A/N: I'M BACK!
This chapter was originally 6k words, but I split it in 2. Chapter 6 is already complete. I just need to edit it, so I should be posting it sometime this week.
Enjoy!
-lauralydney
Chilled Legacy V
"Come again?"
"You heard me," Potter said. "Can we talk?"
"I..."
Regardless of what Draco planned to say, Harry walked over to him and sat down.
Ah yes. How may I assist you, oh great chosen one?
Even with the lack of hostility between them, Harry was clearly both disgusted and uncomfortable in Draco's presence.
The young wizard recalled an old novel he once read. "Talk!" by Lisa Evermont. Not a very well-known British witch, but the book was decent.
He couldn't help but compare himself to the main character, Lucas. Always at loss for words these days. A million and one thoughts per second, but not a croaking noise to compensate.
It had been very boring road trips that lead Draco to read such a depressing tale. That much he could pinpoint. When the tale had turned to his life was still lost in the sea of questions.
"You know a lot about the dark arts, yes?"
The familiar boasting sensation rose to his throat, but was quickly shut down when the verse rang in his head:
From blast of cold will come dark art, and a ruler with a frozen heart.
How stupid did Potter think he was? Of course! That's why he was here at Hogwarts. Wonder boy couldn't help but come to the rescue again. Draco bit the inside of his cheek, drawing blood. He had to get himself out of the suspect list.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Draco meant to say harshly, but it came out empty, like a ghost trying to look alive.
Harry raised an eyebrow. "Nothing. Just that...well, you probably know more about curses than I do. Can you tell me anything about this one?"
Uh, yeah.
"No."
Harry mistook his defensive manor for rudeness. He was standing up to leave when Draco asked, "What makes you think it's a curse?"
"What? You think it isn't?"
"Of course it is. It has all the aspects of dark magic. Spontaneous and unpredictable."
Play along. If you try to help you'd be the last on his kill list.
"Have you ever seen anything like it?"
"Not personally. I hear the native Sami dealt with these types of curses often."
Harry's eyes widened. Draco realized he actually did know more than he should. No one had to tell him it was a curse.
Answering the basic questions was necessary. When the more complex ones came he'd lead Harry down empty rabbit trails.
"Would you happen to have any idea on how to stop it? Find out who's doing this?"
Bingo.
Draco leaned back and bit his lip, pretending to think about it.
The library was empty. Each little move he made echoed throughout the halls. Could Harry hear his pulsating heart? The fresh wind of depravity? The need use his powers gnawing at his insides?
Pain must be a side effect. The snow did him more harm than good.
"I'd go with examining the areas the snow is most present in. You might find your answer there. As for whose doing it? Check the student records for new arrivals. People who've never been to this school before should be your first suspect."
Harry was practically glowing. The young blond's lips twitched into a smirk.
The Gryffindor asked a few more questions before looking satisfied. He asked if Draco was willing to talk to him again later and Draco agreed.
Potter stood to leave. Maybe it was Draco's imagination, but the corners of the room were growing dark.
Grabbing some books, he stood to leave. A quick movement. Far too quick. The room darkened even more, like the fading scene of a movie. Draco felt light-headed and nauseous. A high ringing sound overtook all other sounds in the room.
Two steps and he was down.
Draco Malfoy is helping me.
Nope. Not happening. That guy definitely wanted something out of this.
Harry had been right about one thing; Draco was definitely an expert on dark magic. In less than a few minutes he had taken him through basic and advanced curses comparing the outcomes to the one currently plaguing them. Everything from ancient hereditary powers to new, un-accidental developments from either foul play or self-experimentation.
Who knew the native Sami from Norway had up to 24 different types of snow curses?
Absorbed in all this new vital information, Harry failed to notice the foggy look in Draco's eyes. The occasional stomach growl and biting of lips.
The next thing he knew there was loud thumps of books clattering on the floor and an unconscious Draco Malfoy.
Harry didn't really know what to do. Calling a teacher seemed logical, but instincts kicked it in instead and he rushed to Draco.
The boy was white as death and stone cold.
Harry put his fingers under Draco's nose. Yes, he was breathing.
Draco had fainted...
Why had he fainted?
Harry called for help and Madam Pince—the librarian—appeared shortly.
"Oh dear!" She froze for a second. Her resting, mean composure cracked. Then she rushed over to Draco.
Before she could ask, Harry answered, "I don't know. I was just standing there and..."
The librarian was old and frail. Her face said one thing, but those old bones said another.
There was no one around to help Harry carry Draco to the infirmary.
Clueless and impulsively, Harry did the water spell, aiming at Draco's face.
His eyelids snapped open, revealing a disoriented and groggy pair of silver eyes.
The blond groaned.
"Malfoy? Can you get up?"
Draco groaned again and attempted to push his body up. In all honesty it didn't appear Malfoy himself knew what happened and was probably on the brink if passing out again. He was like a half asleep zombie, mindlessly following instruction.
Harry helped him up, putting an arm around him. Slowly, they started walking.
When they reached the hallway Harry found it to be mostly empty.
Hermione Granger was walking head down, absorbed in a book. How the hell she knew where she was going, Harry would never know.
"Mione! Lend me a hand here."
She looked up, all the emotions fast-forwarding on her face in seconds. Confusion. Shock. Realization.
By the time they finally reached the infirmary they were basically dragging a corpse.
Madam Pomfrey laid him on a bed. The split second after Harry told him what happened, they were being shooed out.
Not that Harry cared or would've stayed. It may sound cruel, but he got what he needed out of Draco for now. What he'd done was what any other bystander would do.
Once a bully, always a bully.
While Draco had proven to not be wholly evil, they weren't any closer to being friends now than they had been in first year.
Still, Harry had to stay on his good side. The information Draco was providing was the closest Harry was getting to solving the mystery.
"What happened to him exactly?" Hermione asked him on the way back to the library.
One way Harry was getting on his good side was by retrieving the books Draco dropped.
"Like I told the healer, he just fainted. I didn't see it, just saw him lying there." Harry paused. "You're not worrying about him, are you?"
"I'm just a bit curious, is all. Don't get you panties in a bunch."
That was their last of their conversations about Draco Malfoy that day.
***
Was he depressed was their first question. To Draco it seemed far too direct. He didn't care how nice councilor Abney seemed, it was all just an act.
Draco thought about her question. Was he depressed?
No. No. No. It was bad to think. Thinking confused him.
Instead, he didn't answer.
Reassuring himself that everything would be okay, Draco let his thoughts drift to the long-melted sunflower decorations in Myrtle's bathroom.
It's not like these teachers could keep him from his research much longer. Had it been Potter who'd fainted from not eating due to anxiety and then woken up to a panic attack induced by nightmares from freezing his parents...maybe then they would concern themselves.
Lucky for him, he was Draco Malfoy. The most hated student in all of Hogwarts. Just shake your head no to all the stupid questions and the teachers will soon enough forget about the dumb fiasco.
The adults talked some more. The word parents flitted into the conversation like the whistling sound of a bullet just before you got shot.
"I'm fine." Draco protested groggily. "Just let me leave. I have to study."
"None of that, Mr. Malfoy. We must first understand what exactly happened," Slughorn said.
"I told you already. I was a bit distracted with all the late homework, so I happened to forget a few meals. Easy mistake, honestly. It won't happen again."
Slughorn looked at the clock, then at Draco. A couple more questions should get him through the whole we care about all our students policy.
"Care to explain your little episode you had with Madam Pomfrey?"
The councilor looked worn out herself. Regardless, she looked at the teen with encouraging eyes. Sickening.
They couldn't prove he had a panic attack. "What episode?"
The Abney rested her hand on his arm. "It's okay, love. Lots of people get panic attacks. It's better to have a big support group to get you through it."
If he had any food in his stomach, Draco would've hurled.
"I didn't have a panic attack," Draco told them. "Can I go now?"
It only lasted for about half a minute anyway. First thing Draco did was run to the dreamless sleep potion and gone back to sleep.
It was a risky move, but the thought of his emotions overtaking him and frost covering the walls in front of everybody was worse than the current consequences.
Malfoy's don't need councilors or pity.
They eventually got bored, fed him, and let him leave.
Apparently Potter had brought his books to him. Draco did a quick fingerprint spell to see any recent markings on the interior pages.
Harry hadn't bothered to open them.
What a fool.
All of Potter's proof had sat a page turn away. As if Draco would be caught dead studying history of magic any time before the exam.
The sneaky Slytherin had switched the covers on all the books that gave any slight hint of his powers' origin.
Right now only one had a lead; Rock Trolls and Norwegian Magic.
It didn't mention anything about Arendelle, but Draco had immediately recognized the beast who'd prophesied his bleak future. If he could find them, maybe they could lead him to the cure.
He had not had much time to read it between Potter's interrogation, him fainting, and now interrogation number 2.
Now would be the time to do so, but Draco had forgotten how gossip spread worse than wildfire at Hogwarts.
Seamus and Dean waited for him just before the next turn of the hall, leading to the room of requirements.
"I heard you're throwing a pity party, eh Malfoy?" Seamus called.
Draco turned to go back the other way, but they hadn't finished their fun.
Seamus ran up to him and grabbed him by the arm. "Too bad we weren't invited to watch."
With the strength Draco had now, it was all too easy for Finnigan when he threw him on the ground.
"What's your problem?" Draco tried to sound brave, but fear won over.
No, he wasn't afraid of them, but afraid for them. They didn't know they were playing with a ticking time bomb of ice.
"Could ask you the same thing. We heard Potter was forced to carry your sorry arse down to the infirmary. Think we're your servant, you filthy prick?"
Exposing his powers was bad, but freezing them was also tempting. Draco's eyes glowered and his lips twitched up into a malevolent smile, like a wolf momentarily hurt by its prey. Angered yet merrily cunning revenge.
"You couldn't pay me to hire such useless monkeys."
Seamus' foot connected with Draco's abdomen. He rolled over, but refused to cry out in pain.
Next thing he knew, he was lifted up by the shirt collar and pinned against a wall.
"Watch who you talk to," Seamus hissed. His face was close enough for Draco to count every freckle.
His hands felt cold. Concentrate. You control it.
The wall behind him frosted around his fingertips, but neither Dean nor Seamus noticed.
"You don't deserve pity or help. Be our guest on starving yourself to death. Everyone knows it should be you who's in the ground and not our friends."
Pain exploded in his nose. Blood pooled down his face from Seamus' punch.
"Hey!"
"Neville! Come to join the party?"
"Let go of him!" Neville said, coming closer. He sure had gotten braver since the war.
Draco's head turned. Neville was in the lead with Potter, Weasley, and Granger coming up behind him.
"Let him go, Seamus," Potter said calmly. "Don't stoop to his level."
Draco was released, to Dean and Seamus' dismay. They got lucky. The young wizard was seconds away from turning them to icicles. What a shame.
Sticking their tongue out at the chosen one, they left.
What the hell was Potter up to? Who the hell did he think he was? A child?
Draco covered his nose. "I don't need your help," he said, and walked off.
***
The stars shone like millions of shards from a shattered diamond, the moon being the biggest piece.
They reminded Harry of the broken prophecy.
He and the elect members of the D.A had spent all day using different heat charms on the school. Harry knew it wouldn't do much to protect them, but it was all they had. Whatever was coming was beyond his comprehension of the dark arts, but not Draco's.
Harry should've let Dean and Seamus pound him senseless for all the thanks he got. Now Draco was ditching their plans.
Staring at the stars was nice and all, but when you've been staring at them for more than an hour, and they're just imitations from the enchanted ceiling in the Great Hall, you and your friends would also start becoming impatient.
"He's not coming. Let's just go," Ron said, absentmindedly mixing the cold mashed potatoes with a chicken bone.
"Just wait a little longer," Hermione told him.
Ron rested his head on the table. "You said that ages ago."
They waited another couple more minutes in silence before Hermione broke it. "I didn't want to say anything." She looked at Harry before continuing. "But I think Malfoy might be in trouble."
Harry raised an eyebrow. She hesitated then explained. "I overheard the Professor McGonagall and Slughorn talking in the potions lab. Apparently Draco had a panic attack after he woke up, and Madam Pomfrey had found a note in his pocket that hinted at him having had many others."
She paused. Ron looked just as bored as before. Luna might've been listening, but none of them were ever certain. Harry and Neville exchanged a look of confusion. Should they feel sorry for Draco? Laugh? Not care?
All Harry felt right now was intrigue.
Hermione glared at Ron, but when that didn't get his attention, she kept talking. "McGonagall said they would force him to see a counselor. He's also hearing voices and they fear he's fallen into some severe depression."
Ron snorted and they all looked at him. "What? Whatever that jerks is getting, he deserves it."
"Ronald!"
"It's true. If that's all you had to say, I'll be off. You guys can feel sorry for him if you want, but I'm not that dense."
With that, the table was left in silence once again, now with one less member.
One by one, they each stood up until only Harry was the only one left.
These weren't just vacant chairs; this was what having no one care about you physically looked like.
Eventually Harry left his seat too.
***
Draco awoke suddenly around midnight.
Having spent all afternoon studying what he could on his powers, Draco finally had his answer; rock trolls.
These woodland creatures possess many capabilities for curing numerous types of magical maladies. Rock trolls—while they may not look it—are most specialized in repelling and destroying both genetic, and newfound curses.
It is also important to note that rock trolls have a vast knowledge when dealing with ancient (at times almost unheard of) curses.
Such was the case of Arendelle—
Draco nearly hit the roof when he saw it. Arendelle. Five books later and there was finally a mention of the long forgotten name.
He took a deep breath and slowly exhaled before continuing.
—of Arendelle 1839
No more mention of the name.
The word was written in blood-red ink, the same color as the small print footnote at the bottom of the page.
See back for map.
His fingers scrambled until he came across the map. That's all there was. A bloody map of Norway with a red dot in the center. No explanation. No a sentence. Not a word.
Draco had gone back to the library to get a more accurate map of the area and came back with an overly descriptive map of the country, only to find a single nameless dot on this map as well.
When comparing it to muggle maps, the area was invisible.
A sole, nameless wizard population that didn't much care for visitors.
In hopes, Draco had looked at more books, but the name was never mentioned again. What did that writer expect? He pack up his bags, ditch school, and go travel 1,900km from England to Norway in hopes that a dot on a map had all his answers?
His eyes had fallen shut around 7pm with dreams of talking rocks and angry teachers.
Still deathly tired, Draco rolled over and groaned. Even in this sleepy state, he knew what he had to do. He had to go to Arendelle and find the rock trolls.
The ball was next Friday, a week away. They had moved the date after the commotion. He doubted anyone would notice his absence then if he made a small appearance, talked to Astoria and then were to suddenly slip away...
Draco grabbed the cup to the bedside table, late night thoughts and adrenaline fogging all else. The water froze solid and the cup shattered from expansion. His finger stung from papercut-sized wound and a single drop of blood dripped on the bedside table. All doubt left Draco's mind.
"Arendelle here I come."
A/N: Review = faster updates. Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter!