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Chapter 8

The Dementor's Ball

Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns these loverly boys and girls. I weep as I bow to her throne.

AN: I just noticed how much I've let this story move from my plot! Argh! This chapter will get back to it, and pretty quick, too. Please bear in mind that I'm a blond (and no, none of the characters in this story are really me in disguise) and I get sidetracked easily. (Very easy if it involves a lot of chocolate and the chocolate pie my mother made is particularly tempting.) ^_^

More information on dreams – especially the ones that Harry seems to have when they're not about Voldemort – comes to light.

Thanks to everybody that reviewed! Ah, what good reviews do to a depressed ego. ^^;

******

  Harry sat up, disoriented. Sleepy green eyes blinked in confusion for a brief moment before the realization that it had just been a dream swept over him. He reached over for his glasses and couldn't believe how tired he felt, even after sleeping for close to nine hours.

  He looked over and found Ron still fast asleep. A smile crept over his face as he saw his best friend hanging over the side of his bed in an awkward position. Every time they played Quidditch he ended up like that, and the more competitive game - usually against Slytherin - the more he ended up actually falling out of bed.

  Eyes blinking sleepily, he rose and walked to the window and looked across the sweeping lawn in front of him. The winter-dead grass blew in the strong wind as the trees waved their lifeless limbs in great swaying sweeps. A chill like last night once again ran down his spine, but was stronger than the others. His talk with Raymund came back to him.

  "Dreams can be interpreted either as literal scenes or symbolic. It is up to the dreamer to decide which it truly is, for it is their thoughts, and they must be the ones to know what the dream means." He turned to Draco first. "You have seen a lot of dreams concerning your family." The blond nodded cautiously. "Most dreams of the family really aren't about your blood family, but more of what would be called an emotional one. Each member of that family has a certain role to play, but you are not sure what yours is, right?"

  Draco nodded again.

  "This is probably what your dreams are trying to tell you - that you must make a decision in your life that will change your entire future. And, since Aeryn woke up something inside of you when you went shadowwalking, that must come into play." Raymund sighed. "Such a thing in not an easy burden, and I wish I could delve more deeply into this but I have to go back to school."

  All of them had looked up at that. Raymund gave them a smile worthy of his sister. "I am in my last year of school, just as you are," he said in his somber voice. "But when the time comes I will be here to fight."

  Hermione spoke up. "When the time comes to fight? How...?"

  "Dreams can be good indications of the future, but even I cannot interpret all that I have," Raymund said. "They are funny things, and chances that would never come to pass in reality play a large part in the dream world. Even I don't fully understand it, and I've been studying it since I was eight."

  "Eight?" Ron asked.

  Raymund nodded and gave his sister a quick look. Aeryn smiled encouragingly back at him. "That is when people in my tribe start studying. I also had the heritage from my father to deal with."

  "Ray," Aeryn said in a soft voice.

  Raymund shook his head. "Anyway, I have half a year left of school, then I will probably join Dad and Aeryn at La Incendio Montagna to teach."

  Harry laughed when Aeryn snorted. "And you would teach 'goofing off?'"

  "Well," Raymund went on to say, "I thought that was what you were going off to teach, but I think you're now married to your cauldron."

  "Very funny, Ray. What about Harry's dreams? And why did the walk I bring them back from wake up 'something?'"

  "From what I've learned, each person has their own way of seeing things. In your case, Aeryn, you can actually walk in the shadows of others. But then you and Aedyn are special cases because you can share each other's gift."

  "How?" Hermione looked startled at this.

  "Because of the two of us being twins," Aeryn stated. "He is not a shadowwalker, but he can.... Hm. I'm not sure how to describe it, but it's like he can see - literally see - spells, invisible objects, that nobody else would even have thought to look for." She stopped for a moment, but then continued, "but what I don't understand is how these 'gifts' can suddenly waken."

  Harry then looked at all the others. "I learned that my mother had the ability to see beyond facades," he said in a soft voice. "Soon after she left school, I think it was."

  Ron looked surprised, Draco intrigued, and the others thoughtful.

  "And I feel that when I dream I can see straight into a person's thoughts and feelings."

  "Almost like they are mentally naked, right?" Aeryn slowly asked.

  Harry nodded.

  "Hm." Hermione had been silently taking in all the information. "From what I gather, each person has a gift. And in some cases that gift can be wakened at a certain point in their lives, or essentially forced to the surface. Like when you went on the shadowwalk."

  Harry and Draco both nodded.

  "Then maybe these dreams are like an interim step - a sort of middle ground - before you can use them consciously."

  Raymund agreed. "That's what it sounds like to me."

  "'Mornin'" Ron's sleepy voice pulled him from his memories.

  Harry turned and gave him a bright smile. "Good morning!"

  "You're bright and chipper this morning," the red head complained as he dragged himself fully into his bed.

  "Nah." Harry gave an impish smile at his friend. "You're just grumpy, that's all."

  "Wha?" A pair of blue eyes squinted at him.

  "Go back to sleep, then," Harry told Ron. "I don't think you're quite ready to wake up."

  "Sure, yeah," Ron said in a muffled voice as he burrowed his head into his pillow.

  Harry watched him for a couple of minutes before getting dressed. Somehow he knew that Hermione wasn't up yet, but he wanted to talk to somebody. So, he would have to look around the castle.

  Slowly he made his way down, not paying any attention to where he was going.

  "What are you doing here, Potter?"

  He looked up to find Snape practically standing on top of him.

  "I - "

  "Spit it out, Potter."

  Harry was silent, trying to come up with something to say. He looked at the Potions teacher for a moment as the older man narrowed black eyes. Opening his mouth, he stopped when blinding pain ripped through his head, centering in his scar. He blinked a couple of times, trying to focus on the blur Snape had become.

  "Potter..."

  He heard Snape's voice coming through what seemed a long tunnel before he plunged into blackness.

******

  Snape clutched his left arm, almost in sympathy. The pain wasn't as bad as it usually was, though lately it had grown worse. Still, there had been a sharp moment of pain as he had watched Potter fall to the floor in a crumpled heap this morning. After that it was a blur until half an hour ago, when Madam Pomfrey had assured all those gathered that he was resting comfortably and she didn't want anybody to disturb him.

  The Dark Mark wasn't glowing as bright as it did when Voldemort called his followers, but it was only a matter of time when he would be called to a meeting. It had been a while since a full one had been called, in fact the night before Halloween. That had been strange, since the Dark lord had fallen on such a date, and indeed seemed to ignore it altogether.

  Shoving these thoughts to the side for a while, he nodded when Dumbledore spoke quietly before heading down to the dungeons. This called for some work.

******

  "Wormtail."

  Harry knew that voice. It had been haunting him for four years now. He just wondered what Voldemort was up to now.

  "You are finished with the preparations for the traitor?"

  Harry finally was able to focus on the scene and what he saw frankly terrified him. In front of Voldemort lay a wide spread of various torture devices, ranging from the strangely - and morbidly - incredible, to medieval Muggle. A shudder ran through him when he realized this was meant for somebody.

  "No... no, M-master," Wormtail stuttered, bringing Harry's eyes back from the devices that were scattered around the room. The silver-handed man was kneeling in front of Voldemort, his right hand giving off a dim light all of its own, competing with the faint candlelight. "I - "

  Voldemort laughed. "What is your excuse this time?" His voice was very low now, and Harry knew it was only a matter of time before he used the Cruciatus Curse on Wormtail. Voldemort lifted his wand and pointed it at the cowering man in front of him. "I do not want an excuse, I want results! Crucio!"

  Harry felt the pain of the curse, even though it wasn't directed at him. Hot fire coursed through his body as every nerve ending seemed to be trying to jump out of his body to get away from the intense pain. A small part of his brain was telling him that this was much longer than the curse Voldemort had used on him fourth year, but the rest of it was crying in agony.

  Suddenly the curse stopped as Voldemort gave a short, cold laugh. "Now, Wormtail... are you finished with the task I have given you?"

  The man laying on the floor just panted for a couple of seconds before pushing himself a few inches off of it. "We are just w-waiting for him to come."

  "Ah, yes. The traitor." Voldemort's red eyes grew brighter as they narrowed. "He is a clever one, clever enough to hide from me the fact that he has betrayed me several times." He laughed again, in the same cold manner. Harry shivered at the chilling sound. "I only wish that I could see the look on old Bumbly's face when we get through with my 'faithful' servant. Soon his servant will return."

  The laughter stopped when someone entered the room. Harry felt the chill flow through the air. 'Dementors,' he thought.

  The tall, hooded figure stepped into the room. Voldemort's face flashed with a grim smile. "I see you are ready to take your places."

  Harry tried to see more but the chill from the Dementor finally got to him and he descended back into the darkness.

******

  Harry woke up; eyes wide open in the dim light of the room. The long shadows on the floor indicated that it was late in the day. He didn't remember falling asleep, and yet... Memory came back to him with the force of a sledgehammer.

  Hurrying to put his glasses on, he looked around the infirmary wildly. Not a soul to be seen, though he could hear movement in Madam Pomfrey's office. Panic raced through him as he thought of what he had dreamed about. Voldemort was near, and he knew something was going on. Harry wasn't exactly sure, but it was enough to make Voldemort very angry.

  Suddenly sure of what he must do, he hurried out of bed. Quietly, he quickly dressed and slipped out of the infirmary and into the hallway. Steadily making his way towards the dungeons, he stopped with the realization that he should talk to Dumbledore first.

  "Harry?" Aeryn's tired voice startled him. He could hear concern in her voice. "Are you all right?"

  He turned and found her making her way towards him, both arms filled with books. "Would you take me to Professor Dumbledore's office?"

  She gave him a quizzical look but nodded. "Sure."

  Harry felt her eyes on him, and just as it was starting to irritate him, she said, "are you sure you're all right?"

  He gave her a reassuring glance when he saw the worry etched on her face. Nodding, he said, "I have to speak to him. Then I'll be okay."

  She correctly interpreted that as the sign to continue, and two minutes later they were standing in front of Dumbledore's office. "Chunky Monkey," she muttered. Harry heard a faint trace of laughter in her voice as the gargoyle slowly moved, allowing entry. "I still can't believe he used that," she mumbled.

  As soon as both of them were inside they looked around. Dumbledore wasn't here.

  "Granddad?"

  "Professor Dumbledore?"

  Harry and Aeryn looked at each other in puzzlement.

  "Weird. He was just here half an hour ago," Aeryn said as she peeked through the door into the Headmaster's private chambers. She paused for a moment and then looked back at Harry. "Come in. We can wait for him in here."

  He hesitated only for a brief moment before following her. On the other side of the door he stopped as he was hit by a whirlwind of fur.

  "Circe," he heard Aeryn chide behind the mask of fur. "Let him at least get in the door!"

  Harry laughed. "It's all right, Aeryn."

  "Good."

  Fifteen minutes later and Dumbledore still hadn't shown up. By now Harry was getting concerned and he hoped he wouldn't forget anything from his dream. Maybe he should have gone and talked to Snape about it. After all, the dream had been about him. He looked up to see Circe sitting on his lap, her tail twitching as she leaned over and snuffled at him.

  "She's worried about you," Aeryn said as she came in from a room farther back in the castle. "So am I. What's going on, Harry?"

  He saw that she was looking at him with worried eyes - so much like Dumbledore's. Still, he wanted to speak to the Headmaster first about his dream. "I can't...."

  "I understand." She sat down in the chair opposite him. Aeryn looked at the door again before glancing at Harry. "Maybe he'll be here soon."

  Harry shrugged his shoulders, but he couldn't keep a nonchalant look on his face. Instead, he watched as she pulled out the small potions book she had gotten from Snape and started to read it. Even after seven years he still didn't know what could be so fascinating about potions. Some of that might come from the fact that Snape hated him, and that some little part of him resented that and took the shape of hating the class. Thinking about it, he knew that it had to be a *big* part of him that did that. Even now he could remember the hateful voice of his first day of potions at Hogwarts.

  "What's so interesting about that book?" Harry heard himself ask.

  Aeryn's head shot up and he could see that she was startled. "What?"

  Harry leaned forward and pointed at the book. "Why are you reading that again?"

  She sighed and looked at the fire for a moment. "Because its one of the few things I can do without blowing something up or totally screwing things up."

  He looked startled and felt confused. "Blowing up... what?"

  "Anything if it involves using my wand and I think too hard about what the outcome is supposed to be," she chuckled derisively. "You don't need a lot of magic to brew a potion, basically just skill and knowledge."

  "Oh," Harry replied. Now that he had heard this, it made sense that he had never seen her with a wand. All the other teachers he'd had carried theirs around, but for Snape. "Ray said you were married to your cauldron."

  Aeryn muttered under her breath, "I'm going to hex him the next time I see him for that."

  Harry laughed. "So why don't you ever use your wand? I mean..."

  "Harry, do you use your wand all the time?" she suddenly asked.

  He sat back, shaking his head. "No."

  "Good. I do think that Granddad should teach you some things that involved wandless magic."

  "I know some, since I seemed to get the hang of it in fifth year."

  Aeryn looked up. "When you turned fifteen?"

  Harry nodded. "That is also when Professor Dumbledore told me about my heritage."

  "Good." She gave a quick smile. "You don't have to elaborate. Fifteen is the first stage of a wizard or witch's growth." Aeryn set the book down and leaned forward in her seat. "How about something a little different, then?"

  "Like what?" he asked, intrigued by the suggestion.

  She thought for a couple of seconds. "Probably some of the charms that you learned in your first year and saying them without using the incantation, little things like that. It's just a lot harder to do without a sound than with it, either with your wand or without."

  "That would be a wise idea, Aeryn." Both of them looked to find Professor Dumbledore standing in the doorway, a smile on his face, but not a twinkle to be seen. He nodded at them in greeting before coming to sit next to Harry on the small sofa. "You should get started on that."

  "But, I have to go back to teach," she interjected. "In fact, I should start packing now."

  Dumbledore shook his head. "You should stay here, Aeryn. They are looking for you now."

  Harry stared at the Headmaster before turning to see a stunned look on Aeryn's face.

  "What - ? Who's looking for me?"

  "The Dementors," Dumbledore said, gravely. "When you took Harry to Azkaban, they could feel you. I don't know if they've told Voldemort or not about you, but you will be safest here."

  "But, Dad..."

  Dumbledore cut her off. "He will be going back. You are staying here."

  She slumped in her seat and was quiet.

  "Harry, were you looking for me?" Dumbledore asked as he turned his attention to his student.

  Harry nodded. "I had another dream in the infirmary. About Professor Snape..." he drifted off, unsure of how to phrase what he had seen.

  "What about him, Harry?"

  "I don't think he should go to the next meeting with Voldemort," Harry finally said in a slow voice. "I think that he knows Professor Snape is on our side."

  The only sound heard in the room after this statement was the crackle and pop from the burning wood in the fireplace.

******

  Draco shivered as he watched the carriages arrive from Hogsmeade. The students who had left for the holiday were returning, but he didn't want to talk to any of them. Especially his housemates. By now, those whose fathers were Death Eaters knew that Lucius was captured, and he would bear the brunt of their suspicion. Plus, he now had to add in the fact that he was going to be openly acknowledging Po - Harry and his friends.

  He suddenly wanted to scream as frustration about the entire situation rose inside of him. Draco hadn't asked for any of this, in fact had been waiting for the moment when he was legally able to get away from his father. The only thing that had given him strength in the last three years was that Voldemort hadn't made him get the Dark Mark. He knew this only because his father had been complaining - volubly - that he couldn't introduce his son as a fellow Death Eater because Dumbledore would sense it. The Mark was notorious among the Death Eaters to react when a fellow member was near, causing them both to send off a kind of magic tracer.

  Hmm, he wondered why he had thought of that.

  He thought back to the dreams he'd had the night before. It was an old one, one he'd had for a while. Now, though, he knew that it had been real. The first time the dream had come, Draco had been fourteen. Three years ago. He had thought it was due to trauma from when Moody turned him into.... He shivered at that thought.

  In his dream, the Dark Mark had appeared over a seemingly, perfectly ordinary house. As he slipped towards it in his dream, Draco had found it was just a heap of singed timbers and melted glass. But the extraordinary thing about it was that he heard a soft cry in the background - almost like that of a child. Draco couldn't tell how old the child was, only that they were young.

  This time, when he'd had the dream, he was able to go further into the house. He had seen the lines the house had been built along. The ghostly image of the house as it had been springing up around as it lay in ruins had been eerily striking. A cold wind had been blowing through the deserted yard, silent but for the crying child. Draco had turned to look for it when the wind disappeared, only to be replaced by a strangely hot gust. Suddenly he found he couldn't breath in the arid desert the house had become. Evil had seemed to swarm all around him, leaving him unable to defend himself against it.

  Even as he stood in the desert, surrounded by shadows, he could still hear the child crying. The voice gave him power to fight, a power he hadn't known he held. His dream self was able to fight and, breaking free of the shadows, appeared at the edge of a lake.

  At this point, Draco had usually woken up. Last night, however, he had almost forced himself to go even further.

  The lake was on fire, a purple flame rising high into a night sky that held no stars. On the far shore stood three people and they seemed to be calling him towards them. As he drew nearer, he could see that it was a small child, a woman, and a man, but he couldn't quite tell who they were. Twenty feet from him, he noticed that the child was very young and was crying - the same crying he had always heard. Still, because of the shadows from the bright flames, he couldn't see their faces while they were slightly turned away from him. Taking one more step he found he couldn't move as the woman looked directly at him. Bright green eyes seemed to look deep in his soul.

  Draco was frozen in place. He had seen her before, but where. Then, the man turned and he knew why. These were Harry's parents, and Harry himself. But why this age? He looked at them, not sure why he was having this dream at all when the flames behind him went out, drawing his attention to the lake. Turning, he found he was no longer beside a lake, but at the house again.

  As he had stepped through a door he had woken up, sweating profusely, breathing erratic. Draco didn't know what to make of this dream. He had poured over all the books he had gotten from the library, but they hadn't offered much help. Why would he dream of Harry's family? And the house?

  Shaking his head, he looked out the window and saw that the steam from the train as it pulled out of the station. His time for being who he truly could be was up for the moment. Gamely putting on a mask he no longer wished to wear, he headed down to the dungeons that held Slytherin House.

  He was halfway down there when something made him stop. It felt as if somebody had left a door wide open, but there was no outside access in this corridor. Something was terribly wrong here, and Draco didn't want to stay to find out. Rushing down the next hallway, he rounded the corner and crashed into somebody.

  "Malfoy? What are you doing here?"

  A sigh escaped him as he saw Professors Steele and McGonagall standing in front of him.

  "So... something's wrong down there," he said, pointing in the direction he had come from.

  Professor McGonagall nodded. "You two stay here."

  Five minutes later she was back, white as a sheet. "Ella, take Malfoy up to Professor Dumbledore's office. Now."

  "Minerva? What's happening?" Professor Steele asked.

  "Dementors."

AN: Sorry about the 'Chunky Monkey.' It's my favorite Ben and Jerry's Ice Cream flavor. Yum... banana ice cream with chocolate and walnuts! I think its time I took a trip to the store. ^_^