Manifestation
Dream

Rating: K+

Genre: Angst/Mystery

Summary: It was just another night, and just another dream. Why should he think anything would be different? But when he woke up, the next day, everything was different, and once again his heart broke; and he felt nothing could ever be the same.

Disclaimer: I own nothing related to Harry Potter. This was written simply as a diversion to boredom.

A/N: Wow, um, written waaay back when. Like a few months after OotP. So, it doesn't deal with anything in HBP.

He was there again; in the terrifying Department of Mysteries, trying to decide which door to go through to find Sirius, in the room that he now knew as the Death Chamber. But...again? And how did he know it was the Death Chamber?

The fight with Voldemort..remember, after, Dumbledore called it the Death Chamber... a sudden thought flashed through his head, but it flickered out just as quickly, knowing it did not belong, just as Death Eaters did not belong in the Ministry of Magic...Harry had had no fight with Voldemort for a year, at least. Death Eaters in the Ministry of Magic?

Harry shook his head, willing the obtrusive voices be silent, till he find the right door. Sirius was behind the right door, about to fall through the veil, fall through into death, condemned, killed by his own cousin...No, Sirius was safe at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black...Harry blinked, having no idea where his thoughts were coming from. They were just, there, skipping through his head, laughing at him when he tried to be serious...SIRIUS!

He burst through the nearest door, hoping against hope that he was not too late..although what could he do?...or maybe Dumbledore had been doubly attentive and somehow saved Sirius...or maybe Lupin, Moody, Tonks, Kingsley...any one of them could have saved Sirius.

No, you know they could not, it was all your fault, only YOU could have sav- -

His head reeled as he took in the scene, somehow familiar, although he intuitively knew that déjà vu was out of the question. He did not see much fighting; only hiding, Neville in an undersized nook, a small and ostensibly young Death Eater in another; only slaughter, the wizards taking advantage of Dumbledore's arrival to Stun as many Death Eaters as they could...

Dumbledore's already here, you're too late.

Harry had hardly taken in this imperceptible sneer when he noticed one pair still dueling..Bellatrix Lestrange and Sirius Black, flashes of red light dashing between them as quickly as the tan colour that was their hands flashed back and forth-defending, attacking, defending, attacking, a seemingly endless dance that would only end in the final destination, the unavoidable fate of all, death...

Harry stood mesmerized-watched, transfixed as one of the red lights struck home; watched as a member of the Black family fell through the veil; watched as the victor stood as spellbound as Harry himself-as Dumbledore, as Moody, as most Death Eaters, watched, watched, watched as Bellatrix fell through the dreaded veil, the veil that Harry somehow knew was Death; same as he knew that he would never see the repulsive face of Bellatrix Lestrange again. Neville had been avenged. Sirius had been avenged..

As he thought this, Harry looked down, saw Sirius standing silently, gazing back at Harry, sweaty but triumphant, injured but alive, a victory on his face that was somehow sad as well as joyful, an air of fulfillment intermingled with deficiency, a horrible feel of something lacking, something incomplete, something extremely, terribly, wrong...

He woke up with a start. There had been a dream; he knew this by the exhaustion that came after intense emotion. Exhaustion that by all rights should not have come after such long sleep.

Lying back down, Harry waited while his dream-or was it a nightmare?-came back to him, careful not to think of anything, anyone else lest that thing, that person become forever intertwined with his dream.

Flashes of it were coming now, even as he heard the Weasleys begin to stir, Hedwig begin to coo softly. There had been Dumbledore, Tonks, Moody... Lupin, Kingsley...Sirius...all in the Department of Mysteries..

Harry felt beads of sweat pop out on his face. Sirius, whom he had seen fall through the veil by his very own eyes. Why did he have this dream, this horrible reminder of what could never be, of Sirius well, of Sirius alive, of Sirius with a confused look on his face as he saw Lestrange fall through the veil.

Harry closed his eyes, going back over his dream. He carefully took in every detail, everything that he could remember, and then some. The dream stopped right after he had locked eyes with Sirius. But Harry, no longer a participant in his dream but a vigilant observer, caught a glance from Dumbledore out of the corner of his eye. Perusing the old wizards face carefully, Harry saw many of the same emotions he had found on Siriuss and Lestranges faces. But there was also a gleam of knowledge in the aged mans face, as if he knew something that Harry did not. Opening his eyes, Harry silently got up and dressed, shoving the absurd thought from his head. Dumbledore knew many a thing more than Harry.