Paper Flowers
He was having such an odd dream.
He was staring at a painting a portrait of a woman. She sat tall and proud in the frame, moving only slightly as compared to other portraits who walked about. Her skin was pale, her cheekbones high, her eyes green as emerald, her lips red as blood, and her hair as dark as night. He felt an odd feeling of recollection staring at her there.
Then, there was a noise from behind him, so he turned around
He was now standing outside in a garden; silver trees with shimmering leaves grew along the borders of the yard. Flowers of every color and shape imaginable littered the ground in clumps along a stone path with green sparkling gems intertwined. Grass green as emeralds grew everywhere else. Around him the sun was orange and pink, sunset perhaps? He could feel the wind, warm and soft, blowing around him, and smell the flowers, sweeter than candy.
It was so real.
Then there was laughter and he looked up from the ground. Someone was dashing along the path, running towards him. A girl. A little girl, perhaps 3 or 4 no older, with long black hair and sparkling green eyes - her face set in a wide smile as she laughed. She stopped midway down the path, showing off a bouquet of purple flowers, the same shade as her dress, and she smiled. She said something to him, but it was drowned out by the wind that came.
All of a sudden it was gusting, the sky grew dark, and he felt the need to run to her, to protect her. His feet started to move but the wind was faster, wrapping her in a funnel of silver leaves, blocking her form from view. He could hear her calling for someone, for him? He reached for her hand through the wind, but just as their fingertips touched the funnel whisker her away, leaving behind only the bouquet and her lingering scream.
He just stared at it, at the fallen flowers and his own two feet.
A rustling diverted his attention back up. The garden had changed - the trees were no bare, the flowers all dead, the grass gone. The sky was dark and depressing. But she caught his eyes. It was her again the same girl. She stood before him, head down, face covered by her hair.
She looked older now, maybe 2 or 3 years more? Her purple dress had been replaced by a dirty white gown, her feet were bare. The previous immaculate black hair was now stringy. When she at least raised her head to look at him, her eyes looked drained as if all the previous life and happiness had been drained from them.
He reached forward to embrace her to hold her but she pulled away with surprising strength and backed away down the path, shaking her head. Then there was a loud boom like thunder and a blinding flash of white light.
When at last he could see again, he recoiled in horror: the girl lie dead on the path, the white dress stained red - a sword with rubies in the hilt was pierced through her heart from behind. All around him the backdrop broke into shards and fell away into nothingness leaving just him and her dead form in the blackness.
A voice came from all around. The tone sounded familiar, but he couldn't place it.
"It's all for the greater good."
With a startled cry, Harry Potter woke up in his bed in a cold sweat.
AN1- A strange idea that came to me one early morning. Harry would be in his 5th year here. Unsure of whether or not I shall continue it. The title shall be relevant if I continue the story, for now it shall remain a mystery. Leave comments.