Hogwarts: Proficiency Panel

Chapter 509 510: Five Hours in the Dreamscape

The memory of the Great Hall had faded into the distance. Now, the landscape of

the Dreamscape was shifting, forming jagged, rolling hills out of the white

void.

Sirius could hear the rhythmic, guttural snarling behind him. Each roar sent a

fresh jolt of terror through his veins, making his legs feel as heavy as lead.

A thousand questions swirled in his mind: What were those black dogs? Why did he

feel an instinctive, paralyzing urge to surrender whenever they drew near? Why

were they so intent on hunting him down? And finally... where was he going?

Where were James and Lily?

Doubt flooded his heart. As his confusion grew, so did the shadows. As he

scrambled over the grassy slope of a hill, a plume of pitch-black mist erupted

behind him. If Sirius had eyes in the back of his head, he would have realized

the mist wasn't chasing him—it was pouring out of his own body.

"Sirius Black... how do you dare show your face?"

The voice was a raspy, accusatory hiss that seemed to vibrate with a decade's

worth of grief. It rang out directly behind his ear.

Sirius stumbled. His feet felt like they had been dipped in molten iron,

anchoring him to the spot.

In that moment, he was no longer in the Dreamscape. He was back in that October

night. He thought of James—his brother in every way that mattered. He thought of

the Potters, who had loved him like a son. And he thought of Harry...

It was his fault. His cleverness, his arrogance, his stupid plan to switch

Secret Keepers. He had practically led the butcher to their door.

He couldn't stop himself from imagining it. He saw Voldemort finding the cottage

in Godric's Hollow. He saw James, standing tall without a wand, shouting for

Lily to take the baby and run. He saw the cold, green light...

He saw Lily pleading for her son's life, offering her own in exchange. And he

saw Voldemort—that snake-faced monster—murdering her before turning his wand on

the cradle.

"Sirius... how can you live with yourself?"

Sirius collapsed to his knees, burying his face in his hands as he broke into

jagged, heaving sobs.

"You are controlled by what you fear, Mr. Black."

A youthful, calm voice cut through the darkness. Suddenly, the weight on

Sirius's heart vanished. The world of Godric's Hollow dissolved, and he was

back on the white hill.

A terrifying roar sounded inches from his face. The stench of decay hit him like

a physical blow. He looked up to find the massive, shadow-like black dog

standing over him, its jaws wide enough to swallow a man whole. But the monster

was frozen, as if it had suddenly struck an invisible wall.

Sirius scrambled back, his skin crawling with cold sweat, and searched for his

savior.

He found it immediately. The Great Cat was perched directly on the shadow-dog's

head, its emerald-green eyes fixed on Sirius with a look of regal indifference.

Sirius had never seen such a magnificent creature. It looked like a Wampus Cat

from the American legends, but larger and far more divine. With a single, sharp

swipe of its paw, the shadow-dog let out a pathetic whimper and dissolved into

wisps of black smoke that settled around them like ghosts.

"Fear does not simply vanish, Mr. Black," the Great Cat said. "It lives in the

cellar of every man's heart. But even a man carrying fear can still run."

The cat began to shrink, hissing softly like a leaking balloon, until it was

once again the size of a standard Kneazle.

"What... what were they?" Sirius gasped, his throat raw.

"A conversation for another time, sir. Our time here is running short."

The black cat watched the mists rising around them. Sean knew he had

overextended the power of the Void Rune. He had interfered too much with the

laws of the Lands Between.

Every action in this realm carried a price. Sirius's hesitation and paralyzing

guilt were being translated by the Dreamscape into an eviction notice. If Sirius

weren't a guest of the "Deity," he would have already been annihilated—his soul

erased from existence.

In the physical world, that usually looks like the result of a Killing Curse.

Funny, Sean thought. The Killing Curse doesn't actually damage the body; it

leaves no mark. Perhaps it doesn't even 'kill' the soul. It merely expels

it—severs the connection between the spirit and the vessel.

If the soul were truly destroyed, the Resurrection Stone wouldn't be able to

call back the spirits of Lily, James, or Cedric Diggory. They would simply be

gone.

"What do you mean?" Sirius asked desperately, his eyes wide with a manic,

starving hope.

"Your footsteps are too heavy, Mr. Black. Those who walk in dreams must be light

of heart. If you cannot let go of your burdens, you will never reach the

horizon."

The black cat let out a sound like a sigh. "Farewell for now. If there comes a

day when you are ready to face the future instead of living in the wreckage of

yesterday... find me. At Hogwarts."

The mist surged, thicker and hotter than before. The Lands Between was punishing

the intruder. It couldn't touch the cat—the "God" who licked its paws in

defiance—so it turned its wrath on Sirius.

Sirius felt a blistering heat against his skin, but his heart felt like ice. How

can I face them? he thought. Unless...

He thought of the baby. In his mind, the image of the infant Harry was more

vivid than the teenage boy he had seen in Diagon Alley.

"If we win this war, my Lord... I will return to you," Sirius said, his voice

ringing with a terrifying, newfound conviction.

He looked at his "God." The black cat was currently staring at its own paw with

a look of mild confusion, its whiskers twitching as if it were surprised that

its feline instincts were still fighting for control.

The sight was so absurdly "cat-like" that even Sirius felt a ghost of a smile

touch his lips.

"I have many guests," the cat said regally, flattening its tail over its paws.

"If I should ever encounter a wandering soul who is a guest and not a wizard...

I might be persuaded to lead them out of the mist for a visit."

Sirius froze. A second later, a wave of pure, ecstatic joy crashed over him.

Before he could say a word, the cat turned and vanished into the depths of the

fog.

Sirius woke with a start in the drawing room of Grimmauld Place. The music box

was still tinkling its hypnotic melody. He sat up and whispered the words like a

prayer:

"Master of Dreams and Mists... Bridge between Life and Death... Eternal Symbol

of Luck..."

He sounded like a devout acolyte.

Meanwhile, in the quiet of his own space, the "God" was currently checking his

watch and frowning.

"Five hours and thirty minutes..." Sean muttered. "That took far too long. I

wonder why?"

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