Dawn

Chapter 6 : Under the winter sky

The tabby cat hurried up Hogwart's corridors, its small paws tiptoeing noiselessly on the large stone slabs. In front of an ugly gargoyle, it suddenly morphed into a wrinkled, stern-looking woman. She straightened her clothes, and stepped forward as she uttered the password, idly wondering why the great Albus Dumbledore's was always quite silly.

"Ah, my dear, here you are at last. Sit down," said Dumbledore, beaming, as she entered the room. The three other Head of Houses, Professor Lupin, Madams Pomfrey and Hooch, and Sirius Black were already there, waiting for the Phoenix War Council to begin. Minerva settled herself into a comfortable leather armchair between Severus Snape's and Avellina Sprout's. While the Slytherin seemed bleaker than ever, the latter shot her a welcoming smile, before turning back her attention to the Headmaster.

"My dear friends, welcome to the Council's new session. Let's begin with the weekly reports, shall we? Severus?"

The Potions Master eyed him without enthusiasm and sighed.

"From what I could gather at the last Dark Revel - and that wasn't much, given that I was groveling in the dirt most of the time - Voldemort's partisans in East Europe are assembling in Switzerland. Whether it's due to Voldemort liking chocolate or the country's perfect neutrality, I can't tell. The Dark Lord is more powerful than ever, but he still fears you, Headmaster. He will not attack Hogwarts yet. Directly, that is." Snape closed his eyes. "The last meeting... It was dreadful. I killed her, Albus. I had to watch while they tortured her...I couldn't bear it. They thought she died of her numerous wounds," he added, incredulity and pain coloring his voice. Professor Sprout took his bonny hand in hers with motherly concern. Too distraught to protest, he did not remove it.

The Headmaster shoulders' slumped. "Does Draco know yet?" he asked simply.

"He slept three whole days, Headmaster. Dreamless Sleep Potions," interrupted Madam Pomfrey.

Professor Lupin looked vaguely puzzled. "Who are you talking about, Headmaster?" he inquired with a hint of fear.

"My niece, Mister Lupin, my dear niece," declared a feminine voice, as she moved forward with catlike grace. The old woman's raven hair were tied in a tight bun on her stiff neck. She must have been beautiful in her prime, but silver locks and wrinkles now marred her beauty. Her bearing full of pride and her pristine blue and gold silk robes identified her a Lady of Llewelyn.

"Mother !" exclaimed Snape, astonished.

"Lady Dara, how nice of you to join us," said Dumbledore, surprised but too well bred not to welcome their guest properly. Snape beat him to it, drawing a chair for her near the fire.

"Did you break the wards?" breathed Sirius, stopping himself from drooling just in time. Too much time in his Animagus form really did nothing to improve his social skills.

Lady Dara gave him a look of hauteur. "Of course not. I followed your cat." She paused to shot a knowledgeable look to McGonagall, who looked rather miserable. "Actually, I needed to talk to you. The famous Phoenix War Council, indeed?" she added a heartbeat later, gesturing to the group.

He smiled. "Indeed."

"Curious. I expected... Nevermind. I have an offer you should find interesting enough. As you well know, Llewelyn House had been neutral in wars of all kind for over sixteen centuries. Except when one of our clan was threatened, killed or worse, dishonored. Two days ago, Narcissa Malfoy, born of Llewelyn, died in the Dark Lord's paws. Therefore, it's time for us to enter the war."

"When Muggles and other wizards are killed, you don't care. But if a bloody Llewelyn is, you enter the war? That's bloody unfair!" exclaimed Black.

"Life is not fair, get used to it. Yma o hyd, Mister Black. My clan did not survive so long without making sacrifices. And kindly refrain to swear while we are in the same room," retorted dryly Lady Dara. "The fact remains, Headmaster Dumbledore, that Llewelyn House offers alliance to Hogwarts. Our knowledge, our artifacts and our wizards."

"And Hogwarts is honored to accept. We need all the help we can get," Dumbledore said with a warm smile. "Shall we sign the contract?"

With a curt nod, Lady Dara stepped forward. The older wizard took her hands in his, and promptly the Resistance's last two bastions were united.

The elder witch pensively examined the Council. Ten persons and a skinny teenager to win a war? Who are we fooling? she mused with a bitterness that surprised her. Feeling every one of her sixty-two years, she wearily sat by the fire. A strange melancholy overcame her as she thought of her calm, self-effacing and deceased niece, Narcissa. Beautiful but weak. As different from her mother as ice and fire are. Poor Milena was the only one who saw Lucius for what he really was...

Meanwhile, Dumbledore motioned to Professor Lupin to begin his report. The Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher shifted uncomfortably in his armchair as all eyes fell on him.

"Five Muggle houses attacked; three witches and five wizards kidnapped, and probably dead by now, in the last forty-eight hours. The Ministry is passive and inefficient : Fudge persists in denying Voldemort's reappearance - I can't understand why he was elected again. The only ones useful out there are the Unspeakable, but they are overwhelmed for obvious numerical reasons. However, my contact amongst them assured me of their unconditional support," he said, his voice betraying no emotion.

"Good work, Remus," squeaked Flitwick, while the others simply nodded in approval.

"Yes, indeed. Thora?" pursued Dumbledore.

Madam Hooch lifted her fierce yellow gaze. "The centaurs related abnormal activity at the northern edge of the Forbidden Forest during the week."

"Malfoy Mansion," said Severus and his mother immediately.

"Figures," whispered Black.

"There is worse. According to Firenze, Wystan the Hungarian Horntail and Raewulf the Hebridean Black have allied themselves with the Dark Lord. Their tribes are preparing to battle, hidden in the Swiss Alps."

A dispirited silence settled between them, as realization of what she had said sank in.

"Are we still sure centaurs are reliable?" asked Professor Sprout. "What if they had betrayed us? To assure their safety?"

"If Voldemort win the war, the world's balance will be destroyed for good, and the centaurs' hiraeth is too strong for them to even consider it," said Lady Dara after a moment.

"Prosaically speaking, they don't have any interest in Voldemort's victory. We can therefore assume they will stay loyal to us," confirmed McGonagall. "Albus?" she added a second later, as the older wizard stared blankly to the fire.

"So it begins," stated the Headmaster with grim resolution. "How many?"

"Approximately seventy dragons with the two tribes. Maybe more."

"You said Llewelyn House would help the Council in any way available. Does that also take your alliance with Dilwen's tribe into account ?" asked Dumbledore thoughtfully, turning to Lady Dara.

"Alliance is too great a word. Dilwen and her kin have protected Llewelyn's lands for centuries, while we provided them enough food from ours herds during winter. It doesn't include defeating evil overlords," she replied, smiling sadly.

"Kindly ask her anyway. Twenty Green Welsh would be of invaluable help. "

"Thirty-two," corrected Snape automatically. He pretended not to notice Black glaring at him across the room with all the subtlety of an Hippogriff.

"Even if they join us, our numerical inferiority is still blatant," Madam Pomfrey pointed out with her innate pragmatism.

"'Ad augusta per angusta'," concluded Flitwick philosophically, and the Phoenix War Council's meeting came to an end.

~*~

Draco warily peered out the infirmary wooden door. No nurse in sight? Then thank Merlin I'm free! He got back his clothes in the huge wardrobe and spotted his leather bag nearby. Quickly dressed, he left the Hospital Wing without regrets, hoping Madam Pomfrey wouldn't notice his absence too soon.
The Slytherin still felt somewhat tired, but his youthful body was coping well enough. He had probably slept longer than expected, but having utterly lost track of time, he was unable to tell whose day it was.

As he walked down the marble stairs, Draco wondered where the Granger girl had fled. After the 'incident' with his father, he vaguely remembered her comforting him, before sleep's merciful darkness had enveloped him. He had half-hoped to see her at his side when he awoke. What did you expect? Still, it had stung.

In the Entrance Hall, Draco opened the large oak doors and a chilly wind swept over him. Shuddering, he tightened his woolen cloak around him. He strode swiftly across the grounds covered with thick snow. The immaculate whiteness reflected the bright dawn, sending glistening sparks of light wherever eyes fell. The Slytherin almost felt awkward to disturb winter peaceful rest, but the spell he wanted to cast was much more efficient outdoor, and he really didn't want it to fail.

He eventually laid his hand on a small creek, by the lake's shore, sheltered from inquisitive glances by two old weeping willows, whose bare branches looked a little too bizarre in Draco's opinion to be welcoming. That will do.

The silver-haired wizard sank to his knees. With his wand, he carefully formed an hexagram on the slightly wet ground, drawing at each point of the star the magical symbol of an element : K'ouen, the Earth; K'an, the Water; Li, the Fire; Siuan, the Wind; K'ien, the Sky; and K'en, the Mountain.
Draco sat down in the center of the figure, legs crossed, palms turned to the sky resting on his knees, in the meditative position dhyâna-mudrâ. Filled with respect, he tried to open his heart to the Earth, letting the antique might slowly overcome him. His focus was almost absolute, but he couldn't help shuddering from time to time, when an icy draught ran over his spine. Steadying his will, he began reciting the ancient incantation.

"Terra, Ventus, Aqua, Ignis. Antiquas potentias quod mundus regere inclamare. Venire ad mehe, tra nervi praebere. Meus corpus ad Terra credere, in Natura dilabi."

Draco abandoned himself to the mystical trance.

~*~

The atmosphere was surprisingly tense in the Headmaster's cozy office. Two wizards and a witch sat by the fire, sipping some tea in delicate blue china cups. Severus Snape sighed heavily.

"You want me to talk to him, do you?" he said at last, resigned.

"He respects you. Who else do you think he would listen to? I don't think Lady Dara would be an appropriate choice," replied Dumbledore absentmindedly. "No offense, of course," he added a second later, realizing he must have sounded quite rude.

"None taken. I have never been one for children," recognized the elder witch briskly, oblivious to her son's gloom face as a flicker of pain crossed his black pupils.

The Headmaster wisely choose to divert the subject to another pressing matter. "Now that he's free from his father's grasp, do you think he will help us?"

"Underestimate Lucius would be a mistake we can't afford at this time. Even if he had disowned him, the man still holds a certain power on Draco. Old habits are hard to kill," rejoined Snape. "Draco is not a Gryffindor, Albus. While we can assume he left Voldemort's side for good, he never openly joined ours."

Lady Dara nodded slowly. "We cannot expect him to risk his life without a powerful motive."

"His mother's murder could easily stands for a quite convincing argument," reasoned Dumbledore.

Snape closed his eyes, a painful expression painted on his sharp features. "Manipulation," he said quietly.

"You're a Slytherin," pointed out Lady Dara.

"And that would be an excuse because? That's too easy. Always send Slytherins do the dirty work. Don't they mind? No, of course, they don't have a conscience or a heart."

"You weren't overburdened by either at eighteen, if I recall correctly," retorted his mother dryly.

Snape swallowed audibly, not trusting his voice to respond. It took all his self-control not to grip his left arm convulsively.

"That was a low blow, even by your standards, mother," he said hoarsely, before getting up and heading to the entrance. "I will do it," he added with a quick nod at Dumbledore, his face emotionless.

The door slammed shut behind him.

~*~

Oblivious to the others' concerns, Draco slowly regained consciousness. The sun was now high in the blue winter sky, and if the atmosphere had warmed a little, he still felt awfully chilled, his whole body stiffened by the cold. He stretched himself tentatively, wincing as his sore muscles protested painfully. It didn't work... he realized, and sheer disappointment overwhelmed him. He had put so much hope in that spell...

A bell rang in the distance, announcing lunch. Unable to push away his frustration, he snatched a stone and threw it as hard as he could towards the lake. See, Spinner? His bitter laughter echoed sinisterly in the winter silence.

He walked back to the castle, a sour taste invading his mouth as he thought of his father. It's easy for you, Spinner, to play havoc with my life... You're not the one who will be on the receiving end of his wrath. Lucius will find a way to make me pay.

He had opened the Great Doors, and was about to step inside when a high-pitched shriek interrupted his musings. Rael landed with a rustle of feathers on his promptly outstretched arm. My grandmother's ribbon? Draco frowned. She usually applied the Malfoy's well-known about everything concerning family: No news, good news. Getting an owl from her was rarely a pleasing experience. He opened the letter, an awful sense of foreboding invading his heart.

Draco,

Your mother died two days ago from a tragical accident. She received proper burial yesterday afternoon in Hogsmeade graveyard. I apologize dearly not to have informed you earlier, but Lucius was adamant.

All my condolences.

Your grandmother,
Griselda Malfoy.

Aghast, Draco stared numbly at the parchment, not even noticing when he let it drop on the ground. Icy wind brushed past him, but he did not feel it. Leaving the doors ajar, he did the only thing he was still able to do. He ran away.

He ran in the snow, oblivious to everything but the irrational pain crushing his heart. He stumbled, fell, and stood up, casting all his mind power in the mere action of running. Grief, guilt and anger he had kept hidden for fourteen years lashed out with renewed violence, providing him the focus he had lacked earlier.

Draco felt a warmer blood coursing through his veins, sheer strength overcoming him. The world span around him wildly, and he plummeted As he outstretched his arms to absorb his fall, he glimpsed two large paws. Disoriented, he tried to cry out, but only managed to growl. All his sensations were sharpened. He perceived sounds more clearly, and scents told him more information that he thought it possible.

His sorrow, however, was not eased in the slightest, and the great wolf started running again, his silver fur blending in the snow.

The animal stopped its desperate flight in front of Hogmeasde graveyard's entrance. The cemetery was empty, snow eerily covering the numerous sepultures. He hurried by the freshest grave, under a solitary yew, only to howl like a wounded beast as he read the beautifully carved inscription on the marble tombstone.

Narcissa Malfoy, born of Llewelyn, beloved mother and wife,
December the 19th, year 1998.

Potius mori quam foedari.

Heartbroken, Draco resumed his human form.
Wolves could not cry.

~*~

Sound the bugle now - Play it just for me
As the seasons change - Remember how I used to be
Now I can't go on - I can't even start
I've got nothing left - Just an empty heart

I'm a soldier - Wounded so I must give up the fight
There's nothing more for me - Lead me away...
Or leave me lying here

Sound the bugle now - Tell them I don't care
There's not a road I know - That leads to anywhere
Without a light, fear that I will stumble in the dark
Lay right down - Decide not to go on

Then from on height - Somewhere in the distance
There's a voice that calls - Remember who you are

If you loose yourself your courage soon will follow
So be strong tonight - Remember who you are
Ya you're a soldier now - Fighting in a battle
To be free once more
Ya that's worth fighting for

(Gavin Greenway/Trevor Horn)