The Dream Trilogy Book One: To Dwell On Dreams (A Harry Potter FanFiction)

Chapter Twenty One

Chapter Twenty One

The debate rolled on, fiercely, but Harry didn't stay for it. He'd made up his mind, and he couldn't explain to his father that he'd already defeated Voldemort four times already in his various guises, because that had happened in another reality. His mum wasn't happy about it at all, but with Malfoy's reassurances that they were the best shot at getting Sarah back alive she had stopped arguing and started helping. 

"What can I do?" was the last Harry had heard, before his father had exploded again and Harry had decided he had work of his own to do before they could leave. So he'd given Hermione a nod, then walked back out into the hallway, glancing over his shoulder as he mounted the staircase in case anyone was protesting. 

The adults were arguing so loudly they didn't seem to notice. But Parvati and Seamus were both watching him go with worried looks on their faces. Harry gave them a tight smile, but he wasn't coming back down again.  

He went to move, but he realised Malfoy was watching him too. His expression was pensive, and his hands were resting on the fraying strap of his satchel again. As Harry caught his eye, he shifted his jaw as if he was biting his tongue, then gave him a nod that was more of a jut of the chin. Harry did the same, even though it felt odd. 

He steadied himself on the banister as he reached the second floor landing, and almost pushed himself off again to propel his body towards his bedroom. His head was pounding as he groped for the handle and fumbled his way inside, the contents of his stomach still rolling around like the dregs of a beer barrel.  

How had this day got so much worse? his thoughts screamed as he closed the door and flattened his back against it. He'd been so terrified, so confused when he'd woken from that fretful sleep, traumatised with the apparent trickery of his resurrected family. Coupled with the elation of finding Hermione, of convincing her of his story, and then her explanation... 

This world was real. It may not have been the world he knew, but her theory of parallel dimensions made so much sense. After all, if time travel was possible, why not this? 

But that meant Sarah really had been kidnapped by Wormtail, that she really was in the clutches of the Death Eaters right then and there. His little sister, something Harry had never dared imagine to be true, had been snatched away by the man he hated most in entire world after Voldemort himself.  

How could Harry have let it happen again, let him slip away, let him destroy the life of someone close to him, again? 

Before he could stop himself he had his hands on the chair by his desk and he threw it at the wall with a scream. It tore through a poster of a rock band and left a crack in the wall. The guys Harry could still see holding guitars looked indignant through their smudged eyeliner. He stared at the chair on the floor, and blew out the breath, his rage and frustration abated again for now. With a flick of his wand he repaired the wall and the picture, then picked up the chair and put it back where it belonged. Throwing furniture was what had got him into this mess in the first place. 

He listened over his breathing, and thought maybe the shouting had died down. Whether that was a good or a bad thing though he wasn't sure, so he got to work, not wanting to give anyone the chance to stop him from going with Malfoy. He pulled open his wardrobe and reached for the rucksack he'd seen when he'd got changed from his pyjamas earlier, and emptied out some rather funky smelling Quidditch robes. 

Malfoy, he worried as he looked around for what to actually put back in the bag. What did you need to go rescue your alternate-dimension-sister from an evil wizard's headquarters?  

There was a feather-light cauldron on his desk, so he started with that as well as some basic potion ingredients he found lying about. Could he really trust that Malfoy wasn't setting him up? he thought to himself. That he wasn't just planning on delivering him to Voldemort as well? He sighed and picked up a copy of the Standard Book of Spells, dropping it into the backpack and shaking it to feel the weight. Just to be on the safe side he shrunk it to about half its size, then threw in some extra socks. You couldn't go wrong with extra socks.