Cycles

Remus wasn’t sure whether to be more surprised, angry or embarrassed. He marched Harry down the hall after Albus, holding him tightly by the arm. Harry’s face was the darkest red Remus had ever seen. This was likely not the sort of spectacle the boy wanted to endure, particularly after what he had admitted to, but Remus was much too flustered to take that into consideration.

“Albus!” Remus called when the old wizard came in sight. “I believe we’ve found the cause, if not the solution.”

Albus took in the situation, the way Remus gripped Harry’s arm, the furious flush of both their faces, and they were bustled back into the meeting room, doors closed and warded before anything else could be said. “Now,” Albus said calmly, “what is it?”

Harry fidgeted but said nothing. Remus released him and pulled out a chair to sit. “It appears Harry had a dream last night that might explain this situation, if it doesn’t offer us clues.”

Both men looked expectantly at Harry, who only fidgeted more. He looked at Remus with huge, pleading eyes for a moment. When Remus said nothing further, he sighed and began to speak.

“I dreamed… well, it was, er, one of those kinds of dreams…”

“Do you believe it was sent by Voldemort, Harry?” Albus asked patiently.

“No, it— not one of those, but one of, er…”

“An erotic dream,” Remus clarified, and Harry looked utterly miserable when Albus nodded.

“Yes, an— that. I, um, don’t really dream that often any more, at least not that I can remember. But this one was very, er… vivid. Tonks was, um—” Here, Harry mumbled, blush increasing, impossible as that seemed. “—and turned into Remus, but, er, I knew that she didn’t just morph, ‘cause I wanted it to be… well, she changed the way that dreams do, you understand? And then she – well, he now—”

Remus tuned him out for the sake of his own modesty – and because he’d already heard the tale once – and watched Albus instead. It appeared his white eyebrows were going to climb all the way into his receding hairline, centimeter by centimeter. His cheeks were pink, and his eyes twinkled more than usual, and more strangely. If Remus didn’t know any better, he might imagine that Albus paid more attention than necessary to the details of Harry’s story.

When Harry was finally finished, looking absolutely terrible for all his embarrassment, Albus cleared his throat, and Remus focused on the matter at hand again. “Albus, do you think it’s possible that Harry’s dream caused this to happen?”

“I’ve witnessed such things before, and it seems likely that with all Harry’s power, obtained from Voldemort or otherwise, he could easily project his dreams onto the real world, even by accident. I’ve never seen it so strongly embodied – if you’ll pardon the joke – as this, but I do suppose it is possible.”

Remus nodded, then tapped a finger against his own lips. “Any solutions, then? If Harry’s powerful enough to affect things through his subconscious, couldn’t he easily change us back if he’s fully conscious of what he’s doing?”

“One might think, but there is a precedent. The idea is to recreate the surroundings for the dreamer and allow him to try to change what he has done from within the original scenario.” Remus groaned when Albus clarified: “We’ll have to reenact the dream for him.”