Chapter Forty: Dream Within a Dream
They had returned to Hogwarts on January the fifth – and by January the sixth, Harry had a note to meet Madam Umbridge in the Defense Against Dark Arts classroom to discuss his 'detentions'.
The mood in the Slytherin dorm was icy. Harry had slipped away with Pansy and Millicent as escorts – he pitied the person who decided to tangle with the two girls while he was…busy.
Classes would start the next day. Harry had hoped to have one more peaceful day with Draco and his friends before it all started up again. The papers over the winter holidays had not helped his cause either. There was a rash of missing people in muggle London and its suburbs. The entire wizarding world was on edge. There had been a marked decrease of god sightings in the muggle world. No one knew exactly what was happening.
Harry knew, from the vague whispers and the intent glares that had been thrown around the dorm ever since he got his summons, that Draco and the rest of his House had something planned, but Harry would not be allowed to know what. The less he had to lie about when facing Umbridge, the better, and it also meant that there was a less of a chance in Draco being injured by her curse.
Far too soon they were at the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom door. Harry left the girls in the hall behind him and entered. Umbridge was seated behind her desk, dressed in pastel pink, a small carnation tucked into the buttonhole of her fitted jacket.
"Mr. Potter." Her smile was all teeth.
"Professor Umbridge." He hated calling her professor, but it was a title she enforced in her classroom.
"It's so good to see that you've survived the holidays without mishap," her eyes still had the same manic glitter as always. "You have some detentions to make up."
"Make…up?"
"Oh, yes."
"But I thought…"
"For impertinence," she let out a happy sigh. "Your papers, I've just finished going through them and I must say, Mr. Potter, I am quite disappointed in you."
It came to him, in that instant, that Umbridge was just as bad as Voldemort in her own way. She would keep coming after him, again and again, with one excuse after the other. She would not stop and he could not make her stop, not when she held all the power in their situation.
He felt his nails bite into the skin of his palms. "Every Sunday evening, like before then?"
"That would do nicely, you man," she pursed her lips and tilted her head to one side. "How is Mr. Malfoy these days? Oh, yes, do forgive me, you've been rather distant lately, haven't you?"
"Yes, ma'am. Very distant."
"How excellent. Well then, go on," she nodded at the first row of desks in front of her. The dreaded pen and inkwell sat in the center, crouched at the top of a pile of parchment, like miniature predators. If they had had eyes, Harry would have sworn they would have been trained on him.
"But…"
"No buts, Mr. Potter. Or would you care to find out how much pain Mr. Malfoy can stand?"
His gut clenched. "No," he gritted out.
"No, what?"
"No, Professor Umbridge. I don't want to find that out."
"Very well, then," she made a lazy gesture at the desk. He dragged his feet, heading towards it.
In the end, Pansy and Millicent had to wait a lot longer for him than they had expected.
qpqpqpqp
Severus folded his hands in his lap and considered the man on his couch.
"I take it, this isn't a normal meeting?" Auror Rayne set his cup aside.
"No," Severus inclined his head in a slow nod. "Not at all."
"How is Harry?"
"Not…well."
Rayne shifted on the couch. "He's told you this?"
"My observations, only."
Rayne frowned, eyeing Severus with shadowed eyes. "Is there something going on?"
"Yes."
"That involves Harry?"
"…I cannot say."
"Why not?"
"You are a trained Auror, Rayne." Severus felt his lip curl. "Even you should understand the nature of magic."
Rayne leaned back in his seat, a sheet of calm settling over his features. "Why have you asked me to come?"
"Because you needed to be informed."
"That's all?"
"…No." Severus picked up his cooling tea and took a sip. "You have been reinstated to normal duties, have you not?"
"Yes. Minister Scrimgeour's orders."
"Have you received any orders telling you to avoid contact with Harry?"
Rayne's mouth settled into a firm line. "I cannot discuss such things with you, Snape."
"If it came down to it, Rayne," Severus decided to stop dithering with pleasantries, "Would you come and arrest Harry or would you fight for him?"
Rayne went very still. "There would have to be just cause for something like that to happen."
"Oh, come, Auror Rayne. We all know that is a falsehood."
A muscle leaped in Rayne's jaw. "I cannot answer such a vague –"
"Yes or no, Rayne." Severus felt the comforting weight of his wand in his sleeve.
Rayne turned his face away, staring into the fire. "I would fight," he said after a long pause. "You should have known that by now, Snape."
"There are few things in this world I profane to know, Rayne. The rest is up for interpretation." Severus murmured a warming spell over his tepid tea. "This problem, however, goes beyond Mr. Potter."
"How?"
"It includes Mr. Malfoy."
Rayne canted an eyebrow. "Harry has dragged Lucius Malfoy into this?"
"In a way, but the Mr. Malfoy I was referring to was the younger."
"Ah, of course," Rayne straightened in his seat. "Is there anything I can do?"
Perfect, Severus set aside his cup and leaned forward. "What information would you be able to acquire about one Dolores Umbridge?"
qpqpqpqp
Harry wouldn't let Draco see his hand. The blond wanted to strangle the boy – but knew that it was mostly his frustration talking. He wanted – no, he needed to be able to do something. His father had been livid when Draco had found a way to tell the older man about the curse and Harry's punishments. Lucius had raged for an entire morning, already upset about his inability to see the temple before everyone else, going back and forth between Black's incompetence as a guardian and how he could strangle Umbridge himself for daring to curse the Malfoy heir.
It had been a sight to see.
Once Severus had been informed – there had been no way Draco could stop his father from sharing the information, Draco had received a stern lecture from the Potions Master about not coming for help sooner. Then they had all put their heads together and come up with the same answer Sasha and Hermione had figured out weeks before.
They would need to wait for the new moon and the ingredients to arrive on time fore they could attempt to break the curse. There was no other way.
After settling Harry in his room – he had wanted to be alone and Draco could never deny those eyes – Draco had paced back to the work rooms to vent some of his anger in a place that could hold up against his wrath.
"What are ye doing that for?"
The room was locked from the inside. Draco had made sure of that. He kept his wand held tight in his hand as he whirled on the owner of the voice.
A portly man stood next to the door. A small smile on his face as he rested his hands on his belly. He seemed familiar to Draco. The robes, the lack of hair…
"Ogma!" He said without thinking.
"Ah, yes, clever lad. Took you long enough," the god rocked up onto his toes and then back down to his heels.
"What did you just…"
"It is rare, these days," Ogma continued. "For a young man, such as yourself, to ask for such…intriguing things at Yule."
Draco had yet to lower his wand. "Weren't you unable to speak English before?"
"Oh, that," Ogma waved a hand. "Humanity has advanced so much while I have slept. It was easy enough to learn."
"Right," Draco let his arm drop to his side, but did not put his wand away. "Wait – what were you – "
"Wisdom, I believe is what you had asked for." Ogma took a small step. "A quill and parchment, as well as an offering of flesh and blood, am I right?"
Draco's arm throbbed, the small scar from the wound hidden under his shirt. He had not told anyone about his offerings, not even his father or Harry.
"You are correct," Draco acknowledged. "Was the gift too small?"
The pleased smile on Ogma's face grew. "Small? Young man, oh no." He took another step forward. "Just right, I would say."
"You would say," Draco echoed.
"And then your curious observance at the new temple, indeed, a normal person would have paraded in front of one of those solar deities that are so popular."
"I am not normal," Draco lifted his chin. "I'm a Slytherin. We're better than normal."
To his surprise, the god began to laugh, a hearty chuckle that moved the bulk of his middle. Draco held his ground as the god advanced, unwilling to retreat.
"Ah, what a young man you are, Draco, heir of the Malfoy clan," Ogma was right in front of him. Draco could feel the power of the god surround him, causing the small hairs on the back of his neck to stand up on end.
One long finger reached out and tapped Draco on the forehead, just above the spot between his eyes. "You should be careful what you wish for, young man. Remember that." The power in the room rose to a level that caused Draco's bones to vibrate. He struggled to breathe through the charged air, unable to look away from the god's eyes.
"Merry Yule," Ogma whispered, and the world went dark.
qpqpqpqp
Gwyn ap Nudd charged through the Dark, short sword in one hand, ready to swing at whatever charged at him from the Dark.
He had her scent, now. The feathers lay in thick clumps, all over the ground. A small part of his mind wondered how there could be so many feathers, so bloody, so torn, and not have the tang of her blood-scent lodged in the back of his throat. He shook the thought away with a snarl. He was close. He had to concentrate.
Something amorphous roared and burst from the gloom. A sweep of his blade had the creature tumbling away with a shriek and spray of blood. Gwyn ap Nudd did not pause on his charge.
He had her scent, her trail. He would find her soon.
qpqpqpqp
The first week back at classes were always taxing. Harry cradled his hand to his chest when he walked through the halls, unwilling to let it bump against the other students. He had let that happen, once. Never again.
Professor McGonagall shot him a few worried looks throughout the week. He did his best to avoid her gaze and dodge the headmaster's twinkling stare. He wasn't sure what would happen with Umbridge if those two found out and he wasn't willing to risk it. Not after Draco's collapse.
The blond swore it wasn't the curse – or at least, alluded that it wasn't, since everyone, it seemed, in the entire House, knew what was going on. Draco was curiously mum on the entire thing, submitting to Severus' barked orders and a night in the Infirmary without a peep.
Madam Pomfrey had looked the other way when she had found Harry asleep in the chair next to Draco's bed. She had also been kind enough to sooth the kink in his neck he had gotten because of it.
Whatever had happened, it hadn't hurt Draco, at least as far as Harry could tell. He knew Draco wanted to tell him something – but the whole mess with Umbridge kept them quiet. Harry was ready to curse the meddling old bitch, himself, if the others didn't hurry up and shatter the curse on Draco. He wanted his confidant back.
Harry was tired of putting up with the crap that kept heading his way.
It was the Friday after the first week of classes. He still had detention Sunday night, but Harry was determined to enjoy the rest of the weekend, throbbing hand be damned.
He set his books down harder than normal on the House table. Draco peered up at him.
"All right there, Harry?"
"I'm fine," he sat down and took his goblet of pumpkin juice with his good hand. He was getting better with his non-dominant side, ever since the mess with Umbridge had happened.
Draco tilted his head as he studied Harry's face. "Are you allowed to go to Hogsmead now?"
Harry swallowed down a large gulp. "Yes," he refused to let that get him bitter as well. Sirius' letter had been full to the brim about how good Harry had been and how proud he was that Harry was back to normal.
Draco leaned into Harry's side. They were hidden from the view of the head table by the strategic placement of the Quidditch team beaters. "Would you do me the honor of accompanying me to Hogsmead then?"
Harry choked on a mouthful of juice as Pansy and Blaise made gagging noises in the background. Neville patted Harry on the back as he recovered, trying to glare at the blond and failing.
"You – you –," he threw his hands into the air. "Of course I will."
"How romantic," Draco rolled his eyes as Harry gaped, pulled back and smacked the blond on the shoulder.
With his bad hand.
He felt his smile go stiff and strained. The cheer around them dimmed. Harry tried to keep his expression blank, but for some reason his eyes had become blurry.
"Oh, am I late?" Ginny's voice broke the moment. They hadn't told the younger girl, as far as Harry could tell. He wasn't sure if she could have kept the secret from Sirius for long – Ginny did not like keeping things from her new father and Harry was relieved that she had turned a blind eye to how much time Harry spent with Draco, against Sirius' express wishes.
"No, Ginny," Pansy chirped. "We're just about to start, I think." On cue, Dumbledore rose and dinner appeared.
Harry took the moment of confusion to wipe at his eyes. He felt Draco curl a hand around his arm. He patted at it and blinked a few times, shaking his head until his bangs fell forward to shield his eyes from view.
"Oh, Harry! Did you get Father's letter?" Ginny sat opposite and a few spots down from him.
"Yes," he managed. He felt Neville shift and press a handkerchief into Harry's hand. He swiped at his face while Pansy distracted Ginny and tucked the fabric into his pocket.
"Aren't you excited?" Ginny flipped her hair over her shoulder. "Pansy said Sasha knows some bookstores that we can go to! Won't that be fun?"
"Are you sure you're not part Ravenclaw?" Harry teased, daring to look up.
"Harry! I just want to be prepared and Professor Sinistra just assigned us a term project and the Library just got raided by all the others…"
"A true Slytherin," Draco intoned with a smile and a nudge to Harry's ribs.
"Like we had to guess," he snorted back at the boy. Ginny blushed, but laughed as the others chuckled.
Harry let the good mood wash through him. This will be a good weekend, he told himself. It will.
qpqpqpqp
"Harry?" Draco poked his head into the boy's room after his knock earned him a muffled 'come in'.
"Here," Harry was struggling with his coat, one-handed.
The slow burn of anger in his gut spiked, but he quelled it with a ruthless push. Harry had been so determined to be cheerful, to have a good, fun weekend Draco had vowed to be the last one to ruin that sentiment.
"Let me help," Draco stepped forward and untangled the sleeve of Harry's jacket. He kept his tone as neutral as possible.
"Thanks," Harry blew his bangs out of his face. "Ready to go?" He wouldn't meet Draco's eyes.
Umbridge is lucky this Sunday is the night of the new moon. "Yes," Draco grabbed the House scarf off of Harry's desk and wound it around the smaller boy's neck, despite his protests.
"Where did you want to go?" Harry asked, once he had tugged the material away from his mouth. Draco led the way, out of the room and out into the common room.
"Pansy mentioned that a new restaurant has opened," Draco said to keep Harry occupied.
"A new place? Where?"
"Off one of the back streets, I believe." Draco waited for Harry to join him at his side. Blaise was escorting Neville out through the door and Pansy was just venturing from the girl's dorm with Millicent in tow. Ginny was busy chattering at them both, a pair of pretty earrings twinkling in the light from the room as they stepped into the better illuminated room.
He turned to Harry. "Ready to go?"
Harry's nod caused his hat to fall down over his eyes. "Oh, yes," the boy said. "You bet I am."
qpqp
Harry had noted that most of the House was on edge throughout the day. He could tell Pansy's patience was wearing thin and Millicent hadn't bothered to hide her scowl. Ginny seemed oblivious to it all – and it was her cheerful good mood that kept Harry's flagging spirits in decent shape.
The new restaurant that Pansy had found was a far cry from their usual haunts. The thickly padded floors, the jewel-toned pillows and hanging tapestries looked more like something from out of a movie the Dursleys would have watched than real life.
"What does this say?" Harry peered at the menu, wondering for a moment if he needed to get his glasses checked again. All the words were slanted in a script that looked more like elaborate lace than letters.
"I…haven't the foggiest," it was rare to see Draco as perplexed as he was. He tilted the menu one way and then the other.
"Oh, for Merlin's sake, quit it," Pansy leaned past Millicent's shoulder to scold him. "The English portion is on the next page. Don't be such a baby about everything."
"Do you understand what is says?" Draco shot back.
"No, but I can read the English parts, so who cares about the rest?"
Harry ducked his head to hide his smile. Their bickering lacked the brittle edge that had accompanied most of their exchanges throughout the morning.
The food was strange, but tasty. They and a few adults were the only patrons that chilly afternoon. The spicy tea that was served in thick clay cups that had no handle was sweet, in a foreign way. Harry wasn't sure if he liked this chai as they called it, but it was a pleasant adventure that had nothing to do with death, dying or gods.
At least he hoped the adults that drifted in and out of the small restaurant were mortals and not gods.
Harry settled in next to Draco as the afternoon wore on. They were all ready for a break; the wind outside had been rising throughout the day, sending snow flurries down onto the village. Harry was grateful for the cap and scarf that had been forced on him – he reminded himself to stop in and speak to Professor Snape the next day. He knew the Potions Master would hate the thought of Harry hiding things from him. He owed it to the older wizard to at least try and explain what he could – if Draco and the others hadn't already told him, which was the most likely case. If that turned out to be true, well…Harry set his jaw. He'd go see the man anyway.
A small part of him felt guilty that he was more eager to talk to his Head of House than he legal guardian. He pushed that thought away with ruthless resolve.
He still had plenty of day left to enjoy. He refused to spoil it.
qpqpqpqp
Draco breathed a sigh of relief as Harry dropped off to sleep. He closed the door behind him on a gentle breath, freezing for a moment to make sure he had not woken the other boy. In the hall were the rest of the now sixth year students and a handful of seventh, Sasha included. Severus stood beyond them in the light of the common room, hands folded into the sleeves of his robe.
"Let's go," Draco said, taking point. He led them into the maze of tunnels, heading for the workrooms. They had a lot of work to do.
qpqp
The gift – as Ogma put it –had thrown Draco for a loop at first. The god's words, the return gift for the offerings, was all well out of Draco's range of things that he understood and had anticipated. Having something like an encyclopedic spell lexicon shoved into his brain was a whole other kettle of fish all together.
It's not even useful knowledge, he pushed the thought aside as he and the others readied the room. Draco had asked for wisdom and guidance – and, according to Ogma, was granted it. Draco failed to see the correlation.
Although, he did admit, pausing in his work on the formal alchemical seal they were creating on the workroom floor. Wisdom is, by some definitions, knowledge, but on that same note, it is knowledge gained by experience and life lessons. Which would make the acquired knowledge in my head worthless, since I do not know which spell and what advice goes with what experience.
He let out a sigh. I should have been more specific. From the looming silence in his head, that was one of the life lessons his knowledge had been gained from.
There were days when he could have strangled the bald god with his own bare hands.
Still, the knowledge he had gained had helped to make their preparations a whole moon cycle early. Somewhere, in the sea of information that Ogma had stuffed into his brain, was the knowledge of a sort cut to the particular curse breaking ritual they needed to use. Draco had decided not to question it – all of the other tests he had put the god's knowledge to had proved their worth. He would have to trust that the god was correct on this one too.
The one thing Draco could not blame on the god was his dreams. They had become more erratic of late – they had started the night the Wild Magic had decided to descend on Harry – and to a lesser degree Draco as well. They dreams of wind, of a stretch of muscles in his back he did not own, the feel of furry hide slicing open under hands that were not hands – he always woke from the dreams panting for breath and feeling as though his entire body was on fire.
The god's knowledge held no answers for him there, either. He would ask Harry –when he could again – and they would figure it out, together. Like they had planned.
Yes, Draco was definitely ready to end the curse Umbridge had placed on him. Definitely.
The circle they had painted onto the floor was dark against the gray flagstone. They had gloves and masks over their faces as Severus watched them with a careful eye – the mixture they had put together had a lead base and their head of House had been anything but pleased when he had learned of that particular detail. Still, the lead would act as their base, the branch that led into the groundwork that would unravel the curse – and add to their little surprise.
They were going to send the curse right back at the woman – with one alteration. Draco couldn't wait to see how it worked.
Blaise, Pansy, Millicent and Neville took up their places at the four main directional quarters. Severus had called him mad to use Neville in the ritual, but Draco had countered that out of them all, Neville was closest in strength to Draco, rivaling even Harry in terms of pure magical strength and reserves. The corners would not have much to do besides anchoring the spell – Severus was the one who would be doing all the hard work.
Draco stripped to the skin, pushing away the mild embarrassment that threatened. He had sworn that he would do anything it took to get rid of this curse from him and if he had to parade around in front of his friends starkers, well, it was a small price to pay for the freedom he would gain.
Although if one word of this got out to Harry, Draco also vowed to cut Pansy's hair with scissors and leave it a mess.
He laid down on the chilly floor and closed his eyes. The slick surface under him was full of toxic chemicals he would be forced to endure until the ritual was over. That, too, was part of the short cut he had been given. He hoped it worked.
He took a deep breath as he felt Severus step over the painted lines of power. It was time to begin.
qpqpqpqp
Harry twisted in his sheets, cold. He was halfway to dreams, but a nagging voice in his brain kept trying to wake him up. He was alone – that wasn't right, Draco should have been there. But the other boy was gone and the bed felt cold. Harry shivered and wrapped the heavy comforter around his body, but the chill would not dissipate.
He shifted onto his side, one leg thrown out into the wide sea of open space on the bed. His skin itched, prickling down his spine in a way that was not normal. He scrunched up his nose, feeling the urge to drift off clear. He was starting to wake up again. He was so tired of waking up throughout the night – all he wanted was a full eight hours of sleep. Uninterrupted. With no dreams, or nightmares or –
"Wakey, wakey," said a voice in his ear. Or any damn visitors, he finished in his head.
He was no longer on the bed. The soft comforter was gone, as was the mattress. He lifted his head and spat out a mouthful of sand, eyeing his surroundings.
The Path was the only illumination in the dark, and even it was soft, a thin game trail that wandered off into the gloom. Harry wiped his face with his hand and turned to look at the woman who had spoken.
She had dark hair that fell in ringlets around her face and over her shoulders. The toga-looking dress was bunched in odd places, a pale gray color that matched her eyes and mouth.
Harry drew in a breath – and began to cough. Dust lodged in the back of his throat, drying his mouth. The woman smiled, crouched in the Dark, just off the Path. The soft glow touched the skin of her face and exposed arms and hands. She seemed pale to Harry, as though she had never seen the sun.
"Ah, hello," Harry scratched the back of his neck, glancing around once he got breath back to speak.
"A dark haired dreamer," she reached out, her hand hovering over the skin of his forehead. "Marked and hunted, chased through realms of life and death. How strange, it is, that we have not met."
Harry blinked, considering her still expression and the shadows that seemed to creep and swirl around her. "Who are you?"
Her dark mouth curved, the cupid's bow lips thinning into a grin that flashed a bit of teeth. "I…am a relic, a forgotten god from a forgotten people," her fingers carded through the dark grains of sand beneath them.
"I'm…sorry?"
"Whatever for, child? You have brought us all back to life, you and the others. The call has gone out, all must answer." She cocked her head to one side, a sharp glance pinning him in place. "All must answer, you understand?"
"I…think so," he swallowed, mouth still dry as the desert. "I think…when people realize that – they'll hate me even more for it."
She threw back her head, her laughter more like defiant barks than a woman's giggle. "Mortals," she flashed him another smile full of teeth. "You think so linearly."
"A god knows what linearly means?"
The smile turned smug. "Not all sleep as deeply as the red headed horde from your isle. Some of us dreamed the dreams of the poets and seekers that have populated this world."
"But you said…"
"Do you always believe what strange gods tell you, all alone, in the Dark?"
His breath caught in his throat. Her dark eyes were laughing at him. The glitter of lights too numerous to be anything natural in their depths.
"Who are you?" He asked again, hands clenched around the fine, gray sand.
She leaned forward, gaze intent on his face. "It does not matter who I am, little dreamer. What matters is what I see."
"And what do you see?"
"I see the future splinter like a dagger made from obsidian. I see you scream and flee, eyes bleeding from bloody sockets, to be eaten by the Dark."
Harry's gut clenched. "That's what you wanted to tell me?"
"No," the smile was back. "But the Path you are on is dwindling, little dreamer. You have to find another way."
"I don't understand."
Her hand rose from the sands. A black feather was clutched in her fist. "The Paths are vanishing, one by one. You lack the Dream, but the call still rings out. Do you hear it?"
"No."
"Then you are doomed."
'But…"
"Find another Path, little dreamer," the woman crawled forward. Harry could not move, his body frozen where he sat in the dimming light of the Path. "Take this kiss upon the brow," she murmured, brushing dark lips to his skin. She pressed the feather into his hand. "Remember," she breathed into his ear. They were pressed tight together. He could feel the swell of her skin against his chest. "All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream."
"What?"
"In parting from you now, thus much let me avow," her tone took on a crooning cadence. He knew this, he knew this poem she was whispering into his ear…"You are not wrong, who dream, that my days have been a dream; yet if hope has flown away, in a night or in a day, in a vision, or in none, is it therefore the less gone?" She pressed her lips to his cheek. "Is all that we see or seem, but a dream within a dream?"
Harry woke up with a gasp, mouth tasting like ashes and sorrow, the god's words thundering through his head like an echoing bell.
The feather was still in his head when he managed to unclench his fingers. He did not sleep for the rest of the night.
End Chapter Forty
*credit to Edgar Allen Poe for use of the poem 'A Dream Within a Dream'