Harry Potter and the Shadows of Time
Harry was sprinting now, his breath coming in sparse, short gasps, hardly enough to sustain this pace. Driven by ultimate fear, he ran and ran until it seemed he could not run any more. It was a futile attempt. What he did not realize was that you can't run from your past. No matter how hard you try….
Harry eventually came across a cave, for which he was thankful. He waved his wand (thankfully, it was still in one piece), and a quaint-looking mattress appeared. Harry flopped down on the bed, every last ounce of strength and will wrung out of him. He felt like he could sleep forever in this cavern, in which he would be protected and safe. He was soon to be proven wrong. Very wrong.
The dreams he had were tortured and constant. Horrors of the day and days past, once thought to be over with, now returned. Apparitions of persons long thought to be dead appeared again. As the dead returned to life, so did the living die. And how horrible it was, to see friends cut down time after time; to see a thought-to-be-vanquished foe resurrected. Harry was losing the battle of sanity; and fast. He began to wonder how much more of this he could take; as he wondered this, the more sure he was of the fact that he was going to find out. Like it or not, Harry had embarked on the memory slideshow from hell.