Dragonseed I - The Serpent's Head

DRAGON SEED I - The Serpents Head

Chapter 4 - Present, Past and Future

The room was lit only by the flickering flames in the open fireplace. Their light danced with the shadows in bizarre patterns of yellow, orange, red and green and played like yellow whiplashes across the back of the man kneeling on the cold stone floor in front of the fireplace with his head bowed.

Looking at the man bent submissively before him he could barely control his anticipation and desire. "How did the mission go, Alan? Do you have it?"

Alan raised his head. Silhouetted against the firelight his expression could not be seen, but he could feel the man's fear. "My Lord, tonight we gained access to all the Ministry vaults with no interruptions," he hesitated, the level of fear increased, "but ..."

"Do you have it?"

He dropped his head, flinching slightly. "No, my Lord. It was not there."

Rising from the throne-like chair, he started to pace the room. The younger man rose shakily from the floor and followed.

"It had to be there. The damn Aurors gutted Malfoy Manor of everything of magical value, save the contents of one secret area and I myself accounted for that." He stopped by the far wall, flicked his wand from his sleeve and muttered, "Lumos." Made visible by the clear wand light was an elegant oak cabinet, dark brown, almost black, with age and intricately carved with ancient mystical symbols. Alan shuddered as slender black gloved fingers gently ran down the centre and the cabinet doors swung silently open, exposing an array of bottles and sachets all meticulously arranged.

"My Lord."

"Yes," he replied, but his fingers continued to pass gently over the shelves, searching.

"It is possible some of the less upstanding Aurors and Ministry officials may have sold some of the artifacts to private collectors."

The hand stopped moving, "Yes, that's a possibility."

"Lucius Malfoy's cane would be an item many collectors would covet," Alan suggested.

He swung around suddenly and the other man stepped back quickly, cringing.

"Pursue that line of inquiry, Alan." One gloved fist clenched reflexively. "I will have the Serpent's Head and I must have it before the wedding."

"A symbol of Malfoy pride and supremacy?"

"Oh, no!" he smiled grimly, "the Serpent's Head is a very ancient and powerful artifact. It has powers my father never even knew about." He laughed. "Not that he could have used them anyway."

He touched Alan lightly on the shoulder, causing him to look up.

"Yes, my Lord?"

"Use whatever means you have to, but remember discretion."

The gloved fingers played lightly with the dark brown locks resting on Alan's shoulders.

"I am, however, a little disappointed," he said casually, returning to stand in front of the fire. "Come!"

Alan came and stood in front of him watching with a combination of fascination and poorly concealed terror, as a small vial of red liquid was opened and its seal flicked into the fireplace. He caressed the younger man's face with one hand, sweetly, gently coaxing his lips apart, then with the other hand dripping the contents of the vial, drop by blood red drop, into the open, inviting mouth.

Carefully and deliberately he removed his gloves, one by one, a finger at a time and dropped them on the arm of his chair.

There is almost nothing like the feeling of soft clean human flesh, he thought as he slid his bare hands under the collar of the man's robes to clasp his shoulders, his fine white fingers encircling the neck. The skin was cool and soft under his fingers, like ivory, but pliable.

But the best feeling of all is the feeling of a human mind laid bare to be controlled, the sheer joy of having the power to rule another soul's emotions. He focused on his feelings of disappointment, frustration and anger and poured them forth into the mind exposed in front of him.

His grip tightened for a few moments as the emotional invasion was transformed into real physical pain for the body he held, his lieutenant sobbed, moaned, shook and screamed under the attack. And when he was calm, once more relaxed, he let go abruptly and the other man sank to the floor, still writhing in agony.

***

"Good morning class." The deceptively cheerful tone in my mother's voice worried me as she entered the Transfiguration class room and cast an apparently casual eye over the Third year Gryffindors and Slytherins. When in 'Professor' mode Mum reminded me of a hawk, gliding lazily in circles, totally relaxed and casual, then when something untoward catches her eye swooping in swift and deadly for the kill.

"The first lesson of the year and already someone's late." As if on cue Marcus and his friend Grey came charging through the doorway sliding to an abrupt halt at the sight of an impatient Professor Tonks standing at the front of the room.

"Sorry Professor," they chorused together.

"So nice of you to grace my class with your presence, gentlemen. Sit down. Four points from Slytherin."

As they slunk into their seats I noticed that Marcus wasn't looking too flash. He hadn't been at breakfast and he looked like he had been dragged out of bed and thrown together. From the grim expression on Grey's face he probably had. Could it have been another one of those weird dreams?

Thankfully it was a revision session. To see how much we had forgotten over the holidays. I am very good at Transfiguration. I have to be. One of the trials of having your mother as your teacher is that their expectations are always higher for you than for any other student. Fortunately this meant that I could apply just enough concentration to complete the exercises adequately while worrying about Marcus. We needed to talk.

When the lesson ended he stood up and as he turned I caught his eye. He raised his eye brows slightly and I gave a quick nod in return. Apparently he wanted to talk to me as badly as I wanted to talk to him.

As he disappeared out the door I shouldered my bag and followed my classmates down to the greenhouses for Herbology.

***

Transfiguration with Gryffindor had been a good way to start the day, Marcus decided. Not only had he organised to see James later, but he was awake enough now to tackle his new subjects.

Each third year student started two or three new subjects to take them through to their OWLs. Marcus had elected Modern History of Magic, Ancient Runes and Divination. The next period was single History followed by single Divination.

Stephen was still pissed off from having to get Marcus out of bed and the points loss. "What was up with you this morning?" he asked as they walked between classes.

"Didn't sleep well."

Stephen looked at him sharply but did not pursue the matter.

When they entered the Modern History class room the teacher was already there, even though they were early. Professor Longbottom was a very ordinary looking man, of average height with straight brown hair that he kept cut quite short. Even with the receding hairline his rounded face made him look ridiculously young. His desk was at the side of the room which was dominated by an enormous blackboard that completely covered the front wall. As the students entered the young professor was sitting in a relaxed manner behind the desk reading a journal.

It struck Marcus anew how such an innocuous looking man could have such a reputation. Nearly everyone took Modern History and it was also a popular NEWT choice. All because of this apparently ordinary man.

When the last of the students was seated the professor closed the journal, stood up and casually tossed a piece of chalk from hand to hand as he walked to the centre front. He muttered something and flicked the chalk over his shoulder. It came to rest perpendicular to the black board and started to write, 'Neville Longbottom'.

"Good morning ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Modern History of Magic. For those of you who don't know me I am Professor Longbottom. You will find my approach to history a little different from Professor Binns." At that several students smiled and a couple even sniggered. The Professor allowed himself the smallest of smiles.

"Your text book provides us with the framework, but I will be most disappointed if all you can do is regurgitate for me what you find in there. I expect you to do a lot more than memorize dates and names and places." He stopped, looked at them with a twinkle in his eye and continued, "And if you care to take issue with the facts as presented in the text, feel free to say so. I am sure the author can cope." At that several students laughed out loud. They all knew that he teacher was the author.

"The first key component of History is people, their actions and reactions. Major turning points in History are nearly always the result of the decisions of just one or two people." The chalk on the board started a new line with a bold number one followed by the word 'People'.

"History is nearly always written by the winning side and this can result in skewing of the truth. Not to the point of lies, but more to view it from a certain perspective. I ask you to bear the issue of perspective in mind." At these words the chalk added point two, 'Perspective'.

Professor Longbottom paused for a moment before adding, "The third key component to remember is Place." The chalk obediently added this to the board. "That can refer to location, or place in time. I want you to always consider these three factors when looking at the modern history of British and European Wizardry."

"Let's consider an example of a person involved in recent history." He scanned his gaze across the class. "Any suggestions?"

Several hands shot up mostly Ravenclaws, of course. Professor Longbottom indicated at one of them, Marcus identified him as Callum Davies. "Sir, what about you?"

The expression on the teacher's open round face was one of resignation, not surprise. Marcus figured he probably got the same suggestion every year.

"Okay. Neville Longbottom's place in recent history, can anyone tell me what you know about it?" It was intriguing, Marcus thought, for the Professor to refer to himself in third person.

"Order of Merlin Second class for your involvement in Voldemort's final defeat."

"Member of Dumbledore's Army."

"Took part in the Department of Mysteries incident."

As each item was called out the chalk obediently scrawled it out on the board.

"Not bad." The professor said as he looked at the list. "There are a number of things missing, but you will learn them when we get to it. So now tell me how perspective fits into this?"

Marcus finally put his hand up.

"Mr. Weasley."

"You were a Gryffindor like Dumbledore and Harry Potter. So the Gryffindor perspective enhances your deeds."

"Good answer. Now what about place, Mr. Weasley?"

"Much the same answer. You were in the same Gryffindor year group as Harry Potter. Just about everyone in that group ended up involved more or less," he drawled in reply.

"Of course there is more to it than that but Mr. Weasley's answers do cover it pretty well. Please note down this discussion as I will expect you to remember it when we come back to the subject of Neville Longbottom later." The rest of the period was swallowed up with outlining the program for the year. Marcus was in a very thoughtful mood when he left the classroom and began the long trek to the North Tower.

Several flights of stairs and many twisting turning corridors later, they found themselves in a small round antechamber. The only way forward was up a small twisting golden staircase that looked too thin and fragile to carry the weight of any of the students. The third year Slytherins all came to an abrupt halt at the foot of the staircase.

Marcus turned to Stephen, shrugged his shoulders. "Well, nothing ventured ..." and started to climb. The staircase was considerably more robust than its appearance indicated and once Marcus had safely reached the small circular opening at the top the others followed, one by one.

The divination classroom was very different. The bottom half of the circular room was lined with shelves, crammed with crystal balls, packs of cards, tea-sets and other odd bits and pieces of assorted paraphernalia.

The upper half was all windows. The windows were masked with fine gauzy curtains which allowed light through so that the room seemed filled with a soft golden glow. There was no real front or back to the classroom. Ten tables were evenly spaced around the room in a circle with two chairs at each table.

Marcus and Stephen quickly sat down together, followed by their classmates, and waited.

Nearly ten minutes later a head appeared in the circular opening, slowly followed by the rest of Professor Lovegood. Her straight blonde hair had been pulled into a haphazard bun perched on the top of her head, from which numerous strands floated free and the whole structure seemed in imminent danger of collapse.

She gazed around the room with her slightly protruding eyes. On her face was an expression that looked like faint surprise as if she really wasn't expecting any students. She sat down at one of the empty tables.

"Welcome to Divination," she said, in a voice so soft that Marcus was straining to hear. "There are two types of Divination or Future seeing. The methods we will cover this year require no real 'Sight' or talent and any witch or wizard with half a grain of sense should be able to become reasonably proficient. These are Palmistry, Astrology, Tea-leaf reading and Tarot."

"In fourth year we will begin to study those methods of seeing the future which require real 'Sight' to work properly. There are of course, other forms of sight besides foreseeing." At this her gaze which had been flitting randomly around the room, fixed on Marcus. She seemed to sigh. "But we will only touch briefly on those."

She fell silent, then stood up abruptly lifted her arms in front of her and held her hands out. "Palm reading is actually a misnomer." She brought her hands down in a dramatic sweep, face down on the table. "It should be called hand reading. Everyone, hands on the table, palm down."

She then proceeded to make them try and interpret their partner's hand shapes. After several minutes frantically flicking back and forth through the relevant chapter of 'Unfogging the Future' Stephen shook his head. "Remind me why I chose this daft subject," he groaned.

"Because you still wanted to be able to copy my notes from every class," said Marcus, keeping a very straight face.

At the end of the lesson everyone rose quickly in a hurry to get to lunch. Marcus had to wait his turn to exit by the narrow stairway.

"Mr. Weasley." The soft voice right next to his ear made him jump. "A word if I may."

"Yes, Professor?" Marcus turned and looked curiously at her.

"I'm afraid you will not necessarily find the answers you are looking for in this class," she said quietly, her eyes scanning his face as if searching for something, "but I will help you as much as I can."

"Thank you, Ma'am." Marcus turned to go, as the last of the other students disappeared. He was halfway through the opening when Professor Lovegood spoke again. "One word of advice, Mr. Weasley." He looked back up at her earnest face.

"Never forget the Hogwarts school motto, Mr. Weasley."

"Excuse me, Professor," said Marcus, wrinkling his brow in confusion, "I don't understand."

"Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus, Marcus. You would do well to keep that in mind."

***

The last class of the day was Defense Against the Dark Arts. As soon as it was finished I gave my books to my friend Brian and hurried off to 'our' room.

Marcus and I had discovered this room hidden away in the dungeons under the North Tower when we were still children and had made it our own special place. It was far enough away from the most used sections of the castle to provide us some privacy, which we had enhanced over the previous two years by building up our own set of protective charms. The only ones who could find us here were Dobby and Winky.

Marcus was already there. His fine blonde hair was a mess as if he had been running his fingers through it repeatedly. As soon as I stepped through the door he applied the sealing and silencing charms and sat down on one end of the beaten up old sofa we kept there.

"Another dream?" I asked, making myself comfortable on the other end of the sofa.

"Yes. A really nasty one." He shuddered involuntarily. "Draco Malfoy is a very dangerous man."

As he proceeded to relate his early morning vision, I sat there feeling an increasing sense of terror, but also a strange sense of building excitement.

"I wonder what the Serpent's Head is."

"And more to the point, what he wants to use it for," said Marcus, "we need to dig around in the library and see what we can find out."

"I can't start this week though," I said shaking my head.

"Why not?"

"Quidditch try outs on Saturday. I need to practice every night if I want the Gryffindor seeker position."

"You've got to be joking!" said Marcus, "you're a certainty for the job. There is at present only one seeker at Hogwarts better than you and you are looking at him."

"Well, you've got tickets on yourself then! You wait 'til the Gryffindor vs. Slytherin match. I am going to humiliate you."

Marcus's face broke into a broad grin. "That's more like it. You know you'll make the team." He sat down and his face dropped into a thoughtful frown. There was something else on his mind, I could tell.

"Did you notice what happened during last night's Sorting?" he asked slowly.

"There seemed to be a lot of commotion at your end of the room. What was that all about?"

"A Muggleborn got sorted into Slytherin."

"A Muggleborn? No way!"

"But it happened. So there must be more to Isabella Smith than meets the eye."

"Like us?"

"Well, something like us. So I think I'm going to keep an eye on her."

"She's probably going to need that. The Snake House is no place for a Muggleborn witch." Marcus was still perched on the edge of the sofa, not really settled at all. "But we really need to concentrate on working out this Serpent's Head business. Aunt Ginny could be in a lot of danger."

"The problem," said Marcus, frowning even deeper, "is what to do once we do have that information."

"Easy, we charge in there and save her."

"Who do you think you are Jimmy? The next Harry Potter?"

"I wish!"