Rating:
PG-13
House:
Schnoogle
Characters:
Draco Malfoy Harry Potter
Genres:
Romance Action
Era:
Multiple Eras
Spoilers:
Prizoner of Azkaban Goblet of Fire
Stats:
Published: 03/20/2003
Updated: 06/16/2004
Words: 47,918
Chapters: 8
Hits: 7,943

Music of Destiny

Darke Angel

Story Summary:
HP/DM SLASH! Set in 5th year & beyond, continuing from 4th bk. Includes an OC who appears sometime later, but she's only involved in non-romantic relationships, & NOT a Mary Sue! Harry's depressed, withdrawn from his friends after another incident in 5th year. Draco's nearing an important turn in his life and getting more and more confused every day. They find each other through the music they find solace in, away from prying eyes, while War begins its deadly march. Harry fumbles his way through reality, finding out shocking secrets about his past, prophecies involving him, and Draco. Draco's torn between the Light and the Dark, with pressing reasons on each side to consider. And the world meets someone it never imagined still existed.

Chapter 03

Chapter Summary:
HP/DM SLASH! Set in 5th year & beyond, continuing from 4th book. Harry & Draco are suffering from reality & withdraw from the Light into the Dark. As the world readies for war, Harry finds out startling secrets about his past, prophecies involving him & Draco. He pushes away the people he loves, hurting both himself and them. And Draco's torn between the Light and the Dark, with pressing reasons on each side to consider.
Posted:
04/27/2003
Hits:
733
Author's Note:
Yes! third chap! after this chap, the action picks up. Please review, and thanks to everyone who did - Shortcake, Aarra, Skyler Trueflight, Carrottop, and Nevnariel Ashley, who's also my beta, double thanks to you! and those who reviewed the first chap, too.

Chapter Three

Harry shivered as the cold wind bit into him through his robes and Invisibility Cloak. He bent forward slightly on his Firebolt, hunkering down against the chill, and urged it higher, higher... within moments he was on the Hogwarts roof, in the northernmost corner, landing on the stone flagstones. The wide stone ledge that ran around the edge of the vast roof made good seats, though there was the danger of losing your balance to the wind that blew strongly, mostly from the north.

The green-eyed boy sighed, frustrated that he had to use his second choice for his private hideaway. His first choice, a nice *warm* fire-lit room at the very end of the fourth floor, had been taken up tonight by a couple making out. He could hear the moans all the way from the end of the corridor. A quick check of the map told him that there indeed were two people in the room (right on top of each other, as it happened), and that Filch was nearing his corridor. He had quickly mounted his broom and had flown out of the nearest window.

Shivering, the boy conjured up some wood, then muttered the fire-spell he had picked up from Hermione when she had used it twice in first year. He nodded, satisfied, when the blue fire burned the wood, casting an eerie blow glow all around. It made him uneasy, somehow. To see fire, something he looked at everyday, look so unfamiliar was just... well, it was creeping him out. But then he shrugged it off and took out his flute.

The rough wood felt cool in his hands, reminding him of better times, when Hagrid had made the flute for him, when he had not truly feared and understood the dangers lying in wait for him, just plunging into it unthinkingly. Now he seemed to be doing nothing but think, and he knew now how foolish he was back then. Dragging Ron into the basilisk lair with him was stupid. He could have gotten killed - Harry himself almost had! Even Lockheart hadn't deserved that. Hermione, too, she was attacked by the basilisk trying to help him. Why hadn't he realized what the monster was sooner? He should have been researching it himself!

And Ginny! She had gotten hurt, manipulated, pushed to an inch of death, and it was because Harry had been too stupid to recognize the diary for what it was, for not telling Dumbledore. And she still continued to admire him, to respect him, care for him - that was the worst part. He didn't deserve her. He didn't deserve any of them. All he did was get them killed; Cedric and Dean's death had proved that. He knew he had promised himself to go back to the normal Boy-Who-Lived whom they all respected, but he couldn't. He just couldn't. He had thought a lot that fateful day, and he'd come to the conclusion that he would rather them be worried than dead.

Shaking his head to clear it of such thoughts, Harry lifted the flute again. Every night, he escaped from reality to somewhere private, a time when he dropped the impenetrable wall he had built around him and let the Harry he was deep inside express himself through music. He just let go, pouring out all the emotions he had bottled up the entire day to the black night. And it made him feel better, at least until he put down his flute and went back to the tower and the suffocating life he led in the brightness of day.

The natural talent Harry had at playing the flute had revealed its existence last year, when he had first brought it along with him on his nightly escapes as something to pass the time. Little did he expect how comfortable he was with the flute; he could play any tune he wanted without thinking about it. It seemed so right, somehow, to just lose himself in the music, letting it envelope him in its sweet melody while he pondered the tangled mystery that was himself.

The first few notes of a haunting tune that had been running through his head all day long hung in the night air, the soft, rich sound of the flute resonating gently in a sweet serenade to the sky. Then, as Harry relaxed into his music, the melody flowed forth from the hollow wood, its sad, melancholy tone weaving a tapestry of song against the backdrop of the majestic stone castle and the starburst-patterned velvet cloth of night. The sheer intensity of the song reflected the tumultuous emotions of the lone figure on the roof, with his eyes closed and the blue light of the fire flickering over him, battling with the shadows for possession of this fragile, fallen angel.

The initially soft song gradually grew stronger with passion, as the flutist gave his all to the music. The notes, carried by the wind, haunted the ancient fortress of Hogwarts, immersing the castle in the flowing liquid fire of his music. Grief, hurt, sorrow, hatred, sadness, guilt, everything that Harry held back inside of him so as not to worry everyone more than they already did condensed into an unearthly song that left any person who heard it breathless with the powerful emotions that buffeted them, and brought tears to their eyes.

Yet, with all its heavenly beauty, it seemed so lonely; a string of sound, not a chorus, a choir. But a flute can only play a note at a time, and so, it was condemned to being alone, like how Harry had condemned himself to being alone. He would never reach out for help, because if he did, the death that surrounded him would swallow his friends too. So he had to stay inside the prison he created for himself, inside the darkness, because nobody could know the real Harry, who wanted nothing more in the world than to be able to be with people who loved him and whom he loved back.

Forever alone...

Then Harry faltered in his playing, too stunned to continue. For intertwining with his flute's song, quiet enough to let the flute's melody rise above it in a solo, were the soft harmonious sounds of a piano's accompaniment.

+++++

Draco alighted silently onto the Hogwarts roof, in the warmest corner he could find, which happened to be on the south side of the castle, protected by high walls that blocked the winds coming in from outside the school. In this cold weather, he was thankful that he wore his warm cashmere clothing instead of his normal silk outfit. The fact that there were warming charms woven into the cloth didn't hurt, either.

Taking out his wand, he charmed his hands with a warming spell so that they wouldn't freeze up. Then, digging in his pocket, he took out what looked like a tiny replica of a grand piano and a piano bench, all shiny and black. Blowing gently on them to get rid of any dirt, he set them on the ground and quickly cast a spell before they could be blown away. The next second, Draco smiled as he trailed a pale hand along his piano, which was now the normal size, and then sat down on the sturdy bench.

He loved the piano, and had played it since young, but it had only been a pastime, and before that a chore that his parents made him go through. This last year, the piano had become more and more important to him, as it was his only companion in the night, when he would just take it out of his pocket and undo the shrinking spell he had put on it and just... play. Play out his feelings, his agonized troubles, his confused emotions, his torn loyalties, his rage... it had become his refuge, the only one that knew everything about Draco. Lately it had become his life, one of the last few fraying strings that kept him tied to the sane world.

Sighing, Draco flexed his fingers; ready to play whatever tune came to his mind first, when he froze. Was that... music? The word music hardly did it justice. It was... it was alive, with a soul of its own, weaving in and out of the winds, weaving around the school, weaving around *him*. It was angelic, it was heavenly, it was unearthly, it was devilish, burning the senses like fire and yet cooling the mind like water. It was... it was...

It was like his own music.

His first thought was, *I think I've finally lost my mind, but then, if I had, shouldn't I be going 'Bwahahaha Voldie's a lizard' by now?* And his second thought - *This must be real, then. Impossible, but real. I've died, then, and gone to heaven. Except I don't think heaven's this damned bloody cold.*

All along, Draco had thought he was the only one who had abandoned himself through music, thought he was the only one in this world who felt so lonely, so hurt, so lost, so helpless. Thought he was the only one so messed up, thought he was weird for loving his music like that, for thinking his music alive. But here was someone who shared the same state as he was in, shared the same emotions, shared the same passion, the same music... he didn't know how he could tell all that just through *music*, but he could. He could feel the other person's sorrow through that lonely flute melody that reached out to his very soul.

He was spellbound, just living, reveling in that sound, when he suddenly realized he knew the song. It was a beautiful, heart wrenching instrumental piece that haunted your mind for a long time after you had heard it. That was one of the reasons why he had searched out the musical score and learned it, until he could play it by heart. It was one of his favourite pieces, called Sadame. Even the name sounded cool - it was Japanese for fate, destiny. And it was a Muggle song, too, which was also another reason why he chose to learn it, because he wanted to prove he would never bow down to -

But that wasn't the point, was it? Draco calmed himself down, knowing that he wouldn't play well with his composure agitated. He repositioned his fingers, lips moving as he counted the beat to the song, waiting for the right moment to join in, and then did just that.

He played very softly at first, then when he was sure he had the correct tune and timing, he released his soul into it, playing like he always did, but holding back just enough so that it wouldn't drown out the flute. He felt the music being lifted into the air by the wind, and rushing to meet the flute's tune. Like two long-lost friends, the notes twined around each other, melding into each other like one whole, one seamless melody, one perfect song.

Then the other music hesitated, withdrawing into itself, and Draco prayed fervently that it wouldn't stop altogether. Not when he had finally found someone who could, perhaps, truly understand him. He let this worry flow through the notes, with a hint of a plea, of reassurance that nothing which showed itself in the day mattered in the night, except who you truly were, your core, your soul. His music wrapped itself around the other, buoying it, a comfortable, steady support; like the constant, passive strength of Nature, of wood and of earth, of the flowing coolness of soft breezes.

Please... let whoever that is realize that all I want to do is understand... and be understood in return. Please...

+++++

Harry sometimes went for a walk in the Forbidden Forest, along the outskirts, nothing dangerous. Just deep enough into the woods that he was surrounded by the woody smell, the crisp green, the comforting feel of Nature, with the rustling sound of laughing breezes teasing the leaves. It comforted him, made him feel so at ease, sort of like how he felt when he played his flute; like he was safe, protected, and the trees and plants wouldn't let any harm come to him.

He felt that sense of peace now, with the piano music that seemed to twine around him. He could feel the other's hope for understanding, for belonging. Just like him. Here was someone who felt the same way as he did about the characters they played on life's stage, felt the same depression about it all. Someone like him. Someone like him... how could he even think of giving up this chance to find someone who might really understand?

He let his music sing free, and the two harmonies melded into each other again. Now the song was so much more potent than before... it wasn't silhouetted against the sky, it *was* the sky. It was the aged stone of the castle, it was the teasing dance of the wind, it was the flowing silk of water, it was the burning passion of fire, it was the calm strength of earth, it was the vibrant laughter of life, it was the bittersweet pain of death... it was the seamless melding of two souls, once lost and broken, now beginning to mend with the other's help.

Somewhere in the distance, a clock started chiming... it was midnight. It was exactly midnight, when Harry and Draco each finally accepted a helping hand, and let someone into the fortresses that were their hearts. But they were cautious at first, holding back, trying to determine just how much they could trust each other with. For even though they opened the door, it did not mean they let the other step inside and explore... for now, anyway.

<Who are you?>

~Does it matter? Names... are what define us by the day, but this is night. Night, where we can be ourselves, without the masks we lock into place when people are around.~

~True... I suppose that we must not let our names define us, but let us define our names.~

~Maybe, but there is still a bit of You and Me in that Us.~

~Do you get the feeling we're beating around the bush, and not making sense while at it?~

Light laughter swirled through the music, lightening the undertone of angst. The two boys were communicating through the tune that they played. They didn't stop to wonder how it was possible to express words through music, because it all seemed so natural to just let it flow. This was beyond words, a higher, purer form of magic; music itself was magic, the most beautiful kind of all. They spoke with their hearts, without the constraints of verbal speech, with music as their link; they could feel the other's emotions, the truth in their 'words', the sincerity, which they could not do when just talking.

~Do you always come to the roof at night?~

~I see... I play every night, in some empty room in Hogwarts.~

A pause.

~Why what? I go to an empty room?~

There was a thoughtful hesitation in the flute's song, while the piano's tone was encouraging and patient.

~I don't want my friends to worry. I don't want them to get hurt.~

~Yes, exactly. I don't want... pity. Excuses. I didn't do things I was supposed to, and I guess this is the consequence.~

~And because... there are some secrets that I just can't share with them. No matter how much they want to help.~

~And they might push you away if they knew.~

~And you have to get used to being alone because if you start caring, your wall might just crumble.~

~And then you'd be letting them down.~

~You know, it's a little unnerving to hear all your innermost thoughts and feelings expressed by someone else.~

The song ended, and subconsciously, they started on another song. But this time, the song wasn't such a sad one. There were parts of the song that felt more hopeful, more uplifting. It was soulful and rich, called Forbidden Love.

And as the night wore on, the stars seemed to twinkle more brightly than ever, and the moon and planets seemed to glow, marking the start of an ancient prophecy and a new path fraught with danger and inevitable hurt, pain and betrayal, but also unity, hope and bliss. And two special individuals who by deciding their own fate would decide the fate of the world, were setting out on that treacherous path.

But right now, they were just two confused teenage wizards reaching desperately for any ray of hope that stretched down to them, tentatively beginning to trust again. New friendships, love and alliances would be formed, old prejudices and feuds broken, fears and secrets brought out of dark hiding places, loyalties re-examined, hard, painful decisions and choices made; all because of this one night that started it all, the night when the Music of Destiny began playing its song.

+++++

"I think that's quite enough, don't you agree?" Dumbledore managed to sound calm and composed even through the tears that ran down his aged face. He cleared his throat and fished out a handkerchief to wipe away his tears and blow his nose before closing the window, shutting out most of the duet that played outside. A trace of the music still managed to find its way in, like a whisper of secret teasing the subconscious, as the great wizard turned around to face his audience once again.

Snape roughly wiped away the liquid that gathered in his eyes, though the redness in his face that came from crying still remained. Minerva, Sinistra, and Arabella, the more emotional females in the room, and Mundungus whose didn't see the point of hiding emotions around friends, were still crying unashamedly into handkerchiefs that Dumbledore supposed they had conjured from thin air. The Weasleys had their eyes closed, but tears still leaked out, and they were sniffling. Hagrid was bawling into his hands.

Sirius had an arm around Remus, and both their heads were bowed, shoulders shaking a little. Remus had his hands clenched in his lap, and Sirius had balled the hand that wasn't bracing Remus into a fist. Dumbledore knew the song had hit them the hardest. After all, even though they didn't know it, there was still a strong connection between them and the flute's emotions, since the flutist was someone they deeply cared about. This sort of connection would be there no matter what.

Finally everyone had gotten some semblance of control over themselves. Remus and Sirius had also sat back in their chairs. Dumbledore cleared his throat. "That was a very good potion, and I thank you, Severus. If we hadn't taken it, all we would have heard was a song that left us feeling inexplicably saddened. As it is... Professor Sinistra, what did you feel?"

The teacher pondered the question. "When the flute music first started, I felt like it swept me up in a rushing tidal wave of liquid fire. It was so intense, like a burning inferno and freezing ice, yet warm like a campfire flame and soothingly cool like clear water... the piano music was just as powerful, but had the strength of thousand year old trees and the suppleness of youthful grass, and also the life-giving calm of a gentle breeze with the force of a whirlwind. The entire song was so haunting, so sad, full of suppressed emotions that found an outlet... negative emotions, mostly, but also a bit of hope. It was like being in heaven, listening to a choir sing with not words, but everything that they were made of, their being, their soul..." She sighed, a dreamy smile on her face. "There are no words to describe it."

Dumbledore smiled gently at the emotional Astronomy professor. "Yes, that was it exactly. Their magic, triggered by a particularly stressful period of emotional breakdown, found an outlet through music. Thus the music will have the feel of their magic and their souls. Can you guess who the players were, and what their powers are?"

Remus lifted his head and said hollowly, "Harry. Fire and Water."

Sirius twisted around to look at him. "Harry? How can it be? How did he end up in this state?" The expression on his face was one of anguish and disbelief.

Remus shook his head. "I don't know. I tried to talk to him, but he wouldn't listen. He's changed, Sirius. A lot. He's like a ghost of his former self... no, not even a ghost. The Harry we know is just... just gone. If you saw him..." He cradled his head in his hands, not even wanting to finish his sentence. But Sirius got the idea, though.

"F*ck it!" Sirius cursed, glaring at Dumbledore. "Not meaning any disrespect, sir, but why the bloody hell didn't you tell me sooner? That boy's my godson!"

"If I told you, what would you have done? Rushed straight back to Hogwarts and endanger all the people involved in the missions you had to do and delay all the important tasks that were assigned to you?" Dumbledore replied calmly, with a hint of warning in his voice. "Think, Sirius!"

Gritting his teeth, the Animagus gripped the arms of his chair so tightly that his knuckles turned white and listened as Dumbledore continued speaking. "And the other?"

Snape frowned. "Draco Malfoy. Earth and Air."

"Malfoy?!" Sirius exploded again. "No way!"

"Sirius!" the Headmaster reprimanded sharply. "Mr. Malfoy is not the person people always seem to mistake him for. He is not his father. Although he has not told me anything, I have ways to find out. Do not judge people like that."

"He's right. Draco is nothing like the dog that Lucius is. He's just misunderstood. And these days, he's getting quieter, like Potter." Everyone glanced at Snape, surprised. He looked back at them, serious for once. "I do care for my charges in Slytherin house, especially Draco, unlike what you all think. He trusts me implicitly, and knows I am not totally faithful to Voldemort, but he has guarded that secret with his life. I trust him, and trust is hard to come by in... my line of work. However, he has not done so recently. Since the start of this year, in fact."

Dumbledore nodded serenely at him. "Yes, Severus has been most helpful in matter pertaining to Mr. Malfoy. And now, we shall move on to the matter I have called you here for." A quick charm that replicated the paper on Dumbledore's desk ensured that everyone had a copy of the prophecy to refer to.

"We shall now go through it, and I shall translate it as best as I can."

Light and Dark,

Bonded of fate.

Two lost halves,

Born of hate.

"Light and Dark should refer to the two people - one on the Light side, which would be Harry, and the other on the Dark, which would be Draco. However, it might also mean the sides that they *seem* to represent. For Draco Malfoy is not totally on the Dark side. In fact, he might be more Light than Dark - "

"Why are you all protecting Malfoy?" Sirius asked, dislike written all over his face. "You know the hell Harry went through because of that arrogant prat?"

"Ah, but Draco is not all he seems, and we cannot judge his actions at face value, as I have already said. Now, Sirius, do calm down. Where was I? Oh, yes. Bonded of fate - that is obvious. Their fate is linked, and has been even before tonight.

"Two lost halves, born of hate. It implies that they were meant to be together as one, but because of the hatred that exists in our world, they were forced apart. Or it could mean that they are lost because they hate each other, and cannot be together because of their fixed mindsets, and that puts them in the state they are now."

"Is there any difference between the two explanations? Because I don't see it," a puzzled Charlie Weasley spoke up.

"Yes, a small difference. But the idea of it is that unwelcome hatred has forced apart a whole, and now the two halves of that whole are lost."

Charlie frowned, but Dumbledore had already carried on speaking.

Together as one,

Rarest of sky.

Hidden in dark,

Tears of why.

"Together as one, rarest of sky. This is simple; they will be together again when the astronomic arrangement of the sky is the rarest.

"Hidden in dark, tears of why. In the dark of the night, they let down the walls they've built in the day, let out all the frustration. Or it could be just talking about their state of feelings; they hide their emotions inside themselves, and while on the outside they try to carry on as normal, inside they are broken, crying."

World's fate,

They hold;

Elementals two,

They be.

Thus begins

The song

Of Music

Of Destiny.

"They hold the fate of the world in their hands, and they are Double Elementals - or else it could mean they are both Elementals, double or not. And on this night, these two people, will meet because of music... Music of Destiny, for it truly is music that will define our destiny - yours, mine, and everyone, everything in this world."

Silence.

"Wow."

"Very articulate, Black."

"Shut your trap, Snape."

"Headmaster, there were two meanings to some of the verses. Maybe it doesn't have to have only one meaning. Maybe both are true?" suggested Arabella.

"Yes, that is possible... I never thought of that," mused the Headmaster. "That is very possible indeed..."

"They hate each other." That was Remus, his quiet voice making everyone settle down and listen. "They've hated each other for six years, how are they going to overcome that?"

"Ah, but my guess is that they don't know who the other is," said Dumbledore wisely. "It is rare for them to find someone who can truly understand them, and it is a human instinct to try and protect what is precious to them. They will not ask for the other's identity, for there is a chance it might ruin what they have just found. And hopefully, as time passes, they will learn to accept each other, learn that the other is not as bad as he may seem. But we don't have that much time to spare... so I have no choice but to hurry it up."

He turned to the professors. "At the start of this year, I have arranged for every class to have two houses in it, and for the Slytherins and Gryffindors to have Defense Against the Dark Arts, Potions, Transfiguration, Astronomy and Care of Magical Creatures together. The story will be that it is to improve inter-house relationships, but in truth, it is to promote a few particular relationships. I want you to pair Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, and Pansy Parkinson with Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger, so that they will have to partner each person in the other house at least once."

"What? Headmaster, are you trying to instigate war in our classes? They'll kill each other in five minutes flat!" Snape protested heatedly.

"But inter-house fights have practically disappeared nowadays, have they not?" Dumbledore replied mildly.

"Yes, they have, and I like it that way! Pair them together and you'll have bloodshed!"

"We shall just have to see. Now, I also want you to give a part of your research to them as a project. Any research you have problems with, assign it to these groups. Ms. Granger, Mr. Malfoy, and Mr. Potter are the top three students in the school, and I believe they will do the job remarkably well. This way your load will be lightened. I suggest you inform the Gryffindors of the importance of their research, as an incentive. After all, it's for the protection of Hogwarts. I am not sure if we can trust the Slytherins as much yet, I am sorry to say, Severus, but they have not given me enough reason to do so. But I hope time will change that, with the help of the Gryffindors."

Snape grumbled something and shot a glare at Sirius, who was smirking slightly.

"And also, Professor Sinistra, you are the best at using stray magic to enhance spells. When these two boys play their music, their power runs wild around the school, for they have not learned to control and direct it yet. So I hope you can use all this untamed magic to strengthen the defense spells around Hogwarts, and maybe set up new spells."

"No problem, Headmaster."

"Thank you. And everyone here, I hope you will keep this a secret. Do not let it leak outside this room. Tell no one of the prophecy, not even the boys. And if either of the boys seeks your guidance, encourage them. Do not let your prejudice against any one of them affect their friendship. They need acceptance, not reject. Let them think you have a positive view of their relationship, no matter what this relationship will evolve into."

McGonagall pursed her lips. "You make it sound like they're going to have romantic ties, Headmaster."

Dumbledore chuckled. "Who knows, Minerva, who knows?"

The deputy Headmistress gaped, losing her composure for once. "What?" She wasn't the only one.

But Dumbledore was seemingly oblivious to the consternation he had caused. He waved a hand and beamed. "Tonight has been a revelation for us all, and I expect you will be tired by now. Don't worry about the potion, its effects will wear off by tomorrow. Off to bed, now!"

Just as everyone was rising to their feet, he added softly, "And make sure to watch out for sunrise, if possible. The after-effects of the constellations will leave its mark on the dawn sky, and I'm sure the sight will be most worthwhile."

One by one, the spells were lifted, and everybody left, discussing matters in hot whispers, except Sirius and Remus. "Headmaster, I'd like to request to stay until tomorrow morning. I want to see Harry, see if I can talk to him, and make him talk to me. I'll go immediately after, I swear! Just let me see him before I go out on yet another mission," Sirius pleaded earnestly, real worry in his eyes.

"Of course, Sirius. But not later than nine, or there will be problems," Dumbledore cautioned.

"Thank you, Headmaster." Sirius left, talking in low tones with Remus.

Finally, the room was empty once again. Fawkes, settled on his perch, ruffled his wings sleepily, then tucked his head under them and slept. Dumbledore sat there, hands folded in front of him, lost deep in thought. His mind was full of worries, and one stood out prominently.

There was one part of the prophecy that he did not mention to the others - partly because he did not fully understand it, and partly because of the parts he *did* understand. He didn't want to spoil the more hopeful parts of the prophecy for those people just now - they had been through so much, and now there was hope, how could he bear to dash it? Better to let one person worry than ten more.

Basking in the barely audible melody, the great wizard, feeling so very, very tired, closed his eyes; and the voice that never went away, the voice that lurked deep in his worn heart, the voice that taunted him with its mocking whispers and laughter, the voice that laughed gleefully at the dark fate that was so clearly written in those four lines... he closed his eyes, and listened to that voice whisper the verse over and over again, even as the gentle shine of dawn broke through the night sky.

A shadowed ghost from the past awakens,

Haunted, will the Music be forsaken?

The guardians might guard against the dark,

But who will guard the guardians?

+++++