I Must Be Dreaming

Saturday afternoon, the cold white lights of St. Mungo's were still bright.

People came and went in the corridor. Healers passed by, trolley wheels rolled, potion bottles clinked, and hushed conversations and the occasional startled gasp formed the hospital's constant background noise.

Cordelia was sitting by the corridor window again. This time, though, she had no book in her arms. She sat very straight, waiting for Gavin to check her "homework" from the past few days.

"I tried it," she said eagerly the moment she saw him.

"And?"

"A little." Cordelia frowned. "I can feel... it's there."

Gavin's steps faltered.

That was good news.

He had thought Cordelia would struggle even with the first step of "seeing" the thing. Instead, she could already sense the Obscurus.

"How did it feel?" He hurried over and sat beside her.

Cordelia thought for a moment.

"It's hard to say," she said quietly. "Not like your... whirlpool or anything. I just know it's there. Very close, very big, very cold. Sometimes it feels like it's watching me."

The little hope that had risen in Gavin's chest slowly sank.

"And then?" he asked.

"And then nothing," Cordelia said. "I can't see the other thing you mentioned."

"The white one?"

"Mm." She shook her head. "There's nothing. Just... that."

Gavin fell silent. He turned her words over in his mind and soon reached a less-than-optimistic conclusion.

It didn't necessarily mean she had actually touched the structure of her own consciousness.

Perhaps it was because the thing was simply too large, and had been there far too long.

A person with poor eyesight might not make out nearby details, outlines, words, or expressions, but he could still see the sun. Its presence in the sky was too overwhelming to ignore.

Cordelia's awareness of the Obscurus was probably like that.

It didn't mean she had truly entered that state.

More likely, the Obscurus had grown so large and obvious within her consciousness that even though she knew nothing and understood nothing, she could feel it as soon as she got anywhere close to the right state.

"What is it?" Cordelia asked, watching him. "Is that bad?"

Gavin looked up at her.

"I can't call it good," he said.

Cordelia didn't look too disappointed. She had never expected this to be easy. Hope, to her, was like a soap bubble: one firm touch and it burst.

"I told you." She tugged at her cuff, sounding as though she were talking about someone else. "It couldn't be that easy."

"But it isn't completely worthless," Gavin said.

"Are you trying to comfort me?"

"No," he said. "That's my conclusion."

He wasn't lying. At least Cordelia could now sense the Obscurus instead of waiting helplessly for death as she had before.

"Let me check again. Same as last time. Just relax."

As Cordelia watched him, Gavin entered her Consciousness Space again.

Everything looked the same: the enormous black whirlpool and the blank-eyed little girl. Gavin looked around and found nothing new.

He was about to leave when he froze. Something felt wrong. He turned back and studied the black hole and Cordelia beside it, then tried to position himself as close as possible to where he had stood last time.

It took quite a while, but he finally identified the source of that faint unease. The black hole—

It had grown.

Gavin withdrew from the Consciousness Space. Cordelia was watching him. He chose his words carefully. "Have you noticed any changes lately?"

"Changes?" Cordelia looked confused. "What kind?"

"Feeling better, feeling worse. Any change in how you feel."

Cordelia frowned and shook her head. "No. It's the same as before."

Maybe the change isn't obvious enough for her to feel yet? Gavin wondered.

If the black hole kept expanding at this rate, the little Cordelia might be swallowed before July 12.

And he didn't even know whether the growth was linear. If it was accelerating, things could be worse.

That meant they probably couldn't afford to keep moving at the old pace.

Before, he could still consider waiting and testing a few more ideas first. But Cordelia's condition was worrying. He could no longer settle for gently prodding Quirrell.

He had to push the plot forward.

Even after obtaining the Philosopher's Stone, Gavin would need time to study it. He was reasonably confident, but a month left too little room for error.

Gavin looked at the pale winter daylight falling beside the window and made up his mind.

Soon. As soon as possible.

Of course, before he could actually push the plot forward, he needed to make preparations.

Gavin had never liked acting on impulse alone.

He was reckless, certainly, but he preferred to be reckless after preparing for every possibility.

And since he knew he was about to interfere with a plotline that had originally been running smoothly, he needed a fallback plan more than ever.

First came equipment. He needed a great many magical items.

One particularly important item had come to mind, so the twins were the first people he sought out.

He and the twins had been getting along quite well lately.

Partly because Headscarf Operation was ongoing, and partly because they had gradually realized that although this Hufflepuff kid could be rude, he shared at least some of their enthusiasm for causing trouble.

"Gu!" Fred's eyes lit up when he saw him. "Have you got another idea?"

"If it's phase two of Headscarf Operation—"

"We've already prepared three different ways to set it off."

"It's not about the headscarf, for now," Gavin said.

The twins looked disappointed in perfect unison.

"Then what is it?"

"I'm looking to buy some magical items," Gavin said.

That immediately perked them up.

Magical items were their specialty.

Or so they thought.

Over the next ten minutes, the twins enthusiastically showed Gavin some of their latest prized possessions: fake buttons that sprang off on their own, sweets that turned people's ears green, little fireworks with a mild tracking effect, powder that made boot soles slippery for a short time, and a small box of things that smelled deeply suspicious and could plainly cause localized chaos.

Gavin examined them one by one, his expression calm.

After a while, he gave his verdict. "These all seem pretty ordinary."

The twins hadn't expected that reaction. Neither looked pleased.

"What do you mean, ordinary?" George asked with a frown.

"I mean... how do I put this? They're a bit small-time."

Gavin said it deliberately. None of the things before him was what he really wanted.

What he wanted was—

The Marauder's Map.

That indispensable Hogwarts artifact should already be in the twins' hands by now.

But they would never give it to him if he simply asked. He needed another approach.

Fred's smug expression visibly faltered at Gavin's cutting answer.

"You do realize these things—"

"Are magical items," George finished.

"I know," Gavin said. "But real magical items should be products of alchemy."

He spoke as though he were objectively distinguishing between two different levels of craftsmanship. He wanted to provoke the twins a little.

"Things made through alchemy come closer to what I'd call true magical items," Gavin said. "Not single-use pranks, but things that can reliably serve a practical purpose."

He paused, then added another jab. "Though I suppose you've never seen one."

The twins immediately bristled.

"Of course we have—" George began.

"George." Fred cut him off with a stern look.

George stopped himself mid-sentence.

Gavin's eyes flickered.

He had pushed them far enough for today. There was no need to keep going.

"Anyway," he concluded, still a little provocative, "there's no rush with these. Once you've seen a real alchemical item, we can discuss it again."

The twins exchanged a look. Clearly, neither of them was going to forget this.

Fred even wore an expression that said, Fine. You've insulted our professional pride.

"Gu," he said, "I'm starting to want to prove you wrong."

"Good," Gavin said. "You might broaden your horizons while you're at it."

Naturally, they didn't make a deal in the end.

The trinkets had never been what Gavin wanted most.

The bait was set. Now he just had to wait for a bite.

Over the next few days, Gavin began planning in earnest.

His objective was clear.

First, get Quirrell to pursue the Philosopher's Stone as soon as possible.

The problem was that getting too involved could easily derail everything. If events that were meant to happen later took place early, no one knew what would follow.

Gavin had no idea what consequences his own interference might set in motion.

What he feared most was the plot collapsing completely, leaving Quirrell and Voldemort with the Philosopher's Stone and Gavin with nothing.

So he had to make sure Harry followed the original path and became the one who ultimately stood before the Philosopher's Stone.

Gavin didn't want to gamble. He had to be there to make sure it happened.

He had no intention of standing outside the Trapdoor like a fool after the trio went in, waiting and hoping everything worked out.

He knew that accidents often happened despite the best preparations. That was the one rule that never changed.

Which made his next task—

He looked at the second item on his list.

Make sure he could watch the whole thing and protect himself while doing it.

At midnight, Gavin sat up behind his bed curtains again, ready to practice.

Tonight's goal was—

The Disillusionment Charm.

The Disillusionment Charm was essentially a bargain-basement Invisibility Cloak. Quite a few wizards could cast it smoothly, but the results varied from person to person.

Most could blend perfectly into their surroundings while standing still, but gave themselves away when they moved, especially at speed.

That made Gavin curious. I wonder what would happen if Dumbledore used this charm?

Dumbledore always seemed to appear and disappear without warning. Gavin couldn't help wondering whether he used this charm to hide nearby and watch in secret.

Earlier that day, Gavin had found the instructions for the charm in the library's Standard Book of Spells, Grade Six and copied the relevant passage into his notebook.

Now he needed to learn it.

"Dissimulo Visum!"

It seemed to work. Gavin felt magic wrap around him, though he noticed no other difference.

So he found a mirror. The sight inside startled him: his head was gone, and only the lower half of his body appeared in the reflection.

In a castle at midnight, it looked distinctly eerie.

His first attempt had gone a little wrong. The charm had covered only his head.

Once he understood the problem, Gavin cast it a second time. This time, nothing appeared in the mirror.

"Pretty easy," Gavin judged. After mastering a few spells, learning new ones had become noticeably easier.

Gavin took a couple of steps. Looking closely at the mirror, he could still spot the flaw without much trouble.

It looked as though the air's refraction had suddenly changed. Space seemed slightly warped, revealing a transparent human shape in motion.

Gavin began thinking through how the charm worked.

It was fairly straightforward.

The first effect used magic to alter the refraction of light.

Light would normally travel in a straight line. Now it followed the path of the magic around his body.

The second effect made the magic enveloping his body act like a one-way mirror.

After all, other people might not be able to see you, but you still needed to see them.

Once he understood the principles, the rest was manageable. As with the Levitation Charm, he needed to adjust his magic until both effects became more stable.

So Gavin practiced a third time, a fourth... and many more after that.

At two in the morning, Justin woke because he needed the toilet.

Rubbing his eyes, he headed for the bathroom, still half asleep. He had barely turned into the dormitory corridor when he stopped dead.

The corridor was unlit. Only a little pallid moonlight slipped through the high cellar windows. That made the sight before him all the more uncanny.

A "person" stood in the middle of the corridor.

Or something shaped like one.

It had Gavin's outline, but it didn't look like Gavin.

The left half of his body had almost merged with the wooden wall behind him. The grain lined up perfectly, as though he had grown straight out of it.

The right half was worse. Someone should have been standing there, but all that remained was a shifting patch of air. One moment it looked like the gray shadow of a stone brick; the next, moonlight turned it faintly white, flickering as though something had gone wrong.

Only one hand was still clear.

That hand held a Wand suspended in midair, its knuckles pale from gripping too hard. At the sound of a barely audible Spell, the light around him seemed to stir, and a ring of tiny ripples slowly spread through the air.

Justin woke up at once.

Halfway, at least.

The other half was doing its best to refuse to understand what he was seeing.

Just then, half a face emerged from the warped light and shadow.

It was Gavin.

Only half of his face.

The other half was still buried in the shadows and the grain of the wall, as if he hadn't quite climbed out.

There was no panic on his face at being caught practicing magic in the middle of the night. He simply stared at the faint distortion in the air, his focus almost frightening, as though he were calibrating something only he could see.

The next second, that half of his face silently faded away again, like wax slowly melting into the brick wall.

Nothing remained where he had been.

Justin stood there, his throat tight and his legs trembling.

Two seconds passed. He took one very slow step back, then another, before turning around and shuffling to his bedside with stiff, awkward steps.

"I got up too fast..."

He buried his face in his pillow and pulled his yellow-and-black Hufflepuff blanket tight over his head, squeezing his eyes shut in the dark.

"I must be dreaming. The wall came to life, and it had Gavin's face."

"It's a dream. Yeah. Definitely a dream."