A Feather of Time

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A Feather of Time Chapter Five: Believing in Dreams

"The thing always happens that you really believe in;

And the belief in the thing makes it happen."

-Frank Lloyd Wright

***

When Harry was eight years old, the Dursleys took him to a theme park for the first time. Mrs. Figg had caught a cold and was unable to look after him, so they had no other choice but to bring him. Dudley had screamed, kicked, and even punched a hole through a window, but it had made no difference. They couldn't just leave Harry at home, and no one else was available. Harry had noticed that this seemed to happen to him a lot. There would be no one to look after him, and he would end up going with them. And he had also noticed that it almost never turned out well for him. He figured that this time was going to be just the same.

Uncle Vernon was not in the best mood by the time they had gotten to the theme park, due to the fact that Dudley had complained about his seatbelt being too tight the entire way there. Aunt Petunia had cried, and cursed all of the companies that had made the seatbelt, promising Dudley that she would write to them the very next day. Uncle Vernon had simply frowned, his knuckles going white on the steering wheel. And, as usual, Harry was ignored.

Harry was never paid any attention to, so he didn't mind. Especially not this time, when it was becoming increasingly difficult not to laugh at the Dursley's actions. But seven years with the Dursleys had taught him two very important lessons: never laugh and never ask questions. He had learned the first one the hard way when he had laughed at Dudley one afternoon. Though he couldn't remember what had been funny, the days locked in his cupboard with no food for six days were imprinted in his memory. Six days! Harry winced at the memory.

But now...now he was going to a theme park. Harry had been excited for one of the only times in his life. He had heard Dudley talk about it, and now he was going to see it for himself. His excitement mounted as he thought about all the rides, all the people, and all the new experiences!

At last, they arrived at the theme park. The memory of the actual day was all a blur to Harry now, but one part stood out clearly in his mind.

Dudley had convinced his parents to let him go on the bungee-jumping ride, which was a fifty-foot drop with only a harness. His mother got very tearful at the very idea, and when he was actually up above her, she simply fainted. Harry watched closely as his cousin was hoisted into the air, finding it fascinating. At the last moment, however, Dudley bailed out, and was carried back down to the ground. Harry looked at his aunt and uncle.

"Er...Aunt Petunia? Uncle Vernon?"

His aunt and uncle turned to him, both scowling.

"What is it, boy?" spat Uncle Vernon, his face red as a beet. Aunt Petunia was glaring at him from behind Uncle Vernon, as though it were his fault that Dudley had been scared to jump. Harry took a deep breath. If they took this wrong, then he would spend the next week locked in his cupboard.

"I...I mean...may I go on the ride instead of Dudley?" he asked quickly. They looked at him, totally shocked.

"Of course not!" squealed his aunt. "You, in the place of Duddy? I think not!"

Uncle Vernon looked enraged. "The nerve...you'll think twice about this next time, mark my words boy! I'll make you wish that you had died with those good-for-nothing parents of yours!"

Harry felt his blood pounding in his ears. He felt the same way he always did whenever the Dursleys mentioned his parents: angry. He would have shouted back if it hadn't been for the hand that suddenly gripped his shoulder.

Harry spun, looking up at the tall man that had suddenly appeared next to him. He had long, blonde hair that was tied back in a messy ponytail and sparkling brown eyes, which were narrowed at the Dursleys. When he spoke, his voice was deep.

"Why shouldn't he go? Just because his cousin was a wimp doesn't mean it's his fault," he said, glaring sternly at Uncle Vernon.

Uncle Vernon turned the color of sour milk. "HOW DARE YOU!" he exclaimed, causing a few birds nearby to squawk and take flight. "How dare you barge into our private conversation? You have no right...no right at all!"

"I do!" exclaimed the man, looking just as angry. "Unless you let him ride, I'll report you to Social Services. You don't seem to be looking after this boy very well!"

"Oh...go on then," muttered Uncle Vernon, interrupting the man. Apparently, Uncle Vernon did not want to mix himself up in such things. Harry was then whisked off to an elevator, where the kind man took him all the way to the top.

The man's name was Dave, and he told Harry that he hoped the Dursleys wouldn't give him any more trouble. Harry, being only eight, didn't reply. Instead, he took in everything.

At last, the elevator reached the top. They stepped out onto the platform, which was swaying with the wind. Harry's eyes went wide with fright, and he gripped the man's hand very tightly. They reached the harness, and Dave looked at Harry.

"Still want to go, do you?" he asked over the wind.

Harry nodded tightly. Dave then began to strap him in. Finally, he said, "Okay, Harry, on the count of three, I'm going to let you go. Ok?"

Harry held onto Dave very tightly.

"Harry..." said Dave, leaning down and looking him in the eye. "I want you to trust me. Trust me Harry. I won't let you fall out."

And he hadn't.

***

That memory of Dave kept replaying in Harry's mind as he fell. Trust me, Harry. I won't let you fall... Harry had been falling for what felt like forever. He had looked at his watch after a few minutes, and then remembered that it had broken the year before. So, there was nothing to do but close his eyes against the darkness and think.

Harry thought of Dave, and the way that he had trusted him. That had been his first experience of anyone ever asking him to trust them. He thought of Dumbledore, the first person he had thought to have betrayed him.

Dumbledore...Dave...Lupin...Sirius...all the people that he had ever trusted ran through his head. Harry suddenly wondered if he was dead, and if his life was flashing before his eyes. He shook his head, disposing of this thought immediately. He opened his eyes once more, straining to see anything in the shadowy depths of darkness around him.

The strange thing was, Harry thought, that because there was no change in scenery (it was all black all the time) it appeared that he was not moving. The only thing that gave him the sensation of falling was the slight flipping of his stomach. He could have been floating in midair and wouldn't have noticed. In fact...Harry looked around and wondered if this is what it would be like to live in Azkaban. Suspended in darkness for your entire life. Swamped by all the horrible thoughts and feelings that you had accumulated over the years.

What would his be? Harry's immediate answer was his parents' death. But then, he thought of Cedric's death, of Voldemort's resurrection, of all the times he had let people down. He thought of Ron being angry with him, and thought of all the cruel things Malfoy had shouted at him.

Harry shook himself firmly. Even if this dreaded fall was like being in Azkaban, that didn't mean he had to dwell on the bad thoughts and feelings he had experienced.

At least Harry had his good thoughts with him.

Harry forced himself to think of all the good times that had passed. He smiled as he thought of Sirius Black, and how Harry had felt when he realized he had a godfather. He remembered all the snowball fights in the bitter cold with the Weasleys, and laughed as he thought about the snowballs the twins had enchanted to bounce off Quirrel's turban in first year. His mood dampened in thinking about Quirrel, but was quickly rejuvenated by the idea of being in the bustling Burrow once again. His smile threatened to fall off his face as he recalled all the wonderful Christmases he had spent with Ron and Hermione at Hogwarts, and all the brutal chess matches he and Ron had shared.

His thoughts trailed off. Harry began to fell the cold serpent of doubt wind its way around his heart. He began to question whether Dumbledore had been correct in his directions. In fact, he began to doubt if Dumbledore's was actually himself. The knot in his stomach grew more pronounced as he looked around him. Nothing had happened for...Harry didn't know how long it had been. It could have been a second, or a month, or an eternity.

The silence in Harry's ears was deafening, and it felt as though he were flying through space and time. Darkness closed in all around him. As he breathed, it found its way into his lungs, choking him from the inside. He suddenly felt the need to come up from air, as though he had been underwater for too long. He kicked his legs, and his mouth gulped soundlessly. His eyes popped, and no breath entered the now still mouth. The un-seeing eyes widened as a hastening feeling passed through his useless body. Then, the feeling of rushing downriver in a high wind took him, and he saw the body he called his own twisting and turning of its own accord. Above himself, he watched in amusement, laughing at the antics he went through. He felt no pain, outside himself. How could he? There was nothing left to feel. Then, with a gasp, the two halves merged, and he became himself once more, but only to fall through a hole in the nothingness.

***

Harry regained consciousness just before hitting a hard stone floor.

Oh dear.

THUMP!

Harry hit the ground with tremendous force. The impact knocked the wind out of him, and he lay there for a few moments, seeing stars and winking in and out of reality. At last, he raised his head, leaving a slight trail of blood (his nose was bleeding horribly) and looked around him. It was not at all where he had meant to be.

Harry was not, as he had assumed, at the Burrow. In fact, he was rather far from any of the Weasleys, unless they were secretly Death Eaters and wanted to wipe out the Muggle population. Given Ron's relationship with Hermione, Harry doubted it somehow. He was next to the fireplace of Borgin and Burkes, a very morbid store smack in the middle of Knockturn Alley. Harry had been here once before, in his second year, and at first glance it didn't seem to have changed much. Sure, there were even more gruesome skulls in his collection, and a few more items that had curses on them, but mostly the shop was its old dusty self.

Harry quickly sat up, scanning the room for shoppers. To his relief, it appeared that he was alone. For the moment. Standing up carefully, he reached up to push his glasses back before remembering that he didn't have them anymore.

Good, thought Harry. Slightly more incognito than before.

Harry flattened his fringe, and then cautiously began moving toward where he thought the door might be. The shelves towered over his head, and then leaned towards him near the top, threatening to tip all of their contents onto some unsuspecting customer. Eerie noises sounded from the dark spaces between shelves, and the spaces seemed to go past the wall and into some unknown passageway. A loud screech made him jump out of his skin, but looking up, he realized that it had only been a parrot. The bird was looking at him out of large, red eyes, and its head was cocked to one side. It's once bright plumage of blue and orange was now matted and dull. It watched him closely as he walked along the aisles, trying desperately to find a way out.

Then, he heard voices. He stopped abruptly, crouching in the middle of the walkway. There were two voices, and they were coming nearer. Harry was about to run when he realized that they were not, as he had assumed, coming down his aisle. Instead, they were in the passageway next to him. Both people came to a halt right near him in the consecutive aisle. He recognized both voices at once.

"You are wasting my time, Borgin," came Lucius Malfoy's voice. "I already told you I'm not looking for anything usual. This particular...item...is very rare. You must know of what I want?"

There was a slight shifting sound, and then Mr. Borgin's oily voice sounded. "Master Malfoy...the item you speak of is dangerous. Very dangerous. If I gave it to you, it would land both of us in serious trouble with the Ministry..."

"I don't care about the Ministry you idiot!" hissed Lucius, cutting Borgin off. "You know who I am and what I can do. I can worm my way out a situation like that."

"You can, possibly, but I can't!"

"I can clear both of our names, Borgin. Now listen. I need that Vita Edera charm fast! Now that Harry Potter has slipped out of our grasp once more, there is only one more thing to do. Bind him to us when he least expects it."

Harry jumped at the mention of his name, and then sifted through his memory, trying to find any trace of the charm Vita Edera. Cursing himself for not paying more attention to Professor Flitwick during Charms, Harry listened on.

"Do you really mean to bind the Boy Who Lived to the Death Eaters Lucius? Do you really think that that is wise? I mean to say, he is under such diligent protection from the Ministry and from Dumbledore himself..."

"Dumbledore is not an issue," said Lucius shortly. Harry could almost feel Borgin's look of astonishment.

"My dear Master Malfoy, Dumbledore is always an issue! He is the most powerful wizard in the world! I mean to say, if you really---"

A thump suddenly sounded from the aisle. It sounded as though Lucius had just thrown Borgin against a shelf and was holding him above the ground. Borgin began to choke.

"Never...EVER...say that again, Borgin," hissed Lucius coldly, rage resounding in his voice.

"S-say w-w-what...L-lucius?" whimpered Borgin.

"Dumbledore is not the most powerful wizard in the world. Voldemort is! If you are truly a supporter, let me never hear you mutter that sentence again. We swore to go to Azkaban before denouncing Voldemort, and here you are insulting his name on a daily basis! Traitor," Lucius spat through his teeth. "I will not be buying that charm from you today, Borgin. Not unless you renew those vows."

There was the sound of someone hitting the floor, and Borgin whimpered. "Yes Master Malfoy...I will renew the vows."

"Kneel then."

"I...Bartemius Borgin, owner of Borgin and Burkes in the vicinity of Knockturn Alley, descendant of Esmerelda Borgin, do solemnly swear to live and die by His name, and to utter His name every moment that I am living, and to never denounce nor insult him, as long as I live. I swear to go to Azkaban rather than give away anything about the Plan, and swear that my days will be useful to the Plan, and that my life will be devoted to Him. This I solemnly swear by Voldemort's name. My blood is weaker than His blood, the Plan is more important than my soul. This I swear on my blood."

The sound of a knife being drawn echoed around the room, and then Borgin gasped in pain. He stifled it quickly, and then stood.

"As I was saying, Master Malfoy. Our Vita Edera charms are of very rare quality, and they should be right over here, in the deadly charms section..."

The voices trailed off. Harry stood there for a few minutes, running the conversation through his head. What was a Vita Edera charm used for? What did he mean, 'Bind him to us when he least expects it'? And what was the Plan? Harry's head spun as he walked onwards, turning over the scene again and again in his mind. Perhaps Hermione would know...

Harry began to pass a few familiar landmarks, such as the candle in the hand (The Hand of Glory) and the cabinet he had hid in a few years before. The aisles began to get more shadowy, and Harry had the distinct feeling of someone watching him from behind. Could it be Lucius or Borgin? He kept turning around suddenly and scanning the darkness, trying to catch them unprepared. But then he would dismiss it as nothing. And yet...

Harry began to speed up. The hairs were now standing up on the back of his neck, and he turned around every five seconds, just to be sure there was nothing lurking in the shadows. The aisles became darker and darker, and Harry began to run faster and faster. He had to find the doorway soon...a bell began to toll from behind him. Its low gong resounded around the room, echoing off of the walls, making it sound as thought it were coming from all sides. Frantically, Harry counted the tolls. 12. It was noon. Or midnight. Harry sped up.

He stumbled over something on the ground...looking down he saw the bleached bones of a human skeleton. He stifled a cry, and began to run again. Breathing quickly, he sprinted on. A strange ticking began to sound from above him. He tried to outrun it, but it seemed to be coming from everywhere at once. Panting, Harry glanced above him. His eyes searched for the sound of the ticking, beginning to panic. There were no clocks. There were only strange, dead creatures floating in glass jars and skeletons propped up on sticks. The ticking grew loud and impatient. Harry's eyes roved frantically around the shelves, concentrating high above him...

WHAM!

Harry ran right into someone, knocking them over and causing a few bottles on the shelves to go flying. With a crash, both of them fell into one of the shelves, books falling onto their heads. Harry struggled to pull himself up, and looked down into a very bemused face.

"Malfoy," said Harry incredulously.

Draco Malfoy pulled himself up out of the rubble and gazed at Harry through his gray eyes. He didn't seem to be a bit surprised to see Harry there, nor did he seem to be at all uncomfortable. In fact, his posture stated him to be perfectly at ease. Harry thought this to be highly unlikely, and watched him closely. Malfoy daintily brushed his white-blonde hair out of his eyes, and gave Harry an indifferent look.

"Hello," he said loftily, suddenly appearing to be looking down on Harry even though they were the same height. "Dare I ask what you are doing here? In the middle of Borgin and Burkes in Knockturn Alley?"

Harry didn't say anything. He simply scowled.

"I see," said Malfoy raising one eyebrow. "Well, given the circumstances, a few explanations present themselves. One," he ticked off a finger. "You are running from Voldemort, who chased you into this shop after threatening to resurrect himself again, which he seems to do very often. Two, you are secretly an undercover Death Eater working for Voldemort and are here to buy supplies. Which is highly unlikely due to the fact that it would ruin your reputation at the Daily Prophet and cause mass suicides among your cult members. Three, you are doing a news report on the unhealthy conditions of the bathrooms in stores in Knockturn Alley. Four," he looked around. "You have a very unusual obsession with dead animals floating in mucus."

Harry stared at him. "What?" he asked.

Malfoy heaved a sigh. "No one understands my humor," he said mournfully. Harry glared at him.

"Shut up Malfoy," he snapped. "What are you doing here anyway?"

Malfoy suddenly looked guarded. "I'm on an errand," he said. "I am out...buying things."

Harry looked at him closely. He was lying, that much was obvious. He was with his father, and they were buying this...Vita Edera charm. Whatever that was. Before he had a chance to whip back a comeback, he heard footsteps coming up the aisle next to them. Malfoy looked up, listening intently. "That'll be Mr. Borgin and my father," he said quietly. Harry looked at him. Would Malfoy give him away? There was no doubt about that. Especially since he was on his father's side.

Mr. Borgin's oily voice rang out from the aisle. "Master Malfoy?" he called. "Are you there?"

"Wretched boy," muttered Lucius. "Always getting lost. Probably cursed himself on some book in here."

Malfoy's breath caught for an instant, but then it was gone.

"Draco!" called Lucius. "Where on earth are you, boy?"

Harry and Malfoy locked eyes. Harry was challenging him to speak; Malfoy was challenging him to run. They stood like that for a while, caught up in a silent struggle of will. At last, Malfoy turned away.

"If I didn't want to beat you so badly at Quidditch while you are still alive, Potter, you'd be dead," he whispered, moving aside. Harry looked at him closely before deciding that he wasn't lying. Malfoy disappeared into the next aisle, and Harry gaped after him. Barely believing his luck, Harry ran down his own aisle, looking neither right nor left until he was fully out of the store.

***

"Harry!"

Harry whipped around, confused. He had just entered Diagon Alley, and it was now 2 o'clock. It had taken him two hours just to find his way out of that confounded place. It wasn't as if he could just stop and ask for directions. He had tried once and...Harry shuddered. But now, he had arrived in Diagon Alley, and was thinking about lunch more than anything.

"Harry love, over here!" came the voice again.

Peering on his tiptoes, he managed to make out Mrs. Weasley and Ginny waving madly from the steps of Flourish and Blotts. He attempted to wave back, succeeding only in whacking an elderly wizard on the nose and causing him to curse at Harry in German.

Apologizing profusely, Harry pushed his way through the surging crowd towards them. At last, he reached the steps and clambered up them. He was instantly gathered up in a bone-breaking hug from Mrs. Weasley, who proceeded to sob hysterically. He awkwardly patted her on the back, not quite sure what to do.

"Oh Harry dear, we were so worried!! So worried!! When we had heard..." she burst into tears again. Ginny finally managed to disentangle her from Harry, and she wiped her eyes. "Come in, dear, we'll talk inside..."

Harry followed her up the uneven steps of Flourish and Blotts into the stuffy interior.

Flourish and Blotts seemed to have gotten even more stuffed with books since Harry was last here. There was now a display case of 'The Liquid Book of Liquids', which seemed to only be holding brownish water. A few harassed-looking assistants were trying to separate one book from the next, but they were failing miserably. Harry stifled a laugh.

Once inside, Mrs. Weasley squinted at Harry's nose.

"Oh you poor dear, you broke it!" she exclaimed, fishing in her pocket for her wand. Harry was shocked. He broke his nose? But it had just been bleeding slightly... Mrs. Weasley waved her wand and muttered a few words. Harry felt the bones in his nose grind back into place, and winced at the sound. Mrs. Weasley shook her head.

"How on earth did you do that, Harry?" she asked, now fussing over the state of his shirt. That huge rip in your shirt...and your broken nose! What happened?"

Harry shook his head slightly, not wanting to voice what had happened right then, as it wasn't even clear to him. He then scanned the room, looking for the rest of the Weasleys. His face lit up as he spotted Ron and Hermione in a corner, discussing a book. He dashed over to them, politely brushing off Mrs. Weasley as he went.

"Oh Harry, thank goodness you're alright!" exclaimed Hermione upon seeing him. "We were so worried about you!"

Ron turned to him, looking incredibly relieved. He grinned at Harry, apparently happy beyond words. Hermione hugged him and kissed him on the cheek, then pulled him off to the bookshelf she had been at.

"Look at this Harry...they came out with a new version of Hogwarts, A History! And...see this! They acknowledged me! Remember that note I wrote to the editors, asking them to put in house elves? Well, they took it seriously, and published a revised version! Isn't that wonderful? See here, on page fifty..."

Harry smiled down at Hermione, but his thoughts were elsewhere. Ron suddenly gripped him on the shoulder. Harry looked at him, and Ron nodded. He cleared his throat.

"Er...Hermione..." said Ron tentatively.

"Yes?" snapped Hermione, looking annoyed.

"I...I think Harry might not want to hear about Hogwarts right now. I think he might want to tell us what happened to him."

"Oh..." said Hermione, looking highly embarrassed. "Right."

Harry shook his head, however, as Ginny had just come over and joined them. She gave Harry a quick hug before addressing all of them.

"Mum says we should get moving...we're Flooing back home. Harry, are you okay? Do you need anything?" Ginny looked concerned. Harry shook his head, and attempted a weak smile.

"I'm fine Gin...I've just gone through a lot in the past few hours..."

Ginny nodded as though she understood, and then led them over to the fireplace of Flourish and Blotts. Mrs. Weasley looked around at the small group assembled before her.

"Good...good. Everyone here. Harry, you first dear..."

She lit a fire with her wand and handed Harry some Floo powder. Harry walked into the fire, took a deep breath and yelled 'THE BURROW!'

He then began to spin very fast, his elbows tucked tightly at his sides and his eyes shut.

***

Harry stepped out of the Weasleys' fireplace into their living room, smiling around at the people assembled there. It surprised even him that he didn't fall out of the fireplace like he usually did. Perhaps he was getting used to Floo powder at last. Harry counted heads in the room. They were one short...

Dumbledore. Harry's smile faltered. Of course Dumbledore wasn't here. The full force of what he was thinking hit him in the face. What was he doing, standing here like an idiot? He needed to tell everyone...needed to get help to Dumbledore as quickly as possible! He opened his mouth to speak when the very tall, unknown wizard stood up and took his hand.

"Hello, Harry," said the wizard, who had an especially deep voice. His Scottish accent was highly pronounced, and Harry was reminded strongly of Oliver Wood. "My name is Mundungus Fletcher. I work with Mr. Weasley, and I was a good friend of your father's. He was a great man, just like you, Harry. Awfully brave, the both of you." Mundungus's face broke out into a smile.

Harry shook his hand. "Very pleased to meet you Mr. Fletcher," he said calmly. Mundungus's brown hair was cut in a very boyish way, reminding Harry of the small Muggle children he used to see going off to Stonewall Preschool. He was very thin and wispy, but the way he shook Harry's hand told him that appearances were deceiving. His eyes were a light brown, and they sparkled as he spoke. All together, Harry decided that he was a favorable man.

Ron and Hermione had appeared at the fireplace. At last, all of them were together. Harry took a deep breath.

"Listen, everyone, I need to tell you all this," he said loudly. The room instantly fell silent, every pair of eyes boring into his. "I have just seen...and heard...a lot. I would like to relate all of it to you now, otherwise I will forget it, and if I did we would lose a great deal of information. So please listen to my story."

And they did. For over a quarter of an hour, Harry talked into rapt stillness. He was interrupted a few times by Mrs. Weasley giving great sobs and the rest of them gasping. At last, Hermione burst into tears and hugged Harry tightly.

"I'm so glad you're okay," she muttered into his shoulder. Harry looked at Ron for guidance. Ron shrugged. 'It's not like I know!' he mouthed at Harry. So Harry awkwardly patted her on the back until she drew back. She then went back to Ron, her eyes flooding.

Everyone in the room then hugged Harry, including Mundungus Fletcher, which was a bit surprising, as he had just met the man. Harry held his breath during this hug, as it appeared that Mr. Fletcher had an unusual liking for cologne that smelled strongly of floral arrangements.

After Harry had been hugged breathless, he turned to face the multitudes, a newly formed plan in his head.

"I have an idea," he said. "But first, I think we should look over the crime scene."

People started moving towards him at once, so he held up a hand. He was surprised to see that they stopped. "Well...I thought that Ron, Hermione, Sirius, Professor Lupin and I could investigate first," he said quietly, hoping that they didn't take this the wrong way. Suddenly, his eyes locked with Ginny's. Ginny looked hurt, but hid it, smiling at him. It was a desperately forced smile, and Harry quickly reprimanded himself. "Oh, and Ginny as well," he added, smiling at her. She instantly brightened, and came running across the room to him.

***

A few minutes later, the group was walking down one of the many corridors in the Weasley's house. Harry and Sirius led the way, trying to retrace their steps. This was difficult, as Dumbledore had taken them to a place in the Burrow that neither had been before. Ron and Hermione followed, conversing in low voices. Ginny and Lupin brought up the rear, discussing the benefits of learning Defense Against the Dark Arts. Sirius suddenly halted, causing a domino effect to ripple backwards in the line. At the end, Ginny barely avoided being knocked to the ground.

"What is it, Sirius?" asked Harry, coming level with Sirius. Sirius was sniffing the air.

"We found the trail," he growled. Harry looked around. Everyone here knew that Sirius was an Animagus...if he remembered correctly.

"Sirius," said Harry quietly, "Why don't you turn into Padfoot? It would make tracking Dumbledore's scent much easier."

Sirius nodded curtly, and transformed. Ginny gasped slightly, then composed herself once more. Harry felt a hand on his shoulder. Looking up, he saw Lupin looking extremely proud.

"That was a good idea, Harry. You would make a good Auror..."

Sirius then cut Lupin off by turning back into himself further down the hallway.

"Here it is, Harry," he called, looking into a dark doorway. Harry ran over, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Lupin on his heels. It was indeed the very same room. Sirius had muttered, 'Lumos', and Harry quickly recognized it. The same moth-eaten gray armchair pulled up in front of the green couch. Harry sighed, and looked around. Nothing appeared to have been disturbed.

"Right then," he said, taking a deep breath. "Let's each take a section. Hermione, you look over in that corner. Ron, you take the couch. Sirius, you take that corner..."

***

They had been looking for over a half an hour, and Harry's spirit was fading.

Harry began to wonder if it was really worth it to look. But then, he thought of Dumbledore, and chastised himself for thinking that it wasn't worth it. Dumbledore's life was worth even his own. So then, with renewed vigor, he began to search again. But after a while, his actions of sweeping became mechanical, and he began to think that there really wasn't anything here. Why would Death Eaters be stupid enough to leave tracks? Then, when it was looking completely hopeless, Hermione sang out.

"I found something!" she cried, sounding excited. "It was stuck to the bottom of the chair!"

Harry was on his feet in an instant, running across the room. Hermione was holding something that was glinting in the light.

"My god..." whispered Lupin. "That looks like a..."

"But it can't be!" interrupted Hermione. "There's no way they could have-"

"Never underestimate a Death Eater's mind, Hermione. This could very well be their secret weapon."

There was now a small huddle around Hermione, and everyone appeared to be deeply intrigued. Harry pushed his way through the crowd, and then gasped. She was crouching near the armchair, holding up something to the light. It was a golden chain, a necklace of some sort. But it wasn't the chain the Harry was astounded by. It was the small hourglass on it.

She had found a time turner.