Harry Potter and the Touch of Innocence

Harry Potter and the Touch of Innocence
Chapter 3 - Dreamworld

'Do you think this will pass?' Ron emerged from the dressing room, fiddling futilely with the top buttons on his shirt.

Harry looked him up and down. 'Hmmm,' he said, narrowing his eyes critically. 'Maybe we'd better swap shirts. I'll have the green one, and you can have-'

'But I like the green one!' Ron protested, grinning. He did a little twirl in front of the mirror. 'Look - it's me.'

'No, it's not.' Harry handed him another shirt - blue this time - and pushed him back towards the change room. He sat in the cane chair next to the mirror. 'I wonder why Hermione wanted us to take three hours to get clothes. I mean, we're nearly done already, and it's not even -' he checked his watch yet again '- five-thirty yet.'

~

'Accessories,' Hermione said slowly for the benefit of her companion. 'Handbag. Scarf. Shoes. Jewelry.'

'Expensive jewelry,' Arandelle corrected, walking straight past the glass counter without a first glance.

'Not all of it,' protested Hermione. 'It's not like we're going to get diamonds or anything.'

'We're not?' I'm crushed.'

'Huh?'

'Absolutely crushed.' Arandelle flashed her a grin - a nervous grin, but a grin all the same. 'Well, what are you getting?'

Hermione shrugged. 'Something to go with my dress, I suppose ... I guess that means something red. Suggestions?"

'None whatsoever. You know I have no taste.'

Hermione made no reply. Arandelle supposed she had gone off, and looked up - only to see her staring at her analytically, as though she was deciding which pair of earrings would go with her complexion.

'Don't look at me like that!' she burst out, only half joking. 'You make me feel ... I don't know ... like I'm your doll or something, that you're dressing up for fun.'

'Oh, believe me,' Hermione said. 'This is about as fun as it gets.'

---

Dumbledore opened the dungeon door and looked outside. He frowned. 'Did you hear someone knock on the door?' he asked Snape.

'I thought I did,' Snape said from inside the dungeon. 'Isn't anyone there? It's probably just a first-year playing pranks.'

'Mmmmm,' Dumbledore agreed absent-mindedly. 'You're probably right. Keep working on the potion.'

And with that, he shut the door - not noticing the blood smeared across the floor a little further down.

---

She was dressed in blue, not white as most people in her state were supposed to wear. She looked exactly as he remembered - the same raven hair, the same piercing amber eyes. Her left arm had been changed into a phoenix wing, glowing like flames. Her expression was unreadable even as she walked towards him over air. The wind whipped around them both, making their hair and clothes billow uncontrollably.

'You didn't forget, did you, Harry?' was the first thing Arandelle said to him as they faced each other in the dream world.

'Forget what?' he asked blankly. A combination of the shadowy atmosphere, her spirit and the wind was acting like a dampener on his brain.

'You did forget.' She sounded amused.

'Then tell me.'

'I'm the One Who Lives In Dreams, Harry. I sang you the Phoenix Song once - and in doing so brought about my own death. But I can still communicate to you here.'

'What about the others?'

'If they took a moment to dream,' she replied. 'they would too.'

Harry took a deep, steadying breath. 'I don't know what to say -' he began.

She smiled, her eyes haunting. 'Tell me everything.'

'Well - we miss you,' he ventured as a start. 'Ron - Ron especially.'

'Ron,' she echoed. 'I ... I tried to warn him. I tried to save him the pain ...' Still her expression would not change from its stony calmness.

'Dumbledore wants to know how you died. He's worried that maybe Voldemort-'

'The Dark Lord?' Her voice was mockingly amused. 'Who else would it be?'

Harry was confused. 'What? You mean that it was Voldemort?'

'Yes,' she said simply. 'It was Voldemort who unwittingly released an older and greater power on us all.'

---

'Did you have to be so rough?' A hoarse voice roused Hermione from unconsciousness. She remained still, listening for a reply. And sure enough ...

'I tried to be gentle. But they must be more fragile than they look.'

'You didn't have to knock out Granger. She's just a girl.'

Upon hearing her name, she frowned. Her surroundings, while she had never seen them before, triggered something in her mind. Green and silver wall hangings, with forest green carpet. Slytherin colours - the Slytherin common room. Then, in an instant, she realised the identity of her two captors. They were the only two boys who could fit the description.

'Crabbe!' she shouted, rolling over and climbing to her feet. 'And Goyle!'

Crabbe looked startled. Goyle backed away slightly.

'You - you -' she searched desperately for a word foul enough to describe the two had created the immense pain in her heads '- braggards!'

Where did that come from? she asked herself silently, but did not pause to supply an answer. Making sure Crabbe and Goyle were a safe distance away, she knelt down to check her friends.

'Oh, Ron!' she cried, fondling the boy's head gently in her lap. He was stirring. Harry lay next to him - he was still out cold. With a grim look on her face, she pulled out the Wand of Water and brandished it in their faces, making them flinch.

'Granger, wait-'

'I don't think so!' she said shrilly. 'I don't think there's anything you could say that could stop me from hexing you to Argentina right now!'

'We were just-' Goyle began.

'Just looking for an excuse to beat us up, I'd say!' Ron had finally awoken.

'You don't understand!'

'Come on, Ron,' Hermione said. 'Bring Harry. I'm getting out of here.'

'You have to help us first!' Crabbe said loudly. Hermione stopped in midstride and turned, her hands on her hips. She frowned disbelievingly at them, and Ron voiced her very thoughts.

'Help you? Help you? You who decided to hit first and ask questions later? Why the hell would we help you?'

'It's Malfoy,' Crabbe explained. 'He's been acting really strange lately.'

'Sucks to be him,' Ron said angrily. It's not our problem.'

'He was talking about making friends with Potter,' Goyle said. And that clinched it.

Ron's jaw dropped and stayed there. Hermione gasped.

'What?' they said in unison.

'It's true,' Crabbe agreed. 'It was almost like he was de - err, del-'

'Delirious?' Hermione supplied. Crabbe nodded.

'We thought you might know something,' Goyle added. ''Cause we certainly don't.'

'This could be serious,' Hermione said to Ron out of the corner of her mouth. 'After five years and all ...'

'Maybe he's worried about karma,' Ron sneered.

'I'll go take a look. Stay here.' Hermione straightened herself seriously. Then, with a determined look on her face she said, 'I'm going in.'

---

Imogen Stretchley was a stern eyed brunette with bright blue eyes. Years under the Australian sun had created a splash of freckles across her nose. She was very averagely heighted - her trendily short hair accenting it even more. And she was sitting at the desk in her apartment, trying to dismantle a kettle when the phone rang.

'Yeah?' she demanded, clutching the phone between her chin and her shoulder and going back to her kettle.

'Imogen, it's me,' came Lupin's voice across the wires.

'Oh. You.' She was barely paying attention. 'Where've you been this week?'

'Away,' Lupin said nervously.

'I see. Away.'

'Yeah ... um ...' In Professor Shamrock's - the Muggle Studies teacher - office, Lupin wound the phone cord around his fingers. 'Do you have any of those lyrebird tail feathers left?'

She frowned in concentration, jabbing around with a screwdriver. 'I might. They're not cheap you know, Remus. You can't even get them here.'

'Well, it's kind of important if that makes any difference to you.'

'Uh huh. Important. What do you need it for?'

'A potion,' Lupin said, hoping she wouldn't ask for any more details.

'Since when were you ever a potion brewer? You can't even make tea properly.'

Lupin blushed. 'I don't drink tea.'

'Yeah, but I do.'

'Lyrebird tail feathers, Imogen. Please. Don't start listing my faults.'

She sighed amusedly. 'Okay. I was just curious. Don't chuck a sad.'

'A - a what?'

Secretly grinning at his confusion, she said, 'I'll get the feathers. You can pick them up at any time - I live in the same apartment you do, remember?'

'Unfortunately,' Lupin muttered to himself. Fortunately for him, Imogen didn't hear.

'See you later, man,' she said and hung up.

Professor McGonagall smiled at Lupin as he, too, hung up the phone. The werewolf's forehead was lined with a thin bead of sweat.

'So that's Imogen,' McGonagall said.

'That's Imogen,' Lupin agreed, though less enthusiastically.

---

Malfoy was sitting on the end of his own four-poster bed. His legs were crossed at the ankle and were swinging back and forth energetically. Even his hair was abnormal - instead of the being slicked back with unusually large amounts of grease, it was spiked up. Hermione had to admit that the hairstyle was an improvement - although the leg swinging had to go.

'Malfoy?' she offered tentatively. Goyle stood behind her, large frame slumped in helplessness.

'Granger? What are you doing here?' Instead of a scowl, a bizarre smile came over his face. 'I was just thinking about you.'

'You - you were?' she squeaked. A sudden, horrible thought came to mind. 'You're not in love with me, are you, Malfoy?' she demanded.

'In love with you? Of course not! Don't be stupid.' Malfoy stood up and walked across to her.

She didn't know whether to feel flattered or offended. 'Do you feel okay?' she asked, now thoroughly worried.

'Not really,' he admitted after a moment's consideration. 'No. I feel sort of strange.'

Hermione hesitated, then reached up with a hand to feel his forehead. He didn't feel hot - but maybe she was flushed. 'Maybe we should take you to Madam Pomfrey-'

'No!' Malfoy gripped her wrists tightly and making her flinch. 'No! I won't let you! You can't take me to the Hospital Wing!'

'Let go of me, Malfoy!' she said sharply. He relaxed his grip slightly. 'What's wrong with going to the Hospital Wing, Malfoy?'

'You can't let them know I'm sick,' he said.

'Why not?'

'You can't. Do you hear me?' He gripped her chin with between two fingers. 'Do you hear me, Granger!'

Hermione was startled. Something was very wrong. Not even Malfoy was this strange.

'We're not going to the Hospital Wing,' she said, as calmly as she could. 'Is that okay?'

'It's better.' He paced the area in front of her like a tiger. 'I'm hungry. I feel like a Sugar Quill. Don't happen to have a Sugar Quill, do you, Granger?'

'No ...' she replied slowly.

'Damn,' was Malfoy's reply. 'Goyle? Got a Sugar Quill?'

Goyle spread his hands in apology.

'You people are all useless. Is there some sort of Sugar Quill shortage around here?' he exclaimed in exasperation. 'Where's Weasley when you need him? He's always stuffing his face with sweets - maybe he has one ...'

She took a deep breath. 'Malfoy,' she began.

He stopped his pacing. 'Yeah?'

'I want you to tell me - err - what you're feeling at the moment,' she said, wincing at her professional tone.

He stared into her brown eyes. 'What I'm feeling? I'm feeling hungry, that's what I'm feeling.'

She grimaced. This was turning out to be more of a challenge than she had expected. 'I mean-'

His gaze turned icy. 'I feel like I'm being eaten away on the inside. That's what I feel like. I feel like something is consuming me, filling up my insides with shadows.'

He smiled weakly at her. 'Although, it might be just because I want a freaking Sugar Quill!'

'No - no - I think we were onto something there,' Hermione said breathlessly. 'That was good. What else are you feeling?'

'Like my doom is so near I can almost reach out and run away with it,' Malfoy said flatly. She looked up at him quickly to see if he was joking. His expression was deadly serious.

'I mean it, Granger. I feel like - I don't know - like I was on a ledge above a lava pit, and I was slowly walking towards the safe end. Then there was this giant earthquake or something, and I'm hanging right above the lava, about to fall in.' He scratched his head. 'Does that make any sense to you?'

She nodded. 'But you can't actually tell what it is that made you slip?'

'If I could, I'd just be in rehab, not in the padded room,' he replied. 'I was hoping that you might be able to help.' His grey eyes were helpless.

Hermione swallowed hard. He'd been her enemy for five years, and now he was her friend. Was this some kind of trick? But the victim did not justify the deed, she remembered. She would be wrong to turn him down.

'I'll help,' she promised. 'Harry and Ron, too.' She smiled reassuringly as she could. 'Whatever it is, we'll figure it out.'

---

Ron and Crabbe stared at each other across the room. Ron's eyes were narrow, suspicious while Crabbe simply looked bored. Harry lay limp on the floor at Ron's feet, still unconscious.

When Hermione returned from Malfoy's dormitory, Ron stood up in relief.

'It's a scam, right?' were the first words out of his mouth.

Hermione shook her head. 'No. I think it's for real.'

She smiled as he stared at her, debating whether his trust for her was greater than his suspicion. 'In all the years I've known you, you've never been wrong,' he concluded after a moment or two. 'I suppose it comes down to how much I believe in the saying "there's a first time for everything".'

'Oh, Ron,' Hermione said exasperatedly. 'Don't you trust me at all?'

'Don't say that,' Ron said. 'It makes you look like you're desperate. And Grindelwald knows you're anything but that.'

'I'll take that as a yes,' she replied before he could change his mind. In one swift move, she was in the seat next to him. She quickly explained what she'd heard from Malfoy.

'That's ... bizarre.' Ron struggled to get used to talking off-handedly about Malfoy. 'But if you say so-'

'Which I do,' Hermione put in. 'And have done for the past five minutes, if you'd been listening.'

'He's still a rat faced prick as far as I'm concerned,' Ron said.

'Ferret, Weasley,' Malfoy drawled as he came into the room, but he was smiling. 'Get it right - for my sake if not your own.'

He offered Ron a hand. 'No hard feelings?'

Ron glared at the hand as if it was diseased. Hermione sent him a withering look, and he shook it. 'No hard feelings,' he grated between his teeth. 'At least, until we get this figured out.'

'How's Potter?' Draco asked.

'Still out,' Ron reported. 'Looks like they socked him a good one.'

'We need to get to Dumbledore's office,' Hermione said. In response to Ron's glance, she mouthed, 'To give him the Wand, remember!'

'We can take him like this,' Crabbe said in his rumbling voice. 'We don't have to wait.'

'Alright,' Hermione relented somewhat reluctantly. 'Just be careful with him, okay?'

'Sure,' Crabbe said. He picked Harry up like he was a handful of sand and tossed him over his shoulder. Harry's limbs hung slackly. 'Let's do this than, shall we?'

---

'It's considered to be one of the great Evils of the world.' Arandelle explained. 'I don't know much more than that ...' she hesitated 'There are some things I can't tell even you.'

Harry nodded. 'The great Evils,' he repeated carefully. 'I'll tell Dumbledore. And Ron,' he added. 'I won't forget.'

'Voldemort must be stopped,' she said urgently. 'He doesn't know what he has - not fully. No one can completely control it and he doesn't understand that. It will not stop when he wants it to. Even now it strays outside of his will.'

Harry hated that his blood warmed to the challenge. Hadn't he always wanted a normal life? 'How can it be stopped?'

'Ask Dumbledore. He will know.' She paused, before continuing. Her voice became strained as if she was speaking with great difficulty. 'It will target the people it thinks are the most danger to it first. They will - fall - one by one - and ...' She stopped, clearly exhausted. She said, 'I'm sorry,' and Harry knew that she would say no more on the topic. He nodded.

'It's okay.'

Arandelle reached across the space between them with her one arm. 'You're special, Harry, did you know that?'

He felt himself blush. Even here he could not rid himself of his embarrassment. 'Am - am I?' he stammered.

'You're an anomaly. You're one to whom things happen. You carry the lives of a million people on your shoulders without knowing it.

'Tell Sirius to keep you safe, away from the shadows that would have you destroyed. Tell Hermione-' She stopped again. 'No. She needs to hear that from me.'

In the silence that followed, Harry thought quickly. 'Is - have you seen Cedric?'

'Cedric Diggory?' She nodded. 'He doesn't blame you in the slightest, Harry. He knows it wasn't your fault.'

Harry was only slightly comforted. 'He didn't have to die. I suggested that we take the Cup together.'

'Do you know what?' Arandelle snapped suddenly. 'Do you know what he was thinking when he died?' Harry opened his mouth but she continued on without a pause. 'He was wishing that he had thought of taking the Cup together. He wished that it was his idea. He admires you more than you can believe, Harry. He thought you were more of a Hufflepuff that night than he had been in his entire life.'

'If that's making those kind of mistakes is what it takes to be a Hufflepuff,' Harry said bitterly, 'then I'll go and tell the Sorting Hat to re-sort me.'

'Don't you dare.' Then, more gently, 'You know, your parents are here. In my world.'

---

Dumbledore looked Snape over with a scrutinizing eye. 'You know, Severus,' he said amiably, 'you look almost like you can't wait to get away. I'm not that bad a Headmaster, am I?'

'It's not you,' Snape said. Then, in unison with Dumbledore -

'It's Lupin.'

'Why are you still agonized over him?' Dumbledore asked, amused. 'It wasn't his fault that he got bitten by a werewolf ('Are you sure?' Snape muttered under his breath. 'He's actually not that intelligent.') and you didn't even get hurt from that - err - accident. What's the problem?'

'You don't really forget it when someone tries to kill you, Headmaster,' Snape snarled. 'Grudges like can - and should - die hard.'

'I see ... and that's it, is it?'

Snape said nothing.

'Well,' Dumbledore said slowly. 'Once I perform Astringo Sententia on you two, you should have no problems-'

'What?' Snape demanded. 'You wouldn't!'

'Wouldn't I?' Dumbledore's eyes twinkled and suddenly every faith that Snape had ever made shuddered and imploded.

At that moment, the object of their conversation strode into the dungeon. 'Everything ready?' Lupin asked breezily, ignoring Snape's looks of disgust. He peered over the side of the cauldron and observed the pearlescent liquid bubble merrily.

'Yes, everything's ready,' Snape snapped. 'No thanks to you, I might add.'

'Actually, we're still waiting on Mr. Potter and his friends to bring us the Focus,' Dumbledore corrected.

'And, as we all know, they're just about as reliable as you are, Lupin.'

'I'm ... err ... glad to hear it,' Lupin said.

The door opened again and another figure strode in, immediately evoking two very different reactions.

'Padfoot!' Lupin exclaimed. 'Glad you could make it, old friend.'

'You ...' Snape scowled, though the expression looked at home on his face. 'We meet again ... unfortunately.'

'Unfortunately for whom?' Sirius asked, grinning as he and Lupin grasped each other's wrists in greeting.

Dumbledore ignored Snape. 'You two will be linked together through Astringo Sententia so that you can communicate with each other,' he told the two friends.

'Sounds like fun,' Lupin said, also grinning.

The dungeon went quiet as they heard murmuring outside. Footsteps grew closer and closer until the point where whoever it was would've been standing right next to the door. Then -

The door splintered and fell as Crabbe put his foot through it.

'Sorry,' the adults heard him grunt. 'I couldn't get it open - my hands are full.'

In strode Crabbe with Harry in his arms, closely followed by Ron, Hermione and Malfoy. Snape immediately went to say hello to his favorite student but Draco, in his new madness, edged uneasily away from him. Crabbe gently placed Harry on the floor, taking extra care this time.

Ron thrust the Wand into Dumbledore's hand. 'Here,' he said. 'The Wand of Air.'

Dumbledore gazed at the Wand with reverent affection. 'It seems a pity to use such a unique possession for such a spell. At least, I suppose it is worth the price.'

---

Harry's heart skipped a beat. 'Have you-'

'Seen them? No. To go back that far, I would have to sacrifice most of my memories of your world. And I don't know if I could do that willingly.'

'I understand,' Harry said, though inside he hated her for it. Immediately, he reprimanded himself - it wasn't her fault. His insides burned at the thought of seeing his parents again - no, that wasn't it. The fire was filling his whole body. At that moment he realised that he'd been cold.

Arandelle watched him with detached emotion. 'It's time to go, then,' she said sadly. 'Remember what I told you. Remember to tell Dumbledore, and Ron, and Sirius.'

'I will,' Harry promised, but the world was already fading from his mind.

'I'll see you again, Harry,' Arandelle said. 'I wish-'

---

And then she was gone, and his eyes fluttered open.

Dumbledore was muttering incantations over the cauldron. He was holding the Wand of Air in his right hand and it sparked and bristled at him. As he held Arandelle's Focus over the potion, Harry realised what was going on.

And why he had to stop it.

'No!' he yelled, jumping to his feet. Hermione gasped. 'Don't put it in, Professor!'

Dumbledore looked startled. 'Why on earth not, Harry?'

'You're wasting it! We might need it for something else!' The room wavered in Harry's mind but he planted his feet firmly into the floor.

'But - don't we need it to find out-'

'Never mind that,' Harry said. 'I know what killed Arandelle Winters.'