Nicole Stevens: Dragons and Deceit

Author notes: Thanks to everyone who made this story possible. I love all of you.

A big thank-you to the Moderators and Coders.

Avril Lavigne rocks!

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Nicole Stevens: Dragons and Deceit

AquilisRose

The dragon lay before the entrance,

She knew at once that they had been deceived.

For at one time the creature would have been a friend,

But now she knew that her hope was at an end.

Chapter One: Rubies and a Raven

It was very unlike me to leave my homework for last, yet this summer had been full of procrastination. I had put off writing to Draco; I did not desire an explosion rather like Mount Saint Helens as it spewed fiery lava over the land. I had delayed doing my homework, not for the mere pleasure of doing so, as most teenagers would, but because I had been preoccupied. My preoccupation, however, was not one that my professors would be likely to accept.

It was late July, and school was scheduled to begin in a month. I liked my school, but I presently had no burning desire to return. Though Hogwarts was profoundly interesting, I would have much preferred if there was more time in the summer holidays.

Today was the thirty-first of July, my boyfriend's birthday. He was staying at my home for the summer, as it was a much more enjoyable place to spend the summer than the Dursley home, of Number Four, Privet Drive. My boyfriend was unusual in many ways; first off, he was quite tall, verging on six feet; secondly, his hair was untidy and slightly long, even though I had cut it for him less than a week ago; and third, my boyfriend had a lightning-bolt shaped scar on his forehead. Of all the interesting things about him, his scar was by far the most unusual. It was a souvenir of a terrible curse that had been bestowed upon him when he was only a year old, but, because of his mother's love, he escaped with only the scar, a reminder of his past and his dead parents, who had been killed by Lord Voldemort (a Dark Wizard and one of the most feared wizards in the era), who was also the one who had cursed Harry. The curse had rebounded upon Voldemort, so Voldemort had fled, leaving behind the crying little baby boy: Harry Potter.

Harry had learnt he was a wizard on his eleventh birthday, and had attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry under the supervision of Albus Dumbledore. Harry had been schooled at Hogwarts for six years, and the new school year would mark his seventh and final year, at Hogwarts. Needless to say, Harry was quite nervous at the prospect of living life without Hogwarts as his home, but he was also excited, which he had confided to me over the summer.

I, Nicole Stevens, a witch from America who had lived in Britain for over two years, had only attended Hogwarts in my fifth and sixth years. Previous to Hogwarts, I had gone to Wendlyn's Academy of Witchcraft for the first four years of my student life.

Last year, Harry and I had been in our sixth year, and we ad been having trouble with our relationship. There had been a Dark Wizard (Tom Riddle, a former Hogwarts student who had grown up to be Lord Voldemort) running loose around the school grounds. I had been sold to Voldemort by one of my friends, and at that time boyfriend, Draco Malfoy. He had been apologetic afterwards, but I truly had wished to be with someone who hadn't almost gotten me killed. Draco and his father kidnapped me and took me to their home, where Riddle and Voldemort were anticipating my arrival. Once there, I had been deceived, betrayed, and thrown into a dungeon, which I disliked heartily. Harry had rescued me, killing Tom Riddle and saving the world once again.

This summer was turning out well, but I had a feeling that it would only go downhill from here. Things in my life had a way of turning out how you least expected them to; unless, of course, you had suspected that Draco had sold me to Voldemort for the second time, and then imagined the time when I would revert back to dating Harry, which I highly doubt you did. Even I had not expected that to happen. So, while Harry was not out fighting evil dark overlords, we spent as much time together as possible. It was a good situation, and I found myself sleeping well, with the absence of my dreams, which usually foretold great misfortune. I suspected that the dreams would begin again soon, even though every night I fell asleep with Harry's arm wrapped protectively around me.

At the moment, I was doing something any normal teen would do when she was bored. I was reading. Okay, maybe that's not as common at I thought.

My selection for this week's reading was Magical Me. Oddly enough, Harry had known the author (Gilderoy Lockhart) in his second year at Hogwarts, and Lockhart had been his Defence Against the Dark Arts class. Also, Lockhart had been a fake, taking credit for what other wizards had done. But, when Lockhart accidentally cast a memory charm on himself, he'd had to go and piece together his life, trying to remember who he was. After his travels, he had only come up with two things: his name was Gilderoy Lockhart, and he was an author. Lockhart then had written Who Am I? an autobiography I also happened to own.

The Banshee was particularly violent. It lunged at me, tearing teeth and nail to snatch my wand from my hand. I managed to throw the horrible creature off me, and cast a basic Sleeping Spell on it. I escaped with nothing but a scratch, and--luckily--had no other injuries.

I snorted, remembering that Harry had called Lockhart 'a miserable old fake who couldn't cast a Lumos charm to light his way in broad daylight, and he wouldn't have even thought that he didn't need a charm because it was already bright.' It seemed like Harry disliked Gilderoy Lockhart, and from the stories I have heard about him, I wouldn't blame anyone for hating him.

Werewolves are violent creatures, who are animals even when in their human form. They should be approached only by a trained professional, such as myself. To defeat a werewolf takes courage, knowledge, and a certain charming air. I have defeated many werewolves in my career, and though I have escaped unharmed, many other have not. Obviously, I have the things needed to hunt werewolves.

"He didn't have any of those things," Harry said from behind me. He had been reading over my shoulder.

"It makes him sound like some great hero. I can't believe he didn't do all of this. How could he have known about exactly what happened if he didn't do it?"

"He asked the people who had actually done the things, and then memory charmed them. Not very kind, but I really don't think Lockhart cared about compassion."

"Apparently not." I set the book on the coffee table, as Harry came to sit beside me on the living room couch. "So, what've you been up to?"

"Flying," he replied.

"Mentally or on a broom?" I joked.

"Both. Are we going out to dinner tonight, or not? I was wondering if you had decided yet."

"Yeah, I'd like to go to dinner. Where are we going? A Muggle restaurant?"

"Possibly, but it really depends on what you want."

"Harry, it's your birthday. You get to choose, for once."

"I say we go somewhere I won't be recognised," he said. "That means we're going Muggle. Do you know any good places?"

"No. My father is really the one to ask about things like that. He's fascinated with Muggle wine, and if you want to find the place with the best wine, ask him."

"I don't drink wine."

"Then don't ask him. Ask my mother."

"I'll just do that, then," he said, kissing my cheek and standing. "I'll be right back in a second." He strode into the kitchen, where my mother was humming and packing a lunch for the picnic Harry and I had planned. I heard Harry questioning my mother about the best Muggle place for dinner; she answered him with a long list of restaurants that we might like. The scratching of a quill made me laugh; Harry was copying down the list. Five minutes later, Harry returned to the living room, carrying our lunch in a basket (and what looked like three sheets of paper containing the names of restaurants.)

"So, have you decided on a place?" I asked Harry, laughing.

"Not quite," he answered. "Come on, let's go."

We headed out to the little grove of trees my family owned. Last year, a few of the trees had almost died of a magical poisoning, but now they were much healthier--flourishing, even. As we neared the trees, I heard the crowing of a raven. Looking over the canopy of the trees, I saw a large black bird swoop down through the leaves of my willow.

"Did you see that bird?" I asked incredulously. "It was enormous!"

"Yeah," Harry replied. "I didn't know you had crows around here. In fact, I've never seen one near the trees."

"Neither have I. Odd." We stepped under the shelter of trees, and I immediately began straining my eyes to find the bird again, but it had disappeared. We continued until we reached a small alcove of trees where a solitary blue willow stood in the centre, with an oak and a beech tree near it. Harry took my hand and led me over to the willow, where he deposited the lunch basket and unfolded the small blanket and spread it out over the ground. I sat on the blanket, leaning back against the trunk of the willow, and Harry sat across from me. I passed him a sandwich and a bottled of water. He stuffed half of the sandwich in his mouth at one time and chewed quickly.

"Harry, don't choke yourself; we have plenty of time to eat."

"I know," he said through his second bite of the sandwich. "But I--" he swallowed and took another bite, "--I wanted to show you something I found the other day when I was walking in the forest. I've just now remembered about it."

"Harry, it's okay. I'm sure whatever it is will still be there in ten minutes." I unwrapped my sandwich, taking a small bite. It was ham and mayonnaise--gross. Disgusting. I hated mayonnaise. "You want my sandwich Harry?" I asked, holding it out to him. He shook his head and took another swig of water. I rewrapped the food and threw it back into the basket. There was a package of crackers inside, and I decided to eat those instead, but Harry had finished eating his sandwich. He jumped up, grabbing my hand as I reached out for the crackers and pulling me past the willow. He led me through the trees into the denser part of the little forest. A few metres behind the willow was what seemed to be a small pond. More like a large puddle.

"Come this way," Harry took me to the water's edge and kneeled in the mud. I followed his example and Harry said, "Look." He was pointing at the surface of the water. I looked at it, and found myself staring at my reflection. But this was not the person I had seen in my mirror this morning--I was older in the water. My hair was golden, and it stretched far down my spine. My face was more mature, and my cheekbones were defined more. I turned my eyes to Harry's reflection--he was older looking too. His hair was longer, his green eyes darker. Harry's usually pale skin was even whiter; almost translucent. A small scar ran along the neck of Harry's reflection. I looked at Harry crouching beside me; the scar wasn't on his neck now. That meant that this mirror not only showed our aged images, but also the future, in a sense. I returned my gaze to the water.

I wanted to test my theory. I waved my hand at my reflection. My skin was slightly wrinkled, and a gold ring glittered on my ring finger--it was a wedding ring, I had no doubt. I turned over my hand, seeing in the reflection that the stone set in the gold band was a large diamond.

"Cool, eh?" Harry said.

"Yeah," my reply was distracted. Through the water I saw a large hole; a tunnel, it seemed. "Harry, take my ring," I said. I raised my right hand and removed the ring Harry had given me last Christmas. The pearl shone from the band. Harry took the ring.

"What are you going to do?"

"Watch," I said, plunging my hand deep into the centre of the pond; straight into the hole. My hand met nothing but water as I leaned further and further into the water. Then I lost my balance, toppling into the water, and sinking down into the hole. I tried to swim back upwards, but there was some sort of suction that was pulling me deeper. I kicked, but kept going further down. My feet hit the bottom of the pit, and I felt blindly through the darkness, my fingers travelling over the rock walls around me. I was running out of air. I needed to get back up, but I couldn't. My fingers contacted something cool: metal. It was a knob of some sort. I twisted the knob, and a large portion of the rock wall moved inward. A door. Water flowed through the door, there was a room full of air beyond it. I swam into the airy room, and found myself staring around me at the walls of the circular room. The walls were encrusted with jewels; rubies, diamonds, sapphires, and many others. I slammed the door shut behind me to keep the room from becoming more flooded. There was light coming from somewhere. As I glanced at the ceiling, I saw tiny pinpricks of light coming through the rock and reflecting of the jewelled walls.

In the centre of the room, a pedestal stood, and on it, a large red stone glittered on a silver chain. I stepped toward it, before I heard the door opening. I spun around, as Harry came into the room. He closed the door behind him, making his way through the ankle deep water toward me.

"What is this place?" he asked, breathing roughly.

"I don't know."

"What happened to you?"

"I fell into the water, and was sucked down the tunnel. I found the door and came in."

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah."

"Look at the walls," he whispered in awe, staring around him. "These are jewels."

"I had noticed. Listen Harry, how are we going to get out of here?"

"Swim back up, of course. It's only about fifteen feet."

"I don't know. Maybe there's another way. I don't feel like swimming. I'm wondering how this water got here, and where it came from. And this room, wow. I mean, how often do you find someplace like this?"

"At your house," Harry teased, "it's pretty often. But I don't think there's another way out."

"There must be," I said. "See the water?" I pointed at the floor, where the water was lowly draining. "It's got to be going somewhere. I mean, it can just be disappearing, can it?"

"Maybe the jewels soak it up, or something. Or, maybe the water flows out through some little cracks in the ground. Either way, it doesn't provide a way out for us."

"True, but I still want to check." I went closer to the ruby necklace on the pedestal. It was so beautiful. The stone glittered, its many facets reflecting the dim light astoundingly. I reached out to touch it, my fingers contacted the chain as Harry moved around the room, feeling along the walls for another door. I picked up the ruby. It couldn't hurt to take it, could it? Surely no one had been down here in years. I'd just keep it, and no one would mind. I slipped the necklace into my pocket.

"Hey, Nicole! I found another door. Let's see where it leads." I turned around, sloshing over to Harry in my wet shoes. He took my hand and opened the door he had found. Behind this door was a dark passageway with ankle deep water on the floor. Harry went first, and we went down the passage. After a few moments, the ground began sloping upwards slightly. We continued walking, and in moments, a rush of cool air greeted us. There was light ahead, and we entered into a cave. It was a few seconds before we had finally come completely out of the cave, but once we had, I wondered if we should go back. I had no idea where we were.

"Harry, do you know where we are, by any chance?"

"Not really, but--we were heading east while we were going through the door, and I think we kept going that way. So, if we head southeast, then that should bring us somewhere ear your house."

"Right. Let's just do what you said." He nodded and pointed in the direction we should take. Shivering, we began trudging southeast.

After ten minutes of walking, we finally came to a place I knew. It was behind my house, where the forest ended. Harry realised this too, and so we began to head back to our picnic spot. My feet were soaked with water, as were Harry's. We were completely drenched, and the warm breeze only served to make us colder. But, soon we were within the cover of the trees. It took us very little time to return to the willow tree. Harry tossed the remnants of lunch into the basket, and grabbed the blanket.

"Here," he wrapped the blanket around my shoulders.

"Thanks, Harry."

"No problem, let's--"

"Are you Harry Potter?" a hoarse voice asked croakily from the willow branch above our heads.

We looked up to see a gigantic raven sitting in the tree. It was definitely the same raven from earlier.

"Why do you ask?" Harry questioned.

"I have a message for a Mister Harry James Potter," the raven said.

"How do you know my middle name?"

"Do not ask questions. I am here only to deliver a message. I ask you again, are you Harry James Potter?"

"Yes, I am."

"Then here is the message--Mister Potter, beware. Evil things are going to happen, may be happening already. Watch your back, and be suspicious of those you trust. Believe no one, for they may be lying." The raven cawed one time.

"Who sends me this message?" Harry asked.

"A friend."

"Who are you?"

"I am Ravarot, the Prophet and Message Carrier of Darkness."

"Why should I trust you?"

Ravarot crowed angrily and flapped his wings in fury. "Are you questioning me?"

Harry shook his head. "Tell my 'friend' that if he really wants me to trust what he says, then he should deliver his own messages."

Ravarot flew to the ground; his beak was as high as Harry's waist. The raven stretched its legs, causing it to become a foot taller. "Are you threatening him?"

"So he's a man, then. No, I'm not threatening him. I'm saying that I won't trust the message until it is delivered by whoever sends it."

"I will deliver your message," Ravarot said. He took off, soaring up through the canopy of leaves. Harry and I looked at each other.

"Well, that was different," I said.

"Tell me about it. Let's go inside before a toucan comes and tells me that I need to go have a party with a bunch of Death Eaters." We went inside, both pondering Ravarot's message. Who had sent the raven? Was the message a hoax? We wouldn't know until we met the sender of the message.