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Awakening To the Dream	By : ChimaeraChan Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 45317 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-CH1
- 2-CH2
- 3-CH3
- 4-CH4
- 5-CH5
- 6-CH6
- 7-CH7
- 8-Ch8
- 9-Ch9
- 10-Ch10
- 11-CH11
- 12-CH12
- 13-CH13
- 14-CH14
- 15-CH15
- 16-CH16
- 17-CH17
- 18-CH18
- 19-Ch19
- 20-CH20
- 21-CH21
- 22-Ch22
- 23-CH23
- 24-CH24
- 25-CH25
- 26-CH26
- 27-CH27
- 28-CH28
- 29-CH29
- 30-CH30
- 31-CH31
- 32-CH32
- 33-CH33
- 34-CH34
- 35-CH35
- 36-CH36
- 37-CH37
- 38-CH38
- 39-CH39
- 40-CH40
- 41-Ch41
- 42-Ch42
- 43-Ch43
- 44-Ch44
- 45-Ch45
- 46-Ch46
- 47-Ch47
- 48-Ch48
- 49-Ch49
- 50-Ch50 *End Part 1*
- 51-Ch51
- 52-Ch52
- 53-Ch53
- 54-Ch54
- 55-Ch55
- 56-CH56
- 57-CH57
- 58-CH58
- 59-CH59
- 60-CH60
- 61-CH61
- 62-CH62
- 63-CH63
- 64-CH64
- 65-CH65
- 66-CH66
- 67-CH67 *New 6/6/2015*
- 68-CH68
- 69-CH69
- 33
- 34
- 35
Many apologies if there are probs with this chapter. I just finished it and I’m the type that comes back and changes things later so I may decide I hate this in a week. ^^ I think I got what I wanted in there for now. I hope this has fed some peoples curiosity.
kaka-she: Why would you think I was mad? I love that people guess, and are so excited, ya know? I get like crazy excited and it was late last night when I was writing; so sorry if it sounded otherwise. Hell, you could flame my story and I’d still luv ya for bothering to read and comment. ~glomps~
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

CH34

Surrounded by old, well kept tomes that reached up to the sky itself, immersed in a well of knowledge, one would not be surprised to find time did not work as it did elsewhere. There was a clock there, ancient and complex in its design. It echoed, each tick slow and loud in the cavernous room until absorbed by the seven walls as it had since the first book had been written, bound, and placed on its shelf. It was a room that required silence. Worlds murmured continuously and to break their flow was to awaken others that slept until called for.
“My lady, will you be needing anything else? I was just about to set off for bed but the house elves are always ready for instruction.” Narcissa looked up, blinking from the torch held by Sir Pascal Le Calve. She glanced at the large clock, surprised by the late hour.
“Forgive me, Monsieur. I’m afraid I was lost for a moment.” She smiled softly, brushing her growing stomach unconsciously as she had become apt to do. “There is so much to read; so many trails that end abruptly, misleadingly so. I have the feeling that I could waste away for years searching for the clues I need to the Tranza heir.”
“Many have done just that. I myself, was once one of them until I had been granted the honor to join our loyal group of scholars.”
Narcissa pursed her lips, forming a small pout. “I would have thought being the Sovereign of the Scion Dragon Clan would be sway enough for you to reveal a simple name.”
“I’m afraid, my queen, that none have the ability to draw that specific name from me. If you would be but patient and wait with the Council—?”
“The Council has done everything in their power to erase all lineage of the Heir. I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that they weren’t already hunting the poor child down as we speak. No. I must find the Heir before the others. Before it’s too late.”
“You seem quite jaded, my lady, for one so long outside of that certain circle of influence.” Sir Pascal placed an aged hand over one of the books on the table, searching the spine for signs of wear. He no longer needed to read a book to know its knowledge, one of the advantages to joining the Unvoiced.
She gave a soft snort, unrolling another parchment. “You saw how they all came to my aid when I was but a child, my parents newly slaughtered. Lucius was the only one brave enough, loyal enough, to stand by me and now he suffers for it. If they had but tried to stand against Voldemort…” She stopped and took a deep breath. She was not a naïve child waiting to be rescued anymore. She had those that depended on her now. Draco was in the forefront of her mind even as she listed over those of the Clan still left. She could not contact them yet, not when her power was fading. But once her child was born she would begin to assemble the scattered clan again.
Pulling herself from her thoughts, she continued grimly. “I have no delusions concerning the Council. The Domin wander my house, as if it was their own, even as the Council observes the Gates. They would have the world under their thumb at the suffering of the masses. I can’t imagine you could say otherwise. The Unvoiced have not had contact with the Council since the last Heir ruled.”
“We are but scholars, my lady, and as such have no allies but the Truth. That said, I would not trust my safety, nor the world’s, in the hands of the current administration.” Sir Pascal smiled ruefully. “Sometimes it is the lack of admission that is all we have as the Unvoiced.” He walked further into the room; his feeble legs and shoulders slumped with age slowing his pace. Down the towering book laden walls he walked until settling his torch high upon a shelf. “We can but point one towards the possibilities the universe holds. If you’ll excuse me, I tire easily these days and grow weary for bed.”
“Of course. Rest well, Monsieur.” Narcissa stood to return Sir Pascal’s bow with a demure smile and nod. Once the man had left through one of the many doors leading out of the room, she made her way to the shelf where he had carelessly forgotten his lantern. She trailed her fingers over the spines, letting intuition bring her to the tomes she needed. It was a start at least. Perhaps there was hope after all.

*******

“I’m telling you, there’s something weird about these birds.” Seamus repeated for about the thirtieth time that week. The raven merely watched him walk across the room, silent as Seamus cast suspicious glances over his shoulder before landing on Ron’s bed. “Can’t you put them in the Owlery or something? They’re creeping me out.”
“Seriously not in the mood, mate.” Ron grunted, face scrunched over his Potions text. “Can you believe those two? We finally get a break from Snape and they just have to ruin it by following his lesson plan. Traitors, the both of them.”
“Will you forget about your brothers for a second and look at those things? Look! They’re staring; they’re always staring with those freaky red and orange eyes! Have you seen them eat at all? They hardly move… Those aren’t normal birds!”
Ron looked instead at Seamus who was waving his hand frantically and looking a little wild eyed. “Dean! Will you shut him up already? It’s your job to keep him from interrupting study time.”
Dean looked up from his book. “I would but I’m too busy freaking out about this Potions essay. I can’t believe they gave us fifteen pages on this shit.”
“Exactly! Thank you for agreeing, mate.” Ron cheered in agreement. “They’re corrupt with power. Something must be done.”
“Whoa, Ron, I didn’t say that.” Dean said with a worried frown. “This is the twins we’re talking about. Prankster Gods… ring a bell? You might not mind going up against your brothers but I’m happy with my bits and pieces right were they are.”
“But you just said—”
“I know what I said, and I’ll keep saying it because it’s a hell of a lot of Potions homework. I’m not about to say it in front of them though.”
“Damn… surrounded by cowards.” Ron sighed, even as he decided that he really liked his bits and pieces where they were as well. That Crabbe thing hadn’t been as funny so much as horrifying. If anything, no one would be treating the new Potions Professors as anything but as Professors. At first he had been really happy to have his brothers teaching, they had always excelled in the subject although Snape had never been happy with how they applied his teachings in real life. Now… now he’d be happy if they’d just show a little mercy. The first week and homework was already piling up. He hoped Harry was getting his work while resting up; he’d need all the time he could get.
Annoyed by being ignored once again, Seamus looked for a more sympathetic ear. “Neville, mate! Come on, don’t tell me those birds of Harry’s aren’t weird?”
“Of course they are.” Neville said distractedly from behind his Herbology book. “And stop calling them birds; it offends them.” He turned a page and folded his slender legs under him. He hadn’t gained much height with his exritus, but his new strength and sinewy frame more than made up for it in his mind. If he had cared, he would have noticed that his new form had half the school checking him out; something about his purple-blue eyes and shoulder length bright brown hair had people interested. He wasn’t about to tell his friends about his Soul Form, although he had a feeling Ron may know. His Regal Sighe Elf blood allowed him to see through the boy’s glamour, not to mention he had caught Ron sending him curious looks, Floren Demi Fox ears twitching as if he could hear his magic moving.
“Oh, and what should I call them?” Seamus sighed, realizing he was not getting anywhere with his friends. Why couldn’t they realize there was something horribly wrong with those weird birds? If they weren’t Harry’s he’d have shooed them out the window already and locked it behind them.
“Fae for short, I suppose.” Neville said with a shrug. “If you want to get specific, they’re from the Draven Clan of Corinth on the fourth moon of Tyrain. From the blue markings I’d say the one with the red eyes is in fact a Chief Warrior. I really wouldn’t piss them off I were you… Hey, who took my notes on Reddened Blorsprouts?” He frowned up at Dean, who was holding the parchment guiltily. “You could have asked.”
“Neville… what the hell, man?” Ron gaped fishlike. “Do—do you realize what you just said? You have got to be kidding. How the hell would you know if they were from Tyrain?”
“Their claws. It’s rather obvious. They have the double nails inherent to the Draven Clan. I would have thought you’d notice… I’m a little surprised Seamus could pick up on it since he hasn’t had his exritus yet. But that could be a side effect of rooming with Him all these years.”
Ron stared for a full minute at his friend before scrambling to his feet and over to the two birdlike figures watching intently. Searching their elegant claws carefully, he could only wonder how he had missed the way the joint split into two separate nails on each claw. “Is it true?” He whispered, staring in fascination at the shape shifting Fae.
“They won’t answer, not without Harry.” Neville said with a soft laugh. It seemed things would be getting very interesting around the castle.
“What are you two going on about?” Seamus asked, confused by his friends’ behavior. Well, Ron was always gaping like a fish out of water over something, although he had been calmer that year. Since Neville had gotten back from break, he had seemed different, and not just physically. He was still silent most of the times but now it didn’t seem like it was out of awkwardness but because he was too busy listening to everything around him. When he did finally speak it was always with this all empowering confidence that was like listening to Dumbledore drop jewels of wisdom.
Shaking his head, Ron sat back on his bed weakly. “I’m not quite sure… I mean—Hell. Tyrain? No way… just, no way.” It had to be a coincidence. Once Harry got here he’d be able to explain it away… because there was just no way he was… well, Him.
“Come on! Why won’t anyone tell me anything?” Seamus growled, bouncing on his heels and glaring at the two ravens as if they were the cause of all his troubles.
Neville sighed, propping his book back on his knees and ignoring his loud friend. It wasn’t that it was a secret, the birds were right in plain sight; it was just that Seamus and Dean weren’t from noble families and wouldn’t know what he was talking about even if he explained. “Dean…”
“On it.” With a small sigh, Dean carefully placed his bottle of ink to the side and proceeded to tackle his blond friend to the ground in a tangle of contrasting limbs.
Ron ignored the wrestling duo, instead watching the feathered beings watching him.
“I’m not saying it’s certain. But it’s very possible.” Neville added, but it did nothing to stop Ron’s addled expression. Shrugging to himself, he decided to go back to writing his Herbology paper. Ron would have to face it eventually; Clans from Tyrain, the planet were the Allegiance of Fae was formed, didn’t send there kind for just anything. That, plus Malfoy taking the Soul Vigil Trial, and the rumors of the Domin floating about, was a good sign that this was for real. If it was Harry… Well, Harry was the best sort, wasn’t he? Brave, compassionate, intelligent, fair, total disregard for his own personal safety when faced with the suffering of others… sounded like the Soul of Ancient Night to him.

*******

Walking down the corridor, her prefect duties done for the night, Hermione couldn’t help but curse the fact that she had been muggleborn. Well, not really. She was still proud to be an example that you didn’t have to be born in some pureblood family to be a powerful witch or wizard. She was proud. A part of her felt special that, even with all the handicaps, she could rise to be the best in her class and a prefect with hard work and raw talent. Still… being muggleborn meant she had no Fae blood, meaning she could never rise to the ranks of anything more that Witch. Ron had the opportunity to become a magician, sorcerer, magus, necromancer, thaumaturge, warlock, fae wizard… it just wasn’t fair.
It wasn’t that she was power hungry or anything like that… not that almost godlike powers didn’t have a draw. She snorted softly. Heaven help us if Ron had the power to back up his temper. It was just another wall slapped in her face, but this one didn’t look like it could be overcome. She would have to find another way to help Harry survive. Just… carefully. She wasn’t going to walk that fine line between good intentions and twisted monster if she could help it. She knew her pride got her in trouble some times, and this time it could be deadly if she let herself get too cocky.
Maybe she could talk to Harry about it. He, of all people, would be able to understand where she was coming from. He had been born thinking he was normal… well, not that being a wizard or witch didn’t make you normal. Oh bother. She should just let the whole thing go. It was impossible, so not worth any more time thinking about it. She should go finish her homework for now and leave the studying only for ways to help Harry adjust with his new abilities. She had survived a full out attack against Death Eaters; she could find a way to overcome this as well.
There were other things weighing heavily on her mind that she knew she just didn’t have a chance of dealing with. Sighing, she absentmindedly called out the password and pushed her way into the empty Gryffindor common room. Taking her favorite seat by the low fire, she curled her legs beneath her and stared into the flickering flames, letting the bulk of what she had learned today sink in.
Draco Malfoy was a monster.
She could understand what Ron was; even the next step up, the Fae Wizards, she could get that. But this Soul Vigil thing… it was too messed for words. There had been only one book in the Restricted Section that had information on the Soul Vigil. She had watched as Madame Pince unlocked the heavily warded vault containing only three books, one of them the dusty, ancient monstrosity that’s only title had been both the crests of Gryffindor and Slytherin, in addition to the Blacks family crest and another, unfamiliar crest centered within the three that she had later learned belonged to a family named Tranza. The pages had been so old that she had feared they would crumple in her hands. She had only been half surprised when Madame Pince had not left her side while the book was with her.
She hadn’t had a chance to read the whole thing; it would have taken her, an accelerated reader, weeks to get through the thousands of pages of tightly cramped script. She had read enough to get an idea of what the Hell was going on and what changes to expect in the Wizarding World—Hell, the whole world.
Hundreds of thousands of years ago, three gods—yes, gods—pledged their unwavering loyalty and protection to another, a being referred to only as the Heir. These gods each sired a bloodline, Gryffindor, Slytherin, and Black and promised that, with every generation, a newly awakened child from each family would be given to the Heir. These children were called Candidates. If found worthy by the Heir, one would become the Soul Vigil, official guardian and voice of the gods, and virtual ruler of the Wizarding World. If that wasn’t ridiculous enough, the only way a Soul Vigil could become worthy was by slaying the other two Candidates in a formal ritual of battle to the death.
She considered herself to be an intelligent person. There were things in this world that could not be explained away with science and sometimes, even with magic. Her parents had been quite straightforward when it came to believing things for the sake of going along with the crowd. She could not, under good conscious, allow some sixteen year old from an obscure bloodline become ruler of the world just because they were supposed to be getting their orders from a god. It was like some barbaric cult horror story and that was just what they told the public.
What they kept in the family, for it was a family book specified only for Soul Vigil Candidates, was far more detailed and completely bizarre. Bizarre because they truly believed it. There were a dozen chapters on the hundreds of rules these Candidates had to follow from the beginning of their birth to the day they died. It went from grooming, to hobbies, to how they walked, and what they talked about, and who they spent time with, what they wore and ate, not to mention dozens of rituals they had to do. These people believed they were descendents of the gods and that their life’s motivation was to one day serve this Heir, a god living on Earth with three other brothers. Had she mentioned that the brothers were supposed to be horrible and enjoyed ‘accidentally’ killing off so called Candidates when they’re caught unaware?
She understood magic and science and genetics; the world throws abnormalities at you and you adapt and survive, or you die. Her human nature said no to the Soul Vigil. Free will, justice, righteousness, they were telling her that this was wrong. Draco Malfoy was the nastiest prat she had ever met, who had hurt her feelings and made her doubt herself more times than she could remember, and for the first time she couldn’t help but sympathize with him.
From the age of three he would have known what he was destined for. He would have known that, any friend he had risked the possibility of being killed, just because he cared for them. If he fell in love he would never be allowed to act upon it. His destiny was for the Heir and, if he did win his favor, when the time came he could be forced to bond and even marry with him. If the Heir chose not to do either, which was very common, Malfoy would be forced to live out his life alone, serving the Heir, without being allowed to marry or even sleep with anyone. He would be a puppet prince, forced to interact with the public and rule as the Heir saw fit… but alone, because everyone was a liability. His family, friends, even the people he may grant with a passing smile were all susceptible to being victims to the Heir’s enemies.
If he was lucky—and she used the term loosely—he would be able to bond with the Heir. It would give him power and the linking of their souls would prevent him from living a lonely, empty life. The downside of this was suddenly being taken off the untouchable list, letting the Heir’s brothers kill Malfoy if they felt like it. Only the Soul Vigil made the list, the Candidates were on their own, and the justification they had for killing a bonded Soul Vigil was that, now bonded to a god, he had to play like one. But, if the Soul Vigil wasn’t bonded, he was left susceptible to any mortal wishing him harm. Sometimes the Soul Vigil was married, if only to keep a visual front of power so the Ministry wouldn’t try to discredit the Soul Vigil, but then that led to a certain brother, referred to as La Lune in the book, coming around and murdering anyone the Soul Vigil cared for in a jealous act of revenge.
It was insane. Absolutely insane. Even if it was true, even if some disturbingly powerful beings had slept around and sired these bloodlines to help support this Heir, she still couldn’t understand what Malfoy had been doing the whole sixteen years of his life. Had he been preparing all this time, just waiting for this Heir to contact him? Was he prepared to serve him his whole life? Would he die for him? Kill for him? The book said it was an honor, that this Heir was some sort of bloody savior. Malfoy would be trained to be happy for the chance, and honored to die in battle to fight for the right to be Soul Vigil.
And if the Heir never came, wasn’t born that generation, Malfoy would be forced to serve in another way. He would have to marry someone chosen to have the right bloodline and sire children that may one day grow to be Candidates themselves. His life would never be his own but that of the gods… the gods that would kill him and his loved ones just for the fun of it. They were monsters, all of them, and if Malfoy really were a Candidate then the whole lot of them would soon be waking up and fighting for control of the world.
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Awakening To the Dream