Montane Hope

Chapter 7 (of 16)

Outside Dumbledore's office they came to an abrupt halt. It was after nine at night, surely he didn't sleep in his office. Draco shouted every possible password he could think of at the gargoyle that guarded the entrance. Nothing happened. Pansy stepped forward. She said nothing, but her eyes narrowed and her forehead furrowed into deep frown lines the way it used to when she was casting a spell. The gargoyle started to slide open.

Draco spun round as a cheery voice humming an old nursery rhyme floated down the corridor towards them. Dumbledore was dressed in a dressing gown and night cap but his eyes twinkled as if he was as wide awake as ever. "Why, Miss Parkinson," he said as he approached the small group. "You are trying to enter my office illegally." He turned to face the gargoyle and said clearly, "Liquorice Allsorts." Draco looked at him blankly. The gargoyle sprang open and Dumbledore strode forward, turning on the stair to beckon them up.

"I really will have to improve the security," he said. "First students guess my passwords, then they overcome my gargoyle through concentration - no good, no good at all." He sat down and looked at them. Fawkes the phoenix was sleeping, his head tucked under his wing. "You must have had a reason for wanting to break into my office. What is it you wanted to tell me?"

Draco looked at the floor and Blaise looked at Pansy. "It's Granger and Potter," she began diffidently. "They're trapped in a cave, injured and possibly wandless."

Dumbledore leaned forward eagerly. 'Tell me. What do you know?"

Pansy began to tell what she had seen, her eyes distant as if she was visualising everything again, inside her head. She finished by pleading with Dumbledore not to tell Trelawney about the crystal ball.

"Not if you return it immediately," said Dumbledore. "I'll see to it that you get another. Powers of discernment like yours are too useful to not encourage." He walked over to the cage and whispered something in Fawkes' ear. The phoenix shook his head and ruffled his wings, then picked up a package that Dumbledore conjured and flew up through the roof.

"Food," explained Dumbledore. "No better stuff when you've been stuck in a cave for two days. In fact, I'm sure you three wouldn't say no to a snack either." He conjured a tray of pumpkin cake, ham sandwiches and Mikado biscuits. "A Muggle treat from Ireland," he explained of this last, adding a jug of sparkling Cidona and another of pumpkin juice. "Travel certainly broadens the waist - if not the mind." Draco found the Cidona delicious, it was a sharp-flavoured, sparkling apple juice.

*

Towards the morning (perhaps it was the rich food) Draco dreamed of a girl with bright purple hair who was referred to as Nymphadora Tonks. She cried and hugged Granger and Potter, and blew kisses to Fawkes. "We're going to seal that place off," she said firmly. "You're not to go down there again, not on any account." Draco started when he turned and saw a face that had once been unpleasantly familiar. Alastor Moody had been their Defence against the Dark Arts teacher in fourth year, but it turned out it wasn't him at all and - oh, it was all very confusing. Draco for one had been very glad to see the back of him at the end of the year.

When he woke a thin winter light was filtering through the roof. Pansy must have bewitched this place last night, he thought. It reminded him of home, having windows. He got dressed and ran to find Lisa.

* * * * *

Draco guessed it was afternoon. It was pleasantly cool among the trees, but the sun shone warmly through the canopy wherever the growth was a little thin, bathing tree trunks and rocks in a strong yellow light. Draco stopped a little further on and sat down, almost falling asleep, as he listened to the birds and the rustling leaves.

A little bird called chuck-chuck-chuck chooee, chuck-chuck-chuck-chooee, over and over again. He listened to the other tweets and chirps, hoping to hear the distinctive call of the tui. It wasn't there. For a little while a fantail had soundlessly fluttered along the path in front of him. It almost seemed to know him it was so friendly, and he'd wondered for a few minutes if it was the one from the farm.

When he moved on again he noticed the strong leg muscles working as he planted each foot firmly on the ground, moving rhythmically. It felt good to stretch his legs. Since leaving Hogwarts he'd had no time or space to practice Lisa's routines. The trees were gliding swiftly by at this pace, occasionally marked with plastic orange triangles to show the path.

A few minutes later he slowed down again - the path was completely blocked by a fallen tree. Stepping over the first two limbs, he found the head of the tree almost impassable. A curving trodden path showed where Muggles had detoured round it. He followed their footprints, bending to lift a strand of the creeper so that he could walk under it, back onto the path. The supple jack resisted being moved, and Draco stared as he noticed the little joints where it changed direction. Like a spider's leg - exactly like - the joints started close together and then spaced themselves slightly as they got farther away from the direction change. He stepped over the creeper and continued uphill.

* * * * *

It was the following Monday before any of the missing Gryffindors returned. Draco caught sight of pink hair in the Hogwarts grounds later that day, but only for an instant. He never knew whether it had been the Nymphadora girl returning to the school with them or not. Pretty name. He suspected she was a metamorphmagus - some of them thought it was quite funny to change their appearance on whim. It had been in his mother's family - just occasionally a metamorphmagus turned up among the Blacks, but he hadn't heard of one in the last few generations.

*

"Are you still worrying about that cellar, Harry? It'll be okay, the Order saw to that for us."

Potter put his head down on the library table so that the reply was muffled.

"Vol -mort - power - 'zard. Won' stop." He lifted his head again. "How are we to know that he's not controlling some of those creatures. We still don't know everything that's down there."

"Harry," hissed Granger, glancing round at Draco. Draco smirked at her, pretending he wasn't interested in anything they had to say.

"You've beaten him before Harry, you will do it again. I know you will." Her voice was low and clear. She was the easiest person in the school to eavesdrop on.

"I had help then. And when he came back..." Potter swallowed, pausing for a moment. "If it hadn't been for our wands being partners, he'd have killed me then."

"Harry, you're the best person in the school at Defence against the Dark Arts. You'll be okay. The Order will come as soon as they know Lord... You-Know-Who is on his way." Granger bit her lip anxiously. Even Weasel looked worried - really worried. Draco turned the pages of his book, as if totally absorbed in "Ridiculously Difficult Potions for Newts."

About five minutes later Granger shut the book she was looking at with a loud crash, so that Draco looked up curiously. "Let's go practise some of this stuff. I don't think I'll be happy till we've all learned it. Fawkes might not be there to find your wand next time, and you never know when you might have to face Voldemort without it, after all." Draco winced at the name, and several of the other students interrupted their studies to watch the three Gryffindors leave. Madam Pince heaved a sigh of relief when they were gone.

Draco returned to his studying, but his mind skimmed the pages without taking anything in. He would have liked to follow them to see what they were doing. What sort of magic could protect an unarmed wizard against someone with a wand?

*

By the time Draco arrived at Snape's office that evening he felt physically and mentally exhausted. Since lunch-time he had been going over things in his head, wondering what Potter, Granger and Weasley were planning. Between sneaking out of the castle to feed spiders, the house with the strange caves underneath; and now they were talking about fighting the Dark Lord without wands - none of it made sense. Then Lisa chattered almost non-stop during Arithmancy, later spending a full forty minutes on one of her routines which made them both late for dinner. Instead of relaxing after the exercise and food, his mind had gone into overdrive again wondering what Potter and his side-kicks were up to.

Snape was already there waiting. He looked down his nose as Draco opened the door, a look Draco still found rather disconcerting. It made him feel rather small and slug-like, even though he knew Snape looked at every-one the same way - or worse. He could thank his lucky stars he wasn't Potter.

"Dumbledore tells me you have mastered the rudiments of occlumency, both probing and concealing," Snape barked at him as he sat down.

Draco nodded.

"I don't, personally, believe anything until I see it for myself." Snape looked very sharply at him. "Therefore, we will spend the first fifteen minutes - we only have half an hour - on that. The more you co-operate during the time we have, the faster you will learn. Legilimens"

The spell hit Draco before he had expected it. He could visualise his thoughts running for cover as Snape probed - it felt as though he'd inserted a sharp knife into his skull and started twisting. Before he expected it, the spell lifted.

"I see Dumbledore has been far too gentle with you. Nevertheless, you do have good control. You are wasting your time eavesdropping on the Dream Team, it will just confuse you. Come to me if you have questions of that nature."

Snape repeated the exercise twice more. Each time Draco was ready, although under Snape's relentless probing the effort was exhausting. Snippets of thought seemed to willingly unravel before Snape's eyes so that concealing them was taking all of his attention.

Eventually Draco was permitted to check out Snape's thoughts. As with Dumbledore, he quickly found thoughts that had been placed purposely for him to find. Dumbledore left things lying around that made him laugh so hard that it sometimes took a couple of minutes to compose himself and conceal his thoughts again. Snape left the ingredients and directions for mixing up Polyjuice Potion in the front of his brain, then told him off for getting so engrossed in it (Draco had always wanted to know how to make Polyjuice Potion) that he forgot to probe further.

Finally Snape stood up and drew some symbols on the blackboard that ran along one wall of his office. "Subneorancia is not a branch of magic for idiots or children. You will learn the major elements that empower the soul. You will learn; not to control them, but to respect and utilise them. These elements are Earth, Air, Fire and Water. Subneorancia is a discipline of mind, not of wand. It will assist you in regular wand magic, and as you advance, it will begin to unravel the mysteries of the universe to your understanding - if you are ready for it."

He sat down on his desk, looking down on Draco's head. "Never since I have been at this school has a student asked to learn Subneorancia, although I have taught Potions to a few who would have done very well in the discipline. This year two students have asked to learn. Of all the students that I have ever met, you and Miss Granger are the least likely to ever master this skill. Mastering Subneorancia means directing your thoughts, actions and feelings to be in tune with the basic elements. No-one can do this who does not have a strong character trait of humility and respect. Neither you nor Miss Granger have a humble bone in your bodies."

Draco refused to lower his eyes. What was the point of telling him he wasn't going to learn? Did Snape want him to give up?

"As you're here," continued Snape, in a bored-sounding tone, 'we'd better start with Earth." He led Draco to a large glass tank which contained - earth - arranged as it would look if a person were to dig from the top soil to about 30 feet under the surface. Despite himself, Draco found himself becoming really interested. Snape was explaining the elemental form of soil and rock, the structure with which it composed itself and its capacities for supporting life under and on its surface.

"Miss Granger," he acknowledged when she entered, but made no further sign that she was there. By the time Draco left she had been there ten minutes. She looked even more tired than Draco felt.

* * * * *

It was beautiful. Draco stood on top of the mountain with the wind blowing fiercely in his face, making his eyes water. He could see the sea, he could see more mountains. Dotted on the farmland below were little towns and winding rivers and solid little barns and farm steadings. He couldn't find the landmarks to pick out Dylan's farm - it was all so vast and the farm too small. The far distance was obscured by heat haze. Over by the sea the top half of a small hill stood with half of its outline sharp above the haze and the rest blurred or invisible below. The wind whipped and tore at the trees on top of the hill. He was standing on the highest peak of a mountain that was its own range of mountains. Looking down into the valleys gum trees rose tall and bare, tree fern, beech and palm coated the hillside as firmly as one of his blankets did on a freshly made bed.

The sun was shining warmly in spite of it being winter and Draco felt once again the cool calm of the bush as he turned onto the downhill track. The wind seemed to have whipped the last of his energy out of him. It was now mid-afternoon and his stomach felt like an empty, gaping hollow.

Dylan hated wind. He'd shown Draco a lopsided tree that had had most of its crown broken, leaving only two small branches intact. It had been a large shade tree, a walnut that once spread its branches thirty feet from the trunk. Underneath the grass was sparse where the cows had gathered to get out of the sun. Dylan told him that in summer the sun became intensely bright and hot, like sitting right up next to a fire. Draco wasn't sure whether to believe him or not. If it wasn't for the bare-stemmed walnut trees, he wouldn't know it was winter. Days like today started off cold but became as warm as or warmer than the British summer by the afternoon.

In the hills around Hogwarts the wind whistled and blew most of the time. Some students said that there were banshees in the wind. Dylan just didn't like it because it ruffled his hair and blew things away. He didn't really know what wind was.

Among the trees there was little wind, only a gentle whispering above as it played with the twigs and leaves in the top of the canopy. "Learn to feel emotion, Draco," Dumbledore had said. It seemed like years ago. "When you are alone, in the presence of Nature you need to open your mind and feel what the elements are trying to tell you. When you allow yourself to feel the power you will find that you want to return to these places often."

Draco found that this less-used path had a more 'green' feel to it than the one he had climbed up. Where men walk, the power of the earth is lessened. Each footstep surely marks the ground, stifling the natural powers with the profane thoughts of people. Perhaps that was why he was never able to find this sort of natural peace at school. He touched the trees often, occasionally brushing the back of his hand along a fern, or the light leaves of a rata climber. Some of the books talked of 'nature spirits', but he didn't think that was right. A presence there was certainly, but not so powerful that it could be called a faery, or being. He was quite sure Hermione Granger wouldn't believe in faeries.

Coming to a young tree, he stopped and placed both hands on its trunk. The bark vibrated slightly between his hands, as he visualised a globe of wispy, bluish smoke pulsing inside the tree. As he had been taught, he acknowledged the spirit in his mind, accepting that it was there. Neither good nor bad, just there. What does my spirit look like? Still touching the tree, he turned his thoughts inwards. A pillar of red light appeared behind his eyes, reaching the ground and towering far taller than himself. Red? Of all the colours that might have been, I didn't think it would be red. Compared to this light the tree spirit was nothing. Yet he felt no pride in that. Before he had climbed the hill, perhaps. But now he saw only two beings with different abilities and destiny, yet each with the same right to be. He touched other trees, finding some spirits stronger, some weaker. Some were more green and older trees often faint and almost grey. Later he touched stones, even picked them up. He could not detect any innate power. Not that they had none, simply that he was not yet sensitive enough to detect it.

What then, would the elemental power look like? He sat on a rock and thought, concentrating on the memory of the wind that had blown hard in his face when he stood on top of the hill. A power that could damage trees and buildings, blow ships off course and scream like a banshee. He thought of the heavy, oppressive atmosphere of open spaces and how light and gentle it seemed under the trees. Only two or three minutes later the winds gathered in his mind, twisting and floating. Icy blue and glowing, an orb that filled the space behind his eyes and extended out, through the wood. The power was exceedingly great - larger than anything he had visualised before.

He leaned back, feeling the cool stone under his head and back, allowing the vision to dissipate gently into the element from which it came. Then he stood up slowly and continued, lowering himself with his arms down the steep rocks and tree roots.