Chapter 1
In the Dead of Night
In the dead of a very cold and windy night, Harry Potter sat upright in his bed Sweat dripped down his face, his palms were wet, and he couldn't catch his breath. He had the feeling as if he had just run a 60 mile race. A Dream as clear as though it happened right in front of his eyes, startled him from his sleep.
Familiar faces, faces he wished he had never seen before, plotting something. He was sure they had said his name. But what could they be planning? In the back of his mind, he knew who these faces were. Though at the moment, he couldn't quite place their identities. They had dark hoods on and cold, angry voices. They were grouped together in some sort of circle, in a place he knew he had been before. Harry hadn't seen these faces in rather some time, that's all he was certain about these people.
A familiar pain arouse in his body, one that he hadn't felt in several years. It took a long time for the pain to go away. A stream of tears trickled down his face. The pain was brief but excruciating. After years and years of dreamless nights, why should he be feeling such agony?
He spent several moments trying to catch his breath and realizing he was in his own bedroom. Everything looked different all of the sudden. A blanket of darkness had settled over his room making things very unnatural, including his own self.
Harry placed his glasses back on his face and shared a long stare with his reflection in the mirror. What he saw in the mirror, was a sight he hadn't seen in many years. It was a man with a mixture of fright and anxiety on his face. The man looking back at him defiantly looked a great deal of years older than Harry really was. The man in the reflection was a stranger to him now. Now he only knew a man of happiness and great deal of pleasure. He felt his teenage self creeping back into his soul when the entire world lived in fear.
Too many thoughts rushed through Harry's mind. He desperately tried to think what this dream could mean, but he was too preoccupied recapturing his breath to come up with a reasonable explanation.
Dreams like this usually served as a premonition. Almost like a warning sign that something terrible was about to happen. Before his fourth year at school, he dreamed about two people talking about killing him and an old man being murdered. During his fifth year, he couldn't stop dreaming about long corridors. However, for the first time, it was impossible for this theory to be true. Lord Voldemort had been dead for nearly ten years now. Yet the issue of Lord Voldemort was usually the one that haunted his dreams.
Yet, why was something telling Harry, Voldemort may have something to do with this dream? He kept telling himself that he was dead; Voldemort had been dead for ten years now. Why, after so many years since he was destroyed, would he choose to come back now? Why would he be disturbing Harry's dreams. Could it be that Voldemort really wasn't dead; could he be hiding like the last time?
No, it couldn't be true; the prophecy promised one of them must die. Voldemort was dead. Just like the prophecy had intended, neither can survive while the other one survives, Harry had killed Voldemort. The Darkest Lord in the world of wizardry was finally defeated and up until now, there are been no signs or traces that he was alive. Ten years had gone by since Harry Potter went to Hogwarts School of witchcraft and wizardry. He was a twenty seven year-old, full grown wizard who had a nearly perfect life. There was hardly any reason he should be looking a fright.
Harry's appearance was nearly the same as it was twelve years ago, only it belonged to a man now. His hair was still jet black, and always looking untidy. Over the years he had grown a great deal taller, but still very skinny. The only difference was that of his infamous scar, for it was no longer there. The scar had disappeared the final night of Voldemort's existence, when Harry had vanquished his him and his power. Better off gone, Harry often thought to himself. Now I don't have to worry about people staring at my forehead all of the time.
Harry Potter had grown a great deal in the past ten years and ever since his triumphant defeat against Voldemort, the rest of the world seemed to have as well.
The wizarding world now had so little to worry and the ministry had never been in better shape. Fudge was thrown out of the ministry replaced with Arthur Weasley, as the new minister of magic. Harry had become an Auror at the ministry, as did his best friends, Ron and Hermione Weasley.
Most of the time, Harry enjoyed his job being auror. It was the only job Harry really considered at Hogwarts. At school, Harry was known to be solving mysteries, with the help of Ron and Hermione. It was the perfect job for him and he was one of the best in his field. Just as Harry had finally caught his breath, the rest of the world around him seemed to come back into focus. The pain had retired but his thoughts still dwelled in his mind. The sharp wind against the windows and the stirring of a sleeping woman was all the noise that could be heard heard.
The soft breathing belonged to Harry's wife, Ginny Potter. Even in the dark, her red hair flamed bright. Ginny's beauty was a sight for his, at the moment, weakened sole. Her eyes were deep blue, so deep if you looked into them you wouldn't be able to look at anything other than her eyes. Harry gazed at her for a long time, maybe because it was difficult to take his eyes off her. Or maybe he was just trying to preserve a magnificent memory. All he knew was thinking about Ginny was much better than thinking about Voldemort and strange hooded men. Most of Harry's life, Ginny had just been Ron's little sister. Before his seventh year when he began dating her, he never saw her as anything more than that. When he was twelve, he had saved Ginny from Tom Riddle and a basilisk, both of them nearly died. She was the only person Harry knew that experienced the wrath of Voldemort other than himself. In his last year of Hogwarts, more than ever before, he noticed the wonderful things about Ginny Weasley. Suddenly, she was no longer just Ron's little sister, but an extraordinarily beautiful and intelligent girl. As soon as their first date, he had fallen in love with her. Three years later, they were married. A year and half ago, the first child was born, James Potter. Harry's love for Ginny and James was so powerful that as he thought about, a small strain was taken from his heart, but very little. He knew that love was something unfamiliar to those hooded men that were in his dream. It was love that saved his life when he was a baby and it was love that killed Voldemort. Harry was trying to return to a more peaceful rest when the silence was broken by his son's cries. James' erupting screams awakened Ginny's sleep as well. She stirred for a moment followed by a wide yawn. "Three o'clock." she said groggily glancing at the enchanted grandfather clock in their bedroom. "Time to feed James." "No, darling," Harry said stopping Ginny from getting up. Despite that he was trying to go back asleep, Harry was wide awake. "You go back to sleep" he said kissing her warm cheek. He rose from their bed and headed across the hall to his son's nursery. James Potter, naturally named after Harry's father, had his mother's blue eyes and started to sprout some black hair which of course belonged to Harry. He saw himself and Ginny in the baby and couldn't help but be proud. Every time he looked into James' eyes and held him close there were short moments of little worry. He had the feeling that he could move the earth and heavens for him. He often looked at his one year old son and couldn't imagine him up against Lord Voldemort, a situation Harry himself was put in at James' age. As he lifted James from his cradle, he held him close to his chest. Almost immediately, his cries came to a halt. The baby felt at ease in his father's grip. Harry could feel the comfort in his son's body. Harry's only wish was that James goes through nothing he had to go through when he was a child. He would make certain that his son experience nothing he did. Just as Harry conjured a bottle of milk for James and began feeding him, Ginny walked with a gentle smile. "Hey." Harry whispered. He was just managing to get James to sleep. "Hey, do you want me to take over? I don't mind." Ginny said walking silently toward them. Harry handed James to his mother. "Everything alright, Harry?" she asked suspiciously, cradling the baby in her arms. He looked in the mirror again to see that his face was flushed and still moist with sweat. Harry made a fast decision not to tell Ginny about the dream. He was having a difficult enough time trying to explain it to himself. He had to think fast of a good excuse. "I'm fine dear." Harry reassured her. "Nothing to worry about, I just have.my head hurts. I woke up with a dreadful head ache. " "Darling, you should go back to bed." His wife said, walking over to kiss his cheek. Despite the pitiful excuse Harry gave her, she look concerned. "You look worried." "I'm not worried. Everything is fine." He lied. But really, there was nothing he should be worried about. It could have just been a nightmare. It had been to long since Voldemort's downfall to be taking this dream seriously. Though something was making him think twice. His final decision was to ignore it. He could not easily forget the hell he had gone through the last time Voldemort was at large. Now that he had a wife and child, the idea of Voldemort's return was horrific. He didn't want to be responsible for a panic. Harry spent the next half hour thinking until his head really did hurt. After awhile Ginny returned to bed, thinking Harry was asleep, she didn't say anything. Once Harry was sure she was gone in rest, he looked over at his sleeping wife. So many times Harry could have died, there were. So many chances that Harry wouldn't have what he did now. He had a real place to call home, someone in this world who loved him, and a family. But in truth, something maybe Harry hadn't realized yet, was he had every one of those things all along. At least as long as he had been at Hogwarts. Ever since he knew of what he really was, a wizard, he had gained everything he always wished he had. True, his life was far from easy. Confrontations with Voldemort nearly every year, all those times he nearly died, it seemed his life had gotten worse from when he lived with the Dursleys. He nearly always had a home, Hogwarts. It was Hogwarts where every summer he looked forward to going. Despite he was famous for something he wished never happened; he didn't feel entirely different there. It had been his favorite place in the world. Harry always had those who loved him. Ron and Hermione were his best friends since the beginning; they nearly died for him in seventh year, his trust always laid within them. Hagrid, whose death in seventh year had given him his second sequence of sorrow, had been his friend since first year as well. Hagrid had done everything in his power to save Harry even up to his final moment. The Order of the Phoenix and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, they protected him all those years when he was in danger of Voldemort. Some gave their own lives only to keep him from any harm. His godfather, Sirius, whose father-like love and friendship will always be remembered with Harry. Without him, Harry doubted any of the love he had now, would exist. And of course he always had the love of Albus Dumbledore. A love made of trust and respect that gave him strength and all the courage in the world. These people were and always had been his family. Harry vowed to himself that he would let nothing happen to his family. He played with Ginny's soft, silky hair for a few minutes, something he loved to do when ever he was plagued with something, until he drifted to an uneasy sleep. As Harry slept however, a cold, high pitched laugh pierced his ears. Horrible memories came alive in his mind. He couldn't escape from the laughter as crimson red eyes chased him through the darkness. Harry just continued to play it off as nothing as time, but little, went by. What he didn't know was something that hadn't harmed his thoughts in such a long time had come back to haunt his life.
In the Dead of Night
In the dead of a very cold and windy night, Harry Potter sat upright in his bed Sweat dripped down his face, his palms were wet, and he couldn't catch his breath. He had the feeling as if he had just run a 60 mile race. A Dream as clear as though it happened right in front of his eyes, startled him from his sleep.
Familiar faces, faces he wished he had never seen before, plotting something. He was sure they had said his name. But what could they be planning? In the back of his mind, he knew who these faces were. Though at the moment, he couldn't quite place their identities. They had dark hoods on and cold, angry voices. They were grouped together in some sort of circle, in a place he knew he had been before. Harry hadn't seen these faces in rather some time, that's all he was certain about these people.
A familiar pain arouse in his body, one that he hadn't felt in several years. It took a long time for the pain to go away. A stream of tears trickled down his face. The pain was brief but excruciating. After years and years of dreamless nights, why should he be feeling such agony?
He spent several moments trying to catch his breath and realizing he was in his own bedroom. Everything looked different all of the sudden. A blanket of darkness had settled over his room making things very unnatural, including his own self.
Harry placed his glasses back on his face and shared a long stare with his reflection in the mirror. What he saw in the mirror, was a sight he hadn't seen in many years. It was a man with a mixture of fright and anxiety on his face. The man looking back at him defiantly looked a great deal of years older than Harry really was. The man in the reflection was a stranger to him now. Now he only knew a man of happiness and great deal of pleasure. He felt his teenage self creeping back into his soul when the entire world lived in fear.
Too many thoughts rushed through Harry's mind. He desperately tried to think what this dream could mean, but he was too preoccupied recapturing his breath to come up with a reasonable explanation.
Dreams like this usually served as a premonition. Almost like a warning sign that something terrible was about to happen. Before his fourth year at school, he dreamed about two people talking about killing him and an old man being murdered. During his fifth year, he couldn't stop dreaming about long corridors. However, for the first time, it was impossible for this theory to be true. Lord Voldemort had been dead for nearly ten years now. Yet the issue of Lord Voldemort was usually the one that haunted his dreams.
Yet, why was something telling Harry, Voldemort may have something to do with this dream? He kept telling himself that he was dead; Voldemort had been dead for ten years now. Why, after so many years since he was destroyed, would he choose to come back now? Why would he be disturbing Harry's dreams. Could it be that Voldemort really wasn't dead; could he be hiding like the last time?
No, it couldn't be true; the prophecy promised one of them must die. Voldemort was dead. Just like the prophecy had intended, neither can survive while the other one survives, Harry had killed Voldemort. The Darkest Lord in the world of wizardry was finally defeated and up until now, there are been no signs or traces that he was alive. Ten years had gone by since Harry Potter went to Hogwarts School of witchcraft and wizardry. He was a twenty seven year-old, full grown wizard who had a nearly perfect life. There was hardly any reason he should be looking a fright.
Harry's appearance was nearly the same as it was twelve years ago, only it belonged to a man now. His hair was still jet black, and always looking untidy. Over the years he had grown a great deal taller, but still very skinny. The only difference was that of his infamous scar, for it was no longer there. The scar had disappeared the final night of Voldemort's existence, when Harry had vanquished his him and his power. Better off gone, Harry often thought to himself. Now I don't have to worry about people staring at my forehead all of the time.
Harry Potter had grown a great deal in the past ten years and ever since his triumphant defeat against Voldemort, the rest of the world seemed to have as well.
The wizarding world now had so little to worry and the ministry had never been in better shape. Fudge was thrown out of the ministry replaced with Arthur Weasley, as the new minister of magic. Harry had become an Auror at the ministry, as did his best friends, Ron and Hermione Weasley.
Most of the time, Harry enjoyed his job being auror. It was the only job Harry really considered at Hogwarts. At school, Harry was known to be solving mysteries, with the help of Ron and Hermione. It was the perfect job for him and he was one of the best in his field. Just as Harry had finally caught his breath, the rest of the world around him seemed to come back into focus. The pain had retired but his thoughts still dwelled in his mind. The sharp wind against the windows and the stirring of a sleeping woman was all the noise that could be heard heard.
The soft breathing belonged to Harry's wife, Ginny Potter. Even in the dark, her red hair flamed bright. Ginny's beauty was a sight for his, at the moment, weakened sole. Her eyes were deep blue, so deep if you looked into them you wouldn't be able to look at anything other than her eyes. Harry gazed at her for a long time, maybe because it was difficult to take his eyes off her. Or maybe he was just trying to preserve a magnificent memory. All he knew was thinking about Ginny was much better than thinking about Voldemort and strange hooded men. Most of Harry's life, Ginny had just been Ron's little sister. Before his seventh year when he began dating her, he never saw her as anything more than that. When he was twelve, he had saved Ginny from Tom Riddle and a basilisk, both of them nearly died. She was the only person Harry knew that experienced the wrath of Voldemort other than himself. In his last year of Hogwarts, more than ever before, he noticed the wonderful things about Ginny Weasley. Suddenly, she was no longer just Ron's little sister, but an extraordinarily beautiful and intelligent girl. As soon as their first date, he had fallen in love with her. Three years later, they were married. A year and half ago, the first child was born, James Potter. Harry's love for Ginny and James was so powerful that as he thought about, a small strain was taken from his heart, but very little. He knew that love was something unfamiliar to those hooded men that were in his dream. It was love that saved his life when he was a baby and it was love that killed Voldemort. Harry was trying to return to a more peaceful rest when the silence was broken by his son's cries. James' erupting screams awakened Ginny's sleep as well. She stirred for a moment followed by a wide yawn. "Three o'clock." she said groggily glancing at the enchanted grandfather clock in their bedroom. "Time to feed James." "No, darling," Harry said stopping Ginny from getting up. Despite that he was trying to go back asleep, Harry was wide awake. "You go back to sleep" he said kissing her warm cheek. He rose from their bed and headed across the hall to his son's nursery. James Potter, naturally named after Harry's father, had his mother's blue eyes and started to sprout some black hair which of course belonged to Harry. He saw himself and Ginny in the baby and couldn't help but be proud. Every time he looked into James' eyes and held him close there were short moments of little worry. He had the feeling that he could move the earth and heavens for him. He often looked at his one year old son and couldn't imagine him up against Lord Voldemort, a situation Harry himself was put in at James' age. As he lifted James from his cradle, he held him close to his chest. Almost immediately, his cries came to a halt. The baby felt at ease in his father's grip. Harry could feel the comfort in his son's body. Harry's only wish was that James goes through nothing he had to go through when he was a child. He would make certain that his son experience nothing he did. Just as Harry conjured a bottle of milk for James and began feeding him, Ginny walked with a gentle smile. "Hey." Harry whispered. He was just managing to get James to sleep. "Hey, do you want me to take over? I don't mind." Ginny said walking silently toward them. Harry handed James to his mother. "Everything alright, Harry?" she asked suspiciously, cradling the baby in her arms. He looked in the mirror again to see that his face was flushed and still moist with sweat. Harry made a fast decision not to tell Ginny about the dream. He was having a difficult enough time trying to explain it to himself. He had to think fast of a good excuse. "I'm fine dear." Harry reassured her. "Nothing to worry about, I just have.my head hurts. I woke up with a dreadful head ache. " "Darling, you should go back to bed." His wife said, walking over to kiss his cheek. Despite the pitiful excuse Harry gave her, she look concerned. "You look worried." "I'm not worried. Everything is fine." He lied. But really, there was nothing he should be worried about. It could have just been a nightmare. It had been to long since Voldemort's downfall to be taking this dream seriously. Though something was making him think twice. His final decision was to ignore it. He could not easily forget the hell he had gone through the last time Voldemort was at large. Now that he had a wife and child, the idea of Voldemort's return was horrific. He didn't want to be responsible for a panic. Harry spent the next half hour thinking until his head really did hurt. After awhile Ginny returned to bed, thinking Harry was asleep, she didn't say anything. Once Harry was sure she was gone in rest, he looked over at his sleeping wife. So many times Harry could have died, there were. So many chances that Harry wouldn't have what he did now. He had a real place to call home, someone in this world who loved him, and a family. But in truth, something maybe Harry hadn't realized yet, was he had every one of those things all along. At least as long as he had been at Hogwarts. Ever since he knew of what he really was, a wizard, he had gained everything he always wished he had. True, his life was far from easy. Confrontations with Voldemort nearly every year, all those times he nearly died, it seemed his life had gotten worse from when he lived with the Dursleys. He nearly always had a home, Hogwarts. It was Hogwarts where every summer he looked forward to going. Despite he was famous for something he wished never happened; he didn't feel entirely different there. It had been his favorite place in the world. Harry always had those who loved him. Ron and Hermione were his best friends since the beginning; they nearly died for him in seventh year, his trust always laid within them. Hagrid, whose death in seventh year had given him his second sequence of sorrow, had been his friend since first year as well. Hagrid had done everything in his power to save Harry even up to his final moment. The Order of the Phoenix and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, they protected him all those years when he was in danger of Voldemort. Some gave their own lives only to keep him from any harm. His godfather, Sirius, whose father-like love and friendship will always be remembered with Harry. Without him, Harry doubted any of the love he had now, would exist. And of course he always had the love of Albus Dumbledore. A love made of trust and respect that gave him strength and all the courage in the world. These people were and always had been his family. Harry vowed to himself that he would let nothing happen to his family. He played with Ginny's soft, silky hair for a few minutes, something he loved to do when ever he was plagued with something, until he drifted to an uneasy sleep. As Harry slept however, a cold, high pitched laugh pierced his ears. Horrible memories came alive in his mind. He couldn't escape from the laughter as crimson red eyes chased him through the darkness. Harry just continued to play it off as nothing as time, but little, went by. What he didn't know was something that hadn't harmed his thoughts in such a long time had come back to haunt his life.