Hope you enjoy!
-lauralydney
Chilled legacy IV
Harry wasn't going to lie; he was taking it easy.
It was only his second day back to Hogwarts. Catching up with friends and teachers was the priority—a few pranks on Flinch here and there, visiting Hogsmeade, racing around the Quidditch field, grabbing some snacks from the house elves, and zero mystery solving.
All those wasted moments had, of course, only been his first day. Harry slept soundly in the Gryffindor dorm, never having imagined just how grave the snow plague really was.
It's not that he had forgotten the previous morning.
Whatever was behind this dark magic had to be a person. That was enough mystery solving for one day, right?
Maybe it really was just him wanting to take it easy, but a small nudge in the back of his mind told him that he wasn't all too ready to get back into the crime fighting action. All the friends he'd lost and mental scars he'd obtained made jumping into danger a bit less thrilling.
As was the life of Harry, more than one days' rest was enough before either he woke up and got to work, or the universe did its thing.
In the broad morning daylight, the young wizard walked down to the breakfast table, chattering merrily amongst friends.
The great hall was a bit chillier than usual, but Harry could hardly tell the difference. While the air might be cold, the atmosphere was warm with smiles, chatter and steaming food.
He sat, watching the various owls' occasional arrival.
Ron's owl brought him a letter. It was from the Weasleys. Deciding to read it later, Harry shoved it in his robe pocket, digging in to his eggs and toast.
Draco entered the cafeteria, not looking any better than the last time Harry had seen him. Though, one thing stuck out to him this time—gloves.
'Yikes. School must be colder than I thought.'
Guilt, like that of a student procrastinating homework crossed his mind before Harry waved it off (again) for later.
An owl, far too small to carry anything larger than a small book, flew over the students heads, yapping and squawking as he dove up and down in attempts to not drop the package.
A few students laughed and pointed.
Harry saw what looked like either a snow globe or crystal ball tied messily with strands of grass. The owl clung to its strange basket, but after passing the Hufflepuff section, its claws gave away, the ball falling on the Gryffindor table.
I shattered. Shards of glass flew and smoke filled the room. Students near the accident stood up instinctively coughing and complaining, only to freeze when the smoke began to take form.
The mist was familiar. Harry remembered the whitish-gray fog that had brought memories of a younger Syllabus Trelaway.
A prophecy!
In his state of shock and intrigue, a quick thought crossed his mind before the seer was revealed—please don't be about me. Please don't be about me. Please don't be about me.
A ghostly figure appeared before them. It was short with a large nose. Harry recognized it.
This was no human seer. In all honesty, Harry had no idea what it was.
Short and wide. Harry could be wrong, but it the creature appeared to be made of stone. In fact it looked as if someone had simply carved human features on a stack of boulders.
It grated against itself as it moved, and yet seemed surprisingly limber. Its skin was stone gray and unyielding with a thick mat of grass, apparently its hair. It wore clothes (also of grass) twigs and other natural object.
Is that thing dressed in moss?! Gross!
The eyes were the only thing Harry could not make out. They glowed a bright blue, unfocused and distant.
This was the same being that appeared in his dreams.
In a gruff voice it chanted,
"Your future is bleak!
Your kingdom will splinter.
Your land shall be cursed
With unending winter!"
It paused, hands clutching the stone head.
The room echoed with gasps and whispers. Everyone at the Gryffindor table had moved back a couple feet while the other tables leaned closer.
Harry looked toward McGonagall. She was speechless. Harry was unsure if she'd ever witnessed a prophecy before. From what he knew, the Headmistress thought all that seer magic was nonsense. But there was no way to deny the truthful danger at hand.
They'd seen the sings before their eyes—frosted corridors, snow inside classrooms, floors turned to skating rings.
This was all happening too fast. He'd just arrived back and already peril was knocking at Hogwarts' door.
The cover was blown. Hogwarts was in danger and now all of them knew it.
"With blasts of cold will come dark art,
And a ruler
With a frozen heart!"
Then all will perish in snow and ice!
Unless you are freed with a sword sacrifice!"
The light in the monster's eyes faded just before all of it vanished into the air.
It took only seconds before someone yelled. "We're going to freeze!"
Then, "the ice will kill us!"
All eyes were turned on him as if they expected him to pull out some magic sword and vanquish the icy ruler.
Instead Harry stared at where the shattered prophecy lay.
"Student evacuate immediately!" McGonagall yelled over the panicked crowed.
In just a few minutes the peaceful breakfast had turned to chaos.
Some first years had already started crying, and the older student's weren't of any help—pushing, shoving, and chasing down Harry for answers.
A few Prefects were doing their job correctly, but the fear and confusion was poorly hidden.
Draco for one had turned a couple sheets whiter. If any more blood drained from his face he might have been transparent.
When the area cleared out only Harry, Ron, and McGonagall were left.
The culprits name had to be scattered somewhere in the remaining pieces.
He supposed the only real way to solve the mystery was to find out who the frozen ruler was and...well to do the whole sword sacrifice thing.
Killing Voldemort had technically been an accident. The wand had backfired. The young teen had never intentionally murdered anybody in his life. Saving others was one thing, but to take another's life in the process? It was just unthinkable. Undoable. Madness. Cruel.
Walking over to the shatter prophecy felt a lot like his first day at Hogwarts. Instead of 'in which house will you be?' it was 'what student will you kill?'
With each step his feet felt heavier.
Careful not to cut himself on the fragile glass, he searched.
The pieces were still hot. It reminded him of the warmth of a body. Someone's life had been predetermined for death just as his had been.
When his eyes finally landed on the single tag, Harry imagined the glass turning cold.
Cold like the soon to be lifeless body of destiny's new puppet.
Out loud he read, "The Ruler of Arendelle"
It was happening again.
Count four things you can see. Four you can touch. Four you can...
I can't be having a panic attack. I'm the Prefect. I have to help the first...
"Pansy!" he yelled her name, but the voice didn't feel like his.
Nothing felt real.
It was like he'd detached himself from the earth. Draco's chest hurt with every intake of breath. Each lung filled gulp felt like empty space consuming his body.
A falling sensation—plummeting without end—even though his feet were on the ground.
He could feel his heart beat in his throat, but regardless that he counted the thumps, time was unreal.
That wasn't even the worst part; the longer he stood there the colder his hands felt.
"What, Draco?" Pansy answered after the fifth call.
"Lead the snakes without me. I have to use the loo."
"No . Don't leave me with them, just hold-"
Draco had already started running.
He was aware how eyes turned his way the faster he ran. When he finally reached myrtles bathroom—panting and internally destroyed—no ghost girl was there to greet him.
"Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit!"
There weren't many things Draco was sure of. But one thing was certain; this was the worst panic attack he'd experienced yet.
Sure, after the war the young teen had had his share of terrible episodes, but this was anxiety disguised as death was knocking right on his door.
'You are dying,' it whispered. 'This feeling will never end. Isn't it best just to end the pain yourself?'
"No!" Draco yelled. "It will end! It always does..."
'Not this time. Hah! Even if you did try to escape me, this feeling would accompany you in death.'
"Shut up!"
'But you thought about it, didn't you? Escaping me by—"
Draco ran to the toilet. Somehow trying to make himself hurl gave him even just a millisecond of escape.
After the third try he sunk back, away from the toilet, and curled up into a ball.
How long had it been? Why wasn't it ceasing?
'The ice helps,' a voice whispered.
Maybe he finally cracked, but unlike his inner demons, this voice was clear. A soft, encouraging melody that went beyond the boundaries of a though. It was like the magic itself was speaking in his head.
"The ice?" Draco asked. At first he felt stupid, but then, ever so softly, the voice answered back.
'Your ice.'
Was he going mad? Again; maybe. But Draco didn't care. Anything to make the feeling stop was worth a try, even if hearing voices was not something he should just flow with.
The room was still bare. The minute Draco removed his glove frost spread throughout the walls like famine.
'No. Not like that. Don't be afraid. This is yours, you control it.'
"I-I don't know how!"
'Just concentrate and let it go.'
Let it go? Catchy. Still, it sounded easier said than done.
Focusing on anything at this point was like trying to pinpoint solid walls during an earthquake. Regardless, with his glove-less hand, Draco shakily aimed at the mirror.
Nothing happened.
'Relax. Think of something calming. Something beautiful even.'
Calming; no. Beautiful he was able to manage.
His favorite flowers—sun flowers—popped into his head.
An interior swirling patter of the silky, yet spiked center. The best way Draco could describe the core of the blossoming beauty was a forest.
It was simple looking from a distance, but up-close one could get lost in the variety of seeds.
The petals, unlike the center, where smooth, almost like a yellow velvet waterfall.
'Look.'
A frame was forming around the mirror; crystalized sunflower patterns in tangles of sculpted vines and leaves. It spread to the wall, framing around every mirror.
With every blast of cold Draco felt heavy relief. He was a mule whose luggage was being thrown off. Box by box, the anxiety left him.
This was the first time Draco felt glad to have his powers.
Lightweight. He felt lightweight. Walking on air and confident with every controlled blast. Controlled.
"I'm controlling it!"
The voice was gone, but Draco didn't ponder on it. Instead he let himself get taken away by the joy of solitude and his snow parade.
He covered the ceiling in sunflower chandeliers and turned the floor into a pathed skating ring, each leading to a stall where icy sunflowers blossomed from the porcelain thrones.
"Draco?"
Abruptly, he stopped, his heart skipping a beat.
"What the hell are you doing?"
"Myrtle!" He glared at her for startling him. "I. Could. Have. Died."
"Not funny. What on earth did you do to my bathroom!?"
"You have to admit, it looks nicer."
Myrtle eyed him strangely, floating down from the ceiling. "You seem happier than usual."
She was right. It was then he realized that the anxiety was gone. Draco smiled broadly. "I guess I never knew what I was capable of."
Myrtle looked around, taking in the detail of each frozen fractal. "It is wonderful, Dray...but you should probably get rid of it."
"Get rid of it? Why?"
Still looking around, Myrtle said "Even I heard what happened. If they find out you're the prophecy, they'll kill you."
Draco's face turned white. "The prophecy!" How could he forget?
"My name...it had to be on it!" Draco waved a hand to melt the ice, but nothing happened. His heart pounded and the flowers grew icy thorns, sharp and extending.
"Stop it!"
Draco tried again to no avail. "It's not me!"
'It's the fear.'
Draco's eyes widened at the return of the voice. He scrambled for his glove and put it back on. The thorns shrank back.
After a whole minute of silence, Draco spoke. "I'm sorry. I have to leave."
Myrtle floated in front of him, stopping him. "You're name wasn't on the prophecy."
"Wh-"
It said 'Ruler Of Arendelle'."
Relief flooded him like the first intake of air.
"I'm safe?" Draco mumbled to himself.
A cold rush tore at him as he ran through myrtle. No time to apologize. Finally, the young wizard had his first clue.
Arendelle.
Classes were still on even after the whole 'school is in peril' ordeal. Draco decided to show up (It would look out of place if he didn't). Luckily it was only history of magic.
Despite popular opinion, Draco actually liked this class. You could fall asleep without getting yelled at and all you needed was a last minute cram session for the exams.
He arrived late, but most of the class was passed out already or also missing. Chaos was the perfect opportunity to skip class, but Draco was risking nothing.
Luna sat in the back with one empty seat left at her table. Anyone else awake was shooting daggers at him. Grudgingly, he sat beside LoveGood.
Don't talk to me. Don't talk to me.
"Hello Draco."
Draco nodded in her direction and pretended to copy notes.
'Hears voices.'
'Has no friends.'
'Is scared of being scared.'
"Astoria went looking for you after all the commotion. She's really worried about you."
Draco stopped scribbling.
"Worried?"
"She said you haven't been the same after the war. I think so too."
Typical Luna. Blurting out everything about anything. For a Ravenclaw she was too dumb to understand the term privacy.
Then again, how could she tell he was different? It's not like he ever talked to the likes of her before.
"I mean you're actually talking to me for once," Luna said.
Oh.
That had to stop.
'Talks to Loony.'
Needless to say, Luna followed Draco out of the classroom after their lesson ended. The way she tagged along would make any clueless bystander think they were old pals.
"Beat it Loony, unless you want to see just how much I've changed."
Either she didn't hear him or wanted to take him up on that offer.
What was he supposed to do? Hit her? He was a Malfoy—a gentleman—not a barbaric brute.
Speaking of barbaric brutes.
"Luna!" Potter called.
He came running towards them. "We're having a meeting after lunch in McGonagall's office," Harry told her wilts glaring at Draco.
"Oh please, do retrieve your pet," is what Draco wanted to say.
It's what he would've said.
Words failed him.
Saying maturity had won over would be nice, but that wasn't true. Fighting with Harry just didn't have a point.
"Watch it, Malfoy."
"Or what?"
Then boom, a duel.
The things that used to be fun seemed pointless now.
What didn't seem pointless?
Snowflakes accompanied with cold blasts of air came to his mind. Playing with his new powers had been the first fun thing he'd done in a while.
Draco must've spaced out because Harry had stopped glaring and was looking at him funny.
Should I say something? What?
Draco made a mental note to write 'mute' and 'spaces out' on the paper aswell.
Thank heavens for Astoria Greengrass.
"Draco! Draco!"
He turned to find her smiling brightly behind him. Harry scattered, still looking off put, but Luna stayed.
Basically spitting rainbows and sparkles, Astoria said, "the mascaraed ball is coming up! You'll go with me, won't you?"
She was joking right? This was one of the biggest social events of them all. It was a party only meant for seventh years, but most everyone showed up anyway.
This is the type of stupid nonsense he was into before the war.
Now the thought of so many people sent his stomach on a backflip marathon. Chances of panic attack: 84%
But this was Astoria.
She just looked so happy and cute with those twinkling eyes. The way she so quickly rushed to him, already expecting a 'yes' warmed him inside.
"With you?" he wrinkled his nose.
Her smile began to fade before his grew into a smirk. "Of course I'll go with you."
"You're so mean! I hate you!"
Draco put his hand on her head and ruffled her hair. "Sure you do."
The library was cold. Maybe it was the curse, but Harry remembered it always being cold here. This was the one place he hadn't visited since his return.
To be honest he didn't really know what he was looking for. Maybe a book with a cover along the lines of 'How to Stop Magic Ice Curse Threatening to Destroy Your School Unless You Kill One of Its Inhabitants: Step By Step Guide for Dummies'.
But for now Harry just went with 'Ice'.
There was a vast section of ice related magic in the library—The Sorcery of Ice Sculpting, Frost Fairies, How to Train Your Snow Monster, and the list went on.
Harry settled for 'Heat Charms: Keep Your Home Warm During Any Winter'.
He searched high and low for anything on Arendelle, but came back emptyhanded.
The meeting with McGonagall hadn't gone smoothly.
Complaints from parents were flooding in along with more letters from the ministry. About three students had been pulled out of the school by some preoccupied guardian, leaving with the expected threat to sue the school.
This all just happened before 5pm today.
The Headmistress had given Harry permission to recruit as many members of the D.A as he thought were necessary.
Luna and Neville were the only ones he was willing to involve.
His hope had been on the findings in the library.
Harry sat at one of the study tables and gazed up at the celling. Maybe if he focused hard enough, the answers would fall from the sky.
Even in all this chaos the corridors bubbled with chatter of the dance.
Canceling it seemed logical, but that might just worsen the matter.
Sometimes a bit of normality was all it took to hold your life together.
A cough awakened him from his daydream.
He scooted the books from the bookshelf in front of him. Now with clear view of the study table on the other side, he spotted Draco Malfoy, absorbed in his studies.
Hermione had been right.
Draco had changed, and Harry wasn't sure it had been for the better.
Of course, it was nice not to engage into any (physical, verbal, or magical) violence this year, but there was definitely something off with the bully.
Harry had seen several cases of trauma after the war, all expressed differently, but Draco's went a bit beyond.
The depression was more than obvious—thin, with tired eyes and a resting bored look.
However, if you stared at him long enough, his eyes told a deeper story.
They were empty. Unfocused. Dead.
On the few occasion that they shimmered with any light was when the flame of fear lit them up.
What could have possibly caused this?
Malfoy looked up, then down, pretending he hadn't seen Harry.
Now that he thought about it, Malfoy must know a great deal on dark magic. If they were on speaking terms it would be easier to ask. As awkward as this would be, it needed to be done.
Surviving what was to come was more important than a simple childhood rivalry.
After all, Draco hadn't sold the out to Voldemort back in his manor, and Harry had saved his life that one time...
"Hey," Harry began.
There was no way for the Slytherin to fake deafness.
Still, all he did was raise an eyebrow with that hollow look of his.
"Er...What are you reading?"
Wordlessly, Draco lifted the book to reveal the cover.
Ogre Wars.
History of magic. Such a conversation starter.
"You going to the dance?"
Draco shrugged.
After half a minute of silence, the first words finally left Draco's lips. "What is it, Potter?"
Malfoy's voice was hoarse, but now Harry at least knew he still had one.
Did Harry trust Malfoy? No. However, the whole school freezing over thing wasn't much of a secret anymore, so it couldn't hurt to let Malfoy in on his mission.
Determinedly, Harry looked into his silver eyes and said the one thing he'd swore Draco Malfoy would never hear from his mouth: "I need your help."
A/N: Hope you guys liked it! Yeah? Nah? Let me know in the reviews! I wish you all a wonderful week!
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