分卷阅读31（1 / 2）

Harry watched Grimbie snap his fingers and disappear. After a minute or so, he popped back into view. “Here, sirs,” he held up the master spell key. He thanked Grimbie and was about to turn away when another crazy idea popped into his head.

If he and Draco couldn’t get the Timepiece working again, they’d have to wait until their other selves used the Timepiece for the first time. Only after that could they rejoin the group and not worry about creating a paradox. But if something were to happen to him or Draco, they’d never get the plant back for the ransom drop. “Wait!” Harry said. “Grimbie, can you do me another favor?” The House Elf nodded eagerly. “I need you to look after a plant,” Harry started and then explained his plan. Once Grimbie understood, Harry thanked him again and then finally made his way to the top floor.

He stepped out into the entrance way and cautiously peered around. It was deserted. Harry eyed the closed doors to the penthouse suite. After a few seconds, he made his way to the center of the foyer and placed the red liquor-stained page of the Prophet on the ground. Then the ding of the lift’s bell rang, and the doors opened.

“I’d hoped I wouldn’t find you here,” Draco rushed out. “But I couldn’t see the threads, and I knew you would still want to change things.” He shook his head and grabbed Harry.

“No!” Harry protested. He pointed to the paper on the ground. “I came here it ensure everything happens the way it should.” Draco leaned in and gazed at him. The proximity sent shivers down Harry’s spine. “We need to get—”

Something roared behind the doors of the penthouse and both of them jerked their heads toward the sound. The sudden crashing of objects clanged and people started screaming. Harry blinked and the doors to the penthouse were suddenly on fire. The roar sounded again.

“I recognise that,” he whispered, memories from the Triwizard Tournament flashing in his mind. But how could a dragon be in the penthouse? “That’s a—”

A swift and powerful gust of wind blew past them and Harry stumbled backward into Draco’s frame. A silvery, opalescent form poked through the burning doors and large, cloudy eyes peered at them. Its long neck extended out toward them, and as the Hungarian Horntail opened its mouth, Draco raised his wand and shouted, “Expecto Patronum!”

A bright and vivid white stoat shot out of the end of Draco’s wand and crashed into the dragon’s cloudy form, sending it reeling back into the penthouse. A few moments of silence passed, and Harry turned to Draco, completely stunned and breathless.

“Was that a ghost?”

Draco shook his head, “Ghosts can’t breathe fire or rip people apart.” Malfoy was shaking. “It must have been some sort of weaponized soul.”

Harry could hardly believe what he’d seen. He hadn’t been able to figure out what could’ve done the damage in the penthouse, but he never would have guessed a sort of phantom Hungarian Horntail had been responsible for all the carnage. “Thank you,” he breathed. He turned and kissed Draco. “You saved my life.”

“What is this?” a familiar voice rang from the other end of the entrance near the lift. Harry broke their kiss and craned his head. Another Draco stood in front of the open lift with a cup of tea and massive scowl plastered across his face.

“Stupefy!” the Draco closest to him shouted and the other Draco froze in place.

Harry looked around them and started to panic. “I thought you said you spent the morning away?”

Draco frowned, “That’s what I remember doing. Help me move him to the stairwell.”

They levitated the incapacitated Draco out of the main entrance and down the stairs to the fourteenth floor. After they made it to the room, Draco placed the other version of himself on the bed and ran to the nearby desk. He pulled a folded parchment from his waistcoat pocket and laid it on the desk. Grabbing a blank parchment, he began scribbling a message.

“What are you doing? Are you mad?” Harry rushed to his side, glancing between the unfolded note and the one Draco was writing, or rather, copying.

Follow the threads to their respective ends, Draco. No matter how strange, no matter how uncomfortable it makes you. Follow the bizarre and extraordinary events. You won’t regret it. And when it’s time to go home, the time will be a quarter to seven on Thursday morning. —Draco

Understanding suddenly filled him, followed by the realization that Draco must’ve had this note all along. Harry couldn’t stop himself from shouting, “Really, Malfoy?” He shook his head and ran from the room.