The Dream Trilogy Book Two: Tread On My Dreams (A Harry Potter FanFiction)

Chapter Forty Five

Chapter Forty Five

It just about broke Harry's heart wading through the twisting dungeons that served as the Ministry's hall of records, though not as much as it would have broken Hermione's if she were here, he suspected. Despite being dungeons, they weren't as low down as the courtroom on Level Ten, or even the offices on Level Nine it seemed. Harry guessed they lay somewhere in between Nine and Eight, and as such were wading through waist high water.  

"This parchment is doing my head in," moaned Ron, and Harry had to 'shh' him, again. 

"There could be Death Eaters anywhere," he whispered as they looked around another alcove piled high with documents and artefacts. Well, those that hadn't floated off yet anyway. The dungeons were made of dark stone and there weren't that many torches, so Harry and Ron both had their wands lit and raised as they searched through as quietly as they could for Sarah. Except Ron kept forgetting about the quiet part. So far they'd come across nothing much, not even many frozen people, but as the currents swirled more and more of the Ministry's history was being swept out of its boxes and drawers, and being ruined and lost in the water.  

Harry and Ron were now continuously fighting against clogs of paper, files, photographs and charts to get from dungeon to dungeon. Now that the immediate danger had past, Ron was doing what he generally did best, and moaning about the situation. "The water's really cold again," he griped, parting a layer of tax returns. "Can't we heat it up? My legs are numb." 

"I think," said Harry patiently. "If we do that, anybody in the same water will probably know we're here, and this particular stretch of water probably reaches quite far." Ron harrumphed but argued no more on the matter. 

The paintings were very sparse here, so Sir William had shown them the way in, and told them the way out, but other than that they'd only seen him once, when he'd been waiting in surrealist painting on the top shelf in one of the alcoves. Harry supposed it was some sort of artefact, or evidence in some trail, but the bizarre, melted subject of the work seemed very happy to have guests, even if only for a few minutes. 

Since then, the two boys had been on their own, delving through the dungeons, calling out Sarah's name quietly. So far they'd found absolutely nothing useful, and they were well over halfway through now. Harry was losing hope. He kept telling himself that Sirius and the others were just as likely to find her, but he'd insisted on holding onto her wand because he'd just assumed they'd be the ones to track her down. 

"So this Alex guy," said Ron, forgetting once again to keep his voice down and breaking Harry's line of thought. "Was he sort of an angel?" 

As they'd been searching, the boys had filled each other in on what had been going on. Harry had heard all about the empty file with 'Dimensional Hotspots' written on it, and in turn he'd told Ron about his visit to Alex's house in the stars. 

Harry pulled a face as he looked around an alcove filled solely with cuddly toys. "No," he replied, quickly satisfying the question as to whether or not Sarah was hiding there. "I don't think so. He called himself a Watcher." 

"Whatever that means," mumbled Ron as they fought their way back out again against the collection of teddy bears blocking the doorway. "I still don't get how you can have a bit of You-Know-Who in you." 

"Two bits, from two realities, that's the problem. He needs the bit from Draco's world to go back there." 

Ron scoffed, and said "Draco" almost too low for Harry to hear. But he did. "Yeah?" he said. "What's the matter with that?" 

"You," said Ron, unabashed. "Calling him Draco like you're best mates. His name is Malfoy, doesn't matter where he's from." 

"Actually, it does," said Harry crossly, wading on and forgetting to lower his own voice. "In case you've purposefully kept your eyes closed the whole day, he's completely different to Malfoy."