Hogwarts Express

Track Change

Track Xi Zeta

            “You know, the Shakespeare joke was pathetic enough last time.”

            Harry kicked aside the empty bottles of “Drought of Living Death” and some kind of
poison, looking at the stone dias and its two, still inhabitants with what could well be described
as morbid fascination. “‘Two houses, both alike in dignity...’”

            “‘It is a tale told by an idiot,’” Draco growled, looking very unimpressed as he glared
over at Harry.

            “Wrong play,” Harry said with smug satisfaction, grinning. “That’s from the Scottish
play. From the way the other me looks poisoned and you have that pretty big knife sticking out of
your chest, I’d say that Macbeth is certainly the wrong play for the situation.”

            “I don’t know about that,” Draco said smoothly, silkily, turning to look with narrowed
eyes at Harry. “Remember the line ‘Unsex me now’? Trust me Potter, it can be arranged.”

            Harry turned quite red, and took a wary step back. “That’s all right, really...”

            Draco snorted, then turned his attention back to the two dead bodies. “I would say that
Draconius was very most likely here. I can’t see either of us reenacting the last act of Romeo &
Juliet without his influence. This isn’t going to help us any though - none of these worlds have
helped us, except the first one! We just keep arriving after everyone is dead, or after they’re
already snogging in public places, or after they’ve tried to attack us. We haven’t managed to find
anything useful at all. There has to be a way to plan where we’re going to land!”

            “Well...” Harry said slowly, settling himself down to sit on a toppled gravestone not far
from the stone sarcophagus their dead bodies lay on. “Did you hear that, last time we
Apparated?”

            “Hear what?” Draco asked listlessly, lost in thought.

            “It sounded like... like a train whistle,” Harry said, sounding slightly unsure himself.
“Like the Hogwart’s Express. I just caught it as we were Apparating here.”

            “You’re nutters,” Draco said calmly, raising an eyebrow.

            “Maybe,” Harry admitted softly, which made Draco look at him rather sharply. “But I’m
sure I heard it. Maybe.... because of the potion, maybe we’d be able to concentrate on the
moment between Disapparating and Apparating, and maybe we’d be able to figure out how
exactly it is that Draconius is able to focus like he does.”

            “And risk getting splinched?” Draco scoffed.

            “Well, answer me this, Draco Malfoy,” Harry said firmly, bolting to his feet to stare the
other down, fists clenched at his side. “If you don’t want to try my idea, go home then. But how
are you going to find it?”

            Draco paused, then his silver eyes widened. “Merlin... I don’t know.”

            “Exactly.” Harry sighed. “Now does my idea sound all right?”

            There was a moment of silence, then Draco spread his arms wide, like some kind of
exaggerated martyr. He said nothing, but just waited, and moments later, Harry had pushed
himself off the gravestone he’d claimed as his seat, and stepped up to almost within Draco’s
reach. Emerald eyes watching silver, he only watched the blond, until Draco cocked his head
slightly to the side, and smirked.

            “Scared, Potter?”

            A smirk of his own crossed Harry’s face, and he stepped forward, feeling the strong arms
envelope him.

            “You wish.”