DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter and all other characters and locations belong to J. K. Rowling.
Chapter Twenty-Three - The Keeping of Dragons
Harry stood upon the Quidditch pitch, the sun warm upon his back. A soft wind swept around him, sliding gentle fingers through his hair and dragging his dark cloak against his legs. Before him, the length of the pitch stood empty, the neatly trimmed grasses pure and gleaming with dew. Raising a hand to scratch the side of his head, he twisted and froze. His brow drew down in confusion as he stared at the rippling cloth of the Ravenclaw stands, the blue and black material fluttering gently. Glancing slowly around, he scanned the pitch in search of the Mage Dragons, stilling completely when his gaze landed on Raveana. He turned to face the witch, waiting patiently for her to arrive at his side.
"You have need of me," the raven-haired witch stated as she strode across the grass toward him. She tipped her head back and glanced skyward as she glided forward, one small hand lifting to shield her eyes. Her skirts swirled around her legs, allowing him to see the dainty black boots she wore as well as the silver hilt of the dagger tucked into the leather.
Harry bit his lip and raised his chin to peer at the sky, hands balling into fists as he considered her words. Nodding slowly, he dropped his gaze back to her. "I suppose I do." He admitted reluctantly.
Raveana lowered her chin slowly, locking eyes with him. A small smile curved her lips and she bobbed her head lightly, as if she had known the answer all along. "I, Raveana, have not the power or strength you will require to complete your task. You must look elsewhere for that aid, young Harry."
"But-" Harry began, only to snap his mouth shut when the witch lifted a hand gracefully and arched a dark eyebrow. Frowning, he clamped his lips together and glowered at her, hands balling into fists upon his hips. His eyes followed the slow movement of her index finger, widening when they landed on the dragon standing silently behind him.
"I am merely a fragment of a memory, a piece of the past brought alive in your mind." Raveana whispered, walking toward the massive red Mage with a hand outstretched. She murmured something quietly to the dragon, her splayed fingers smoothing over his silky scales in a loving gesture. Giving the beast one last caress, she turned and paced toward him, halting when her skirts slapped against his legs.
Harry stared into her shimmering emerald eyes; close enough to see the small bubbles of blue that rose within the orbs. "What can I do? How can I protect them when I already have the entire fate of the wizarding world resting on my shoulders? " He demanded in frustration, clenching his jaw as he waited for her to respond.
"The knowledge you need lays at your fingertips, all you need to do is reach out and grab it." Smiling sweetly, Raveana reached out and touched a cool fingertip to his cheek before taking a slow step backwards. "Great power awaits, you must only look for it and it will find you. When you feel weak, reach for the dragon, he has the strength to carry you through even the worst of battles." Bowing her head in a silent goodbye, she turned and began to walk away, hair and cloak whipping in the wind.
"Aren't you going to push me off a cliff?" Harry hollered at her back, stomping a few steps after her retreating form. Shaking his head over the tangle of riddles and bullshit she'd just fed him, he narrowed his eyes and cursed angrily. Seconds after the words had left his mouth, the earth beneath his feet opened and he found himself falling toward a pool of dark water.
XxXxX
Harry sat up with a gasp, the journal that had been resting upon his chest sliding onto his lap and falling open. Lifting a hand, he rubbed his face and glanced up at the sky, finding the expanse a pale blue. Yawning widely, he shifted and picked the leather journal up, peering at the book as if it held the answer to all his problems. Shaking his head, he snorted loudly before raising a hand and raking his fingers through his hair.
"Good morning, Harry." A cheerful voice called in greeting.
Twisting around on the grass, Harry arched his eyebrows and peered in disbelief at Luna Lovegood. The blonde witch stood on the side of the Quidditch pitch, a half-eaten apple held in her hand as she stared dreamily at the small dragon sitting in front of her. "Morning, Luna." He replied evenly, pushing to his feet. Arching his back, he stretched his arms above his head and splayed his fingers, working out the kinks and aches that came from sleeping on the ground.
"My father and I spent two months in the desert's of Egypt searching for a clan of Sandtongues. Very elusive dragons, you know." Luna explained, taking a bite out of the apple and tilting her head to better examine the pony sized Mage.
Harry followed the Ravenclaw's gaze to Esdra, taking a relieved breath when the small dragon merely twisted her own head and observed the witch through shimmering amber orbs. "I don't suppose you sent your father an owl telling him about the Mage Dragons, did you?" He asked softly, turning around and doing a quick head count to make sure the entire clan was accounted for. His finger halted on F'lar's form, eyes scanning the pitch in search of F'lor. A sigh of relief escaped him when he located the blue dragon perched atop one of swaying hoops; wings unfurled to better catch the sun's warming rays.
"Oh no, the owls are all in quarantine; terrible case of the owl flu." Luna informed him before taking another bite out of her apple. She chewed slowly; her gaze wandering over the dragons sprawled across the grass. The faint breeze that had grown with the rising of the sun stirred her hair and tugged gently at her long cloak.
"Owl flu?" Harry asked quietly, twisting sharply when F'lor gave a warning yip from his position. Before the call had faded, the rest of the Mage Dragons had risen, their wings open and their nostrils flared. It was a deep bass rumble emitted from Basta that had the clan returning to their former positions, lying back down on the lawn and stretching out comfortably. The sight of Hermione, Ron, Blaise, and Pansy striding toward him had him smiling and waving a hand in welcome. "Good morning!"
"Morning, Harry," Ron called, sliding a hand into his pocket to fish out the slice of buttered toast he'd hidden there before Hermione had dragged him out of the Great Hall. From his other pocket he withdrew an orange, which he tossed to the raven-haired wizard.
"Thanks, Ron." Nodding his head in acceptance of the fruit, Harry began to peel the orange, his eyes darting back and forth between the dragons and his friends.
"These are the last Mage Dragons?" Hermione asked in interest, observing the dragons with wide eyes. She wrapped her cloak around her as she paced before them, mentally identifying each breed as she passed by them.
Bobbing his head, the emerald-eyed wizard tucked the orange away and walked to where Esdra was suspiciously sniffing the end of Blaise's cloak. "This is Esdra," Harry said, placing a hand on the top of the small golden dragon's head. He scratched the top of the Sandtongue's head, easing his fingers down her back and between her slightly furled wings. Tugging playfully on the tip of one sandy coloured wing, he walked toward the next dragon in line.
"Black Lady," he introduced, waving his hand in the direction of the huge dark dragon. Smiling slightly, he walked past the Siberian Shade, ignoring the flick of her tail and the evil glint in her silver eyes. He ducked the black and silver wing that opened suddenly, narrowly avoiding a blow to the side of the side. "This is F'lar." The Greenback female looked the group over carefully before sliding her head under one large green wing.
"F'lor," Harry said, pointing at the large blue dragon playing guard from the one of the Quidditch hoops. "They're mated." He explained as he glided further down the line, pausing in front of the small white and gold Mage. The dragon shot him a narrowed eyed look and promptly turned around, his tail hissing over the grass. "Silverhawk; he seems to like Draco better than he does me."
"This is Druid," he murmured, shooting the Coldmouth a warning look when a fine white mist crept from his nose. Snuffling loudly, the snowy white dragon inhaled the cloud and closed its swirling orange eyes. "And this is Basta." Smiling, Harry stopped in front of the huge red dragon and raised a hand. Lowering his head, the King Mage pushed his muzzle into the raven-haired wizard's upraised palm and exhaled slowly.
"What about that one?" Luna asked, pointing at the dragon that sat silently behind Basta. The dragon's metallic hide shimmered under the sunlight, scales rippling green and purple as he shifted under the group's gaze.
Brow drawing down, Harry dropped his hands to his side, his left sliding into his pocket to rest upon the leather of Raveana's journal. "Raveana never named him."
"How do you know their names, Harry?" Hermione asked softly, cautiously approaching Druid. She extended one hand slowly, trying not to shake visibly as the white Mage lowered his head and sniffed the air above her fingertips. Her breath left her in a long sigh as the Coldmouth raised his head and resumed his stoic position, the grass under his talons frosting over slowly.
"Raveana kept a diary at Shirestra, Draco and I found it." The raven-haired Gryffindor stated, fingers smoothing over the little leather book in his pocket. Tipping his head back, he peered up into the sky and chewed his lip. The diary had held some interesting information, perhaps a little more than the journal. He needed more though, something that would explain the bond in depth.
"It's to bad there isn't any other information that would help you learn more about them." Blaise murmured, shifting uneasily as Esdra circled him. The wizard backed up nervously, moving closer to Pansy and Luna.
Harry snapped his fingers suddenly, emerald eyes widening as he remembered something. The vault that the journal had come from had held other stuff, and all of it was now sitting in his personal vault. Perhaps there was another book among the contents, something that would give him the information he would need for the coming battle. Raveana herself had said the knowledge he needed was at his fingertips. And then he had woken with her journal on his chest, under his hand. A soft laugh escaped him at the witch's clever words, maybe Raveana had given him the answer to all his problems.
"I have to go and see Dumbledore," Harry called as he backed away from the small group. Giving a quick wave, he spun around and broke into a jog, coming to a sliding halt on the opposite side of the pitch. Wheeling around, he lifted his hands to his mouth. "Watch the dragons for me!"
"Watch the dragons?" Blaise muttered, arching an eyebrow as he turned to peer at the seven Mage Dragons standing in a neat row behind them. His brows drew down as the dragons dipped their heads and focused their shining eyes on him before beginning to rumble softly. "Why do we have to watch them?"
Hermione cringed and raised her hands to cover her ears as one of the dragons opened its wings and threw its head back, shrieking at the sky before launching itself into the air. On the opposite side of the pitch, the blue dragon responded and lashed its tail in challenge. "I'm going to go and get Hagrid," she whispered, biting her lip as the hoop the dragon was sitting on swayed dangerously.
"I suggest you hurry," Blaise said calmly, eyes widening as one of the white dragons snorted a ball of ice in the direction of the large scarlet Mage. The four students remaining on the pitch exchanged worried glances as the group of dragons exploded into action. Cowering together, they retreated to base of the Slytherin stands where they all slid down to the grass and crossed their legs. Before them on the Quidditch pitch, the dragons snapped and snarled, talons tearing strips from the lawn while smoke and steam curled from flared nostrils. Not one of them thought about class; all of them completely overwhelmed with the chore of babysitting a clan of Mage Dragons.
XxXxX
Draco put the finishing touches on the piece of parchment sitting before him on the table. He sighed heavily, straightening slowly and pressing his hands to the small of his back. The rough copy of the music had been finished earlier in the morning, full of hastily scratched out notes and blobs of ink. Rubbing his eyes with his ink-stained fingers, he rose stiffly and glanced out the bedroom window at the sky. Fluffy clouds drifted unhurriedly across the pale blue expanse, backlit by the glowing sun.
Shaking his head, he scooped the pile of paper together and pulled out a drawer of the desk, placing the music neatly inside before closing it firmly. Stretching slowly, he peered at the clock on the wall before heading for the door, thoughts of the warm breakfast waiting below making his stomach growl. His journey to the small dining room was uneventful and unhurried, the chances of his mother being up at this time of the morning minimal. He was, however, slightly disappointed at finding his father sitting silently at the head of the table, Daily Prophet held firmly in one hand.
"Good morning, Draco." Lucius Malfoy murmured, placing the paper on the table next to his empty plate. He leaned back in his chair, slumping gracefully as he reached for his coffee cup.
Nodding his head in acknowledgment of his father's greeting, Draco filled a plate at the side table before strolling to his place at the long table. Setting the plate lightly upon the dark wood, the blond ran his fingers through his hair and flopped into the chair behind him. "Morning," he muttered, reaching for the dainty cup of steaming tea that had materialized in front of him. Taking a cautious sip, he sighed and slid deeper into the chair, savoring the warmth and taste of the liquid.
Lucius arched an eyebrow and flipped his paper over, pale eyes scanning the fine print absently. "How was your night?" The elder blond asked softly, draining the last dredges of coffee from the bottom of the cup. With a flick of his fingers, he gestured for one of the waiting house elves to refill the empty mug.
"Quiet," answered Draco, sampling the scrambled eggs he'd selected from the sideboard. He almost groaned in delight at the taste, choosing instead to sit back and turn his gaze to his father. "Where's my flute?"
"Voldemort has it," Lucius replied evenly, opening the paper and turning the page without glancing at Draco. Eyebrows arching at the title of an article, he picked the paper up and held it closer to his face. "He's under the impression that he possesses the Dragon's Maw." Shifting the Daily Prophet into his left hand, he reached for his coffee cup with the other.
Pausing with his fork half way to his mouth, Draco tipped his head and turned his blue eyes to his father. "You gave him my flute?" Shaking his head in exasperation, he resumed eating, wondering exactly how his father was going to explain the mix up between the flutes to the Dark Lord. He cleared his plate efficiently and drank the last of his coffee before asking his father to excuse him and leaving the table.
He made his way back to his bedroom, gliding leisurely down the halls as the house came alive around him. House elves worked to clean and straighten various rooms, opening windows and drawing back the drapes as they moved through the sprawling Manor. Tapping his bottom lip with his index finger, Draco walked into his bedroom and headed straight for the desk perched on the opposite side of the room. He withdrew the music that he had placed in one of the drawers, grabbing the Dragon's Maw from its place on his night table as he exited the room.
Never before had he been given a chance to play the entire summoning song, which left him in a little bit of a dilemma. If he practiced it now, he risked the chance of calling the dragons from the protection of Harry and Hogwarts. However, if he chose not to practice, he ran the chance of screwing up when it really counted. Blowing out a long breath in frustration, he stormed down the hall to the small music room.
He approached the piano sitting forlornly in the corner slowly, raising an eyebrow at the layer of dust that had been allowed to settle over the ivory keys. Setting the silver flute carefully on the bench, he arranged the music on the small ledge provided before gingerly perching himself next to the shining instrument. His fingers hovered over the keys for a moment, the tips lightly caressing the aged ivory. Inhaling deeply, he settled his hands firmly into place and lifted his eyes to the music.
The first note was played gingerly, ears straining to discern whether or not the instrument was actually in tune. A small smile played over his features when the note rang pure, fingers shifting lightly over the keys. Relaxing his spine, he allowed himself to carefully play the lilting melody, pausing every now and then to replay a line or series of notes. He glanced over his shoulder when a shadow fell across the keyboard, raising his eyes to meet his mother's shining orbs.
"You still play wonderfully, darling." Narcissa shrilled from behind him, one finger wagging back and forth with the tune he played. Smiling happily, she gave him a kiss on the top of the head before waltzing from the room, humming the refrain as she went.
Sighing over his mother's alcohol induced condition, the blond returned to the piano, fingers dancing over the keys swiftly. When he was sure he had the entire composition memorized, he flipped the music over and closed his eyes, allowing his mind to guide his fingers without halting. A proud smile turned the corners of his lips up as he brought the piece to a close, fingers sliding over the keys in a gesture of finality.
"That's it?" His father demanded from the doorway, causing him to twist around and study the older wizard's arrogant stance.
Narrowing his eyes, Draco rose from the bench and collected the papers and the Dragon's Maw. "It is," he stated, striding forward to stand in front of Lucius.
Lucius nodded and peered down into his son's eyes, lifting a hand to sweep his hair back over his shoulder. "You're expected to play tonight before the Dark Lord, be prepared." Giving Draco a firm nod, he whirled around and stalked down the hall, vanishing into the room he shared with Narcissa.
Draco stared dry-mouthed after his father, the Dragon's Maw heavy in his hand. Biting his lip, he drew himself up and tipped his chin, he was prepared and he could only hope that Harry was ready. Bowing his head at the thought, he prowled down the hall, shooting a look at the door of his parent's room as he passed it. They didn't have a choice anymore; Voldemort's downfall would occur tonight and with it, the assurance that the Mage Dragons would remain protected.
A/N: Thanks to everyone who took the time to read and review!
PaddyWaddy - Generally, any actual slash that occurs in my stories happens at the very end.
RavenclawBest - True, but perhaps we've all been underestimating him.
PleiadesWolfe - Narcissa is kinda of an alcoholic and in her own little world.
Fiery Phoenix - Narcissa is exactly as you've got her pegged. The world became to much so she simply exists in her own mind and chooses only to hear what she wants.
kasmo - Draco does know what he's doing and exactly what depends on his being able to pull it off.
Shinigami - Raveana was born with blue eyes but when she bonded with Basta they changed colours. The same would have happened with Harry if he hadn't already had green eyes.
Shadow of the Shadow - I included a refresher on the dragons in this chapter in hopes of warding off any other confusion. The silver dragon . . . I'm still playing around with its personality and it hasn't actually been named yet.
Beth Weasley - Thank you very much for the sketch, it was exactly as I had pictured the Mage Dragons.
TorringMay - Reginald and Raveana's relationship is a part of Malfoy history. This is also why, included in the small room on the third floor, there are separate pictures of both Rav and Reggie (they keep each other company).