The Darkwood Wand

Revelry, Part One

This is the first of three Ravenclaw Party chapters. The layout and some details of the Ravenclaw Library were inspired by Edgar Allan Poe's story "The Masque of the Red Death."

After dinner, Draco lingered in his room to wait for Tennant. Surely the wizard would change out of his bloodstained shirt after eating that huge, rare beefsteak. Disgusting. But Tennant never showed, so at eight o'clock Draco threw back a shot of sirenscotch for courage and began the trek up to Ravenclaw Tower.

He ignored the staring students on the tower's spiral staircase and stepped up to the portrait of Sir Gariant Ollivander. The old medieval knight sat under a cypress tree, shaping a block of wood with a long knife. Curled shavings lay scattered on the grass and tangled in his long white beard. An open scroll also lay beside him.

"Fie! Thou art no Ravenclaw!" Sir Gariant cried when he saw Draco. He waved his knife. "Flee, villain!"

Draco kept his face impassive. "Draco Malfoy."

"Show thy wand," the knight commanded.

Draco held up the harlequin wand and Sir Garaint's eyebrows drew down. "'Tis no wand for thee!"

"I'm getting another one," Draco said, trying to keep his temper. Students were piling up on the other end of the corridor, afraid to come closer.

"A new wand? What wood? What core?"

Draco scowled. "If I tell you about my new wand, will you let me enter?" He'd like to wrap this up before Granger caught him bickering with a watercolor.

"Yea, verily," Sir Garaint said.

"African darkwood. Dragon heartstring. Ten and a quarter inches."

Sir Garaint leaped up, stepping forward until his face nearly filled the painting's frame. "A darkwood wand? For a Malfoy, who shall corrupt any wand of honor?"

"Open the damned door!" Draco snapped. Sir Garaint's portrait moved aside with an echoing slam, revealing a doorway, and Draco lost no time stepping inside the Ravenclaw Library.

He was inside a very large, round room with blue walls studded with screens and tapestries. The Ravenclaws must have removed most of the bookshelves, for the room's center held only squashy blue sofas and chairs. A magical phonograph swiveled its bronze horn at Draco as he entered, its crank turning in time to a light jazz tune. Muggle music, Draco knew from his required classes. There seemed to be a dress code and for once Draco didn't feel out of place in his black suit.

He hesitated by the entrance, feeling the weight of curious eyes. Murmurs rose, but no "Death Eater" or "Azkaban" hisses. Instead the whispers were speculative, the looks measuring. A few eagles pulled out parchment and jotted notes.

"He must be on the list ..."

"The last Slytherin to enter Ravenclaw Tower was the Bloody Baron in the eleventh century, seeking ..."

Salazar save me. Draco crossed over to a table by the room's greystone hearth and poured a firewhiskey. The crack of ice cubes rang through the now-silent room. Draco drained his glass and poured another. Then he moved deeper into the library.

According to a blueprint posted on a wall, the library's seven rooms were arranged in a curved line circling the tower's exterior, with only one room visible at a time. Draco passed through a narrow Gothic doorway to the second room, admiring the tall, stained-glass windows that lined the left-hand wall. Tinted lanterns cast delicate patterns on partygoers and furnishings alike.