Chapter 12: When Dreaming Ends

Harry was at the top of the astronomy tower, frozen and invisible. Before him, Draco was pointing his wand at Dumbledore, failing to find the nerve to kill. Dumbledore was looking around, trying to get his bearings. And he was slipping down the wall. Harry heard a commotion from behind the door, and a horde of death eaters burst through it. Behind them, came Voldemort. Voldemort sneered and pointed his wand at Dumbledore.

"Harry, please" said Dumbledore looking over at Harry, and a flash of green light erupted from Voldemort's wand.

The dream changed. It became clearer and the emotions were stronger, and not his own. Harry was in someone's front yard. He had never been there before and knew his mind hadn't invented it. He recognized the four people around him. Two were blue eyed, auburn haired teens whom he had seen in an old photograph. One was a little girl, whom he had seen in a painting. One was a sandy haired boy…the thief. The three men were yelling at one another, and the girl was crying. Spells started flying though the air. A few seconds later the girl fell to the ground.

"Ariana! Ariana, no!" cried one of the men with blue eyes. He turned to Harry and embraced him, crying on his shoulder.

The surroundings vanished, and Dumbledore looked up from Harry's shoulder. His gaze was real and sentient. It wasn't a figment of Harry's subconscious, nor, Harry knew, was the rest of the dream.

"Why are you here?"

Harry woke with a start, sitting straight up in his bed, looking through his window to the tower across the way. He realized that his auras were stretched out in all directions, exposed, caressing his surroundings. He reeled them in and threw up some occlumency barriers.

He glanced at his watch which read seven-thirty. He dressed in his red silk robes, and headed down for breakfast. He left all of his objects in his tower, feeling that they were safe there, but he added an extra protection just in case. He took only his wand.

He resisted his urge to pop straight down to the great hall, and walked down the long way.

The day went by quickly. He was introduced to the other teachers who arrived, including the care of magical creatures' teacher Professor Kettleburn. Dumbledore ran the entire staff through safety procedures and rules. Harry was pleased to note that "transfiguration is not to be used as a punishment" was not yet one of the rules. Harry sat through an unavoidable explanation of all of the processes with which he was already familiar, like the house point system and the Quidditch Cup and the scheduling and Hogsmeade visits.

Harry sifted through the school's broom closet and used some of his magic to make the brooms safer and more reliable. After he was satisfied with the brooms, he went to his office and continued developing his lesson plans. He had barely any time to have any conversations because the day was spent in frenzied preparation.

Evening fell, and all of the staff sat down for dinner together.

"Today," said Dumbledore, "you have all worked hard to prepare for the arrival of the students. Believe it or not, despite how hard you have all worked, today will feel like a vacation compared with what is to come. Remember that we are all feeling the same strain, and therefore there will always be someone with whom to share a piece of your mind." He glanced at Harry. Harry hoped that Dumbledore was just being friendly, instead of hinting that he knew Harry had been in his dream.

"To a prosperous year!" said Dumbledore raising his glass.

"A prosperous year!" echoed everyone enthusiastically, and dinner began.

Being their last night of freedom, Dumbledore had brought in several bottles of mead and firewiskey and the faculty was making quick work of them. Harry was in an exceptionally upbeat mood, aided by the alcohol in his system. By the end of the main course of the meal, most of the staff was thoroughly tipsy, and by dessert, they were quite sloshed indeed. Some of the older, more solemn professors had already gone to bed, and only Harry, Wister, Slughorn, Dumbledore, Flitwick, Minerva, and Hagrid remained. Hagrid and Flitwick were singing enthusiastically, Flitwick's high voice contrasting with Hagrid's booming bass. McGonagall was red in the face talking to Slughorn, who was flirting shamelessly. Wister was whispering very inappropriate ideas into the ear of Harry, who was glancing around the table hoping no one noticed his blush.

Dumbledore stood up, at last, with surprising grace for someone who had consumed so much alcohol.

"And now," he said, a little too loudly, "It is time for bed. Have dreams of pleasant memories, and pleasant things to come," he frowned, and Harry hoped he hadn't been remembering his joint dream with Harry from the previous night. "I will see you all in the morning. As you know, students will arrive at six tomorrow evening."

Chairs scraped back, and teachers helped each other up. At the entrance hall, they parted ways. Slughorn headed off towards the dungeon. Hagrid went out the front doors. Wister headed off to his basement dorm, looking back wistfully at Harry. Harry took a step up the stairs, and slipped. Strong arms with slender hands caught him from behind and lifted him back to his feet.

"Catching drunken employee: ten points," rumbled the voice behind him. "I'll help you to your tower, Harry," said Dumbledore, "it's on the way to mine, you know."

"I did know," said Harry thickly, "I can see your house out my window." He felt Dumbledore nod behind him.

In a burst of flame that nearly singed Harry's face, Fawkes appeared.

"Yer a little late, Fawkes. I'm fine," said Harry, slurring his words. "You can go back to bed, I'll be up in a seggond." Fawkes chirped, amused, and vanished.

"Up the stairs, then," said Dumbledore, concentrating.

"Mmph," said Harry, his head spinning. He didn't want to walk all the way up to the tower. He turned around, and put his arms around Dumbledore, drawing them closer. He held tightly, closed his eyes, and the two of them reappeared in Harry's tower. Harry's arms lingered around Dumbledore for a moment, and then Harry pulled away.

"Thanks, 'fessor. 'Gnight," mumbled Harry, wordlessly and wandlessly vanishing all of his clothing except for his trousers.

Dumbledore stood in the same spot, looking at Harry. Harry dimly made sure all of the protections on his auras were still in place.

"I can't get out," said Dumbledore.

"What?" asked Harry.

"Your protection spells, Harry."

"Oh," said Harry, and he felt around for his protections. He was too wasted to figure out how to lift them, however. "Can I apparate you?"

"Mmhmm," rumbled Dumbledore.

Harry padded over to him on bare feet. He wrapped his arms around Dumbledore like he had before, pressing his bare torso against Dumbledore's clothed one. "Ready?" he asked. Without hesitation, Dumbledore put his hands around Harry's waist and nodded over Harry's muscled shoulder. Harry closed his eyes, and they reappeared in Dumbledore's chambers.

Harry dimly registered the purple and silver decor. "We have the same bed," said Harry, forgetting to untangle himself from Dumbledore.

"Indeed," said Dumbledore.

"Well, goodnight, then," said Harry, removing his arms from around Dumbledore. Dumbledore let his hands drop from Harry's sides.

"Thank you, Harry. Goodnight."

Harry closed his eyes, and as he was vanishing, he thought he heard Dumbledore say, "And please have pleasant dreams tonight."

Everything around Harry was drunken and blurred. He and the other teachers were dancing feverishly to upbeat music. Hagrid twirled Harry and he spun across the room only to be caught by Wister who ran his hands up and down Harry's sides seductively.

"May I cut in?" asked a deep voice.

Wister glared but faded into the background. Dumbledore stepped into Harry's plane of view. Harry's hand met his, and the music changed to a slower waltz.

"Why am I in your dream, Harry?" asked Dumbledore, leading Harry to step in time with the music.

"This is my dream, then?" asked Harry.

"I find mine are usually sharper, even when I go to bed intoxicated," replied Dumbledore. "Why am I here?" he repeated, as he waltzed.

"I'm sorry," said Harry, trying to formulate his thoughts, "I believe it's our magic. I saw part of your dream last night."

"I gathered as much," replied Dumbledore, lifting Harry easily, turning, and replacing him on the ground. "What you saw was private," he said simply.

The dream filled with guilt and they stopped dancing.

"Albus, I—I knew about that."

"And you know how I die?"

"It won't be what you saw."

"Who are you?" whispered Dumbledore, gazing at Harry intensely.

Unbidden, memories flashed through the dream. He was flying for the first time. He was in the Chamber of Secrets with Fawkes. He was standing in front of the mirror of Eriseid. He was in Dumbledore's memory of Tom Riddle's job interview.

The ribbon of memory broke.

"Who are you?"

Harry was in his bed drenched in sweat. His heart was pounding. His scar was burning. No, that was just a hangover.

The morning sun streamed through his windows as Harry squinted across the room. It was past eleven. He magically took away his hangover and stumbled into the bathroom. He ran himself a cold shower to wake up. He shaved, and combed his hair while going over the dream he'd had. He'd given away a lot, but he wasn't worried. He could trust Dumbledore, and Dumbledore wouldn't confront him about it. He seemed to prefer puzzling things out himself.

Harry dressed in black robes, pocketed his wand, and pulled out the Marauder's Map. He had a suspicion that Dumbledore too had just woken up, and Harry didn't fancy an encounter. Dumbledore was pacing his bedchamber.

Harry pocketed the map and headed down to the kitchens; breakfast was over. He had several platters of breakfast food foisted upon him by the house elves, and he took them all back up to his office.

He sat behind his desk, slowly eating his breakfast—or lunch, as it was now past noon—and contemplating his days to come. When he was finished with his food, he vanished the leftovers and began wandlessly making objects in the office float.

He felt Dumbledore's presence approaching his door, and he didn't have the mental energy to evade a confrontation. He opened the door when Dumbledore was outside. Dumbledore hadn't bothered to raise his hand to knock.

"Good morning, Harry. I trust you slept well?" Dumbledore gave Harry a meaningful glance. "I thought you might want to discuss our duel before the students arrived."

"Yeah," lied Harry, "I did. I was thinking we could duel on the Quidditch pitch? We would be the most visible, I think, and have the most room."

"An excellent idea, Harry. And I have arranged so that the students have the afternoon off tomorrow. I didn't know how long of a demonstration you wanted."

"Brilliant," said Harry. "That gives us some flexibility. Thank you."

Dumbledore selected a lemon drop out of the bowl on Harry's desk. "I see you've arranged your office," he said, popping the lemon drop into his mouth.

"Yeah," said Harry. "What do you think?" Despite the memories of Dumbledore interrogating him in his dream, Harry felt himself relax. It was Dumbledore, the man who was fascinated by all types of light magic. The man who had saved Harry's life time and time again. The man who he had trusted unconditionally in his own time.

"I think you need another chair," said Dumbledore, conjuring one for himself.

"Sorry, sir" said Harry.

"No worries, Harry, but, I wonder, why do you keep calling me sir?"

Harry flinched. So much for relaxing.

"Er, Albus, rather. It won't happen again," said Harry, dodging the question. They fell into an uncomfortable silence. Dumbledore looked up and frowned at the scoreboard.

"Harry, I would like to have a conversation with you over tea."

"Sure, Albus. Whenever you'd like."

"How about today at four? Unless you have a lot of work, but from the looks of it," he looked around at the objects still floating around the room, "I'd simply be taking your mind off of your…anticipation."

Harry swallowed, but put on an amiable smile.

"Sounds perfect," he said, his throat dry.

"Excellent," said Dumbledore, abruptly. "I will see you at four in my office."

He turned on his boot-clad heel and left Harry staring after him.

Harry needed to fly. He summoned his broom to him and it appeared immediately. Harry mounted it, and soared out his office window. He flew high above the forest and circled the campus like a hawk. He left campus and followed the snaking train tracks south. He pushed his broom to its maximum speed, which was somewhere above 300mph. When he started to see small clumps of buildings spread out beneath him, he made himself invisible. Then, beneath him he saw the train winding its way through the countryside and he dove. He dove faster than a freefall and pulled out of it in time to hover a foot above the train then touched down lightly. He shielded himself from the steam coming from the front of the train, and crept to the end of the car. He disapparated and found himself in the train in an empty corridor, still invisible. He looked into the carriage windows, looking wistfully at the students in each one. He apparated to the roof of the last car and sat watching the countryside go by, the wind in his face.

He thought about what he would say to Dumbledore. He didn't know what the conversation would be about, but he didn't want to do anything that would compromise his job before it had even begun. He sat for quite a while in thought, imaging different ways to put Dumbledore at ease without giving himself away. As he thought, Fawkes appeared at his side, humming over the rumble of the train.

"What should I do, Fawkes?" he asked the bird.

From within Fawkes, Harry felt a burst of emotion, leaping, swelling up inside him and making him gasp. And then he was cut off from the emotion again as Fawkes locked away his soul. Harry sighed, frustrated and confused.

"You speak a nice language," said Harry. "I wish I understood it." Fawkes whistled solemnly, and took off.

"Time to go," said Harry, looking at his watch, and he took off after Fawkes.

They flew back to Hogwarts together in the afternoon sun. Harry was surprised that Fawkes could keep pace with the Lightning broom.

Harry and Fawkes arrived back at Hogwarts with ten minutes to spare until Harry's tea with Dumbledore. Harry made himself visible once more, and stowed his broom. He climbed the stairs to the Headmaster's office and chambers and told the gargoyles "phoenix." As he rode the spiral escalator, his stomach churned into knots. Fawkes kneaded Harry's shoulder reassuringly with his talons. He arrived at the top of the stairs and knocked on the heavy door.

"Come in, Harry," said Dumbledore from within.

Harry entered the room. Dumbledore had set up a low table by a window upon which was a tea set and biscuits. Dumbledore was standing behind his desk. If Harry hadn't known Dumbledore as well, he wouldn't have noticed that his eyes were moving a little more quickly than usual, but he did notice. Dumbledore was nervous. Or excited.

"Please, Harry, sit down," he said, motioning to one of the chairs.

Harry strode over to the chair by the window, glancing over his shoulder at Dumbledore who followed him to the table and took his own chair.

When they were both seated, Dumbledore poured Harry a cup of tea, and then poured his own cup. Harry trusted the Dumbledore in the future implicitly, but a tiny seed of doubt let his bowling ball aura reach out and test the tea for any truth potions or other unwanted additives. There were none. Harry felt a little guilty for his unjustified paranoia.

"Harry, I admit that I asked you here today because I am very curious about you. I saw you as a puzzle, but I became too impatient to put the puzzle together myself when I started seeing more of the pieces. I knew when I first dueled you that you are a very powerful wizard. In fact, I have never met another wizard who could intentionally cast spells wandlessly—oh, yes, I knew about that—, and I don't think I've yet seen the full extent of your powers.

"You said that you were not educated at Hogwarts, but you know the castle well already. You have a phoenix as a companion, and stock sweets that you don't eat. You pulled me into your dream, and broke into mine. You claim to have seen both my past and my future, and you know how I die, but I know nothing about you but what I see before me."

Dumbledore looked at Harry with a mixture of curiosity, awe, and frustration. Harry didn't know what to say. After his afternoon of flight and contemplation, he still didn't have an answer.

And he didn't have an opportunity to come up with one.

He sat in his chair, letting the silence to linger, but Fawkes had snaked his long neck up Harry's sleeve and grabbed his wand. He flew out of Harry's grasp, and onto the lap of Dumbledore, to whom he offered the wand. Before Harry could protest, Dumbledore took the wand from Fawkes's beak, letting his other hand rest on Fawkes's back.

Upon Dumbledore's contact with the wand and bird, both auras flared around uncontrollably, causing Harry's and Dumbledore's eyes to flutter shut. Harry was looking out from his wand and he was out of control. He was all magic, and all of that magic was bare for Dumbledore to see. He could feel Dumbledore trying to understand Harry and what was happening. Harry had no choice but to entrust the secret of his magic to the other wizard in the room. Then, Harry was Fawkes, out of control. He was wild and his vision was in bright colors, and he was showing Dumbledore's aura this part of himself. He was showing him this blinding emotion, laying it out for the foreign presence to see, and he felt enraptured awe push back.

A/N: I had fun writing this chapter. I hope you liked reading it. My beta reader's date says she told him she thinks I'm coming to the end of the story. LOL. Good one. Nah, I've got too many puns I still haven't worked in!