The Dragon Herald

The Dragon Herald

Chapter 3 - Turmoil

What you believe will depend very much on what you are.

- Noah Porter

Draco wasn't entirely sure what to expect from the "weapons training" Talia kept talking about. His father had always considered weapons that wounded the physical body to be unspeakably Muggle and crude. Malfoys used wands and magic, lies and manipulation. Malfoys did not sully themselves by fighting hand-to-hand with their opponents.

Apparently, the Heralds did not share this view. But Draco was starting to see that the Heralds and the Malfoys didn't share many views at all. He suspected that the acceptability of physical combat would be the least of the differences.

Do-gooders! Draco was still disgusted at that thought. Orelia hadn't mentioned that was what she was Choosing him for. Though he supposed he should have guessed, considering the type of person who'd want to rescue him from Voldemort. Well, he didn't mind being rescued by a bunch of white hats, not if it kept him from being killed, but he thought that demanding that he become one of them was asking a little much in return. Especially when he wasn't their kind of person in the least.

:Oh, and I suppose you're more of an expert on what makes a Herald than a Companion is, now?: Orelia asked snippily. Draco jumped, not expecting someone to comment on his private thoughts. :Rolan did have one good point - I didn't have to Choose you once I got you out of that madhouse. You were the one I wanted.:

Draco couldn't see why. He didn't fit any of the characteristics of Heralds that Talia had described. And while he'd normally consider himself qualified for any position, he thought that a Herald might be the one thing he shouldn't try.

"Here we are," Talia said cheerfully, ushering Draco into the salle, where weapons training took place. Draco looked around, trying not to seem as fascinated as he was. All around him, males and females were being taught to defend themselves using nothing more than weapons and their bodies. Was this the way Muggles fought? Granted, it would be simple to take out one of these fighters if he used his wand, but that did nothing to detract from the clean beauty and elegance of their movements. Draco fairly itched to try his hand at such a fight, despite his sneaking suspicion that he would probably not be very good at it.

"Let's see, now..." Talia scanned the groups of fighters. "Ah, there. We're in luck - it looks like Jemmie is just finishing up." She wove her way through the salle to where a boy with straw blond hair was being lectured by a man in grey leather. He seemed to have just completed a fight with a pretty brown-haired girl of about the same age.

Spotting Talia, the girl smiled and waved, making her way over to the older woman. "Heyla, Talia!" she greeted cheerfully. "Who's your new friend?"

"This is Draco Malfoy," Talia said. "He's just been Chosen, and he's come from... rather far away. Draco, meet Lyra, Elspeth's younger sister."

"Half sister, really," Lyra corrected. She shrugged at Talia's raised eyebrow. "Well, we ought to be exact about it."

"Mm." Talia unsuccessfully tried to hide a smile. "Well, I thought Jemmie might be able to help Draco get settled in the Collegium. Find him some uniforms, get him a room, that sort of thing."

"You'll sure need uniforms," was Lyra's opinion, taking in Draco's wizard robes. "Why are you wearing a dress?"

"They're robes," Draco snapped. "Everyone wears them where I come from."

"Even men?" Lyra considered this, continuing to eye Draco. "Well, that might not be all bad..."

"What might not be?" The boy, who Draco assumed was Jemmie, came to join them.

"Oh, nothing." Lyra grinned mischievously, causing Jemmie to shoot her an extremely suspicious look.

"I'm glad I caught you, Jemmie," Talia said, ignoring this exchange as only a mother could. "I'd like you to meet Draco Malfoy, our newest Trainee. Draco, this is my son, Jemmie."

"Hello," Jemmie said politely. Draco nodded in response.

"I was hoping you could help Draco find his way around here," Talia said to her son.

Jemmie nodded. "Just let me find someone to take over as cook's helper this evening," he said. He scanned the room a moment, then darted off to talk with a young man cooling off from his fight on the other end of the room.

"So how would you feel about me tagging along with you two?" Lyra asked Draco. "I usually spend that time in the Companions' Field, since Jemmie got himself cooking duty during my free hour, the ungrateful louse." She grinned cheerfully at Talia, who seemed more amused than annoyed by this description of her son. "And anyway, between the two of us, Jemmie and I know this Palace inside and out. We grew up here, you know."

Draco shrugged. "Come if you want to," he said coolly. "I don't care."

Lyra raised her eyebrows. "Well, I'm glad you're so enthusiastic about it."

"Actually," Talia broke into the conversation, "I was hoping you'd join the boys for the tour. I thought meeting you might be good for Draco - a new perspective, perhaps?"

Lyra covered her startled expression with commendable speed, but not before Draco, with both Slytherin and Malfoy reflexes, had spotted it. So this girl was being sent to keep an eye on him? Draco supposed it figured, though he had to give the Heralds points for having at least a bit more sense than the Gryffindors. With the way Dumbledore kept ending up with homicidal maniacs on the Hogwarts payroll, the time-consuming nature of background checks was clearly not an issue.

"I'm free to go," Jemmie announced, returning.

"Turns out I'm coming, too," Lyra said brightly.

Jemmie grinned. "The horror." Lyra kicked his ankle.

"Then I'll leave you three alone," Talia said, smiling. "If you have any problems, just ask me." She headed out.

"So, Draco, where to first?" Jemmie asked.

"If I knew, I wouldn't need your help," Draco pointed out irritably. "Let's just get this over with."

"All right, then," Jemmie said. To Draco's mild surprise, the boy didn't appear insulted by Draco's sharp words. He resolved to try harder. "A room, then clothes, then classes. That's probably the quickest way." He set off at a brisk pace.

"So where are you from?" Lyra asked as they left the salle. "Talia said it was far, and you don't have a Valdemaran accent."

"I'm from Britain," Draco told her coldly. "But don't strain your brain trying to recognize the name - no one seems to know where that is."

"I've never heard of it," Lyra agreed. "It must have taken you ages to get here, even on a Companion."

"Not really," Draco said noncommittally. He got the feeling that telling everyone he met that he'd arrived magically might not be too smart, and he'd already met his daily quota of bad ideas.

"Well, this must be pretty strange for you," Lyra said. "I'm sure you'll adjust, though. Everyone does, after a while."

Draco shrugged. "Whatever."

"You don't like to talk much, do you?" Lyra asked.

"Not to people like you lot," Draco snapped.

"What do you mean, people like us?" Jemmie asked, puzzled. "Valdemarans?"

"Gryffindor types," Draco said, spitting out the words as though they were the vilest insult he knew.

Lyra and Jemmie exchanged glances. "What's a Gryffindor?" Lyra asked curiously.

"Someone too honorable for his own good," Draco snarled, disgust heavy in his words. "Someone who'll take in and protect a complete stranger because it's the Right Thing to do. Anyone who can look at Harry 'The Boy Who Charges Headlong Into Certain Death' Potter and see a decent role model."

"You mean Heralds?" Jemmie stopped dead, staring at Draco in horror. "But you've been Chosen!"

"Well, I didn't ask to be," Draco said angrily. "So here's a tip - don't stress too much about inducting me into your cozy little Round Table set-up, because as soon as someone figures out how to send me home without hurting Orelia, I'm out of here!"

"So you think being Chosen was a mistake?" Lyra asked, frowning.

"Of course it was a mistake, you half-deaf imbecile," Draco shouted. "Have you even listened to a word I've said since you met me? Do I sound like the kind of person you want defending the innocent multitudes? I can't be some champion going around fighting in the name of justice and purity!"

"Not with that attitude you can't," Lyra agreed. "So you want - what?"

Draco stared at her incredulously. Why wasn't she getting angry like Jemmie was? All Lyra was doing was watching him with a strangely intense expression. "It doesn't matter what I want," he said, glaring at her. "I'm stuck in this white knight training center either way. Just get me a room, and you can go back to learning how to fight people like me."

"And what will happen to you if I do?" Lyra wanted to know. "It's not like a Trainee Herald can just pick up and leave. Even if you didn't live so far away, you can't go home."

Draco's biting reply froze in his throat at the way she'd phrased her comment. You can't go home. He couldn't go home, could he? Not after what had happened at his initiation. After the way his father had tried to turn him over to Voldemort, even when it was clear the Dark Lord was only interested in killing him, Draco had no illusions about what Lucius would do if he got his hands on his son again. Bloody hell, I'd have to beg sanctuary from Dumbledore and his pet Gryffs!

Draco resolutely shoved those thoughts away. Malfoys did not whinge on endlessly about their situations - they did what they had to until the world remade itself to their liking. Don't let your emotions control you; don't let others take command. Never for a moment forget who is the master of the situation. Keep yourself under tight control, and all else will follow.

"I'll go where I like," he said finally.

"I'm sure you will," Lyra agreed. "Where were you thinking of?"

"That's no concern of yours!" Draco snapped. What was the matter with this girl? No matter what he said, she didn't react to it as she should. He decided to fall back on an old Malfoy classic - if you can't beat them, intimidate them into admitting you should have won in the first place. He curled his lip in his best sneer, and drew himself up with all his arrogance. "Either show me to a room, or leave me at once. Your presence grows tiresome."

At that, Lyra and Jemmie both began laughing. Draco blinked. He'd used that tone before, generally on House Elves, and it had never failed to be impressive. Maybe Valdemarans were mentally unstable. What with their little heroes-in-training camp, he wouldn't be surprised.

"You really are from far away," Jemmie said, getting his breath back. "Don't try to outclass a Herald - especially not Lyra or me. We've seen it all before, and trust me, we won't be impressed."

"It was a good sneer, though," Lyra said encouragingly. "The wording needs a lot of work yet, but you've got the sneer down pat."

"Don't you dare patronize me!" Draco snarled. Lyra raised her eyebrows, but her intense expression still didn't change as it should have. All the rage that had been building up inside of Draco since he'd been presented to the Dark Lord centered itself on that girl and the horrible way she was looking at him. "What the fuck do you know about anything? You're nothing but a dirty Muggle pretending to be a hero, as if real champions of light and justice actually exist! With that kind of grasp on reality, how dare you stand there and judge me?" Lyra opened her mouth to answer him, but Draco couldn't take it anymore. "I'm a Malfoy, dammit! I don't have to put up with this!" He turned and strode in the opposition direction as quickly as he could without actually fleeing.

A good memory for directions was a necessity for anyone who hoped to survive at Hogwarts, so Draco was able to find his way back to the Companions' Field without too much trouble. Orelia was there to greet him when he did. Throwing his arms around the Companion felt so natural that Draco didn't question it as he took comfort from Orelia's unwavering warmth. Orelia cared for him - a strange thought, perhaps, but Draco knew it was true.

:Of course it's true, Chosen,: Orelia said. :You're mine, and I love you, no matter what you do. Even if you're tremendously rude to a pair of Trainees who only wanted to help you.:

"Why should I care if I've been rude to them?" Draco demanded, ignoring the persistent voice whispering that it hadn't been their fault he was angry.

:I'm sure you know that, dear,: Orelia said calmly. :I'm not here to shepherd you to conclusions.: She rubbed her nose against Draco's hair to soften her words. :Lyra and Jemmie are quite nice, you know.:

"Oh, I bet they are," Draco said sourly. "They probably help little old ladies across the street and rescue baby birds." He kicked viciously at the ground, uprooting chunks of grass. "You didn't mention when you rescued me that joining the side of the self-righteous was part of the deal."

:I didn't have time to mention much of anything, if you recall,: Orelia said irritably. :Or did you expect me to begin a lengthy debate of good versus evil while those men were trying to murder you?:

"What does that have to do with anything?" Draco snapped. "I remember what that other Companion said - you didn't have to Choose me. You could have just gotten me out of there. Now I'm stuck here, surrounded by the kind of people I hate most! Why did you do this to me? With all the self-sacrificing, bleeding-heart lunatics in the world, why the hell did you pick me?"

:You were the one I wanted,: Orelia said simply.

"Is that supposed to make me guilty or something?" Draco said, lip curling. "Your wanting me isn't going to make me fit here any better. It won't magically make me into a different person. Face it - I'm not one of these people, and I never will be!"

:You don't fit the conventional concept of a Herald, true,: Orelia conceded. :But that doesn't have to mean anything. Herald-Captain Kerowyn was a mercenary before she was Chosen, and Talia already told you about her friend Skif. You can start anew here, Draco. You can decide what you want to be.:

"Oh, sure - as long as I decide I want to be a Herald!" Draco said angrily. "I can make any choice I like, as long as I choose according to your Choice. You want me to become a champion of the light? While you're at it, why not ask me to fly? It's about as likely!"

:Especially if you're a wizard,: Orelia agreed. :Don't you have broomsticks?:

Draco glared at her. "Don't you dare twist my words around."

:I'm not,: Orelia said. :I'm pointing out flaws in your argument.:

"Stop it!" Draco shouted.

:No,: Orelia replied. :You're at a crossroad in your life, Draco. There are so many directions you could go from here, can't you see? I'm just trying to make you understand.:

"Understand what? That I should do a complete about-face and change my entire personality?" Draco snorted. "No, thank you!"

:That you have so much unrealized potential within you,: Orelia said earnestly. :You're twisted up inside, Chosen, with what you feel warring with what you think and what you believe. Haven't you been feeling it, since the moment you came to this world? You could be someone else, but not someone new. You've always had these possibilities within you, but now you have the chance to set them free.:

Draco stepped away from Orelia suspiciously. "What are you talking about?"

:I can see it all in your head, Draco,: Orelia told him. :I knew all of this the moment I saw you. You could be a Herald - or you could be a Death Eater. You could go either way.:

"No." Draco backed away further. "No, you're wrong. I don't want to be a Death Eater, but that doesn't make me one of you! If I had that in me I would have known it. I would have been a Gryffindor, one of Potter's minions. I'm a Malfoy, a Slytherin, a certified evil bastard - I don't belong here. I don't want to belong here!"

:You're so sure that you know all the answers, aren't you, Draco?: Orelia said gently. :But suppose you don't. After all, what is the difference between an angel and a devil, save their choices?:

"Devils are evil," Draco said flatly. "They oppose the angels at every turn."

:And how do they know to do that?: Orelia countered. :The best of the evildoers know how to get inside the angels' heads. They understand them. They can see the forces of good in the world, but they make the decision not to follow those forces.:

"Oh, that's a great argument," Draco sneered. "Except for one problem - I don't believe in your forces of good. Did you forget that? People who say they work for good are just too cowardly or too stupid to get ahead. Good and evil are just words. Power is real, not those abstractions."

:Do you really believe that, Chosen?: Orelia asked mockingly. :Or did you just like the way it sounded when someone else said it?:

As Draco sputtered indignantly at this, Orelia continued. :I know you believe in good, Draco, if only because you've spent so much time trying to thwart it. Haven't you always been drawn to the forces of good, in a roundabout way? Why spend so much time trying to hinder them, if they don't matter to you on some level?:

"I hated them!" Draco shouted. "Don't go trying to tell me I secretly wanted to be Harry Potter, because it damn well isn't true! I hated them all, and I wanted them to be in as much pain as I could give them!"

:I know, Chosen,: Orelia said. :I know everything there is to know about you, good and bad both. Have you ever heard of knowing another person better than you can know yourself? Think of that now. I can understand you, Draco darling, because I'm not you. I can see who you are, because it isn't who I am. Companions don't Choose wrongly. When we Search for our Heralds, we don't make mistakes. I know who you are, and I know where you can go, and I know that you can do this. You can become this.:

"You're wrong," Draco said, but he was able to muster less confidence this time. "You have to be. That can't be part of me. If that's in me, then I'm not who I thought I was."

:I would say that you aren't who you thought you had to be,: Orelia corrected. :You're on the right path already, Draco - you just got turned around in the wrong direction. You can see the goodness of the world, but you don't know how to touch it.: She looked at Draco pleadingly. :Let me be your link to the beauty of the world. Let me help you walk your path.:

Draco hesitated. He wanted to go with Orelia so much that it hurt, but he didn't quite dare. Agreeing with what she said would undermine everything he'd believed in his whole life. His father had always told him that to be noble was to be taken advantage of, that kindness was weakness cloaked in a pretty name. No matter how much he wanted to be with Orelia, what would happen when his father learned of this?

And then Draco realized that he was still thinking in terms of being able to return. But he couldn't go back, not to the way his life had been. He'd left that already, when he'd refused to become a Death Eater. No matter what he did here, he was already damned in Malfoy eyes.

So why not do what Orelia asked? Draco looked at her guardedly, remembering the glory of the moment when she'd Chosen him. She loved him unconditionally, in a way that Lucius and Narcissa never had. She would love him even if he decided to turn against the Heralds and take another path.

He still wasn't convinced she was right about his ability to become a Herald. He might fit a lot of categories, but the one of Good and Upstanding Citizen was not among them. But he had to find a new path to walk now that he'd left his old one, and this seemed as good a road as any. He could always reconsider when the Heralds found a way to send him home without hurting Orelia or himself. For now, he would stay with his Companion. He had nowhere else to go.