A Dose Of Reality

A Dose of Reality

Part Five: The Decision

Harry's condition hadn't improved, but it hadn't worsened either. His bedside team had taken great solace in that. Madam Pomfrey seemed satisfied with his progress, but could see how frustrating it was on Ron and Hermione's faces. All she could do was give them sympathetic glances as she subjected Harry to another dose of potion, a concoction that made him splutter in his sleep, leaving Hermione to stroke his hair soothingly as he settled back down to his unconscious state. Dumbledore visited often, mainly at night to give Hermione a break. She looked an age older than she had before Harry's sudden and frightening decline.

'He's doing so much better now,' he said one night, a few days before Christmas. 'You say his shiver attacks have ceased?'

'Yes sir,' she mumbled, not lifting her eyes from Harry's sleeping form. Dumbledore watched his best student sadly; his usual twinkle was a little subdued in response to her despair. Hermione always felt her Headmaster's eyes could see through any form of concealment, piercing her inner thoughts like a knife through melted butter. His kind face now turned on her, full of seriousness and concern.

'Is there anything you want to tell me, Miss Granger?'

It may have been an optional question, but at the tone of Dumbledore's address Hermione felt compelled to answer. She couldn't hide anything from this greatest of wizards.

'The other night...' she gulped, looking at her Headmaster for encouragement. He merely continued to watch on. 'The other night, I though I heard him speak.'

'What did he say?'

'It was probably nothing... just the wind, you know? But I could have sworn he said my name. No, thinking about it, it was late and I was tired, I was probably just hearing things. Forget about it, Professor...'

Dumbledore sat back in the seat he conjured of himself, a large comfy armchair covered in a soft pattern of summer flowers and a lovingly made patchwork quilt to match. It was something out of a grandparent's living room, where you would run and hide your face from the world when the love of your parents just wasn't enough. It seemed so suitable.

'This time, Hermione, I won't forget about it. You are one of my most observant students and I feel I can trust your instincts. We cannot know for sure exactly what kind of nightmare Harry's mind is producing. We can't even say if there is some alter-you walking around in there. But he is certainly aware that you're around, and that is a positive step forward.'

He stood up, his armchair disappearing in an instant, as he advanced towards the door with slow, measured steps. He turned to look at Hermione again.

'Keep up the good work, Miss Granger. Faith can be the greatest gift of all, and that is something you certainly don't lack.'

***

They weren't quite sure how they were going to do it, they just were. The date had been set, the ritual studied to a T, their Patronus' practised, with varying degrees of success, and formed in their minds. Harry was almost looking forward to the comforting company of Prongs, and the memory he'd have to recall to bring him forward. He didn't want to ask Ron, even less Hermione, what memory or falsified dream each of them were pinning their hopes on. The expression on Ron's face when the subject was first broached, and Hermione's up in the Astronomy tower had been enough.

The arrival of the Christmas holidays had marked the start of action. Without the distraction of their Dark Arts lessons, they were able to step up their efforts enough to go ahead with it that very night. Christmas Eve. Harry was certainly planning to go out with a bang. They were going to use the Astronomy tower - being quite isolated, it meant they risked less chance of getting caught. The idea of a face-off with Pettigrew, even in his rat form, wasn't very appealing to any of them. The invisibility cloak would be an essential, thankfully still in his possession in this particular reality, apparently a frantic, parting gift from his father instead of the bequest from beyond the grave that it was back home. Not for the first time in this universe or his own, Harry wished that he still had the Marauder's map, lost in the midst of this reality by entities unknown. Harry wouldn't be surprised if Wormtail was using it to his own devious aims. Filch, his Hogwarts caretaker, would have killed for a bit of parchment like that. But Argus Filch wasn't here... Harry found himself thinking sadly of his 'favourite' squib's probable demise. To be born of wizarding ancestry but absent of their magical blood was of considerable shame in his own universe, so he didn't dare imagine what it was like in a society where even Muggle-borns and half bloods were second-class citizens. A society he was planning on abandoning.

Hermione had been strangely quiet all day, all of them keeping apart for the majority, so not to arouse suspicion of their evening activities. Ron had delved off to the safety of the Quidditch pitch with Fred and George, all left behind at the school over Christmas by a father too ashamed to allow his sons to see his current state. Mr Weasley must have been in downright torture, attempting to comply with the ministry's anti-muggle stance. Ron didn't have to say much on the issue before Harry put the pieces together: He pictured Mr Weasley, one of his favourite people in the wizarding world, downtrodden and defeated, trawling through another day in a job he now probably despised, his face aged dramatically with the effort of merely surviving. He thought of people like Hermione, probably just dragged into the school kicking and screaming to act as cannon fodder for the vile Slytherins. It didn't seem fair. It just wasn't right. Harry may have been judging the situation by his own standards, set by his own reality, but somehow, he had been unable to ignore the guilt that had begun to creep up on him. That one little change that probably made this all possible...

If Harry's parents hadn't survived that night, none of this world would have happened. He'd often wondered, in his more lonesome periods back in the cupboard at four Privet Drive, what would have happened if his parents came out of the imaginary car crash alive. What if the reality that had, up until the age of eleven, offered him nothing but loneliness was all a dream, and he would wake up and be greeted by a caring face so familiar to his own, comforting and concerned? He'd always thought of that possibly as his greatest desire, a world where he'd got lucky. But now it had been clearly defined for him, in full Technicolor, how that life would be. A nightmare. And a small voice inside of him was beginning to pick up pace, telling him he couldn't leave it like that. Even if this was a dream, he should try to change it.

The voice was silenced throughout the day as nerves began to settle in. He knew Ron and Hermione were risking everything for him - their reputations, their sanity, their lives. In this reality, they barely knew him. If this was the level of commitment he was able to command of his friends within the short time span, then in his own reality he was a very lucky individual. He made a mental note to mention that when he finally got back to where he belonged. Hermione was looking as white as a sheet as the common room began to empty, the pathetic attempt at a Christmas tree wilting sadly in the corner where a couple of second years had attempted to make it sparkle. They'd almost burnt it to the ground. It made Harry want to laugh out loud, a mad, heart wrenching sound that would have echoed round the circular room like the wind whistling around the tower, dark and foreboding at what lay ahead in the night. For the time had finally arrived.

Ron had opted for staying out that night, standing guard up the Astronomy tower so to avoid the questioning eyes of his ever-curious twin brothers. As soon as the final first year called it a night, Hermione leapt from her chair, Harry grabbed the invisibility cloak, and they both raced for the portrait hole. Harry was just about to crawl through when Hermione suddenly put a hand on his shoulder.

'Harry, I...'

She paused. She obviously had something to say, her face formed into an expression torn between uncertainty and fear at the prospect. She seemed unusually apprehensive.

'What is it?' Harry said softy, sensing her anxiety.

'It's just that... no, it's nothing. Only nerves.' She managed a weak smile that wasn't fooling anyone. Harry sighed wearily, pushing his hair out of his face. He glanced at Hermione, her eyes filling with unspoken tears as she bowed her head, ashamed of her failure to control her emotions. He seemed to know exactly what to say, taking hold of her shoulders firmly and staring straight into her panic-stricken face.

'Please, don't think I'm abandoning you,' he said in a pleading voice, as she finally raised her head and gazed right back, her eyes misty from tears. 'It's just I don't belong here. I have my own reality, and they need me. I need them. I want to stay and help, but it's just...'

'Harry,' Hermione said firmly, 'You have done more for this world than you could possibly imagine.' The smile was now genuine. He returned it.

'I just hope that when you get alternative Harry back, you'll be able to talk some sense into him. You're truly a great person, Hermione. No one should be deprived of that'

She sighed heavily. 'You can count on me.'

He smiled. 'I always did.'

And with that, he slung the invisibility cloak over the pair of them as they disappeared in the direction of the tower, and their fate.

***

Ron was lying on his bed, his book ignored as he watched his two closest friends on the other side of the room. Harry hadn't moved for days, even a basic eyelid flutter seemed beyond his physical capabilities as he sunk deeper into a comatose sleep. Hermione wasn't much better: She had taken over the bedside duties after dinner that night, as usual, but seemed edgy, jumpy even, clutching Harry's paling hand as if to let go of it would allow him to fall into the abyss. Her hair, formally bushy but now tightly controlled in a series of ringlets, was scraped back into a tight pony tail, its ends cascading into the hood of her robes and strands falling out, unnoticed. Her eyes were saucer-like, her skin pale and grey from her twilight living, sleep being a forgotten commodity in the light of Harry's decline. Ron was surprised that she hadn't fallen apart. He secretly suspected that she already had.

Ron had always been able to conceal his worries with a sarcastic joke, a play on words, a witty remark and his general bumbling nature. With Harry in this state, he'd done even more so. His sleeping friend became a silent audience for his outbursts, unknowingly recognising the genius behind it. However, while Ron always kept the faith that Harry would pull through, he wasn't so sure about Hermione. He couldn't take much more.

'Hermione,' he said suddenly, bounding off the bed and to her side in a few, easy strides. 'Its Christmas Eve! You've been at it for too long. You need a break.' He looked at her again, his eyes pleading. She didn't respond. 'Go to bed. I'll wake you if you're needed.'

'I can't sleep, Ron. Even if I wanted to. Even if I were a thousand miles away and this was all a dream. I couldn't.' the voice was small and timid, like a frightened child abandoned in this brave new world, a world that was out to terrorise her at every step. 'I should be here.'

'Hermione, you're not doing yourself any favours. You need to sleep. I'll stay up tonight...'

'No, Ron.'

'Please...'

'I said no!'

Her yell was sharp, unexpected, making the back of Ron's neck tingle with its unusual presence. She sensed her inappropriate reaction, lowering her voice to its reclusive state.

'I need to be here. I've been reading up on this sort of thing... ' Ron rolled his eyes. Typical Hermione. Staying up all night and researching all day. No wonder she looked barely alive. 'And all the books say that constant contact, company, consistent voices, are what's needed. I'm simply providing it to my usual standard.' She smiled weakly. 'Always the workaholic.'

Ron raised an eyebrow, and that was all it took for Hermione to falter.

'Oh, Ron...' she said, tears beginning to form in her cinnamon eyes, trickling down her cheeks. 'I just don't know what else to do. This is all down to luck, to hope, to possibilities. I can't leave Harry to chance, I just can't. He's too valuable to loose, and I...'

'Shush,' he said, as she finally gave into her woe and collapsed face down on the bed, inches from Harry's resting body, her sobs causing her to shake uncontrollably. 'It's all right, I understand. Believe me, I do.'

She sat up for a minute and stared at Ron, eyes wide and panic stricken. He sighed and took her other hand, patting it calmly.

'You're not fooling anyone. Especially not me. I can see it, as clear as day. If you need to be here all hours of the day, if you want to be here the way I think you do, then there's nothing I can say to stop you. I just hope that one day he'll repay the favour.'

Ron gave her hand a squeeze, let go, and was about to stride back over to his bed, calling it a night and hoping the next day's festivities would bring some much needed hope, when Hermione caught his arm again. She almost spoke in a whisper.

'Ron,' she said, 'thanks for understanding. You're a great friend, you know.' She looked down at her hands, almost ashamed. 'I just have this feeling that something is going to happen. Tonight.'

Ron almost laughed. 'Hermione, the Divinator?' he did in fact chortle. 'You're well and truly gone.' He climbed into bed and began to draw the drapes.

'It's all I've got to go on.' She said.

***

Harry's heart was pounding in his chest as he and Hermione ascended the familiar stairs to the star gazing platform. Ron was waiting for them at the door, his face relaxing at the sight of his partners in crime as they entered the tower, having faithfully setting up various bits of equipment strategically round the room. Hermione lit the candles, cupping the flame in her hand to prevent them blowing out in the freezing draught, her nerves shining, betrayed by her shaking hand. Eventually they sat down, looking at Harry expectantly.

'So what now?' Hermione whispered, staring across the darkened pace between her and Harry. He could make out her eyes in the gloom, clear as crystal.

'I came prepared.'

Harry produced a battered piece of parchment, muttered 'Lumos' to his wand and examined it in the glowing light, his face buried on concentration as he consulted the ancient text. He whispered a few things to himself, committing the words to memory. He glanced up.

'Well, providing Ron had set up the various preparation charms before we arrived,' Ron gave a nod, a little surprised at his own ability, 'Then we need to stand apart, pointing our wands at a central point and mutter the incantation. If all goes to plan, we should open up a vortex. By sending our Patronus' into it, we'll be able to shape the dimension I end up in.'

'But what,' Ron asked, right on cue, 'are we using for our central point?'

Harry strode to the middle of the room, holding his hand over the elaborate sun mosaic that adorned the tower's centre, and slowly opened his fist, allowing a trickle of dust to descend onto the floor.

'The soil of this reality,' said Hermione, as Harry stepped back into formation. 'If this is truly the corrupt reality, then its composition should be made unstable by the enchantment, so opening up the rift.'

'Sounds like an episode of Star Trek to me,' said Harry, causing the confused look on Ron's face to deepen more so, 'but trust the girl, Ron. She's never failed me before.'

'No offence, Hermione,' said Ron, a little embarrassed, 'but I'm still a little wary after that time you transfigured my nipple onto Professor McGonagall's forehead.'

Hermione went beetroot. 'Let's get on with it.'

She didn't look Harry in the eye as they stood around the sun emblem, staring at its faded gold glint, covered in the dust Harry bestowed unto its deteriorating face, years of neglect taking its toll on this once splendid room. Harry briefly recalled the hours he'd spend up here, gazing into the sky at the various formations, tracking the movement of stars across the sky at midnight every Wednesday, a memory which fiercely reminded him of the differences between the place he was heading and the one he left behind.

'Incubo Finite!' he said, pointing his wand at the soiled sun. A jet of bright pink lightning despatched itself from the tip, arcing towards the floor, lighting up his face in a frown of concentration. Now it was Ron's turn.

'Liberatas Veritas!'

A blue bolt, slightly misty at the edges, shot out directly into the centre of the sun, the floor awash with its colour as a swirling pit began to form. Hermione was forced to yell over the din.

'Emendatus Imitor!'

The final arc was brighter than the rest, a brilliant shade of green that eerily slashed across Harry's eye, widening at its sight, his darkened pupils instantly dilating as it provided the final ingredient. It arched into the centre of the formation, smoke now rising from the tiled floor as the swirl reached a roaring climactic level, casting a blue light across the three figures as they held their wands tightly.

'On the count of three!' Harry yelled over the ever-increasing din. 'One...two...'

But then he stopped. He froze, his eyes wide and astounded as we stared at a place above Hermione's shoulder, breaking his concentration as Ron found his wand, battered and bruised (probably a hand-me-down from one of his brothers) shaking like a leaf in his large dominating hands.

'What are you waiting for?' he bellowed, ignoring the shadow that temporarily blocked the glow of the vortex from his already pale face. 'Let's do it!'

But Ron was ignored. Harry yanked his wand up sharply, breaking the connection so the swirling cloud crackle and died. Sharp arcs swept back to their originators with such a force that Hermione felt the wood burning from underneath her fingers, yelping at the pain and allowing it to fall to the ground with a clatter. She felt exhausted, the magic more powerful than anything she'd encountered before. Attempting to catch his breath, Ron wanted answers.

'What the hell was that about, Harry?' he demanded forcefully. 'We were almost there!'

Harry didn't quiver underneath Ron's unusual onslaught, merely brining a finger to his lips to convey some calm, pointing to a dark shape shuffling out of the shadows that now scuttled out of the open door.

'You mean you stopped all that for a measly rat?!?' he exclaimed, astounded at Harry's apparent stupidity. 'And who left the door open? No wonder its so draughty...'

But Hermione understood instantly, as Harry made for the door. 'Haven't you always noticed, Ron,' she said as she turned to face him, 'that whenever something goes wrong, whenever we get in trouble, there's always something there, watching, spying even...'

'Are you trying to tell me there's a super intelligent rat race out there watching our every move? Pull the other one...'

'No, we're serious, aren't we Harry?' No reply. 'Harry?'

All they saw was the sweeping of a cloak before Harry began to descend the tower, literally on Pettigrew's tail. Ron couldn't even open his mouth to argue before Hermione took him by the arm in hot pursuit, as Harry took on yet another fight that wasn't his to lose.

***

Something was obviously happening. Hermione woke with a start, first cursing herself from falling asleep in the first place, then for not noticing that Harry was taking a turn for the worse. The familiar line of sweat was beginning to form across his forehead, Hermione immediately reaching for the previously abandoned cloth, ringing it out to attempt to cool him down. She felt his scar. Red-hot. Harry was shivering uncontrollably as she dabbed his face, feeling completely helpless in her bedside role as he muttered in his fever, his head rolling from side to side as his paralysis began to fade. It was as if he was trying to escape, to run somewhere, his arms rose and fell in a wild and uncoordinated fashion. Hermione watched wide-eyed as his muttering formed into audible words.

'Don't... no, let me go...'

'Harry?'

'Don't follow me... need to help...'

'Ron?' she said into the darkness. No reply. 'RON!'

'Wuwhat?'

Hermione was now sitting on the bed, holding Harry down to prevent himself an injury, her hands clamped firmly at the joints of his arms. 'Go get help! Something's happening! I think he's coming out of it!'

Ron didn't need telling twice. Hermione slung him is wand as he caught it, attempting a simple alohomora charm on the door, which surprisingly swung open.

'But I thought...'

'No matter! Just go!'

Ron dashed out the door, forgetting he was in his blue stripy pyjamas as he headed in the direction of the teacher's lounge. Hermione swung herself behind Harry, sitting up his unconscious state while maintaining her grip and rocking him slowly.

'Don't worry, Harry,' she muttered into his ear. 'Everything is going to be all right...'

***

Harry's mind had gone completely blank, engrossed in following the slightest movement as the image of the rat flicked across his taunted mind. He raced along corridor after corridor, vaguely aware that Hermione were tracing his footsteps as he moved efficiently down the hall.

'We were nearly there!' Hermione yelled, not bothering to conceal her presence, her faced etched with worry as they began to catch up. 'What do you want to get out of this? Trying to be the hero? This isn't your fight!'

He came screaming to a halt; turning on his heel to face Hermione before Ron caught up with them, out of breath and staggering up the main staircase. His face remained strong but she could see his emerald eyes failing, filling with a mixture of rage and torment.

'I can't leave,' he said bluntly. 'I can't just abandon you, and back there, I was about to do just that. If I can do anything to help, anything that could help you out of this hideous nightmare, then I'd do it. I'd do it a million times over.'

Hermione stared at his blazing eyes, dazed and utterly confused. Was he really saying this? She could feel her heart pounding loudly in her chest, only faintly aware of Ron's approaching footsteps as she tried to absorb what Harry just said.

'This isn't your battle, Harry. This isn't your reality. You don't belong here. Don't tell me you're doing this just for your own kudos, because that simply isn't you.'

Harry was silent for a moment, looking more unsure and unstable than she'd ever seen.

'No, you don't understand,' he whispered urgently. 'It's just...'

'Sorry to break up the mother's meeting guys, but I don't fancy being caught out of bed by a rodent bearing a grudge.' Ron said, finally catching up. 'So what's the plan?'

Harry's tact changed instantly, abandoning his desperation for an air of efficiency.

'Minor alteration to the evening's proceedings.'

'Yeah, Harry's decided on a whim that he fancies saving the world...'

'Hermione,' he scolded softly. 'It's not like that...'

'So what's the problem?'

'Ron,' Harry said strongly. 'Any idea where we are?' He shrugged in reply. 'Well, we're right outside the Headmaster's study. Behind that stone gargoyle. And I would bet any money that within the next five seconds, you'll finally find out who is truly ruling the roost.'

Ron looked a little wide-eyed as Harry seized the pair of them, covering them with the invisibility cloak just as the gargoyle began to shift out of place and a cloaked figure emerged.

Everyone immediately felt the chill that entered the hallway. Harry could virtually see his own breath, holding it in so not to blow their cover as the hidden figure stepped into the middle of the corridor. Its face was darkened underneath a blackened hood and gleaming red eyes were noticeable for a second before it turned its back on the frozen threesome. Harry screwed up his eyes, expecting pain beyond belief, his forehead tingling involuntarily as the punch simply failed to arrive. He brought a timid finger up to his hairline, tracing the familiar route of a scar that wasn't there. He almost willed it there. He had almost forgotten.

'Come, Wormtail,' came the voice from the hidden depths. 'This had better be good.'

'Of course my Lord,' came another from behind the gargoyle. 'Young Mr Potter will be made to regret this indiscretion most genuinely.'

The three of them watched wide-eyed as the cloaked figure, now joined by his expert spy, moved swiftly down the hall, past their shrunken figures in the doorway of a neighbouring classroom and headed straight toward the astronomy tower.

'See?' hissed Hermione into Ron's ear. 'I knew it! I knew that You-Know-Who couldn't leave the running of Hogwarts to one of his minions! I knew it...'

Harry immediately doubled back to follow the Headmaster and the spy, Ron and Hermione not even attempting to question him as they retraced their steps back to the tower. From the passing windows, the night appeared to have clouded over, the storm that had been threatening for days in its early stages. A light patter of rain was drizzling against the glass frames as they flashed right past in their flight. Hermione gripped her wand tightly as they reached the tower steps. The wind was getting up, causing an eerie whistling noise to echo up the curving stairs ahead of them.

'So, where are they?' the cold voice of Voldemort demanded, his breath almost hissing to escape his poisoned body as Harry looked round the stairs to see the frightened figure of Wormtail cowering in the doorway.

'I don't understand it, My Lord...' he stuttered, obviously afraid of the impending onslaught. 'All their belongings are here. They were too engrossed and wrapped up in their light art hocus-pocus to withdraw so suddenly. It would have drained them surely...'

'You fool!' Voldemort barked, his words forming droplets in the air as they disappeared into the freezing night. 'You useless piece of vermin! You let them get away! And now I suggest you head back to the Gryffindor tower to see if you can find them before I get too carried away with my unforgivables...'

But Wormtail wasn't quick enough: Voldemort dispersed the Cruciatus curse like a simple door locking charm. Pettigrew's squeals of pain caused Hermione to clap her hands tightly over her ears, shaking beneath the cloak and burying herself in Harry's robes while he stroked her hair reassuringly. Ron simply gulped.

Wormtail passed them unknowingly on the stairs, his face still stricken with pain as he limped down each step before transforming at the bottom, scuttling into the darkened shadows. Ron followed the rat's path and turned his eyes on Harry, who was in turn looking hungrily up the stairs. He immediately read his friend's mind.

'Oh no, you can't be serious...'

Hermione didn't dare protest as Harry belted up the stairs to the darkened astronomy tower, ever so silently closing the door behind him. She merely held in a quiet but heart-wrenching sob.