Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Harry Potter and the Dream Come True
Chapter Seven - Rat on the Run
Upon his spectacular success with the Animagus transformation, and the wonderful news that he would be able to fully transform by Christmas, Harry abandoned the secret laboratory in favour of a hearty breakfast. As he sat wolfing down a mountain of buttermilk pancakes smothered in maple syrup, Remus, Sirius, and James had a grand time entertaining him with every funny story they could recall from their youth. A side effect of the transformation appeared to be a massive drain of energy, energy which could be replenished by either food or sleep, although Remus promised that the energy drain would be less as Harry practiced more.
James eyed his son in amusement as he pushed his now-empty plate aside and turned on an innocent apple strudel with a feral gleam in his emerald eyes. "I take it you're enjoying the food."
"It's delicious!" he exclaimed.
"All the food that Kyki makes is a guaranteed slice of heaven," Sirius agreed. "His cherry cheesecake… I'm drooling just thinking about it…"
Missy the house elf suddenly popped into the room. "Is sirs wanting anything else? Kyki is wondering if he is going to be cooking any more now?"
Sirius took a quick poll of the table. "We're good. Unless you happen to have some cheesecake on you?" His hopeful expression nearly made Harry choke on his strudel as he laughed.
Missy frowned. "Cheesecake is bad for you, sir."
"Tell Kyki to make some cherry cheesecake for lunch, would you?" James requested, having not been listening to a word the house elf was saying.
"Sir, you knows that cheese cake is high in fat!" Out of the blue, Missy suddenly let out a high-pitched squeal of horror. "Sir! Your hair, sir! It is not combed!"
James grimaced. "Aww, come on, Missy, you know it doesn't make a difference whether I brush it or not…" Clucking her tongue in distress, Missy ignored her master completely, pulling a comb out of her towel/toga and, with a battle cry, viciously attacked James's hair. "Owww!" James protested eloquently, but it was all for nought. When he continued to struggle, Missy snapped her fingers, and a set of conjured ropes appeared out of nowhere and bound a struggling James to his chair. From there, she proceeded to apply large amounts of gel to his hair in an attempt to flatten it. All in all, it was a terrifying sight to behold.
Harry glanced uncertainly at Sirius; in his past experience with house elves, they never went against their master's wishes. As far as he knew, the enchantments of their kind forced them to do their master's bidding. Is Missy allowed to do that? he wondered apprehensively.
"Sirius, shouldn't Missy be doing what dad ordered?" he repeated aloud, realizing that his friends could not, in fact, read his mind.
Sirius, who was ravenously attacking a large pile of bacon, swallowed a particularly large gulp, and turned to his godson in confusion. "What's that again?" Sighing, Harry pointed to where his father was tied to a chair, yelping every so often as Missy got too enthusiastic with her scissors.
Sirius blinked. "Oh, that. Well, James grew up in this house, right? Missy was his personal caretaker. It was her job, and still is, to make sure he's taken care of."
Harry growled in frustration. "Yeah, but he's her master! Shouldn't she listen to him!" It's impossible to get a straight answer around here! he thought furiously.
"Well, yeah, technically, but…"
"Ignore Sirius, Harry," Remus interrupted smoothly. "Sirius, eat." Sirius ate. "Missy isn't following James's orders because he doesn't really mean them. House elves don't always have to follow orders - only the important ones. After all, didn't you tell me once about some Dobby character who visited you?"
"Yeah. He snuck out to warn me about the Chamber of Secrets opening."
"Exactly," Remus agreed pleasantly. "And his master was Lucius Malfoy, if I remember correctly. And since it is doubtful Lucius would allow Dobby out of the manor, we can only assume Dobby left of his own accord. Since visiting you wasn't putting his master in any danger, he could do it."
Harry was beginning to understand. "So, Missy can ignore Dad's orders because he doesn't mean them, and because she's not putting him in any sort of danger?"
"Precisely. And…" Remus trailed off as Sirius, who had been inhaling food at a frankly unhealthy rate, seemed to have eaten a bit too quickly. He was now turning a fetching shade of blue, and he clutched at his throat wildly.
"That can't be good," Harry noted blankly.
Remus was too busy fumbling around for his wand to pay attention. "I left my wand in my sweater!" he panicked, leaping to his feet and racing off to retrieve the precious piece of wood.
James was unable to comment, as he was currently tied to a chair with a gag in his mouth.
Huffing in irritation, Missy abandoned her hair-cutting attempts, released James with a snap of her fingers, and with another snap, removed whatever was causing Sirius to choke.
After recovering his breath somewhat, Sirius said meekly: "Thanks, Missy." Then he turned to Remus, who had just burst into the room, wand in hand. "And thanks for trying to help, Moony. Perhaps next time you'll remember to keep your wand with you at all times!"
Rolling his eyes, Remus shot back sternly: "And perhaps next time you'll remember to eat more slowly! You have no one to blame but yourself!"
"What are you implying?" Sirius demanded.
"That you eat like a pig!" Remus snapped.
They were cut off by the sullen look Harry was giving his father, who was trying in vain to flatten out his now-spiked hair. Abandoning their argument instantly, they chorused, "What's wrong?"
"I'm useless at magic, that's what's wrong! I don't even know how to do an anti-choking charm. Hell, I don't even know if there is such a thing as an anti-choking charm."
Remus smiled paternally. "You aren't clueless, Harry, you just haven't applied yourself as much as you could have. If you study a bit, you'll learn loads of things that will surely come in handy. Look at Hermione Granger! She reads every book she can get her hands on, and she's top of your year! There's no reason why you can't give her a run for her money!"
Remus seemed so enthralled with the idea that Sirius snickered. Sirius smiled innocently as Remus rounded on his friend in annoyance. "What's so funny?" he inquired.
"You sound so professor-ish! We swore an oath in fourth year that the Marauders would never, under any circumstances, teach! You broke the oath!" Sirius cackled.
"Honestly, Padfoot, you are so childish at times," Remus sighed. "We were young and foolish! Surely you've matured a bit since then." Judging by the expression on the ex-convict's face, it was rather clear to Harry that if Sirius had matured, he certainly wasn't about to let anyone know it.
.:.
After their rather interesting breakfast, the day progressed in a way that Harry could only describe as perfect. Following their morning meal the quartet trooped outside to play a two-on-two game of Quidditch, practice some new moves on Harry's Firebolt, and just have fun in general.
Lunch was a large cherry cheesecake (much to Sirius's delight), followed by treacle tart for pudding. James fretted for a moment about whether, as a parent, he should be encouraging his child to eat dessert for lunch, but quickly waved these concerns aside when Remus suggested dryly that they all eat a hearty meal of celery for dinner.
The afternoon was spent strolling about the expansive, rather picturesque, manor grounds. Potter Manor, Harry learned, featured quite a number of intriguing things, one of which being the large, aquamarine-coloured lake on the western lawns. While James fervently maintained that the lake was of the non-magical variety, Sirius swore to Harry that he had once spotted a mermaid lounging on the shore. Remus had, of course, protested.
"That's ridiculous, Sirius. The merpeople couldn't live in that lake – it is too small, not to mention it does not possess the vegetation necessary to sustain life. Besides, the Ministry has to approve locations for them to live in. Potter Manor is private property; it wouldn't be allowed, for fear we'd 'recruit' them or some other ridiculous reason."
Harry got the impression that Remus wasn't overly fond of the Ministry.
While James and Sirius seemed rather impressed by this display of knowledge, Harry, who'd received the same type of speech from Hermione thousands of times, picked up something his guardians had apparently missed.
"What d'you mean, recruit them?" he asked suspiciously. "Why would we recruit merpeople?" Then he thought of the Death Eaters, and realized they'd jump at the chance to recruit an underwater army. "Nevermind," he said meekly. "Stupid question."
Sirius frowned. "Not as much as you might think. Obviously evil gits like Snape and Malfoy would do something evil like that, and the Ministry would be right to suspect them." He grinned. "They'd also be right to throw the scumbags in Azkaban, but that's not the issue. Malfoy and Snape, I understand, but why would they restrict the Potters, of all families?"
There was a moment of silence as they considered the question.
James had no idea. For God's sake, he'd just popped out of hell yesterday morning! How was he supposed to have an opinion on the Ministry's blatant stupidity?
Sirius, unlike James, knew first-hand the injustice of the Ministry, but as he'd been in hiding, and hadn't had direct contact with it in years, couldn't divine an answer.
Remus and Harry, however, both managed to reach a similar conclusion. Remus had had many dealings with the Ministry in the past, and knew many of their ways of thinking. And Harry's opinion was formulated purely from what he'd read in that horrid paper The Daily Prophet.
"In the past, probably just to keep everything equal," Remus hypothesized. "Although nowadays, you'd think they'd want all the armies they could get on our side, whether they be on land or sea."
"If only Fudge weren't being such a git," Harry sighed. When James gave him a questioning look, he added: "After Professor Dumbledore started announcing Voldemort's return, the Daily Prophet has been discrediting him."
James gaped at his friends. "You're joking."
"First they just made snide remarks about him in the Prophet," Sirius explained, "But now they've removed him from the Wizengamot, and he's also been kicked out of his position as Chief Warlock of the Wizard's council. Not to mention the articles about him having gone senile."
"Which are, obviously, not very complimentary," Remus concluded. "Speaking of articles, I nearly forgot to tell Harry about the Prophet's latest scheme to discredit you."
"What are they doing?" Harry demanded.
"They have been spreading stories that you're insane," Sirius said bluntly. "Something along the lines of you being an attention seeking child-star who's desperate for more fame, and is therefore making up tall tales to keep himself in the limelight."
"That was a direct quote," Remus added.
James appeared to be absolutely furious about this latest injustice. "How dare they? Criticizing my son! Making up ridiculous stories just so their bloody newspaper can sell! I'm of a mind to storm over there right now! I'll teach those bloody gits not to lie! Oh, they can yammer on about cauldron thickness all they want, but criticize my son? Not happening!"
Now seething in fury, James plunged his hand inside his robes to retrieve his wand and storm off to do something he'd probably get arrested for. Or at least, he would have, if Sirius hadn't grabbed his hand, and when that failed, wrestled him to the ground. Madly wrestling for control of James's wand, Sirius proved victorious, and leapt back before James could get the wand back.
"GIVE ME THAT!" James bellowed. "I'LL NOT LET THE DAILY PROPHET TELL LIES! IT'S ABSOLUTELY RIDICULOUS, AND I AM NOT GOING TO STAND HERE AND LET THEM TEAR APART OUR SOCIETY-"
"Always melodramatic, our dear James," Remus commented mildly to Harry, who was watching the scene with no small amount of amusement.
"YOU'RE OFF YOUR ROCKER!" Sirius shouted, scrambling away as James lunged at him. "YOU CAN'T ATTACK THE BLOODY DAILY PROPHET! YOU'LL GET CHUCKED IN AZKABAN! YOU GIT!" he added for good measure.
Tired of Sirius and James's shouting match, Remus flourished his wand at his friends and declared calmly: "Silencio"Harry watched in interest. That spell could come in handy one day, he thought. Maybe I can persuade Remus to teach me it before school starts…
That brought an unexpected pang to Harry's stomach. When school began… it would mean he'd have to leave the Potter manor! He'd have to leave his father, his godfather, and a man who was fast becoming a great friend. This isn't fair! his mind screamed. I want to spend more time with my father!
Then Harry's practicality took over. He suppressed the unhappy thoughts with a strong mental shove. He'd just have to deal with the separation when the time came, and that time was not now.
Turning to Remus, who was watching calmly as James and Sirius gave him violently gestured threats, Harry cleared his throat, drawing their attention back to him. "The way I see it, the Prophet exists to sell itself. But now that it was publicly announced that Voldemort's back, and that Dumbledore and I weren't lying, surely things will quiet down. For a while, anyway. So we should all calm down. And Dad," Harry added, giving his father a wry smile. "I appreciate you attempting to kill those 'bloody idiots at the Prophet', but I think you should consider skipping that plan for now."
James grinned sheepishly at his son, rather embarrassed that Harry was acting more mature than both he and Sirius put together. Sirius, seeing James's expression, roared in laughter, although the effect was somewhat diminished by the fact that no sound came out of his mouth, thanks to the silencing charm.
.:.
There had been no more arguments that afternoon, and after dinner came and went, James got a strange look in his eye. Harry recognized it immediately. It was the look Hermione got when she sentenced him to hours of revision when final exams were still months away. He glanced around for an escape route, but found himself barricaded on either side by Remus and Sirius, both of whom seemed happily oblivious to the gleam in James's eye.
"Well, that was a great day!" Harry exclaimed, attempting to stall the inevitable.
"Yes, it was," Remus agreed.
James smiled pleasantly at his son and friends. "Quite a nice day. And now that the sun has set, I think that we should do something productive with our lives."
"Such as?" Sirius said obliviously.
"Well, we three should go clean up our secret workroom. We haven't been down there in fourteen years, and it's absolutely vile. And I don't know about you, but I think that I could do with a little magical revision. There's no way the Aurors will accept me back if I can't even stun someone."
"But you can stun people," Sirius said, nonplussed.
James rolled his eyes. "Thank you, Sirius. What I meant is that I'm way off form, and with you being stuck in prison for over a decade, I bet you aren't in much better shape."
"Fine," Sirius huffed. "We'll revise. Stupefy! Happy?"
"We'll reconvene at ten o'clock," Remus announced, getting into the spirit of things.
Sirius gaped at the werewolf in horror. "That's three bloody hours!"
James grinned. "Why, so it is. Hey, you'll thank me if you ever get into a scuffle with a Death Eater who beats you because you haven't cursed anyone in a decade."
"I can take care of myself, thanks very much," Sirius muttered mutinously.
Meanwhile, Harry, who'd been backing up slowly the whole time, was now attempting to open the door without being noticed. Unfortunately, his plan was met with failure.
"I don't think so!" James cackled, rounding on his escaping son. "You, son, get to go practice your Animagus transformation! Or do your homework – whatever you like, as long as you keep yourself occupied."
"Can't I practice with you three?" he asked helplessly.
"You have to do your school work sometime, you know," Remus reminded.
Harry gave a deep sigh. "I know. But I don't want to work!"
Sirius glared at him. "If I have to work, then by God, so do you!"
Remus gave a soft chuckle. "I certainly have missed the way things were before you left, James. Well, if we've got everything all settled, then, I'll be leaving."
Three jaws dropped.
"What? I do have a house, you know," the werewolf said defensively. "And I happen to be rather attached to it, as it happens."
"Awww, don't go, Moony! Stay a while! You haven't seen me in fourteen years! Surely you don't want to leave so soon!" James pleaded.
Remus glanced mildly at his friend, who was grovelling in a wholly pathetic manner on the ground. He didn't seem entirely opposed to the idea, and Sirius took the opportunity to clinch the vote. "Come on, Moony, stay. Besides, if you do, I'll get Kyki to make you a stack of pancakes tomorrow morning. We need you here."
Harry was shocked to see a childlike look of delight appear on his ex-Professor's lined face. "Pancakes! Blueberry pancakes?"
"Any kind you like," Sirius promised, winking at Remus, who smirked and plopped down into a nearby armchair.
"Alright. I'm staying!"
-Harry's Room-
Harry gave a dismal sigh as he heard the heavy wooden doors to his immense chambers swing shut behind him. Crossing the expansive crimson room, and carefully avoiding the several expensive, very breakable glass vases, Harry made his way to his humungous four-poster bed and collapsed upon it with a huff.
It wasn't fair. Sirius, Remus and James got to go viciously attack each other with fantastic hexes while he, Harry, was stuck up here doing his homework. If he didn't know better, he'd have almost thought that they were trying to get him out of the way. But Harry couldn't fault his father for that; he hadn't seen his best friends in fourteen years.
He hasn't seen his son in fourteen years either, he thought mutinously, then hurriedly quashed down the rebellious thought.
Sighing heavily, Harry grabbed a few books, a roll of parchment, and a quill out of his trunk, and slowly scribbled "The Effects of Wolfsbane" at the top of the aged parchment. Then he propped open his many books in a nice pattern all over his bedspread, and began to write his Potions essay.
Half an hour later, Harry had completed perhaps a foot of his three-foot long essay. Needless to say, he was bored to death. Then a thought hit him. James had told him to practice his Animagus transformation, hadn't he? And hadn't he also said, "Or do your homework – whatever you like, as long as you keep yourself occupied." Did 'whatever you like' extend to practicing his sword fighting?
Harry couldn't see why not, so he plunged his hand underneath the mattress and retrieved the lethal black long-sword that was Decimare. The snake on the hilt snapped angrily at him, and hissed:
.:Where have you been? Your training will get nowhere if you persist in prancing off elsewhere every time you see something that interests you:.
Harry winced, and quickly vowed to practice for at least an hour a day. It was not impressed, but ceded that it would do for now.
Like yesterday, Harry drew the sword and, following the snake's instructions, began practicing his technique. Also like yesterday, Decimare managed to find fault with every single thing Harry did, and for good reason.
.:Lunge. Good. Now parry. Parry! That wasn't a parry, Master, that was more of a - watch it! You'll chop off your own leg doing that! You'll want to stay away from that lamp… or not. It's a good thing there are about six more of them in this ridiculously extravagant room of yours:.
Harry decided to spend the two and half hours he had practicing with his sword, mainly so it wouldn't get angry with him and kill him in his sleep. Of course, Harry wasn't sure whether Decimare could actually wield itself, but he was prepared to bet that it could. By the end of the session, Harry had successfully learned a simple blocking pattern, which he delighted in repeating over and over. Of course, he was still rubbish at sword fighting, which Decimare was only too happy to point out.
.:Block. Right, now lunge. Master, you are incapable of doing even the simplest of things! Why is it that a five year old I once trained was able to accomplish what you have in less than five minutes:.
Harry gave the sword a suspicious look. "What were you doing training a five year old?"
.:That is not important:. Decimare hissed dismissively. .:I believe that we are done for tonight. You are clearly useless at sword fighting:.
Harry couldn't get over how incredibly un-motivational his sword was. "Thanks. Perhaps you'd like to tell me how to improve, or would you rather just criticize me?" To his everlasting surprise, Decimare actually seemed pleased with his response.
.:You are growing a backbone, Master! You want advice? I'll give you some. Although you are in shape, you aren't as fit as you could be. Your muscles are geared towards things like flying - you need to also have the muscles required to sword fight. If you want to use a sword properly, you need to be able to utilize it to its fullest:.
"So what am I supposed to do? Jog every morning?"
Decimare hissed thoughtfully .:That's an idea. Let me think… yes. That will do nicely. Here is your new exercise schedule, Master. Stick to it. If you do not do your workout, I will know. And believe me, you will regret it:.
Harry was intimidated, it was official. "Alright. Whatever you want!" He figured it wouldn't be too bad. After all, Decimare may be a mystical object of unknowable power, but it was still just a piece of metal! How demanding could it possibly be?
.:Every morning run three times around the lake:.
Harry gaped. "That lake is huge! It's got to be a mile wide!"
.:One and a half, actually:. it replied smugly. .:And after you run, you are to do one hundred pushups and one hundred sit-ups:.
"Is that all?" Harry snapped sarcastically.
.:Well, if you think you can do more, then we'll add five hundred jumping jacks for good measure:.
Harry glared at the sword. He was tempted to toss it out the huge window to his left right then and there, but then remembered he'd promised to do as it asked. Damn. He compensated by slamming the sword back into its scabbard, and shoving it ruthlessly under his bed in an entirely violent manner.
"Stupid sword," he grumbled. "No wonder its past Masters died. It probably worked them to death." However, reflecting on his training schedule, he realized it wasn't that bad. After all, the sword could have demanded ten times that amount, and he would've had to do it, thanks to his promise. Of course, he could have broken his promise, but Harry didn't like doing that unless he had no other choice.
"Talking to yourself, are you? One of the first signs of insanity," Sirius remarked cheekily, appearing out of nowhere beside Harry.
"How long have you been here?" Harry yelped, involuntarily jumping at his godfather's unexpected arrival.
Sirius raised his arms protectively. "Hey, calm down, kid! I've been here all of a minute!"
Harry relaxed. "Oh. What did you want?"
Sirius gave him a hurt expression. "Do I need a reason to visit my favourite godson?"
Harry squinted at him suspiciously. "I'm your only godson."
Sirius gave a bark-like laugh. "True enough. And a pity, I must say. Imagine how many children are out there wishing that they could have Sirius Black as a Godfather. You lucky boy, you."
Harry laughed, and Sirius drew Harry into a hug, ruffling his hair. Swatting his godfather's hand away, Harry grinned up at the man, who gave a contented sigh and plopped down on a nearby armchair. Harry felt that there were a suspicious amount of conveniently located armchairs for people to plop down on in the Potter Manor. "So, what've you been working on? The transformation?"
Harry grimaced guiltily. He had completely forgotten about that, having been occupied with Decimare. Sirius examined him piercingly. "No, eh? Well then, what have you been doing? You haven't been doing anything illegal, have you?"
Harry smiled shakily. As far as he knew, he wasn't supposed to have taken that sword from the Potter vault. But then, he was the only one who could use it properly, being a Parselmouth and all, and he certainly didn't want Voldemort using it. Besides, it was in the Potter vault, and he was a Potter! Wasn't he entitled to anything he wanted? Certainly, he should have asked his father about it, but you can't have everything.
Sirius suddenly gave his godson a concerned look. "Wait, you weren't doing anything illegal, were you?" Harry quickly shook his head, prompting Sirius to give a sigh of relief. "Thank God. The Ministry would kill to have something to use against you. Mustn't hand them a reason to send you to Azkaban gift wrapped, must we?"
Harry smiled slightly. Sirius ruffled his hair again. "Good kid. And now we can - my god, would you look at the time? It's nearly 10:30! James is gonna kill me!"
"Why?"
Sirius smirked. "Oh. Well, I was actually supposed to come and put you to bed. I think James sometimes forgets that you aren't a baby anymore."
Harry sighed. "Yeah. I can only imagine how tough this must be for him. Imagine, your wife dead and your son almost done school. Must be horrible."
"Yeah, well, what can I say?" Sirius shrugged. "You just keep acting the way you are, and James'll be fine in no time. Speaking as his best friend, I can personally tell you that you are being wonderful to him, and he really appreciates it."
"Really?"
"Harry, I know him better than he knows himself," Sirius said seriously. "He's glad you're here. Really. And about the Animagus thing, Harry. If you want anything to happen, you have to work on it."
Harry frowned. "Yeah, I know. I just had other things to do tonight. I'll start tomorrow." Sirius gave him an appraising look, as if to judge his sincerity, and seemed to find him being truthful.
"Alright, I can live with that. See you tomorrow, kid. And... are you going to have another one of those dreams again?"
Harry frowned. "I'm not sure. It's likely, but I can't say yes for sure. Although lately a lot of my dreams have been about endless corridors and locked doors."
Sirius looked pensive. "Well, I think I know a few places that could pertain too, but I'm not sure. Anyways, I'm going to put a silencing charm around your bed, alright? I'm sure Moony, at least, would appreciate his beauty sleep. I'm not shutting you out or anything, I'd just like sleep. Capice?"
Harry smiled. "Yeah, capice. But if I need you…"
"Just stick your head outside of your bed and scream bloody murder."
"I'll do that," he promised.
Sirius smiled fondly at his godson. "Good night, Harry."
"Night," he returned tiredly, turning and heading towards his comfy bed. "I don't suppose Dad'll be dropping in tonight?"
Sirius shifted from foot to foot, looking anxious to tell Harry something, but restraining himself at the same time.
"What is it?" Harry demanded with no small amount of amusement.
"Well, he's just a bit busy getting the… damn, I'm not supposed to tell you that. This secrecy thing is harder than it looks!"
"Getting something? Getting what?" Harry asked eagerly, looking hopefully at his godfather. Sirius seemed on the verge of telling him, but then he smacked himself forcefully on the head and dashed to the door.
"Sorry, Harry, but I've got to go before I say anything I'm not supposed to," he announced.
Frustrated, Harry gave his godfather the most pathetic puppy-dog eyes he could manage. "Come on Sirius, just give me a hint."
Sirius seemed more amused than moved. "You know, that won't work on me. I practically invented that look." Harry highly doubted that. "You don't believe me? Take this!" Sirius shifted to canine form, and looked up at Harry with the widest, most woe-begone chocolate brown eyes that Harry had ever seen. Unable to help himself, Harry leaned down and scratched the adorable creature behind the ear, who started wriggling on the floor in delight. Padfoot probably would've been laughing, if dogs were capable of laughing.
When Sirius shifted back to human form, Harry was forced to give in. He abandoned the puppy-dog eyes at once. Then he sighed hopelessly, and drifted aimlessly back to his bed, making sure he looked as if he were utterly depressed.
Sirius rolled his eyes. "Fine. But you do realize that James will kill me for telling you. I can't say much, but I what I can say is that you'll enjoy it very much." And with a sweep of his robes, Sirius was out the door and gone.
Harry was understandably disgruntled. What kind of hint was that? Useless adults. Then it hit him that he would, in about two years, be considered an adult in the Wizarding world. The concept of being an adult frightened him nearly as much as it had frightened Sirius that morning.
After sluggishly pulling on his pajamas, Harry crawled across the expanse of his feather mattress until he finally reached the middle (or at least where he thought the middle was). He snuggled under the covers, his eyes slowly closing as his weariness finally dragged his exhausted mind into the realm of sleep.
.:Dream:.
Harry was surprised to find himself in a large white room, filled with large black dogs dueling with large, gleaming swords. Strange. Suddenly, a happy man skipped through the room, leading a stampede of rats. That must be the Pied Piper, Harry reflected. That's it, I'm dreaming.
He suddenly found himself flying through the air towards one of the rats, which was slowly growing larger and larger. Harry caught a glimpse of one of its feet, which had a toe missing, before he zoomed straight through its eye, and into a large, dimly lit room. That rat must be Wormtail! Harry realized with a shock.
Harry then realized that he was not alone in the large room. It seemed to be a dining hall of sorts, and it was completely empty, save for a small, round man, with watery blue eyes. Wormtail.
Harry watched as Wormtail rocked back and forth on his seat, occasionally whimpering. He seemed to be muttering to himself. Harry moved in for a closer look. Once he was about a foot away, he was able to understand vaguely Wormtail's murmuring.
"Alive… he's alive… why did he have to be alive? I never meant too… it was a mistake…"
Harry was perplexed. Who's alive?
"He'll never forgive me… I've been… traitor…"
Is he talking about Dad? Harry wondered. He must be. Harry was incredulous. Was Pettigrew actually regretting his decision to turn traitor against his best friends? He listened more closely.
"…forgive… perhaps he'll forgive me… no, that's impossible… hopeless… he'll hate me… I killed Lily, James will…"
Alright, Harry decided, so Wormtail thinks Dad won't forgive him, and rightly so. Is that why he's hiding out in this abandoned room? He seems almost… frightened. Surely he doesn't think Dad can get at him there?
"If he realizes I took it… but it's to stop Him… I can't let him have it… must stop Him…"
What did that mean? Stop whom from having what? Obviously something that Wormtail stole, but what? Harry frowned in thought, but could not think of anything "He" would want. Who was "He" anyway?
"…if my Lord… no, not my Lord, never my Lord again… I've made too many mistakes… I must pay the consequences…"
Abruptly standing up, all traces of uncertainty gone, Wormtail whispered, "I will pay the consequences. But I won't let the Dark Lord have this. He might already have the other one, and he's already powerful enough as it is. I've got to run… yes, run. Somewhere where He can't find me…"
Wormtail grabbed a large, metallic object previously hidden underneath his chair, which, on closer inspection, turned out to be a shield. From the way he was clutching it, Harry could tell that this shield was obviously what Wormtail was trying to steal and run away with.
The thump of a footstep broke the silence, and Wormtail gave a gasp, clutched the shield tightly, and with a crack, Disapparated from the room.
.:End Dream:.
A thousand miles away, Harry awoke with a start. He could barely contain the thoughts that were threatening to burst from his skull. So Pettigrew was trying to atone for his sins, and therefore stole some shield the Dark Lord apparently wanted, and ran away with it? It didn't make a lot of sense, but his visions had never been wrong before…
Harry then recalled something Wormtail had whispered: "He might already have the other one, and he's already powerful enough as it is." Harry frowned in thought. What "other one"? Was it another shield? Or perhaps something else? And where had Wormtail stolen the shield from in the first place?
Sticking his head out the side of the bed, Harry prepared to shout for Sirius and his father to come. Perhaps they'd be able to answer his questions. Then Harry paused. As much as he loved his father and godfather, did they really need to be bothered with this? They hated Pettigrew, after all, and they may just think Harry had made it up to pacify them or something.
No, Harry decided, I won't tell anyone. Maybe the vision wasn't real. He didn't really believe that, but it was nice to hope. I'll just keep it to myself, unless for some reason I have to tell someone. But not until then.
Now go to bed, he told himself. And with that, he closed his eyes, and immediately drifted off into dreamland.
