DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter and all other characters and locations belong to J. K. Rowling.
Chapter Seven - A Sandtongue Dragon
Harry pounded up the stairs toward Gryffindor Tower, his cloak hanging loosely around his shoulders. His eyes were wide as he tossed a look over his shoulder, searching the shadows for the snarling form of a dragon. Panting, he halted in front of the Fat Lady and leaned one hand against the ornate frame. The portrait mumbled in her sleep, shifting on the chair she sat in. Rolling his eyes, Harry rapped hard on the edge of the frame, grimacing when the Fat Lady bolted upright in her chair with a surprised snort.
"Phoenix Rising." He croaked, shaking his hands anxiously at his sides and bouncing on the balls of his feet. Sighing with relief as the portrait swung open, he clambered into the Common Room and dashed for the stairs leading to his dorm.
The Tower was silent as he quietly crept down the short hall into the room he shared with the other sixth year boys. Biting his lip as the door squeaked behind him, he closed his eyes in pleasure and leaned against the cool wood. He ran his hands over his face as he padded towards his bed, collapsing on the warm blankets and moaning in delight. Curling himself into a ball atop the duvet, he tucked his hands between his knees and stared blankly at the curtains of Ron's bed.
He could still hear the shrill cry of the dragon amid the crashing and screaming of breaking glass. The animal had been magnificent, its scales gleaming a pale gold under the moon's rays. It was like the dragon was looking for something. The way it had called softly and waited as if someone or something was going to answer. Filch had certainly been afraid of the pony sized animal, the sounds of his retreat heard over the dragon's rumbles. He shivered as he remembered how close he'd been to the animal. The warmth rolling off its scaled body had been enough to redden his cheeks. Rising, he moved to change into his pajamas. His fingers froze on the lid of his trunk as he peered into its shadowed interior.
He tipped his head back and groaned loudly, the palm of his right hand connecting firmly with his forehead. Malfoy had the journal. In the melee and aftermath, he'd forgotten to reclaim the book from the blond.
"Merlin's balls." He grumbled, dropping to sit on the floor in front of the wooden chest. Resting his head on the wood, he ran his hands along the trunk and wondered what it would take to get the book back. Malfoy had seemed quite determined to keep it. His reaction to the music puzzling. It had been like he'd recognized it from somewhere. "Impossible."
Shaking his head, Harry finished changing and crawled into bed. He'd just have to wait and discuss the entire issue with Hermione and Ron tomorrow. While he was at it he'd try and figure out what it would cost to get his journal back. Snuggling into his pillow, he closed his eyes and dreamed of dragons.
XxXxX
Draco entered the Slytherin Common Room calmly, swishing his cloak aside as he brushed past two snogging seventh years. Shaking his head and snorting over there public display, he stalked up the stairs into the dorms of the sixth years. He burst through the door and smiled with pleasure as the wood connected loudly with one of the dungeons stone walls. Standing in the doorway, he cleared his throat and waited patiently to be acknowledged.
"Draco! Whatever it is you want can wait for tomorrow!" Blaise snarled sleepily, not bothering to push the curtains shielding his bed out of the way. He rolled his eyes as the thud of boots approached his bed, groaning when the blond swept the long swathes of fabric back and crawled onto the bed. "Draco," he moaned, flopping onto his back and raising one hand to shield his eyes from the glow cast by the wand jammed into his face.
"Get up, Blaise. This is important." Draco stated quietly, reaching behind him and drawing the hanging curtains back into place. Frowning as the dark haired boy grumbled under his breath, he delved into his pocket and slipped the journal free. "Look at this."
Moaning, Blaise opened one eye and peered doubtfully at the book jammed under his nose. "Do you know what time it is?" He asked slowly, dragging at the blankets that had been pulled down under the blond's weight. Sighing when Draco merely raised an eyebrow at his rhetorical question, he sat up and grabbed the cream coloured book.
"It's late, or early depending on which way you want to look at it." The blond replied, sliding the flute free of his pocket and settling it on his lap. His fingers caressed the keys as he watched his friend examine the cover of the journal. Taking in the scripted R and the etchings in the corner.
Blaise trailed a finger along the book's spine, shivering as a tingle leapt up to nibble at the digit. Drawing back, he rubbed his fingers together and looked at the book with a new light in his tired eyes. "This journal is magic." He murmured, pulling gently at the cover. "Where did you find it?" Truthfully, he really didn't want to know where Draco had found the book. After the flute incident, things could only get worse.
"The Music Room. You know, the one on the opposite side of the castle on the fifth floor? It was on the piano ledge when I walked in. All the music in it. . . I've heard it before. The witch from the painting was playing one of the first songs I tried." Draco hissed in excitement, his hands clenched around the flute, fingers sliding restlessly over the engraved keys. "Then Potter appeared and said it was his."
"Potty was in the Music Room?" Blaise asked, eyebrows arching in amusement. Shaking his head, he stared down at the journal.
"Pay attention, Blaise." Draco demanded, huffing in annoyance when his words failed to illicit a response from the other wizard. "There was a dragon, it came through the window. Crashed right through the glass and stood there." His voice had softened, eyes glowing in remembrance of the beauty and grace the animal had burned with.
"A dragon? You're saying there was a dragon in the castle? Here? And no one else saw it?" Blaise questioned, eyes narrowed as he leaned closer and examined the blond's robes for signs of a struggle. He reached out and ran a finger over a gash in the cloth of Draco's cloak, grimacing when the tear lengthened under his touch. "Did Potter hit you by chance?"
Rolling his eyes, Draco reached out and snatched the journal back. "Yes, but that was before the dragon arrived. Really, Blaise, you should learn to listen better." Holding the book with the cover facing the other wizard, he brandished it in warning. "The dragon was a Sandtongue. I recognized it from the etching on the flute. Its head perfectly matched the image on this key." He said, finger tapping the key that Pansy had identified days ago.
"The Sandtongue is a Mage Dragon, Draco. They're extinct." Blaise reminded, glancing back and forth between the flute and the book. He raised a hand and rubbed the back of his neck. Something was making sense. The distinct feeling that he should know what was going on danced around his mind as he looked at the head of the engraved Sandtongue. Its eyes glowed and the dark horns on its short muzzle made the creature seem all the more dangerous.
"They can't be extinct if I saw one, Blaise." The duh wasn't spoken but clearly implied by the look on the blond's face. Draco's fingers flexed on the journal, brushing the vine like etchings curling around one of the corners. The small leaves and flowers appeared natural, yet something shiny was caught by wand light before vanishing just as quickly.
"And you're sure Potter didn't hex you?" He questioned carefully, looking slowly back and forth between the journal and the flute. The letter R screamed at him silently. In the recesses of his mind, a name was whispered and repeated, yet went unacknowledged.
"If anything he saved me." Draco grumbled in distaste, bottom lip sticking out as he recalled the moment the dragon had ran the edge of its nose along the back of his curled fingers. His pale eyes narrowed as he remembered the way the dragon had breathed in over the hunk of wood that had collided with the wall. "It was like it recognized his scent." He murmured in wonder, chin tipping back as he peered up into the darkened canopy.
"You lost me again." Blaise said, he shook his head when the blond failed to return mentally, so obviously lost within his own thoughts.
"Never mind." Draco mumbled, settling the journal down on his folded legs and running his fingers through his already mussed hair. The sudden bite of pain running up one of his fingers had him gasping and jerking his hand out from behind his head. Blood ran from a gash on his index finger, small drops slowly sliding over his white skin.
"You must have gotten glass in your hair." Blaise hissed, grabbing Draco's hand and examining the small cut. A flash of pale green light had him looking down. Eyes widening as he saw the book glow a fiery red before fading to its former creamy colour. "Blood Bound. This journal is Blood Bound."
Draco shook his injured finger before wrapping the edge of his cloak around the cut. He peered at the journal sitting quietly in his lap, several drops of dried blood resting upon the cover. "Blood Bound? So that's why Potter could open it and I couldn't." He said loudly, glaring angrily at the book. Snorting over their discovery, he swiped his fingers over the dots of dried blood, smearing them further over the leather. Sighing, he allowed Blaise to check his hair for more glass before crawling between the curtains and heading for the exit.
"Maybe you should give the journal back to Potter." Blaise suggested, peeking between his curtains as Draco sauntered slowly from the dorm room. "I mean, if the dragon is after the journal, it'll only make our lives better if Potter gets eaten."
Draco paused in the doorway, turning around and posing neatly. The journal thudded against his thigh as he smirked in triumph at the other wizard. "When was the last time you saw a dragon crawling around dungeons?" He asked sweetly, he wiggled his fingers goodbye as he turned around and glided from the room, slamming the door behind him.
Dropping back onto the bed, Blaise ran his fingers through his hair. "Seconds ago, and it didn't run at the first signs of trouble." Grumbling, he rolled over and buried his face in his pillow. Draco's newest find and fight troubling him deeply. Somewhere in his mind, he knew he should have fit the pieces together by now.
XxXxX
The Gryffindor Common Room was quiet as the sun stretched over the Forbidden Forest. Most of the students were already down in the Great Hall eating breakfast, and those that weren't were probably planning on making a dash for class when the warning bells went off.
Harry tapped one of his toes nervously on the floor and looked back and forth between Hermione and Ron. The pair sat side by side on one of the couches, eyebrows raised in disbelief over the tale they had just been told. "So?" He asked, having grown tired of staring at their blank faces.
"There was a dragon in the castle?" Hermione repeated, one of her hands gliding restlessly over the cover of a text book sitting in her lap.
"Yes, a little dragon but a dragon none the less." He repeated for what seemed like the third time. He raised his hands and ran his fingers through his hair, sighing when Ron exchanged an uncertain look with Hermione.
"Malfoy didn't happen to hit you, did he?" Ron asked with narrowed eyes, his face reddened when Harry groaned and dropped into the chair behind him.
"Malfoy and I were fighting before the dragon arrived." Harry grit out slowly, hands held out before him as if he wanted to shake the information into the redhead's head.
Hermione sat back and chewed her lip, watching as the pair fought over whether or not Harry's dragon was due to a blow to the head from the Slytherin Prince. Her fingers twisted and tugged at the hem of the shirt she wore as her mind chased the facts around in a circle. "Malfoy was playing a flute?" She broke out suddenly, interrupting the beginnings of a loud debate on whether Malfoy could hit Harry hard enough to actually cause him brain damage.
"Yes, a silver one. He seemed to recognize the music in the journal too." He internally groaned as he remembered the blond had his ancestor's journal. His only happy thought that the book could only be opened with his blood. The look on Hermione's face was confusing. As if she had finished a puzzle but found it didn't quite match the picture on the box.
"Ron, did you bring that book that I gave you for your birthday?" Hermione asked sharply, her narrowed eyes jerking from the raven-haired wizard to the redhead.
Ron's face reddened and he dropped his gaze to stare at the toes of his boots. "Uh, sure. I was going to read it in my spare time." He lied neatly, grinning as the witch sighed and shook her head at his response.
"Go and get it, please." Hermione said, her gaze turning back to Harry. She gave him a tight-lipped smile and curled her hands into fists. The pair sat silently, neither saying anything as they waited for Ron to return.
When the redhead came puffing back into the room moments later, he found Hermione and Harry staring at hin intently, neither speaking. "Sorry, it was under some magazines at the bottom of my trunk." He muttered, offering the book to Hermione but handing it to Harry when the brown hair witch indicated she didn't want to see it.
Harry accepted the book and looked at the cover before beginning to turn the pages. Introductory chapters spoke about the history and place of dragons within wizarding society. The power and respect they had earned through their violent behaviour and murderous rampages. Flipping quickly, he looked at Hermione who was staring patiently at the book in his hands. He stopped in mid turn and smoothed a hand over the page he had opened. Small pictures of dragons were lined neatly across the paper, words recorded neatly below the still images.
"Do you see anything similar to the dragon that was in the Music Room?" Hermione questioned, leaning further over the book and eyeing the images curiously.
Harry held the book closer to his face and searched each image carefully. Trying to recall each detail of the music room dragon without getting caught up in the beauty and elegance of the dragons portrayed in the book.
His eyes landed on one image and stayed there. The dragon was smaller then most of those shown, its wings arched and head lowered while small fangs glittered as it hissed at an invisible foe. The scales along its body were a deep gold, fading to brown before turning completely black. "This one." He whispered, finger tapping the image.
Ron dragged the book into his own lap and stared at the picture. His lips moved as he read the creatures breed before flipping to the index. The whirl and slap of pages striking against each other was the only sound as the three sat quietly. "The Sandtongue. An Egyptian Mage Dragon."
Hermione hissed softly, eyes drifting closed for a moment before they popped back open. Standing quickly, she gathered her stuff and looked back and forth between Harry and Ron. "I have to go to the library and research something. Don't be late for class." She reminded them over her shoulder, already half way out the portrait hole.
Harry narrowed his eyes as he watched his friend retreat. She knew something and hadn't told them. Sighing loudly, he turned back to Ron and gestured for him to continue reading the passage. His eyes moved to the still photo on the upper half of the page. Five dragons all glared at the photographer, each holding their wings in a threatening position. The arch of their slender tails and the hooks on the end of their muzzle a clear warning of the damage they could do if they felt they were in danger.
"The Sandtongue Dragon generally lived in small clans or groups consisting of anywhere between ten and twenty-three adults. They were the smallest breed of the Mage Dragon, never getting any taller then a small horse. Their gold scales were one of their greatest protective features, allowing them to vanish in the desert but making them easily visible in the sky. Home ranges were extensive and often fought over by the dominant males. The main indicators of the dominant pair within a clan were the horns or hooks on their muzzles. The longer and darker the horn, the more powerful the dragon. Studies found that the Sandtongue had a longer then usual tongue which was coated in a poisonous saliva. This saliva was used when fighting off larger dragons or predators attempting to rob the nursery." Ron nodded in approval of the last part, glancing at Harry with a raised eyebrow. "Not exactly something you wanna run into in the dark, is it?
Harry grinned and shook his head in agreement before turning his attention back to the picture. The dragon had indeed been a Sandtongue. The colouring and size alone was enough proof of that but if all the Mages were extinct, how could this one have managed to break a window in the music room? Rubbing his forehead against the headache he felt coming on, he grabbed his school bag and rolled his eyes at Ron. The redhead looked at the clock hanging on the wall before grumbling under his breath and picking up his own bag. Lost in their thoughts, they headed off to class.
A/N: Thanks to everyone who took the time to read and review. Next chapter. . . well let's just say it's gonna be a confusing ball of clues hastily tied together which shall lead to the truth of the journal and the name of the flute. HAPPY HOLIDAYS EVERYONE!!
fragonknight01 - lol, you never know. Draco might wanna keep the journal just to rub it in Harry's face every now and then.
Kasmo - Hopefully I manage to answer all your questions in one shot. Raveana's green eyes will be explained in a future chapter so I won't be showing that card yet nor will I say what Raveana's exact intentions are. Partly because I haven't decided yet and partly because I want it to be a surprise. The dreams do come from Raveana, maybe not necessarily by choice but due to the appearance and proximity of the journal and the flute. Draco's awakening and calling of the Mage Dragons was unintentional but they answered anyway. This may have been because it was the first time the flute was played so well in so long or merely because it was simply time. I think the Dragons will recognize both wizards when the time comes.