Be Careful
18: Whose Name You Say
By Anne B. Walsh
Luna began to yawn around five, and shortly thereafter excused herself for the Ravenclaw dorms, leaving Draco feeling a bit bereft. He’d enjoyed listening to the different songs she’d chosen, learning to sing the ones that were meant for a man’s voice, and laughing with her at his miscues and fumbles. Mostly, though, he’d enjoyed being able to talk to her as though he were really here again.
It isn’t forever, he reminded himself, starting down the hall from the practice room. Only another two weeks in July, four in August, and then I’ll be back to school and I can get rid of the potion without drinking it myself. Maybe foist it off onto Crabbe and Goyle. They’d never notice they weren’t dreaming.
Or if I can manage that sleep-twisting trick—or even wear myself out by doing a lot of magic—and fall asleep without the potion…
But that held its own dangers, unless he could do it on the one specific day he knew would be safe.
Worry about it later. You’re still supposed to be exploring, remember?
Humming "This Is the Moment" under his breath, Draco ascended a set of random staircases and emerged onto a long, open balcony. The stars still shone brilliantly overhead, but the sky was lightening along the horizon, streaks of pink and gold starting to show.
A man stood at the other end of the balcony, cradling a bundle in his arms. "She’ll be here soon," Draco heard him murmur. "Wait and see. She’ll come right there, where we’re looking…"
Curious, Draco closed the gap between them. As he got closer, the bundle began to fuss.
"Hush now, hush," the man said soothingly, his voice half-familiar to Draco’s ears. He swayed back and forth on his feet, and the fretful noises died down. "Look, little one, do you see? There she is now."
Draco turned to follow the man’s line of sight, but saw only the brilliant colors of sunrise, heard only the birds beginning to call in the woods all around. It’s beautiful, but who is he talking about?
"Aurora." The man’s voice lingered on the word as though he thought it the loveliest ever spoken. "Goddess of the dawn. Your namesake—or are you hers? Never mind, it doesn’t matter. She’s here now, and so are you. Your very first sunrise."
Very first? That’s one little baby—
The voice suddenly matched itself to a face in Draco’s mind, and he turned around again in time to see Professor Riddle run a gentle finger across the rounded cheek of a black-haired baby girl, who turned her head and fastened her lips around the fingertip.
"I don’t think that’s what you really want," Professor Riddle said, chuckling under the words. "But if it will keep you happy until we get back to Mummy and Daddy, you can have it. We’d best not keep them waiting too much longer, they’ll be expecting us…"
Draco watched them go, leaning back against the stone railing. "I guess it’s a girl," he said aloud. "Aurora… Riddle? No, it’s his daughter’s kid. So Aurora whatever-her-name-is. She’s cute."
A rooster crowed in the distance. Draco found himself hoping the basilisk hadn’t been within earshot.
Wonder how much longer I have? That looked like about an eight-hour dose of Dreamless Sleep, and I’d guess I got back here around two… if time’s the same on both sides, that would mean I’m here until ten. But everyone had a late night, so they’re not likely to be up until then. Which means I get to spend five hours by myself, and have to leave just as everyone’s waking up…
Go on, feel sorry for yourself, jeered a mental voice he recognized, with a shock, as his own. Play the martyr to the hilt—no one’s likely to do it for you. What does it matter if people are awake or not? They can’t see you anyway. And think about what you can do with this form! You can go through any door, open or closed—see everything, every part of the school you’ve ever wondered about—
"I’d rather be here for real," Draco muttered. "It’s not fair."
Life isn’t fair. I’m amazed you haven’t worked that out by now. The voice turned conspiratorial. Besides, there’s one thing you haven’t tried yet.
"What’s that?"
Magic.
"What, being out of my body and in another world isn’t magic enough?"
Don’t be stupid. Your own magic. The sort you do with your wand.
"My wand?" Draco rummaged in his robe pocket and discovered that he did, indeed, have his wand, though it looked as insubstantial as all the rest of him. "But it’s not really here…"
It’s as much here as you are. And magic lives in the soul, not the body. Why don’t you go experiment and see if anything works?
"Sounds like a good plan." He started towards the balcony stairs, then stopped. "Why am I talking to myself?"
Because you’re the only one who can hear you right now?
"Whatever." Draco propped his elbows on the balcony rail, watching the sun’s light bleach the sky from navy to cerulean to pale dusty blue. There would be time to see if magic worked in this form, time to explore through closed doors, time even to watch people wake up and prepare for the new day. This was the only time there would be a sunrise quite like this.
Great. Not only am I disembodied, I’m a poet.
And I didn’t know it.
He snorted a laugh and kept watching.
"Morning, Myrtle," said the stocky, red-haired man standing in the doorway of the Hogwarts nursery. "You wouldn’t happen to have a dragon in there, would you?"
"Whyever would we keep a dragon in here?" Myrtle Thompson, licensed nurse and mediwitch, looked properly shocked. "That would be very dangerous…"
"Roooooaaaaaarrrrrrr!" shouted a voice from behind her.
"Though I suppose we might have one somewhere," Myrtle finished with a giggle as a brown-haired five-year-old darted out of one of the open doors behind her.
"There’s my dragon!" Charlie Weasley went down on one knee and scooped up Charlie Beauvoi. "How’d you sleep, Dragon?"
"Dragons don’t sleep!" the boy proclaimed. "I flew ’round my room and breathed fire all night!"
"I hope you didn’t burn anything up. That wouldn’t be nice to Myrtle, making her clean up your mess."
Little Charlie shook his head. "I didn’t burn anything. It was magic fire, so it doesn’t have to burn stuff. Where’s Dora?"
"She’s downstairs at breakfast with your mum and dad. I said I’d come up and get you and Nicki. You hungry?"
"Dragons are always hungry." Little Charlie clambered up big Charlie and sat on his shoulders. "I want porridge."
"I’m sure we can handle that." Charlie nodded thanks to Myrtle as she led little Nicole Beauvoi out of another door. "But it has to be blood porridge, if you’re a dragon. Little bits of hearts and livers and lungs, all in a nice blood sludge."
"That sounds good." A pair of sharp elbows rested themselves in Charlie’s hair. He reached up and swatted them away before carefully kneeling again to pick up Nicki, who wrapped her arms around his neck with assurance.
"So good of you to come and get them," Myrtle said, smiling fondly.
"Just reminds me why I want to hold off another few years having any of my own, that’s all." Charlie started for the door. "Duck, Dragon."
"Dragons don’t duck."
"Then dragons are going to get their heads hurt."
"Okay. I guess I can duck."
Myrtle watched them go until a sudden wail from another room sent her hurrying to see which of her charges needed attention now.
Danger set down her teacup and smiled, getting to her feet to take her daughter from Charlie Weasley’s arms. "Thank you for getting them."
"You’re welcome. One little Nicki, and one little Dragon, as ordered."
"Rooooooaaaaaarrrrr!" Charlie shouted again, sliding down his older namesake’s back to the floor.
Danger put her free hand to her forehead. "Please, don’t encourage him. He’s been insisting he’s a dragon for the last three weeks."
"Why not call him that for a while, if he likes it so much?" Dora Weasley put in from across the table, where she was entertaining Michael and Robbie Potter and Johnny Black by making faces at them, in her own inimitable fashion. Johnny pointed at his father, and Dora shifted her features into those of Sirius, still speaking in her own voice as she did. "It’d save us all some time, saying ‘big Charlie’ and ‘little Charlie’ and getting them mixed up."
"You get them mixed up?" Remus said.
"Not when I’m looking at them." Dora let her features slide back into their normal configuration. "But I’ve confused people before when I’m trying to explain it to them—they assume that if I’m married to big Charlie, then little Charlie must be ours."
"That sounds like a good idea." Big Charlie knuckle-rubbed little Charlie’s scalp. "You two have plenty of kids, you’d never miss one. How about Dora and I take him home with us when this is all over?"
"Ooh, can I?" Little Charlie bounced in place. "Can I, can I, please?"
"No," said Danger, Remus, and Dora in chorus.
"Awwww," said both Charlies together, pouting.
"Stop that." Dora flicked a raisin at them. "For one thing, I’m not ready for children yet. For another, no offense, Remus, but when I do have some, I want them to look like my husband, not like you."
Remus chuckled. "If they’re your children, I’d assume they could look like anything they pleased."
"Not necessarily—Metamorph’s a tricky thing, it doesn’t always show up where you think it will…"
With the sun well up in the sky, Draco turned to experimenting with magic. The spells he tried worked, but very weakly, to the point where he had to concentrate until he had a headache just to keep a quill levitated for ninety seconds.
If it were life or death, I might be able to do something. Otherwise, I don’t think I’ll bother.
He’d been hearing sounds of returning life in the castle for some time, and now followed a small troop of chattering Ravenclaws down from their dorm to the Great Hall, where the House tables were occupied all along their lengths by adults and children alike. Harry had his head together with Fred and George Weasley, and Draco made a mental note to stay out of their way. He might be intangible, but he wasn’t invulnerable.
Breakfast smells good. Wish I could have some. He checked his watch and blinked—it was already half past ten, and he hadn’t been pulled back to his body yet.
Must have been a ten-hour dose after all. Or maybe time does run differently here.
I may not be able to starve like this, but I can get awfully hungry…
Trying to distract himself, Draco looked towards the doors of the Great Hall just in time to see a pack of Gryffindors coming in, and in the midst of them—
Abby!
He hurried towards her, dodging her Housemates—it didn’t make any real difference whether he went around them or through them, but the latter felt strange. Abby yawned, covering her mouth with a hand, her eyes wandering idly around the Hall—
They fell on him and widened.
Quickly, Draco pressed a finger to his lips.
Abby nodded and ducked out of the stream of bodies, moving to a quiet corner beside the doors. Draco followed.
"What happened to you?" Abby demanded when Draco got within earshot. "Why do you have a bruise right there?" She pointed.
"Do I?" Draco put his fingers to his face and winced. "Forgot about that. It’s been a long night. Look, Abby, I’m all right, I’m just here a little differently than I used to be…"
Abby folded her arms and waited.
She looks like her sister when she does that. Draco found himself giving Abby the abbreviated version of what had happened to him in his own world. "So I’ll be here like this until school starts again," he wrapped up. "Except maybe for Ray and Neenie’s coming of age. What’s that like, anyway?"
"It’s very important." Abby seated herself at the end of the Gryffindor table, Draco sliding in beside her and hiding a smile at the thought of his Housemates’ faces if they could see him now. "It’s when Father will introduce them to the Manor’s magic, and it to them. Ray will probably use it more, since he’s older, but he and Neenie do everything together so she’ll be there too. They might even be able to help the Manor learn how to make wards the dementors can’t get through. But I don’t know. Father knows an awful lot of magic, and he couldn’t do it."
Draco nodded, but his mind was on something else. "How will he introduce them to the Manor’s magic? Let them shake hands with it?"
Abby giggled. "No, silly. There’s a special room down in the cellar, where the Manor-core lives. Father took us all down there when we were babies, so the Manor would know us and protect us. But now it’s going to learn Ray specially, because he’ll be the Lord there someday. And Neenie just to be fair."
Just to be fair? Draco glanced up the table at the Beauvois, Moony spooning porridge into little Nicki and Danger laughing with a young witch with lime green hair who bore a definite resemblance to Aunt Andy. Or because it’s entirely possible she might someday be the Lady of the Manor, if the dementors keep breaking wards down like this?
He didn’t like the thought, but it seemed all too plausible.
Suddenly I’m not so sure I want to come here to stay.