Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Harco Empire	By : Toddy Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 34430 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or films. I do not make any money from the writing of this story, just enjoyment.

Chapter List
- 265
- 266
- 267
ISLAND BATTLES
[Note: “x-x” = speech & ‘x-x’ = thoughts & *x-x* = telepathy & #x-x# Parseltongue]
One of the first official engagements after the May Day celebrations was Konstadin’s instalment in the Okruh. That was shortly followed by Farad’s ceremony, making him the vice-chancellor of Sophiamonastir. He and the three returned mages set about preparing the place to receive the first new students in September. They spent much time consulting with the other schools and choosing which initial courses to offer. It became very apparent that courses for older students had also to be offered. These would be centred around symposia, where the older mages would come and swap charms and learn new protections.
###
It did not take long for Silas to decide that a peaceful life tending plants was more to his way of thinking. In order to make this permanent he realised he had to ingratiate himself with the seers. To that extent he realised that, despite his misgivings, giving them information about Lucius’s headquarters was the best way. Without his wand or a medallion, he was confined to Teinamoray, so he had to wait for one of the seers to appear.
Whilst on the Hebridean island, he had found Rory to be a monosyllabic introvert with a firm idea as to what was right and high standards of behaviour. More than once, Silas had found himself connected to Arabella for some misdemeanour. When this happened, Silas consoled himself by remembering that the Seignior’s punishments had been much worse. Even if his mobility was severely restricted by the vines; at least, Arabella’s ministrations had a pleasurable side; whereas Lucius’s were life threatening.
Towards the end of May, Harry came to call, so Silas approached him.
“I have thought about making recompense, Harry. If I am allowed, I should like to share with you the knowledge about Ynyshud.”
“What is Ynyshud?”
“The island in St Bride’s Bay where the he has his headquarters.”
“I take it that it has a concealing tholus?”
“Yes, one with repelling and misdirecting charms on it. Only satraps may enter because the tholus charms a keyed to individuals.”
“Do they become expunged when they die?”
“I’m not sure, but knowing him, he just deliberately forgets about the lost ones, as he calls them. I don’t think he likes to be reminded of his diminishing band.”
“Is there a system whereby new recruits can enter? Rather like the temporary permission you were granted initially.”
“He doesn’t get many, but we have brought prisoners in, by skin-contact.”
D: *Careful, Harry. Don’t frighten him off by asking him outright to go there.*
H: *I will be.* “Perhaps you could draw a map for us, detailing the main places and points where the defences might be weakest.”
Summoning parchment, they got down to map drawing. Silas/Theo was a good cartographer and managed to include certain geographical features on the mainland, to aid recognition.
###
Using that map, Draco and Harry ported to Glaswelltdy and used the Phaetons to Llanaurdy in southern Wales, greeting the Gallups as they passed through, before cabinetting to the Cadwallader family. Mari and Owen were very pleased to see them.
“Do you fish in St Bride’s Bay, Owen”
“Quite often. It’s a full day’s outing though. Why do you ask?”
“There’s supposed to be a thaumically hidden island there, which we want to investigate.”
“It must be well occluded, because I’ve never sensed one.”
“It’ll definitely be well occluded.”
“Why’s that?”
“We think it’s the Seignior’s hideout.”
“Really? Count me in when it comes to invading it. What he did to the Gallup family was beyond the all reason. Young Gamaliel has still not fully recovered from his ordeal. He’s had some of the best treatment but is still nervous of strangers.”
“It’s good to be nervous of strangers.”
“But not ‘run and hide before they’ve spoken’ nervous, surely? He is improving slowly, but the healers say it will be a long haul.”
“He didn’t seem too nervous of us when we passed through.”
“No, he wouldn’t. His bedroom has pictures of one of you seers, and he keeps a scrap book about your exploits. I get shown the latest entries every time I pass through. The healers say it’s a transferral symptom that helps him deal with the trauma. I think he feels that if he’s defenceless you will pop out of thin air and rescue him.”
“More boy-who-lived-twice adulation, I suppose?” Draco suggested depreciatingly.
“No Draco, it’s you!”
“Oh!”
Harry giggled: “The founder of Draco’s fan club, no doubt.”
Draco grinned mock-malevolently: “I expect you to give me some of yours, to even the balance.”
“You can have them all!” Harry made a gathering and throwing gesture.
Then they burst out laughing.
“I imagine you want me to provide my boat as a base for your explorations. If so, we’d all better go to bed early; we’ll need to be on our way at six.”
“We hadn’t really thought about that, but it would be a good idea, thank you. We used boats as a base when we freed the Scandinavian academy.”
“Where is this island supposed to be?”
“Let me show you the map we had drawn for us. It has a few mainland geographical features on it to help.”
Owen brought out his charts for St Bride’s Bay and they compared the two.
“That’s Craigau Uffernol! A good way to hide an invisible island. They have bad tide races and sharp points. No sensible fisherman goes anywhere near them.”
“Our Welsh isn’t that good, what does it mean?”
“The infernal rocks. There’s an old legend that says it’s one of the entrances to hell. However, not too far away is a good bank for fishing, but it may have been a story to keep new fishermen away from the harvest.”
“So, you could fish whilst we explore, using our invisibility disguises.”
“Yes. If they’ve any lookouts, they’ll have seen me there many times.”
“Right, then! Early to bed it is. But not yet. Mari, will you show me your herb garden, please. Neville says you have some witch’s knawel growing there.”
“You can have some if you like.”
“I’m more interested in its growing habits, really. But an odd leaf would come in handy.”
Harry looked at Owen: “D’you think we might go and catch some fish for dinner?”
Owen nodded back: “If he’s anything like my Mari they’ll be there for ages.”
Harry chuckled knowingly: “That had crossed my mind.”
Much later, dinner was fresh-caught grilled mackerel and Welsh green-salad – Delicious!
###
Mari provided the trio with a foil-wrapped breakfast. That enabled them to leave as soon as the tide allowed it. Owen was introduced to Harry’s patented propulsion charm. That had them at the fishing ground well before any other boats appeared. Even then it was at least an hour before they arrived; taking turns to eat breakfast and steer. That early arrival time also enabled a careful circuit of Craigau Uffernol. Ostensibly they were looking for shoals of fish. However, many covert glances at Silas’s map and Owen’s chart helped the two seers to plot various exploratory stratagems.
Owen took up position above the bank and threw a line out. He then created an image of two facsimiles also with lines out. The Seers went underneath the cloak and mounted the duple. Their first pass was one where Draco steered, and Harry cast a careful observational charm, allowing its trace to seem to have come from the mainland. They stayed invisibly aloft, hovering to see if it had been sussed. Nothing disturbed the tranquillity of the tholus or the fishing bank. That gave our two enough courage to make further forays over the occlusion carefully mapping out what lay below it. Not that Harry cast any long-lasting search-charms. His were quick casts and at sporadic intervals. He also used some of the charms that the Marauders Map makers had used, transferring the results on to a conjured parchment. Thirty-nine passes later, both seers were exhausted and feeling fairly pleased with themselves when they returned to the boat.
“You cut things fine, didn’t you?” Owen observed in an exasperated voice.
“We didn’t think our tiredness showed!”
“It doesn’t, much. I was more worried about the turn of the tide and being stranded on the bank. We have very little water left under our keel.”
“Sorry, we became so engrossed in what we were doing.”
Owen cast the propelling charm and the boat moved into deeper water. “Your facsimiles were very good fishermen. As a penance you can gut the catch as we return.”
Owen thought that Harry and Draco would object, however, they shrugged and applied the gutting charms they had learned from the Scillonian mages. They also cast the preservation charms that had been learned there. Thus, the catch, when they arrived back at Ty Cadwallader, was all ready to be placed in their larder. Some being sent to the Gallups, as was usual, and some being put under keep-fresh charms ready for the Saturday fish market in Cardigan.
It had been a long and exhausting day. So, when H&D were offered a bed for the night, they accepted it gratefully. They did not fancy the excursions needed to understand the map Harry had made. Snuggling closely together they were soon asleep.
###
Having caught more than enough fish to satisfy the Cadwallader’s needs there was no necessity to go sailing. Instead, they studied the map Harry had made; as it were, joining the dots to make something comprehensible. That took until lunchtime. Our two then travelled back to Teinamoray to show their results to Silas. He was surprised at the clarity, but there were some mistakes based on our two’s conjecture. Chart duly amended, the seers returned to the cottage and called a Dumbledorian meeting for the following Saturday.
###
Not having been told the import of the meeting, a fascinated crowd heard of the seers’ exploits. Naturally, there was a consensus that something should be attempted. As the greatest majority were there, including those who were aurors and seneschals, they felt that there was enough authority to make an immediate decision. That verdict was to be enacted as soon as the cabinet had set out a strategy. As that took little time; So, once lunch was finished, the company set out.
There were members who had contacts close to Haverfordwest, where a linked community resided. Naturally the Gallups wanted to be included, calling on their clan to provide extra assistance. Thus, one mixed group of combatants gathered at Ty Cadwallader and the other in the Haverfordwest enclave. Two-thirty, a mass apparition took place, to the various planned spots on the coast, facing Ynys Hud. During lunch a small flotilla had set out from Ty Cadwallader and been placed, ostensibly fishing, the on the western side of the island. Each had a homing beacon, thus some of the apparators landed in the boats. At three o’clock the host arose, firing tholus-destroying curses and then more personal combative ones.
It was chaos. Some of the satraps were captured, a few seemed to come willingly. However, Lucius and his core stood firm. Not that they lasted too long, because they were easily outnumbered. Lucius was not to be taken by his upstart progeny. When he saw defeat staring him in the eyes, he cast two curses. One at his son and one at himself. Lucius died almost immediately, however, Draco did not.
###
Like his mate had been, Draco was transported into limbo. It was not the misty Kings Cross, such as Harry had encountered; it was more like the Manor’s gardens in their heyday. Only it was different. Instead of the garden being divided into room-like areas by hedges, these gardens were separated by water channels. Whereas the Manor’s hedges had rose arches connecting them, these islands had decorated bridges. Each bridge appeared to have a pavilion at its centre, and this pattern extended until it became lost in the misty surroundings.
###
Harry went looking for Draco. There were quite a few bodies strewn around, Harry hoped that his mate was not among them. The first person he found was Ginevra, she was crying, kneeling over a body. It was Astoria’s. She had been disembowelled.
“Sh-she sh-shouldn’t have fought … The family curse … Sh-she’s dead.”
Harry knelt beside her and hugged her, letting Ginevra sob herself into a sort of calm. Then they set about tidying Astoria’s remains up, conjuring a clean set of clothes to dress her remains; making the cadaver look as though she was sleeping. They called some family elves and had them transport the body to the Lady Chapel at St Godric’s. That done, with heavy hearts, they set about searching for Draco again.
He was not among the bodies, neither was he among the wounded. When they tried to mind-meld with him there was no response. However, it was as though he was busy and blocking, not like the void where Astoria had existed.
Harry looked at Ginevra: “I bet he’s found some puzzle or other, maybe an idea for a potion.”
“Yes, it feels like that. I think we should do the rounds, thanking people for their help and commiserating with those who have lost loved ones, or whose mates have been wounded.”
“Are you sure you can stand it?”
“Yes, Harry. It will help us with our grief, by sharing with others.”
After a few weepy dos with others, both of them found that their grief became manageable. Not that it went away.
###
As Draco contemplated his position, a door opened in one of the pavilions and Astoria came through it. Only it was not quite Astoria; she seemed to be almost transparent.
“Hello Draco, you may remember me telling you of the family curse.”
“Yes Tor. Do I suppose that it has been activated?”
“Quite correct. Only I have been given a respite, especially to help you. I am not allowed to return with you, which I might have been able to, if the curse had not been cast. So! Let’s get on with the task.”
“Hmm! I’m not sure what it is.”
“To reach the lake shore, of course, Ninny, by using the bridges.”
“How do we know the way?”
“I can help you, but not show you. What about the colours and the flowers here?”
“They are white, roses, daisies, elderflowers.”
“And the nearest surrounding islands?”
“Poppies, zinnias, carnations, they seem to be all red.
“What about the next islands?”
“Where are you going with this Tor?
“Just stick with it; and answer the question.”
“Chrysanthemums, marigolds, ball flower tree, orange, of course.”
“And the islands encircling them
“Daffodils, mimosa, freesias, all yellow.”
“Does that remind you of a progression, Dray?”
“Progression? Hmm … Rainbow … How about the visible spectrum, because the next lot, too far away to make out properly, appear to be green.”
Astoria clapped her hands: “Now you have a working hypothesis. Which bridge are you going to choose? You are allowed to open the pavilion’s doors, but once you step over the threshold you are committed.”
Draco looked around the island he was on. Things seemed to be not quite solid if you peered at them for too long. Buildings or maybe doors could be seen on each bridge. He could have been looking around a muggle tourist’s idea of London. There were the Houses of Parliament, Buckingham Palace, the Tower of London and, for magical visitors, the Leakey Cauldron.
“You came out of the Tower, Tor. I suspect that that door would show me the veil. The one Harry described Sirius falling through.”
“That is correct. If ever you return to the land of the living, tell him that Sirius loves him and congratulates him on his choice of partner.”
“I suppose I should go for the Leakey Cauldron, but that choice seems too obvious. So, Parliament or the Queen’s residence. You did say I could open the doors, didn’t you?”
“That’s correct.”
“Hmm … Let’s see what the government is doing.” Draco opened the door, he could hear shouting. At first, he thought it was the usual rowdy debating. Then a figure appeared running down the corridor. One he recognised – Vincent – but the figure was ablaze and, as the blond watched, a demon caught the fugitive, dragging him back inside. Draco shuddered and hastily shut that door.
He was cautious when he opened the door into the palace. There was no queen on the throne. Instead an image of his father sat there, nor was it a royal throne. This chair was made of ice and Lucius smiled grimly at his son, cane in hand and patting his knee. Draco knew what that meant – another painful thrashing. No way would he endure that again willingly, so he shut that door, as well.
Opening the Leakey Cauldron’s door, he saw his godfather sitting at a table with a steaming cauldron in front of him. Draco held back. Did he have to be punished, to pass through? If so the caning, would be the option to choose. Then he thought about the atmospheres he had encountered. Heat, cold, welcoming. He thought he’d try the soft option and walked into the magical pub.
“You selected the correct one, Draco. Now my task is finished.”
Draco looked back and saw Astoria open the door into the Tower. As he had suspected there was that filmy wavering veil. With a quiet smile and a small wave Astoria walked through.
###
“Welcome Godson, you chose well. I have a riddle to tell you. Your first answer, if correct will allow me to let you past:
‘He had all three, of rock was one,
When wrapped in this, his face was gone,
This last, all others of its kind outshone’.”
Draco smiled at Severus and considered the rhyme. It was obviously something tripartite. The ‘he’ seemed to be significant and that the rhyme was mostly in the past tense. Draco recognised three other significant males in his life apart from his godfather: Father, Voldemort and his dear partner, Harry. Which of them had owned three significant items?
It came to him: “The deathly Hallows!”
“Well answered, Godson!” Severus drew out a phial and ladled some of the liquid from the cauldron into it: “Keep this safe until you need it. Do not forget the words on the snitch.”
Draco drew a breath to ask which snitch, but Severus had turned his back and walked away. Draco picked up the phial from the table and followed his Godfather through the other door.
###
Harry and Ginevra sat in the Lady Chapel at St Godric’s, close to the open coffin containing Astoria’s body. For some reason John had not placed the bier centrally. As they consoled each other and wondered why Draco was still incommunicado; something almost visible appeared next door to the coffin. It could have been a body on a bed. Then again, it could have been a breeze blowing dust particles around. Both of them remembered the dust-devil at Number Twelve, before it was banished. They felt a thaumic presence and knew they must remain and mourn the loss of their bonded mate.
###
Severus was nowhere in sight when the door closed behind him; Draco found himself facing a field of poppies. He looked back at the door, it was contained in an arch within a mediaeval tower and had a posy of red carnations on it. Draco thought that they represented the care and love that his godfather had shown to him.
He stepped down into the red sea of flowers and onto the next island. The other three arches had posies of other red flowers attached to them. The one with red roses, contained a stern-faced knight clothed in black armour. Another, adorned by Showy amaryllis flowers, had a knight in brightly shining silver armour. This knight smiled broadly, too broadly for comfort, and our blond thought he resembled a certain DADA professor.   That gave him an uneasy feeling. The third had bedraggled zinnias attached, and when opened, revealed Sir Cadogan, the crazy knight from Hogwarts, dressed in red-rusty armour.
Draco stood back considering his options. The odd one out was the black knight, so he walked towards that archway. Then he paused, remembering Arthurian stories about the treachery of black clad men in armour: “No, not you!”
The statue screamed in chagrin at being cheated of its prey.   As it did so, flames belched forth from its mouth. Our man realised that he had been very close to hell and sighed in relief. Of the other two, one was duplicitous and the other crazy. No … Not Professor Gilderoy Lockhart … It would have to be the crazy knight. Draco stepped over the threshold.
###
“Have at thee!” Sir Cadogan held Draco up at sword point.
For a minute the blond thought his end had come.
“Thou must verily answer my drollery, Scurvy Knave:
‘To Arthur, this was given first,
By goblin forged, wield it who durst,
To basilisk and snake, it did its worst’.”
Draco scowled at the blade and its unmoving holder. Then he realised that there was a clue pointing at his throat. He also remembered a legend that the Sword of Gryffindor had originally belonged to Arthur.
“Excalibur!” he exclaimed.
“Thou hast the truth, kind Sir. Behold thy new domain!” Dramatically Cadogan opened another door and Draco beheld another field of poppies, welsh-poppies this time, eye wateringly orange.
###
In the lady chapel two weeping mates stopped their tears. The thaumic presence was greater this time.   It was not dust, they were sure, it was a body on a mattress. They recalled what had happened during the vigil when Harry freed Narcissa from Lucius’s domination. However, whose the body was, was not discernible.
###
Draco realised that he was not in the fabled land of the bards. These pavilions were Chinese-style pagodas which surrounded the field, their exteriors were covered in a red-gold gilding but contained other colours. He looked from whence he came. The closed door behind him contained blue decorations, the others were red, yellow and green.
Without stepping over their thresholds, our blond opened the other three doors and considered the possibilities. He was drawn to the smiling mandarin with his long pencil thin moustache, dressed in a yellow-patterned silk hanfu. There was a red dragon smiling at him, and Draco remembered that dragons were thought to represent good luck in Chinese mythology. Through the green doorway he saw a picture of steep terraced fields with coolies labouring in them. In the foreground was one such person, in a straw conical hat, diligently carrying out his agricultural duties.
‘It has to be the dragon or the mandarin,’ Draco’s pure-blood upbringing, suggested to him, ignoring the servant.
‘But then, it has been the odd one out, so far,’ whispered his conscience. But which one?
‘Two muggles and a magical? Two humans and a beast? That’s it! I’ll go for the dragon.’ On approaching the Chinese Red, it smiled at him and, as it did so, Draco saw the smouldering fire within. ‘That’s the second time I’ve chosen the hellish one, third if you count Vincent. That mandarin’s smile? Gilderoy again? Ugh!’
He stepped into the green-clad Coolie’s pagoda.
“Welcome, honoured one, your choice was excellent. Now listen to my little lay:
‘My purpose is to shed a light,
My dullness you must polish bright,
A willing spirit comes in sight’.”
Draco remembered Hermione telling him about muggle children’s pantomimes, held in many theatres during the winter season. One was set in an oriental world, partly Chinese and partly Arabian. It was a fantasy world that had a genie. That clinched it. Haroun and his genies!
“Aladdin’s lamp!”
“I think you have met the eastern mages, my Seer! You were so certain. As that is so, thus I may reveal your next task.”
The coolie drew aside a tent flap and Draco stepped through. Not poppies this time but buttercups.
###
In the chapel the other two seers were sure that the filmy presence was a someone with blond hair. However, his or her features were not recognisable. Their guess was that it was a Malfoy from one generation or another. They tried various ways of communicating but had no response. It felt like one of Draco’s blocks. They tried contacting Fawkes but that failed as well. So, they sat, holding hands, patiently awaiting for the fluence to reveal its purpose.
###
The yellow hurt Draco’s eyes to start with. He squinted around and found that there was some green underneath it, both on the ground and backing the other three jasmine bowers which were evenly spread around the clearing. He heard music, or at least something that sounded like music, it came from a man dressed in dark green and playing a fiddle. Draco might have called it a violin, had it been playing classical music, but it was not. These were lively dances with a certain Celtic blurring of the passing-notes. As his eyes grew used to the glare, he realised that there were other creatures dancing around, seemingly enjoying the tunes. They were not as alluring as Pan’s had been, but there was a subtle compulsion to join in the gyrations. Remembering his experiences with the satyrs, the blond blocked out the tantalising tunes, and studied the player. This being was seated on the steps of what appeared to be a Georgian town house, something akin to Grimmauld Place. But the idea did not quite fit; they had no doorframes, entwined jasmine sufficing.
He looked around at the other bowers, each also contained such doors, most noticeable were the semi-circular fanlights above them. Then he got it. This was a representation of Ireland. His conjecture was confirmed, because a leprechaun sat on another set of steps, seemingly conjuring gold out of the thin air. However, as the being placed the coins on the steps they began to fade. Draco remembered the incident when Gringotts prosecuted Ludo Bagman for loss of profits. The final door had someone in a green suit with a tall top hat, and a clay pipe in his mouth. He had a shifty expression.
Who to choose? The untrustworthy leprechaun? The enchanting fiddler? The shifty yokel? Which was the odd one out? Two humans versus a magical being? Two enchanters versus a yokel? The musician verses two non-singers?
One had to lead to the gates to hell, another hid the veil, only the third being the true way.   The fiddler was too outré for the blond’s liking, but then maybe he ought to allow himself to be ensnared. It worked out well last time. He also remembered Harry’s tale about the veil whispering sweet invitations. No, not the fiddler. Okay! Both of the others appeared to be hiding something. Then he noticed the colour of the door behind the leprechaun, it was red. As he looked closer, he noticed that there were blisters in the paintwork and a flickering behind the fanlight. That was the door to hell, he felt sure.
Taking a deep breath, he walked up to the yokel: “Please will you let me through your door?”
“Aye, I will, me boyo. But first ye must answer me little piece o’ flummery:
‘Bridal gift to Irish king I am,
But he mistreats the sister kin of Bran,
By warrior burst, but still of use I am’.”
“Oh Merlin, it’s the Mabinogi, isn’t it?”
The figure nodded but did not say anything. Draco sat on the step next door to the being and closed his eyes. He tried to recall one of his Celtic tutors, what Sheena looked like and how she spoke. With her full in mind, he saw his younger self sitting by her knee. He willed himself into that image. Matholwch came to mind and then his bride Branwen. What else was the gift? Cooking? Warriors? Oh yes:
“Pair Dadeni! The cauldron of rebirth!”
“Ye have it there me man. Through ye go.”
The yokel opened the green door, and Draco beheld a velvety lawn. It was fringed by green bushes backed by green trees. This was the misty backdrop he had first seen whilst he was talking to Astoria. Each plant’s colouration held a subtly different shade to its neighbours. Draco felt the peace of the glade and sweet sleep beckoning him, and he closed his eyes before he took in any more of his surroundings.
In his mind, as he slowly sank into oblivion, were the words of a poem about the land of the lotus eaters:
The breeze seemed to be blowing faint traces of music. Draco wondered if this was another of Pan’s ploys. But a dreamy voice began to speak:
   “There is sweet music here that softer falls
   Than petals from blown roses on the grass,
   Or night-dews on still waters between walls
   Of shadowy granite, in a gleaming pass;
   Music that gentlier on the spirit lies,
   Than tired eyelids upon tired eyes;
   Music that brings sweet sleep down from the blissful skies.
   Here are cool mosses deep,
   And thro' the moss the ivies creep,
And in the stream the long-leaved flowers weep,
   And from the craggy ledge the poppy hangs in sleep.”
   Draco lay, insensible to his surroundings. Should someone creep up, with mischief in mind, he would be totally at their mercy.
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