The Dragons of Raveana

Music in the Night

The haunting melody drew Draco slowly down one of the dark halls of the Manor. Each note was full and perfectly rounded, the slow lament beckoning him onward. Two weeks ago his father had left to visit one of the families older estates, returning several days later with a large trunk. Since that night, the same seductive dirge could be heard whispering quietly around Malfoy Manor. His mother had claimed it was his father but she had been lying and he knew it. Lucius Malfoy played the flute clinically, with no feeling or thought to the music. The individual who played at night was a maestro. Every song was played to its fullest, each note ringing perfectly. Tonight was his last night to find the mystery player. Tomorrow he would be on his way to Hogwarts for his sixth year.

Pausing outside a closed door, he pressed his ear to the wood and shut his eyes. His body tensed as the music trailed off, silence settling on the hall only to be broken moments later by a sorrowful tune. His hands tightened on the flute he held, fingers floating over the keys as he kept time with the mystery musician. Sighing, he glanced down the hall before placing his hand on the knob. The door popped open with a faint click, swinging inwards slowly.

Peeking his head around the door, he searched the room but found it devoid of human life. Frowning, he stepped backwards and began to pull the door closed when a note pierced the shadowed room. Glancing back and forth down the halls, he slipped into the room and closed the door lightly. Blue eyes darted around the small room, taking in the Ever-Lasting candles glowing on a high table and the empty portrait hanging in the center of the left wall. The soft whisper of the flute called him onward, forcing his leaden feet to move towards the white sheet draped over the second wall. His fingers clenched on the cloth. Taking a deep breath, he tugged lightly. The fabric slid slowly down the wall, pooling at his feet.

A large portrait hung on the wall, it's gilded frame covered in centuries worth of dust. In the background, a dark sea tossed and churned. Waves rolling forward wearing white caps under a charcoal sky. In the center, a lone figure stood. The wind grabbed and tore at the black cloak she wore, leaving her mass of dark hair in tangles. In her hands she held a flute, the instrument singing sweetly as she played. He realized he'd been holding his breath and dragged air into his burning lungs, panting as the witch played on.

"Who are you?" Draco whispered, one hand smoothing the air above the picture. The raven haired witch continued to play the sorrowful melody, tears running down her cheeks. As if hearing him, she stopped playing, the last note reverberating around the room. Her eyes slid open slowly, ethereal emeralds glimmering as she stared at him. He shuddered when she frowned and tipped her head, flute slowly moving away from her mouth.

Frowning, the witch resumed her posture and played several notes, keen eyes watching him. Draco considered her before raising his own flute, carefully answering the challenge. His blond hair glowed golden in the candlelight as he played each note carefully. Offering him a sweet smile, she raised a hand and directed his attention to the object resting on the table.

Blinking, he swirled around and approached the table cautiously. Glancing over his shoulder, Draco pondered the familiar looking witch. Shaking his head at his confusion over her resemblance to Potter, he turned his attention to the object resting on the shadowed table. His hands slid over the long box. The wood was a bright cherry red traced through with dark lines. Engraved in the top was a dragon, it's twinkling eye crafted of sapphire. He glanced over his shoulder at the dark haired witch, feeling her eyes burning into his back.

Chewing his lip in thought, he flipped the clasps and opened the long box. Resting on a bed of burgundy was a silver flute. Draco set his own flute down on the table and reached inside the case, his fingers gliding lovingly over the cool metal. The silver was traced with small images, dragons rearing and roaring in battle. A tingle ran through the pale digits as they stroked the keys, hand jerking out of the box in response.