A/N: This was written for the Fainting Fancy Category of the Weasley's Wizard Wheezes Competition and Fluorite Category of the Gemstone Competition.
Harry Potter was running through the corridors of Hogwarts, running away from something that was chasing him, but he couldn't see it. He ran down the moving staircases, past the Great Hall and past classrooms, searching for the Room of Requirement. For some reason, Harry felt if he could get there, he could be safe from whatever was following him. Head to toe, he was dripping with sweat, but he could see it. The Room of Requirement was just in his reach, but just as he was about to turn the handle, some invisible force pulled his ankle out from under him, and screaming, a dark shadow engulfed him.
When Harry's vision came back and he was in a room, strapped to a table, the same dark figure hovering over him. He wasn't sure who it was, but he had an idea. The figure slowly pulled off its hood to reveal the pale, flat nosed face that he had come to fear so very much. He tried to wiggle out of the straps that were holding him down, but it was no use. His wand had been taken out of his pocket, so even if he did escape, he had no means of defense.
Voldemort cackled.
"Looking for your wand, boy? Even that won't help you now. You'll be dead in moments," Voldemort said in the slimy and reptile-like voice Harry knew was parseltongue.
Voldemort raised his wand and shouted the cursed words, plunging his wand into Harry's chest, breaking skin. Harry was slowly losing his vision, and he could feel the blood seeping out from his chest from the spot where Voldemort had dug his sharp wand into his skin.
Harry took one last breath and everything just faded and faded away until he could feel nothing anymore.
Harry woke in a cold sweat the next morning in his bed in the Dursley's house. He sighed with relief. The nightmare he had, it was just that, a nightmare. He just hoped that his dream wouldn't come true.
