Fire and Ice

Story tellings

Sighing, Draco stepped out of the twisted griffin wings and headed for the Slytherin dungeons, suddenly feeling too tired and worn out to return to Potions. He'd deal with the consequences when Snape figures out that Draco hasn't returned... which gave Draco around half an hour of peace. Walking slowly down the stone steps, Draco mulled over the information Dumbledore has loaded him with.

Lucius can't be up to any good. It's not in his nature to suddenly take an interest in his only son's life, and any excuse he was planning to throw at Draco, was going to be thrown right back at him. Just because Draco was intimidated by his father, doesn't mean he's susceptible to believe his lies.

Turning a sharp right, Draco reached a grey wall. Before now, Draco never had the time to appreciate the carvings near the Slytherin dungeon, for he was always surrounded by his followers, and it was seen unbecomng to be caught idle, especially as someone with a reputation like his.

Tracing his fingertips over the raised stone, Draco's breath hitched. Such prescision, such patience. His hands rose with each curve and explored every nook. The weathered walls exfoliated the raised calluses on his palms from Quidditch.

Suddenly, Draco broke out of his trance, and realised that his face was mere centimetres away from the carvings. Flushing slightly, he gracefully stepped back, and nearly gasped when he saw the wall fully for the first time.

The carvings told a story.

At the far left of the wall, a man's face was carved, emphasising his strong jaw and cold eyes. He almost looked like Draco. A flow of a woman's hair was cascading into the man's face, and he was flicking it away in annoyance.

The scene changed.

The woman and a girthy man were locked in a powerful embrace, his strong arms wrapped around her curvy figure so tight that the artist even took the time to chisle out folds of her body wrinkling under his tight grip. She returned his passion with equal desperation, as if they were on a time limit.

The scene changed again.

A crowd of ice-faced strangers watched disbelievingly as the girthy man breathed life into the woman, who whispered his name when she awoke, so close to death but snatched back into life at the last second.

The scene changed again.

The cold eyed man slashed his wand at the shorter, girthier man, who fought back reluctuntantly, despite throwing all of his skills into their deul. The woman with flowing cascading hair screamed behind them, as the image morhped into another.

Two sides faced eachother, each from one side of the wall. Both teams snarled and sneered at eachother, as they valiantly tried to pull the man and woman apart, who barely clung onto eachother. The opposing side who was pulling the man away spat at the woman, who cried and clung tighter to the man. Dragons and other mythical creatures tried to unsurp the man and take the woman to her family's side, but he batted them away, holding his forbidden fruit closer.

The final scene showed the cold, tall male standing atop of the second male, his wand and the other man's wand in his hand. The dead man's lover sobbed over his body, burying her face into his pulse-less neck. Her hair cascaded over his face, and the story began again, and again.

Transfixed, Draco stood for seconds, minutes, hours, not knowing or caring of the time, simply lost in the tragedy of the tale that his house walls were showing him.

"An amusing story, isn't it?" A cold, calculating, devastatingly familiar voice drawled behind Draco. Turning, Draco's grey eyes met his father's icy gaze. "It tells the tale of Godric Gryffindoor and his pityful affair with Sylia Slytherin, Salazar Slytherin's younger sister. The final scene shows Slytherin ultimately killing Gryffindoor, who's final breath was a curse on this school, to have the walls of Slytherin forever retell his story. His life was ended foolishly. Just as yours will."