Worthy Of Magic

Part 59 - Prey or Predator? (Part One)

Seventeenth October, Nineteen Ninety-Seven - Chambers of the High Council, Tower of Elysium.

Tom, Moody, Flitwick were having a solemn conversation about the latest plague to affect the wastelands when a knock on the door disturbed their focused mood.

"Come in," Tom said softly. They were expecting it.

Draco Malfoy swaggered in with a grin on. "So," he said with his trademark drawl. "How are things in Leader town?"

"Draco," Tom acknowledged.

"What do you want Draco," Moody grumbled. "Your note said it was urgent so quit the small talk."

"Ah, don't be a moody sour puss, Moody. Small talk is one of the few joys left in this hell."

"Draco." Tom cut in. "While small talk is appreciated, we are in the middle of a discussion. Your note did say it was urgent. So please, tell us. What is so urgent that it couldn't wait until the weekly congregation?"

Draco pursed his lips and then stuck out his palm with a sly grin.

Moody scowled but Flitwick just shook his head in amusement and summoned a bag of galleons into his palm.

"Daphne Greengrass and Hermione Granger just walked into the Elysium," he said. "They checked into the rentals last night."

"Greengrass!" Moody said in surprise. "She was there at the trail, wasn't she?"

"She was the one who killed my father," Draco muttered, "But anyway, that immaterial now I guess."

Tom raised his eyebrows.

"And Granger came from Hogwarts through the long way I guess," Draco continued.

"How are they?" Flitwick asked.

"Fit," Draco said with a leer. "Which means they found a way to survive someplace else. They were very curious about how the Rebellion and the Dark Lord united, Bellatrix Black and of course, the stain behind the scenes; Harry Potter. And since that line of thought coincides with your own, I figured it might rouse your own curiosity and loosen your purse strings a little bit more."

Silence reigned while the High Council processed Draco's information.

Draco turned towards the minibar counter near the huge bay window and poured himself a drink. He had a smirk on that just wouldn't quit.

"Did she mention anything about survivors from Hogwarts?" Flitwick asked softly. His heart ached as he recalled his last memory of his home and the people that he loved there.

Draco gulped his drink down and grimaced as his throat burned with pleasure. "Not much he said and poured himself another drink.

"Did you mention The Stream?" Tom asked. He steepled his fingers and sunk into his thoughts about the caravan that Flitwick had shown them and their surprise discovery beneath it.

The stream, Flitwick had said, had been dead for centuries. It was just an endless tunnel fogged with Goblin Lore. The only physical remnant of the myth of the tunnel being a source of power was the regeneration chamber. Even Flitwick, the rejected half breed, had managed to get his blood infused in the chamber by his father. It was never successfully used and served as more of a ceremonial gesture; welcoming a new born into the world underground.

And, yet, Flitwick had managed it. Tom felt it had something to do with the reactivation of the stream rather that Flitwick's own strength and skill.

"No," Draco replied. "I don't want anything to do with that freakshow."

"You call this useful information, Draco?" Moody said with a scowl.

Draco sneered.

"I just figured you'd want to recruit. I sure you need new perspectives if you want to crack the puzzle."

"Thank you, Draco," Tom cut in. "Was there anything else?"

Draco just stuck out his palm and waited.

Moody growled but Tom just summoned another smaller pouch and levitated it into Draco palm.

"Much obliged," he said with a mock bow. "Let me know if you want me to bring them," he said and sauntered out of their chamber.

Tom turned to Flitwick as soon as Draco left. "It's your call," he said. "They don't mean much to Moody and I, but they were your students."

Flitwick pondered over it for a moment.

"I'll go talk to them," he said with a note of finality.

Tom nodded.

"Now can we get back to the real problem at hand?" Moody grumbled. "The bloody vampires are beginning to get noticed by the folks in the wastelands."

It was open season on anything with a pulse after the destruction of the Ministry of Magic. The High Council and the Elysium was all that stood in the way of another war. A war in which their species stood on a severe disadvantage.

Trapped in a confined space with predators would never benefit the prey.

Tom grinned. Diplomatic conflict was his favourite playground. And it was gently brewing on the horizon.