Harry Potter and the Dark Mark

Chapter Fifteen: Falling to Pieces

Harry felt as though he'd been plunged into a sea of ice water.

"Where?"

"Your parents' home... or I should say... the site of your parents' home..."

There was something reminiscent of triumph in her voice. "In the end, the very site of his destruction has been the place that has ensured peace and security for you and for all the children of Hogwarts-- serving a purpose not even Voldemort is aware of. Nor would he dare dream."

Harry lowered his head, and ran his fingers through his wild hair.

"Harry, you all right?"

"Yeah, fine, it's just... there's so much, you know? So much that I never knew. That I never understood..."

Arabella nodded.

She let out a strained sort of yawn and stood up from the step. "Well, I've certainly kept you up too late. Sirius and I will be leaving first thing in the morning so I really do need to get to bed. I... I hope that you don't take this suspension too hard. I know how hard it must be, but, well, I have to agree with what Sirius said on the train: I wouldn't have acted any differently."

Harry laughed as he stood up. "Thanks, Professor. That's good to hear. And thanks for talking to me about... well.... thanks..."

"Not at all," she said, turning to make for her guest room. "Oh and Harry dear," she called out just before Harry slipped inside his bedroom. "I can't tell you the number of times I almost killed the Dursleys for you, my dear. I did so love our visits."

She closed the door gently and Harry tip toed into his room, knowing better than to disturb the slumbering Dursley's. He pulled the sheets overtop him, but the prospect of actually sleeping was hardly likely, not with Sirius downstairs and all that Arabella had just told him. No, there was much too much to think about... entirely too much... his brain was overloaded... working too hard... needed a rest.. sleep...

Harry hurried down the stairs that next morning, worried to death that he'd

overslept and missed Sirius and Arabella. But there they were, sitting at the breakfast table, Sirius happily finishing off a cup of tea while Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon stood behind them, their faces stone cold with hot fury.

"Ah," said Sirius through a mouthful of breakfast, enthusiastically waving over Harry, "morning! Just enjoying your lovely Aunt and Uncle's hospitality. Really, Harry, you never told me that Petunia was such a good cook. Although... these crumpets could do with a bit of help..." he took out his wand and flicked it over his breakfast plate, and the crumpets swelled. Sirius practically salivated and went to work on the crumpets.

Harry could feel the heat steaming from his Aunt and Uncle's ears. Of course, Sirius really didn't have to do anything to get Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia's blood boiling-- just his presence was enough. But Sirius' noticeable... enthusiasm towards the Dursleys was not just an obvious pleasure for Sirius himself, but it had also been a long time since Harry had had the pleasure of seeing them squirm so very uncomfortably.

"All finished Bella?"

Arabella nodded, staring at Sirius with her ancient, laughing eyes.

"Well then!" Sirius stood up and took his jacket from off the back of the chair. "Thank you Mr. Dursley, Mrs. Dursley." He held out his hand to them, and Harry held his breath. Sure enough, his Aunt and Uncle didn't so much as even wiggle a finger.

Sirius laughed. "I was rather under the impression that Muggles were accustomed to shaking hands when thanking one another. If you'd like, I can educate you in how Wizards show their gratitude for certain kindnesses, but it's a bit more complicated--"

Uncle Vernon's frankfurter fingers gripped Sirius' outstretched hand, and then just as quickly released it. Aunt Petunia followed his lead exactly.

"And you must stop by if ever you're up in Hogsmeade," said Sirius lightly, strolling towards the front door. "Beautiful village--excellent weather this time of year."

"We--wouldn't--be--caught--dead--there," seethed Vernon through angry, thin lips.

"Ah, well, pity," sighed Sirius, "you'd have loved the shops."

"Goodbye Vernon, Petunia," said Arabella lightly, "hope to see you both again very soon!"

Somehow Harry guessed the feeling was not a mutual one.

The Dursleys remained quiet, perhaps because if they opened their mouths all that would have come out would have been screaming and cursing. Harry couldn't help but notice that Petunia had already taken out the disinfectant was scrubbing away furiously at the table. She'd probably be burning the linen Sirius had slept in as well...

"Professor McGonagall is going to be here Friday morning at ten to take you back to Hogwarts," said Sirius as they stepped out into the door. He let out a laugh and lowered his voice candidly. "Ever seen your Aunt and Uncle that mad before?"

Harry was smiling. "I may've seen 'em worse, but you've done a fair job."

Sirius nodded happily. "Think they'll let you alone for the week?"

"Doubt they'd touch me with a ten foot pole."

Sirius and Arabella bade their adieus and Harry closed the door behind them. He turned around to find both Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia behind him, speechlessly vehement. It was funny (though Harry didn't dare laugh) to watch his Uncle try and piece together a coherent, grammatically correct sentence to express his anger, and when his efforts finally proved to be hopelessly futile he threw his hands up into the air and shouted, "just stay out of my sight!"

So Harry did, perfectly happy to spend his hours inside his room on his bed, or outside in the back yard. The house was so very quiet for so much of the day, as a matter of fact, that Harry began to wonder if the Dursley's were even home. But then, towards the late afternoon, there was a brief knock at Harry's bedroom door and then Dudley poked his head inside.

Harry sat straight up on his bed. "Hey! There you are! Come on in, Dudley!"

Dudley did so, hands stuffed in his front jeans pockets. He cocked his head to the side-- he wasn't smiling at Harry, but he wasn't scowling either. In fact, Harry hadn't a clue what was going on behind those appraising eyes of Dudley's.

"So... what'd they get you for?"

Harry swung his legs over to the side of the bed. "I guess you could call it skiving off."

"I thought you always skive off. Isn't that what you're known for? Skiving off and never getting caught?"

Harry smiled. "Yeah... only this time I didn't know what I was getting into. See... I'd bloody had enough of this nonsense with the dark mark attacks. So I did a bit of... snooping at one of their houses--"

"One of whose houses?"

"A death eater's."

"A death eater," he repeated slowly, his face twisting in thought. "Aren't those the people that support Voldemort?"

"Yeah."

"What are you, barking mad?"

"Yes," he said with a smile, "but the way I figure, it was better than sitting by and letting more people die from those attacks."

"People are still dying?" Despite Dudley's obvious coolness towards Harry, the concern in his voice was still quite apparent.

"Yes. And while I thought I was going to help stop what the death eater's were trying to do, I ended up ruining a trap that had been sent for Voldemort and his followers. Sirius and Arabella are a part of what's called the Order of the Phoenix-- it's a secret society that's dedicated to undermining the dark movement. Well, it took the Order months to set up this particular trap and... well... I've been suspended for five days so you can guess that I basically messed up the whole operation."

Dudley was quiet-- he was still trying to look as aloof and dismissive about the matter as possible, but once again his voice was giving his real interest.

"When I got the owl yesterday afternoon about you getting suspended, well, I thought maybe you'd been in a massive fight, or something respectable like that. I mean... it's not like you messed up the trap on purpose."

"Tell me about it." Harry paused, "you didn't get the owl until the afternoon? I thought you and your parents knew about this before I did!"

"Oh," said Dudley, "that's what I meant to say. And speaking of owls: I guess your window's been closed all day, because Sophie's owl just dropped this off in my room." He held out a small white envelope to Harry.

"Er... thanks," said Harry shyly, taking the envelope and placing it on his dresser, not about to make Dudley feel awkward by opening it in front of him. He went to the window and pulled it open, ruffling Hedwig as he did so.

"Not gonna read it? What if it's important?"

Harry raised a brow at Dudley, whose gaze was fixed firmly on the letter. "No," said Harry sternly, "it can wait, I'll read it later."

"Come on," Dudley pressed and then he gave Harry a faint sort of half smile. "We don't have secrets from each other, right?"

So, grudgingly, Harry opened the envelope, terribly aware of Dudley's eyes glued to his every facial gesture as he read:

Dear Harry:

If you don't have plans for dinner tomorrow night, I thought it would be a good idea if we met up so we can talk. I'd like for you to come down to London, but it's probably best if I go over there. So how about the King's Arms at seven sharp? Owl me if that won't work, otherwise I'll see you then.

Love,

Sophie.

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah," said Harry, "she... wants to have dinner tomorrow night..."

Dudley didn't so much as blink and Harry felt obligated to somehow put Dudley at ease-- or was he really just trying to put himself at ease?

"Er... wouldn't want to come along by any chance, would you?"

Dudley was reaching for the door. "Thanks, but no thanks. I'm gonna hang out with a mate of mine tomorrow and he lives pretty far away."

Harry didn't even have a chance to tell Dudley that he hoped he would have fun at his mate's house, because the door was already closing shut.

When last he'd seen Dudley, Harry was getting the confidence that things were getting back to normal between them again. But now, Dudley was right back like he was when he first found out about Harry and Sophie.

After all, it has been a long time since Dudley had seen Sophie and me together-- he hadn't been expecting to see that, so it was probably just a shock. I'm sure that some blokes take a really long time getting over a girl. And a girl like Sophie...

Harry could hardly wait for Tuesday evening. Aunt Petunia was still perfectly fuming with rage, so it was little wonder that she took it out by putting Harry to work in the garden. "You'll earn your keep while you're here," she shouted at him, "your coming home during term was not a part of our agreement, need I remind you?"

"You think I wanted to come back here," Harry shouted back as he stormed out into the backyard, putting on the gardening gloves. "I'm supposed to be playing Quidditch right now--"

"DON'T MENTION THAT WORD IN THIS HOUSE EVER AGAIN! We've had enough of your mystical nonsense! And that ghastly Godfather of yours is never to step foot inside this home again, is that understood? If he does, we'll have Scotland Yard after him--"

Harry laughed, "If the Ministry of Magic can't catch him, I doubt that Scotland Yard--"

"YOU WATCH YOUR MOUTH, HARRY POTTER! WHAT DID I JUST TELL YOU? ENOUGH OF THAT TALK!" Aunt Petunia put her hand to her chest and took a breath. "Now... cut those rose bushes down to size or I'll cut you down to size." She slammed the door behind her and Harry frowned.

"I'd like to see her try," he muttered, getting to work on the rose bushes-- an endeavor made much harder by little Eddie the terrier who kept begging for Harry's attentions. But Harry was much too preoccupied with his own thoughts to cuddle the dog, no matter how cuddly he looked. He was doing a perfectly horrible job with the roses... not that it was surprising since all he could think of was getting out of number four and meeting up with Sophie.

That evening, he spent a considerable amount of time getting dressed. True, he wasn't going any place fancy, but spending an evening with Sophie was important enough to make him want to make sure he looked at least decent. Off with the jeans, on with the black trousers and the smart dark gray shirt.

He casually told Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia that he'd be back in a few hours, to which Uncle Vernon replied, "if the door is locked, don't bother knocking, you'll just have to sleep outside."

Harry rolled his eyes and swung open the door-- and then he paused. "Oy! Dudley," he said, poking his head back inside. Dudley was sitting on the sofa, watching a music video channel. "Thought you were going to visit your mate?"

"Oh I am, just not yet."

"But it's almost seven, didn't you say he lived kind of far--"

"I said just not yet." Dudley turned up the volume on the telly.

Harry frowned. "Right... well... have fun anyway."

*

The Kings Arms was about three blocks off of Magnolia Crescent, tucked away between a bus station and a grocery store. The oldest building in Little Whinging, it was a compact white and brown Tudor building that, six months out of the year, was practically obstructed from view altogether by the blooming oak tree in front of it. And even from outside, the smell of four hundred years of red wine and tobacco was powerful.

Harry was early, so he went to the bar and successfully wedged himself in between two particularly portly Muggles. He kept his eye on the door, waiting impatiently for her to walk in.

"Hello Mr. Potter."

Harry whirled around in his seat. Sophie was behind him, wearing dark jeans and a smart black turtleneck sweater.

"And I thought that I was early." He laughed and greeted her with a kiss on the cheek. "You look lovely. What'll you have?" he asked her eagerly as she squeezed in next to him at the bar.

"Oh, whatever you're having."

He smiled. "Hey bartender," said Harry, "do you know how to make a Warlock's Beard?"

The Bartender blinked.

"Vodka, peach and grapefruit juice," said Harry.

The bartender laughed and shook his head, putting two glasses in front of him, "most people call that a Sea Breeze, just for future reference." He poured the drinks and walked away, chuckling, and repeating, "'warlock's beard,' really, some people..."

They took their drinks and found a vacant sofa in the darkest corner of the pub, next to the hearth which lay dormant. He took a sip of his drink and settled happily into the cozy warmth of the sofa, smiling mischievously at Sophie.

"So I supposed you're wondering what I did--"

"Actually," she said, "Hermione sent me an owl yesterday and told me all about it."

"I know what you're going to say," he said. "You told me so, right?"

"I wasn't going to say that... but since you brought it up, yeah I did." Sophie looked distracted, troubled really, and her fingers shook as she took a small sip from the tall glass.

"You okay, Sophie?"

"No... no, I..." she was fighting to find the right words. Eventually she sighed. "Did you read the Prophet this morning?"

Harry nearly dropped his drink. "No," he said, setting the glass down onto the table, immediately put on alert. "No, I didn't get a delivery today."

"No," cried Sophie. "Then you don't know?"

Harry's stomach lurched. "No... what's happened?"

She looked so pale, and the shaking in her voice made Harry brace for the worst. "It was... it was awful..."

"Not the dark mark again?"

"Yes. A double murder this time."

"No..."

"Yes," she nodded gravely, "damn, I should have brought the paper with me. They were twin sisters in Ireland--Thereza and Sabrina Simon. Hardly over thirty years old, and just like that," she snapped her fingers, "they were gone."

"Were they anybody..."

"Well known? No, not really. They lived down in Chipping Sodbury, and the article said that they were both seamstresses for a local wizarding hat shop. I think they even had a child each. So sad..."

Harry grimaced. "I know Hermione's on the case. So far, she's been able to find a direct link between each of the victims and a Death Eater. She's convinced that these deaths for the pieces of a puzzle-- she's just having trouble reading the picture. I'm surprised I haven't heard from her or Ron--"

"Harry?"

Harry was surprised by Sophie's sudden interruption, and more specifically, the look of fright on her face.

"Sophie," he said gently, "what's wrong?"

Sophie lowered her gaze. "Well... there's something I really need to tell you... only having you here in front of me... it makes me realize just how much of a coward I am."

"Sophie, what are you talking about?"

"I'm trying to find an easy way of telling you... but there is no easy way of telling you..."

"So just tell me already!"

Sophie inhaled shakily. "I... I'm not going to be able to see you anymore, Harry."

"What do you mean, 'see me anymore'? I hardly get to see you as it is!"

"I know that. I mean... see you like this. Together. You and me."

Now, this unexpected change of subject sent Harry reeling, and he was desperately trying to catch up. "Sophie," he said with a hopeful laugh, "what, are you saying that you don't want to be with me anymore?"

A single tear fell down her cheek... and Harry's smile vanished.

"Harry... more than anyone else, I really believe that you deserve the most beautiful sort of love that the world has to offer..."

Harry smiled, "And I'm looking at--"

"NO!" Her austerity surprised him. She was flushed and had to take a breath to calm her voice. "No... you're not looking at her. That's what I've been both wanting and dreading to tell you for... quite some time now. The person you're looking at is a shaking, terrified, gutless little girl who thought she could handle being in love with someone as wonderful as you are, Harry. And as it turns out, I realize that I am just a scared little kid who could never make you happy... and happiness is what you deserve... it's what you need."

"You're mad, Sophie! Happiness is what everyone needs, and you make me happy! Just the thought of you--"

"You see me, what, once every three months or so--"

"And in the summer I can see you--"

"--and you'll discover me to be the fraud I really am."

"You make no sense, Sophie. We... we love each other... how is that a fraud? Don't... don't you love me?"

Sophie's tears were now streaming down her cheeks. "Months away from somebody... things can happen... not for you maybe, but for me... spending months away from someone is an invitation to all sorts of things... and feelings..."

What the hell is she talking about? Why is she saying this?

"But... but that night in the Astronomy Tower..."

"I know... I've said a lot of things..." she hesitated before going on. "You know... when Mum met Dad, she didn't fall in love with him at first sight. Dad fell hard right away, but with Mum? She just wasn't sure. But then, the weeks turned into months... and one day, she just knew. She knew that she loved him."

"For Merlin's sake, Sophie, I'm not asking you to marry me!"

"I know that Harry, but--"

"How do you know that given time you won't find the same thing happening to you like what happened to you Mum?"

"Because, Harry... I've already had time. A whole year almost."

"What about the times you've said 'I love you'? All the times you held me so close and whispered that you needed me, I mean, bloody hell Sophie, that's real!"

"I... wanted so very much for it to happen... I was doing everything I could to make me believe that I was really feeling it."

"So, what, have you just finally realized that you're never going to feel it?"

"I'm sorry, Harry... I'm so very sorry... I let things get entirely too far out of control... and this is the last thing I wanted to do. The last thing I ever wanted to do was to hurt you."

Harry could say nothing-- how could he? He wasn't entirely sure this was even really happening!

"I wanted to talk to you so many times, but you were so god damn wonderful to me all the time. You had to be so god damn strong, and funny and sweet... and damn your eyes, they turned me into a coward every time I ever thought of talking about this..."

"So now it's my fault that we've been together almost a year and you've only just now thought to tell me that you've never loved me?"

She was shaking her head. "I am a fool, Harry, I know. You are probably the only truly wonderful person that I'll ever know... I watched the girls at Hogwarts, and even on the streets, look at you and wish... and here I am and I've had you all this time..."

"That's bollocks, Sophie. I'm not wonderful--you're just Sainting me. Everyone is flawed, we're all humans."

Sophie's tears were now great crocodile ones as she continued, "And you know what's the most pathetic bit of all? I never told you because I didn't want to hurt you. I'd rather have gone along and tried to force myself to love somebody I'd be a god damn fool not to love... only I can't change the fact that I'm a god damn fool."

Sophie's words hung around him, circling in the air along with the smoke and the smell of alcohol. He was too numbed to quite let those words sink in.

"Please, Harry, for God's sake say something."

"What am I supposed to say?"

"That you... that you understand."

The numbness melted. All at once he felt it. He felt everything.

"NO," he shouted, not caring if the other patrons were disturbed or not, "I don't understand, no Sophie, I don't. You can't expect me to just say 'oh, sorry to hear that' and go right on with my life as though nothing happened because, dammit Sophie, you're a part of my life. Your love, what I thought was your love, well, it completed me and now you want to walk away and leave me with an entire part of me missing!"

Sophie was now perfectly serious and her voice shook with fervor.

"No, Harry. You don't need me to complete you. You'd never have been happy with me, not in the end, not when you could finally feel the insincerity within me. You'd have hated me, just as you do now, but even more so. You deserve what your Mother and Father had... that sort of love that... some of people go there whole lives without finding it..." Sophie laughed wildly. "It doesn't happen to people like me-- people who are phonies, frauds and too damn scared to understand the sort of fidelity it involves. That sort of love... like James and Lily, like my Mum and Dad... that sort of love is as rare as the sort of people it happens to." Sophie smiled. "And I know it'll happen to you, Harry, because... unlike me... you are that sort of person."

"No," said Harry, grabbing hold of her hand, "you're wrong, Sophie, it can happen to anyone. You just have to stop being afraid! Sophie... please..."

"Don't, Harry, don't," she said with a strange calmness, "this is right. And deep down, you must know it too."

"I... I can't believe that you'd even say something like that, Sophie. The only thing that I know deep down is that... things are right with you around."

Sophie lowered her head. "That'll change, Harry. And when it does, you'll know that it's for the best."

Harry ran his hands through his hair. "Then... what the hell am I supposed to do?"

"Say goodbye," she whispered.

"That's it? Just 'say goodbye'? Dammit Sophie, after almost an entire bloody year?"

Sophie's hands shook as she put them to her face. She held Harry's stare for one long, last moment, and then she stood up abruptly from the table.

"Goodbye, Harry."

Harry watched in horror as she hurried out of the pub.

He was motionless. Unaware of and unconcerned with the pub goers' eyes that were glued on him. She's leaving me... all this time she hasn't loved me... it can't be true... not after an entire bloody year... there must be something else.

"Bollocks to this," he muttered and hopped up from his seat.

Harry burst out of the pub. His eyes frantically scoured the streets, desperate to find her--he had to stop her. He had to get to the bottom of it all.

"OY! SOPHIE!"

She was stepping onto one of the purring buses at the next door station, and Harry ran after her, grabbing hold of her arm.

"Please Harry, just let me go--"

"NO! I won't just let you go without telling me the truth. Now, you say that you weren't really in love with me, okay fine, I'll have to come to terms with that. But what else is it, Sophie? Was it someone else? Was it?"

She yanked her arm out of his grasp, her eyes darkening.

Harry was enraged, and kept raising his voice. "Maybe someone closer to you? Someone more convenient?"

"You bastard! How dare you!"

"What, didn't they call you "Snogging Sophie"? Old habits die hard, right?"

Her face was red, and when she spoke her voice trembled. "Shut up Harry, you flipping idiot! Just shut up!"

"Not until you tell me the real reason you're dumping me! What's his name, Sophie? Who is it? Someone I know?"

Sophie took a step down and placed her face right into Harry's-- a face that was still pretty despite the splotches from tears and the wear under her eyes. And when she spoke, it was wild and unrestrained, her emotions flying and her words matching Harry's in their anger.

"You want to know? FINE! No, I haven't been sleeping about London as you so obviously want to believe! Damn you to hell Harry: I REFUSE to loose anyone close to me ever again! My mother died because of dark forces and YOU... do you know how many times I've almost been sick worrying about you? You just can't seem to stay out of danger, can you! I've seen what murder does to people-- my Dad is a walking shell because of it! He still screams in the night, and so do I! And when you finally get yourself BLOWN UP like your Mum and Dad, I know I'll end up just like my Dad! And I'm not going to--"

Harry didn't know why or how, but the mere mention of his parent's names made him snap. He grabbed hold of her arm again and squeezed it, half hoping to snap it in half.

"Ouch! Harry, you're--"

"My parents died honorably! Just like your mother. They didn't run away from things. They faced life! Maybe you should take a lesson from that! What are you going to do: go through life cutting yourself off from people the minute you start to get scared?"

She pulled away from him. The bus was shaking now, ready to take off.

Sophie shook her head. "I'm sorry, Harry... I just can't handle it..."

The bus door creaked and slid shut, and in an instant Harry was lost in the thick bus exhaust. It rattled and then roared off down the street, leaving Harry on the pavement feeling as alone as he'd ever felt in his life.

*

"Jesus Christ, Harry, what happened to you last night? You didn't come home-- Jesus, but you look a mess!"

Indeed Harry didn't go home after Sophie left him. Now that fatigue was crushing in on his body, making it hard to even move, it was getting difficult to remember just where he had gone. He remembered walking... the surroundings were unfamiliar, but he'd just kept going forward... walking... trying to make sense of things.

He was only just now getting his bearings together. It couldn't have been later than seven or so in the morning, with the way the sky was fighting to change from black to muted blues and yellows. Harry had been pounding on the front door to number four for what felt like ages. Dudley was in his sweatpants and jumper and Harry knew he must have looked pretty much the same way he felt: like a wreck.

Dudley turned Harry towards the kitchen, and pulled out the kettle, filling it with tap water. "What the hell have you been doing? You look like you were in a fight and lost."

"You're right," said Harry with a weakened, scratchy voice. "I've lost Sophie."

Dudley froze, the tap water running overtop the kettle. "What did you say?"

"She broke up with me. Let me go."

Dudley switched off the tap and took a seat across from Harry, his voice hushed in quiet disbelief. "But... why?"

"Apparently, she's finally come to terms with the fact that she's never loved me."

"I don't believe that."

"Neither did I... at first. But... well... it's true, Dudley. All this time... she's been trying to force herself into loving me. Said that she 'knew she should.' Even went so far as to tell me she knew she'd be a 'fool not to love me.' But she said she couldn't pretend anymore since it wasn't fair."

"I... but... you were so close... even an idiot could tell it was real... you were so close."

"I was only close to the part of Sophie that she was allowing me to be close to. And what really does it for her is that she thinks I'm going to end up getting killed, like her Mum and my parents, and she apparently can't handle things like that."

Dudley was having trouble stomaching this. "She can't handle it... that's... selfish, isn't it?"

"Yeah, that's crossed my mind a couple times."

"How... how did she act?"

"How do you think she acted? She kept sobbing her eyes out, telling me how sorry she was, and that the last thing she wanted to do was to--"

"To hurt you?"

Harry stared at Dudley and nodded slowly. "That's right."

"Yeah... when I talked to Sophie all those months ago and told her that with the way she was always so affectionate and considerate to me, I'd thought she liked me-- especially since she was always telling me how much she liked me--she told me that very same thing: 'she never meant to hurt me'." Dudley's eyes were staring through Harry, not at him, and Harry could see his mind racing. "But this is different. You and her, well, you're Harry and Sophie! Everyone knows about you two. And now... all this time she was lying to you..."

"I'd rather not think of it as lying... 'pretending' is a much nicer word, thanks."

"But the right word is lying. That means that--oh..."

Harry looked up. "That means what?"

Dudley's face was somewhere between fright and excitement. "Oh hell, Harry. What a wanker, eh? I must be a complete tosser..."

"Huh?"

"I've been angry with you all this time..." Dudley let out a laugh, a wild, incensed one that struck Harry as terribly odd. "I hated you Harry, you know that. I hated you because she cared about you and not about me... and now... I realize... what the bloody hell does it matter? Even if she hadn't let you go last night, what the bloody hell does it matter..." his laughter was growing, "it doesn't matter! Not in the slightest!"

"Dudley..." Harry said gently, "what do you--"

"Jesus," Dudley cried, still ranting, "I just can't believe this is happening. I'm..." he let his eyes finally look right into Harry's, "I'm sorry, mate. So sorry. You look so awful... I can only imagine how you feel."

"Well, the way I look pretty much sums up how I feel."

Dudley shook his head sadly. "You... you really liked her, didn't you."

"What sort of a bloody question is that, of course I did. I let her in-- I let her know more about me and my fears and all that than I ever have to anyone. And now to find out that it didn't mean anything to her..."

But he couldn't finish the sentence. It was hurting too much.

Dudley's eyes were wide and understanding. "I... haven't really been there for you, mate. Not for a long time. I went crazy with jealousy about you and her... would've done anything to make you pay for... for being what she wanted."

"Looks like we both lost."

"Aye. Anyway, I'm sorry. And I promise, starting right now, I'm gonna put things right..." he sighed and repeated again, "what a tosser I was... what does it matter..."

Harry was by now aching with sleep, so Dudley skipped the tea and walked him up to his bedroom.

"Tell you what," said Dudley, "whenever you wake up, what you say to the two of us going and getting sloshed?"

Harry managed a smile... just before he collapsed onto his bed.

*

Harry was standing in a field, surrounded by sunflowers at least fifteen feet high. All of which seemed quite pleased that he'd decided to take up their invitation for tea. The tea was sweet to the taste and it lifted him right up out of there!

By the time he reached the second floor again, he'd already missed his turn at chess. But there was Sophie, sitting on the floor and smiling at him, telling him not to worry that he'd missed his chance because he could use her bus fare to take the floo network back home. But Harry hated floo powder, and swimming sounded like a much more reasonable means of travel, so he dove out the window and into the channel...

But it wasn't really the English channel because the water was warm and golden and he suddenly realized he swimming inside of a Butterbeer bottle. And as he tried to swim out of it, a massive hand came from nowhere and corked him in... a massive hand belonging to... Lucius Malfoy? 'I've got you now,' Lucius was saying, 'just you try and escape!'

What the bloody hell was THAT about?

Harry burst awake, and a severe burning struck his forehead. He laid perfectly still, waiting for the aching to die down which it eventually, and stubbornly, did.

He squinted to see what time it was on the clock near his bed... half past eleven. He'd slept right through the entire day and into the late night! Harry couldn't even remember the last time he'd done such a thing!

He rubbed his eyes and yawned deeply. Had he ever known such dreams? And just why had he been swimming in a beerbottle anyway?

Well, of course Sophie was in it... Dudley said we should get sloshed just before I went to bed... I'm sure that's where the butterbeer came from...

But trying to make sense of such strange curiosities quickly proved tiresome. He let his head fall back down onto the pillow, quite surprised to find his neck was wet from some very intense sweating.

And adding to his discomfort was the fact that Dudley's dumb dog was barking.

Why on earth is that stupid dog barking in the middle of the night!

He tried to ignore it, but somehow, the barking just seemed to grow louder with every passing tick of the clock. Grudgingly, Harry threw off his covers and stumbled out of bed, his equilibrium off from having slept so very long.

Hedwig gazed up at him questioningly as he pulled open the window. "Hedwig," said Harry, "hear that barking? That is why you are the best pet than a bloke could ask for."

Hedwig's chest swelled and she cooed loudly and happily as Harry pushed open the bedroom window. "Listen here Eddie, do you know what time it is? Either you shut up or--"

Harry's voice caught in his throat, and everything suddenly became very, very quiet.

His gaze was locked on the dog staring back up at him in the garden below, its eyes strangely bright under the moon luster.

Only it wasn't Eddie.

It was Snuffles.