There was another boy. One not unlike Harry himself. The boy was always alone. The others feared him. He could make things happen- make people feel pain. But he, unlike Harry, did not feel remorse- the boy relished in it.
As the boy grew, he went on from the orphanage to a special school- one filled with whimsey and magic. But even this new world was full of hidden darkness. There was a war. A terrible war that broke everything. The boy grew up to lead that war. He lead the killings, the rapes, the tortures. Harry could feel all of them in his head- screaming, screaming to get out. The panic. The pain. The insanity. And finally the emptiness that always followed it.
Once there was a boy that was not unlike himself, who stared down into the green eyes of the child he would soon kill, and then everything was lost in a flash of green.
And Harry awoke from his dream in a cold sweat.
He would not sleep again that night- just like every night this happened.