94Chapter 1: Only In My Dreams
August 31, 1998
Harry tossed and turned, the bedclothes tangling about him as he slept fitfully, an odd scene playing out in his subconscious. He was on a sprawling estate, taking in a picnic beside a shimmering lake. He wasn't alone, but for some reason, he was unable to discern the identities of his companions. Each time he turned to one of them, their figures evaporated.
"Come along, boys," said the elder.
Harry felt his hand being taken by a small soft one, and realized that he was not 18 years old, but a very young boy as well.
"Come on! May we eat under the willow, Father?" said the other boy in a small, excited voice. Harry thought something in the voices of the father and son sounded familiar, but he couldn't put his finger on it. He concentrated harder to bring their faces into focus, but to no avail.
Sunlight dappled the verdant grass beneath the veil of leaves draping the ground as they enjoyed sandwiches and pumpkin pasties and flagons of fresh juice as swans glided quietly by on the sparkling waters.
"Look! Dragonflies!" the other boy exclaimed. "I want a dragonfly, Father! Shall we catch one to take home?"
The father waved his wand and a net on a long handle appeared in front of them.
"Perseus needs a net too, Father," said the boy.
"I think not," replied the father, his voice cool.
The boy opened his mouth to protest, but seemed to think the better of it, and sighed heavily before perking up suddenly and grabbing Harry's hand.
"Come on, Perseus! We'll share!" Harry hung back a moment, wondering why the other boy called him Perseus, and wishing he could make out more than the expensive robes the young wizard wore. He reluctantly followed the boy out into the sunlight and was soon lost in the delight of pursuing the dozens of dragonflies that darted along the edge of the water, hiding in the tall grass. As he chased the ephemeral insects towards the other boy's enchanted net, he was startled by a flash of blue, unprepared to deflect the spell that flung him into the deep water of the lake.
Harry thrashed about willing his young limbs to cooperate and propel him to the surface. Each time he found himself above the water, the shore appeared further away. Eventually, he managed to cast a bubble-head charm and swim to the nearest bank. When he finally dragged himself from the water and collapsed, shrouded by the high grass and wildflowers, he could hear the distant and distressed shouts of the other boy.
"Perseus! Father, we have to find him! Per-see-uss! Father!" screamed the tiny boy. Harry blinked away the water in his eyes and focused on the blurred figures across the vast body of water. He could see the man tugging at the boy, who resisted, pulling away, and running towards the water. "No! We can't go without him! Per-see—" The man struck the boy across the face, knocking him to the ground. His voice was barely audible above the sudden strong gust of wind that blew across the water, lifting the shoots of the aged tree.
"That is enough, Draco!"
A sudden stabbing pain creased his brow and ended as abruptly as it began, and Harry bolted up in bed, his hand going to his head as he panted heavily. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself. The pain meant nothing. There was no reason to associate it with his dream. After all, that's all that it was—a dream. Still, Harry wondered who this Perseus boy was and why was Draco Malfoy so desperately looking for him.
Harry disentangled himself from his linens and cast about for his glasses, finally summoning them to his hand. He blinked a few times and peered at the clock on his bedside table. The numbers read five a.m. Reluctantly, he climbed out of bed, summoning his wand, and giving it a quick wave. A small tornado of clothes flew into the air and settled into a new school trunk. Another flick of his wand, and his school supplies arranged themselves before the lid closed and latched itself.
After much urging from Professor McGonagall and a special plea from the new Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Harry decided to return to Hogwarts to complete his final year. As much as he would have preferred a simple life, Harry was still ever in demand and in the spotlight of the wizarding world. Every action he took was touted in the press as a ringing endorsement for, or a scathing denouncement of any number of products, entities or ideas.
In the few short months following the war, Harry had his name on an elite line of racing brooms from Ellerby and Spudmore, the makers of Firebolt, and top-of-the-line Quidditch armor sold exclusively by Quality Quidditch Supplies. In addition to his silent partnership with George Weasley in Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, Harry's likeness had been made into a miniature action figure, complete with fully-functional broom stunts and a wand that created tiny fireworks. It was an instant best-seller, and George could barely keep up with demand for the popular toy.
Therefore, it came as little surprise when the Minister and Headmistress came to him for help to boost enrollment ahead of the reopening of Hogwarts School. As many families had fled the country during the war, few had chosen to return while some other families considered educating their children at home. Professor McGonagall and Minister Shacklebolt hoped that a press release announcing the return of the Golden Trio—as he, Hermione and Ron had come to be known—as well as other distinguished fighters, like Neville Longbottom, would boost confidence in the school. Although enrollment was lower than past years, Harry was happy to learn that admissions replies had taken a significant uptick following the announcement.
Harry took a rushed shower and wanded away the fine stubble on his chin, before hastily dressing and making his way down the stairs, trunk in tow. As he heaved his trunk down the final flight of stairs at number twelve Grimmauld Place, the house which he'd inherited from his godfather, Sirius Black, Kreacher, the Black family's old and devoted house elf emerged from the dining room.
"Good morning, Kreacher," Harry grunted, struggling to keep his balance with the heavy piece of luggage.
"Master Harry is doing muggle labor," the aged elf said, pulling a frown.
"I'm only carrying my trunk, Kreacher."
"Does Master not own a wand?"
"I need the exercise," Harry replied, curtly. "If you're so concerned, you can go place this in the foyer. Everyone should be here shortly."
"Very well, Sir. Kreacher has pastries and coffee in the dining room." He snapped his fingers and the trunk rose into the air, following him as he shuffled away, muttering about muggle weakness.
Harry simply rolled his eyes and shook his head. As he descended the remaining steps, he heard a soft gong, alerting him to the floo and made his way to the library. He was greeted almost immediately upon sliding open the doors, by Hermione Granger, as she stepped out of the fireplace, followed by Ron and the Weasley family.
"Morning, all!" he smiled, greeting them. "There's coffee and pastries in the dining room."
Molly gave him an appraising look as they gathered around the table, helping themselves to Danishes and muffins.
"You look tired, Harry dear. Is something the matter?" she asked.
"I'm fine, Molly. I promise," he replied, taking out her chair before he sat. "Just had a bit of a late night, that's all."
"Oh? Why is that?" Ginny asked, biting into a cheese Danish. Harry gave her an odd look. Was her tone just a bit cool?
"I dunno," he shrugged. "I guess I'm a bit wary of going to the station. I hope the press isn't there. I'm just not up to having millions of flashbulbs in my face and reporters shouting inane questions about whether I'm being paid to go back to school or was I turned down by the Aurors."
"Hang on—you're being paid to go back to Hogwarts?" Ron asked.
"Of course not, Ronald!" Hermione frowned at him. "Professor McGonagall would never be so desperate. No offense Harry." Harry shrugged and poured a cup of coffee, spooning sugar into it. She continued, unabashed. "Besides, Harry wouldn't take it if she did offer. Right, Harry?"
He simply rolled his eyes and lifted his mug to his lips.
"Well, not to worry, Harry, old man. Kingsley mentioned that the press are barred from Platform 9 ¾. Minerva wants to allow the First Years and their families—especially the muggleborns to have as normal a start of term as possible," said Arthur.
"That's good to know," said Molly, as she stirred cream into her coffee.
"Normal is a bit of an understatement, innit?" said George. "After all, she appointed Ronald Weasley Head Boy."
"Sod off, George," Ron frowned at his brother.
"You'll do fine," Hermione assured him, noticing the pink tinge to his ears which always indicated Ron's nervousness.
"'Course he will," George continued to tease his baby brother. "He's got you beside him as Head Girl."
"That'll do, George," admonished Molly. "Your brother has more than proven that he is capable of performing admirably as Head Boy."
"Thanks Mum." Ron blushed deeply, looking at the new gold watch he'd purchased with some of the reward money he'd received following the war. "We should probably get a move on. Hermione and I have to meet the other prefects early."
The group hurriedly finished breakfast and piled into Harry's SUV to head to King's Cross Station. Once they unloaded, George created a diversion—causing a nearby taxicab to backfire—and Harry shrank the vehicle to the size of a toy miniature, placing it into his rucksack.
They made their way to the platform without incident and noticed a general hush fall over the crowd milling about the platform before a ripple of excited murmurs began to rise along with the cloud of steam from the scarlet locomotive at the head of the train.
Hermione and Ron quickly said their goodbyes and headed for the prefects' carriage, promising to meet Ginny and Harry later.
"Oh, you can't be serious!" George exclaimed. "What's he doing here?"
Harry and the others turned to see Draco Malfoy stepping away from the barrier, pushing a trolley with a large cage atop his trunk. His pale, white-blond hair had grown considerably, and was pulled into a neat ponytail. His jaw was set and his head held high as always, but Harry thought he detected a hint of apprehension in the Slytherin's expression as he hovered near the barrier, scanning the crowds, which gave him a wide berth as they bustled about.
"Condition of his pardon," said Harry. "He has to complete school and earn requisite N.E.W.T.s to qualify for Potions Mastery. Otherwise, he forfeits ownership of Malfoy Apothecary. With Lucius in Azkaban, the Apothecary can only be released to Draco if he is a certified Potions Master. In the meantime the company is in receivership by the Ministry."
He made eye contact with the other wizard and was startled to see Malfoy blush brightly before looking away. Harry stared curiously, but his attention was diverted when he felt someone tug on his sleeve. Harry turned to see a small girl with bright blue eyes and sandy curls gazing up at him in wonder.
"Hello," Harry smiled down at her.
"Constance!" Harry looked up again to see a tall boy dressed in Hufflepuff robes striding towards them. "You mustn't run off like that!" he scolded the girl. "Mum is in a panic!" he exclaimed. "Sorry, Harry. This is my little sister. Oh, I'm Sullivan, by the way. Sullivan Fawley."
"Oh, Sully! You found her!" An older witch with a long, graying braid rushed up to them, pulling the girl tightly into her arms.
"Look, Mummy! It's Harry Potter!" the girl exclaimed.
"Yes, dear—oh, my! I'm so sorry, Mr. Potter! Only Constance has never met anyone famous before." Mrs. Fawley took her daughter's hand. "Say goodbye to Mr. Potter, dear."
"Goodbye, Mr. Potter," she said, sadly.
"It was a pleasure to meet you Constance," Harry smiled.
"May I have your autograph?" she asked.
"Well, only if you promise not to wander away from your mum again. Although it's quite brave to be on one's own, sometimes it can be unsafe." Harry gave her a measured look.
"I promise!" she said. "I'm sorry, Mummy." The little girl cast her eyes down. Harry conjured a parchment and quill, signing his name to it, and handed it to her. Constance took the autograph and held it as if it were a translation of the Dead Sea Scrolls, gazing rapturously at him. "Oh, thank you!" she gushed, flinging herself at him and wrapping her arms about his waist. He returned the hug before the girl's mother tugged her away to make their farewells to Sullivan.
As they retreated, Harry found his gaze turning again to the blond near the platform barrier. Just then the train whistle sounded and the locomotive belched another cloud of steam, inciting a flurry of activity on the platform as straggling students hurried to board the train. When the haze cleared, the Slytherin had disappeared and Harry was once again startled to discover a tingling sensation in his brow.
"Harry?" Ginny gave his arm a tug. He shook off the odd feeling and turned to accept a hug from Molly and a pat on the back from Arthur before following Ginny onto the train.
As he followed her down the narrow corridor in search of an empty compartment, or at least one without wide-eyed young wizards and witches gawking at them, Harry spotted Draco again, ducking into a compartment a few feet ahead of them. He peered into the compartment when they approached.
"Malfoy?"
Draco, who had been looking nervously out of the window, jumped and spun around.
"Are you alright?"
"Why wouldn't I be?" Draco replied, recovering himself. "I sincerely hope that you aren't planning to find respite in this compartment." He eyed Harry with derision, but when their eyes met, Harry couldn't help but notice that tinge of pink coloring his cheeks once more. He arched a brow, and Draco's cool veneer cracked ever so slightly before he turned away.
"Leave it, Harry. Let's go," said Ginny. "Here's an empty compartment." She entered one a few doors away. Reluctantly, he moved on, but couldn't shake the image of Draco's expression from his mind.
"Is something the matter, Ginny?" Harry asked, as he lifted their trunks onto the overhead rack.
"What makes you say that?" she asked, settling into a seat beside the window and opening up a copy of Which Broomstick.
"Only you've been awfully cool since you arrived at Number Twelve this morning. Is it something I've done?" Harry sat down beside her.
"No, Harry. I'm fine. You're fine. Everything is peachy keen!" Ginny shrugged and turned a page in the magazine.
"Ginny—"
"Here they are, 'Mione!" Ron bustled into the compartment and dropped onto the seat across from them, heaving a sigh. "Merlin! First Years! No way were we like that!" he declared.
"Well, we weren't leaving home for the first time just a few months after the most heinous war of our lives," said Hermione, settling next to him. Ron smoothed her bushy tresses from his face as she leaned into his embrace.
"What happened?" Harry asked. He moved across the seat and relaxed into the corner opposite Ginny, stretching his legs out with a yawn, his restless night beginning to catch up with him.
"I don't know how many crying kids we had to console," Ron said. "Girls!"
"I beg your pardon!" Hermione retorted. "There were just as many boys sniffling and wiping their eyes on sleeves too. We asked the Trolley Witch to start her rounds a bit early. Hopefully a few sweets in their belly will help them to relax," she said.
"I'm sure they'll calm down eventually. We were all nervous when we first went to school too." Harry yawned again.
"Harry, you really do look awful. Perhaps a nap wouldn't do you any harm," suggested Hermione.
"I'm fine, Hermione. Really," he replied, closing his eyes.
"Yeah, you look it, mate," Ron scoffed lightheartedly, but Harry didn't hear him. The gentle rocking of the train had already lulled him to sleep.
Draco heard a distinct cracking sound as his head hit the window of the train compartment, and he groped for his wand.
"Have you gone mad, man?" Draco narrowed his eyes, pushing himself to his feet. "Don't play with me!"
"I think I'm the one who shouldn't be trifled with, Draco."
"I don't care!" Draco gave the other wizard a look of disdain. "I've told you, it's done and I'm not—" Before he could finish, Draco suffered a painful blow to his abdomen, followed by a backhanded slap which split his lip.
Draco let out a shocked gasp, his hand going to his face. He stared at the blood on his fingertips in shock. He raised his wand but the other wizard was faster, his stinging jinx hitting him square in the chest. Draco cried out, stumbling backwards.
"I've got much less to lose than you, Malfoy," he snarled, his wand still leveled at the fair-haired Slytherin.
Harry jolted awake, his hand flying to his forehead. Hermione and Ron stared at him in alarm. Ginny looked up from her magazine.
"Harry?" Hermione asked, cautiously.
"Huh-wha-what's going on?"
"Are you alright, mate?"
"I—why?" Harry pushed up his glasses and rubbed his eyes. He didn't want to share the fact that he'd just had a vision of Draco Malfoy being assaulted.
"Only you were—" Ron tapped his forehead.
"Harry," Hermione said softly, in a motherly tone. "Is your scar hurting?" She leaned forward.
"Don't be silly, Hermione. I'm fine." Harry waved off her concern. "It was just a reflex reaction, that's all."
"What's going on? Harry?" Ginny asked, looking at him curiously.
"But you were—" Ron began.
"Guys, relax!" Harry insisted, getting to his feet. "It's nothing. Everything is fine. It's going to be a great term, and I'm going to the loo."
After relieving his most urgent needs, Harry splashed water over his face, and then leaned against the lavatory sink and stared at his reflection in the mirror. Why was he suddenly dreaming of Draco Malfoy? He'd barely given the other wizard a second thought after the conclusion of the war tribunals, in which he had provided the testimony that ultimately absolved Draco and his mother, Narcissa, of their crimes. Lucius had not been quite so fortunate, and had received a life term in Azkaban.
While Narcissa and Draco had clearly acted in Harry's defense, refusing to identify him at Malfoy Manor, and lying to Riddle himself about Harry's death; Lucius had clung to some vestige of hope that Voldemort would spare his family and succeed in his mission. That he had taken his family and essentially fled the Battle of Hogwarts, rather than fight for either side, did little to sway judgement in his favor.
Harry's next confusing thought was why had his scar suddenly begun to tingle and throb with each of these experiences? The horcrux that had dwelled within him had been destroyed when Riddle cast the killing curse at him for the second time. There were no more; he knew that for a fact. So, how could he now suddenly be connected to Malfoy?
No. Harry shook his head. He would not entertain this. He'd spent six of the last seven years of his life stalking and bickering with Draco Malfoy. He wanted a life of peace, and he was determined to have it, whatever the cost. Hadn't he literally given his own life to have it?
Harry shook his head again and dried his hands, throwing open the door of the lavatory compartment. He was startled to find a slightly dazed and bleeding Draco Malfoy standing on the other side.
"Malfoy? What's happened to you?" he asked.
"I'm—just—" Draco shoved past Harry and lurched into the compartment, heaving the contents of his stomach into the toilet. Harry stood staring at the Slytherin as he dragged himself to his feet, gripping the sink tightly.
"Draco? Are you ill?"
"I-I'm fine, Potter. Please go—go a-away." Draco retched, but managed to hold on to his stomach. He kept his head down, aware that Harry was watching his reflection. He hated being seen in such a state, especially by him.
"What happened to your face?" Harry asked.
"Lost my grip on my trunk. Now, may I have a little privacy—please?" He finally lifted his head and met Harry's gaze in the mirror.
"If you're certain—" Harry still appeared unconvinced.
"I did say 'please,' Potter." His voice was cool, but Harry caught the plaintive expression in his face. He gave Draco a measured look and withdrew, sliding the compartment door shut.
It took him several minutes to get back to his compartment, owing to the number of students who stopped him as he passed along the train and the crowds around the Trolley Witch as she doled out candies and snacks. Blaise Zabini hovered in the open door of his compartment, leisurely jingling a handful of coins as he awaited the arrival of the Trolley. He gave Harry a disdainful smirk.
"Do you know what happened to Malfoy?" Harry asked as he approached.
"I'm sure I have no idea," Zabini replied coolly.
"Only, that's a pretty nasty cut on his lip for simply having lost his grip on a trunk. Besides, Draco doesn't strike me as the type to do manual labor when he has a perfectly good wand with which to levitate it. Do you know who he's sharing his compartment with?"
"I repeat, Potter, I have no idea. Besides, I don't see what concern that should be to you."
"Anything from the trolley, dears?" The old witch nudged Harry's hip with her cart as she approached. He opened his mouth to confront Zabini once more, but the Slytherin had moved to the snack trolley to make a purchase, effectively dismissing him.
While Harry was focused on purchasing pumpkin pasties from the Trolley Witch, Draco quietly slipped past him under the cover of the small crowd of students gathered at the cart, closing the compartment door before the Gryffindor could accost him. There was a box of chocolate frogs and a pumpkin pasty waiting for him. The compartment door slid open.
"Forgive me?"
Draco flinched noticeably and took a step back.
"I said, I don't want to do this anymore," he said, taking the offerings and setting them aside. "Why can't you accept that?"
"Because you don't really mean it, Draco. Don't you feel it too? You have to!" The other wizard grabbed his waistband, pulling him close. He placed a hand on Draco's cheek, brushing his thumb over his lips. Draco hissed as he touched the sensitive cut and surrounding purplish bruise at the corner of his mouth. He grabbed his wrist.
"But I don't. I just don't! It didn't mean anything. You can get angry all that you like, but it won't change things. How can you think that pushing me around and hitting me will make me change my mind?" Draco sat down heavily on the bench and picked up the pumpkin pasty, breaking off a piece of the crust. His stomach reminded him that he was in no condition to eat anything, and he set it aside again, heaving a sigh.
"But I said I was sorry, Draco. I don't know what came over me. I just—what you do to me!" The other wizard knelt in front of him and pointed his wand. "Episkey!"
Draco winced as his injured face healed itself. The other wizard leaned up to kiss him, but Draco turned his head and shrank away. An all new agony shot through him, via the lump on the back of his head, as his hair was grabbed, forcing his head back. Draco squeezed his eyes shut against the nauseating spinning sensation that accompanied the pain.
"Please!" he breathed, a tear escaping his eye. "Don't!" he begged.