Evoking the Spirit

The invisibility cloak was no longer big enough for all of them to fit underneath it, so Harry stayed in the open reading the Marauders Map. They were early; it was only 11:45.

“Okay, be quiet, he’s on his way.”

Ron’s groan of, “Bloody fantastic,” was followed by the sound of a smack on the head coming from underneath the cloak.

Malfoy emerged from around the corner at the end of the hall a few moments later in black silk pajama pants, slung low on his alabaster hips and a simple white cotton t-shirt. Harry thought Malfoy looked extremely out of place in the dark corridor with his wand outstretched and lit up. The shirt was probably Egyptian cotton, Harry laughed to himself. He thought he belonged in some expensive mail order catalogue, or maybe a male order catalogue. Harry wasn’t sure which image he preferred.

“Potter, your royal highness, prince of Gryffindor and savior of the wizarding world I presume.” Malfoy’s patented sneer didn’t move an inch as he bowed theatrically.

“Malfoy, the Slytherin prince of Darkness and annoying thorn in my side, finally, you’re here.” Harry bowed in turn.

“I am, although I’d hardly consider myself annoying.”

“No?”

“No, Potter. You know I don’t believe in the wasting of time, are you wasting mine or was there something you wanted to see me about?”

“Yes and neither do I. So…thanks.”

“You’re welcome, but for what?”

“I know you think this is rubbish, but you showed up anyway so, thank you for coming.”

“I bet you say that to all the boys.” Malfoy laughed, his lips revealing his teeth and a bit of soft, pink tongue. Harry was near panting, which was extremely unusual, especially around Malfoy. ‘What is going on?!?’ He couldn’t seem to sort out his rather odd physical reactions. “Where’s the royal court?” Malfoy continued.

“Oh I’m sure they’re around.”

“Here? Hidden under your silly cloak?”

“Maybe, but I had wanted a bit of privacy.”

“Quit the theatrics Potter, I’m tired of being proper, what am I doing here and why do we need privacy?”

“Because I have a favor to ask you and you owe me one.”

“I do?”

“You could be in Azkaban; you’re not because of me.”

“I hate you, I’m listening.” Harry checked the map and saw Filch headed their way.

“Likewise, we should go inside.” Harry paced in front of the wall for a few seconds before a door appeared. He and Malfoy entered but Harry wasn’t sure Hermione and Ron made it because Draco quickly shut the door. ‘At least they have extendable ears, maybe they can listen in.’

“Well?” Draco eyed Harry.

“Well what?”

“Well why am I here?” Harry turned from the door and to his surprise the room was filled with plush burgundy colored pillows and small loveseat style couches and a small dark wood table that held coffee and what appeared to be finger sandwiches and a chilled bottle of wine. “And what on earth did you ask the room for Potter?”

“A place where we could talk, alone,” said Harry, as confused as Malfoy. “Right, okay,” he walked to the table and poured himself and Draco a glass of wine. He did not think the room would take such liberties but thankfully there was something to drink, he poured half of the little bottle into his cup and the rest into Draco’s before slipping it back into his pocket and turning to hand Draco his glass, “have you ever heard of evoking the spirit?” Draco took a long sip and Harry followed suit.

“Yes, in passing.”

“Do you know what it does?”

“Calls the ancient magic to the evoked I suppose.”

“Right, it makes the person much stronger and more powerful.”

“Yes, and more dead.”

“No not always.”

“Right, sometimes more insane.”

“So you have heard of it.”

“I know the consequences Potter, not the technicalities of it.”

“Then you know that those consequences are only when done improperly.”

“Improperly?”

“Yes the chant, it calls for four people, one for each corner of the compass. The ancient magic, derived from the earth, is supposed to be split up between the four people chanting. The chanters on the north and south ends get the bulk of it while the slightly less important west and east corner chanters get the remaining bit. This is nothing to be scoffed at Malfoy.”

“Alright.”

“The reason those people died was because they attempted it without the proper number of people, trying to get a more concentrated dose of old magic and they did it for the wrong reasons, I have a theory. I think the magic knows why you want to borrow it and acts accordingly. People who do it correctly and for the right reasons get to use it and those who wish to abuse end up in Saint Mungo’s.”

“I see. You sound like Granger.”

“Thank you.”

“It wasn’t a compliment.”

“I know.”

“So what exactly do you want from me?”

“We need a fourth.” Draco stared at Harry uncomprehending. Then after a minute or so, just as Harry was about to speak up, understanding lit Draco’s storm grey eyes.

“Me? You want me? Why?”

“You’re perfect.”

“I’m not,” A hint of misunderstanding in Draco’s frown, he had apparently not meant to say that, he continued anyway, “but do you know how unstable and unreliable chants are? Do you have any idea how intimate the bonding experience is when magic is interwoven like that?”

“Yes I have an idea and of course you’re perfect.” Harry did not want to repeat that Draco was perfect but he couldn’t seem to help himself. I guess he was perfect for the chant but it seemed odd to tell him so. “I also know how unreliable chants are, but they’ve always worked when I needed them too and we both have very strong innate magic. This could work for us.”

“And I assume Granger and the Weasel are calling with us?”

“Yes Ron and Hermione will call the west and east corners.”

“Wait just a second, what corner would I be calling?”

“South, if you agree.”

“Why on earth would you want to split that much power with me? I thought you’d call opposite Weasley for sure!”

“Because I like you and you’re on my side and you fit the criteria and we’re already quite close.”

“Excuse me? Did you say you like me?”

“Yes, but not traditionally. Our feud Malfoy has bonded us, I trust you. It’s like we’re old pals instead of rivals, the bickering and name calling. I know more about you then your friends do and I’d put my vault in Gringotts on it that it’s the same for you.” Draco dropped his head, covering a slight blush, Harry noticed, on his cheeks.

“Well I would expect to know a lot from watching you for the last six years.” The words seemed strangled.

“That’s what I’m saying, we’ve been sworn enemies for so long, we watch each others every move, we know each others patterns and moods and likes and dislikes and-It seems strange when I don’t see you. Or when I don’t have to jump in to stop you and Ron from getting in rows.”

“You know I only pick on him because I’m used to it and I know it gets under your skin,” He paused, “that and I don’t like him.”

“You’re the only one who gets to me anymore.”

“I know. What I don’t know” he paused and narrowed is eyes at the Gryffindor, “is what you put in my drink Potter?”

“Veritaserum,” he answered smoothly. He knew that lying would be impossible, “you actually helped make this batch.”

“Why would I do that? Why would you do that?”

“It was yours and Hermione’s and to make sure you didn’t lie to me, this is very important, I took some too. To make it fair.”

“So you don’t trust me.”

“I shouldn’t but as I already said, I do trust you. Hermione is just very careful, and Ron doesn’t trust you as far as he can throw you, but he trusts Hermione and I, and since it was our idea-”

“He went along with it.”

“Right.”

“So you have to tell me the truth?”

“Y-yes,” For a moment Harry’s confidence faltered before he continued, Draco saw it. “But you drank it too.”

“I know.” There was a mischievous glint in Draco’s eyes that made Harry nervous. “Are you scared Potter of the war? Of me?”

“The war, always.”

“Of me?”

“Sometimes.”

“Right now?” Draco took a few steps towards Harry and stopped less then a foot away.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Your eyes.”

“My eyes’ scare you Potter?” He frowned and quirked an eyebrow in question.

“The look in your eyes, it-it makes me nervous sometimes. It’s like you have this cool and collected intent to hurt someone or- or something else, do something-bad.”

“Sometimes I do. Never hurt you, I’d miss getting under your skin too much, and if I kill you, who would save the world?” Draco smiled and stepped back, “I’ll do it.” Then he breezed through the door, leaving it open behind him. “See you tomorrow!” He shouted to no one as he strolled down the corridor.