The room was dark as the sun hadn't risen yet. A scream echoed through the walls.
"NOOO! PROFESSOR DUMBLEDORE!"
Harry Potter trembled as he took in his surroundings, opening his eyes. They were moist with unshed tears and his body was covered in sweat.
The dream he just had was most terrible. It started off good, with a large man telling Harry that he could do magic and would come to a special school to leave the Dursley's. He discovered friends and fortune and love.
Ron……Hermione…
"What happened to them? Where were they and most importantly, where am I?" Harry wracked his brain for non-existent answers.
"BOY, STOP WAILING OR I'LL SHOW WHAT REAL WAILING IS!!"
A voice thundered down the hall. Harry knows that voice. It barks commands and threats every day to his face.
Harry was still confused and thought some more. There were all those encounters with Voldemort, which involved pain, lots and lots of pain. What about his owl, Hedwig? And Wormtail? The Professors? Even knowing that Grawp was thriving would ease his trembling heart. There were his enemies, The Malfoys and Snape. And Quidditch matches that still needed to be won……. except Hogwarts, his home, might not reopen.
But why?—and that brought him back to his nightmare. Dumbledore, his wise grandfatherly headmaster, killed before his very eyes. But wait, it was just a dream, right? Dumbledore must still be alive…Harry had to get out of this strange dimension where he was at the Dursley's.
"Daaaaad….the freak woke me up!" said another familiar voice from the hall.
Dumbledore had to know about the attack….Voldemort must've let his defenses slip, letting Harry know about his plan. But where was Dumbledore? I must be dreaming, Harry mused. All that needs to happen is that Harry needed to go back to sleep, wake up in the Gryffindor dorm, and run to Dumbledore's office, screaming every foolish candy name he could think of to open the door.
Dumbledore would force Voldemort to retreat, and there would still be Quidditch and Potions class and his friends, right? At least until either he or Voldemort is dead.
"I'll teach you to wake up my poor family with your pathetic screaming!" Usually, Harry would flinch or hide from that sort of threat, but it doesn't matter because this was a dream and nothing could happen.
"There you are, you waste of flesh," bellowed Vernon Dursley from the recently opened door of Harry's cupboard.
"You can't hurt me!" squealed 11-year-old Harry. Wait…..a small voice, tiny body? What's going on, screamed Harry in his mind. I'm in my 6th year at Hogwarts, I'm 16!
"Oh, you are very mistaken and will pay for your attitude." Said a dangerously low tone from the hall.
Harry can't handle this right now. He needs to have peace and fall back asleep. Every second of Dumbledore not knowing about Voldemort and his plan to kill him is wasted. "Go away, umm… dream Uncle Vernon!"
"Haha… a dream, boy? Well let me ask you, can dreams do this?" Uncle Vernon ripped Harry from his bed and twisted his arm, satisfied when he heard a CRACK . Harry cradled his left arm, delicately. He was certain it was broken. No, Uncle Vernon, dreams can't do this. Harry thought bitterly.
"Well, boy, I expect you to do your chores as usual today, and since it is 4:00am, you better start them if you want dinner by 6:00pm, especially with that broken arm of yours. You are so clumsy sometimes." Uncle Vernon said sweetly before departing from the cupboard.
Harry laid there with his broken arm and realized something---
Magic was all a dream…