ATtD Ch16
Harry sat silently, pressed comfortably in the living room
chair. Yehl was about somewhere,
probably chasing some kids away from the yard.
Part of him envied the freedom that every one else had. Such a simple thing like leaving for a job,
or leaving for the gym, or just leaving was taken for granted. It would be nice not to have to worry about
being shot at with magic the second he left the house. Kind of made it one of his more dull
summers… beyond Vernon and the mass betrayal by his friends. At least he had something to take his mind
off it for now.
He raised his hand from where it had been resting on his chest. The little person there had been quite distressed for a while but had finally calmed now. He probably should have been wondering why he could sense a person there-it was a little odd-and he had found nothing in the dark book about it. He didn’t mind; it made him feel less alone.
Turning the page of his book on Alternative Forms of Magic, he let his mind drift back to his dream last night. It was fleeting, right at the edge of his consciousness. Some how he knew he had to remember it; it had been bothering him all morning. What he could remember of it had centered within the quidditch field.
Like many of his dreams, before the nightmares had taken over his sleep, the field was alight, surrounded by a colorfully dressed crowd cheering loudly at his antics while he zoomed past players and dodged bludgers as gracefully as he did when awake. The crowd had gasped at his fake out where he narrowly missed an elbow to the face. They had cheered when he twisted in the air doing loop-de-loops and barrel rolls all the while his eyes searching for that elusive glimpse of gold. The roar that had shook the stands when his hand had closed around the glittering snitch, feathers tickling his palm, filled him with such happiness all he could do was beam as his teammates tackled him in celebration. And when Draco Malfoy had held back, waiting until he was finally alone so he could offer his own congratulations, he had been left speechless. How could he not when Malfoy with a coy smile, had grasped his hand firmly and leaned in, “You were amazing out there, Potter, but I’ll thrash you next time,” falling from his lips in a low laugh? All he needed was the Championship Cup and everything would be complete. And wait, there was Bagman, looking well and grinning proudly, as he strode over with the trophy sparkling in his arms… and that was when it stopped being a dream.
It was also when Harry’s memory went fuzzy, as if someone was trying to block it from his mind. All that was left was the broken remnants of a song and the sensation of darkness. Rubbing the center of his chest idly, he strained, pulling at the pieces of the song but it was no use. He couldn’t break through the fog. He shifted as warmth grew beneath his fingertips. The critter was waking again. Smiling, he pulled his book closer and began reading about voiceless magic.
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He raised his hand from where it had been resting on his chest. The little person there had been quite distressed for a while but had finally calmed now. He probably should have been wondering why he could sense a person there-it was a little odd-and he had found nothing in the dark book about it. He didn’t mind; it made him feel less alone.
Turning the page of his book on Alternative Forms of Magic, he let his mind drift back to his dream last night. It was fleeting, right at the edge of his consciousness. Some how he knew he had to remember it; it had been bothering him all morning. What he could remember of it had centered within the quidditch field.
Like many of his dreams, before the nightmares had taken over his sleep, the field was alight, surrounded by a colorfully dressed crowd cheering loudly at his antics while he zoomed past players and dodged bludgers as gracefully as he did when awake. The crowd had gasped at his fake out where he narrowly missed an elbow to the face. They had cheered when he twisted in the air doing loop-de-loops and barrel rolls all the while his eyes searching for that elusive glimpse of gold. The roar that had shook the stands when his hand had closed around the glittering snitch, feathers tickling his palm, filled him with such happiness all he could do was beam as his teammates tackled him in celebration. And when Draco Malfoy had held back, waiting until he was finally alone so he could offer his own congratulations, he had been left speechless. How could he not when Malfoy with a coy smile, had grasped his hand firmly and leaned in, “You were amazing out there, Potter, but I’ll thrash you next time,” falling from his lips in a low laugh? All he needed was the Championship Cup and everything would be complete. And wait, there was Bagman, looking well and grinning proudly, as he strode over with the trophy sparkling in his arms… and that was when it stopped being a dream.
It was also when Harry’s memory went fuzzy, as if someone was trying to block it from his mind. All that was left was the broken remnants of a song and the sensation of darkness. Rubbing the center of his chest idly, he strained, pulling at the pieces of the song but it was no use. He couldn’t break through the fog. He shifted as warmth grew beneath his fingertips. The critter was waking again. Smiling, he pulled his book closer and began reading about voiceless magic.
ATtD Chapter Index Links