Overlooking a village of muggles, Wormtail and He-Who-Must-Not –Be-Named were standing, looking at the results of that night. The Death Eaters were very successful, they doubted that hardly a person would be left alive. The Dark Mark hovering over the small town gave it an eerie green glow, making the dead bodies and destroyed homes look even more gruesome.
"Wormtail! Fetch me my cloak!"
"Ye-ss-s my Lord!"
"Don't stutter so, you incompetent Death Eater! You hardly helped tonight with the killings, you are weak! CRUCIO!"
Wormtail's screams could be heard for a mile away, and if anyone was watching this scene, the amount of pain from this curse was so numerous; it seemed like the pain went on forever, and Wormtail half wished he was dead, to escape the affect of the Cruticus Curse.
The laughter of Voldemort faded out as a boy of sixteen awoke from a dream.
Xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo.
Harry Potter sat up in bed in Number 4 Privet Drive, extremely sweaty. This dream was a dream that he would not be forgetting anytime soon. He tried not to replay the dream in his mind, again, and again, and again.
He sat there for a minute, and forced himself to think about other things…like the Dursleys. They were safe to think about, nothing wrong with them. But to no avail, the scene kept replaying, almost as if he wanted to see the contents of it again.
This was not a dream that Dumbledore would want to know about. He was quite a busy man, and Harry always managed himself before this. Plus, he felt that his dream THIS summer is not something he felt like sharing with the headmaster, despite the relationship he had with him.
Boy, that was one dream of many. They kept getting worse each night, and Harry couldn't do anything to stop them. So he figured he could deal with waking up extremely uncomfortable each night.
But as for now, Harry headed off to take a VERY cold shower. A dream with Ginny Weasely in it could do crazy things to a guy pumped with hormones.
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