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

Chapter Forty Five

Chapter Forty Five

Harry couldn't seem to open his eyes. Fear washed over him and he tried to work out his surroundings; he was definitely lying down, and there was a cool breeze blowing from behind. Something was crunching underneath him as he moved. 

First one eyelid finally obeyed, then the other, and Harry was rewarded with weak midday sun shining through the broken window of the old History of Magic classroom. He propped himself up. He was in his own clothes, Peeves' same rude words were scribbled on the blackboard, his arm no longer ached. He was home. 

Overwhelmed with emotion, Harry dropped back down again onto the glass, curled into a ball, and began to shake. He grieved. He grieved for parents he never even knew, a sister who would never be born. He grieved for Seamus and his family, for Parvati, Hermione...Draco. He grieved for the fate of Sirius and Remus.  

He lay like that for a long while, so many thoughts racing through his head it made him dizzy. He gradually relaxed his cramped position, until eventually rolling onto his back, making the glass crunch. His eyes were stinging and his breath was still shuddering, but he was feeling slightly calmer once more. He ran his hands through his now clean hair and stared at the ceiling.  

He checked his watch. He'd only been out a couple of hours this time, enough for the early November sun to rise to the highest it was going to get.  

What the Hell was he supposed to do now? 

He was still in exactly the same position as when he left. Sirius was still locked up, waiting to get his soul sucked right out of his face for a crime he didn't commit, and the Ministry were no closer to listening to him than before. He thought of the world he'd just lost, the unattainability of it pressing down on him. Sirius had looked so healthy, so alive. His life here had been stolen from him, almost as much as it had from his parents. If only Harry could change it, if only... 

His mind strayed to the Mirror of Erised, where he had just retrieved the Philosopher's Stone. When he'd stumbled upon in all those Christmases ago he thought that would be the closest he'd ever get to seeing his family. And now they were torturously dangling out of his reach. He wondered how long it had taken the other Harry to wake up, imagined Lily looking after him, explaining what had happened in his absence. He thought of Sarah, his wildcat of a sister, who he would never even have a photo of to remind him like he did his parents. 

Dumbledore had stopped him looking in that mirror though, moved it away so he couldn't torment himself like he was now. "It does not do to dwell on dreams," he had told him. "And forget to live." 

Harry sat up, the glass tinkling off his back. He couldn't just sit there feeling sorry for himself. He couldn't let the memory of a life that never was crush him down. Sirius needed him, more now than ever. He just needed them to see the truth, what was really going on. He had to make them see. He'd been through the impossible in the last forty eight hours, he could make it this much further. He had to. 

He had an idea. He stood up, feeling pretty shaky but better than when he had woken up in Godric's Hollow. He shook the glass from his clothes, then mended the broken window with a flick of his wand. He grabbed the handle of the door, heaved it open, and stepped out into the castle corridor. His mind made up, he began walking quickly towards the Gryffindor common room.  

As it was nearly twelve, most people should have been down in the Great Hall having lunch, and Harry almost made it all the way to the tower without seeing anyone. Almost. 

"Oi! Potter!" crowed a voice from behind him that was obviously very pleased with itself. Harry stopped walking, not really wanting to turn around. When he did, he was met with the sight of Draco Malfoy striding down the corridor, immaculate robes billowing behind him, smarmy grin on his face. 

After Harry got over the irony that out of all the hundreds of students at this school, he had to run into Draco, he was struck by just how much smaller he seemed to look. When he came to a halt and folded his arms, Harry could see he was still taller than him, but the way he stood, they way he held himself, was a sharp contrast to the boy that had leapt to his defence and saved his life in the German underground. 

"Well if it isn't old Scarhead," he spat out, his voice clipped and shrill. "Thought you'd be hiding out until at least Thursday, or have you decided you want me to knock you off your broom after all?" Harry didn't know what to say. He was still sleep deprived and trying to work out how to save Sirius' life, still attempting to come to terms with the life he had just lost. If he needed any more confirmation that he was back home it was standing right in front of him. 

Malfoy leaned in, staring at him. "The Quidditch match next week, Potter, I asked you if you were scared?" 

But Harry just tilted his head to the side, looking at the Slytherin boy before him, and felt a smile creep onto in face. "What?" demanded Malfoy, his hand flying up to check his hair. "What are you laughing at?" But Harry's smile just broadened, and he chuckled softly to himself. "Potter, I swear-" 

Harry interrupted him. He took a step closer, making Malfoy jump and step back against the wall. Their faces were the closest they ever been in this world.  

"What the Hell are you playing at Potter?!" cried Malfoy, furious. But Harry just laughed again.  

"I see right through you Draco," he said, almost enjoying his confusion at using his first name. "You're a sad little boy, stomping and shouting so everybody notices. It's all a big show, I don't think even you know how big it is." Harry folded his arms and smiled again. "But do you know what, I think I finally do. I see right through you now."  

Malfoy's fists were clenched, eyes weary as he shifted against the wall. "Shut it, Potter," he said, but his voice had lost its earlier conviction. 

Harry was already turning and walking away though. "Goodbye Draco," he murmured to himself. "Nice knowing you."