‘Good luck, Draco,’ Bleist smiled broadly. ‘You’ll manage just fine. Especially with your new class.’ The optimism and conviction radiating from him made the dragon inclined to believe it.
‘I’ll try.’ That was all he managed to say before stepping out onto the driveway.
‘See you this afternoon.’ Darius waved at him one last time, and the carriage doors closed.
Draco stood there for a moment, watching the carriage from Ed’heer drive away. He caught himself unable to look away and, feeling slightly embarrassed, glanced around. To his surprise, he realised there was no one else around. Solvein was completely deserted.
‘It starts in over an hour,’ he reminded himself, letting out a heavy sigh.
The dragon turned towards the entrance to the Academy and plucked up the courage to face his past traumas. He walked inside with his head held high and immediately turned left, towards the corridor leading to the Tower of Fire. As he was due to report to Instructor Hartmann, he knew he would find him on the sixth floor of the Tower of War. Unlike the first time he’d been here, all the corridors were open and nothing hindered his progress. However, the echo of his footsteps carried through the deserted passageways seemed strangely unnatural, alien. Draco felt uneasy, as if someone were walking half a step behind him, just waiting for him to turn round.
He quickened his pace slightly, telling himself he simply didn’t want to be late. He had plenty of time to spare, but it was better to be safe than sorry. He didn’t stop until he reached Hartmann’s door. The dragon took a deep breath and knocked.
‘Come in!’ a strong voice called from inside.
Only now did Draco realise he was early, but it was too late to change his behaviour. Cursing his own stupidity and ill-advised haste, he opened the door and stepped inside. The room wasn’t particularly large, and the clutter piled up inside made it seem even smaller. Rolled-up maps were scattered haphazardly along the walls, and here and there amongst them lay old military regalia:
