A lone figure stood inside a large mansion. Drapes flapped in the open windows. Stairs made of stone made the room chilled. Pictures of landscapes mocked him of where he has never been. Endless doors taunted the boy with choices.
So he went up the stairs. Cool, desolate stairs. Up and up he went, the steps seeming to never end. His legs burned and ached, but he kept going. He strained to reach the top, to figure out where he was. To find the answers to his questions.
Where was everyone? Where did they go? Where did he go?
Finally, finallly he got to the landing. There was no carpet to greet his bare feet. Just cool wood. More windows sent a blast of air through the lone corridor. More doors on either side. More choices, more decisions.
Not wanting to pick just one, the tall boy walked down the hall. His movements slow, he eyed each door carefully. They all looked the same. None had special markings. None were marred in any way. All of them were identical.
So on he went. There were no other halls to choose from. Just doors and a straight path. When he looked over his shoulder, the stairs and windows were gone. Just endless walls on either side.
Still, he chose none. He just walked forward, hands in his pockets.
No concept of time could be understood. There were no clocks, and since there were no windows, no sun or moon to tell the difference. Just doors.
On and on he went, pale blue eyes flicking this way and that.
And then the walls started to move inwards.
They came inching closer to the boy. The doors becoming smaller and smaller. The air was becoming stuffy. There were screams coming from all around him. There were people in front of him, behind him.
Holding his hands to his ears, he pressed against one wall.
The doors were gone.
Bodies were flying past him. Wands were held up, curses spewing from their tips. Sweat rolled off the bodies. Their hands shook, their breaths came out in pants, their bodies trembled, their words screams.
There was no laughter, there was no smiles.
It was war.
And then the bodies were gone.
Then there was only the opposite wall. It inched closer and closer. No matter what the boy did, it followed. He opened his mouth to scream, but nothing came out but harsh gasps.
It was difficult to breathe. His chest ached. The wall was touching his breast and back. There was no air. There was only pain.
He couldn't move. He couldn't yell for help. Even as everything turned, he could still hear their screams.
And he woke with a start.
Fred stared over at the bed beside him, smiling gently at his sleeping twin. George had never left him, or he hadn't left George. Whichever it was, it was false. They were still together. The battle had yet to begin, he had a few more hours until they would be called.
Falling back asleep, all memories of the dream slipped away.