The Darkwood Wand

Auras

Draco flew down to the Hogwarts grounds and landed, just a quick stop to catch his breath. He still felt a bit trembly in the legs. The air was clear and cold, and Gryffindor Tower loomed above him, distant and forbidding.

I wanted to protect you and wrap you up ...

Draco puffed out his irritation in a tiny white cloud. Some protection. Cold air could settle in a person's lungs, after all.

He once again mounted Vane's woefully inadequate Air Wave broomstick and took off for a search of the grounds. Low, slow circles as he shivered in thin transfigured clothing. Finally Draco spotted clumps of bristles and shattered wood near the Whomping Willow. Looked like the broom had fallen victim either to the storm, the tree, or both. Draco tied up the pieces with a quick Incarcerous and flew to the castle's front doors.

Once inside, he strapped Vane's broom to his back and headed to the dungeons, holding his bundle of wood to his chest. Draco's broom had been a top-model Starsweeper, layered with extra charms tailored to his weight, height and flying style. It would take months to get another customized broom, and all the gold in his vaults couldn't rush the job. The wood would need time to absorb such intricate spells.

Ah, well, he mused, it's my own fault. He was lucky it hadn't been his bones snapped and scattered on the castle grounds. Ordering a new broom would also allow him to tweak some of the navigation charms ...

Draco halted on the stairs, unsettled by this mature response. A few weeks ago he would have pouted and railed and sent unreasonable owls to Windswept Premium Brooms. Ah, well, carrying on won't do anyone any good—stop that!

Still scolding himself, he raised the Slytherin portcullis and entered the Common Room to find Daphne demonstrating auramancy to a pack of excited younger girls. Auras spun and shifted like swirling rainbows. Draco felt Daphne's magic wash over him despite his best efforts to creep along the walls undetected.

"Draco, your aura!" Daphne rushed to block his way, her blond braids flying. "It's changed! Such a lovely yellow and green!"

Trelawney's Auramancy color chart unrolled in the wizard's mind and he shuddered. His aura was friendly and helpful?

He had apparently spoken aloud, for Daphne nodded eagerly.

"And nurturing, Draco," she said. "So much caring."

At this point Draco realized he had misplaced his jaw, but he assumed it was in the vicinity of his knees. Daphne's girls were staring, reminding him of Trelawney's Divination Club.

Daphne clapped her hands. "I can't wait to tell Narcissa!"

"Please don't," Draco pleaded. He could only imagine his mother's owls.

Daphne nodded. "Of course, of course. I should allow your mother to See it herself." The witch looked at the wood in Draco's arms. "Is that a broomstick?"

"It was. Be careful, those are sharp—" Draco shut his mouth, horrified. Stop that.

Daphne stroked a bristle carefully. "A very unhappy broom," she said softly.

"Well, it's in pieces, Daph."

The witch smiled up at him again, and Draco wondered if she and Lovegood met up regularly and practiced that piercing yet hazy stare. Suddenly Daphne hugged him tightly, heedless of the sharp wood pieces. "Oh Draco! I knew you'd return to us!"

Draco rolled his eyes, rather uncomfortable. "Where's Nott?"

"I don't know." Daphne released him with a frown. "No one has seen him all day—I can't even locate him on my Dowsing map." She shook her head and her long golden braids whipped around.