Anatomy of a Dream

Fortune's Loom

"Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand

And Eternity in an hour."

-William Blake

Outside the sky was a deep enamel blue and fair fluffy clouds floated high above them like fat, contented sheep. The normally dismal Knockturn Alley was soaked in golden summer light, lending it an almost picturesque look, and scaring some of the scavenging rats and spiders back into their dark hiding places.

They left Knockturn Alley and turned onto the main street known as Diagon Alley. They passed the wand shop and the book store without comment, but as soon as Julian spied the broom shop, he dashed over to the window to have a look.

"Oooh, the Dervish 500 is out!" he exclaimed, crowding the window. Tom hung back; brooms didn't really fascinate him that much, and frankly, he didn't like heights. Julian, on the other hand, was one of the Chasers on the Slytherin Quidditch team, and was obsessed with the Chudley Cannons, whose only distinction, as far as Tom could make out, was that they never seemed to win a game.

"It can go fifty miles per hour," gushed Julian, who had produced a dog-eared broom magazine from beneath his robes and was flipping through it eagerly. "I wish Dad approved of brooms," he sighed. "But there's not enough money, of course, and Mum is always scared that I'll hurt myself." He rolled his eyes.

"Tom!" trilled a voice over the general din of the street. "Tom! Julian!"

They turned to see a girl running toward them, a tall boy reluctantly trailing her.

"Hey, Bran," said Julian. Tom nodded to her. They both ignored her brother, Lucan, who watched them anxiously for signs of malice.

"I saw you earlier," Branwen Longbottom said breathlessly, coming up to them, "but I was at Mr. Ollivander's, getting a new wand, so I couldn't come out." She opened the narrow box she had been carrying and displayed it proudly, a smooth black rod that had a gold sheen. "Laburnum wood and dragon heartstring," she said proudly, flourishing it in the air.

Branwen had a slender, flower-stem neck and licks of short blonde hair that looked like the shining petals of some golden peony. Her bright harlequin eyes were trained on Tom as she spoke.

"N.E.W.T.s this year, Tom," she chirped. "Are you nervous?"

Tom smiled smugly, "Not really."

Lucan cleared his throat. "We'd better be going, Bran," he said. She whirled on him angrily.

"You can go, Lucan. I know you don't have any friends, but I've found mine and you don't have to ruin my fun. Why don't you run along to Mum now, seeing as she's the only one who will talk to you."

Lucan was a huge, with the muscular body of an athlete, but he seemed powerless in the face of his sister. He reddened and shifted his feet awkwardly.

"Cat got your tongue, Longbottom?" asked Julian. "Or are your brain functions just extra slow today? Can you give us an estimate as to how long we'll have to wait for one of your brilliant retorts?"

Branwen snorted. "What brain functions?"

"What a loving little sister you are, Bran," observed Tom.

"I'll see you later," Lucan mumbled.

"Yes, do stop skulking around," said Branwen. "And tell Mum I shan't be back in time for tea, and not to wait."

"Right," he said, shuffling away.

"I've been trying to shake him for hours," complained Branwen. "He's such a drag."

"At least you have a family to care for you," said Tom tartly. Branwen shot him a sideways glance, trying to determine of he was serious, or merely trying to be antagonistic. It was hard to tell, with Tom.

"That's right," said Julian, with a grin. "Poor Tom here doesn't even have a father to set a good, strong paternal example for him."

Tom chuckled and nodded. "That's true."

The joke was lost on Branwen, who looked confusedly between the two of them. "What's so funny?" she asked.

"Nothing," said Tom, sharing another conspiratorial smile with Julian. Julian was one of the only people who knew of Tom's attack on his father and grandparents, how he'd left them dead among their fine things. All their wealth had not protected them from the wrath of Lord Voldemort, he thought sneeringly. Best of all, he would never be discovered; he'd recently read about the arrest of Morfin Gaunt in connection with the crimes. He reached into his pocket and fingered the silver watch he had taken from his father's corpse, as a souvenir. "You're too young to understand anyway."

Branwen harrumphed at that. At fifteen, she was two years younger than the boys. "Where are you going?" she asked, changing the subject.

"Just running an errand for my father," explained Julian. "We're going to Mrs. Fortuna's shop on Fate Alley."

"I'll come with you, then," said Branwen. "That's got to be more interesting than watching my mum spoon-feed Lucan."

"All right," said Julian, and they started off.

Fate Alley was more difficult to find than they had expected. They had to stop several times to ask for directions. The streets got smaller, the buildings dingier. Tom had the impression that they were going in circles, as if they were walking in a snail shell, trying to find the center.

At last they reached a road so tiny that they almost had to walk single file. A beaten sign proclaimed that they had, at last, reached Fate Alley.

"Right," said Julian, looking around. "It should be close now."

Tom pointed ahead. "There it is," he said, indicating a sign fashioned to resemble a pair of dangling scissors.

"Fortune's Loom--Rags, Riches, and Everything in Between," read Branwen. In the darkness of the alley, her hair seemed to glow gently.

"Come on, then," said Julian, pushing the door open. A bell tinkled as they entered a dark carpeted hallway. The walls were covered with thick cloths.

"Is it open?" asked Branwen, her voice seeming muffled.

"I dunno. Mrs. Fortuna?" Julian called, trying to peer through the darkness.

There was a scrabbling sound, and a door at the end of the hall opened. Mrs. Fortuna appeared. She was an old woman, with round eyes that gleamed like small black pearls. The rest of her face was obscured by a dirty gray veil. She wore black robes cinched very tightly at the waist, and, Tom noticed as his eyes adjusted to the light, she had four arms.

"Ah, you must be Mr. Burke's son," she said. "And friends? Step into the parlor, my dears," she said. Her voice had an odd undercurrent to it, as if she were speaking over another noise. Tom found it difficult to listen to. Julian, helplessly polite thanks to his mother's indoctrination, was already following, and Branwen and Tom had no choice but to accompany him into the dusky parlor.

Inside there was a lot of large, dark furniture that gave them the impression of having walked into a cave full of huge, sleeping animals. Mrs. Fortuna lit a single candle, and set it on a table.

"I don't like too much light," she explained. The light seemed to create even more shadows than before. Branwen wandered over to the walls, which, like those in the hallway, were covered in cloth.

Tom watched her bend closer and closer to the tapestry, until her nose was almost touching it. Then she gasped and jumped away.

Mrs. Fortuna cackled. "See a little too much, dear?" she asked.

"I--what is it? I mean...was that me?" asked Branwen.

"It was, and it wasn't," said Mrs. Fortuna evasively. "It was your future self. You are yourself now, and will be in the future, but who you are today and who you are tomorrow is subject to change. Brave of you to look, though...most of us can only bear to gaze obliquely at the truth."

"But...what I saw...will happen?"

Mrs. Fortuna pursed her lips. "You're here for tea, my dear, not for a consultation. It really isn't my place to say so. Remember it while you can, dear; you were only meant to live one moment at a time. I'll just fetch a tray, shall I? You three wait here."

She left. Her gait was strange and jerky, making Tom wonder if she had four legs as well, hidden beneath her robes.

"What did you see, Bran?" asked Julian curiously.

Branwen shook her head. "It's strange," she said. "I'm starting to forget it already. It's slipping away the harder I think about it, sort of like a dream, when you're trying so desperately to recall it, and it just sinks deeper and deeper into your memory. It was exciting though...I think it had something to do with arrows."

"That's not surprising," said Julian. Branwen loved to shoot, and had even started an Archery Club at Hogwarts.

Tom took the candle up to one of the tapestries and peered closely at it. He could see that there were shapes and figures woven into the cloth, but it was hard to make them out...he leaned closer. There was a stirring in the images, so subtle that at first Tom thought it was simply threads gleaming in the candlelight. Slowly the figures sharpened, and became more lifelike. There was a man, a man with a white face and limbs. He was wearing sleeveless black robes, and tattooed onto his arm was a black skull with a long, curving tongue...no, not a tongue but a snake. Tom marveled at the level of detail in the weaving. The man walked across the tapestry. He was being led by another, a stooped, tow-headed man with a ratty face and an obsequious manner. He bowed and scraped before his master (which Tom realized vaguely was an older version of himself), and led him up a hill of dark green thread, into a small house. The tapestry presented a cutaway picture of the house, so that, like a dollhouse, Tom could see into all the rooms. His older self marched into the door, and Tom watched in fascination as he met and dueled with a black-haired, bespectacled man. He beat him quite easily, and felt a glow of pleasure as the man flopped to the ground, dead. His embroidered counterpart smiled, and then went up the stairs.

There he met with a red-haired woman. She did not fight like the man had, but was huddled in front of a cradle, the red threads of her mouth indicating that she was screaming. Tom watched himself kill the woman, and then turn to the cradle. The ratty man had come up behind him, and was watching in horrified fascination as his master raised his wand. There was a flash of green light, and Tom felt an excruciating pain in his own chest. He staggered back, clutching his heart, unable to breathe. A sudden terrifying thought came to him: I am dying...

A shrill scream sounded, interrupting the reverie.

Branwen had run over to him, and was clutching his arm in fright. A large spider had emerged from beneath the sofa, and was proceeding toward them in stops and starts. Branwen shrieked again. Tom shook her off and reached slowly for his wand. He hated spiders...he had been practicing the Cruciatus Curse on the small ones he found in the orphanage's garden all summer; now was his chance to see if the work had paid off...

Just then Mrs. Fortuna returned, bearing a tray. She stopped when she saw the spider. "Oh, don't be scared," she told Branwen, who was clearly petrified. "That's just one of my little helpers around the shop."

"Little...?" Branwen managed.

"Right, well, we'd best be going," said Julian, who was glaring at Tom. He placed the parcel on the table and bowed to Mrs. Fortuna. "My father probably wants me for something else."

"Of course," she said. "Give my regards to your dear mother. It won't be long now, pet."

Julian looked at her as if he'd been slapped, but Mrs. Fortuna didn't seem to notice. She had torn off the wrapping on the parcel and was holding up a skein of thread into the air. It was beautiful stuff, of an iridescent color that defied description. It was not yellow, nor green nor red...and yet it was all of them, all at once. Tom was captivated by it, until one of Mrs. Fortuna's other hands reached up and plucked it out of the air, tucking it deeply into her robes.

"You'd like a biscuit for the road, perhaps?"

Branwen only shook her head silently, clearly imagining a kitchen with spiders crawling all over it.

Julian put an arm around her shoulders, and the three of them went outside. He was unusually pale and quiet as they emerged onto the street.

"I don't know where she gets off," said Tom angrily, trying to conceal his panic. I'm going to die, he thought frantically. I saw my own death; I'm going to die. But even as he scrabbled to recollect the circumstances of his death, the vision was slipping away from him, leaving only a lingering sense of fear and despair.

Branwen shuddered. "She was obviously batty. You shouldn't listen to her, Julian. Come on, let's go. I want to get as far as possible from those disgusting spiders."

Tom, however, stood his ground. "I've a mind to go back in there and kill all of her stupid spiders," he growled, kicking a stone and sending it skipping along the cobblestones.

There was a disapproving sound behind them, and Branwen jumped. Mrs. Fortuna was standing at the doorway, looking for all the world like a spider herself, standing at the entrance of her funneled web.

"Silly children," was all she said. "I have a goody for your mother, young Mr. Burke." She held out a silken pouch.

Julian hesitated before grabbing it. "Thanks," he muttered. Before he could utter another word, Mrs. Fortuna had retreated back into her shop. He looked at the bag in his hand. "I've got to be getting home," he said.

"I suppose I'd better be going as well," Branwen sighed.

"No," said Julian, giving her and Tom a strange look. "I mean, it's so early. You two should stay out a bit longer. Someone has to man the shop though, and Dad won't like it if Mum does it by herself for too long. It's really boring though. 'Bye, Bran. See you in a bit, Tom."

Tom had a look of half-hearted protest on his face. Branwen voiced ready agreement, but Julian hadn't waited for either of their reactions, and was already jogging away.

"Come on," said Branwen. "Let's go to the bookstore."

"Fine," agreed Tom. "As long as we go to the herpatorium after that. I want to see the snakes."