"Never break your promise, Tom."

"I won't."

The words seemed to take a physical form and encircle him. He could hear them ringing in his ears, the sound covering every inch of the room. He was in Hogwarts. Why was he in Hogwarts? Noise filled his mind. Someone was crying nearby, someone was screaming beside them, and they seemed to be getting closer.

Then they stopped. He could no longer move. He looked down and his skin was no longer pale as it used to be, but the color of a young boy's flesh. Suddenly, a silhouette formed in front of him.

"Why did you break your promise?" it cried, its voice accusing and raspy.

He had no idea what he had done, or what he should be doing. The silhouette was sobbing, the shrill cries echoing through the halls. Who was it? What kind of promise did he break? Why was the world fading before his eyes?

Lord Voldemort woke up in a cold sweat, breathing in rapid, shallow breaths as he arose to the midnight sky. He wiped the sweat from his forehead, looking around wildly in hopes that nobody saw him in his weakened state. The coast was clear. He took some deep breaths to slow his racing heart. The Dark Lord never dreamed, not since he had immortalized himself. Voldemort thought back to the dream. Though he tried not to let his past afflict him, he felt as if he had forgotten something that he had not meant to. Something important.