Chapter 5: Dreamy Night
"Rook, left seven." The ebony marble carving slid across the board. "Ron, it's your turn." Harry's opponent had been preoccupied all evening, staring out the rain-streaked window, chewing a piece of gum with his mouth hanging open, and ignoring strategy on the chessboard.
"Oh, um… king, right one."
"Check."
"Oh…crap. Uh…uh…uh…" His face turned beet red and Harry turned to see at what he was staring. A.M. had just come through the doorway, deep in conversation with Neville Longbottom. Neville was about the same color as Ron, only with slight hint of purple.
"She dissed me for… Longbottom?" Ron asked incredulously.
However, once she noticed Harry and Ron she traipsed over. "Move the Queen up two. It'll protect the King," she instructed Ron with a smile. She pointed at the pieces as she spoke, but was staring into Harry's eyes.
"Thanks," Ron answered. He seemed confused at her lack of interest, but instead opted for the angry approach. "Enjoy your night with Neville?" he asked her hotly.
"Well, I was actually talking to Dumbledore. Neville was in the hall and we walked back together. But he is very nice. I had a good time."
"Herumph." Ron hunched over and examined the board, trying to keep his eyes off the blond.
"If you'd like, we can go ahead and study. I mean, I'm not doing anything."
Harry frowned. "Well, we're playing wizard chess right now, but-"
"Hold on." Ron studied the board. "Bishop diagonal four. Checkmate." He grabbed his tie in one hand, which he had thrown over the back of the chair, and A.M. with the other and headed upstairs.
"Ron!" Harry shouted after him. He couldn't believe A.M.'s audacity. She acted so nice, but she was selfish and uncaring. And she was just using Ron for… well, Harry didn't know, but she was using him. He couldn't stand her. "Backstabber," he mumbled.
"What was that?" Hermione asked, looking up from Magical Maladies of the 17th Century.
"Nothing, nothing." Hermione seemed to like A.M., so he felt the less he said about her, the better.
"Where'd Ron go?"
"Upstairs. With A.M."
She stiffened. "Oh, well… good. It's time he finally found a girl." He saw that her mouth was twitching. He pointed to his own lips, and she quickly put her hand over the nervous muscle. "Yeah, accidentally hit myself with a jitterus charm. Hopefully it will wear off soon." She returned to the fat book, hiding her face behind it. "How come you didn't ask her to study?"
"Because I'm not interested."
"Well, Cho already has a boyfriend. Some kid in Ravenclaw. I didn't recognize his name." She cringed at the look Harry shot her. "I was just telling you," she said defensively. "Somebody had to."
"Good. I'm not interested in Cho either."
"So who are you mooning over?"
"If I wanted you to know who my crush was, I would tell you. If you would stop messing around and tell me who you liked, I would tell you mine." He ignored the fact his brain was quickly searching for a name to give as a cover-up, in case Hermione relinquished the information.
"A girl needs her secrets."
Harry huffed, and tugged a small piece of her hair. "Fine, but don't ask me any more questions about my love life."
"So it's a love life now, not a crush?"
"You are impossible!" He walked up the stairs noisily, clomping so that Hermione could hear him take each and every one. A.M. and Ron were hunched over their studies, not snogging as Harry had expected. "I'm going to bed!" he shouted. "Go downstairs and study."
"Sorry, man, I didn't know we were such a bother. Let's go downstairs," he told A.M. harshly.
"Okay, I'll be right down."
"Whatever." As he passed Harry's bed he gave him a rude gesture. "I was making my move," he hissed, then slammed the door.
"Ron's certainly seems to have gotten over his shyness," he told A.M.
"He just needed a little confidence booster. I think once he saw how bad I was at magic, he felt a lot more comfortable around me." She giggled. "Most people do. Besides, once you've talked like a girl in front of someone, not much can embarrass you anymore." She was picking up trinkets and gadgets on the desk, examining them.
"Don't touch my stuff."
She almost dropped his sneakoscope, she was so startled. "Sorry."
"What do you want, A.M.? I'd like to go to sleep."
"I'm… I'm sorry I did anything to upset you today." Her forehead bunched into cute little creases. "I think you're a really great guy. I wasn't trying to make things worse for you, or make you mad, or anything like that."
"That's fine. Just leave."
"Okay. Goodnight Harry." She leaned over him, lips puckered. 'Oh God, she's going to kiss me.' He wanted to feel her mouth on his, but he was disgusted by this powerful need, and he feared Ron was outside the door, listening.
"Ron's waiting for you," he grumbled, pushing her away.
Her face scrunched, as if she was about to cry, but she quickly regained her composure and walked out. The room seemed colder without her presence, but Harry, too frustrated and angry to notice, simply pulled the covers tighter around him. He drifted off quickly, and that's when he had the dream.
The girl in the cloak came silently though the door, dressed in a filmy, floor-length nightgown. It shimmered in the moonlight, as did her skin and eyes. She walked to his bed and leaned over him. Smiling, she moved forward until she was only inches from him. Her breath tickled his forehead and moved a few of his stray hairs. He knew he could not move or open his eyes, or she would disappear. He wasn't sure how he could see the unfolding events, but he could.
When their lips met, it was as if an arc of electricity had joined them. Sparks flew and they were connected, mouth-to-mouth. His heart was fluttering and dizziness threatened to overcome him. But as soon as it had begun, she pulled away and quickly tiptoed out the door.
The sound of the latch closing woke Harry. Power was surging through his body and he couldn't believe that it was only a dream. When he touched his lips and drew them away, his fingertips were glowing with luminescence. Was it only a dream?
***
"Did you hear?" Hermione asked, breathless from running to catch up with him in the hall.
"I guess not. At least, nothing worth running through this hall." Harry pointed to the roiling crowd of students behind them, desperate to get to their next classes on time.
"Are you still getting the Daily Prophet?"
"No, I canceled my subscription last year, remember?"
"Oh, that's right," she replied, considering his quibbles with the journal. She unfolded the paper, revealing a black-and-white still photo of an attractive blond teen. The article title read Muggle Murder Leaves both Scotland Yard and Ministry Baffled. "Harry," she whispered, "they think it was Voldemort."
Several passing students scowled, but did not say anything about the use of the name. "Mind if I read it?" he asked, taking the newspaper from her before she responded.
The death of Linda Primrose has Scotland Yard in a bind, the Daily Prophet reports. The youngest daughter of Lord Primrose of Cornwall was last seen alive three weeks ago, when she met several friends at a club. These friends claim she disappeared in the large crowd, and deny knowing any other information. The Lord, threatening to scandalize the Police force with a lawsuit, has been up in arms since his daughter went missing.
However, his anger turned to anguish when, last night, Miss Primrose's body washed up on the bank of the Thames River, slightly south of London. While badly decomposed, it's obvious the girl died of a severe cut from the throat down the sternum, opening the ribcage. Even stranger, after careful examination, it was found that her heart was missing. "Whoever killed this girl obviously did it specifically to steal this organ. She shows no other signs of harm."
The Ministry cautions that, while they are not sure, they feel this could be the work of You-Know-Who. "The girl died of the Avada Kedavra curse long before she was ever physically touched. Also, while Scotland Yard passed it off as a tattoo, the Dark Mark was found burned into her upper-left shoulder. All readers of the Daily Prophet should be on the lookout, and know where their children are at all times. Until the culprit is caught, everyone is at risk.
"That is sick! Cut out her heart?!" Harry exclaimed.
"I don't know what Voldemort is up to, but I'm worried."
He looked up and down the corridor and saw the crowd was thinning drastically: a sure sign class would start any minute. "We'll talk about this later?"
"Yeah, I'll see you in Transfiguration." But by the time his first class ended, Harry had forgotten all about the ghastly article.
***
"Sometimes you need a book to stay open at a certain spot, or even turn pages for you," the tiny Charms teacher, Professor Flitwick explained. "While you can buy books that open and close, it's very helpful to charm books to do that themselves. First you cast Wingardium Leviosa, which will float the book above the table." He flicked his wand and the book soon hovered about a foot above his desk. "Now you cast the newest charm: Likota Fingersa. Make sure you flick, flick, point." He demonstrated the complicated wand movements in slow motion. He then finished the spell. "You can announce a page number, or just say 'next' or 'back' page to go forward or back one page. Now all of you try."
Harry, head resting on his hand, groaned. "Could he have picked a more boring spell?"
"I think it will be helpful," Neville told him. "You can cast this on your textbook and, even if you fall asleep, it will look like you're paying attention."
"Cool," he answered emptily. After his dream, Harry had not slept a moment. His mind was racing. If the reverie was real, it proved that the girl not only remained at Hogwarts, but also felt the same way as he did. If it wasn't a dream… Harry didn't want to assume it was untrue.
He also couldn't stop thinking about his almost-kiss with A.M. She was warm as the summer sun, and certainly would be pleasant to cuddle up to. And her lips were soft and moist and oh-so-inviting. But Ron was certainly attracted to her and to show interest would go against any intuition he'd ever had. So instead he sulked as everyone worked on Charms.
"Harry," Professor Flitwick called, rapping his wand on the cypress tabletop. "We are practicing the spell now."
"Oh, right," he replied disinterestedly. The room, despite the open windows and folding fans enchanted to wave on full speed, was hotter than an oven, making it difficult to do anything but daydream. "Ron? Borrow your book? I forgot mine."
"You forgot your books this morning, too. What's up with you?"
"Just let me borrow a book."
Ron rummaged through his shoddy, torn bag, remnant of both Percy's and Bill's years at Hogwarts, and pulled out History of Magical England 1750 – 1980. "I'm using my Charms, but you can work on the History book." He gave Harry a severe look. "I'm studying that with A.M. again tonight, so don't lose it."
"I'm not Neville, you know."
"Hey!" Neville sputtered, but was quickly smacked by his apparently impatient text. "All right, all right," he reassured, stroking its spine. He glared at Harry, but returned to the classwork.
"Wingardium Leviosa," he recited and the book levitated off the desk. He then started the next step. "Likota Fingersa." Nothing. "Likota Fingersa," he tried again. History of Magical England 1750 – 1980 remained still on the desk. Harry's frustration, mixed with a lack of sleep finally boiled over. "LIKOTA FINGERSA!" he shouted and the book shot across the room, where it hit and slid down the wall, then began flipping through pages madly. Students looked nervously from the erratic text to the flushed boy.
Harry yelled "Stop!" and, much to his surprise, it did.
"Harry," Ron moaned. "You promised you'd be careful."
But Harry, who had walked over to retrieve the book, was too entranced by what he saw on the page where it had ended its tantrum to hear Ron's complaints. His heart had dropped and not a breath left his body. Time stood still as he gaped, open mouthed, at the History text. While one side contained boring information about a colony for squibs in Africa, the other had a grainy, monochrome picture. The well-dressed lady in the photo, who was winking and smiling coquettishly, looked exactly like the mystery girl.