A/N: I'm not used to doing things like this but the best Seeker in the world, .Xanda, deserves something worth reading. I hope she likes it
Haunted
It was a dream. It was the same dream that occurred almost every night and Harry couldn't help but anticipate what was to come. He felt a jolt of adrenaline right before bedtime every single night. Even though the war had ended years ago and Voldemort had been long dead, the dreams never stopped.
Harry stood in the middle of this room. It was a room covered by mirrors and he had the feeling that he had been there before. He couldn't find anything that resembled an exit but this is how it always starts. He wasn't allowed to leave but this time, he didn't want to.
"I've been waiting for you,"
An eerie but familiar voice hissed from an area in the room. Harry couldn't figure out which spot in the room that the voice would come from. He enjoyed the chase. He pleasured in not knowing where the source of the voice was coming from. Then it would feel too real and he didn't want it to seem real. His fantasy was better than his reality at this point.
"I know you have," Harry whispered.
He had been haunted by this dream since before the war. Before, he had just believed that Voldemort was trying to get into his brain. He assumed that he had been doing the same thing year after year until Harry couldn't take it anymore. Turns out the dreams never stopped. Harry knew how they played out and what would happen next.
"You don't seem to have a problem making me wait, do you Potter?" Voldemort hissed.
Harry was never in the dream to please him. No, he was there because he had no choice. He had no power to escape the taunting dream that occurs every night. No, Harry just learned to deal with it. However, on a night like tonight, he was struggling to just deal with it. Things were starting to happen in this dream that he had not happened before.
The air surrounding Harry became frigid and shivers crept up Harry's spine continuously until the scenery around him had changed. Harry couldn't place his surroundings again but he knew he had been there before.
"Where am I?" Harry questioned the presence.
The trees were bare of leaves and the sky was pitch black. At least, it looked pitch black due to the mass amount of clouds surrounding them. The leaves crunched under his feet and in the distance he could hear the creatures of the night come to call. Harry back up slightly and bumped into what he hoped was a tree.
Voldemort didn't answer him. Instead, he finally came into Harry's vision but his face could not be seen. His long bony fingers pointed towards the annoyingly bright light that Harry knew he had never seen before.
"You know where you are," Voldemort teased.
Harry could feel the air around his grow even colder and he watched as Voldemort bent down towards a dead unicorn that was laying on its death bed of fallen leaves.
"You've watched me do this before," Voldemort whispered, getting closer to the unicorn.
Harry wanted this dream to stop. His reoccurring nightmare had changed to something that he wasn't quite sure belonged in his brain. How is it even possible that from beyond the grave, Voldemort still haunted Harry? He had plagued his mind of foolish dreams for years but never had Voldemort been so cruel as to make him relive his past.
"Let's think about your childhood Harry," Voldemort raged, pushing Harry further into the tree until Harry fell into this small and quiet space.
Harry knew he had been here as well. He couldn't really see it but the air around him smelled faintly of burnt coffee and scrambled eggs. The beating from above came from a certain chubby relative who enjoyed making Harry's life miserable. Harry reached up for the light switch to tug and the moment that he had, he felt the feeling of falling backwards again.
"Do you know where you are now, Harry?" Voldemort asked.
Voldemort was leaning over what looked like a wooden bar with his wand pointed directly in front of Harry's nose. Harry looked around and noticed his childhood baby blanket lying next to him. When he looked past Voldemort, he saw his dead mother lying on the ground next to the cradle.
Harry was in his very first bedroom. He was back in that moment right before he became The Boy Who Lived and he was staring right at death itself.
"You know exactly where you," Voldemort whispered.
"Avada Kedavra!" Harry heard Voldemort shout.
In that moment, Harry thought he was done for but he woke to a cold sweat and a very scared wife at his side.
"What's going on?" Ginny questioned, grabbing a napkin from her bedside table and wiping the sweat away.
"I'm not sure…" Harry started.
Once Ginny was done cleaning him up he decided that he needed to go back to bed. He needed to see this dream one more time before his own thoughts consumed him.