Scars

He wakes up in a cold sweat, heart and mind racing with no stopping point in sight.

It's the third night of this in a row, and he's starting to regret falling asleep. No matter how much his mind refuses to think about it during the day, the nights are the same: that chilling, inhuman voice; that unmistakable beam of green; that unseeing, lifeless face, pale against the backdrop of tomb and newly-planted grass.

Surprisingly, it's not the next encounter that gets to him, not the reawakening of the most dangerous wizard of the century. He doesn't take it lightly, of course; he doesn't have a death wish, despite what some might say. Not for that situation, anyway.

But his ally – his friend – Cedric – is dead. An innocent, promising, selfless person… gone without a trace. Somehow, Harry knows it's his fault.

How he wishes he could tell himself it's all just a dream.