Chapter Two

The afternoon sun was warm and a light breeze blew through the village, only barely disturbing the leaves that lay on the ground. It was a welcome change from the darkness of the night before. The horrors of the nightmare still besieged her, playing over in her mind when she let it slip in and each time she closed her eyes she could still see those red eyes, glowering with rage and hatred.

But sitting in the front garden of the estate made everything seem better. Flowers of yellow, pink and blue sat in beds along the front gate and patches of grass extended to cover the lawn until hitting a small pond that ran from one side to the other. Round stepping stones sat across the middle, lining up the pathway that led to the front steps. And to the left of the aforementioned steps was a bench where Sage currently sat.

Slowly, she swung her legs back and forth, watching her bare feet as they gently disturbed the small stones surrounding her and the bench. The tiny clicking sounds were comforting and she continued to do it, determined to keep all the bad thoughts from her mind. It's not that she hadn't had bad thoughts before but these ones were different. They were disturbing and evil, giving her strange new feelings that she didn't want to explore. But as quickly as the thoughts came, Sage pushed them away, doing her hardest to deny them.

Unbeknownst to her, Dumbledore stood at the kitchen window, his twinkling blue eyes firmly fixed on her. An impassive expression adorned his face as he watched her, thinking of all the possible things that might be running through her head. Of course, he knew about the nightmares. They have plagued her since she was much too young to understand them.

But the older she got the more she tried to hide it, pretend that the nightmares had stopped but just one look in her eyes told him otherwise. But it wasn't long before she stopped looking at him altogether, getting wise to what he was really doing. Sometimes he felt guilty about it but it had been the only way to know what was going on and how she was really feeling, since she'd decided to close down and withdraw.

Although sometimes there were still glimpses of the young, innocent girl he'd raised; like when she received a new book or when she saw something she found interesting and wanted to share until she remembered. Then she'd just go back to the way she was now; quiet and distant.

There were times when he wanted those days back. They'd always seemed so simple and the consequences weren't so high. The highest point was reached last year when the school had no choice but to expel her for a particularly vicious attack on another student. With great remorse he had attempted to change the parents' minds but they couldn't be persuaded so Sage was now stuck here, learning from him or his brother when he wasn't available. Some lessons were great tests of patience, for both of them, but otherwise it wasn't progressing too badly.

After a quiet sigh, Dumbledore opened the kitchen window without moving and called out in a gentle tone. "Sage, supper is ready."

The dark haired girl on the bench turned her head ever so slightly at the call of her name and in response, she only nodded and rose to her feet and headed for the front door which already lingered opened on its hinges. On entering the kitchen, she saw Dumbledore had already moved to his chair at the wooden table. Two bowls sat at each end, containing a stew she knew well, full of vegetables and chunks of beef.

Sage went straight to her chair and sat down. As she spooned the stew she avoided glancing up at the man sitting opposite because conversation wasn't something she wanted tonight. But she was out of luck again as Dumbledore shifted in his chair and opened his mouth, the lack of eye contact not deterring him.

"Are you alright, my dear?"

"Yes," answered Sage with a nod of her head.

It turned quiet; only the sound of cutlery against china was heard. After the second bite Dumbledore' voice filled the room again, making Sage's eyes close in momentary annoyance.

"Your skills with non verbal spells are coming along nicely," commented Dumbledore. "Don't forget I'll be testing you tomorrow afternoon."

"I know," muttered Sage.

The date of the test hadn't been forgotten. It had actually been a day that was dreaded. Despite Dumbledore's assurances of her improvement, the doubts remained. The point of non verbal spells eluded her although she didn't dare mention that to Dumbledore, knowing that she'd get a lecture on their importance and then have to write an essay on it. And that was something she could do without.

After her third mouthful, Sage swirled the stew around in the bowl, watching as the ingredients swam together. It was interesting until she heard Dumbledore clear his throat which was the first sign to stop what she was doing. So, she released the spoon, letting it hit the side loudly. It didn't get the reaction she was expecting.

"Are you sure you're alright?" asked Dumbledore, voice full of concern.

"Yes," repeated Sage as she pushed the chair out, the legs scraping against the floor and rising to her feet.

Already she'd had enough for tonight and being alone was all she wanted. Picking up the bowl she went to the sink and placed it inside, the white china barely making a sound against the clean metal. Another scraping noise sounded through the room and for a moment it made Sage freeze, knowing that Dumbledore had stood up. Not wanting to do this, Sage turned and headed for the kitchen door but without hearing him move, Dumbledore was already there, his face impassive other than the kind smile.

"If something is wrong you can tell me," said Dumbledore supportively.

This time Sage said nothing, choosing to just stand where she was instead. Dumbledore approached gingerly and looked down at her. But she wasn't looking back. Her eyes were focused on the floor. Slowly, Dumbledore placed a hand under her chin and lifted her head. Within a few moments their eyes met but Sage didn't hold it, choosing to wrench her head from his hand and break the brief contact, finding the same pressure as last time.

"Don't do that," Sage garbled angrily.

"Do what?" asked Dumbledore innocently.

"I know what you're doing when there's eye contact," snapped Sage in a low voice. "I'm not stupid."

"Never have I considered you as such," said Dumbledore softly.

Again, Sage kept quiet and without resistance she stepped around Dumbledore and left the kitchen. Hurriedly, she walked to the stairs, wanting to reach her room quickly. At reaching it, she walked inside and pushed it closed behind her, not caring that it was still slightly ajar.

The few steps to her bed were quick and she sat down, sighing heavily, her shoulders slumping. She couldn't help but think that the older she got, the worse things got with Dumbledore. It was as though he was watching every move, waiting for something to happen. But she didn't know what and that was the frustrating thing.

After a quick glance around her silent room, Sage removed the wand from her pocket and placed it on the bedside table before she changed into the white nightgown that had been neatly folded under her pillow. Folding back the dark pink bed covers, she slipped into bed and took out the book she was reading from the top draw beside her. The spine of the book cracked as she opened it to chapter fifteen and settled back on the soft pillow, exhaling contently. An hour and a half past before sleep took her, the book falling flat against her chest.

It was dark and hot. The humidity was higher than it should have been for the time of year but the source of it was unknown. An indistinct noise echoed around her and she glanced toward the window. The open curtain let in the only bit of light making it appear dim which caused her to squint.

Feeling suffocated, she walked to the window and pushed it up, wanting relief. With a little encouragement, the window moved upwards, the wood squeaking as thought it were tight and hadn't been opened in years and without waiting, she stuck her head out, eyes closed and took a deep breath.

A gulp of cool air filled her lungs and she exhaled in relief, glad that it had been something in the room and not outside. A cool breeze wafted past, disturbing her long dark locks so that they fell forward, swaying with the light breeze. But a sudden loud bang made her eyes shoot open.

The window faced an open cemetery that looked horrifyingly familiar. The scattered, burnt bones remained as was the crouched over statue that stuck out like a sore thumb. In the sky above were black clouds that swirled around as though alive and an eerie female laughter escaped the scene, seeming to come from nowhere. It sent chills down her spine.

"Sage... turn around, darling..."

The voice brought Sage back into the room and she face the darkest part. The window snapped shut beside her, making her jump. The voice spoke again, making her eyes widen in fear.

"Come here, Sage... Come to me..."

The darkness lifted as thought a black curtain had been dragged out of sight and it was then she saw him; the pale, red-eyed man, sitting on a high backed throne chair, his snake sitting on top of it, hissing lightly.

"No," muttered Sage as she shook her head and back away. "This isn't happening."

"Deny all you want," hissed the pale man. "It will change nothing."

The space behind her ended and Sage hit the wall. The deafening sound of metal materialised from nowhere and bars encased her, giving her only a few feet in which to walk. The pale man laughed and Sage stepped forward, grabbing hold of a bar in each hand. They were cold and she shook them but they held strong. The effort only gained more laughter that resonated off the walls and a solid thud hit the ground. The snake had moved and began crawling towards her.

"My pet will never hurt you," stated the pale man.

"Let me go," whimpered Sage, her knuckles turning stark white as she gripped the bars even tighter.

"But you've waited so long to know who you really are," he drawled in a lazy voice. "Don't you want to know?"

Sage looked directly at the man across the room. He was unlike any man she had ever seen. But despite the terror he produced there was something about him. Something that made her want to get closer and ask him all he knew. It almost felt as though she knew him but the feeling was a lie. If she had met someone like that, she'd remember them.

"If your mind were open it would be easier," he commented.

Sage paused, giving a confused stare. This was the first time this had happened. Before it had always just been callings and scares but this was different. This was an actual two-way conversation.

"The mind is a complex thing," the pale man said as though reading her thoughts. "I can only scratch the surface, which is what this is. The fact that you're dreaming made things difficult. You're not conscious of what's happening and when you wake you'll only remember minute details."

Different images and scenarios raced through Sage's mind, distracting her from the snake that had just reached the cell and was slithering through the bars. At the loud hiss, Sage looked down at it on the floor and watched as it inched closer.

Fear rushed through her body and she attempted to step back but it was too late. The snake pounced and wrapped itself gracefully around her body, crawling up and up, not stopping until it reached her collar bone. Panic joined the fear and Sage grabbed at the snake, trying to push it off but it was all in vain as the scaly skin was perfectly secure. Another hiss sounded as she tried a final time to get free before the light headedness settled in but she failed and fell to the floor, the sickening thud echoing through her ears.

"I don't want to die," she stammered through weakening breaths.

The pale man laughed and sat back in his chair, his pale fingers drumming on the arm rest. "You know what happens when you die in a dream, don't you?"

The air was gone and darkness filled her vision.

Spluttered coughing and deep intakes of breath were heard as Sage sat up in her bed, clutching at her chest, desperately needing more air. As the seconds disappeared in silent, so did the dream and the tight feeling that clenched at her insides.

The sitting area was currently silent. The only occupant sat in an armchair near the window, the lamp beside him the only source of light in the room and despite its dimness, the runes he was reading could still be seen clearly. Across the room was a fireplace where a small fire heated the room, the dancing orange flames going unnoticed. In the corner sat a Muggle television and opposite it was the sofa where a folded blanket and pillow sat.

The hour was late and normally Dumbledore would have gone to bed already but the knowledge that Sage's nightmare returned last night had him worried. It wasn't uncommon for them to happen at least a few times a week but that's not what bothered him. It was more the intensity of them that was worrying him.

To most people dreams were just strange things brought out by the subconscious that were mostly unexplainable but Dumbledore knew better. He knew that dreams were like windows in the mind, if one were open, one would just have to know where it was to enter. He was aware of what power dreams could hold and the thought of an enemy getting inside was something he couldn't allow.

But as the questions of the dreams were rising, so were his own questions of his actions, past and present. The truth was a funny thing that he thought he'd mastered but then something else would come along to test it. Sage was one of those things and he was failing. Since the day she was old enough he had questioned himself on whether he had made the right decision.

A tiny gasp sounded in the room and Dumbledore glanced up. The image in front of him startled him a little. Sage stood in the arched doorway in her white nightgown that clung to her body from the sweat seeping through each pore. The dark locks fell over her shoulders as her body shook faintly, covering a little of her face which was pale and wide-eyed. Sage's hands gripped at the sides of the archway as though trying to keep to balance and her breathing worsened with each passing second.

"What's wrong, my dear," he said instantly, getting to his feet.

"The face!" she stammered, her voice shaking. "The red eyes... they haunt me. It speaks evil things."

For the first time in a while, Sage met Dumbledore's eyes voluntarily, holding it without giving anything away and she inhaled sharply, appearing more frightened than she had a moment ago. "Who am I?"

The three small words made Dumbledore cross the room to her, reaching out to grip her shoulders. She didn't look away, not even when the distance between them was minimal and without realising it, the pressure on her shoulders increased. A look of worry etched in Dumbledore' aged face as stared at her.

"Tell me about the nightmare," he said gently.

But it was almost like Sage couldn't hear him. She looked away, directing her eyes to the floor as when she spoke again. "All evil things I see, I understand. And then there's the hissing. The hissing never stops."

Dumbledore's face turned grave as the mutterings seemed to lead to one thing that made complete sense. "Tell me about the nightmare," he asked, trying again in the same gentle tone.

"Who am I?" repeated Sage, eyes losing focus and glassing over.

Dumbledore sighed and bent down to her eye level, trying for contact again. "You are Sage Belrose."

"Lies!" Sage half shouted.

"I'm sorry," Dumbledore whispered softly.

The elderly wizard drew a wand from inside the grey robe he wore and gently tapped the middle of Sage's head. The young girl shivered as the sensation washed over her and her eyes closed involuntarily as it spread throughout her body. Once it was done, her body sagged and began to fall but before he could hit the floor, Dumbledore caught her with his wand and levitated her to the sofa. As soon as her head hit the pillow her eyes reopened and she stared at the ceiling, unable to stop the tears from escaping.

"Tell me who I really am," demanded Sage in a tired, raspy voice.

Using his wand again Dumbledore moved an armchair so it sat beside the sofa and he sat down, folding his hands into his lap. "No," he said quietly, with a sigh. "But I will consider it if you tell me about the dream."

Sage exhaled heavily as she rolled her eyes. It was just like all the other times she'd asked. She would give something and then her questions would go ignored.

"There's a dark room," she started. "And curtains and a cemetery that I feel like I've been to but haven't but it also feels important. And there's this man. He's pale and has no nose and has red snake eyes. It's always him and his snake. Who is he?"

Dumbledore glanced away and looked at the silent clock on the wall. It was just after three in the morning. He sighed again and his shoulders slumped a little.

"I don't know, my dear."

"You're lying," stated Sage as Dumbledore looked at her again. "You can't look at me when you lie."

"Sage..."

"Who am I?" she pressed, her voice rising. "You know who I am really am. Why are you hiding it?"

"You are Sage Belrose and that is the end of it," said Dumbledore firmly.

Dumbledore got to his feet and walked into the kitchen, reappearing seconds later with a small, clear bottle in hand. As he approached Sage he swivelled the contents around before uncorking it and offering it to her.

"It will help you sleep without any dreams," he said, answering the look on her face. "I think this is needed tonight."

Fresh tears stung the backs of her eyes but she took it without argument and sat up to gulp it down in one go. Dumbledore took the empty bottle and disappeared into the kitchen again. But he didn't reappear as quickly as last time, telling Sage that the conversation was over and that it was time for her to go back to bed. Feeling defeated she got up from the sofa and stumbled up the stairs to her room, this time closing the door all the way and locking it.