Draco Sinister

Chapter Four - Dragon and Glass

As they flew, Draco discovered that the Epicyclical Charm worked a bit like a compass. Every twenty miles or so he would have to pause and reattune it, and the others would stop and watch, hovering in midair.

Because he was the navigator, he flew ahead, with the others following him: Harry second, then Ginny and Ron behind. He was actually quite enjoying the flying. They had been flying low over a thickly wooded area for several hours, just skimming the tops of the trees, and the pull coming from the Epicyclical Charm had been growing stronger and stronger. When, after another hour, he paused and touched the Charm again, images came to him in a surge like a tidal wave: the forest, the burned castle, the round tower. And Hermione. He felt almost sure that the forest in the visions was the same forest they were flying over now.

He looked over at Harry, Ron and Ginny, who were hovering a little ways away, and felt just a bit smug. There's no way they could do this without me. Not even the great Harry Potter.

He was about to call out to them that he was sure they were getting close, when a flicker of movement below him caught his eye and he glanced down. And stared in surprise. It was difficult to see through the thick canopy of interwoven branches, but Draco thought he saw a line of dark figures, like a column of ants, wending their way between the trees. Were they people? It looked like much too orderly a column for animals -- but it was hard to tell.

Draco leaned forward, trying to get a better look. And froze, as a searing wave of cold suddenly washed over him. He jerked upright, but the cold didn't vanish -- it was cold like no cold he had ever experienced, cold that burned and slashed at his insides like knives.

Suddenly terrified, he tried to yell out for Harry, but he couldn't hear his own voice over the voices that suddenly began shouting in his head.

You're not my son. That was his father speaking, of course it was his father.

I am still young; I can have other children.

Draco clutched at his broom. I don't care, he said stubbornly to his father, I don't care, but Lucius Malfoy's voice was suddenly swept aside by a rising and howling tide of other voices, voices he didn't know. Voices screaming in pain, choked off in blood, voices he remembered from his dreams, crying out in agony...and a man's voice, rising above them all, hoarse and angry, You lied to me! You lied to me!

I never lied to you! A woman's voice, shouting her reply: You just believed it because it was what you wanted to believe!

You'll be sorry you ever said that. Don't think I won't hurt you.

Nobody can hurt you like I can.

No! NO! The unknown woman was screaming now. What have you done to him? Where is he? Salazar, what have you done?

Draco covered his ears, but the screaming went on inside his head, and worse than the screaming was the terror, pure terror washing over him like a thick black fog. Icy fingers of cold gripped him, prying his hands from the handle of his broomstick, pushing him over backwards. He saw the world turn upside down, the sky at his feet, and then, as he fell, everything went black.

***

"Harry? Harry! Everything all right?"

Harry glanced up to see Ron looking at him with concern.

"I think so," said Harry, aware that he probably looked pale and unhappy. "If I didn't know better, I'd swear there were Dementors around." He slowed his broom to a halt, put his hands up to his face, took off his glasses, and rubbed his eyes.

Ron paused beside him, and a moment later, so did Ginny. Harry shuddered. "I feel so - cold," he said.

Ron shook his head. "I don't feel anything."