The Dream Trilogy Book One: To Dwell On Dreams (A Harry Potter FanFiction)

Chapter Twenty Four

Chapter Twenty Four

"Germany!" cried Hermione. 

"Why are we in Germany!" demanded Seamus. 

"Where in Germany!" added Parvati. 

Hermione was standing rock still, horror plane all over her face. "I don't have my passport," she said, grabbing a bunch of her hair that was whipping all over the place in the wind. "I don't...this is illegal!" 

But their reactions didn't seem to be dampening Malfoy's spirits any much. He was looking over triumphantly at the mountain, hands on his hips as the wind tossed his increasingly blond hair. "Come on," he said, and began walking down the path that lead to the town. 

"Wait, hang on," said Harry following him. "What's going on?" 

Malfoy blew out a breath, like he'd been holding it since he'd arrived at Godric's Hollow. "This is as close as we can get to You-Know-Who's current hideout." He shook his head, dislodging the snow that had settled there. "I honestly wasn't sure if that Portkey would work." 

"You-Know-Who is in Germany?" questioned Seamus. 

Malfoy shrugged. "Why not?" he said. "He's got influence all over Europe now." 

"Where in Germany?" asked Hermione, still visibly distressed. "Where are we now?" 

Malfoy thought a moment as they walked, picking their way around loose rocks and leafless bushes that were all collecting the falling snow. "The village down there is Huzenbach, and I think we're near Freudenstadt. Somewhere in the south of the country anyway." 

"Freudenstadt?" repeated Hermione, sounding like it meant something to her. "So that over there..." she stared over at the mountain. "That's the Black Forest." 

Again Malfoy seemed to think. "Yeah, I think that's what it's called, why?" 

Hermione looked at Harry, whether embarrassed or scared he couldn't tell. "Well, that's where all the Grimm fairy tales come from, all the horrid stories about ghouls and witches and young girls..." She trailed off. "I'm just being silly, aren't I?" 

"Probably not," said Malfoy casually. "There was some Muggle writer who did some stories a few hundred years ago, that him?" 

"Them," corrected Hermione. "And yes, I guess so. So it's all real?" 

Malfoy clicked his neck as he wove around a particularly unstable patch of loose and slushy stones. "If memory serves," he said. "They missed out the really bad stuff."  

"Aren't they all those Muggle cartoon films?" Parvati asked Hermione. "About princesses and enchantments and talking mice?" She shrugged. "Didn't seem too bad to me." 

Hermione gazed in trepidation up at the forest. "The originals were a little darker," she said as they carried on following Malfoy through the snow. She had her patent leather school shoes on which probably weren't keeping her feet all that warm, but at least they were better than Parvati's heeled boots she was currently stumbling along with. Harry was grateful he and the other boys had slightly more suitable trainers to kick away the snow.  

"I told you it would be dangerous," said Malfoy over his shoulder. His delight at the Portkey's success seemed to be ebbing away. "The back entrance is up that mountain, through the forest, and yes, there are plenty of unpleasant things lurking in its shadows." 

"You couldn't have mentioned that sooner?" muttered Seamus. 

"No," said Malfoy, with some satisfaction. "I couldn't."