The Dream

The sun blazed directly overhead. He lifted a hand to shield himself from the light and, blinking, slowly rose to a standing position. The carpet of lush sward felt springy underfoot.

Before him stood a distant range of softly rolling hills. Above them, pure-white clouds drifted serenely across a sky of flawless blue. The landscape was verdant, uncorrupted. It somehow reminded Harry of Mrs. Weasley's garden.

Off to his right the view was dominated by the brim of an immense forest. On his left a shallow stream flowed down an incline before curving around a bend and out of sight.

It occurred to Harry to wonder, in an abstract sort of way, what had happened to the night. And he had no idea where the others of the Order might be. But these questions did not more than mildly stroke some small corner of his mind.

Then it seemed to him that he could hear other sounds beyond the tumbling water. Sounds resembling voices, laughter, and the faint, rhythmic pounding of a drum. Their source was either in his head or at a brook's destination.

He followed the stream, walking in it, his boots crunching on the shingle washed smooth by its endless polishing. His sloshing descent inspired rustling in the undergrowth on either side as tiny, furtive creatures darted from his path.

A pleasantly warm breeze caressed his face. The air was fresh and clean. It made him feel light-headed.

He reached the point where the rivulet turned. The voices were louder, more distinct, as he rounded the creek.

Before him was the mouth of a small valley. The stream ran on, snaking through a cluster of wooden houses. Most of them looked very unusual. Some of them had the shape of a diamond, balancing on the very tip of its end. Others were oval, and some had shapes that Harry did not even know how to name. Almost all of them seemed to be kept up by magic, like the Weasleys' house.

There were tethered Thestrals, roaming livestock, and strutting fowl.

And wizards.

Wizards, witches, hatchlings. Some carried out chores, and others simply lounged, watching, talking. In the clearing outside the diamond-shaped house, a group of young wizards sparred with wands and staffs, the beating of a hide tambour harmonizing their mock dueling.

No one paid him any particular attention as he entered the settlement. All the wizards he saw bore wands, as was only fitting for their kind, but despite this group being unknown to him, Harry didn't feel threatened. Just curious.

Someone came towards him. She strode with easy confidence and made no move for the wand hanging at her belt. He judged her to be a head shorter than himself, though her flaming crimson headdress, shot through with streaks of gold, made up for the height. Her back was straight, her figure attractive.

She showed no surprise at his presence. Indeed her expression was almost passive or at least as passive as a face so beautiful and active could be. As she neared him, she smiled openly and with warmth. He was aware of a faint stirring in his loins.

'Hello,' she said.

Reflecting on her comeliness, he did not immediately respond. When he replied, it was hesitantly. 'Hello ... yourself.'

'I don't know you.'

'Nor I you.'

She asked, 'What village are you from?'

He told her.

'It means nothing to me. But there are so many.'

Harry glanced at the unfamiliar shapes of the buildings. 'Your village isn't known to me either.' He paused, captivated by her fetching eyes, before adding, 'Aren't you wary of greeting a stranger?'

She looked puzzled. 'Should I be? Is there a dispute between our villages?'

'Not that I know of.'

She flashed her appealing, white smile again. 'Then there is no need for caution. Unless you come with evil intent.'

'No, I come in peace. But would you be as welcoming if I were a troll? Or a goblin? Or a giant of unknown allegiance?'

Her mystified look returned. 'Troll? goblin? giant? What are they?'

'You do not know of goblins?'

She shook her head.

'Or gremlins, dwarfs, elves? Any other races?

'Other races? No.'

'Or ... Muggles?'

'I don't know what they are, but I'm sure there aren't any.'

'You mean there aren't any non-magic people?'

'I mean that your words are lost on me. You're odd.' She spoke without malice, but laughter ran across her delicate lips.

'And you speak in riddles,' he told her. 'Where are we in England that you do not know of the other races or of Muggles?'

'You must have journeyed a long way, stranger, if your land has a name I've never heard of.'

He was taken aback. 'Are you telling me you don't even know what this country is called?'

'No, I'm telling you it isn't called England. At least, not here. And I've never known another magician who spoke of us sharing it with these ... other races and ... Muggles.'

'You mean there is no war here? There are no Death Eaters or...'

She laughed. 'When was it otherwise?'

Harry furrowed his brow. 'Since before my dad was born, there has always been some dark wizard around,' he muttered. 'Or so I thought.'

'Perhaps you've walked too long in the heat,' she offered gently.

He gazed at the sun, and realization came to him. 'The heat ... No chill wind blows.'

'Why should it? This isn't the cold season.'

'And the fog,' Harry continued, ignoring her answer. 'I haven't seen the fog.'

'What fog?'

'From the Dementors, of course.'

Unexpectedly, she reached out and grasped his hand. 'Come.'

Even in his confusion he was aware that her touch was agreeably warm and soft. He allowed her to lead him.

They followed the downward path of the stream until they left the village behind. Eventually they came to a place where the land fell away, and Harry and the young woman stood on the edge of a granite cliff. Here the stream became a pool, slipping from its far lip as a waterfall, a foamy cascade that plunged to rocks far below in a greater valley. The silver thread of a river emerged from somewhere at the foot of the cliff, slicing across olive plains that stretched endlessly in all directions. Only the tremendous forest to their right curbed the ocean of grassland.

The young woman spread her arms and made an all encompassing gesture. 'There is no one else here, just us magicians,' she said.

Harry looked around himself. No dying trees, no looming slate sky. All he saw was more of the same: luxuriant foliage, an infinity of green, a thriving abundance of life.

Harry experienced a strange emotion. He could not explain why, but he had a nagging sensation that all this was somehow familiar, as though he had seen these wondrous sights and breathed deep of this unsullied air before.

'Is this ... Heaven?' He all but whispered the last word.

'Paradise?' She smiled enigmatically. 'Perhaps. If you choose to make it so.'