Sweet Resolve

This place feels so unfamiliar, and yet I know it well

I think I used to belong here, but the only way I can tell

Is that I miss you still

~~~

The hourglass of sense, logic, and all things normal had dropped its last grain, now coming to a complete end. Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter made sure of that when they relinquished their swords of enmity for the more peaceful practice of civility. Day by day, a budding aura of camaraderie passed between them, leaving students no choice but to gape at the civilized banter that left a knowing grin on the Slytherin's face, and a noticeable sparkle in the Gryffindor's. Despite Harry's cold monotone behavior with everyone else, it felt like Draco was able to enervate some part of him, enough to grant at least that sparkle. Whispers around school circulated about why they were getting along rather than at each other's throats; Was Harry under his influence? Was Draco scheming? Were they both under some sort of curse? Had Draco actually turned against You-Know-Who? Whenever that last hypothesis was mentioned though, everyone scoffed. Nothing could deter the Malfoy bloodline to turn away from power; and if nothing else, Voldemort represented sheer unadulterated power.

If the boys thought anything of these rumors, they did not mention it. Draco remained the most feared Slytherin by all; no one would dare question his actions, his intentions, or his change in demeanor. There were some like Crabbe, Goyle, and Millicent Bullstrode who silently agreed with Draco's new approach with the golden boy. If anything, it would be enlightening to see if the Silver Moon and Golden Sun of Hogwarts could coexist peacefully, and for how long. There were others who just went along with whatever the blonde decreed, because he was the son of Lucius Malfoy, after all. The only dissident to the Malfoy reign was Blaise Zabini, but he had been too preoccupied with his own pursuits as of late to even give a damn about his infuriating classmate's endeavors.

As for Harry, he continued to reside in Gryffindor Tower and soak in the deluge of glares, stares, and whispers without faltering. It had originally ceased after his final argument with Hermione so many weeks ago, and most people had left him completely in his solitude. But the Gryffindor nobility was dwindling, now that their very own Ron had decided to silently denounce his peers by sidling up to Zabini wholeheartedly. Though Ron received his own flurry of hatred and confusion, Harry also began to take the blame. Because who else could have stopped Ron from forgetting who he was and what he lived for? And who else had not given a damn that his best friend was mingling with a sordid enemy who, unlike Draco, still taunted and ridiculed the Gryffindors? No one else but Harry.

The world was a playground for Death Eater attacks, and dread of You-Know-Who crept in like a deadly stench, suffocating hearts across the globe. But the greatest fear of Hogwarts' students was the abandonment of their hero and unsung leader, and it had been realized.

Yes, it appeared that all normalcy had fallen away.

~~~

Harry had his own demons to conquer at the moment, specifically one by the name of Draco Malfoy. The blonde had proven himself an exceptional teacher, and the past few weeks Harry had gained a lot more knowledge than he had even imagined he could learn, but that was not the only result that was surprising. There were many developments in Harry's life and progress that warranted a great deal of deliberation.

This was why Harry snuck out of the Gryffindor tower this night in early December. He didn't care if it was the middle of the night, and there could be an army of trolls waiting to jump him once he embraced the night air. Harry needed to mull over his thoughts, and he knew the best way to do so quickly was to go for a jog. If he wanted to simply get lost in a fury of memories and notions, he would have gone flying; he always felt a connection to it, as if it were an extension of himself. However, this connection could in no way compare to the overwhelming comfort, ease and relief he felt when he was coursed over the ground. This was no time to blend everything together into a great burst of wind that would blow freely across his face. Things were rapidly evolving, and Harry had to sort through it. All of it.

He began to jog at a strong pace around the lake, addressing the issues that did not raise as many questions... yet.

His sessions with Draco were going quite well. In fact, he was progressing very quickly. Harry had been afraid he had made a wrong decision with Draco, but Snape had supervised all of their meetings; Snape still held onto the belief that Draco should not have been trusted with this task.

"Potter, you may have single-handedly crushed your fate in the palm of Voldemort's hand with this decision."

"Professor, I'm sorry I cannot explain it further- but something tells me he can be trusted, at least for now."

"Are you sure it's not someone who is telling you this?"

"Sir, my occlumency skills rival yours. I have been in full practice of it. I would know if someone were haunting me..." Harry sighed inwardly. Voldemort had ceased to haunt him, but Harry had found other sources to plague him constantly. He looked up and for a brief moment caught concern in the professor's eyes, but immediately was replaced by his trademark look of frustration.

"You better be right. I don't want to think my lessons with you were a waste..." but somehow what should have been a stern remark had been drained of its harshness as the words came out. Snape just looked at Harry with resigned frustration and concern.

Weeks later, Harry could still not erase that look from his memory; Harry was still growing accustomed to the fact that Snape wasn't a total jerk and actually did care about his welfare.

Who knew Snape had a heart underneath all the oiliness? Harry smirked to himself.

His mind wandered from the professor to the actual sessions. Snape had been right; the spells and hexes in that book could not be rivaled by anything else he had ever heard of or experienced, save for the Unforgivables themselves. Draco had begun by making him read through theories of each chapter, the foundations and cores of each dark spell. Harry was at once appalled and intrigued by how depraved people must have been to twist mundane objects like a soft blade of grass into something horrendous, like a sharp-toothed poisonous leech.

"Imagine falling into a patch of those, Potter. Simply delightful," Draco had slyly commented. Harry had just shuddered.

Harry wondered if there were some dark spell to sicken a wizard's mind so much to be able to come up with these spells themselves, or if people were just born this grotesque.

As alarming as the information had been, Harry still retained it all. Draco would abruptly ask him questions, stealing the book from his sight, prying into the deepest most obscure concepts, waiting to see if Harry could join him in that dungeon of knowledge. To both Draco's and Snape's surprise, Harry never faltered. It did not seem odd to Harry that he firmly grasped the information; such memory skills were becoming easier and easier, a natural talent of his.

Soon however, they began to practice the spells themselves, and never had Harry felt so weary. Draco spared him no time while shooting hex after hex, expecting Potter to stumble and suffer the consequences of at least a few curses, but although Harry had to dive out of many instead of retaliating or blocking, he remained unmarked.

Snape just looked on with a small nod of approval, and continued to grade his papers, but Harry could see confusion in Draco's mercury eyes. He chose to ignore it for the moment and looked away. Harry was finding it harder and harder to resist looking at Draco's glittering face when they battled; it glistened with sweat that accumulated on a brow furrowed in concentration and cunning. Harry was finding this new side of Draco, one caught in the heat of the moment, without the mask of pride and sarcasm, incredibly intoxicating. He wanted these battles to last for as long as possible, just so he could have Draco's unflagging attention and that amazing expression could remain on his face.

At the same time though, he never wanted the battles to last long either, for Draco's sake. Harry may have been on the receiving end of these curses, but Draco was the caster, and Harry could see the boy wince just a little every time he mouthed the black words; the curses worked evil both ways. Such are the ways of the Dark Arts. Morbid.

Harry stopped his jogging for a moment. Catching his breath and drinking in the light rain that had begun to shower, he allowed it to wash away his aches and pains, flooding him with more thoughts, as he proceeded to stroll along the lake. He paused for a moment, turning towards the castle, imagining that he could hear the screams of terror and wrath that would someday envelop the earth if he didn't vanquish Voldemort. Stop it, Harry, Stop thinking about that. It won't happen, it will never happen. You'll make sure of it. Harry resumed his walk by the lake.

Harry's mind wandered around the bottomless pool that was usually filled with jet-black liquid when he was hit with a curse. After their sparring sessions, Harry would describe exactly what he felt or saw during the session, so that Draco and Snape could advance from there. Tonight's conversation in particular, when he went into great detail about what he was feeling, still echoed in the brazen boy's head.

***

"Every time you hit me, which I should add is not often, Draco, it feels like my soul is plunged into some disgusting rank black pool. It's absolutely revolting to be honest. I don't know how you two manage with this crap..." Snape and Draco just glowered at him to continue. "Right, well, anyway, I'm dunked into this pool, but I manage to climb out, or emerge, and as I'm casting a defense spell or trying to manipulate whatever you threw at me, I feel like the water just drips off of me, evaporating, and I'm dry."

He was met with two sets of confused eyes.

"What do you mean, you're just dry??? I put all my force into these and you ... you're just dry??? What does that even mean?" Draco clearly thought he had done more damage than that.

"Well... Most of the residue is gone. Weird, huh? I'm not even trying to erase it from me, I just... well most of it goes. I don't know, maybe you could explain it, professor?" Harry's innocent eyes shone up to his professor. Those eyes had seen so much, experienced so much pain, and yet they still held a few shining moments of childlike qualities.

Snape sat back, fingers tapping his mouth, and reflected. "Well Potter, I can't say I've heard of such a thing. It does have something to do with your apparent skills though. I don't know if you have noticed, but you have been struck with quite a few blows from your... tutor." Draco gleamed with pride that he was so successful. "Have you not seen though, have either of you not noticed that most of the time, Potter emerges unaffected by the curse? Either you have constructed an abnormally strong protection shield, or something else is at work, because it looks as though Potter... absorbs each curse."

"WHAT! But there's nothing in me! I don't feel... eviler? Or however one would feel!" At moments of shock Harry was never very eloquent.

"No, no boy, listen to me, I'm not sure, but I think you use... I don't know how you do this Potter, but I think you absorb the energy, and use it for yourself."

Draco quirked an eyebrow, but Harry's jaw dropped entirely. "I'm going to have to look into this. But I must ask you, Potter, is there anything you are keeping from us? Because either you are just damn lucky, or you have been working on something much more dangerous and powerful than we are aware of."

Harry had just glanced back between the two Slytherins- Snape and his imploring beady eyes, Draco and his inquisitive probing silver ones. He just shrugged, and suddenly felt very tired. "No sir, I really have no idea. It's probably just a fluke."

Harry stood up, collected his belongings, and stepped towards the door. He turned around to face his two most unlikely companions, his tired and aged eyes shadowed by an apathetic face. "I think I need a little break. A few days to rest. I'll see you in class tomorrow, Draco." Draco just nodded back to Harry, who then turned the Snape, saying good night. Snape recognized the aged look in his eyes; it was of someone who felt nothing but exhaustion at the end of the day, someone who was grasping at remnants of normalcy but to no avail. Everyone knew the Boy-Who-Lived was special, but they forgot he was also an ordinary boy. Or at least he wanted to be.

Harry stumbled out of the room, leaving the Draco and Snape in his midst.

***

Shuffling out of his memories and back into reality, Harry realized he was lying down in the damp grass, a calm drizzling rain powdering him. No matter how relaxing it was though, it could not rid Harry of the stresses and anxieties that were building up. He was constantly opening doors to new powers, new skills. All Harry had intended was to learn his enemy, inside and out. He had not considered that such studies would shed light on yet another aspect of his innate magic. He clamped his eyes shut, and instantly all he saw was silver, a silvery shadow dancing in front of him.

ARGH! Not only was he becoming freakier by the minute, but he was also enthralled by Draco Malfoy! The boy never ceased to amaze him, especially now. After studying the black spells, Harry was more aware of the ghastly horrific summer Draco must have had, and yet here he was reliving each moment for Harry's benefit! What was in it for him? He didn't have to relive this crap. Well technically now he was the teacher, he was on the other side. The other side... Did Harry firmly believe that Draco had finally chosen sides, that he was now on the side opposite his father, his family line, his heritage?

Yes. I do. When he looks at me, he isn't only diving into my eyes. He lets me swim in his. He's changed. He's taking control... and dammit he's beautiful! I can't do this! I can't release my friends just to pull him into the danger that is my life! He doesn't deserve it...

But I need him.

Harry could not deny any of his thoughts. He wouldn't have gotten anywhere without Draco's help. He made sure Harry studied, he reminded him to go eat, and he pushed Harry in every regard. He revealed some very intimate secrets, and it was all building up to win Harry over. All at once it seemed so difficult and so easy. How could any Malfoy relent to the aid of a Potter? How could Harry so effortlessly accept him? Oh god... But he was like an archangel, sent to challenge Harry forever. Too many things to consider, too many things to worry about!

The stress was building up, like a puddle in his heart, drowning him in bewildered rage. Still lying on his back, and pounding his fists to the ground, Harry roared. He let loose a loud guttural outcry, releasing all his tension into the night sky, forcing the rain away from his ranting mouth, his raging fists, his shivering body.

The lightening bolt glowed for moments, until the thundering roar had subsided, and Harry lay exhausted. He hated being "special," but that had never been his decision to begin with. So Harry remained in the grass, absorbing the cold heat of the rain, letting it revitalize him.

Hours later, after sensing the end of the rainfall, Harry opened his eyes, and pushed himself up. Realizing how late it was, Harry set for the castle, to return to his bed, his dreams, and his reality.

~~~

Before even reaching the common room, Harry could feel a growing sense of dread that unsettled him. He reached the portrait, mumbled the password to Gryffindor tower, and let the painting swing open for him, not bothering to inch forward just yet.

"Mr. Potter! Where have you been? You should have been in bed hours ago! This kind of behavior cannot be tolerated, not by such a one as you!" Professor McGonagall had been pacing the common room, and had stopped right in front of the fireplace. As she scolded Harry, the flames from behind her played with lights and shadows, making her appear like a demon of authority.

Harry reigned in his imagination, and responded. "I felt the need for a walk after detention with Professor Snape. What... What's going on?" It was only then that Harry saw two slumped figures on the sofa. Ron was at the end, head tossed back and arms and legs splayed out as if he had just thrown his body on it with reckless abandon. His face was the living embodiment of fatigue and trauma. His muddy robes were open, revealing equally dirty pants and a sweaty ragged-looking shirt. To his right sat an equally traumatized Hermione, who was sitting rigidly, arms crossed and held tightly to her chest, knees seemingly glued together. He saw the paths that tears had trampled down her cheeks, he heard the raspy sporadic intake of her breaths. It took him a long time to realize that both of his mates had fallen asleep in such states.

Harry tore his eyes away from them and immediately glared at McGonagall. His friends should not be terrified and worn down like that! He isn't in their lives anymore, they should be left alone!

"What the hell happened!" he hissed. The glare he threw her way almost knocked the professor off her feet, but she held balance. "Who did what and how and why?"

McGonagall pursed her lips and furrowed her eyebrows. "You seem to care about them now, do you? I assure you Mr. Potter that your friends have been well taken care of, and you need not fret over their well-being. But now-" Harry did not like the tone in her voice.

"Excuse me professor, but although I prefer not to associate with them any longer, it doesn't mean I would ever wish harm on either of them!"

The professor sighed. "I understand, Potter. Trust me, the situation has been taken care of, so let it go. You have other issues to tend to as it is. Professor Dumbledore wants to speak with you immediately. I suggest you get down there as soon as possible, seeing as 'immediately' was two hours ago."

Harry continued to glare, but he looked back at his former friends, and trusting McGonagall, he marched away from the common room. Before he reached the entrance to Dumbledore's chambers, he instantly chided himself for not asking for the password. However, as he approached, he saw Snape leaving, and was able to proceed up the steps, but not before asking Snape what he was doing there.

"Just go up and find out, Potter. Tonight was ... eye-opening, to say the least." Harry looked at the back of his retreating professor, noticing how slumped his shoulders were, and realizing how bedraggled Snape had been looking the past week or so. Something started to stir inside him, and Harry recognized it as worry. He suddenly felt incredibly grateful for everything Snape had done for him, sacrificed for him, and helped him with.

"Professor!" Snape turned around, rolling his eyes at the young man. "I uhh... I just wanted to say... thank you." And Harry rushed up the steps, a little scared of what Snape's reaction would be. He didn't see a face contorted in deliberation relax into understanding.

Harry knocked on the door, which was slightly ajar to begin with. He pushed it open to see Dumbledore standing behind his desk, staring out of the window into the starless sky.

He didn't turn to Harry, who had quietly entered, but instead he said, "Hard times lie ahead of us, Harry. Even the stars are retreating behind the clouds." He released a heavy sigh and turned to Harry, who just stood like a statue, unsure of what to do.

"Oh please, sit down, sit down my boy. Here, would you like some tea? Lemon drops?" For the first time, Harry was actually tempted by the steaming hot drink, and courteously accepted. He did pass on the candy though; Dumbledore just grinned and popped one in his mouth.

"You've grown a lot, Harry. Have you noticed? The years have passed, and you have changed so much. I see it in your eyes, a strength that wasn't there before. Am I right?"

"Umm, I'm not sure, sir. I haven't really..." Harry wasn't at all aware what was going on.

"Of course, you wouldn't notice. We rarely notice the transformations we make ourselves. But when you look back on it, you'll see that the strength you cannot recognize now will be one of the guiding factors in your success in the future." Harry wondered if Dumbledore knew about his sessions with Draco and Snape. Snape never said anything about telling the headmaster, but with that much dark magic, how could the headmaster not know...

"Sir, why did you ask to see me? Oh, I'm sorry I'm late. I didn't find out until a few minutes ago that you wanted to see me."

"Quite all right, dear boy, as you must have noticed, I was discussing some important business with Snape. I will get to that later, but first I feel I should ask you something. Is there anything, anything at all you wish to tell me, Harry?"

Emerald eyes met twinkling blue ones, a look of sorrow and resignation floating between the two. "After all these years, sir, has there ever been anything?"

A melancholy mist filled the air between them, around them. Neither broke eye contact, but instead spoke to each other through a gaze of bittersweet understanding. Of course there were things to be said by both parties. There always had been, but nothing had ever been shared. Harry rarely mentioned many of his dreams, many of his experiences and thoughts with the wise old man throughout all his years at Hogwarts. Dumbledore had kept secrets and facts about Harry's past from him, always revealing bits and pieces long after Harry yearned to know. They both knew the question was irrelevant, it was just habit. They both knew that here sat the Past and Future of the Wizarding World, both carrying mysteries and secrets as tools of empowerment. Harry had learned so much from his mentor; he had not stopped from acquiring the skill of secrecy.

Dumbledore finally blinked, and turned to straighten some papers on his desk. "Well, if there is anything... please don't hesitate to come to me." Harry just smiled. "I asked to speak to you for a few reasons. After some rather alarming news was brought to my attention by an insider to Voldemort," It was wiser not to speak Snape's name out loud if it could be avoided, "I called an emergency meeting of the Order. I had a feeling... that you would not want to be there. Was I right?"

At first Harry was startled that he had been left out. If something was going on, he ought to know about it! And he missed seeing some old friendly faces: Tonks, Mad-Eye, Remus... Harry really missed his only remaining link to the inside world of his parents. Harry was almost overcome with feelings of resentment and anger, but then he understood. Dumbledore was granting him his wish; Harry was to be left alone, because he was all alone. No one had the mission that he did, so Harry would approach it the way he thought best. Dumbledore was not a blind fool like some, and Harry looked up at the great wizard with tremendous respect.

"Yes, you were right, sir. I would prefer not to be involved. We are separate units in this war." Harry spoke all this with a deeply controlled monotone, but a hint of emotion could be detected.

"I explained as much to the members who attended. Some were not quick to understanding, while others caught on immediately." Harry nodded. "Of course, if at any time you change your mind, you will be instantly accepted back as one of the Order. The choice will remain yours."

"Thank you, professor. I will always take that into consideration. I ... I suppose you cannot tell me what you found out tonight then? And, oh yeah! What about Ron and Hermione! I saw them, in the common room, they looked horrible..."

"Ahh Harry, there will be quite a few things I won't be able to tell you, due to your decreased involvement with the Order. However, whatever is relevant to your own pursuits, and your own tasks, will be readily shared. As for tonight, we only know that Voldemort is plotting a way to break into Hogwarts, essentially to come after you. This won't be until late April or May, according to our spies. It is said that he is... rather thrown off by your behavior. He had wanted to strike you indirectly, but now he is ... grappling for a target." Harry sighed with relief, finally his scheme was working. Dumbledore saw the triumph shine behind his eyes. "You certainly have acquired an edge over Voldemort, haven't you? ... Well the rest I cannot share with you. As for your friends: do not worry about them Harry. They are strong and can take care of themselves if necessary. But everything is fine. They just had a long night... with the Order."

There was something Dumbledore had said that sparked interest in Harry, but he quickly forgot when the wizard mentioned his friends. Harry did not want them to have to fend for themselves; the point was that he would take care of all of this alone! Harry shut his eyes and thought of all the death eaters, all the supporters of Voldemort, all the evils that ran rampant through England, through the world.

It's insane to think that they won't come across troubles and have to fight them. But so long as they don't face Voldemort, they'll be safer. There's only so much safety I can give them, but I will do it wholeheartedly.

As if reading his thoughts, Dumbledore warmly commented, "Your parents would be proud of you, Harry. You have a bigger heart and stronger will than most wizards three times your age. And that's saying something." Emerald eye's dampened as a storm threatened to shroud the grassy fields, images of wild blacks and vibrant reds streaking across the boy's mind, blurring into one. Harry blinked away the tears, and turned away to look out the window. It was almost daylight, how long had he been awake?

Dumbledore rose out of his seat and approached Harry, extending a hand. "It may be wise to get some rest, and it is entirely possible that your presence won't be missed if you happened to sleep through a class or two. You have advanced potions first, correct?"

Harry took the hand, and smiled at the kind old man. Who would have imagined that the darkest sorcerer of recent time would be so afraid of such a kind wizard? There was too much madness in the world.... Harry stood up, feeling warmth emanate into Dumbledore's hand. All the anger, and frustration and tension he had felt throughout the night had dissipated and rejoined into determination.

He bid farewell to the wizard and headed for the door, hearing a voice echo in his mind. Was it Dumbledore's? No, it sounded... older. Harry didn't bother trying to figure it out; he just relished the significance of the words. He did not even realize it was another language resounding in his ears. All that mattered was that Harry could understand.

Non sum qualis eram...I am not what I used to be.

~~~

Harry did not enter the common room. He chose to sit just outside it for a while. There was a breeze and as it passed over him Harry felt calmer, renewed. He was thinking about how drastically his life had changed from just a few months ago. He was thinking about what Dumbledore had told him. He was thinking about why there was suddenly a shadow on him.

Harry looked up, to see Neville peering over him.

"I wondered when you would get back. Mind if I sit down?" Harry nodded with confusion. "Oh. I was at the meeting tonight. You were supposed to have talked to the headmaster after, right? You never came up tonight. I couldn't sleep much, so I thought I would wait for you."

Harry was bewildered on many levels. "Neville, we haven't really spoken in months. Why in the world would you want to wait for me?? And... since when were you part of the Or- the group thing." Harry realized it was unwise to speak about the Order of the Phoenix out in the open, and Neville picked up on that. He stood up, gesturing for Harry to do the same and they both entered the common room, settling in plush armchairs. "So, when did that happen?"

Neville donned a small smile. "Ahhh Harry, I didn't know you cared. Dumbledore decided to let me at least be part of the meetings after... after last year and all. Apparently I proved myself worthy."

Harry couldn't help but smile, though he tried very hard to control it. "You did prove yourself. That night was... horrible. And you never relented. Only a fool wouldn't have been impressed by your bravery..." Harry fell back into his apathetic mood, but inside his thoughts were churning.

"If you were there Neville, Ron and Hermione must have been as well? Can you tell me what happened to them?" Neville stiffened at this, and looked at Harry as if he so desperately wanted to tell him something, but was determined not to.

"I'm sorry Harry. I can't tell you. It's not my secret to tell." He left it at that, and Harry knew he would get nowhere. Maybe he could use his legilimency though... NO. Harry would never do that to his friends. Only on someone who deserved it, a death eater or a spy for Voldemort or ... Suddenly something popped into Harry's head.

"OK but Dumbledore said something about spies sharing information tonight. He said spies?? Who else is a spy?? I thought only Snape was." Neville looked like he was going to be sick.

"I... I can't tell you. I... no. Just know that ... this person... is being very brave." Neville was about to stand up and head back to bed, but Harry stopped him.

"No, don't leave. I won't bother you with any more questions." Harry's features were pulled down by the weight of responsibility and weariness, and Neville looked cautious, but Harry continued. "I'm sorry too Neville. I can't tell you anything either. I would just like to sit here though. I haven't relaxed in the common room for so long, and your presence... well it just kind of helps." Harry couldn't deny that he longed for the relative innocence of previous years, where so many happy moments were lived in this room. He sighed and shut his eyes, believing Neville would leave him to sleep alone.

Neville regarded him with sad eyes, and sat back down, falling asleep almost instantly. Harry could hear him snore, and marveled at how understanding, how brave Neville really was...

Oh my god, it's not him is it?? Please not Neville, he could never be a spy...is it Draco? I... but he wouldn't... not now, after all this? No, please no... Why does anyone have to spy!? Neville? Draco? Not Draco...

Harry shook that thought from his head and succumbed to slumber, leaving the problems of this world for problems in the dream world.

~~~

His hands were bloodied, his face was scratched, his hair mangled by sweat and dirt. There was as much frustration as there was dust was collecting on his body. Unable to deal with the infernal wall for the night, Harry kicked it with childish vehemence, not caring that his foot would throb for hours to come, whether or not he awoke. But this time something happened. Harry looked down in surprise as he saw a crack spread and crumble at his feet, leaving a noticeable hole in the once formidable stone barrier.

Harry leaned down, and felt a chilling, icy cold current escape from the hole, leaving traces of musty ancient odors that tickled Harry's nose. He stood up rapidly, trying to escape the frosty sensations, and saw a faint blue light peering through the hole. Leaning down once more, despite his achy knees and bleeding hands, Harry tried to look through the hole, but all he saw was a faint blue mist, and nothing else. He tried to reach in, but his arm could only fit in a few inches deep, and by the looks of it, the wall was at least a few feet thick. The iciness took hold of Harry's arm though, and he was surprised to discover that there was something warm and inviting hidden deep inside the frigid air, and when he pulled his arm out, was astonished to find all his cuts and bruises healed.

Something special lay in there, and for once Harry was madly eager to find out what it was.

The rest of his dream was spent wondering in awe about the powers that resided behind this shield. Dream Harry had never felt so at peace; intuition told him all the answers were just a few feet away. Everything he wanted to know... just a few feet away...