The Dreamer's Curse

Evil Wears Pink

[Chapter 21]

“Where are the Unpure Dreamers?” I asked.

“Locked up in an abandoned warehouse. They’ve still got the Trappers on, so they’re harmless. I’m the only one with the keys,” Fiddle slouched.

“Samuel’s got more of them, of course,” Matt said in a small voice. He had curled up into a ball on the couch, his bony frame pressing against the leather sofa with varying intensity. The young man ran his hands through his hair. He was lost in thought, his body was eager to succumb to sleep, but his mind vehemently protested.

“He’s going to use the other realm as a supply base, oh, thank you, Jane,” Papa said, taking the tea tray from my hands. “All sorts of tricks that haven’t existed since the 1870s—Cure-all balms and salves, magic herbs, weapons of mass destruction—shall be much harder to sell in this present age. But if—and I do mean if—he should succeed, then he’ll be the wealthiest, most powerful man in the realm.”

“Magic indeed!” Fiddle frowned. “Considering how tolerant our society is at the moment, he won’t die if he has a go.”

“Would it react in the same way in our realm?” I recalled the Magician’s Nephew whilst nibbling on a biscuit. “Maybe magic won’t work here.”

“One can hope…” Matt sipped at this tea. “Potions and magic itself are two entirely different things, though.”

“I could find out,” I offered. “I can bring something back like I had with the robes.”

“Sounds like a reasonable plan,” Matt nodded. “What’ll you bring over?”

“A sort of disguise potion. I’ll take it in front of you, and whatever happens happens.”

“Sweet heaven, there’s such a thing? And what if the Unpure Dreamers have the same capability?”

“It’s a hard potion to brew, and has to be taken every few hours, but it is possible.”

“Make haste,” Papa said, putting his cup down. “Go, and we shall take care of things on this side.”

I washed the blood from my hands and slipped back into the Cradle. I could hear the faint sound of Papa’s car revving up outside.

Please, I thought. Bring him safely back.

Meanwhile, it was a slow morning at the cottage. There was no meeting to go to, and no homework to catch up on. Alice had gone to the Department of Mysteries, and I was, naturally, left at home to “keep myself safe.”

I wasn’t one to argue when I was clearly outnumbered—by Aurors, no less. So I stayed behind, tucked the Pertorqueo Potion safely in the pocket of my red robes, and tried desperately to get back to my own realm. No matter how much sleep I got, however, my spirit was firmly planted in this realm.

The next week, Alice brought me to Privet Drive. I dressed in the most respectable clothes I could find—something the Dursleys would approve of. I tugged at my red collar and adjusted my grey skirt before ringing the doorbell.

Petunia Dursley answered the door with a stern face that quickly twisted itself into a smile after she’d given me an appraising glance.

“Are you one of Dudley’s schoolmates?” she smiled.

I smiled back. “Actually, Mrs Dursley, I’m looking for Harry Potter.”

Her eyes went wide. “You aren’t one of his lot are you?”

“Whatever should you mean Mrs Dursley?” I feigned an innocent sort of smile. She seemed to relax at my pretend ignorance.

“Very well,” she sighed. “I’ll get the boy.”