The Summoning of the Dragons

Chapter Five: The Ancient Ones

Draco crossed the campus green and headed towards the girls' dormitories, the Hymnus ad Gallicinium ringing from the tower above. McGregors was built structure by structure across the centuries. WhenTowers Hall, the main building, would no longer hold the student population, another building went up. And so on through the years, all of them built of stone with slate roofs, but obviously in varying degrees of maintenance and style. From the air, the campus was criss-crossed by a maze of walkways connecting buildings to other buildings. Paths connected in Y-patterns as a result of no strategic planning of where walkways would need to be built. Towers Hall stood majestically near the center of campus - an enormous clock in the highest tower marked time for students and sang out on the hour, every hour, choruses of beautiful, ancient, magical hymns. Professor Viola from the ancient runes department believed that the notes promoted forward thinking in the students. (click to hear Hymnus ad Gallicinium http://duim.com/jennifer/ancient/14.ra)

The girls dormitory where Hermione slept was stone and built after World War II, when witches and wizards flooded universities and new dorms had to be constructed for the burgeoning student population. The new part of the dorms was built around a smaller, much older building that once housed a special sea-faring magical institute. It was said that the great witch Grace O'Malley had once studied in that room.

Hermione's room was in the older, lower part of the building. Harry realized promptly that Draco was not leading him to the first year boys' dorms on the far end of campus, but to to Hermione's. He followed silently, content to wait for Draco's next move.

Draco and Harry passed easily through the charms guarding the outside dormitory doors. They were set to allow all McGregors students during the day, but at dusk the house password activated and no one was allowed to enter without it.

Draco walked directly to Hermione's room. Harry tried not to wonder why or how he knew the way so well. They arrived and Harry knocked on the door. There was no sound from the other side. "She might be in the library," Harry said, but Draco shook his head.

"No. It's nearly dusk and she told me she would be here writing her Arithmancy essay." As if someone had suddenly drawn a black cloak over him, a feeling of foreboding began to tug at Harry. His mouth formed around the words to Hermione's password for the protection lock to her room, but Draco beat him to it: "Quixotic Calculi, Alohamora." Harry shot a daggered look at the lithe blonde boy striding past him into the room.

It was empty.

Hermione's quill was in its cradle. The desk was tidy and the room neat, the bed made, the fire in the grate was at embers. Harry walked to the one window of the room and looked up and outside. The glass was intact, the ground untrampled, not a stone disturbed.

But Hermione was gone. "Where is she?" Harry said aloud, checking the bathroom, knocking first.

"Not here," Draco replied succinctly.

"Something doesn't feel right," Harry mumbled, looking around. Her Arithmancy book lay on the floor. He picked it up absently and placed it on the stack with the rest.

Though the unsettling feeling was still tugging at Harry, he passed it off as side effect of bad dreams involving dragons and darkness. He sat on the bed, suddenly tired. "What are we doing here, Draco?"

"Don't call me that."

"All right. Hey you. Why did you bring me to my girlfriend's room? I know the way."

Draco scoffed, but didn't address that last jibe. "I wanted Hermione to have the conversation with you that she had planned this afternoon, when you were apparently a huge prat and stomped off like a spoiled child to find me and beat me up," he said. "Now she's probably overachieving in the library, drowning her boyfriend problems in a book. So I have to decide whether to wait on her to finish what she started or to finish it for her."

"Is this about your brother? Let me tell you exactly how this is going to happen, Malfoy. You have a secret and you want me to beg for it, to play your game and let you win. Well forget that pretty little scenario, because if you don't start talking right now, I will hex you. And I'll make it a good, strong one. Maybe something involving premature hair loss."

Draco considered Potter, who didn't frighten him in the lease, then looked away out the window. Where was Hermione? He was no good at conversation. Not this kind of conversation, anyway. "I told you. My brother Declan is loose on the countryside and it is you he is hunting. You killed my father - our father - whether you want to take credit for it or not. Declan is brewing a potion that will reduce you to nothing. Less than nothing. Hermione and I have been working on a way to save your arse."

Harry didn't know which part of that story to refute first, there was so much wrong with it.

"You have a brother. I'm sorry, you have a twin -" Harry paused to imagine the horrors of two Draco Malfoys wandering about in the world, "and he hates me. He wants to kill me."

"Well, I'd say there would be a great deal of torture first, but yes."

"And why should I believe a single word of this? You probably made up this little fairy tale so you could move in on Hermione, spend more time with her. To make me mad."

"Not a bad plan. It obviously would have worked."

Harry continued like he hadn't heard. "Herm's too nice to tell you to back off; she probably actually thought she was helping you in Potions. So you used her to annoy me. Malfoy, that sounds a lot more real to my ears than 'my twin brother is an evil mad genius and he wants to kill you so I have suddenly switched sides and am working with your steady girlfriend to settle the matter for you.'"

Draco rolled his eyes. He was leaning against the bed, legs crossed casually, arms folded in front of his chest, listening to Potter and willing himself not to screw this up, for Hermione. Maybe he should wait for her after all. Then he had a thought.

"I can prove I have a brother," Draco said. He reached down and swiftly unbuttoned his jeans.

Harry's eyes widened in disbelief. "What're you doing?" he cried.

Draco didn't respond as he drew down his jeans and black, silk boxers and pointed to his hip. He didn't seem modest about the fact that his pants were down, WAY down, so Harry willed his composure and looked down. Draco was pointing to an ornate marking on his left hip, Harry could tell it was words but couldn't read the. He moved closer and pushed his glasses up on his nose.

"Go on. Take a big steamy gawk," Draco said.

Harry pulled away abruptly. "What's this all about, Malfoy? Save it for Millicent, perhaps. I am not interested in your ... fleshy secrets unless they have something to do with the matter at hand. That being your sudden interest in my girlfriend."

"Look." Draco pointed again to his hip, still revealed above the place where his thumb tugged down at his clothes.

Harry cursed his farsighted green eyes as he squatted in front of Draco to examine the mark. It looked like a sort of web drawn in pink ink. In the center, very tiny, was the name Lucius Malfoy and the web cast out around him. Harry could clearly read the names on each of the strands when he looked at them in turn, but they seemed to fade when he looked away. Still, he clearly spelled out the names of both Draco and Declan Malfoy on one strand that split into two.

"Is it a tattoo?" Harry asked.

"No. It's a birthmark. The birthmark of my family, Potter. Only highborn wizards have them, so I don't expect you have ever seen one before." He looked down at Harry lewdly. "In fact, I expect you can stand up now. The free show is over." Harry glared. But he quickly stood up.

"What is that supposed to prove, exactly?"

"That I have a brother. That his name is Declan. And that we are twins. As for the rest of the story, I have resigned myself to your boorish attitude and decided to leave the matter to Hermione when she gets back."

Outside dusk had settled and Hermione still hadn't returned. "Where is she?" Harry said. "I think perhaps we ought to go look for her before it gets too late."

But Draco was looking behind Harry at something on the floor. Where the Arithmancy book had been lying something was lightly smoking. Harry followed his gaze and both of them knelt to look.

There, still smoldering on the walnut floor of Hermione's room, was the same symbol etched in Draco's hip. Harry picked up the Arithmancy book and turned it over. The web outline was burned through the cover exposing the backing.

Draco's face turned the color of parchment. Harry dropped the book to the floor as if burned and Crookshanks appeared and wrapped herself worriedly around his legs. Hermione was truly not coming home.

***

It was cold.

That was Hermione's first thought when she woke in the darkness and struggled to regain her senses. The walls were damp and ... ugh, slimy. Stone. Surrounded by stone. A sweet smoke filled her nostrils and she began to lose her battle to regain conciousness. "Please hurry" she thought and slipped once again into oblivion.

***

Ginny Weasley portkeyed to the lamppost directly out front of The Three Broomsticks and looked around for her brother. Ron wasn't waiting outside. A quick search of the pub proved he hadn't arrived yet. "Late," Ginny muttered. She placed a quick warming spell on her gloves and prepared to wait for Ron outside as every table appeared to be taken inside.

Ginny thought back to Harry's summer at her home following seventh year. It was the happiest time of her life, if too short. At the time she thought that summer would never end; every day seemed an eternity, every hour was precious. Harry truly became a part of the Weasley family. He passed the kippers in the morning, danced in the kitchen with her to music piping from the Wireless Wizarding Network, slept under her spare blanket in Charlie's old room. His scent lingered on it still ...

Ginny's eyesight began to fail and the early winter scenery of Hogsmeade vanished like smoke as the vision that had been tugging at her finally took hold and forced itself into her brain. The people shopping, laughing, talking and bustling by saw only a pretty titian-haired girl with a faraway look in her eyes. Perhaps she was thinking of her shopping list, or remembering a day like this long ago; but she was not. She was watching the future unfold across the clear sky of her mind, revealing itself slowly, seducing her, then mastering her senses.

At first, visions flitted across Ginny's mind quietly. Stars, then soft wings and water - dripping, dripping; then the moon clear and bright as a pearl cut cleanly into the night sky - now the dripping water again, becoming quicker - black stones, scales, green light, smoke and then faster the images flitting in her brain, barely lighting for a moment and then gone; green, black, silver, water flowing ---

CRACK.

Her eyes flew open. The street scene before her hadn't changed at all and Ron was still not there. No one seemed to have noticed her vision, though she felt cold and drained. She longed to sit down. "Hurry Ron," she implored silently. "They are coming."

***

Moonlight bathed twenty, thirty maybe more giant beasts in irridescent silver mail. The Great One, leading the others by more than two lengths, breathed rhythmically matching the pumping of his wings, the lift and fall of his enormous body, the beating of his heavy heart muscle.

The Great One did not turn to look back at his company. He communicated in silence with his weyr, holding their attention to him, drawing them towards him and towards the Master. All their thought was one, all their power connected like a web of invisible light, all their ancient wisdom and concentration was being drawn away from their homelands. The calling was being channeled and beamed across the miles like a point of light burning into their quick, ancient brains; summoning them, summoning them. "Not long now," he spoke to them who stretched their wings across the miles, high above cloud and clime, "we grow close to the Master." His words seemed to give them energy and they burst forward with renewed vigor leaving the East behind, heading into the West and the wizard who would have them for his own.

But dragons are nobody's pets. They came bcause they were called, but too ancient and complex is their thought for men or wizards. The Great One's yellow eyes did not sleep and his mind was strong as a trap. "Master, yes," he thought. "Master."

***

Draco was the first to speak. "She's gone."

Harry broke from his trance and stepped deliberately across the room towards Draco. "This. Is. All. Your. FAULT," he bit off each word and ended by pushing Draco in the chest and advancing on him. "What have you done? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE MALFOY?" Then quieter, letting go of Draco, a whisper: "Hermione." Harry rubbed his eyes under his glasses and sat heavily upon the bed. He willed himself to think straight. Draco must be telling the truth about parts of his story at least. He did have a brother and this brother was an insane prick. A kidnapper. What else was he?

Draco, meanwhile, remained utterly silent. He stared at the symbol burnt into the book on the floor. Harry took his expression for shock, but it was not. It was shame.

"Potter, it's a trap. Declan's taken Hermione hoping you fly off your broomstick and try to save her so he can catch you like an insect."

"Where would I look? I have no idea where she could be." Harry now paced nervously and ran his hand through his hair. He felt close to despair, his anger was barely contained. He was also desperate to find Hermione. Down to his marrow he knew that something was terribly wrong and he must find her. He looked at Draco.

Draco tried not to look eager. "Eager" was a dog-like, servantly way to look and totally unbecoming for a Malfoy. It came off as mild anticipation on his sculptured face.

"All right Malfoy. I reckon I will follow you if you know where she is. But I warn you that my wand will twitch to be put to your neck and if I were you I wouldn't sleep soundly."

"For the love of God, Potter, your threats are positively obtuse. Oh, I apologize. OB-TUSE. Dull-witted. Dense. And not frightening in the least. Put away that wand before you hurt yourself and Potter -- try to keep up." Draco strolled over to Hermione's dresser and began rifling through the contents of her top drawer.

"What are you doing?"

"Ah. Yes, here it is," Draco said and withdrew a small metal key. He pocketed it and started off with Harry trailing behind, fuming. He paused only long enough to pick up Crookshanks and then hurried out the door following wherever Draco might lead.

***

That's it! I apologize that it took so long to get here. Real life truly is a pressing problem sometimes. Please feel free to comment; I admit that this is a learning experience for me and only your feedback helps me grow (hopefully) as a writer. This is my first time writing a chapter story, though, so be gentle.