reminisced, blue eyes glowing as he remembered. "So I followed it to this little room on the fourth floor. On the wall there was a white sheet draped over a portrait. When I pulled it down, there was this witch standing there playing a flute. She had hair as black as Potter's and her eyes were green."
"Why does your father have a portrait of a Potter hanging in his house?" Pansy asked, leaning forward in interest.
Shrugging his shoulders, Draco tossed his short hair and raised an eyebrow. "Maybe that's how he get's o-" He began; only to have his sentence cut off as Blaise yelped and slammed his knee into the underside of the table.
"Pansy!" The dark haired wizard groaned, sliding his chair back and leaning over his aching knee. Rubbing at the injury in hopes of lessening the pain, he narrowed his eyes at the witch. "What the hell was that for?"
Cringing, the blonde witch reached over and gave Blaise a consoling pat on the thigh. "I was aiming for Draco." She said between her teeth, glaring at the other wizard as if blaming him for her boyfriend's injury.
"Anyway, she played some little ditty and I played it back then she pointed me towards the table where I found this." Draco finished, tapping the box with a light hand. Sliding a hand over the latch, he flipped it open and dipped a hand under the instrument. His fingers glided along the small images tracing the metal, halting at the twining letters. "It has my initials on it." He pointed out, as if that would gain Pansy's acceptance.
Stilling, Blaise blinked before tipping his head. "You took it because it had your initials on it?" He repeated in disbelief, shrugging out from under Pansy's hands. Leaning over the table, he examined the engraved letters. "I'm pretty sure it doesn't stand for Draco Malfoy." He muttered dryly, reaching out and turning the instrument over so he could peer at the underside. Tiny dragons were posed along the metal. A pair were battling, their jaws opened in mid snap. Several others were flying, wings held in different positions. The carefully designed keys took his breath away. Dragon heads all with different markings and if one stared hard enough they could see the faintest shimmer of colour on their scales.
It was Pansy who broke the moment, fingers lightly caressing one of the keys. "This dragon." She murmured quietly, finger tapping the air above its gaping jaws. "It's an Egyptian Sandtongue. They're extinct. I don't think you should play this flute, Draco."
"Let's all just go to bed for now." Blaise mumbled, placing the flute back in the case and closing the lid. Pushing it closer to Draco, he shook his head as the blond's possessive hands wrapped around the wood. "I agree with Pansy, don't play that flute until we figure out what it does."
Rolling his eyes, Draco plodded towards his room. Waving a hand over his shoulder in silent farewell, he snuggled the box closer to his chest. He was going to play the flute the first chance he got and nothing was going to stop him.
Harry traipsed into the sixth year dorm quietly, his clothes had dried stiffly and he was itchy all over. Grimacing as he pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it onto the floor, he opened his trunk and dug through its contents. Tugging the small bag free that held his bathroom supplies, he plodded into the bathroom and got ready for bed. In the middle of brushing his teeth, he was joined by his dorm mates. All of them grumpily jockeying for a position in front of the mirrors.
Grumbling, the lot of them all paraded back into the dorm and claimed their beds. Harry opened the window above his desk and inhaled the night air, jerking back when a ball of white hurtled towards him. Scrambling out of the way, he allowed Hedwig to land on his desk, scattering papers and quills with the powerful strokes of her wings. Chuckling at his own fear, he slid the desk drawer open and pulled an old bag of owl treats free. He placed a handful on the desk at her taloned feet before carefully releasing the twine holding the narrow parcel to her leg.
He climbed into bed and drew the curtains closed, the distant rumble of thunder resonating through the night. Whispering Lumos, he set his wand aside and began to unwrap the package. Snapping the twine, he ran his tongue nervously over his lips as the small journal slid into his lap. Harry balled the paper up and dropped it over the side of his bed, hands shaking as they ran over the cover of the journal.
Closing his eyes, he set his hands and pulled. Emerald orbs popped open in shock when the book remained closed. Prying on the front, he gritted his teeth and glared at the cream coloured leather. It wouldn't open. Shaking his head in disbelief, he trailed a finger over the accented R gracing the cover. He supposed he'd just have to wait for Ron and Hermione to tell him how to open it. Sighing, he gave one last attempt before tucking it under his pillow and extinguishing his wands light. Curling up, he fell asleep with one hand resting on the journal.
XxXxX
It was dark out. The full moon floating overhead casting long shadows across the rutted road she rode down. The horse beneath her skittered nervously, ears pressed tight to his skull. In the distance, a flash of silver drew her eye. A brisk wind grabbed at her cloak and sent long dark hair swirling out in front of her. Shifting nervously in the saddle, she slid a hand down to where her wand was sheathed. The familiar press of wood had her urging the horse forward, ignoring the wind that grew stronger with every gust. In the distance a castle glowed softly, one of the towers seeming to move as she cantered steadily closer.
The sudden glint of metal before her was followed by the stallions pained squeal, he stumbled onward for a few steps before he sank to his knees. Pitching forward, she found herself pinned under the struggling animal. Gasping for breath, she dragged her arm from beneath his neck and waved her wand.
The limp stallion gave one last kick before stilling, the arrow buried in his chest pale in the moonlight. Levitating the dead weight, she rolled away and found herself on her knees, staring down at the dead horse. Her eyes rested on the arrow jutting from her mounts wide chest, the white wolf flashing fangs at her in a silent laugh. "Malfoy!" The name was hissed into the darkness angrily as blackness settled over her.
XxXxX
Harry sat up with a gasp, shaking as he peered anxiously around him. Finding himself safe within the dorms at Hogwarts, he glared down at the journal he clutched to his chest. Hands shaking slightly, he climbed from the bed and looked out into the night. Seeing nothing, he walked quietly to the end of his bed and opened his trunk. The journal was tossed recklessly into the melee and the lid slammed shut.
Placing a locking spell on the trunk, he got back into bed and lay down. Running a hand over his scar, he frowned in confusion when he found it cool to the touch. If not Voldemort, then who? Staring up into the darkness of his canopy, he waited for sleep to once again settle upon him.
Draco sat up with a gasp in his private room, the hiss of hatred that was his last name reverberating through his ears. Wiping the sweat off his face with a shaking hand, he glanced at the flute case half buried under his pillow. Narrowing his eyes, he slid it out and opened the lid slowly. The flute lay innocent in its silver coated perfection; the dying flames of the fire making it seem copper in places. Shaking his head ruefully, he closed the lid and settled back down. The wooden box pushed back under his pillow without thought. Staring at the canopy, he shivered at the memory of the dream. The Malfoy family hadn't used the white wolf in centuries. He shut his eyes and allowed himself to drift, pressing the images from the dream away in hopes of getting another few hours of sleep. Still, the fanged smile haunted him for the rest of the night.
A/N: Thank you to everyone who took the time to read and review.
Iredesent - lol, so many questions and ideas! The contents of the vault may or may not come into play and the DM shall be explained later.
fragonknight01 - You're kinda close but still kinda far away. lol, hang onto your plot bunny cause you'll find its probably quite different from the way this story is going to unravel.
violet7ameythst - Eventually, but remember Draco dosen't know about Raveana or the dragons.
SaphirePhoenix - Maybe as revenge against Reginald? He kept the flute locked away unplayed for so long, maybe she just wants to hear her flute call again? Maybe she's setting Draco up for a painful death? Can't tell you cause it would ruin the plot.
FairyQilan - lol, another nightowl? I'm the same way, up reading and writing into the wee hours of the morning. Glad you're enjoying the fic so far.
The Earth Mystic - When one really thinks about it, the feelings between the Malfoys and Potters is never really revealed, nor is the way they became rich. I found a way to work both into my story.