The title for chapter twenty-six is from…Annie. Congrats to Dark-Angel-874, Firstlady1408, Yank2324, Easterly Winds, and maureen is me.

As requested by…well…everyone…here is the chapter before I go to Yellowstone. Enjoy! 'Tis a slightly happier chapter, in preparation for the angst to come.

Chapter 27: I Dreamed a Dream

"Alright," Elphaba placed the Grimmerie on the table separating herself from Harry. "Look." She pointed with a bony finger. "This is the spell. It's broken up clearly into two sections."

"Which part am I supposed to read?" Harry pulled the antique book onto his lap and squinted at the ancient text through his spectacles.

"This part." Elphaba scrolled her finger down the right column of handwriting. "Your part is to provide the center energies behind the spell. I'm going to ground you and then control and direct the power, supplying additional power should it be required."

The Dueling classroom was well lit with the drapery pulled back, where Elphaba and Harry were hiding out to discuss their strategy against Voldemort. They'd spent a considerable amount of time, crumpled parchments and other books littering the desk and floor surrounding them.

Harry shot a doubtful look in Elphaba's direction, who returned it with a glare. "Are you positive you'll be alright doing this? I mean, has Pomphrey even approved you of complete treatment?"

Elphaba scowled, as though chewing something sour. Everyone was so intent on her well-being as of late, if not more so than when she was bedridden. There didn't seem to be room for privacy between Glinda's persistent queries before breakfast, her students in class, Dumbledore moseying over to her during lunch, Fiyero badgering her in the afternoon, Pomphrey prodding at her in the evening, and Glinda smothering her again before bed.

The majority of her wounds were completely healed, and her ribs would only rattle discomfortingly once or twice a day. She predicted that to be a permanent upset and accepted it as another incentive to end the war.

"I am fine, Harry. Everyone asks and I tell them all day long, so please do me a favor and hush about it." The green witch sighed in exasperation and rubbed her forehead.

"Just to make sure, Fae, I'm checking with Pomphrey later," Harry decided aloud, announcing it as though nothing Elphaba could mention would deter him. "We need to know for sure how well you'll be able to fair during the spell, if you can do it at all."

"If you're going to check with her, we might as well cancel any strategies that involve me," Elphaba groaned. She was refraining from a shower of insults, angry that Harry would question her abilities. She was a human being, but the green witch was also a powerful one, and she felt more than capable of pronouncing a few terms correctly. "There is no way she would allow us to perform a life threatening spell. She'd kill us before she let us kill ourselves."

"Touché," Harry said, drumming his fingers along the brittle bindings of the Grimmerie. "Then I won't tell her the implications of the spell so much as the pressure exerted upon her favorite patient."

Elphaba gave Harry a sudden, sizing look, inhaling sharply as though internally deciding something. "You won't be discouraged from this, will you?" Harry shook his head earnestly, and Elphaba bit the inside of her cheek to prevent a curse from spilling out. "Harry, I am twenty-six years old and capable of looking after myself. I've spent all that time trying to ensure that."

"Of course you are." Harry rolled his eyes snidely. "That would explain the obscene amounts of time that you spend in the Hospital Wing. You know, you've pretty much beaten my record by a few admissions. Perhaps they should set up a permanent bed for you there, when you're feeling like expressing just how self-sufficient you are."

Elphaba elbowed Harry in the side without an expression, crossing her legs and whacking the ancient book roughly. "Back to work!" she hissed through gritted teeth, which resulted in a nasty look from the Boy-Who-lived.

"Okay, okay," Harry muttered as he rubbed his side and adjusted his spectacles to get a better look at the pages before him. "You wicked witch."

He didn't notice Elphaba flinch at the title. It was a completely innocent jest, but the green woman began to hear an echo of ignorant, enraged witch hunters screaming for her blood. She was a more than a little unnerved to feel hurt by at after all, but shook it off to focus on their task once more.

"Should we practice this?" Harry asked, indicating the spell.

"Not together," Elphaba warned. "I know by experience that a full-blown practice could have negative results. Try your part little by little."

"Good point," Harry nodded. He took a deep breath and grasped the edges of the book like it kept his torso intact with his legs. "Elaka atum atey-"

"Atay," Elphaba corrected patiently.

"Fine. Atay nahmen aaka-"

Elphaba interrupted again. "Start over from the beginning, Harry. We can't have mispronouncing a spell from the middle, can we? You'll learn tolerance through exercise." She watched Harry's face with a slight smirk, happy to counteract his blow at her independence.

Harry stuck out his tongue childishly at the green witch. "You sound like a teacher," he whined. "I thought I was finished with them, but I had to go and get landed back in this place with you."

"Ten points from Gryffindor, Mr. Potter," Elphaba chastised in a stern tone, but her eyes twinkled, "for disrespecting a Hogwart's teacher."

"You do realize you've just taken points off your own house, right?" Harry raised an eyebrow, grinning.

Elphaba shrugged indifferently. "I never cared for the point system, anyhow. I know the entire house would be cursing my name by now, but it just breeds unnecessary competition between houses that couldn't possibly be healthy to form friendships. I find detentions much more efficient in the task of discipline: a student can win their points back, but not their free time."

"Alright. Detention with Filch, Miss Thropp," Harry grinned, the Grimmerie jumping under his jerking legs, "for trying to take points off someone who doesn't even go here anymore. You'll be cleaning the dungeons with your bare hands, no magic, just because you're mean."

"Mr. Potter," Elphaba tried to keep a straight face, and triumphing, save for the twitching edges of her lips, "are you challenging my authority as a bona fide professor in this educational establishment?"

"Perhaps," Harry said nonchalantly, looking up at her with unblemished innocence.

"I think this constitutes another duel," the green witch suggested with a knowing eyebrow raised.

Harry laughed mockingly, exaggerating his guffaws like a silent movie villain. "Aren't you embarrassed enough, Professor, or don't you remember the outcome of our first meeting at the dueling club?"

Elphaba opened her mouth to retort snidely when the clock chimed twelve, indicating that lunch was soon to commence. She sighed, taking the book back from the wizard and closing it lightly. "Since we've achieved virtually nothing today, I suggest we meet again tomorrow for a fruitful progression."

"And whose fault was that?" Harry crossed him arms. "Fine." He stood from his chair and made to leave the Dueling classroom, and then turned around to meet Elphaba, who hadn't moved an inch. "Are you coming?"

"Later," Elphaba mumbled, concentrating on something else. She pointed at the book. "I wanted to look through this a little more first." Harry made a point of groaning loudly and Elphaba looked up at him impatiently. "What?"

"You're skipping another meal, Fae, it's unacceptable. It's as though you want to drop dead in the middle of the spell, or at least before we go to war," Harry snapped, waving her over. "Come here, you've plenty time to look through it later. Now."

"I will come, just not now. Hush, will you?" Elphaba hissed, annoyed. Harry tapped his foot expectantly, and Elphaba shot him a glare. "Look, if I don't join you in fifteen minutes, you can report me to Pomphrey. Satisfied?"

"No," Harry huffed under his breath. "Sufficiently," he said sardonically, this time louder. "You have fifteen minutes before I expect to see you in the Great Hall, Fae. Without that book- or any book, for that matter- in your hand."

"You really do act like a clingy older brother, Harry. It's unattractive on you." Elphaba shook her head, but smiled to herself from inside an open book.

"Well then, as part of my older brother responsibilities- hey! Wait a minute! Fae, I'm younger than you, aren't I?" Harry asked, wanting to intrude on her last precious fifteen minutes of solitude.

"By about a year or less, I'd calculate, but no matter," confirmed the green witch. "You sure do act like one." As Harry opened his mouth to say something, Elphaba held up a hand. "Just go to lunch, Harry. I'll be there."

"See that you do," Harry warned, turning on his heels and walking away. He trotted down a few levels before bumping into Glinda, who was walking in his general direction.

"Oh, hello Glinda." Harry smiled, forming a plan to knock some sense into the green witch.

"Hey! Where's Elphie, I thought she'd be with you?" Glinda asked pleasantly.

"She was," Harry shrugged. "She stayed behind, though, to look at the Grimmerie. In her classroom."

"And she's not going to lunch again?" Glinda groaned, and plastered on a contagious smile. "I'll take care of it. I'll kidnap her, if need be."

Harry laughed. "Good luck with that, Glinda. I think you'll need it."

Glinda stormed into the classroom and paused in front of Elphaba, who didn't bother to look up from her work.

"Harry," the green witch said rhythmically, in annoyance, "I told you fifteen minutes, didn't I? Stop acting like a child."

Glinda put her hands on her hips and struck a pose. "Excuse me?" She tested warningly, and her voice startled Elphaba. "What did you call me?"

Upon hearing Glinda's voice, Elphaba finally looked up from the spell book. "Oh, Glinda, I'm sorry," she apologized automatically. "I thought you were – well, never mind. What are you doing here anyway? I'd expect you to be at lunch by now."

"I should be." Glinda narrowed her eyes to inspect Elphaba closely. "More importantly, though, what are you doing here, Elphie? You should be at lunch as well, unless you've adopted old habits once more."

"It is habitual for me to – wait, Harry put you up to this, didn't he?" Realization dawned upon her and Elphaba reminded herself to kick the man for budding into personal affairs. Without waiting for a reply, which stood as clear as the blonde in front of her anyhow, she growled, "I told him I'd be down soon. Does no one trust me anymore? Ever since I've been back, it's as though everyone's reverted to baby talk. I'm not a child, dammit!"

"Elphie," Glinda tried, her voice quiet. Elphaba stood during her diatribe and began to pace, obviously thinking of other things intermingled with her frustrations, mumbling to herself angrily. "Elphie." The green witch didn't register a thing. "Elphaba Thropp!"

"What?" Elphaba yelled suddenly, turning to Glinda with livid eyes. They softened immediately when she realized what was happening and swept over to embrace the blonde. "Oh Merlin," Elphaba muttered contritely. "I'm sorry, Glinda. I didn't mean to yell at you, but lately things are tightening and everything is just so… high strung. I shouldn't have taken it out on you."

The sympathetic expression on Elphaba's face, laced with apology, was unfitting for the green witch, and Glinda touched her cheek and laughed despite herself. "Elphie, do I look angry to you? You needn't apologize; I can feel it in the air, too. Everyone is on edge, especially you, and you're worrying about it too much. You've been working way past your limits, and Voldemort hasn't even so much as showed his face-"

"Exactly." Elphaba ran her fingers through her black hair tiredly. "Ever since my rescue, Voldemort has been uncharacteristically quiet, and considering the way we left, he should be looking for way of revenge. Harry and I have already voiced suspicions of a final battle with the Order, and they agree. The only trouble is when and where it's going to be, and waiting in ignorance makes nothing simple. I just wish we could get this over wi-"

Through her explanation, Elphaba was beginning to rile up, more excited with each sentence, building frustration. Glinda knew that Elphaba wouldn't cease her anxiety, but thought it best to rearrange her concentrate ion on something other than the war. She smiled lightly and placed a hand over Elphaba's mouth before she could finish.

"Elphie, stop. You're working yourself into a panic attack, thinking about painful things like that. Calm down, take a breath, close your eyes or something."

The green witch smiled, which faded like a fleeting streak of lightning. "But-"

"Calm down!" Glinda shouted austerely. Elphaba inhaled, beckoning Glinda to continue with her silence. "Look, the final battle is in inevitable, yes?" Elphaba nodded. "Right. Then it's not going to go away. The only thing you can do is prepare accordingly, not overwork and stress yourself out with possibilities. I know it's hard to let go of whatever you're feeling, but there isn't much else you can do besides be ready. And you certainly won't be ready, Elphie, when your nerves are shot. So please, just relax."

Elphaba smiled slightly, gazing up at the blonde bashfully. "Thanks, Glinda… you know I can't help but worry. What would I do without your sensibility?"

"Panic? Go crazy. Hospital Wing maybe," Glinda offered. "Seriously, though, Elphie, I'm here for you. If you want to talk or… or if you need something like this." She leaned in and pressed her lips to green ones, kissing Elphaba lightly, who deepened it into an enthusiastic finish when they broke apart. Glinda looked at Elphaba adoringly, studying the worried expression as it began to die away. They kissed again, and when Glinda showed no signs of letting go, Elphaba discreetly reached for her wand and locked the classroom door.

Needless to say, neither made it to lunch.

Elphaba's eyes flew open as there came a loud knock at her portrait door. She fumbled for her wand on the bedside table, whacking other belongings to the ground as she went. "Tempus," she muttered, sleep heavy in her voice. It was 3:10 AM.

"Elphie?" Glinda murmured sleepily next to her, eyes still closed. She was grasping her pillow tightly, almost in a fetal position. "Are you alright? What happened?"

"Nothing, Glinda," Elphaba swiftly slipped on her Order robes and boots. "Go back to sleep." The blonde nodded and began to make light snoring sounds again.

Had Voldemort decided to attack at this time of night? Was the final battle to take place in their sleeping robes? By this time, the knocking had turned to a consistent thudding. Elphaba rushed to the portrait, not wanting to wake Glinda but anxious to see what was happening. Hermione was on the other side, a wild look in her eyes, but her hair and clothes were neat as though she hadn't yet slept.

"What is it?" Elphaba asked, gathering up her robes slightly to step out. "Are you alright? Has there been an attack?"

"No," Hermione answered soberly, motioning down the hall. "But you should come. It's about Harry."

The bushy haired witch didn't wait for a response, taking off down the without making sure that Elphaba was following her. Gingerly, the green witch did, growing nervous as they approached the Hospital Wing, hypothesizing that The-Boy-Who-lived was attacked, immobilized, or crippled from their battle strategy.

The moon lit the Hospital Wing naturally, shining through the giant windows and casting shadows around the beds. As they entered, Hermione finally turned to the green witch. "You'll see. He's in here."

"What the hell?" Elphaba muttered to herself.

Here were sounds of groaning and agonized screams. They were loud, but seemed restrained as though too many people would hear. As she approached, she saw Harry lying in a bed, in the middle of a room in the back, near Madame Pomphrey's office. He was twitching spastically, writhing into the covers like a victim of the Cruciatus Curse. He clawed at his scar, with glowed an eerie, unlikely red, slowly leaking blood. It ran down his face thickly, like viscous ketchup.

"What happened?" Elphaba demanded, bracing her hands in preparation to help, although she'd no idea how to soothe him.

"Thropp! Thank Merlin you're here." Pomphrey came around the bed and promptly shoved towels into her arms. "Take these and press them to his scar to stem the bleeding. The other members are being informed, and Snape has gone to retrieve some compatible potions. Judging from the nature of Potter's vision, he's going to tell us something we wished we hadn't heard."

Elphaba pressed a towel to Harry's scar, holding him down slightly to lessen the jerking motions of his spasms. "What do you mean exactly, visions?"

Pomphrey clucked her tongue in sympathy. "You don't know about Potter's visions, do you, Thropp? His scar connects him to You-Know-Who, so he can see the Dark Lord's whereabouts and plans at a painful price, also tied to the curses cast by the Dark Lord in the vision. Potter's been able to shield his mind from such monstrosities since he was in school, but Albus recently asked him to re-open his mind to get a head start against… well."

"So this happens every time he gets a vision?" demanded Elphaba, slightly disturbed by the fact Dumbledore would ask Harry to experience this kind of agony just to plan against Voldemort. Blood began to modestly seep through the towel and onto her hands, so she pressed another to strengthen to the pressure on Harry's face.

"Not every time, Thropp, only when visions get cross. Poor boy, I can't imagine what he sees. Not even when you were captured was it this intense, so I predict You-Know-Who is especially angry."

Snape swept through the doorway with an armful of potions, and Pomphrey waved him over. "Oh good, oh good, you've brought them all."

"Yes, the necessary potions," snapped the potions master, grumpy at being woken up at three in the morning. He held out a red vial, which Pomphrey accepted. "Here's the Anti-Cruciatus. The blue ones are Pepper-Ups, and the orange ones are just in case. Do you need anything else?"

"No, I don't think so. Thank you." Pomphrey sighed and cast a glance at Harry, whose thrashing were no longer frantic and screams dieing out, eyelids twitching as though he would soon wake.

"Harry?" Elphaba peered down at the Boy-Who-Lived, whose eyes fluttered open lazily. "Are you alright?"

"Fae," acknowledged the wizard, rubbing his eyes and lightly prodding at his scar, wincing in response. Elphaba's swatted his hands away. He smiled. "It seems out positions have reversed now, haven't they?"

"Indeed," Elphaba muttered, slowing down the blood flow on Harry forehead. She waited for him to calm. "What did you see?"

Harry closed his eyes slowly, reopening them and rubbing away the sleep. He gave Elphaba a grim stare. "It's as we've feared, Fae. Voldemort is planning a full-scale attack this week, on Hogwarts. This is it. It's the final battle."

The next day, the entire school was altered to prepare for the battle. Multitudes of owls were sent out to parents, informing them of the train evacuating their children and advising them to stay indoors. Aurors arrived in groups to patrol the school, sometimes still bothering to disguise themselves. The Order met frequently every day, while Elphaba and Harry decoded the final concerns of the spell. Loads of supplies were imported to the Hospital Wing and the kitchen. Pomphrey insisted Glinda spend twice as much time in the Hospital Wing to learn more extensive, intensive healing techniques.

It was decided the Great Hall be converted into a larger Hospital Wing to accommodate the estimated wound and death rate. Glinda and Pomphrey oversaw the preparations, while the other members of the Order would be defending the castle. The strategy was to give Elphaba and Harry room to perform their spell uninterrupted. The looming pessimism was as though people expected to lose the battle, and people were distracting themselves by perfecting their stations.

The night before the battle, Elphaba quietly slipped out of the Order meeting. She walked through the grounds, past the courtyard, past Hagrid's Hut, down to the lake. The sky was grey and scattered with stars, the night cleared by the moonlight cast upon the lake. The waters twinkled slightly, reflecting the stars and moonlight, but it didn't stifle Elphaba Thropp's terror of the next day. She was scared out of her mind at the thought, and hugged herself gingerly, as though she were dangerous to herself.

Figuring no one noticed Elphaba leave, Glinda quietly followed suit. The green witch had begun to close off her feelings again since Harry's vision, avoiding all the blonde's questions and advances. The only transparent aspect of Elphaba was her body language, and Glinda could read it just as well as the Boy-Who-Lived. The detached room Elphaba put between herself and other people, the arms up to cover herself, seemingly unsure of whether to pace or sway, and settling for a method between the two all indicated that the green witch was frightened. Glinda was afraid as well, and didn't want Elphaba to think that she was alone. Glinda was frightened of losing her again.

"Elphie?" she called softly, though no one could hear them this far from the entrance. Elphaba looked up at her and rushed to embrace the blonde, who melted into the contact. The clung to one another under the stars, remembering the foolishness of their activities by the lake before contrasting with the dire need of courage, musing on how inconsistent life could be. "Elphie, you'll be fine. We'll both be alright and we'll be together again."

"I'm not worried about myself." Elphaba said, letting go of the blonde. "Glinda, I was watching the Order tonight and all the people talking at the meeting. Everyone is excited, in a sense, and so lively. I can't help but think…how many of them will be gone tomorrow? The death toll is expected to be gargantuan. Who is going to be left? Or will there be no one left?"

Glinda felt a terrible ache rise in her stomach and put a hand on Elphaba's shoulder. "I don't know, Elphie. But... you can take care of yourself. Despite it all, you'll come out of this as strong as you've always been. I've no doubts about it, so please, just don't prove me wrong."

Elphaba paused and Glinda could see her silhouette as it danced clearly against the moon. She admired it, never considering it before. The green woman nodded. "Glinda," she began, maybe a bit too forcefully, "I want you to know that whatever happens here tomorrow, you get out safely. You can't go and die, all right? I-I love you so much. I don't know how to express this, but-"

"Oh," Glinda whispered, reaching out to hold Elphaba's hand sweetly. She couldn't help but feel defeated, as though this was the last minute of the time they cultivated, never to see one another again, but Glinda abolished the thought. She smiled, holding back tears as best she could. "I know. And I love you, too, my brave, stubborn, beautiful Elphie. Lurline knows how much you've taught me, and there is no way I could forget that."

They kissed for the last time before the battle, a desperate race of lips, as though they had to appreciate one another through that one moment. Clouds as grey as the sky, illuminated slightly into a ghostly glow, moved to stifle the moonlight, darkening the sky and the lake water. They kissed in darkness because it didn't matter who could or couldn't see them.

The following morning, Elphaba was up at first light to pace the Entrance Hall. At a few minute intervals, she would check the newly decorated Great Hall's windows to recognize any approaching hoards of Death Eaters. She resumed her pacing, breathing deeply so as not to hyperventilate.

Soon, the rest of sixty or more Order members arrived, silence covering the entire hall, save for the clicking on their shoes on marble. Loud enough to jump a man out of his skin, the colossal clock chimed seven in the morning, and eight an hour later. Elphaba cast awkward glances at Glinda, who was readying the room silently, though it was already prepared for use.

They collected without words and waited patiently, their insides screaming for alleviation. It was at eight that Dumbledore climbed down the stairs to meet his Order. Only three words were necessary for them to be hurdled into their fates. "They have arrived."

Coming up: The grim realities of war…AKA a death or two.

So…I'll be gone from tomorrow till next Wednesday. But I already have the next chapter written, so you'll get an update on Thursday or Friday. How's that?

-Wolfie