Journey of Legends

Chapter Three: The difference Between Dreams and Reality

He'd never been here before, being it awake or dreaming, although that was soon becoming less of a novelty. Harry stood some where on a long road. It did not stretch out in front of him for miles but instead twisted and turned and somehow, Harry knew it was an immensely long road. He was in the middle of an impenetrable forest and up ahead, he could see something moving through the trees, so Harry took off at a run.

The figure took on a more human appearance as it moved through the trees and then suddenly it wasn't there anymore. Harry drew to a stop so quickly he almost lost his balance. As he stumbled forward, avoiding any impact with the gravel, he felt his head hit something fleshy. Looking up, he heard the familiar laughter of Dumbledore and saw the face that went with it.

His relief at seeing someone so dear to him washed over him in a wave of warmth and comfort. But then a thought struck him. "Professor. Why aren't you among the warriors?"

Dumbledore looked at him for a moment with the same twinkle in his eyes as he always did, told Harry that he wasn't sure he should tell him why. "Because, Harry. Not all battles are fought in the present. Sometimes we must wait for the present to come to us." Harry was puzzled by what this could mean but suddenly, Dumbldore was gone as he'd never been and the road twisted on ahead.

There it was again, the shape rushing through the forest. Harry now saw it as a boy about his own age, possibly a bit younger, with sandy blonde hair and a panicked look. Harry went after him at a run. As he ran, the openness of the area where he had begun the journey was clouded over with trees and the sun as well as the sky was long gone.

Suddenly he spotted a head covered in bright red hair. He knew that hair. The familiarity of it fell on him like a blow to the gut. It was Ginny! In a burst of speed that can only be achieved in dreams, Harry was off. The shape he'd been following before was fading into the trees in its search for whatever it was searching for but Harry only had eyes for that bright red hair.

Out of the corner of his eye though, he spotted something else worth stopping for. Hermione and Ron stood on the wayside of the road in a single shaft of sunlight. Harry expected Ginny to stop as well but instead she sped up. Harry just stood looking at his two friends. As he stood there they both burst into flames. They remained as impassive as before but the winds swept the fire upwards and smoke shut out the sun from that tiny patch of forest. The smoke blinded Harry. When it cleared, he could hardly believe his eyes.

Before him, the bonfire burned bright but his friends had been replaced by a painting in a large gilt frame. But more striking than that was the subject of the painting. It was Harry! It was himself and Ron and Hermione and Ginny! He remembered this painting but even in dreams he refused to think about what had passed. It was just too painful.

Harry stared at the picture and soon noticed that the subjects of the portrait existed once more in the flames just as Ron and Hermione had earlier. They did not see the flames licking at their robes. A girl sat before them with a stick of charcoal in her hand, busy working on a sketch. Harry remembered her too, but blocked that memory from his mind.

Behind him, Harry could hear the soft notes of a piano playing. He turned around only to find himself, once more, in a place he did not know. But the person seated behind the piano was, again, some one he knew. Elyzabel Petty sat picking out the gentle notes of Beautiful Dreamer. He was so wrapped up in her music and for a moment, her horribly disfigured face didn't matter. Her hands danced like spiders across the keys wringing forth notes that sent chills down Harry's spine. In that instant, she wasn't the lost girl he'd met that day with no idea who she was. This was the real thing. This was her heart and soul being coaxed out of the ancient wooden instrument.

Harry's dream world came back into focus and he could hear small pitiful sounds coming from another corner. Looking over he saw Alexa lying on the floor, her arms were tightly wrapped around her midsection and sweat rolled from her face. Harry could tell she was dying but found he was unable to go comfort her. Dane walked out of the wall next to her frail form. The figure Harry had chased there followed them out. It was a boy about his own age wearing the Ravenclaw crest on his robes. Harry watched as the trio faded from view.

Elyzabel's song had changed and while it was still familiar, he couldn't place it. Turning around, he was confronted with the painting on the wall once more. The artist sat before it with her back to Harry. Leaning forwards, he gently laid a kiss on the image of Ginny's lips. It was one of many uncontrollable dream actions, but it never the less set several things in motion at once.

Ginny's face warped into that of a vampire with fangs and all while the painting itself became a wizard painting. The artist stood and held a hand out to Ginny who reached through the canvas and took it. The other images in the frame seemed frightened but angry as Ginny's voice floated over the soft piano notes. "You saved me."

"What?" Harry asked, but no one answered. Fire once more flooded the room and when it cleared Elyzabel and Harry were the only things left in the scarred room. "Elyzabel. What's... What's going on?" Harry asked.

"That's not my name." Gone from her voice was the fear and uncertainty that had marked their meeting. This seemed an entirely different person. Harry blinked and when he opened his eyes he was right back where the dream had started. Once more the road stretched endlessly in front of him and Harry knew that if he began to walk it again it would turn out different.

The voice floated over the trees. He didn't know who's it was but it came none the less. "Go, Harry. Start this journey. You can't finish the others until you do. Go. Run!" And he ran.

***

"Can you understand me now?"

Sean's voice seemed to echo in the stillness of the library. No one else was around but the two of them. Who else but a history nut and a newly risen woman would have use for books at that hour? She gave him a puzzled look.

"Guess that would be a 'no' then," he said. She raised an eyebrow at him questioningly.

"Why don't we just give up for tonight? We can find a translating spell in the morning." Her voice was soft and Sean stumbled along after her ancient Gaelic speak.

"One more try" He suggested, as best he could. At her giggle he assumed he'd somehow muddled it up. Oh well.

The pile of books before them included such titles as Translating for Dummies, English Spells for the Advanced, and English: Grade Six-which incidentally was simply filled with endless and needless names for grammar and parts of speech. None of them were much help.

"Here!" Alexa exclaimed. "Look!" Sean pulled the book towards him.

"Hablas semejante demelo?" He said confused as a curl of glittery purple smoke curled out of his wand and into Alexa's mouth.

"Yes!" She said in perfect English. "We found it! Thank you so much!" She leapt to her feet and gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek. "I will see you later, no? Good night!" And so obviously pleased she left Sean reeling in the fact that he had just received his first kiss from a woman who was supposed to be long dead.

***

Divin had been admired all of his life. As a spy and captain of the army he had been hailed from shore to shore all over the world. During those bright times, when he had his family and friends and everything else a man could ask for, he was so very happy. But when all of that changed, when the dark began growing stronger by the second. He truly thought he could never be that happy again.

His world was crushed under the weight of the nightmares that plagued his sleep of watching his wife die and his children tortured. He had been so helpless. For so long been such a strong man but in those hours of darkness, his true weakness had shown through. It was something he could never find forgiveness for.

So then what had happened? For that single moment in Helena's arms he was once more the happy man but could not admit that he was happy without his wife. He felt it was cheap and a disgrace to her memory. And now he'd ruined what ever he might have once had with Helena.

"You're a broken man, Japelle," he told himself. "Once more, you've messed up something perfectly." And with that glomming thought, he walked slowly towards his home.

***

Just on the other side of the castle at that moment, the object of Divin's confusion sorted through her own thoughts. "I was a fool. Mother always told me, 'stay away from those wizards, Helena. They're bad news. They're what got us into this mess in the first place.'"

And so for years, Helena has avoided them. In school she had ignored them and now as an adult she had been doing the same. But how can you ignore some one when they seem to be everywhere. That first meeting with him had scared her out of her wits, but she had grown used to his peeress as time went on and even began to enjoy it.

So what had happened? He'd called her Mary that's what. It hurt her more than she could have ever guessed it would to know that he wasn't in love with her. He loved some other woman.

"I'll bet she's prettier too," she muttered bitterly. "I'll bet she doesn't stammer like an idiot in front of people. I'll bet that's why he loves her." Uncontrollable tears rolled down her face as she waked slowly towards the nearby town.

It was once a wizarding town but had been taken over by muggle refugees about fifty years ago. She lived in a tiny shack out by an outcropping of rocks behind the town. Her roof leaked so whenever it rained she went into one of the caves. She loved it in there. It looked like some one had lived there a very long time ago. She had found the place where this person lit their fires and threw their bones. Thankfully none of them were human. "Humans break too easily," she thought.

***

While Sean sat in a state of post-first-kiss-bliss, his brother Richard did much the same. Only it wasn't his first kiss. To be precise it was his twenty-first. Each and every single one of them had been with the same woman... uh... girl. But none-the-less, this kiss felt like the each had. Like it was the first.

To Richard Milo, Adela Hudson was the best thing that ever happened to him. She lit up every corner of his life Dan yet he had no idea about the torch she carried for his own brother. If he'd known, he sure as hell wouldn't be up here in their own secret place talking about the plans, which had been laid bare before the entire school a few nights before. Well, not with Adela at any rate.

"It's so weird isn't it? To think that we can bring a person back from the dead at any time. If I were choosing who came back from our own time I know would I wouldn't pick." Adela's hate for the Slytherin girl burned bright and Rich tried to steer away from that topic.

"I wonder if we'll get to meet them. I mean imagine, Harry Potter! Not just one of those pictures on the wall. The real thing... Listen to me, I sound like Sean now." She giggled softly and snuggled closer.

"I think I'd want to meet Marcus Cabot. He sounds like he'd be really neat doesn't he? Professor Binns should talk more about them than his stupid goblin rebellions!"

Rich laughed. "Yeah, or how many times Harry Potter saved the world."

"I swear, that's the only time he shows any enthusiasm. 'Now some of you may know that young mister Potter used to be in my class. He sat in these same desks. Good kid he was.'"

They both spent a minute in silence staring at the painting. It seemed as if the black haired boy knew he was the subject of their conversation. "Wow," Richard began. "To think that he's really-"

But Adela cut him off. "-I bet that Slytherin twit thinks she's good enough to get noticed by one of them! She thinks she's so perfect! I stand by my belief that all Slytherins are evil. She thinks she's such hot stuff. 'Oh! Look at me! I live at the castle! I'm in Slytherin! I'm drawing a picture!' She can't even draw a wizard picture. She's too stupid!"

"Hey, go easy on her. Her folks are dead."

"Are you sticking up for her now?" Adela's voice dripped with something dangerous.

"No," he said slowly. "I'm just saying that even if you hate her you could at least give her a break and stop teasing her for a while. You know, see if she stops whatever it was that was pissing you off."

"Just being herself pisses me off, Richard."

"I just meant, lay off her for a while. You know, study for midterms. They can't be that far off now."

"It's not even Halloween."

"Just promise me?" he pleaded hopefully.

"Fine." He smiled.

"Thanks babe."

"Don't call me that."

"All right then."

"Rich?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up. I'm trying to sleep."

***

"Have you seen Milana?"

"Who?"

"Never mind." And Guy St. Cloude raced on down the hall. It was unusually crowed for the late hour. People knew that tonight was the night that Professor Beneyt was to bring the warriors back to life.

But the hows and whys of that particular thought were furthest from Guy's mind at that time. The turns and twists of the school's halls blurred until it seemed as one unending passage. Each face he passed held the same look of wonder. He heard snatches of conversations as he passed.

"I hear that one of them is crazy! That it's-"

"I hear that Max Harrison is-"

"-And that we get to meet them! Isn't that-"

"I wonder if he's as hot in real life as-"

But none of it mattered to Guy as he sped forwards causing several students to stop short and others to run into each other. But Guy was unaware of the chaos in his wake. None of it mattered... until he ran headlong into something that was defiantly NOT stone.

Looking up he found his gaze met by the strangest shade of purple eyes he'd ever seen. He was sure he'd never seen this person before.

"Are you all right?" She asked happily. Her accent was strange and Guy wondered what she had to be so happy about. But one thing was for sure; he didn't know her.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Looking closer at her, he realized that she was not a student by any stretch of the imagination. She looked about thirty or maybe a bit younger.

"Where are you going? Are you looking for some one? Maybe he can help?" She seemed happy just to be talking. "What's this?" It was then that Guy realized she held Milana's picture. "This is really good. You know, I used to paint before..." Her eyes glazed over and she looked ready to cry. Guy didn't know what to make of it.

"I'm looking for the girl who drew it. Can you help me find her? This girl... another girl... she insulted her and well, I'm worried about Milana."

"Is Milana the artist?" Guy had decided he liked the way this Oman spoke, like a child almost. With wonder and fear mixed in her every word. "I will help you find her. I would like to meet this artist who can capture people so well."

And so Guy found himself with a companion in his hunt. Her name was Alexa but this did nothing to faze Guy. It didn't even connect in his head who she might be. She was just there to help him and for all he knew, she might be a gift from the gods. So with her claming influence, he searched methodically throughout the castle.

***

He'd never been kissed before. That's what fist kiss meant though right? It did not faze the boy that it had come from one of the people he was constantly reading about.

"What a joke," he told himself. She was happy. That's got to be the best thing that has happened to her all night. First, coming back from the dead and then not understanding a word anyone was saying to her. Sean thanked his stars that he'd been gifted with a thing for languages. It was the one thing he had that he could truly be proud of. His knowledge of history wasn't even his own. That was something his father had forced on him.

But maybe... Could Alexa's kiss have possibly meant more to her than a thank you? Part of him prayed that that was the case. But another part of him feared it. She was dead and destined to die again. Sean didn't know if he could live with that. Live with knowing he would, in all likelihood, outlive her by a very considerable amount.

She would die in battle because they planed on forcing her to fight when every one knew it was her mind that was her weapon. She would be a sitting duck on the battlefield.

But Sean was a student. Professor Pullium had only admitted him into his confidence so far. He, as a student, would never be allowed on the field. Something Sean almost hated.

"God speed Alexa. And good luck... to both of us."

***

Alexa held the picture firmly in her hand as she made her way carefully through the almost familiar halls and corridors. She had an idea of where the girl might be. From what Guy had told her, Milana spent a lot of her time locked away in her room. So that was where Alexa was headed.

In her own time, Alexa had been a Slytherin. That had been way back when the school was first founded. Back before all Slytherins were considered evil. When Godric and Rowena had been so madly in love that they turned a blind eye to almost every wrong turn Salazar took. Back when... Her mind boggled at the thought of all the time that was passing. But she pushed out these thoughts not wanting to be impeded with what she could never change. There would be another time to grieve. Later.

With an unwavering speed, she made her way down to where her own dormitories had once been. Praying that they still stood there, she kept her eyes and ears open for any clue of a password or change of location.

Two boys walked towards a painting of a tall man with dark hair. He was slumped in a chair in a potions classroom with a look of weariness on his face that Alexa knew well. As the boys approached the man looked up. "Password?" His voice was oily smooth with a dangerous edge to it that reminded her of Xira.

The boys ignored him and stopped beside the irate looking man. "I can't believe it! Harry Potter! Here!"

"Yeah! And... and... Dane Irish!"

The painting sneered. "Harry Potter was nothing more than a teacher's pet who had his way paved for him by the deaths of his parents." He snapped out at them. "Trust me. I was his teacher!"

The boys exchanged bewildered looks and one blurted out, "elf blood" and ran inside the opening created by the word. Alexa stared at the painting before approaching and repeating the password to a still puttering picture.

"Oh yes! I remember Potter. Called me 'Snape' all the time! Only ever called me 'professor' to my face. So he's back huh? Hey! Aren't you a little old to be a student here?"

But she ignored him and found the room empty; just as she remembered it.

***

Milana lay on her bed. Not sleeping. Not thinking. Not moving. Hardly breathing. Just existing. The dark green velvet above her stretched and her fingers itched to draw the shadows and wrinkles of the ancient drapes.

Down the hall she could hear her dorm mates in the second years' dorm talking about the warriors they were bringing to life to night. Milana couldn't help but speculate what it must be like to be so well known... and so well liked. It seemed to the fifteen year old that no one liked her. She had no knowledge of Guy's nighttime searching that night.

But all that wondering got her nowhere. It gained her no fame, nor any popularity. Milana was never to learn that the two were often very different and this ignorance comforted her.

As she lay there, she heard the noise down the hall quiet and then resume and soon came a soft knock at the door. She didn't want to se anyone for who would want to see her?

"Come in," she said just loud enough to be heard. The door opened and in stepped a short woman with long black hair.

"Are you Milana?" She asked with an accent the girl on the bed had never heard before.

"Yes."

"A friend of yours was looking for you. You left this in the library." The woman held out her picture!

"Who gave this to you?"

"He said his name was Guy. He's a friend of yours? She made it a question.

"No he's not. I don't have any friends." As soon as the morbid words were out of her mouth, Milana regretted them.

"Sure you do. Friends worry about you. Guy was really worried."

"Yeah well everyone knows he's not all there." There was a long silence. "Can I have my picture now?" Milana held out her hand but the woman held on to it looking at it like she'd never seen any kind of art in her life.

"This is really good." She squinted at one of the figures. "This boy here looks like... that boy... umm... I think his name is Harry Potter?" Milana's head shot up.

"Really? Are you... are you one of the... well, you know. The ones they brought back?"

"I suppose you could say that. My name is Alexa."

Milana was floored. Why did this great legend of history and myth care anything about her? "Then why are you up here talking to me instead of down there with all the popular kids?" Milana asked with a cold edge creeping into her voice.

Alexa looked at her with a curious look on her face. After a pause she replied. "Because, they talk about what they wish us each to be like. Not how any of us truly are..." She shook her head. "We are humans who did the right thing well when we first lived. Everyone here expects us to do the same but don't see us as human. They see us as the legends that history has painted. But in truth, we are so different from what you could imagine. Do you understand what I'm saying here, Milana?"

Milana thought it over. "I think so. You're up here and not down there because I'm treating you like a person... which you are... or something like that."

Alexa laughed. It was a sweet sound that made Milana want to run to the warmth of. " And yes, to answer your earlier question, I do like the picture. I shall have to tell Harry about it in the morning." She got up to leave. "I'm going to bed now, but Milana?"

"Yes?"

"About the friends. I had a hard time letting people in when I was younger and that drove away a lot of people who might have been my friend. I see so much of that in you. Guy really likes you. Talk to him some time, huh?"

"I will." Milana's face broke into a grin for the first time in a long while. It felt good to have a friend. "Good night."

"Good Night."

***

The red haired vampire once more kept her vigil, but this time it was over a different youth. Harry Potter lay in the throws of a nightmare but the vampire could do little more than watch. Allowing him to she her was the last thing she wanted.

With a slight smile and soft kiss on his forehead, she was gone and in that instant, Harry awoke with a gasp to a new down, 1719 years after he should have been dead.