Gotc: Phew….College has officially consumed my entire being.

Ace: As opposed to spending all of your time on the computer?

Gotc: You only like it because I'm never home anymore!

Ace: Yes, the silence has been oh so nice!

Gotc: Jerk….Anyway, I finally found some time to finish this chapter for you all in between papers. Read carefully, there's a hint somewhere in here…..But I'll not tell you where, cause then you won't read, so SQUEAKY!!!

Squeaky: Squeak! (Still no ownage here, but feel free to take Ace.)

Ace: HEY!!

Gotc: Stop complaining and just be glad I still decide to feed you. BTW: There's some spoilers for "The Once and Future Thing". Now ON TO THE FIC!!

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Harry Potter and the League of the Phoenix

CHAPER 6: Whispering Nighmares

A thin light shone through a perpetual haze of dust and smoke. Stone walls and crumbling mortar glimmered dully in the flicking light, while hushed, urgent voices reverberated against them. An old wooden table occupied the majority of the space in the room, while every chair surrounding it was filled with arguing people.

"We should have never brought them into this! It's bad enough You-Know-Who is after us, but if they die, then so will the rest of their friends!" A wiry haired man argued from one end of the table

"The Justice League are peace-keepers," A red-headed witch snapped back, "They put their lives on the line everyday for complete strangers!"

"But those people they save aren't trying to kill them either! Dementors attacked Potter and them."

"They could have just been in the way; bystanders. They attacked Harry's cousin too," A man with a scraggly black beard and matching unkempt hair pointed out.

"Perhaps, if they hadn't attacked the same day they moved into the neighborhood," Another man with wispy grey hair said calmly, "We have to consider the possibility that Voldermort knows who we've involved in this. But at the same time, it could be nothing more than a coincidence, in which case we should jump at the opportunity. He's moving faster, striking where Harry should be the safest, that means he must be close to whatever he's looking for and wants the one threat he has to be out of the way."

"Then Harry's not safe with the muggles anymore," The bearded man sighed.

"Safe, just not quite as much as we were hoping him to be," A reasonable voice spoke from the table's head.

Everyone else fell silent, and turned towards the man they all deemed their leader. Both hands were folded in front of his half moon spectacles, while his eyes were staring at something far beyond the constricting walls of the room. Dumbledore rose slowly to his feet, unfolding his hands and planting them firmly on the table in front of him. He looked at each person sitting at the table, all waiting expectantly for what he had to say.

"We will need to move Potter here, preferably before his trial. Alastor, start looking at potential routes to get him here that will keep us out of sight and him out of danger," He said running through a mental check-list, "Sturgis, I'll need you to keep a close watch on the Department of Mysteries. We'll also need to keep an exceedingly close eye on our young Mr. Potter, but I think our new friends will take care of that."

"Albus," The Red-headed witch interrupted, "How much have you told them?"

"Enough for them to do what they need to without exposing them to the entire wizarding world at once."

"Which means next to nothing at all," A gnarled old wizard said, as an unnatural eye swiveled to look at the Headmaster, "It's been my experience that only knowing part of the truth can be more dangerous than knowing nothing at all. And if they are anywhere near as good as what the rest of the world thinks they are, they'll already know we're hiding more from them than what we've said."

"And it could be just as dangerous for them to know the whole story," The red-head argued back, "But how much can we really tell them? Fudge is already going to be positively livid when he finds out we've told muggles about all of this; I mean, we could all wind up in Azkaban."

"Their minds could always be wiped later Molly," The wispy haired man said, "And it's really not so much a matter of them being able to protect themselves-"

"So you're suggesting we just tell the Minister that we've asked the Justice League for help?!" She exclaimed, "We know You-Know-Who has his spies deeply rooted in the Ministry! If he would find out that the muggles do belong to the League, he'll start attacking muggles too just to draw them into this war!"

Dumbledore sighed, and carefully polished his glasses on the hems of his robes, before replacing them back on the bridge of his nose.

"We are playing in a great balancing act," He sighed, "Tip the scales a little, and it could be enough to even everything out. But push them too far the other way, and our world as we know it could come crashing down around us. We'll tell them as much as we can, but for now, anything else they'll need to discover for themselves. It's the best way to avoid more conflict with the Ministry and not incriminate ourselves at the same time. I just fear it will cost us in the long run…"

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Bruce had been having nightmares almost every night of his life since the night Joe Chill fired his gun at his parents. The only exceptions were the nights he worked through, or had to be put out due to some injury. He was familiar with the cold chill that surrounded him, and the darkness that squeezed out all else. But this was different. This wasn't a nightmare; it was hell.

The alley was the same as ever; cold, dirty and littered with trash and refuse. He'd walked it a thousand times on his nightly patrols as Gotham's fearless protector, and thousands more in his dreams as a frightened eight-year-old boy, but tonight it felt strange and alien. Unintelligible whispers drifted on a nonexistent breeze, surrounding and encompassing the Dark Knight. The familiar forms of his parents were no where in sight, nor was the menacing form of their killer. The black sky seemed to have taken on a blood red haze, and the bite of the December air ran straight through to his core. Screams split the night behind him, as the entire city was suddenly lit ablaze. Blazing flames towered high to lick the pallid stars above, while people went screaming by as thousands of moving shadows all descended upon them like packs of ravenous wolves. He could hear their screams drowned out by the sounds of the demons forced breathing ringing in his ears.

Suddenly, a small noise came from the alley, and Bruce whirled around to meet it. Diana stood before him, her eyes wide with fear as she looked at him. Confused, he tried to step forward, but she only stepped back, determined to keep the distance between them the same. His lips began to form the question, when the sound of glass crunching under his boot caught his attention. A shattered mirror cast a broken view of the world back up at him, as well as a spreading patch of dark red coming through his armor. Unbelieving, he touched the growing spot, only to find his fingers slick with blood. He looked back up at Diana to see her look at him with absolute terror, as she started backing further away from him. He couldn't seem to find his voice, so instead he reached out to her, begging in any way he could manage for her not to leave. But as he stretched out his hand, he could feel the warmth leave his body. His billowing cape seemed to come alive and wrapped him in its folds like a cloak, and the last thing he could hear was the sound of his own raspy breathing, sucking the night air into lungs that wanted something more….

Bruce jolted awake and sat straight up, a cold sweat pouring off of him in torrents. Wide-eyed, he scanned the darkened room, only to find the stacks of boxes, and dawn's first glow staring to form on the horizon. An unsteady sigh heaved from his lips, as he set his head in his hands and rubbed them through his sopping hair. A shiver ran through his body, and he nearly attacked the curtains, had the hot water bottle Diana had wedged under him not fallen to the floor with a wet flop.

Irritated with himself for being shaken so easily, he tossed the bottle onto a nearby box, and sat back on he couch. There were no other noises in the house, which meant Diana hadn't heard him, and for that he was grateful. Weird enough things were already happening; he didn't want to have to explain the nightmares too.

"You might sleep better if you could actually talk to someone about them." His inner voice reasoned.

"It's not her problem to deal with," The Bat argued back

"It's never anyone's problem only because you insist on pushing everyone as far away from you as possible." Came the scoffing reply

"It's safer for everyone this way."

"Yeah, that's noble, but who are you really protecting? Them? Or yourself?"

"I'm protecting Diana. Even if it would work between us, she's still an immortal and I'm not. Yes, maybe we'd be happy for a while, we could be in love, but one day I'd die and leave her and I'd still end up hurting her all the same. It's just better for everyone."

"You're hurting her now by pushing her away. You'll deny both of the life you could be having, and both be miserable? That's better? Besides, just how long do you think you really have with her? You remember Chronos."

Bruce felt his chest tighten at the very memory. It had been hard enough hearing Warhawk describe the events that had lead to her death, but it had been like a piece of his soul had been ripped from his heart when she vanished before his eyes.

"Besides," His inner voice continued, "She has feelings for you, just like you do for her, no matter how deep you try to bury them. But dying's inevitable, and you're going to hurt her, relationship or not. The only difference is by trying to make it work, you'd give her something to hold onto after you're gone. Otherwise, you'll just leave her broken hearted and she will hate you for it."

With a frustrated growl, Bruce shook his head and let his body take over his usual morning routine, while he let his mind fantasize about just what life might be like….

That's how Diana found him three hours later, pushing himself through his exercises, with his eyes glazed over and far off. At least until she walked into the room. His attention snapped to her, never one to be caught off guard, no matter how deep in thought he may have been.

"How long have you been up?" She asked leaning against the doorframe, as he grabbed a towel to mop the sweat from his forehead.

"A couple of hours," He said, "It's midnight in Gotham right now anyway. Why are you up so early?"

"Jet lag, I suppose," Diana said walking into the kitchen, "Even the Watchtower kept some sort of normalcy with the time changes. This just hurts."

"Having trouble getting you're beauty sleep Princess?" He snipped back, unable to keep the grin from forming on his face.

"You have no idea," She laughed back. God, that was a sound he could listen to for the rest of his life.

Bruce followed her into the kitchen where she was rummaging through several boxes, vainly trying to find enough utensils to make breakfast.

"Even if you did manage to find the skillet Princess," Bruce pointed out, "We were a little too busy to go grocery shopping."

"Alright then," She said leaning against the counter and folding her arms, "We're in an unfamiliar city, purposely cut off from the rest of the League, looking for a madman who has spectral apparitions of Death after a fifteen year-old and have nothing here for breakfast. What do you suggest?"

Just then, there was a sharp tapping on the window over the sink. Both instinctively moved to either side of the window, carefully keeping out of anyone's possible line of vision, before ripping the curtains open. A small tawny owl was perched on the ledge outside, with a scrap of paper held securely in it's beak. IT looked at the two humans inside with a thoroughly quizzical stare, as Bruce gently opened the latch and let the bird inside. However, it only dropped it's note into his hand and turned abruptly around and flew out of sight.

"What was that about?" Diana asked, glancing out the window to make sure no one had seen.

"It's an address," Bruce said reaching for his discarded cowl, "How about breakfast in London?"

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Gotc: A bit more fluff there, but we're getting into the meat of the fic now! Did anyone see the hint? Sorry for the chapter delay but writter's block can be a real-

Ace: Mind your ratings.

Gotc: Whatever, anyway remember to review and maybe next time I'll tell you where our favorite duo is headed to next! Laters!