Author's note: Look! I'm not dead! More notes at the end of the chapter.

Fire. That's always how the dream begins. Then the smell of smoke and the horrible burning pain in his chest. Screams of people he used to know fill the air as he splutters and gasps for breath.

Then he wakes up screaming.

Seamus woke up, tangled in his blanket and sweating. The pain was gone now, but the dark undertone of death still lingered. No one else seemed to have heard him screaming, and the room was still and silent.

Every lifetime.

Help me.

He knew it was coming.

You have to believe me.

Seamus Finnigan was going to die and he knew it. His story was a long one.

Hundreds of years ago, before even You-Know-Who was born, Seamus Finnigan came into the world. Until he was fifteen, no one would have guessed there was anything different about him at all. However, in his fifth year at Hogwarts, sometime back in the 17th century, he started suffering nightmares.

Fire.

Screaming.

Then, a nearby magic school burnt down. Thousands were killed, and it was undoubtedly the biggest tragedy in the magic world for years. Then, aged sixteen, Seamus died in the arms of his best friend. And twenty years later, he turned up again, with perfect memories of his previous life, though very few people knew.

It all happened again. Aged fifteen, the nightmares started, and a village much valued by powerful witches and wizards burnt down. It was a brand new tragedy. And all over again, sixteen year old Seamus died. Over and over. Always the same.

And now he was fifteen and the nightmares were back.

Seamus debated telling his friends. He knew he was right, that wasn't the issue, but terror would reign over his school if he broke it to them. He was sure he'd suffer through stares and questions.

Not again. Please not again.

After a lot of deliberation and many people asking if he was okay, he decided to tell the people in his dormitory. Of course, Hermione and the rest of the Weasley's would be told very quickly. Hermione was smart, maybe she could figure out where the fire was going to be, and reduce the pain. There was no hope for his survival, hundreds of years of dying young had certainly killed that hope.

So he told them. Explained the whole long story. No one questioned it. Seamus guessed they knew better than that. Harry and Ron seemed to go into shock. They had never noticed Seamus much, but considered him a friend, and seemed upset. Neville asked questions.

How long?

What happens in the dreams?

Are you scared?

And Dean sobbed into his shirt but tried to hide it, and begged Hermione, who had been dragged in by a pale Ron to do something, anything to help him.

Hermione collected books. Read everything. But she found nothing. No mention of Seamus' condition. Was condition the right word? He mused.

"Maybe we should go to Dumbledore," Harry suggested, breaking the silence. The boy had always had faith in their headmaster. "He might know something."

"We could try," Seamus said grimly. "I don't think he can stop it."

Dean sniffled. The sorry group made its way to Dumbledore's office, shuffling their feet. The headmaster let them in immediately and they all sat down except for Seamus, and Dean, who stood protectively next to him. "You seem sad. Why are you here?"

"I don't know how to explain it…" Seamus started. Then he had an idea. "Check the school records for me." He mumbled.

"Very well." Dumbledore sifted through record after record, shook his head, paced, muttered to himself. Then he looked up and said, "You've appeared thirty times in this school over the last five hundred years. How?"

"I don't know, Professor."

"Wait. Every year, you've died aged sixteen, exactly a month after a fire in the wizarding world. Do you remember this?"

Seamus nodded. "Every detail, Professor. Around a year before the fire, I start having nightmares about it. And…I've started having nightmares now."

"Ah," Dumbledore said. Then, "Listen, Seamus. I'm going to send you to sleep now, and I need you to notice as much about the area as you possibly can. We need to figure out where the fire is going to take place."

Seamus sucked in a breath, and said with a shaky voice, "Okay. Dean, sit down." Dean reluctantly took his seat. Then, Seamus felt a sharp prickling in his chest and everything faded to black.

"Oh God! What's happening?" A frightened voice came from a young woman, holding the hand of a crying child.

"Help me!" Another voice.

Seamus started to feel sick. He could see flames raging at buildings.

Buildings he recognized.

It was Hogsmeade.

He started to retch and cough. It was getting too hot, and he was suffocating, but he couldn't wake up. Irrational fear clutched at his heart.

It's okay.

This is a dream.

You can't die here.

Seamus saw people fly past, trying to escape, throwing off burning jackets. It was too much, and he started to scream, well aware that he was probably screaming in real life too, begging Dumbledore to wake him up.

His vision clouded.

He woke up.

"Seamus!" He was lying on the ground and his friends were crowded round him, faces pale. Dean looked ready to cry again, so he forced himself into a sitting position to reassure them he was okay. Then he remembered what was going to happen. That, if it was anything like his last lifetime,(1982-a city burnt to the ground) or the time before(1965-a museum on an open day, completely destroyed, no survivors) it was going to be truly terrible.

"It's Hogsmeade." Seamus managed to whisper, and the eyes around him widened. Even Dumbledore looked completely taken aback. "They're burning Hogsmeade."

Then he fainted dead away on the carpet.

Well, I made an unexpected return! I'm sorry, I've been busy. Seriously. Drop me a review, PLEASE, it'll only take a second. I love constructive criticism, but no flamers. Are you enjoying this fic? I'll have the next chapter up really soon!

P.S Did you get the reference in the title?