Lumos Obscurum

Chapter 9 - The Dream

"Friends?" Ron shouted. "Friends?!"

"No, I didn't say that," Harry said hastily.

"You're friends with Draco Malfoy? I think I need to sit down," Ron said faintly.

"You are sitting down," Hermione pointed out.

"Oh. Good for me."

It was late in the evening and nearly everyone had gone to bed. But the three Gryffindors were seated at the table in the Burrow kitchen, which was lit dimly by a few lanterns scattered about.

"I didn't say that we were friends," Harry repeated. "I only said that we've decided to sort of call a truce."

"But you are friends," Ron insisted. "You must be. I don't know why I didn't see it before. That's why you ran off with him instead of playing Quidditch with us."

"You did?" Hermione looked imploringly at Harry. "When was this?"

"You were there," Ron growled at her. "But you were too busy with that damned book of yours to pay attention to anything else."

"It's really quite good," Hermione said loftily. "The chapter on Parliament is really-"

"Nobody with a life gives a hoot about Parliament, Hermione-"

"Hush, the both of you," Harry said and turned to Ron. "Ron, I didn't not want to play Quidditch with you and Charlie and Ginny. I just sort of... felt bad for him, that's all."

"Oh, that's all, is it?" Ron said sarcastically. "You just felt bad for him."

"Yeah," Harry said defiantly. "Yeah, I did."

"You felt bad for the person who has made our lives miserable for the past five years."

"Well, yes."

"You felt bad for the person who's idiot of a father tried to kill Ginny."

"He's not his father, Ron."

"He's a bloody Death Eater, that's what he is!"

"He's not!" Harry said. "I asked him."

"You asked him?" Ron said incredulously. "And you expected an honest answer out of the wanker?"

"No... yes... I don't know!" Harry was very exasperated with the whole thing. "I do know that he wasn't lying, he was telling the truth."

"How? How do you know?" Ron demanded.

"I just do," Harry said boldly. "And if you don't believe me, then... then... you're not being a very good friend, are you?"

"Oh, so now Malfoy makes a better friend than me, does he?" Ron glowered dangerously at Harry.

"Harry, Ron," Hermione cut in. "Please, just stop."

Ron rounded on Hermione. "Didn't you hear what he just said to me?"

"Yes, and maybe he's right." Ron spluttered furiously at this but Hermione continued before he had the chance to form words. "It's Harry's business who he does and does not want to be friends with."

"We are not friends," Harry said crossly.

"Well you're bloody acting like you are!"

"No - it's just... I can't explain it. Things are different now. I think... I think we've both grown up a lot in the past few months."

"Oh I see," Ron said sardonically. "Well why don't you and Malfoy just go do your grown-up things together and don't worry, me and Hermione will be over here, playing our little kid games and sucking our thumbs."

"No, that's not what I meant," Harry said quickly. "It's only... with everything that's happened with... you know..."

Ron glared. "So you can talk to him about what happened last year, and not us, is that it?"

"No... yes...." Harry sighed.

Ron stood up abruptly, knocking his chair to the floor. "We were there, Harry. We were the ones who went with you to the Department of Mysteries, in case you've forgotten," he said, his voice ice cold. "We're supposed to be your friends. But if you can talk to Malfoy about it, and not to us... well, I guess you were right. I guess we aren't very good friends, after all."

He stormed from the room, and Harry slumped dismally back into his seat.

"That didn't go well, did it?" he muttered to no one in particular.

"No, it didn't," Hermione agreed, looking at him with sympathetic eyes.

Harry leaned his head back and stared at the panelled ceiling. "I don't know what he expects of me. I mean, I wouldn't care if he made other friends..."

"It's just the fact that it's Draco Malfoy that's got him upset," Hermione said rationally. "He'll come around eventually, I'm sure."

"And what about you?" Harry looked back down at her. "Do you hate me as well?"

She shook her head. "Of course not, Harry. I can't say that I understand the situation, though," she said, rather carefully. "You and Malfoy have never gotten on before now."

"I know," Harry said. "But I think it's like what I said before, about us growing up. Not to say that you and Ron aren't," he added hastily. "It's just... Malfoy understands... certain things."

Hermione nodded but still looked bemused.

They sat in silence for a long moment, before Harry finally broke it:

"Hermione," he asked her suddenly. "Have you ever heard of such a thing as a Genupaean?"

"A Genupaen? Oh yes," Hermione leaned forward, eager to change the subject. "I've read all about them. They're really rare, roughly one born-"

"-every quarter of a century," Harry finished slowly.

"Why, yes," Hermione said in astonishment. "How did you know that, Harry?"

"Um - just a bit of random trivia I picked up somewhere," Harry said, trying to sound casual. "Go on."

"Well, because they're so rare, there've only been a small number of them recorded in history. But from what I've read, they're really quite impressive. They do the work of twenty St. Mungo's Healers, for example, in about a fourth of the time. And," she added," they don't require a wand. The magic is all in their touch."

"So," Harry continued, forcing his voice to remain nonchalant. "Hypothetically, if Voldemort managed to get his hands on one of these Genupaean people..."

"Let's hope he doesn't, Harry," Hermione said seriously. "It'd be disastrous for us. Any spell or hex we'd cast on him or his Death Eaters would essentially be rendered useless. All he would have to do is get his Genupaean to cure them, and in a few seconds, they'd be good as new."

"That's true," Draco's voice startled them both. They whipped around and saw that Draco was standing in the doorframe. How long he had been there Harry didn't know. "But it'd be quite good for torturing as well. Imagine if he captured one of you. He could torture you to his heart's content, and then make his Genupaean fix you right up so that he can torture you all over again. It'd be endless," Draco said gravely.

Hermione looked nearly sick at the idea of eternal torture. "And... and how do you know about all this?"

"Just something I picked up somewhere," Draco said offhandedly, folding his arms against his chest.

Hermione's eyes narrowed ever so slightly, gazing at the two boys suspiciously.

"I didn't see you, Malfoy," Harry said to him. "Er- how long have you been standing there?" he asked, fearing that he heard the argument between him and Ron.

"Not long," Draco said breezily, heading over to the counter. "Just came to get some tea to help me get to sleep."

"Tea sounds nice. I'll boil some water," Hermione said, looking grateful for the distraction.

Harry, feeling as though he shouldn't be sitting idly while his companions worked, went over to the cupboard and withdrew three mugs.

"So what made you ask about Genupaeans all of a sudden, Harry?" Hermione asked curiously from the stove.

Harry glanced nervously over at Draco, but the other boy did not meet his gaze. "Er-" he started. "I thought I just heard somebody talk about it in passing," he lied. "And I was just wondering about them"

"Who was it?" Hermione asked keenly. "Was it a teacher? Or Dumbledore? Maybe another one has been uncovered. Professor Binns mentioned last year that the last one in existence died over 30 years ago... should be about time for another one to surface, shouldn't it?"

Harry threw Draco a panicked look, but Draco ignored him and calmly brought an assorted tray of teabags over to the table and sat down. "If there is another one," he said evenly, "there's a good chance that we'll never hear about it. If you'll recall what Binns told us, Granger, the last few all resided outside of Europe."

Hermione looked at the blond Slytherin with some surprise. "You pay attention in History of Magic?"

"Only for the important stuff," he answered easily.

Hermione looked delightedly at Harry as she brought the boiling water over to the table. "Harry, maybe this is a good thing after all," she said happily as she poured the steaming water into their mugs. "Maybe spending a little time with Malfoy will teach you to finally pay attention in class."

Draco looked over to Harry at last and smirked.

***

A small flock of owls appeared at the kitchen window one morning, all with letters bearing the Hogwarts seal in their beaks.

"Finally, our Hogwarts letters are here," Ginny said, jumping up from the table and retrieving them. "They keep arriving later and later every year, don't they?"

She distributed the letters to everyone sitting around the table, which included Harry, Hermione, Mrs. Weasley, and Ron (Mr. Weasley was at work, and both Charlie and Draco were still asleep). There had been an uncomfortable silence between Harry and Ron for the past few days, and Hermione was in a bad mood because she was caught in the middle of the entire thing.

"I was wondering when they'd come," Mrs. Weasley said. She had been cheerfully ignoring whatever new spat Harry and Ron had gotten themselves into. "We can go get your school things at Diagon Alley today."

At that moment, a yawning Draco Malfoy stumbled into the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "What are those?" he asked as he caught sight of the scattered parchments on the table.

"Hogwarts letters," Harry said. "We're going to Diagon Alley today."

"Oh good," Draco said, picking his letter up and looking it over. "I've been needing a new supply of - er, potions ingredients."

"Potions ingredients?" Ron repeated, lifting an eyebrow sceptically. "Don't you mean you've been needing a new book on the Dark Arts, since you've already worn out all your other books on the subject?"

"Ronald Weasley," his mother said severely. "That'll be enough out of you."

Ron didn't take his eyes off of the pale Slytherin. "Notice how he doesn't deny it, Mum."

"Ron," Hermione said nervously, while Ginny looked back and forth between the two boys with wide eyes. "Ron, maybe we'd better drop it."

"Sure, take his side," Ron said angrily. "You're always taking somebody else's side just so you can argue with me."

"I do not," Hermione said, her face flushing.

"Ron," Mrs. Weasley said, even more strictly. "That's enough. Go get the fire started."

"But Mum-"

"Ron." Mother and son stared each other down, and Mrs. Weasley won, just as she always did. Ron, with one last glare at Draco, left the kitchen, kicking his chair irately on his way out.

Ginny was still standing in the middle of the kitchen, looking as if she wasn't sure what to do, and Harry was slumped down dismally in his seat.

Mrs. Weasley stood up and pushed her chair in. Well," she said to all of them with a forced smile. "Let's everyone finish their breakfast before we leave. Draco, there are some eggs left in the frying pan on the stove. I'm going to wake Charlie to let him know where we're going."

She left the kitchen and Draco silently grabbed a plate and scooped some scrambled eggs onto it before taking a seat at the table beside Harry.

The remainder of breakfast was spent in an awkward silence, and Harry picked at the rest of his eggs and toast glumly.

In a few minutes, Mrs. Weasley returned to the kitchen and ushered them all into the living room, where Ron was waiting beside a cackling fire with his arms crossed and his face twisted into a deep scowl.

Mrs. Weasley took the flower pot off the mantle and opened the lid. "Off we go then, come on," she said impatiently, shoving the pot at Ron.

Ron took a pinch of the Floo powder and tossed it into the fire. The flames sprung up and turned green, and Ron stepped forward into the fire shouting "Diagon Alley!" with unnecessary force. Then he was gone.

Harry was next. He took a handful of Floo Powder and repeated Ron's actions. He soon found himself sprawled on the dusty floor of the Leaky Cauldron. He coughed the soot out of his lungs as he struggled to his feet. Ron was standing a few feet away and made no move to help Harry.

Draco was next out of the fire, somehow managing to land on his feet. As he was brushing the dirt from his blond hair, Hermione arrived next, then Ginny, and lastly, Mrs. Weasley.

The group, with Mrs. Weasley leading the way, went outside the back door into the small alleyway. Mrs. Weasley took out her wand and tapped the bricks in the appropriate order, and the gateway from the Muggle world to the wizarding one opened.

The first stop Mrs. Weasley led them to was Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, because Ginny had outgrown her old ones. While Ginny was in the back of the shop busy getting measured, everyone else waited in the front.

Draco gave a loud, bored sigh, and Harry poked him.

"Ow," Draco said, tossing Harry a quick glare.

"You're being rude," Harry hissed at him.

"I want to go look at the brooms," Draco replied sulkily.

Harry rolled his eyes. "You're acting like you're four."

"That's his emotional age, remember?" Came Ron's cool voice. He was standing nearby, Harry saw, and he must've been listening to what they were saying.

Draco sneered at Ron and was about to reply, but Harry poked him again.

"Don't," Harry said, feeling a headache coming on as he walked over towards where Mrs. Weasley was examining some dress robes.

"Stop touching me, Potter," he heard Draco's irritated mutter behind him.

"Mrs. Weasley," Harry said loudly as he approached the woman. "Malfoy and I are going to the broom shop. He and Ron are giving me a headache."

"Maybe that's a good idea," Mrs. Weasley said, casting a concerned look over to where Draco and Ron were arguing. "If we don't see you sooner, meet us in the Leaky Cauldron around five for dinner."

"Okay, Mrs. Weasley, thanks," Harry agreed.

He went back over to Draco and Ron, and grabbed Draco's arm, pulling him away mid-sentence. "C'mon," Harry said. "We're going to look at the brooms."

Draco lost his bad mood immediately and let Harry lead him out of the shop.

"That's right, Harry," Ron called after them. "Go on, go play with your new best friend."

Harry tossed a glare over his shoulder. "I wouldn't have to if you two weren't bickering every hour of the day."

The door slammed shut behind them and Harry added under his breath, "This is a bloody nightmare, this is."

Draco only said merrily to him, "I told you it would be like this, Potter, if you dragged me to live with them."

"Come off it," Harry grumbled. "I know you were just as happy as I was to be rid of the Dursleys."

They made it to the broom shop and went inside, but Harry saw with a little disappointment that no new broom models had come out on the market yet. He didn't really mind, though, as his Firebolt worked just fine.

He found Draco in an aisle examining Quidditch gear. "Look at these," Draco said, holding up a pair of goggles and peering at them curiously. "Just came out on the market. Charmed to repel rain, sleet, ice, snow, and small fuzzy animals."

"Too bad they aren't charmed to spot the Snitch for you, Malfoy," Harry couldn't resist saying.

Draco glowered darkly at him as he replaced the goggles on the shelf.

"As a Malfoy, I should ignore that," he responded, his voice quite calm. "But as a Slytherin, of course, I'll manage some sort of revenge."

"Sure you will," Harry said. "C'mon, let's go get our school things."

They set off down the street, stopping in various stores for the various supplies they needed including Flourish and Blotts for their new schoolbooks, and the Owl Emporium to buy some owl treats for Hedwig.

The sun was high in the sky as they made their way through the busy street to find a place to eat, their arms now full with shopping bags. To their left, a big crowd had formed around one of the smaller shops.

"Wonder what's going on over there," Harry said inquisitively as he peered over the heads of the people in the crowd to try to see what they were so enthused about.

"Dunno," Draco said unconcernedly and he poked through one his bags. "Drat, I think I left that eagle feather quill I bought on the counter of that shop... I'm going back to get it. Wait here," he ordered, his voice rather loud in order to be heard above the hoard of people.

"Yeah, whatever," Harry said vaguely, for he thought he finally figured out what all the commotion was about... but no, it couldn't be. Could it?

Harry pushed his to the front of the crowd and saw there was a booth set up in front of the brightly coloured shop. And behind that booth was someone very familiar to Harry. Even though his back was turned, Harry could recognise the fiery red hair and the stocky build anywhere.

"Fred?" he called over to him, unsure which twin he was looking at.

The twin in question heaved a deep, annoyed sigh. "For the last time, I'm George, not Fred. What do we have to do, charm it on our foreheads - Harry!" George had turned around and his irritated tone of voice immediately changed to one of surprised delight.

Harry smiled sheepishly. "Sorry, George, your back was turned..."

But George wasn't listening, he had turned to the crowd of people around the booth and held up his hands. "Sorry, folks, sorry, closing for lunch! Come back in an hour."

The crowd groaned but George continued, "I mean it. Come back in an hour... and we'll have free samples of our Bogey Boxes for everyone!"

The crowd's mood took a visible turn for the better, and they dispersed.

George looked at Harry merrily. "C'mon then, Harry, come into the shop. Fancy a spot of lunch?"

Harry stomach growled at the thought of lunch and he grinned. "Sure."

He and George went into the shop, which Harry could see was filled with about a dozen shelves, all teeming high with an array of Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes products. "Oi!" George bellowed across the room, and the customers inside looked startled. "Oh twin of mine, where are you?"

"What is it?" Fred stood behind the counter at the end of the shop. "Has Mr. Drooble arrived to discuss our contract?"

"Nope!" George said cheerfully. "Even better. Look at who finally came to pay us a visit!"

Fred took a better look at George's companion, and his mouth fell open. "Bless my soul!" he said. "It's not Harry Potter? The Harry Potter?" He leapt over the counter and seized Harry's hand, shaking it with great enthusiasm. "I have prayed for the day," he said dramatically, "where Harry Potter came to visit our simple little selves. Catch me, George, I may faint!"

Harry, who was very red, said, "Alright, that's enough Fred, I get the point."

Fred gave a great gasp and clutched at his chest. "George, he knows my name! This is indeed a miraculous day!"

Harry twisted his way out of Fred's grasp as George chuckled. "Alright, already!"

Fred finally dropped his act and beamed at the shorter boy. "Only teasing you, Harry."

"I've invited Harry for lunch," George told his brother.

"Oh, is it lunchtime already?" Fred asked, carelessly glancing over at a clock hanging on the wall to Harry's right. The clock was modelled off of the one the Weasley family had at the Burrow, and Harry could see now that the lone hand on it was pointing at, "Yes it IS lunchtime, you unobservant twat!".

"Right then," Fred said, pointing his wand at the counter, and a sign saying "Out to lunch" popped up on the register. "Let's head upstairs then, shall we?"

Fred and George led the way up the staircase, which Harry had not seen before now, and they arrived in a comfortable looking space that looked to Harry it functioned as a living room.

"Welcome to our humble abode," George said proudly. "Through that door is my room," he said, gesturing. "The one next to it is the bath, and the one next to that is Fred's-"

"Lee stays over sometimes, but we usually make him kip on the couch," Fred said fondly.

"-and the door straight across from you is the kitchen."

"Though," Fred added, "we usually just order take-out." He leaned in and a deliberately loud whisper said, "George fancies the delivery witch."

George only lifted his head and smirked at this without any shame.

The twins led Harry over to the couch and he sat down. George, with a wave of his wand, conjured up a plate of sandwiches and three cups of tea.

Harry took a sandwich of the tray, but stared at it hesitantly.

"Don't worry," Fred said, correctly guessing what he was thinking. "We wouldn't hex our benefactor, would we, George?"

"Most certainly not," George said, taking a bite out of his own sandwich.

Harry bit into his sandwich, chewed slowly then swallowed. When nothing out of the ordinary happened, he ate more eagerly.

Fred let out a soft snicker, but when Harry looked at him, he quieted immediately and whistled an innocent tune. Harry looked at him suspiciously, but kept eating.

"Now then, Harry," George leaned in. "What brings you to our part of the alley?"

Harry swallowed a bite of his sandwich. "That massive crowd of people!" He grinned. "So you're having success, then?"

Fred nodded. "Couldn't ask for anything better," he said happily.

"And you, Harry, are our full partner," George said while Fred nodded. "So you will, of course, get a cut of the profits."

"No, there's no need," Harry said at once. "Really - I don't need any more money than I've already got."

"But Harry-" George started.

"You heard the man, George," Fred cut in easily. "Whatever Harry says, goes."

Harry laughed. Fred certainly hadn't changed, at least.

"I'm here with Ron, Ginny, your mum, and Hermione," Harry said, changing the subject. "Your mum didn't say anything about your business being this huge."

"No, she wouldn't," Fred said darkly. "Doesn't approve of it."

"Never even came to visit," George said.

Harry frowned. "She hasn't visited yet? Well I'm sure she'll stop by today."

"She's in a right state about the whole thing," Fred said, shaking his head. "Because we didn't stay at Hogwarts to take our N.E.W.T.s"

"But honestly, we've no need for them," said George. "Why waste our valuable time with that rubbish, when we could be off wreaking havoc and destruction? You know, useful things like that."

"Exactly, dear brother, exactly," Fred nodded fervently.

They finished their lunch, and Harry said, "I guess I should be going. Dr- uh, my friend I'm here with will be wondering where I am."

"Your friend?" George repeated suspiciously, casting a significant look over to his twin.

"A girlfriend, perhaps?"

"Do tell."

"A girlfriend? Far from it," Harry said in disgust. "Really, guys, I have to get going. Thanks for lunch, though."

The three of them went downstairs, through the shop (the clock on the wall now read, "Get back to work, slackers!"), and through the front door.

"Feel free to stop by anytime, Harry," George said to him. "You're always welcome here."

Harry felt a rush of gratitude. "Thanks, guys." He stepped outside the shop and found Draco waiting for him on a nearby bench.

"Honestly," Draco said as Harry approached. "I've been waiting ages... his voice trailed off as he got a good look at Harry.

"What?" Harry asked.

"Potter," Draco said slowly, staring at Harry's head. "Why is your hair blue?"

Horrified, Harry reached up and felt through his hair with one hand. He whipped around and went right back into the shop. He stood in the doorframe with his hands on his hips, and a glare on his face.

"Yes?" said Fred angelically, although there was a smirk playing about George's mouth.

Harry pointed sharply to his hair. "Fix it."

Fred complied with a wave of his wand.

Harry still glared at them both. "What was all that, then, about not hexing your benefactor?"

The twins exchanged glances. "Well," George shrugged. "We figured, what the hell."

Harry sighed.

***

"C'mon, Potter," Draco said impatiently. "I waited what must've been a good hour for you. The least you can do is come get my supplies with me."

Harry stared up apprehensively at the "Abandon hope, all ye who enter here," sign above the entrance to Knockturn Alley.

"What kind of supplies?" he asked warily.

"Nothing you need worry about," Draco said smoothly. "Come on, it won't take long at all."

"I don't know if this is a good idea..."

"What, are you scared or something? This coming from the boy who practically begged me to teach him an Unforgivable-"

"Alright, alright," Harry hushed him quickly. "Don't go shouting it around."

Draco smirked and with a flourish of his robes, entered the dingy alleyway. Harry trailed after him.

The mood here was significantly darker than that of Diagon Alley, and Harry wasn't sure he liked it.

Draco, however, strode confidently along the street, nodding to certain people here and there, and Harry made sure to stay close to him.

"Would you like some, my dear?" An old witch to his left cackled at Harry as he passed. She shoved a tray full of something greenish-brown into his face, and the strong odour coming from it caused Harry to feel nauseated. "Only five Sickles!"

"Uh, no thanks," he stammered, and hurried to catch up with Draco. "What was that stuff, Malfoy?"

Draco glanced back at him. "I don't think you want to know, Potter."

Harry decided to take his word for it.

A few minutes later, Draco turned and entered a shop, and Harry followed. It was horribly dank inside, and there was an odd smell in the air. Draco went straight to the counter and conferred quietly with the decrepit wizard behind it.

Harry stood off to one side uncomfortably, looking around the shops. There was an array of dusty books stacked up on shelves that reached to the curved ceiling. Stacked high to his right sat a pile of newspapers. Upon closer look, they were not, as he originally thought, copies of today's Daily Prophet, but were instead the evening editions of some paper called Good News for Wizards Who Love Bad News.

The thing that caught Harry's eye, however, was a large, ornately carved bookstand. The title of the book sitting on it was: How to Betray Your Friends and Turn to the Dark Side in Ten Easy Steps.

Harry blinked, not sure what to make of it. He peered closer and saw that it was open to: "Chapter 5: Why Dark Lords Really Aren't That Bad - An Informative Essay by S. Auron."

Draco came over before he had a chance to read any further. Harry looked up and saw that Draco was tucking a few large bottles of something into his robes. Draco looked over Harry's shoulder at the book. "Planning on turning to the dark side, Potter?" he asked lightly.

"No," Harry said firmly.

Draco gave him an appraising look. "Hm," was all he said before he walked out of the shop.

Harry ran to catch up with him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Draco shrugged. "Only that for someone that's so against Dark wizards, you're well on your way to becoming one."

"I am not!" Harry protested.

Draco shrugged again. "Casting curses... turning your back on your so-called friends... wandering about Knockturn Alley..."

"I'm only 'wandering about Knockturn Alley' because you dragged me here," Harry said in anger.

Draco looked thoughtful. "Yes, I suppose I did."

"And I have not turned my back on my friends," Harry said hotly. "It's only because of you that Ron and I are fighting."

Draco merely gazed serenely at Harry and they walked the rest of the way in silence. Harry was relieved when, after a short time, they found themselves once again in Diagon Alley.

"So are you going to tell me what it is you bought, then?" Harry asked.

"Don't worry about it."

"I want to know!"

"Honestly, Potter, don't you ever let things go?" Draco rolled his eyes. "Fine, if you must know..." he took a bottle out of his robes and handed it to him. "It's only my hair care product."

Harry stared at the bottle label in disbelief. Indeed it was.

"You had to go all the way into Knockturn Alley," Harry said slowly. "Just for a bottle of hair care product?"

"It's a rare brew," Draco snapped. "It uses Doxy eggs, which are a Class B Non-Tradeable Substance. That is the only shop that carries them, so only they can make my hair products. Besides," he sniffed. "Mr. Brakiss is an old family friend, and I wouldn't trust my hair with anybody else."

Harry handed the bottle back to Draco and resisted the urge to sigh. "C'mon, we're due to meet everyone for dinner."

***

A week passed, and as much as he used to enjoy spending time at the Burrow, he found that he really wasn't enjoying himself right now. Harry and Ron still hadn't made up, so Harry found himself spending his free time with either Draco or Hermione. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley tried again on numerous occasions to have a talk about Siri - about what happened with Harry, but luckily he was always able to find a quick escape.

So, on the night before they were to catch the Hogwarts Express at King's Cross, Harry was relieved that he was finally heading back to school.

He laid down to bed that night and fell asleep to Draco's snores, with his heart considerably lighter than it had been the entire summer, and one thought lodged in his head:

He was going back to Hogwarts tomorrow, his real home. Everything would be okay again.

***

He blinked and looked around, trying to bring his eyes into focus. He was sitting on something soft... and he was surrounded by... fire? No, he was just seeing the bright colours of red and yellow. Although that latter was a deeper shade than a normal yellow colour... it almost looked gold. Oh, that was probably because it was gold. He suddenly realized that he was in the Gryffindor boy's dormitories at Hogwarts, sitting on his bed.

But that's not right... he hadn't even returned to the castle yet. How could he already be in his room?

To his right he heard a strange sort of sound. He peered over and saw that Draco was laying down on the bed that usually belonged to Ron., casually tossing a small Snitch up in the air, and singing softly to himself. It was an odd melody... rather detached. Yet it had a certain flow to it, and it sounded soothing to his ears. Harry frowned with concentration, trying to make out the words to the song... "Can't run... can't hide... going to find me... can't scream... can't shout... total control..."

The song faded out with those last words, and Draco stood up from Ron's bed, the golden glint of the Snitch disappearing from his hand. He started walking... or perhaps gliding would better describe it, to the closed dormitory door. Draco pulled on the handle, but the door didn't budge.

Harry too stood up from his bed.

"Where are you going?" he asked Draco, his voice distant.

"Away." Draco tugged on the door once more. "But I can't seem to get this open. Can you help me?"

"Don't go," Harry said.

"Can you help me?"

Despite the fact that he didn't want to, that he wanted very badly for Draco to stay, Harry's feet moved toward the door. He reached out with one hand, and easily opened the door for Draco. It swung open with a squeak and Draco gave a nod.

He started to leave, but Harry grasped his thin shoulder with one hand. "Why are you leaving?"

Draco turned and looked Harry straight in the eye. His face was expressionless and Harry felt a chill run through him. "Don't you know?"

Harry wordlessly shook his head.

Draco gestured to the open door in front of them. "You're the one who opened it. It's your fault."

"My fault?"

Draco wriggled out of Harry's hold with ease. "Goodbye."

Draco left, and the door closed behind him with a sharp click, his final statement of "Goodbye" resonating in the air around Harry.

Goodbye....

Goodbye....

It's your fault.... Goodbye...

"No!" Harry ran forward and threw open the door, intent on going after him. But as he stepped out into the corridor, he saw no sign of Draco. It wasn't the normal hallway outside the dorm. This hallway was filled with large closed doors on either side that seemed to go on for eternity.

"Draco?" he called. "Where are you?"

But it was no good, and Harry knew it. Draco had gone.

He looked around desperately. Just as he was wondering what he was to do, he heard murmuring coming from his right. A red haired, black clothed figure was approaching; it was Ron. The boy drifted across his path, his attention focused at some point in front of him. Harry's heart leapt when he saw him.

"Ron!" he called.

Ron, much to his disappointment, didn't seem to hear his cry. He had passed him now, and was murmuring quietly to himself: "The house elves can't manage on their own, someone needs to give them cheese. Or a nice cucumber. But do cucumbers even have ears?"

"Ron!" Harry called again.

Ron was about to disappear into the shadow. Harry started to panic, he couldn't let that happen! "Ron, please!"

Ron, at last, halted and acknowledged Harry over his shoulder. "What?" he snapped.

"What... what's happening?"

Ron didn't answer Harry's question. Instead he said, "He was in my bed, wasn't he?"

"Yes," Harry answered automatically.

"I see," he said, then started walking away again.

"Ron!"

"Leave me alone."

"Ron!" he shouted again.

Ron, now just a pinprick in the distance, turned to one of the thousands of doors in the wall, opened it, and disappeared through.

"Ron, come back! Ron, please..."

"You'll never get anywhere like that," somebody said calmly at his side. He looked. Hermione was standing there.

"Hermione!" he said in relief. "You'll help me, won't you?"

"No," said Hermione mistfully.

"You won't?" Harry asked, a feeling of betrayal stirring inside him.

"No. You don't need my help. You don't need anyone's help," she continued, a dreamy expression on her face.

"But I do!"

Hermione tilted her head and frowned, as if she were reconsidering the situation. "Well, perhaps you need help now. You are only a little boy, after all. But soon you won't be." Then, before giving Harry a chance to respond to this cryptic statement, she turned her face to the wooden ceiling where a dark cloud was gathering above their heads. "Ah," she said vaguely. "It's beginning." And she vanished in the blink of an eye.

"Hermione..." he started weakly.

He gazed up at the dark cloud apprehensively and then started walking forward... first slowly, looking around him... doors... doors everywhere he turned... all closed... some of them even sealed with big heavy padlocks with chains running the whole length of the wall...

He ran. He ran quickly and blindly, the doors and gold flashes of the locks now simply a blur at his side, the heavy black cloud was chasing him... hunting him.... An intolerable roaring was growing in his ears... he ran... faster and faster... he couldn't hear... he ran... trying to escape... trying to leave the long hallway behind...

There was suddenly a great silence and he was free of it. The seemingly infinite hallway was finally behind him... but replaced by a dark and silent void. The only sound was the occasional breeze whispering past his ears, brushing against his body causing him to shiver even though he was wearing his heavy robes.

The void was all around him. There was nothing... nothing more than darkness and silence and gloom and-

"You think you know."

Harry snapped around. His godfather was standing a few feet in front of him, amazingly looking alive and unscarred. "S-Sirius?" he said uncertainly. "How... what?" Then Sirius' words registered with him. "I think I know what?"

"You think you know," Sirius repeated, "what's to come. Who you are. But you haven't even begun."

"Maybe I don't want to know," said Harry uneasily.

"You must. Otherwise, all is lost," Sirius said. His voice was echoing eerily in the dark shadows surrounding them. "Goodbye," he said, an echo of the simple statement Draco had made earlier. Sirius turned and began to drift away from Harry.

Harry tried to leap after him, but his feet were glued to the floor. "Sirius! No, please don't go."

"But I must. I have my destiny, just as you have yours. Now go fulfill it. You want to save that friend of yours, don't you?" Sirius' voice was nothing but a whisper against Harry's ear now. His dark figure was fading from sight. Going... going...

Harry blinked and looked around. There was nothing now but dark wisps of smoke swirling around him. He was alone.

Completely and utterly alone.

***

Harry woke and sat up straight with a strangled gasp. He was drenched with sweat, and his pyjamas were sticking to him. Harry wiped a shaky hand across his damp forehead and tried to calm himself.

Draco turned over and muttered something in his sleep ("Yes, I am a natural blond.") as Harry squinted at the clock. It was past three in the morning.

Harry drew in another deep breath and closed his eyes.

"Maybe I don't want to know," Harry whispered, repeating the words he had spoken in the dream, words that had felt so very real at the time. "Maybe I just want to be normal."