Montane Hope

Chapter 1 (of 16)

Draco surveyed the table. It was just light, a heavy frost outside and the table was bare. Well, almost. A large bowl of fruit sat in the middle of the table, there were jugs of milk and fruit juice nearby and a glass jar full of homemade muesli. He knew from previous mornings that the little containers held sesame seeds, crushed linseed, and pumpkin seeds - no sugar at all. It had been the same for the past week.

Dylan grinned. "Eat as much as you can, you know there's never any decent snacks round here."

Draco's stomach grumbled. His auntie was a health freak. So much for summer, being starved in a country full of muggles wasn't his idea of fun. We-ell. Filling his bowl and scattering on crushed nuts and seeds till it overflowed, he filled a pint-mug with fruit juice and took a seat by the fire. His cousin, Dylan, was testament to the 'healthy' lifestyle. Even though it was winter, he was lightly tanned with a permanent glow to his cheeks. Only a year older than Draco, he was taller and bulkier, strong from the outside chores he did - without magic - on his parents' farm.

His aunt's cooking, combining or whatever you call it (since the meals often weren't cooked) was certainly tasty. However, after a week of strenuous, activity helping Dylan outside his body was demanding more food, real food. Normally Draco would have sneered at his cousin's lifestyle. However, the advice Dumbledore gave him at the end of the year had intrigued him - not least because Severus Snape had been in full agreement. Besides - and he barely dared admit this to himself - Dylan was the best looking wizard he'd ever met. What was good for Dylan must be good for Draco - though he still wasn't sure about all these muggle gadgets - and electricity! Dylan's father had put magical shields round most of the power points in the house. Magic to protect from magic.

The past year - Draco's sixth at Hogwarts - could easily be described as his worst year ever. Visions of the future gave him hope to carry on. A future that, if he lived, would surely see him recognised as one of the most powerful wizards Britain had known for years - maybe even more famous than Hermione Granger. After all, he was a pure-blood and she...

Already he was involved in a war that would shape the future of wizardry. In less than a month he would be back in Britain, ready to fulfil his role. His time in New Zealand would not be wasted. The books Snape had given him outlined the next step in his studies, lessons he could learn here, during the New Zealand winter before the time came to return home. Thinking about this, he chased the last sesame seeds with his spoon, scooping them a few at a time out of the bottom of the bowl. When should I start though? And where?

"Do you want to take the car later?" Dylan asked. "I'll teach you how to drive."

"Yeah. Where can it go?"

"Anywhere you like, as long as there's a road there."

* * * * *

The Weasel was alone for once. Draco hummed a snatch of song under his breath as he approached. I should really make up another. If only I could be bothered. He slouched along the corridor, still humming.

"So, Malfoy. Where are the Ugly Sisters?"

"Pardon?" Draco acted as though he'd only just noticed Ron Weasley. Weasley sneered, an ugly look.

"You heard. Crabbe and Goyle, your shadows."

You know where they are. They're with Mudblood Granger." Draco gazed levelly at Weasley. It was like teasing a kitten. That word, mudblood, always set him off.

"You dare..."

"Don't worry, Weasley. I'm sure the three of them are getting on very well with Poppy."

Weasley's hand was twitching. He turned sharply on his heel, back the way he had come.

Well, what makes him think I won't get my wand out? Draco fingered it in his pocket. Now really Draco - and a prefect! Why waste an opportunity like this though?

"Heard from your mother lately, Weasley," he called after him. "I heard she trimmed down a bit after your father nearly died last year. Bit of a fright, wasn't it?"

Ron spun round, a look of horror on his face. Draco ploughed relentlessly on. "I suppose she struggled a bit while he wasn't working, with you lot and all your hangers-on. Beats me why she doesn't just push you all out of that pigsty - send you to boarding school or..."

Ron was purple. "You shut up about my Mum, or... Say Malfoy, how's your Mum coping?"

Draco started turning pink. His mother didn't care. He knew that now. Why had it taken him sixteen years to find that out?

"How come you're staying over Christmas, doesn't she want..." Draco slid his wand out. Ron blinked, but continued, "...you. Or has she got other things to do with your Dad out of the way?"

"Arachnaporta"

"Expelliarmus"

Ron's disarming hex hit the large floating spider that hovered in front of his face. His eyes opened wide, and Draco thought he was going to actually faint. Then the spell crumbled to the floor. Better do it properly then.

Ron's shield charm deflected the rapidly thrown stunners. He raised his wand in retaliation but then abruptly dropped his arm. Draco stuffed his wand back in his pocket.

"Mr Weasley, that'll be five points off Gryffindor and detention if I find you loitering down here again. Malfoy, my office please."

Snape! He turned briskly, robes swishing as he glided into his office. Am I actually in trouble? Not as if I care anyway. Draco slouched along, staring at the floor. Snape was already sitting at his desk; he lazily lifted his wand and drew a chair up as Draco entered.

"Sit Draco."

"Professor..."

"Draco, I am not concerned about the incident with Weasley. Listen. You will be facing expulsion before Christmas unless there are some drastic changes."

"Professor, I..."

"I have no interest in excuses, Mr Malfoy. Your grades are appalling - in every subject. I have received behaviour reports from every member of staff in the school, including myself. Yes Draco, when you hex Miss Granger behind her back during potions, I write out a formal report. How many times have you received detention this term?"

Draco looked at the desk. "Six," he mumbled.

"Six." It was the Snape equivalent of a shout, his voice silky and low. "Draco, I know about adolescence, I know where your father is - yes, I even know what your mother is doing in his absence. Right now, the only thing you should be concerned about is your grades."

*

Adolescence. Bloody adolescence. He doesn't know what he's talking about, I was over with all that years ago. Draco stormed into the common room and straight to his dormitory, hearing someone say as he passed, "What's eating him?" That was Pansy. He ignored her, throwing himself through the door and onto his bed where he lay, staring at the ceiling. Let them wonder, he didn't care.

Why had he said it? Draco had sat and stared at the table, Snape's words sliding unheard past him. For the past five years he had tried to emulate Snape. He was the keenest mind in Britain, and one of the most powerful wizards ever. It was a privilege to be one of his students. Now, of course, he realised he had been silly. He was far too stupid to think of being like Severus Snape. How could he ever be anything with a father like Lucius Malfoy? And his mother, he thought she had been intelligent once, but now she was clearly off her rocker.

So why had he said it? The word had just popped into his mind. Snape had stopped talking. Draco looked up into the silence and met his eyes.

"Professor, will you teach me Subneorancia?"

Snape looked startled. "Where did you hear about that?"

"I...uh read it in the library." Confessing that he had overheard Granger muttering to herself would not be a good move. Especially as he had been crouching behind the library shelves, about to jump out and give her a fright. Especially (and some things he tried to deny even to himself) as he had first been distracted by the light catching the strands of hair that just wouldn't be tamed, and then realised that what she was saying was really important.

"Mr Malfoy, when you have shown significant improvement..."

"You gave Potter extra tuition last year."

"When you have become something worth teaching, we will talk about it again. My timetable is rather busy just now."

Draco gradually relaxed his muscles as he gazed at the ceiling. He could feel the blood thumping above his eyes. After Christmas, he'd said. Just what is Snape so busy with anyway? Draco had drifted off to sleep long before Zabini and Nott crept upstairs. Crabbe and Goyle were still in the hospital wing.

* * * * *

Draco was a natural when it came to driving - although he insisted on having all the windows down. He actually felt quite eerie with the windows up, as if he wasn't moving at all. With the windows down it was just like being on a broomstick buzzing telephone lines - he'd been doing that since he was five.

After twenty minutes he dropped Dylan off outside the house. He was on his own. Goodness knows where his parents were - or Dylan's father either for that matter. He suspected they were having a cosy meeting inside a volcanic crater. Lucius found volcanoes very attractive, in spite of the fact that they smelt like dungbombs. Dylan's mother was a muggle - albeit a strange one. She was teaching at the local infants' school.

Is it time?

Draco clearly remembered what he'd said when Professor Snape first suggested the next step. 'Birds and flowers! I'm not doing that'.

'You'll be a better wizard for it', Snape had replied.

The little car hummed along. Apparating was faster, but this was fun. The hill Dylan told him about appeared on his left. There was a turning just past the hill proper - too late. Draco would have spun the car but Dylan had warned him, "Dad and I, we're the only wizards in the country. Don't do anything silly, the Australian ministry can be a bit tricky." That was true enough, Draco had heard some funny stories about the Australian wizards since arriving here a week ago. They seemed obsessed with nature, studying earth patterns to an extent unheard of in Britain - until he started studying Subneorancia. He wondered whether a New Zealand ministry would be the same. Nearly all New Zealand wizards were Maori, and none had ever returned after attending school 'across the ditch', deep in the Australian desert.

Is that what you want? To find the earth spirits and learn shamanism. Dumbledore had said that it was a powerful, ancient magic. Draco would have dismissed it; everyone knew Dumbledore was a bit funny in the head after all, if it hadn't been for Snape's counsel.

Draco set his eyes on the jagged peaks straight ahead. Only half an hour and he'd be there.

* * * * *

Draco sauntered downstairs with Zabini and Pansy the next morning. Pansy howled with laughter when she saw Luna Lovegood ahead of them - she had her wand behind her ear as usual and was wearing a black cat that blinked and yawned as her head bobbed up and down. Draco nudged her, "You're a prefect - don't laugh, points." Draco and Blaise tried to hide their grins as Pansy caught up with Luna. The 'cat hat' uncurled, jumped down and streaked off in the direction of the Ravenclaw tower.

"You didn't take any points," Blaise Zabini said when Pansy returned.

"No, she said it was hatching kittens. She's going to keep one for me if there's any girls." Pansy cast an admiring glance in the direction the cat had gone. "Only one problem - Ginny Weasley invited her over for the holidays and she thinks it might've been that horrible ginger cat of Granger's that was with her." Pansy was still talking about 'her kitten' when the three sat down together at the Slytherin table.

"Say, you'll have to see Malfoy Manor some time," Draco said, sprinkling a tablespoon of sugar on his porridge. "I've never been allowed to bring my pets to school, Mother has to look after them during term time."

"Hey, I always wondered who those snakes were in your photos," Blaise said. "Most folks have their family on their dressing table."

Pansy finished her breakfast quickly and stood up. "We're learning about the phoenix in Care of Magical Creatures this morning. D'you want to tag along?"

"No thanks Pansy, I've better things to do in my free time. I'm going to the library." Draco left Pansy and Blaise staring at each other, mouths open.

"Something is eating him," said Pansy.

*

Draco moved swiftly to the table Hermione Granger had been sitting at the previous Saturday. Her books had long since been cleared but he knew a useful little spell - and as he'd hoped, no-one had used the desk since. He whispered 'Priori objet', and scribbled down the titles and authors as their vague outlines appeared.

"Mr Malfoy, we put in a catalogue system last year." Madam Pince, the librarian was standing behind him. "I can show you how to use that if you're looking for something."

Draco waved haughtily. "I'm sure I'll figure it out when I need to." He did have second thoughts when she'd left though; a catalogue in a library could be very useful.

He checked the shelves till he found a title that matched the appearance of the book she'd been reading - a lilac bound, 10-inch thick tome with fragile yellowing parchment. Now it was about two thirds of the way... he opened the book at little more than half way and started hurriedly skimming the pages. He felt better than he had done for weeks. Must be the absence of those big oafs. You need someone a bit more in line with your own intellect. It had been fun, being with Pansy and Blaise.

Twenty minutes later he found it. He remembered how Granger had started, as though she'd been stung. She'd leaned forward - she does need glasses, doesn't she? - and started reading in a soft voice:

Subneorancia is the ancient art of earth magic. It is a simple form of the more advanced Neorancia and draws from the powers that created the substance of the earth, the herbs and every animal or being there-on. Mostly forgotten nowadays, it is rarely practised and fully understood by only a few of the most distinguished wizards of our time...

He glanced at the front cover of the book. Even he had heard of the witch who wrote it, despite sleeping through nearly every History of Magic class he'd ever attended. Alice Jane Black was near the top of his mother's genealogy chart at home. She had led a small band of wizards who founded a commune deep in the Scottish Highlands. After her death it had been broken up, and the vision behind this drastic move had never been fully understood. Draco had thought it was her solution to the witch hunts and the dangers of intermarriage with muggles. She'd lived in the early 1700's. He continued reading:

Those wizards who practise this magic regularly find their abilities to accomplish all other forms of magic are enhanced. As a rule their manner of working becomes very precise, their innate magical power increases four fold and they retain a control of their thoughts far beyond that of an ordinary wizard. Some, not all, of this group see visions. They advise common wizards in such things as world politics, child rearing and planning for the future. Subneorancia is within the reach of all wizards and Neorancia can be attained by those who are slightly above average intelligence and who have considerable determination. It is unfortunate that the art is likely to die out among wizards due to mere lack of application.

Now what? Draco skimmed the rest of the chapter, but that was all. Most of the book consisted of mundane information about common weeds and their medicinal uses. How am I to know she wasn't crazy when she wrote this? He scanned the other titles he'd written down but they did not seem to be related to the subject.

Perhaps it was time to find that catalogue. Probably no-one in the school had ever heard of Neorancia. It would take the rest of the year if he tried to find it from titles on the shelves.

*

Madam Pince scowled at him when he asked for the books - apparently some of them had been placed in the restricted section when Phineas Nigellus Black was headmaster. But she allowed him to have them. He took them back to Granger's usual study desk and started reading one of the most recently written ones - not much more than a scroll of parchment as it was. Near the start his eyes caught a familiar name.

Neorancia was made famous in the 1700's by one of its most notable practitioners, Miss Alice Jane Black (later McGonagall). Today it is believed there are only two wizards in Britain who have studied this almost dead art. These are Albus Dumbledore, current Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and his acolyte, Severus Snape.

Snape could do Neorancia! Draco packed all the books into his bag and left. He had almost an hour until his next class, and he'd developed a sudden urge to see how Crabbe and Goyle were getting on.

* * * * *