Harry Potter and the Song of Time

Harry Potter and the Song of Time
by Crazy Ivan

Chapter Six: Draco Vivens


Harry, Draco and Ron walked through the Reading Room of the Muggle University's St Salvator's Quadrangle, books and quills in hand, and, tapping on the brick indicated by the Institute booklet, found themselves in a long curving corridor with canary yellow on the walls, floor and ceiling.

"Following the yellow sodding brick road," Harry mumbled.
"What?" Ron asked.
"Never mind," Harry said.

"Institute, This Way" was painted above a pointing finger. They followed the finger around the corridor for what seemed like ten minutes until they emerged into another corridor, painted an eye-jarring puce. A large door marked "Room 28" faced them, and Draco pushed it open.

Inside, steps led down through several sloped rows of seats behind desks. At the front was a large whiteboard bordered in green. Draco assumed an Engorgement spell automatically added places to the room when people arrived. He, Harry and Ron took seats near the whiteboard at one end of the room and looked around them. Wizards and witches of every nation were represented and were talking in more languages than Draco had ever heard. He smiled at a short witch next to him wearing what he assumed was African traditional dress. He had to admit, it was gorgeous. The block patterns emphasised the range of colors in it -- every color of the rainbow and others he didn't know could be dyed into clothes.

"Hello," he said with a smile. "I'm Draco Malfoy."
"Martha Mkenyo," she said in a deep, lilting contralto, holding out her hand. "Pleased to meet you, Draco. Are you a Magid?"
Draco nodded. "Yes. You?"
"Yeah. I was getting some training back home in Kenya, but my teacher was less powerful than I am, so she thought it would be best if I went away to the Institute."
"Where did you go to school?" Draco asked, pleasantly surprised at how well he was doing at smalltalk.
"Lake Naivasha in Kenya," Martha said. "It was a lot of fun. How 'bout you?"
"Hogwarts. It was fun too. Apart from the whole Voldemort Thing. That wasn't fun."
"Yeah, we had to deal with one of those sort ourselves," Martha empathised. "No fun."

Their discourse was interrupted by the arrival of a tall, grey-haired wizard at the front of the classroom. "I assume this is Introductory Magid Powers and Magid Studies?" he asked. Everyone nodded. "Excellent. It was either that or Fourth Year Knitting and its Influences on the Modern World. I am Dr Adamson, Course Coordinator for this module. I'll be passing around a piece of parchment, to which you should all sign your names and term addresses. Oh, and next of kin. That's particularly important. This being the Institute, we won't learn those from the bureaucracy until Week 10, and we might need to contact your relatives before then. Now," he began, tapping the top piece of a pile of paper with his wand and waving it smartly at the whiteboard, which zapped the contents of the piece of paper up on the wall, "this is Magid Theory. If your degree plans do not involve Magid Theory, please leave the airplane by the front door." Chuckles rolled around the room among those of Muggle upbringing, while several less-widely travelled wizards and witches looked a trifle puzzled.

"What is a Magid? Well, as most ordinary wizards see it, a Magid is just a powerful wizard with a very strong Will. That's not too far from the truth, but there are certain significant ways in which Magids do differ from ordinary wizards."

He tapped the next piece of paper, and the image on the board changed to "Differences between Magids and Ordinary Wizards"

"Magid power is drawn from elemental forces, and is not focused using wands. In fact, the power itself is not visible in any spectra of visible light unless you're a vampire. That's very important to realise -- there won't be any sparks, flashy lights or bubbles to show your power. You might see things happening as a result of the power, such as seas moving, rain falling, people flying through the air et cetera, but the actual power itself is invisible."

He tapped the stack again and "Magid Elemental Forces" appeared on the board.

"There are five Magid Elemental Forces. You may hear these referred to as 'MEF's or 'Forces' in literature. They are Sky, Sea, Earth, Fire and Life, and Sky roughly equates to air and non-precipitation weather; Sea to water and precipitation weather; Earth to soil, earthquakes, rocks and that sort of thing -- oh, and lava with Fire; Fire is basically fire, as well as lava with Earth; and Earth is all living things. You may have realised that they are most often combined -- Sky and Sea to make a hurricane, Earth and Fire to make a volcano, Sea, Earth and Life to make a plant grow, Sky and Fire to make a firestorm, and so on and so forth. You get the drift."

The image on the board shifted again. "Usual MEF combinations"

"So, you say, can I as a young, bright-tailed and bushy-eyed first-year Magid use all of them? Well, I've been here for a century and I can't use all of them. It's simply a matter of innate talent. You can't become proficient at a mef simply by reading about it, although there are instances where a Magid has, through years of research into a mef, been able to gain some ability in it, although nothing like as strongly as an innate talent. The usual broad -- and I mean very broad -- classifications are Sea and Sky as feminine mefs, Earth and Fire as masculine mefs, and Life as either. However, some notable exceptions occur -- Albus Dumbledore, for instance, has innate talents in all but Sky."

The next page was entitled "Schedule for Semester 1".

"Unfortunately for you, but fortunately for everyone who might be affected by your powers, you will not be instructed in the actual use of your powers until after Reading Week -- that's week 7 for those of you who haven't read the piles of literature you've been given. This is for the very good reason that we don't particularly want you blasting apart bits of St Andrews in your excitement. In fact, before you leave this room, the teaching team will, I'm afraid, have to put a bottleneck on your capabilities until then. This will, as I know from a hundred years of prior experience, prevent you from any embarrassing incidents. Ah, I see from the red faces around the room that some of you have already experienced a coital explosion or two. I do hope nobody you liked was injured."

Adamson looked around the room. "Right, since we do have to bottleneck you, that's as much of a lecture as you get today. However, please read the Introduction and Chapter 1 of Magids, Theory and Practice before tomorrow's lecture. Dr Hubble will be basing her lecture significantly around that. Any questions? No, all right. Would you please exit from the closest door to you. The teaching staff will be waiting outside to perform the bottleneck on each of you."

Nobody moved. "That's it. Off you go," Adamson said as a witch and two wizards walked in almost simultaneously. "Oh, incidentally," he remarked, pointing at the woman, who had long black hair tied at the nape falling down her back, "this is Dr Mildred Hubble, Lecturer in the Sky Force." He indicated the other men. "Professors Horatio Norton, Sea, and Ignatius Flamel, Fire. Professor Hiroko Aikatsu, Life Force, is in the middle of an important experiment concerning an elephant at the moment and so cannot be here. Right, first victim!"

People began to stand and shuffle towards the doors. Draco heard a blonde girl remarking in an American accent, "Like, I can't see why they have to put these stupid things on us, y'know? Like we're gonna go do stuff with our powers. It's so dumb!"

Draco rolled his eyes at Harry, who was walking towards another girl as if he knew her. "Minty?" he heard Harry ask. Craning his ears forward, he listened in to the conversation.
"Yes? Oh, wotcha Harry."
Wotcha? Does anyone use words like that any more? Draco thought, eyebrows raised.
Harry introduced the girl to Ron, and Draco turned aside to Martha Mkenyo, who was waiting in line next to him. "Where are you living in St Andrews?" he asked in a small-talky sort of way as they shuffled closer to the front of the room and Dr Hubble's door.
"The Kenyan Ministry of Magic owns a large house out on Largo Road," Martha explained. "All Kenyan students live there for at least their first year, and they can either stay there in subsequent years or find their own private accommodation."
"Er...not to sound foolish, but where's Largo Road?"
"Ages away, about twenty minutes' walk from here. There's a bus...do you know where the big Safeway supermarket is on the outskirts of town?"
"General idea of the area, yes."
"Right, head that way for twenty minutes on foot. The distance is a bit annoying, but it's nice and quiet and the neighbours don't ask what you're doing in the garden, that sorta thing." Martha searched her bag for a scrap of paper and scribbled down her address. "There you go, 44 Largo Road. Do drop by for tea or something. I'm sure the warden won't mind."
"Certainly, if I can find it," Draco said with a smile.
Martha beamed at him. "Great. Oh, excuse me, Draco, I spot one of my housemates. I must go tell him to avoid lunch. Cook was making a rather pungent stew as I was leaving."

Martha started to clamber over the line of chairs to the other line where a tall black wizard was waving to her. Draco turned back to Harry, who had just tapped him on the shoulder.

"Draco, this is Minty Hemberley. We ran into each other while I was registering and she was re-registering," Harry said with that open, friendly grin of his. "Minty, this is Draco Malfoy. We go way back at Hogwarts."

"Yes, if I remember correctly, I tried to have you expelled for at least four years," Draco said, smiling. "Minty...that's an interesting name."
He sized the girl up. She looked very down-to-earth, almost farmer-like in her clothing, a pair of worn jeans and a rustic-looking cream woollen jumper over a somewhat garish lumberjack shirt. Her mass of curly red hair fell back in a rather ineffectual ponytail which bushed out beneath the tieback elastic. Weasley must think he's spotted a millionaire, Draco thought, and then sighed. A bit uncharitable, no? he asked himself.

"It's short for Araminta," Minty explained. "The 1960s happened to my parents."
Draco raised his head knowingly. "I see. Where are you from? I don't remember seeing you at Hogwarts..."
"That's hardly surprising. I am 26 years old, after all. I probably graduated before you arrived."
"You don't look 26," Draco said reflexively.
"Ah, isn't he nice," she said, punching him lightly on the shoulder. "My Magid power matured later than normal -- I was 25 before the explodey-things started."
"Ah, those explodey-things..." Harry mused quietly.

Their chat was interrupted as Draco was called forwards to receive the bottleneck of his powers. Dr Hubble, the only teaching witch in the room, motioned him forwards in a businesslike manner.
"Come along now," she said, placing her fingers around his forehead and temples and closing her eyes. Draco felt a slight pressure inside his head, which snapped away suddenly as he mentally prodded at it. He looked up at the tall witch, who was staring wide-eyed at him.
"What's your name?" she asked very quietly.
"Draco Malfoy," Draco replied bemusedly.
"Well, Mr Malfoy, you're a very strong one. Let's try that bottleneck again, only please relax and don't attempt to fight the bottleneck."
Draco apologised, looking somewhat sheepish.
"It's all right, I was just a little surprised. Anyway..." she placed her fingers on his head again and Draco felt the pressure going downwards through his head into his upper neck, and then the pressure was gone. "That's it," Dr Hubble said. "Off you go now."

Rubbing the back of his neck, which was a little sore, Draco walked out the door into an ultramarine blue corridor and leaned against the wall to wait for the others. Ron walked out first, followed shortly by Minty, who was rubbing the back of her neck.
"I s'pose it's got something to do with the location of your Magid Powers," Ron surmised, since as a non-Magid he'd not had the bottleneck done.
"Must do," Minty said absorbedly. Ron leaned against the wall next to Draco.
"So, Draco, who's the bird?"
"Bird, Weasley? Which bird would that be?"
"The one sitting next to you in the lecture, who you were talking to afterwards. You know, the one in the fancy dress."
"If you must know, that was an African tribal kikoye and dress from Kenya. The bird's name is Martha Mkenyo, and she's from Kenya."
"First name terms, eh, Draco? Getting a little bit jiggy with her?"
"First of all, Weasley, I am not 'getting jiggy' with anybody at the moment. Secondly, I can't recall the time you had a girlfriend since we were fifteen. And thirdly, were I to be 'getting jiggy' with anybody, you'd be the last to know." Draco paused. "Well, perhaps Hagrid would be the last to know. Or maybe Argus Filch. Anyway," he continued, "as the Americans say, 'butt out'."
"Bloody hell," Minty observed, "'ee can tell that you went to school together."

The moment that was reminding them all of being back in school ended as Harry walked out stooped over, grasping the back of his neck in pain.

"Harry?" Ron sounded very worried.
"S'okay," Harry muttered, but didn't object when Ron took his bag of parchment and quills from him.
"Seriously, what's wrong?" he asked as Minty and Draco looked on concernedly.
"Bottleneck. Hurts. Like I've slept on it for a month without turning over."
"Here," Minty said, moving behind Harry and starting to knead his neck and shoulders with her strong hands. "Move your head forwards. Now back. Left. Right. Forwards again."
"Remember who you have waiting for you back home, Potter," Draco warned bitingly.
"Draco, is it my imagination, or are you attempting to get someone to strangle you. Because if you are, I'd be only happy to help," Minty said obligingly. "Since Harry's neck's a little stiff, you understand."
"That's not the only--" Draco began.
"Shut it, Draco," Harry growled.

* * *

The next few weeks passed in a blur of quills, parchment and musty old books on Short Loan from the Institute's well-stocked but bizarrely-catalogued library, where Hermione was working in order to get the extra credits which allowed her to take first and second year Arithmancy in one year.

"I don't know how you manage it," Harry was saying to her as Draco walked into the kitchen one evening to find Harry obscured behind Momentous Magids and a bowl of pasta and Hermione leafing through rolls and rolls of parchment, obviously looking for some piece of information. He served himself from the bowl in the centre of the table and sat down next to Harry, pulling out a list of names and dates to learn for their tutorial the next day.
"Manage what?" Hermione said.
"Well, two classes in the morning and then Librarian Studies three afternoons a week, for one," Harry said between a mouthful of pasta.
"Honestly, Harry, it's hardly as much work as NEWTs were," she said as she scrolled through the parchment. "I don't even have to get up before ten here."
"It's bizarre, isn't it?" Draco broke in. "You go through school waking up between seven and eight for seven years without much of a complaint, and now you get to university and find that having a ten o'clock lecture is early."
"Mmm," Hermione said. "Of course, going to bed at three a.m. isn't exactly conducive to getting up at seven or eight..." She gave Harry a significant sort of look, making him blush scarlet. Draco raised an inquisitive eye, but decided on impulse to refrain from wondering aloud what going to bed at three a.m. was conducive to.
"Er, yes. Anyway, Harry, looking forward to the Classification tomorrow?" Draco poured himself a glass of Montepulciano D'Abruzzo from the bottle on the table and sipped at it.
"Yes, I am," Harry said as he spread parmesan on his pasta. "I was reading up on the Institute's texts about the process. It'll apparently be the first time that we get to visit the Ivory Tower -- the photographs I've seen of it are fantastic."
"Oh, there's a great description and some wonderful pictures of it in A Millennium At The Institute," Hermione put in. "All that granite intertwined with the quartz and obsidian...I'd love to see it."
"Where is it, geographically, I mean?" Draco asked.
"No clue, and none of the books say either," Hermione said. "It's supposed to be something of a secret."
"Ah..." Harry said. "That sounds just up our street."
"Oh, don't bother, Harry," Hermione said. "It's probably like Malfoy Mansion, it moves around. Draco, tell me more about this Classification thing. It sounded like it had a really big capital letter, so it must be important."
"Well, it is," Draco said. "It's essentially where we Magids get sorted into ability- and force-based groups. It's done on a percentile basis of all powers of all known Magids. To be accepted into the Institute, you must show at least a 60th percentile ability in at least one Magid Elemental Force. Harry and I, apparently, score above in all five of them."

Hermione turned to Harry accusingly. "And you were worried about me taking on too much!"
"Relax, Hermione," Harry said. "The plan is that we take one extra year to complete our sub-Honours. That will theoretically mean two years of three Forces and one year of two Forces."
"Yes," Draco said, "and since we're the only two people in this position for ten years, it's not like they have a whole load of people doing the same thing."
"So what does this Classification involve?" Hermione asked.
"It's apparently this great ceremony," Harry said, gesturing with his hands. "The five most powerful Magids in each Force all sit at the top of the Ivory Tower in a circle and attempt to draw as much power as possible through each Candidate. 60-70 percent is a Class 4, 70-80 is Class 3, 80-90 is Class 2, and 90+ is Class 1. The top five percent of each Class is A and the bottom five are B, so if I were in the seventy-third Fire percentile, I'd be 3B."
Hermione's eyes moved around the room, trying to work out all the maths involved. "I see. And is this procedure dangerous?"
"Not that I know. Of course, they'd hardly let us know if it were, would they?" Harry asked as Hermione unconsciously moved closer to him.
"That's terrifically comforting to someone who doesn't know if her boyfriend is going to come back more intelligent than a carrot," Hermione said reproachfully, prodding Harry in the arm.

Draco scraped the bottom of his bowl with a piece of bread and stood up. "Right, off to get some learning done," he said, waving his piece of parchment at them. "Nkethe Mdeyo, 1233-1589, writer of A Guide to Magid Power..." He placed the bowl on the countertop next to the sink and headed upstairs. Entering his room, he kicked off his shoes into the corner and flopped down on his bed, absentmindedly scratching the resident cat, Xander, under the chin.

Draco reached back and arranged his pillows to prop him up in a semi-sitting position while he continued to memorise the names and dates that served as triggers for his memory. "Henry Armathwaite, 1788-1995. Revolutionised the Fire MEF with his new approach in the early 1800s."

* * *

Draco awoke the next day to the light streaming through the curtains. He jumped out of bed with a glance at his clock which said "You really ought to shower now". Grabbing his towel from the radiator, he padded down the corridor and into the bathroom, showered quickly while singing to himself and, towel wrapped around his waist, grabbed his boxers and walked back out into the corridor. An appreciative-looking Kensington gave a friendly wolf-whistle from where he was leaning, pajama-bottoms-clad, against the opposite wall. "Morning," he said, eyeing Draco's chest.
"Morning," Draco said. "And don't be so obvious about lusting after my body."
"Lusting? Moi?" Kensington asked.
"Oui, toi," Draco said in a French accent that a six-year-old would have winced at.

Back in his room, he picked out his favorite shirt, the black, round-collared one with the classically understated dragon on the pocket, and the full-length, neck-clasping robe with high collar. The clock now said "You should be having breakfast by now", so he combed his hair, rubbed some hair wax into it and headed out into the corridor. Harry was descending from his own Tower and tossed a "good morning" at Draco as they met in the entrance hallway.

Scrambled eggs awaited them in the kitchen, but Siriol, their usual breakfast companion, was nowhere to be found. Xanthe Montrose walked in, dressed in a swishy skirt and bright yellow button-down shirt, as they were about halfway through their plates and forked some eggs into the middle of a bagel.
"Guys, we should be at the Transflector for the Ivory Tower in ten minutes, she said, leaning on the countertop and munching on the bagel.

Draco bolted down the rest of his breakfast and followed Harry and Xanthe out onto the road, squinting in the low morning sun. Harry called out to Minty Hemberley as she came out onto North Street from her flat, and hurried forward to meet her. Draco caught up with Xanthe and they walked together in silence as they approached the green door on Murray Park that was the entrance to the Institute's Transflector room.

Blinking to adjust his eyes to the comparative darkness, Draco smiled politely at the wizard sitting on a tall stool next to a large dial labelled with dozens of destinations such as The Ivory Tower, The Farm, Espeche Alley Transflector Centre, Vaternish, Duntulm and so on. On the floor were marked six purple circles, each large enough for a person to stand inside.
"More for the Ivory Tower?" the wizard asked them, pointing his wand expectantly at the Ivory Tower mark.
"Yes indeed," Harry said. "All four of us."

The wizard turned the dial to The Ivory Tower position and tapped a large spherical stone protruding from the wall four times. Four of the purple circles lit up as if from beneath. "Step onto the lit circles, please," the wizard said. "Just relax. This is probably your first Transflect."

With a dramatic flourish of his hand, he depressed the spherical stone into the wall. The four students saw a bright purple flash and disappeared.

"I love my job," the wizard remarked happily to the empty room.

* * *

Harry, Draco, Minty and Xanthe reappeared with a purple flash in a room very similar to the one they had just left. The only difference was the witch sitting on an identical stool. "Welcome, dears," she said. "Step off the circles now, there you go. Up the stairs and then each touch the small orange Portkeys."

They exited the Transflector room by the small door which led up a wide spiral staircase. There were no windows yet light reflected down from above, dwindling to a small round bright spot far overhead. On the first landing were several rows of Portkeys, each of a different color. These were obviously reusable Portkeys which did not travel with the person activating them. Draco watched as Harry touched one and disappeared in a swiftly-dissipating swirl of fog, followed by Xanthe and Minty. He touched the same Portkey and swirled away himself.

When he regained his vision, he was standing on top of what looked like an enormous round tabletop, obviously high in the air, because the ground was only visible far in the distance. A clear glass point which Draco remembered was called the Spire protruded about ten feet into the air from the centre of the platform, and as he watched a wizard emerged from inside, seemingly walking straight through the glass. Almost all the fifty-odd first year Magids were already seated on benches outside an inner circle of twenty-five ancient-looking chairs. The four of them hurried to one of the last empty benches, sitting next to a blonde girl who was complaining loudly to her unimpressed-looking neighbour in an American accent.

"Why are all these damn classes in the morning? Like, don't they know we're like college kids, y'know? I talked to my Mom about it, and she said to me, 'Maria Suzannah, you've just got to pick your classes better.' I tried to explain that there's like, only one class hour each year, but she didn't get it. Totally square!"

Xanthe rolled her eyes and tilted her head towards the American girl. "At times, I wish that the Atlantic had never been crossed."
"Yes," said Draco, "also when one encounters that delightful yellow plastic stuff they call 'cheese'."
"You don't like plastic cheese? It's yummy!" Xanthe said plaintively, trying to hide a smirk. "Just full of artificial goodness."

A persistent, growing chiming came from the centre of the platform, and the din caused by the students hushed to a murmur. A voice came from nowhere and said clearly, "It is traditional to stand for the entrance of the Magistrata Institutorum." Everybody looked at each other and around the platform as if expecting the Magistrata to appear at any moment. In fact, it took about five minutes before they started streaming in from the central Spire. The students rose, first in respect but then in awe. Each Quintain of the five most powerful Magids in each MEF was wearing a different color -- deep cobalt blue for Sea, sky blue for Sky, deep green for Earth, crimson for Fire and silvery grey for Life. The Quintains took their place, spreading themselves among the circle at equidistant points: the first Sky Magid was sat next to the first Sea, who was next to Earth and so on. Sky appeared again next to Life, and so it was around the circle.

"The Magistrata is Sitting. You may be seated," the disembodied voice said. "Would Honour Aaronson please approach the Spire." A witch with cropped brown hair walked confidently up to the Spire and climbed a set of spiral steps which had appeared around its exterior, culminating in a small railed platform on top of the Spire. "Honour Aaronson, are you prepared to become a Magid, with all the rights, privileges and responsibilities contained therein, and are you ready to be Classified by the Magistrata Institutorum?" the voice boomed.
"I am." Honour's voice carried to everyone on the platform.
"Sea," the voice said simply, and the five wizards in cobalt blue robes stood, raised their arms dramatically and began to attempt to channel the Power through Honour Aaronson's mind. A chime rang, which Draco knew to signify the reaching of sixty percent, the minimum level for Magid training. A second chime, a few seconds later, at seventy, and a third almost half a minute later at eighty. As the voice said "Done," the Sea Quintain lowered their hands and sat. "Class Two, Sea," the voice said.

"Sea," the voice said, and the performance was repeated. This time, however, the chime did not ring at all. "Done," the voice said, and Sea sat down again. This was repeated by the other three, of which only one, Life, chimed, and that was only once. "Class Four, Life."
"Honour Aaronson, you are hereby induced into the Fellowships of Sea and Life." A long cloak rose from the Spire, the left half colored deep blue and the right half colored silver. It draped itself around Honour's shoulders and the clasp, shaped like the Institute's Shield, closed with a snick audible to all. Grinning from ear to ear, Honour walked down and retook her seat as "India Carmichael" took her place, becoming a Fellow of Sea and Life and being covered in a deep blue and silver cloak.

After the fifth student was Classified, there was a short pause, and the American girl, Maria Suzannah, started chatting loudly to her neighbour again. "I'd just die if I didn't get classified a One, or at least an upper Two. I mean, I've already had like a ton of practice, y'know, and I could do all kindsa things with my powers."

"Would it be horribly vindictive of me to hope she's a Squib?" Draco asked the others.
"Yes. Don't let that stop you, though," Harry said with a sly grin.
"Of course. I must uphold the values instilled in my by my Malfoy heritage, right, Potter?" The corner of Draco's mouth turned up in a smile.
"As is your birthright," Harry deadpanned.

They turned away at the chime and watched another five students being Classified, and then the voice called "Araminta Hemberley". Minty stood up and rolled her eyes at Draco, Harry and Xanthe. "Wish I'd put 'Minty' on my application form," she mumbled, but shrugged and proceeded towards the Spire and the platform above it. Draco watched and listened as Minty was Classified a Three in Sea and a Two in Life.

A few students later, Draco stood as he heard his name boomed over the Tower. Willing his knees to hold up, he tried to walk formally and confidently up to the platform, succeeding mostly through force of will. As he reached the top, the voice said quietly for him alone, "Try to relax and open yourself to the Magistrata." He tried to do so, but managed only a slight lessening of his excitement and...something else. Tension, perhaps...or foreboding? He tried his usual relaxation and honing exercise, imagining himself in a 'safe area'.

* * *

He was sitting cross-legged in the long grass of a small field. The field had a tall, ancient oak tree standing in one of the corners, a narrow but deep brook with a little wooden bridge over it and a distinctly rustic-looking stile led out into the unknown, both figuratively and literally. The sun beamed down from high in a deep blue sky, and there were birds singing in the tree and flittering around the field. As he began to breathe deeply, he saw in his mind's eye five people climbing over his stile and into the field. Had he been standing, he would have fallen over in shock -- people in his field! Severus had always taught him that only a very powerful wizard would enter into another's safe area, and then only with the consent of the wizard concerned, for healing reasons, or for security checks, as had happened a couple of times at Hogwarts, but never to Draco. Standing up, Draco looked down at himself, and brushed off the grass. Holding his head high, he walked forward to meet the five strangers at the bridge.

Draco assumed that this was the Quintain of Sea, and this was confirmed by the fact that they all wore royal cobalt blue robes. Walking out onto the bridge, he smiled at them. "Hello, and welcome to my field. I really ought to get a bell or something fitted to that stile, though."

One of the Quintain muttered to her neighbour, and Draco heard only "...confident...". Draco cleared his throat as if to remind them that he could still hear them.

"Er, Mr Malfoy," the eldest wizard began, "we'd like you to open yourself to being channelled through by us. Do you understand?"
"Yes," Draco said simply, and, leaving his eyes open, completely untensed himself, allowing his brain to enter that state that he usually referred to as "idle".
Thank you, the same voice said from inside his head, and Draco immediately jerked forwards, thinking that his head was exploding. He'd never felt that much power surging through him, and surge it did, like a torrential deluge of white-hot molten metal, through every nerve and synapse in his body. He watched with apprehension as two of the Quintain exchanged nervous looks, but relaxed again as the eldest raised his hands in a signal to stop. "Very impressive, Mr Malfoy," the wizard said. "We'll be leaving now, and your next guests will be arriving soon. Ta-ra."

With that, the Quintain of Sea walked away, over the stile and out of Draco's safe area, and the sky blue-clad Quintain of Sky approached. "Greetings," their spokeswitch began.

* * *

As the Quintain of Life climbed over the stile as they left, Draco heard a disembodied voice which sounded as if it were coming from far away. "Feel free to take as long as you require to compose yourself before leaving your safe area. Time in the real world is not passing as it does here."

"Cheers," Draco said loudly, hoping that the voice could hear him. He sat down on the bridge and removed his shoes, dipping his toes into the lukewarm water and wiggling them around. He idly noticed that his toes were quite hairy and wondered if this was normal. He felt around inside his mind, where everything appeared to be in place as normal. Sliding off the bridge into the stream, he splashed upstream and got onto the banks near the stile. He clambered over and, with the usual flash of black light, he found himself standing on the Spire at the top of the Tower, surrounded by hundreds of expectant-looking people.

The usual invisible voice said, "Draco Malfoy, you are hereby induced into the Fellowships of Sea, Sky, Earth, Fire and Life." A cloak banded with all five colours swooped down and fastened itself with a quiet snick around his neck as the Tower remained silent for a split-second longer than they should have, and finally erupted in thunderous applause. Draco grinned widely and walked, head held high, back towards Harry and the others, who were applauding loudest of all. Draco felt an unusally warm and fuzzy feeling making its way up into his head -- they actually cared and were happy for him, something he'd still not become used to. Harry held up five fingers at him. Five!

* * *

The rest of the inductions passed quickly for Draco, lost in his own thoughts and only emerging as Harry too was inducted into all five Fellowships, with a One in Sea, Sky and Life, as well as a two in Earth and Fire. He suddenly realised that he didn't actually know what grade he was in each of the Fellowships, but Xanthe quickly said that she thought he'd got three Ones and two Twos, but she wasn't quite sure. He, of course, had heard nothing of it, as he was still in his safe area when they were announced.

* * *

As they Portkeyed and Transflected back to St Andrews, Draco remained aloof, thinking about what had just happened. An illusion -- that nobody could ever enter his safe area -- had been shattered, and he resolved that he would read up on this. Perhaps Hermione could recommend a book which would be of some assistance. Harry, Xanthe and Minty were chattering away, he idly noticed as they walked up the stone path to the Castle, and he followed them into the kitchen, where they noticed that it was lunchtime, so Harry whipped up some sandwiches and tall glasses of something red that he called grenadine.

"What is it, Harry?" Xanthe asked skeptically.
"Grenadine," Harry replied.
"Yes, but what's it made from? And why is it bubbing?"
"Originally, grenadine was supposed to be made from pomegranites, but it's now usually made from raspberries if memory serves. It's bubbling because I added fizzy lemonade to it."
"Ah," Xanthe said, trying some. "Great Goddess of Day and Night, talk about cavity central!"
"It is sweet," Harry admitted, "but--"
"But not as sweet as me, you were about to say," Hermione said, walking into the kitchen and giving Harry a kiss on the top of his head.
"Yetch," Draco said in mock disgust. "You just gave him Girl Disease."
"Shut up, you tart," Xanthe said, elbowing him in the ribs.
"Tart, eh? Well, if I'm a tart that makes you a big pie then, doesn't it?" Draco shot back with a sneer.
"Calling a vet, spaying needed for the two bitches at table two," Hermione said, hands over her mouth to make a booming voice. As the laughter died down, Hermione looked around at the four Magids. "Well? Isn't anyone going to tell me how they did?"

They quickly filled her in on everything that had gone on during the morning, from the Tower to the Magistrata Institutorum to the Quintains, as well as Transflecting, which she informed them (from "Historica Institutorum") was used only by the Institute. As they digested this information, Hermione gave a little squeak, looked as if she had forgotten something very important and dug around in her robes.
"Oh, thank Gods," she breathed as she extracted a tubed roll of parchment from a pocket and was about to unroll it on the table as Siriol walked in.
"Hi yall," Siriol said as she poured herself a glass of orange juice and leaned against one of the countertops. "Did you enjoy the Classification?"
"Mmm," Harry said, nodding his head. "Where is the Tower, by the way?"
"It's on Skye," Siriol said, "usual anti-Muggle charms et cetera applied, yadda yadda. You'll probably end up going there for some periods of time when your MEF-specific classes begin, Sky in particular."
"You make it sound like a hotel," Xanthe remarked.
"Not hardly. No room service or cleaning or anything like that, but it's a pleasant enough place to go for a retreat or three. I've been there for a couple of non-Institute things, over the vacations when you're not here."
"It sounds lovely," Hermione said. "Siriol, have you ever heard of something called the Song of Time?"

Draco thought he saw a momentary gleam in Siriol's eye, somewhat triumphant, as if an Unsolvable Sphere toy had just snapped into its multicoloured completed state. Just as quickly as it came, the look disappeared and Siriol frowned. "No, Hermione, why?"

"Well, today in the Library, I had to recategorise this parchment, and it just seemed to unroll itself. I was reading through it, and...well, there are certain things in it which I think Harry should know."
"Hermione darling, that sounds very ominous," Harry said, putting his arm around her.

Hermione rolled out the parchment onto the table and they all crowded round. The parchment was written in old musical plainchant notation, and rustled pleasantly as Hermione started to read it out in her best speaking voice.

* * *


The Song of Time

On Summer's Eve, a child is born
At dusk of night and dawn of morn
To ancient folk, the eldest kin
Heir of Slytherin.

An Old One's child the babe shall be
Ere year has turned, shall murder see.
The waning moon before his time
Waxing paradigm.

Pendragon! All shall cry his name
Through history, all know his fame.
Arthur's child, through time is sent:
The portents be rent.

His knowledge will through schooling grow
Two friends through youth, one enemy, though
The foil to friend, through change of heart
Newer paths to start.

The world around him changed will be
From darkness, light; night, day; yet he
A debt to no old power owe:
New power to show.

In turning to man he North and East
Shall go, potential never ceased;
While taught to use new powers he
Shall be by the sea.

A quest for him will come apparent
To measure and to gauge his talent
His companions, they shall number ten
Six women, four men:

The Former Foil confused be,
The Tomewatcher shall be a she.
The Seeing One is topped with red,
The Crone and Guide shall be agèd.
The Baron lives in rainbow hue,
The Yellow Woman's name's a clue.
The Slave Freed is not human creature,
The Country Girl's clothing will complete her.
The Outlander's name shall be unfurled,
Distinct from Daughter of the New World.

If one of these not accompany him,
The chance of his success is slim.

The quest shall start while he's unknown;
Though when needs must, he shall be shown.
Surprised will his companions be:
True identity.

His ending goal shall be concealed.
When he emerges, it revealed
To all shall be, as shall his name:
His birthright proclaim!


* * *

Hermione looked up. "Do you know what this means, Harry? It means you're the Pendragon!"

* * *