Shadows and Thoughts
By Sarah Snyder
Harry laid passively on his bed, dully examining the patterns made by the flowing shadows. It had only been one week since term ended, yet it also seemed to have been a year. Sighing, he turned his head towards the bedroom window. Memories of previous events floated through his mind while he slowly glanced at the clock; 12:30 pm. The evening was surprisingly pleasant around number four, Privet Drive. Ever so often, a car would pass along the street or the wind would gently whisper through the branches of the nearby trees but otherwise, the night was as peaceful as it was pleasant. Harry hardly noticed this as he raised himself from the bed and glanced out the window. The street lamps glowed coldly, hiding the well- trimmed lawns in deep shadow.
Harry placed his forehead against the glass as he continued to ponder the many things that continued to drift about his mind and which floated like ghosts in his dreams. Cedric visited there and his parents also were common guests but the ones that remained fixed in his mind were Sirius Black, Voldemort, and Kreacher.
Kreacher, that name always brought heat to Harry's cheeks but confusion in his mind. He detested Kreacher, loathed his part in Sirius's death, but Dumbledore's words echoed in his mind as well. "Kreacher is what he has been made by wizards, Harry," those words always softly whispered in his head whenever Kreacher entered his mind. It was obvious that Kreacher had been mistreated by his masters, even by Harry's beloved godfather Sirius, but many questions still hung in Harry's mind. Dobby, the odd yet friendly house-elf that Harry had met in his second year, had been mistreated as well; Dumbledore himself had admitted it. What Harry wondered was why they turned out so different.
He knew that they were not the only ones, the similarities between himself and Voldemort were unnerving; but yet Harry still wondered. Was it purely one's choices or was it something else as well. This question had existed since Harry first met Tom Riddle and learned of his history. When Harry had asked Dumbledore about it, the answer had been that it was one's choices that decide what one is. When Harry was young, he accepted this without hesitation, but now he began to wonder if that was completely true.
Harry moaned softly as he rubbed his weary eyes. It was not uncommon for him to be awake at odd hours. Yet, with all that had happened, all his questions that had been answered only to be replaced with new ones, he felt older then his age. Harry felt as if the same frustration he had felt all that past term still clung to him, yet it laid cold and thick in his heart instead of boiling and overflowing his mind. Harry had sent letters to his friends out of boredom but had not received answers. It still was the beginning of summer so Harry decided to let them have time to respond.
He often wondered what, if any, plans they might be making for this holiday. With the ministry no longer blinded by wishful ignorance, Voldemort was not likely to be nearly as quiet as the previous year. It was completely clear to Harry, the danger was bound to be greater then before. Many times before while the night was still, Harry had returned to the prophesy and what fate it demanded. He had asked himself many times before, which fate did he want to become reality? Harry knew firmly that he didn't want to die, but often he felt trapped. He did not wish to be a murderer either.
It was true that Voldemort had destroyed many lives, but vengeance did not seem enough to justify such action. Whenever anyone endangered Voldemort or his plans, he destroyed them. Would he Harry be any different if he destroyed Voldemort to protect himself and his friends? These thoughts had raced through Harry's mind during the last days of term and continued to hover lazily about while others nagged for attention. It was only during the empty silence of the night that they made themselves known, troubling his dreams along with random images and thoughts of Sirius.
Harry crept to the bathroom where his mind slipped away while sipping a little water. He stood for a while there, not really thinking or seeing anything around him. Then his feet returned him to the bedroom while Harry's mind remained away. Harry glanced as the calendar, June 31st, a month from his birthday. Zombie-like, he spread himself on the bed and closed his eyes.
His mind was filled with darkness at the beginning but then something faded into view. In was a small book, the cover scaly and dark. It had no title and yet, Harry felt as if he had known of it all his life. As he drew closer, it opened. The pages were lined with words written in small, spidery letters. Before Harry could react, a scarlet light surrounded him and everything vanished into darkness.
A few moments later, he found himself spread out on a grass-clad hill. When Harry stretched out, he cried out in surprise. Instead of his hands, long taloned claws were spread out in front of him. Close to the base of the hill, a clear mirror-like lake glimmered in the gentle sun. Harry crawled towards it, strangely unable to stand up right, and cast a look in the placid surface. An ebony black serpent-like dragon returned his gaze.
"Greetings." Harry whipped around. Another dragon, small with ruby red scales, stood grinning a few feet behind him. "I don't believe we have met before, my name is Pyronic." The dragon extended a claw towards Harry. Harry nervously accepted the claw, "My name is Harry. What is this place?" Pyronic shrugged, "I am not sure. It is not a real place but it is home to me and the many other inhabitants."
Harry looked around in confusion, "If it isn't a real place, then how did I get here?" Pyronic shrugged again, "All the beings here that I know of were born here. I am afraid that I can't really help you there." Pyronic then turned and began to trot away. "Wait!" Harry called, "Can you help me in any way? I have no idea what is going on and how to return to my world."
Pyronic didn't stop nor turn around yet Harry could faintly hear him, "Know this, only those who belong here are here. If you are here, then it must mean that you were meant to be here. If anything burdens your heart or mind, it must be left here if you ever wish to depart." Pyronic disappeared over the edge of the hill.
Confused and alone, Harry traveled around the small place in hope that others would be willing to advise him. He searched in vain. Despite Pyronic's words, there didn't appear to be another living creature in this world. Discouraged, his mind buzzed with many new questions mingling with the old ones. Harry returned to the lake, uncertain what to do or how to escape. Weary from his search, the sun made him light-headed. Harry fell asleep and began to dream.
He saw his normal self seated in an empty classroom, three colored pieces of paper laid on the table next to him. A woman appeared behind that table and began to fold one of the sheets. When she had finished, it disappeared from her hand. Then it floated in front of his face. The paper was black and it had been folded into a dog. Somehow eyes and a mouth had been added yet Harry had not seen the woman with a quill or ink. To his surprise, it barked happily and licked his face.
A soft voice then whispered in his ear, "You have suffered losses, is that not true? It is not possible for one to forever hold all that is dear and never have to let it go. There is pain, but the separation is never permanent. Thus, it is important that one releases oneself from such obsession and allow one's self to live." The dog disappeared and the woman began to fold another piece of paper.
This time, it was shaped like a house-elf, the face looked happy. This creation danced in front of Harry; the face happy at first then altered, the face slowly filled with pain. Finally, the pain over-whelmed the entire figure, destroying what good had dwelled within it. "One can not tell what shapes one's heart. Therefore, it is impossible to completely know what shapes the hearts of others. What is possible, as well as necessary, is to show mercy to all that one encounters regardless of who they are. It is only through mercy and compassion that anything good can come to be."
The house-elf also disappeared and the woman folded the final piece of paper; it was a violent orange with vivid Chinese Fireballs spewing flame while brilliant phoenixes soared above on one side, a deep indigo with slumbering demiguises and mournful augureys drifting on the wind on the other. This she folded into a small cup. The cup then filled by itself, the liquid was dark yet clear. It almost seemed to radiate an unearthly coldness beyond any that Harry had ever known.
The woman then rose from the table and approached him; the substance seemed to release an icy mist, thick and ghost-like. An unexplainable fear entered his heart as the woman held the cup in front of him. "This cup is often drunk from, indeed all are destined to one day drink from it. It cannot be avoided. However, some have been made to drink of it long before their proper time. Some of these because they saw no other way to turn, others because the cup was forced upon them. Once any drink from this cup, they will never drink of it nor of any other cup again. To some, the taste is bitter, to others sweet, to the rest is somewhere in between. Knowing this, there is a choice to be made. Would one, if the choice was given, force another to drink it so that others might not have to drink it too soon? Or let that one person be and grant him or her the chance to force others to drink it despite that they might have much time left before they had to drink? Remember this and remember it well." The woman and the room faded away into darkness.
Pyronic was close by when Harry awoke. "It appears that you have been given the aid you sought," there was a trace of sadness in Pyronic's voice. Harry looked about; the ground itself seemed faded and stretched. The sun's light was dim and darkness filled the sky. "I was not willing to properly aid you because I feared that this would happening. This might sound cruel but I must beg of you not to try to leave or do anything more, this world is the only one I have and I do not want to die." Harry struggled as he mentally tried to return to his natural form.
"Stop!!" Pyronic demanded, his voice oddly similar to someone else that Harry knew. Harry watched as Pyronic's form shifted. Soon, he resembled a young Tom Riddle. "I am sorry Harry but I have to do what I can to stop you. You are destroying me with every thought of departure that passes through your mind." A wand appeared in Pyronic's hand and he pointed it at Harry. "You wanted to know what this place is, it is the Shadowy book of dragons, a part of the mind link between you and Tom Riddle that he found less then a month ago. As long as you are here, it flourishes and is beautiful. The instant you leave, it will crumble and with it, me as well. Choose your fate Potter! Will you dwell willingly here or will I have to enchant you so you never can leave?" Harry ignored him; focusing on the false world, willing it to disappear.
The world slowly begun to completely fade, "No!!" Pyronic cried as
his body also began to fade. He fell onto his knees, "Please save
me!! I am not really evil!! I just don't want to die, that's all!!
Please spare my life!!" Harry frowned, could he trust him after he
revealed himself to be a part of something that Voldemort created.
As Harry pondered this, the woman's words echoed in his mind. "It is
only through mercy and compassion that anything good can come to be."
In his heart, Harry felt that he could trust Pyronic. "Very well,
you may come. You have to tell everything you know first." Pyronic's
eyes were wet with joyous tears, "Yes, Yes! I will gladly tell you
anything!!" "How did I come to this place before and is there
anything you know about any of Voldemort's plans." Pyronic hung his
head, "Voldemort forced your mind into this place so he could take
over your body and use it to destroy Dumbledore. That is all I know."
Harry started, "We have to leave at once!! I refuse to let anything
happen to anyone else!" They both focused on Harry's body and slowly,
they departed as the book crumbled to dust.
Dumbledore sat in the Leaky Cauldron, waiting for Harry to come. He held a letter in his hand. It read:
Dear Professor Dumbledore,
Strange things have been going on around Privet Drive lately. (I cannot describe them in case the other side finds this letter.) Please me at the Leaky Cauldron, I really need to discuss this with you. Signed, Harry Potter Dumbledore scratched his head. What could be happening at Privet drive? He still had members of the order keeping close watch over Harry and they hadn't reported anything. Dumbledore sighed; he knew Potter and what he was like when he was little. It didn't seem to be likely that he was lying and yet, this whole matter hung uneasy in his mind. This might be one of Voldemort's traps if he had succeeded in finding more people to blackmail and force into his service. Dumbledore pondered these possibilities while running fingers through his beard. He decided to wait until Harry, or else the person posing as him, chose to arrive.
Voldemort smirked to himself as he sat in his private quarters; it just seemed too easy. He had found the precise moment in which the boy's mind was most vulnerable then had trapped him were there could not be any escape. After that, all Voldemort had to do was possess Potter and he had the perfect way to destroy Dumbledore, the most persistence obstacle in his way.
He chuckled as the image of Dumbledore's hurt and confused face drifted into his mind. Well, it was time to send off dear little 'Harry' to 'talk' with his dear Headmaster. Voldemort focused on Harry's body, willing it to first gather together all his belongings then had him flag the Night Bus. Everything was going perfectly.
Harry and Pyronic struggled to find the way back to Harry's body. Suddenly, they found themselves inside a body. Not the right one. "What!!" Voldemort cried out, shaking his head furiously. "Pyronic!! What are you doing here?" "Hurry Harry!" Pyronic cried as he began to mess around with Voldemort's mind, "I will do my best to buy you time!!" Harry's consciousness returned to his own body and jumped of the bus the instant it stopped.
He burst into the Leaky Cauldron. "Harry!" Dumbledore cried as Harry panted, completely out of breath. "What happened?" Dumbledore went over to help him. "Watch out!!" Harry panted, "Voldemort wrote that note, he is trying to possess me again and is after you!!" As if summoned, Voldemort's mind tried to flood his. I cannot let you succeed. Harry thought. This is my body and I will not let you play with it like a toy!!
As they struggled, another voice was heard. "Harry," it was Pyronic!! "I can distract him for a time, while he is busy, you must focus your thoughts on love and everything that matters to you. It is the only way to banish him from your mind!!" Suddenly, Harry heard Voldemort shriek with pain and turn on Pyronic. Harry then thought about Sirius, the Weasleys, Hermione, his professors (except Snape). Voldemort shrieked again then completely fled. Harry's scar, he was so occupied fighting Voldemort that he forgot it existed, burned so harshly that Harry vision fell into darkness.
Voldemort laid unconscious while Pyronic and the strange woman in Harry's dream 'tidied up' the headquarters. "How did you find us Gaya? I thought that Tom had shattered your form and sealed your mind inside a dragon?" "Well Pyronic," Gaya replied simply, "Where there is a will, there is a way." Pyronic chuckled, "You really are good at being wise and amusing Gaya." She smiled, "Well, I am Gaya Natasha. Trotter aren't I?" Pyronic nodded while they finished their work then they disappeared.
Harry awoke in his room at the Dursleys. Confused, he examined the clock, 8:00 am. Harry changed into proper clothes and trotted downstairs. The Dursleys were seated around the table. No one took notice as he seated himself and loaded his plate. Harry glanced at Uncle Vernon's newspaper and gave a start: The date was June 31st!! Harry sat stiffly in his seat, how could this have happened! Could it all have been a dream? Harry rubbed his forehead and after finishing his breakfast, returned to his room. Could it have been a dream? He asked himself, looking out his bedroom window. It seemed so real! And yet, how else could today be June 31st?
As Harry stood at his window, pondering these questions. Two figures passed by silently. "I still don't know how you managed it Gaya?" Pyronic whispered as they walked unseen. "Lets just say that there are many forms of magic Pyronic," a mysterious twinkle in her eye. "And some of them are more mysterious then others." They continued to walk on until they disappeared over the horizon.
By Sarah Snyder
Harry laid passively on his bed, dully examining the patterns made by the flowing shadows. It had only been one week since term ended, yet it also seemed to have been a year. Sighing, he turned his head towards the bedroom window. Memories of previous events floated through his mind while he slowly glanced at the clock; 12:30 pm. The evening was surprisingly pleasant around number four, Privet Drive. Ever so often, a car would pass along the street or the wind would gently whisper through the branches of the nearby trees but otherwise, the night was as peaceful as it was pleasant. Harry hardly noticed this as he raised himself from the bed and glanced out the window. The street lamps glowed coldly, hiding the well- trimmed lawns in deep shadow.
Harry placed his forehead against the glass as he continued to ponder the many things that continued to drift about his mind and which floated like ghosts in his dreams. Cedric visited there and his parents also were common guests but the ones that remained fixed in his mind were Sirius Black, Voldemort, and Kreacher.
Kreacher, that name always brought heat to Harry's cheeks but confusion in his mind. He detested Kreacher, loathed his part in Sirius's death, but Dumbledore's words echoed in his mind as well. "Kreacher is what he has been made by wizards, Harry," those words always softly whispered in his head whenever Kreacher entered his mind. It was obvious that Kreacher had been mistreated by his masters, even by Harry's beloved godfather Sirius, but many questions still hung in Harry's mind. Dobby, the odd yet friendly house-elf that Harry had met in his second year, had been mistreated as well; Dumbledore himself had admitted it. What Harry wondered was why they turned out so different.
He knew that they were not the only ones, the similarities between himself and Voldemort were unnerving; but yet Harry still wondered. Was it purely one's choices or was it something else as well. This question had existed since Harry first met Tom Riddle and learned of his history. When Harry had asked Dumbledore about it, the answer had been that it was one's choices that decide what one is. When Harry was young, he accepted this without hesitation, but now he began to wonder if that was completely true.
Harry moaned softly as he rubbed his weary eyes. It was not uncommon for him to be awake at odd hours. Yet, with all that had happened, all his questions that had been answered only to be replaced with new ones, he felt older then his age. Harry felt as if the same frustration he had felt all that past term still clung to him, yet it laid cold and thick in his heart instead of boiling and overflowing his mind. Harry had sent letters to his friends out of boredom but had not received answers. It still was the beginning of summer so Harry decided to let them have time to respond.
He often wondered what, if any, plans they might be making for this holiday. With the ministry no longer blinded by wishful ignorance, Voldemort was not likely to be nearly as quiet as the previous year. It was completely clear to Harry, the danger was bound to be greater then before. Many times before while the night was still, Harry had returned to the prophesy and what fate it demanded. He had asked himself many times before, which fate did he want to become reality? Harry knew firmly that he didn't want to die, but often he felt trapped. He did not wish to be a murderer either.
It was true that Voldemort had destroyed many lives, but vengeance did not seem enough to justify such action. Whenever anyone endangered Voldemort or his plans, he destroyed them. Would he Harry be any different if he destroyed Voldemort to protect himself and his friends? These thoughts had raced through Harry's mind during the last days of term and continued to hover lazily about while others nagged for attention. It was only during the empty silence of the night that they made themselves known, troubling his dreams along with random images and thoughts of Sirius.
Harry crept to the bathroom where his mind slipped away while sipping a little water. He stood for a while there, not really thinking or seeing anything around him. Then his feet returned him to the bedroom while Harry's mind remained away. Harry glanced as the calendar, June 31st, a month from his birthday. Zombie-like, he spread himself on the bed and closed his eyes.
His mind was filled with darkness at the beginning but then something faded into view. In was a small book, the cover scaly and dark. It had no title and yet, Harry felt as if he had known of it all his life. As he drew closer, it opened. The pages were lined with words written in small, spidery letters. Before Harry could react, a scarlet light surrounded him and everything vanished into darkness.
A few moments later, he found himself spread out on a grass-clad hill. When Harry stretched out, he cried out in surprise. Instead of his hands, long taloned claws were spread out in front of him. Close to the base of the hill, a clear mirror-like lake glimmered in the gentle sun. Harry crawled towards it, strangely unable to stand up right, and cast a look in the placid surface. An ebony black serpent-like dragon returned his gaze.
"Greetings." Harry whipped around. Another dragon, small with ruby red scales, stood grinning a few feet behind him. "I don't believe we have met before, my name is Pyronic." The dragon extended a claw towards Harry. Harry nervously accepted the claw, "My name is Harry. What is this place?" Pyronic shrugged, "I am not sure. It is not a real place but it is home to me and the many other inhabitants."
Harry looked around in confusion, "If it isn't a real place, then how did I get here?" Pyronic shrugged again, "All the beings here that I know of were born here. I am afraid that I can't really help you there." Pyronic then turned and began to trot away. "Wait!" Harry called, "Can you help me in any way? I have no idea what is going on and how to return to my world."
Pyronic didn't stop nor turn around yet Harry could faintly hear him, "Know this, only those who belong here are here. If you are here, then it must mean that you were meant to be here. If anything burdens your heart or mind, it must be left here if you ever wish to depart." Pyronic disappeared over the edge of the hill.
Confused and alone, Harry traveled around the small place in hope that others would be willing to advise him. He searched in vain. Despite Pyronic's words, there didn't appear to be another living creature in this world. Discouraged, his mind buzzed with many new questions mingling with the old ones. Harry returned to the lake, uncertain what to do or how to escape. Weary from his search, the sun made him light-headed. Harry fell asleep and began to dream.
He saw his normal self seated in an empty classroom, three colored pieces of paper laid on the table next to him. A woman appeared behind that table and began to fold one of the sheets. When she had finished, it disappeared from her hand. Then it floated in front of his face. The paper was black and it had been folded into a dog. Somehow eyes and a mouth had been added yet Harry had not seen the woman with a quill or ink. To his surprise, it barked happily and licked his face.
A soft voice then whispered in his ear, "You have suffered losses, is that not true? It is not possible for one to forever hold all that is dear and never have to let it go. There is pain, but the separation is never permanent. Thus, it is important that one releases oneself from such obsession and allow one's self to live." The dog disappeared and the woman began to fold another piece of paper.
This time, it was shaped like a house-elf, the face looked happy. This creation danced in front of Harry; the face happy at first then altered, the face slowly filled with pain. Finally, the pain over-whelmed the entire figure, destroying what good had dwelled within it. "One can not tell what shapes one's heart. Therefore, it is impossible to completely know what shapes the hearts of others. What is possible, as well as necessary, is to show mercy to all that one encounters regardless of who they are. It is only through mercy and compassion that anything good can come to be."
The house-elf also disappeared and the woman folded the final piece of paper; it was a violent orange with vivid Chinese Fireballs spewing flame while brilliant phoenixes soared above on one side, a deep indigo with slumbering demiguises and mournful augureys drifting on the wind on the other. This she folded into a small cup. The cup then filled by itself, the liquid was dark yet clear. It almost seemed to radiate an unearthly coldness beyond any that Harry had ever known.
The woman then rose from the table and approached him; the substance seemed to release an icy mist, thick and ghost-like. An unexplainable fear entered his heart as the woman held the cup in front of him. "This cup is often drunk from, indeed all are destined to one day drink from it. It cannot be avoided. However, some have been made to drink of it long before their proper time. Some of these because they saw no other way to turn, others because the cup was forced upon them. Once any drink from this cup, they will never drink of it nor of any other cup again. To some, the taste is bitter, to others sweet, to the rest is somewhere in between. Knowing this, there is a choice to be made. Would one, if the choice was given, force another to drink it so that others might not have to drink it too soon? Or let that one person be and grant him or her the chance to force others to drink it despite that they might have much time left before they had to drink? Remember this and remember it well." The woman and the room faded away into darkness.
Pyronic was close by when Harry awoke. "It appears that you have been given the aid you sought," there was a trace of sadness in Pyronic's voice. Harry looked about; the ground itself seemed faded and stretched. The sun's light was dim and darkness filled the sky. "I was not willing to properly aid you because I feared that this would happening. This might sound cruel but I must beg of you not to try to leave or do anything more, this world is the only one I have and I do not want to die." Harry struggled as he mentally tried to return to his natural form.
"Stop!!" Pyronic demanded, his voice oddly similar to someone else that Harry knew. Harry watched as Pyronic's form shifted. Soon, he resembled a young Tom Riddle. "I am sorry Harry but I have to do what I can to stop you. You are destroying me with every thought of departure that passes through your mind." A wand appeared in Pyronic's hand and he pointed it at Harry. "You wanted to know what this place is, it is the Shadowy book of dragons, a part of the mind link between you and Tom Riddle that he found less then a month ago. As long as you are here, it flourishes and is beautiful. The instant you leave, it will crumble and with it, me as well. Choose your fate Potter! Will you dwell willingly here or will I have to enchant you so you never can leave?" Harry ignored him; focusing on the false world, willing it to disappear.
The world slowly begun to completely fade, "No!!" Pyronic cried as
his body also began to fade. He fell onto his knees, "Please save
me!! I am not really evil!! I just don't want to die, that's all!!
Please spare my life!!" Harry frowned, could he trust him after he
revealed himself to be a part of something that Voldemort created.
As Harry pondered this, the woman's words echoed in his mind. "It is
only through mercy and compassion that anything good can come to be."
In his heart, Harry felt that he could trust Pyronic. "Very well,
you may come. You have to tell everything you know first." Pyronic's
eyes were wet with joyous tears, "Yes, Yes! I will gladly tell you
anything!!" "How did I come to this place before and is there
anything you know about any of Voldemort's plans." Pyronic hung his
head, "Voldemort forced your mind into this place so he could take
over your body and use it to destroy Dumbledore. That is all I know."
Harry started, "We have to leave at once!! I refuse to let anything
happen to anyone else!" They both focused on Harry's body and slowly,
they departed as the book crumbled to dust.
Dumbledore sat in the Leaky Cauldron, waiting for Harry to come. He held a letter in his hand. It read:
Dear Professor Dumbledore,
Strange things have been going on around Privet Drive lately. (I cannot describe them in case the other side finds this letter.) Please me at the Leaky Cauldron, I really need to discuss this with you. Signed, Harry Potter Dumbledore scratched his head. What could be happening at Privet drive? He still had members of the order keeping close watch over Harry and they hadn't reported anything. Dumbledore sighed; he knew Potter and what he was like when he was little. It didn't seem to be likely that he was lying and yet, this whole matter hung uneasy in his mind. This might be one of Voldemort's traps if he had succeeded in finding more people to blackmail and force into his service. Dumbledore pondered these possibilities while running fingers through his beard. He decided to wait until Harry, or else the person posing as him, chose to arrive.
Voldemort smirked to himself as he sat in his private quarters; it just seemed too easy. He had found the precise moment in which the boy's mind was most vulnerable then had trapped him were there could not be any escape. After that, all Voldemort had to do was possess Potter and he had the perfect way to destroy Dumbledore, the most persistence obstacle in his way.
He chuckled as the image of Dumbledore's hurt and confused face drifted into his mind. Well, it was time to send off dear little 'Harry' to 'talk' with his dear Headmaster. Voldemort focused on Harry's body, willing it to first gather together all his belongings then had him flag the Night Bus. Everything was going perfectly.
Harry and Pyronic struggled to find the way back to Harry's body. Suddenly, they found themselves inside a body. Not the right one. "What!!" Voldemort cried out, shaking his head furiously. "Pyronic!! What are you doing here?" "Hurry Harry!" Pyronic cried as he began to mess around with Voldemort's mind, "I will do my best to buy you time!!" Harry's consciousness returned to his own body and jumped of the bus the instant it stopped.
He burst into the Leaky Cauldron. "Harry!" Dumbledore cried as Harry panted, completely out of breath. "What happened?" Dumbledore went over to help him. "Watch out!!" Harry panted, "Voldemort wrote that note, he is trying to possess me again and is after you!!" As if summoned, Voldemort's mind tried to flood his. I cannot let you succeed. Harry thought. This is my body and I will not let you play with it like a toy!!
As they struggled, another voice was heard. "Harry," it was Pyronic!! "I can distract him for a time, while he is busy, you must focus your thoughts on love and everything that matters to you. It is the only way to banish him from your mind!!" Suddenly, Harry heard Voldemort shriek with pain and turn on Pyronic. Harry then thought about Sirius, the Weasleys, Hermione, his professors (except Snape). Voldemort shrieked again then completely fled. Harry's scar, he was so occupied fighting Voldemort that he forgot it existed, burned so harshly that Harry vision fell into darkness.
Voldemort laid unconscious while Pyronic and the strange woman in Harry's dream 'tidied up' the headquarters. "How did you find us Gaya? I thought that Tom had shattered your form and sealed your mind inside a dragon?" "Well Pyronic," Gaya replied simply, "Where there is a will, there is a way." Pyronic chuckled, "You really are good at being wise and amusing Gaya." She smiled, "Well, I am Gaya Natasha. Trotter aren't I?" Pyronic nodded while they finished their work then they disappeared.
Harry awoke in his room at the Dursleys. Confused, he examined the clock, 8:00 am. Harry changed into proper clothes and trotted downstairs. The Dursleys were seated around the table. No one took notice as he seated himself and loaded his plate. Harry glanced at Uncle Vernon's newspaper and gave a start: The date was June 31st!! Harry sat stiffly in his seat, how could this have happened! Could it all have been a dream? Harry rubbed his forehead and after finishing his breakfast, returned to his room. Could it have been a dream? He asked himself, looking out his bedroom window. It seemed so real! And yet, how else could today be June 31st?
As Harry stood at his window, pondering these questions. Two figures passed by silently. "I still don't know how you managed it Gaya?" Pyronic whispered as they walked unseen. "Lets just say that there are many forms of magic Pyronic," a mysterious twinkle in her eye. "And some of them are more mysterious then others." They continued to walk on until they disappeared over the horizon.