The casewizard knelt beside Harry, his lips curled in a cruel smile as he brushed the boy's hair off his forehead, the gesture a parody of the caring one Harry'd had from Snape. "Draco isn't here," Darswaithe crooned, his words an echo of the Fat Lady's. "You didn't think a Malfoy would save you, did you?"
Harry tried to fling a fist into Darswaithe's smirking face, but his arms were pinned by the force of nerves cut adrift. Slack, unresponsive, he couldn't even back away when Darswaithe yanked him up into his arms and strode for the Floo.
They passed a table on the way, and as Darswaithe stalked past it, Harry noiselessly gasped. There it was, the mirror, the mirror Sirius had given him, and it wasn't even broken any longer! If only he could reach out and grab it! Sirius would help him, Sirius would tell him what to do!
Wingardium Leviosa, Harry thought, but of course nothing happened. Spells never worked any longer, not for him.
"The Dark Lord has a present for you," Darswaithe hissed in his ear as he stepped across the hearth. "I understand you do so love needles?"
What reason did he have to worry about needles when the act of Flooing itself would be the end of him? He was going to burn alive, like on Samhain. He'd be burnt clear through to ash. He'd be dead. Dead like Cedric, dead like Sirius, and after that, he'd never, ever have a father. Would Snape even miss him?
Sals would, Harry knew.
Sals!
Looking down, his neck the only joint he could really move, Harry spotted Sals in the corner of the fireplace. The smell of past Flooings filled the air around him as deep inside his mind, he thought, Oh Sals, what am I going to do? I really need that mirror! Sirius wouldn't let me burn, Sirius would tell me what to do...
The mirror, as if sensing his desperation, appeared before his face. Harry mouthed silent words at it, explaining, frantic because Darswaithe was reaching for the Floo powder now, his hand holding an ebony box though Dumbledore kept his in a brass urn, didn't he?
A face wavered in the mirror, a face he recognized and loved, Sirius' features swimming forth from the land beyond the Veil. Hardened by suffering and yet softened by love, he smiled out at Harry and began to speak, but before he could say a word, his face became ghostly, dissipating into a great swirling fog, and another man's face took its place.
A hooked nose, thin lips twisted into a sneer, dark eyes full of anger as Snape looked out of the mirror, glaring at Harry, and suddenly, Harry could see Sirius behind the other man! But if Snape was in the same place as Sirius, it meant that Snape was dead, too! Had he fallen through the Veil? No, no, that was Sirius. Harry couldn't remember Snape dying, but there he was, trapped in the Great Beyond! And he looked so furious as he glared out at Harry!
Harry tried to scream again, to explain. I didn't know you had died, Severus! It's not like I wanted you to die! It's not my fault, it's not my fault!
But he couldn't scream. He couldn't even call for Draco to help him! He was helpless, helpless to stop any of it--
Except, he wasn't.
He felt his magic lash out, a pulsating wave of wild power that filled his core and exploded outwards to blast the Floo powder away before it could fall to the ground. The shock wave loosened Darswaithe's grip; Harry fell hard to the hearthstones beside Sals, who crawled up over his hip to seek his wrist.
The snake wrapped herself around his wrist, her gold and maroon skin glittering like silver as she changed, becoming a gleaming bracelet he wore like a badge of honor as magic poured from his innermost core.
Darswaithe ran for the door, but it wouldn't open for him. He turned back toward Harry, his narrow face going slack with shock as he saw raw, unleashed power blazing forth from brilliant emerald eyes.
The magic streamed from deep inside Harry like water over a cliff, a raging torrent, enough to drench everything in its path. Wild magic, natural magic. Magic that knew nothing of boundaries; magic not leashed in by spells or incantations.
The stones that formed the walls became liquid and began to drip, the office around him melting, though he was safely ensconced in the Floo--
Darswaithe was all the way across the room, his brown eyes transfixed by terror.
But someone else was beside Harry, right alongside, one hand shaking his shoulder softly, very softly, as though afraid to startle him, as though he was a wild and dangerous animal, one who needed gentling...
Harry's eyes snapped open to see Draco so close he could feel the fall of his breath. Gasping, the Gryffindor flung himself into a sitting position, his hands clutching at his throat. His eyes wild, the magic still gushing out through his skin, he had to struggle just to breathe.
"It's all right, Harry," Draco said in a slow, hushed voice. "Just... quiet yourself, all right? Before the walls melt completely. Everything's fine, there's no reason to be afraid. You're awake now, the dream is over, it's all going to be all right..."
Draco's familiar voice, droning on and on with words of encouragement and calm, became a focal point for Harry. Something he could concentrate on, something to distract him from the waves of fear and fury still pounding through him. Drawing in a replenishing breath, he looked around, seeing in the dim light that the castle was leaking. Was it raining outside? Rivulets of water were running down the surface of every stone. But such strange water... the droplets hung for too long, dripping slowly over the granite, actually stopping as he watched.
"Good," Draco breathed. "Good. There you go, it's all over now, nothing's wrong..."
Harry didn't know what he was talking about. "What happened?" he croaked.
For some reason, it struck him as amazing that his voice worked. Now why was that?
"You tell me," Draco lightly scoffed, pulling himself up from the floor to sit on the edge of Harry's bed. "What was your nightmare about?"
Nightmare? It was like the outpouring of wild magic had wiped his mind clean. "Oh, did I scream the roof down?" Harry groaned, his voice emerging like a wisp of torn tissue paper.
"You weren't loud, no," Draco answered. He moved a cautious hand, hovering it over Harry's forearm, then evidently decided he'd better not touch him, after all. "Anyway, I wasn't asleep. I was just reading, and you..."
"What?" Harry asked, drawing his legs close in to his chest and hugging them. Then it came to him. "I fell asleep out on the couch! What am I doing in here?"
Draco shifted away. "You slept straight through dinner. When Severus went to bed he decided you'd be more comfortable in here."
"He... carried me?" He wasn't usually a deep sleeper; how could that not have wakened him?
"No, he Mobilicorpused you!" Draco laughed. "Of course he carried you!"
"And... what happened?" Harry asked, shrinking himself into a smaller ball as he hugged his legs more tightly. His whole mind was a complete blank.
"You slept for a while longer. Then you called my name a couple of times in a row, so I glanced your way..." Draco swallowed. "You were thrashing like a maniac, then all at once you went so still it was really scary. I think I understand now, the phrase silent scream. Anyway, the whole room began to fill with... well, magic. I could see it, like the air was getting thick with twisting, coppery tendrils coming from you. They were soaking into the walls to make them gooey. I might have gone for Severus, except I felt like there was no time to lose. I didn't want to come back to find you'd liquefied the whole room."