The Dream Trilogy Book Three: What Dreams May Come (A Harry Potter FanFiction)

Chapter Thirty Three

Chapter Thirty Three

   The shrill voice was getting stronger as Ron sprinted with his three American  companions into the next chamber.  He wished fleetingly this room had a door too that could be slammed shut, but it didn't.  As the voice flailed around for whatever melody it was attempting to grasp, Ron grabbed one of the brooms in the corner of the room and squinted up at the array of winged keys currently circling their heads.

   "Hey, whatta you doin'?" Abbey snapped  at Chris, who was guiltily holding a broom of his own.

   "We have to find the right key, don't we?" he countered, but she shook her head and swiped the Nimbus off him, as if scolding a small child.

   "I am all for Muggle rights and anti-prejudice stuff, but I'm sorry there ain't no way you're flyin' that broom."

   "Why not?" demanded A.J., squaring up to her.  

   "Because you physically can't," said Ron.  They didn't have time for this.  "The broom has to be powered by your own magic, it's not something magic that anyone can jump on."

   "Y'all need to help us look from the ground, we'll scatter them from above."  Abbey swung her leg over her broom and kicked off, Ron followed right behind her.

   "What happens if that person gets through and they're not nice!" cried Chris from below.  "We're helpless!"

   "We need to hurry up then!" shouted Ron back down at them.  He was right, they were completely defenceless and cold guilty feeling slid down his insides.  They had to be quick –  what would Harry do?  What would Hermione do? 

   "Look at the lock," he called down.  "What does it look like, the key should match."  A.J. and Chris ran over and inspected the door.

   "Wrought iron, dark grey," A.J. called back up.  "Ornate, heavily decorated, big."  Ron looked frantically around; there was just so many of them!  Their wings were all different shapes and sizes too and they largely obscured the metal hidden underneath.  Ron and Abbey scooted through a flurry of colours, darting their heads about.

   "Dagnabbit," said Abbey through gritted teeth.  She was gripping the broom so hard her knuckles had gone completely white.  "I only ever stay on the ground, stupid broomstick, stupid keys."

   Ron ignored her.  "Big, grey, fancy," he muttered to himself over and over, hardly daring to blink.  Big but gold, grey but modern, ornate but little.  "C'mon, c'mon."

   "There!" screamed Chris.  "The one with the big purple wings!"  He was pointing into the corner of the room on the left hand side above the locked door.  Ron swerved to find the key he was talking about but Abbey was already racing over.  The keys scattered and bashed into his face with their colourful wings, but Ron only had eyes for purple.  

   "Above you!" yelled Abbey, and before he could think Ron yanked the broom to a halt, reached with his right hand and snatched into the air.  There was whoops and cheers as he brought his prize back down to his eye level, and saw struggling under his fingers was a large, ornamented, iron key.  

   The cheer was literally in his throat, but it was stolen from him before he could release it.

   "Give me the key," a woman's voice commanded from the ground.  It took Ron a moment to realise she was English.  He looked down and his stomach plummeted.  She wore a black, long sleeved dress, heavy looking and embroidered with hundreds of beads glinting like tiny black beetles.  Her hair was a mess of black curls, her smile was cruel, and her gaze followed the direction of her wand from beneath black shadowed eyes.  Ron gulped and recognized the wand was definitely pointed at him.