The Summoning of the Dragons

Chapter Three: Visions and Vices

Ron slumped down in his chair at the round table where he, Harry and Hermione always had lunch together. The tables in the room all faced an enormous window that covered one whole wall ceiling to floor. Outside, it was nearly sunset over the green hills. As Ron watched day fading to dusk, he saw in the distance fifty or sixty owls heading towards McGregors. The late owl post had arrived.

Pigwidgeon swooped in nearly taking out a chandelier in the process, a scroll tied to her leg. She hopped up and down merrily and immediately snatched a nibble from the basket of bread on the table. "Go on, take it" Ron sighed, and handed Pig the remaining chunk. "Keep it up and your wings won't be able to lift you from the ground, cheeky girl." Pig was still a weeny owl, but her appetite was that of a boar hound. She was round and fat as a tennis ball.

The seal on the letter read "PA, London." Ron looked at the parchment quizzically, unrolled it and ogled the signature.

"Parvati Patil? Why should Parvati be owling me?" he wondered.

The script at the top read "The Promethean Academy for Advanced Divination."

***

Hermione slid off the bench and bent down in front of Harry. Her curls trailed down her back and with the roses behind her, she was a vision to behold, if it wasn't for the shadows under her eyes. "Harry, something has been going on lately, and I'm really sorry I haven't told you until now, but ..."

Harry accidentally knocked his book off the bench.

" ... Draco and I have discovered something. It all started in Potions class --"

Harry stopped her. "This has to do with Malfoy?" he asked suddenly.

Harry was tired. He hadn't slept enough the night before, images of sleek green scales kept flashing in his brain even in his daydreams, and his scar throbbed with the pounding of those wings ... they reminded him so precisely of Draco Malfoy. They were connected, he could feel it. The clear and quiet voice of a tortured child tugged at the sleeve of his subconcious and he doubted Hermione, his Hermione. Who was staring at him, waiting for a response. To what? He had missed what she was saying.

"Could you perhaps speed this up a bit? Draco Malfoy is nowhere near the top of my list of 'people who matter' these days," Harry clipped.

"Harry?" Hermione looked taken aback. "He's important to us if this is going to work -"

"No, he's only important to you, apparently. If this is about you and Malfoy. I guessed it weeks ago. Bollocks, even Ron could see it happening. I just wish you hadn't told me I was an idiot when I tried to talk to you about it."

Hermione stood up, her back stiff and straight as a ruler. "Well. You obviously need to be alone with your idiotic and preposterous thoughts, so I'm going to dinner." She turned, as if suddenly reluctant to leave. "There is something you need to know, Harry - '' her voice turned to a plea before she collected herself - "and you may even thank your enemy before it is over." She turned and left the garden of roses, magically blooming on their thorny vines.

Harry was left there with his thoughts. There was only one thing he knew for sure.

Malfoy needed talking to. Now.

***

Hermione felt remorseful almost immediately after she left Harry. Damn it, she thought. My big mouth. Her quick temper had gotten her into trouble in more than one relationship. With Ron it had been horrible, they were constantly at odds. Krum had been only a summer love, and she couldn't stand it that he didn't spar with her. He let her win every argument and was a complete bore.

Then there was Harry. He was a good match for her. She undoubtedly earned better marks than him, but he had better instincts. He respected her opinion, but never let her run over him. He humored her "phases" of obsessions, starting with House Elves and ... well, the last thing was preservation of the McGregors wall, a historical structure designed to magically prevent darkness from entering the grounds in ancient days. It was covered in writing that no one could translate anymore, full of etched pictures of horrible creatures meeting their doom. Long ago, it would have been an altogether formidable structure. Now crumbling, the administration had wanted to tear it down for a new Quidditch practice field, but she led a crusade to save the beautiful, horrible stones.

Hermione was halfway to her room before she remembered she was supposed to meet Ron for late meal. "Bugger," she swore under her breath, but decided to keep to her path straight to her room, with its hot shower and fluffy bathrobe waiting for her. She had miscalculated and waited too long to talk to Harry. She blamed herself partly for the fact that he jumped to conclusions about Draco. However, they had no time for this. If Draco was correct, Harry needed help.

If Draco was correct.

She realized that despite the fact that she had spent most of her spare time with him for weeks, a grain of doubt still lingered about Draco. This was still a Malfoy. The boy who had spat at her "mudblood" and disrespected the memory of Cedric in front of the entire school body at Hogwarts ... the first boy who ever aroused passion in her for violence when she slapped his face in third year. She hoped that she had made the right decision in believing him.

"Quixotic Calculi, Alohamora" she said and the door to her room opened. She sank onto a amber-colored parlor chair and Crookshanks leapt immediately into her lap. She had a lot of work ahead of her. The potion wasn't completely revealed by the spells she had tried thus far, and she would need to know what was going into the cauldron before she could figure out a counter-potion. The Black Erisedym Potion was extremely complicated and according to history not written down in any book anywhere. The performing of it was passed down from one dark wizard to the next, changing and growing, becoming more dangerous along the way. There was so much to do, she needed to decide on a locator spell, decide if Ron should know or not, finish her Arithmancy essay ...

Now she was on her own.

Well, not completely. She did have Draco.

***

As Draco Malfoy left History class, he thought he might seriously be in danger of dying from the dullness of it all. Not that Professor LeVey wasn't an excellent professor; he was, as was nearly every professor at McGregors. It was the premiere facility for training Aurors in Europe. But the subject matter was so woefully beneath him he wanted to cry out in pain every time some silly bint in class missed a question about the Father of Fire Magic or the Pyromancer's Council, or what year purity-and-poison potions were declared legal. He hated being a first year when his fellow students from Hogwarts were nearly ready to take the RHATs, Ridiculously Hard Aurors' Tests. Simply knowing he was better than they were wasn't good enough any more. Now he suddenly had to prove it at every turn and it was becoming ... well, boring.

He turned a corner and the hall was deserted. Except, that is, for a messy black-haired someone who was striding towards him looking determined.

Draco stopped where he stood and waited for Harry to come to him. Looks like Hermione finally told Potter, he thought. Oh, squee.

***

Ron had given up on Harry and Hermione and taken the mysterious letter from the Patil sister back to his room. Harry was not there, either. He flopped onto his stomach on his bed and opened the scroll again.

"Dear Ron,

Sorry to confuse you, I used Parvati's name in case this letter was captured along the way. She says hello, by the way, and wants to know if you are going to the match Saturday. It is a home game for us and I would love to see you and Fred and George. I think Parvati has a photo of you she uses to bookmark her astrology book ... what do you think about that, big brother?

I do have something serious to discuss with you. I'm seeing things that I think I should talk to you about. Can you meet me for lunch tomorrow in Hogsmeade? It might be nothing, but the visions keep repeating, and I think maybe Charlie is involved, too. Today in my afternoon teacup, not even in class, the leaves showed clearly a Chinese Fireball. It was an image in the leaves, then it took form and swirled in my cup - the eyes were different from other dragons, Ron. They were hypnotic. I don't even know how long the trance lasted, and when Parvati woke me I dropped my teacup and broke it.

Owl me straight away if you can meet me tomorrow. I promise not to allow Parvati to come along. Although she will be angry for a week when she finds out.

Owl me RIGHT NOW RON!

Love from Ginny

PS: How is Harry? Are you watching out for him? Also Hermione.

Ron put the scroll away. Now what was she on about? He pulled out a parchment and started to scratch out a reply. Pig was overjoyed and hooted gleefully in the corner.

***

Harry marched straight up to the blonde figure leaning against the banister. He wasted no time. "What the bloody hell do you think you're doing, Malfoy?" he started, standing about and inch from Draco's face. "What line of dragon dung have you fed her, and why do you even care to speak to her. Answer me, now." He had his hand on his wand.

Draco looked as though he could start filling his nails any moment. "Potter, you ignoramus. Your arse is on the line and you have nothing better to do than harass me. What kind of death wish do you have, anyway. Declan is a serious boy, Potter. He's a Malfoy, and we do not play at magic. I also believe he's gone slightly mad, enormously embarrassing for him ... and decidedly dangerous for you."

Harry blinked. "Who's Declan Malfoy?"