Prologue:
There's a woman standing in the middle of a large cavern, she's illuminated by the gloom of the green flickering light coming from the four torches flanking the rune etched platform. I slither around in the darkness, I "need" to get behind her ! I "Need" to kill her! I flick my forked tongue, getting a taste of my prey. I know she's dangerous and I'll have to be careful, I cannot fail him again! Slowly I slither along the wall, occasionally flicking my tongue to make sure she hasn't moved.
She hasn't, and I start approaching carefully, using the sparse cover: a few barrels, a desk and some other decaying furniture, chairs no longer able to support any weight. A bed with flimsy sheets and a rotting mattress. As I move closer I can hear her talking… "No, Yeah, I know it's not my fault… Look that bastard did it willingly… what do you Mean not our problem !?" Who is she talking to, I briefly wonder? Well no matter, just a few more yards and she'll pay for what she's done. "Look, I'm going, with or without your help!... Don't you dare give me the temper speech…" I inch closer while coiling the rest of my body, the anticipation is almost unbearable. I build up in height coiling my head back, ready to strike, I want to go straight for her neck. That filthy servant's corpse comes into view, diary still in his hand. Now I can hear the other voice too "Okay, fine, have it your way, you know this sav… Look out behind you !?" I don't hesitate for a second and my head rushes forward, jaw unhedged, poison dripping from my fangs.
Faster than I thought possible I'm struck, mid strike, frozen in place. The hole where her wand burned through the back of her robes is still smouldering. "Don't get your knickers in a twist, I saw it coming a mile away" she says icily. "Look, I've got to go, just make sure everything is ready" she continues, shoving something in her pocket while she is turning to face me. My rage at this filthy whore is quickly building as I try to break the spell. She looks at me with barely hidden hate, from behind those horrible piercing green eyes. Raven black hair tied in a braid, while a few curling locks grace the side of her face. She looks to be in her early twenties and she's still wearing that hateful sword on her hip. Wand in hand she crosses the distance between us, stepping over the corpse.
She stops right in front of me, her eyes level with mine. "Didn't think he had it in him to actually care for something other than himself" she says, her voice dripping with disgust. "This will be the second time I kill you". Slowly she draws that horrible sword, the runes decorating the deadly blade glowing white with power, I could swear I hear it calling for my blood. She puts the point between my eyes with practiced ease. My rage is over flowing, I can't move an inch but my mind feels like a raging storm, I can't fail him ! not again ! NOT NOW ! I look at the filthy whore defiantly, desperately hoping her spell will break in time. She looks back. Her eyes go wide, Her expression changes, she looks surprised… then she scowls and backs away… re-sheathing her blade she starts pacing back and forth with a thoughtful expression on her face, brow slightly furrowed and shooting glances at me while opening her mouth to speak but deciding otherwise. I desperately renew my efforts to break free, my spell resistant scales should not be affected like this! She stops and turns to me, her expression softens as she looks me right in the eye. Why is she looking at me like that? She opens her mouth and closes it again, briefly closing her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose.
When she opens them there is affection and determination. "Look, don't tell anyone about this, okay? I'll see you soon enough." She draws her wand and points it at my head. "Goodnight Harry" she says softly with a hint of sadness, her mouth opens again and she whispers 'stupefy'. I see the bright red light erupting from her wand and everything turns black.
Somewhere in Little Whinging, number 4 Pivet Drive to more precise, Harry Potter woke up with a start. His scar burning and throbbing, this was not the first time it happened this summer.
Watching Cedric die at the hands of the former marauder, Peter Pettigrew, would be enough cause. The ritual and subsequent resurrection of Tom Marvolo Riddle would leave most adults worse for wear, let alone a 14 nearly 15 year old boy. Although 'boy' would no longer be an appropriate description of the young mistreated man. Since his introduction to the wizarding world at 11 Harry has been through more life and death situations than most adults. Always brave in the face of danger and standing by his friends through thick and thin. But so far this summer they have not returned the favour. Leaving him alone to wonder what horrors Riddle is spreading with his loyal death eaters, and only nightmares to keep him company.
But this dream was different by all accounts. It was so vivid and life like, more so than the memories that keep haunting him. Still with every waking second he could feel the dream slipping away. Sighing he grabbed his glasses from the bedside table.
Looking at the ceiling he tried to recall what he had seen. He vaguely recalled a girl or woman with vivid green eyes. They seemed oddly familiar but right now he failed to place them. Then the words 'goodnight Harry' as a sort of whisper echoed in his mind. He felt strangely comforted by them. 'Beats the nightmares any time' he thought absentmindedly, although it would have been better without the burning scar.
He glanced over at his alarm clock "00:05" "happy birthday me" he whispered into his dark lonely bedroom while he looked around, moonlight filtered in through his open window and crappy curtains. Hedwig was out hunting as evident by her empty cage. Uncle Vernon didn't like it one bit but as long as the neighbours were unawares off any "freaky-ness" Hedwig was free to do as she pleased. The rest of his room was a mess, his books where spread around most off his room. Clothes filling the gabs his books did not cover. Normally Harry wasn't so messy but this summer he just couldn't find the energy to clean it up. Thankfully the Dursley's let him be most of the time, even "Big D" could tell that messing with Harry right now would invite trouble. Not that they knew or cared what happened to him at the end of term, but even they could tell something was off. So they ignored him and treated him like he wasn't there. This suited Harry just fine, as a matter of fact it felt like an improvement.
What he did have issues with where his "friends". He got 2-3 letters from both Ron and Hermione and they said fuck all. "Sorry we can't say more" "hang in there they're bound to get you over here soon." All the while Harry was being kept in the dark about all things from the wizard world. He didn't even know where they were! How could they leave him here to rot all summer after what he'd been through! He figured the Weasley's would invite him over after one or two weeks, but not one word. NOT ONE. The only thing he could do was watch the muggle news and hope there were no unexplained deaths or freak accidents.
And now this dream on his 15th birthday, it seemed important somehow but he couldn't figure why and what little he did grasp was slipping though his fingers. He could really use Hermione right about now, but then again he was too stubborn to admit it and far too angry to owl them. If they wanted to ignore him, 'fine', two can play that game. Still seething, he resigned to the unfairness of it all and fell into a fitful slumber.