He didn’t feel the tears fall from his cheeks, nor did he feel the arms of Hermione as she held him sympathetically. He felt nothing, save for the empty space that served as a reminder of how much the girl really meant to him; how long he’d been denying his admiration for the girl, and the repressed feelings he hid after Cedric was killed.

And now she was gone.  

This, however, was not explainable. There was no reason as to how a small child had run passed him seconds ago and down the very hallway he walked, only to reach this barred door and be nowhere in sight. He half expected to find the girl tugging at a piece of the wood perhaps, yet Harry could not even detect fingerprints in the dust.

The girl had quite literally disappeared.

Harry’s spine quivered. The possibility of meeting his parents had been something he would trade galleons for ever since he learned they were dead. Even still, somehow the idea of being able to meet them in a dream seemed somewhat morbid to him. The image of Cho’s transparent form and icy abhorring glare made him shake his head, the shock snapping him from his train of thought. If he had met his parents with the same ghostly look to them…
No, he wouldn’t let himself picture that.

The dark and threatening ghostly spirit of Cho stood motionless, radiating cold revulsion and animosity through her wispy form. She was looking at neither Hermione nor the woman who sat on the floor: her primary concern was Harry, and he felt the gut-wrenching panic as his mind registered this.

She glided towards him.