The Dream.
It was early morning, as Harry tossed in his sleep. His thoughts drifted from simple nothings; first it lingered on his friends, Ron and Hermione, and then moved to school and his OWLs As he fell deeper into his dreams and thoughts, they became misty and over clouded. The familiar scene arose to Harry's view. The graveyard looked exactly the same as it did on that very night, however Harry knew better. In front of him, was a gravestone – a new addition to the eerie place. 'Here lies Cedric Diggory. A loyal friend and a wonderful son. Rest in peace, my boy.'
It always shocked Harry to see Cedric's grave, despite that he had seen it many times by now. No matter how hard he tried to not to think of it, every time he thought of his death it sent a nauseating pang through his stomach. Although it had never happened in reality, in his dream world Harry never quite understood why Amos Diggory had decided to bury his beloved son at the place of his death.
If this dream was going to be like any other – which it was, Harry was counting on it – then he knew what he had to do next to escape this nightmare. He turned his head to face Tom Riddle's grave. It still sent chills down his spine, just remembering how the reaper entrapped Harry in its arms, as Peter Pettigrew sliced into the boy's wrist…
No, Harry's dream-self thought, not this, please…
A band of figures huddled around a hooded creature, and the misty fog began to thicken. The creature pushed past his disloyal Death Eaters, to come face to face with the young boy.
Humour swam in his deep crimson eyes, with death illuminating his face and features. "Harry Potter…" the resurrected Voldemort wheezed, reaching out his bony hand to touch Harry's forehead…
The fog became extremely thick, engulfing Voldemort and the gathering of Death Eaters, leaving Harry surrounded by emptiness. This had never happened before – usually Voldemort would reach Harry, and then he would wake up, sweating and normally screaming out. The dream had happened so often, Harry could recite it.
Then with a sudden change, the fog smeared away, to reveal a buzz of people hanging around some where Harry recognised as Hogwarts. Each and every student was in conversation, ready for the new school year to begin, so no one noticed Harry's arrival.
Harry looked down, and noticed how his own appearance had changed. Once in his Triwizard tournament clothes, he was now in his regular school robes.
At the front of the crowd stood three people, identified as Head Boy and Girl from the golden badges pinned to their chests, and Professor McGonagall. The Head Girl tapped her foot impatiently, trying to grab the attention of the fifth years in front of her. "Hello! Be quiet, please!" She squeaked, having no luck whatsoever calming the noise.
Chuckling, the Head Boy shook his head at her. "Evans, you're rubbish at this. Let me." The boy placed his two forefingers between his lips, and let out a deafening whistle, allowing Evans to yell "Shut up!", silencing the crowd. Professor McGonagall simply rolled her eyes at the technique, yet she did not interfere.
"Th-thank you." Evans stuttered, fiddling with her finger nails nervously. "Okay, well, we're here to talk to you about your OWLs We've done them too, and I can tell you, they aren't as easy as they seem." She bit her lip and paused, making sure everyone was paying attention. "They're difficult compared to what you've previously done, but planning your studying carefully…"
The Head Boy rolled his eyes, and cut Evans off. "Basically, if you study you'll be fine. But you don't have to study all the time." He smirked mischievously at Evans, as if to say 'like you did' before continuing. "You need a bit of fun, otherwise you'll over work yourself."
"Yes," Evans hissed back, "but only if you've finished your work."
"Lily, a break now and again wouldn't have killed you." The boy addressed Evans personally, possibly forgetting the crowd watching.
"James." Lily mimicked his whine, also forgetting and oblivious to McGonagall's stare. "I did have a break every so often, thank you very much."
James half huffed, half snorted. "So why didn't you come to Hogsmeade with me when I asked you?"
Evans opened her mouth to retaliate; however the professor behind them pushed past and raised her voice, ending their bickering. "Thank you, James and Lily. Does anyone have any questions?"
The crowd stayed silent, with the exception of a few students sniggering about the Head Boy and Girl's argument.
"No? Good. Now, off you go to your common rooms." McGonagall ordered, adding under her breath "I need to sort out these two…". She pulled over Lily, and tried grabbing James' attention, who was locked eyes with Harry.
All the way through, Harry couldn't help but feel weird inside. Something wasn't right, it all felt wrong. We look the same. It was true; James and Harry looked very similar to each other, and Harry knew at the back of his thoughts he was looking into the eyes of his father, James Potter.
"Potter! Get over here!" The professor frowned. At once, both Harry and James made their way to McGonagall, and Harry froze, realising she had meant James. She began to whisper her rant to the two, telling them off for their tangent during the speech, letting Harry wonder his thoughts.