Albus was lead blindly down the halls of the castle, sharp turns and quick bounds down the stairs were the only things to alert him to the fact that he was moving at all. He seemed to be maneuvering as dully as he had in the very first dream he had.

No, nightmare. What he was experiencing were certainly nightmares.

McGonagall finally reached her office, tugging Albus up the stairs with a bony hand wrapped around his thin wrist. Albus tripped and almost slammed his face into the concrete, if not for the momentum of his fall pushing McGonagall into action and levitating him before that could happen, righting him, and continuing on their journey up the stairs.

McGonagall whispered the password hurriedly, and the two stepped inside. Albus didn't have time to think before he witnessed the Headmistress submerge her head in open flames.

Before Albus could think to scream, the fire was turning green, and suddenly McGonagall was shouting into it.

"Harry! Ginerva! Wake up! This is urgent! Please, wake up! Oh! I'm terribly sorry, Lily, but would you be so kind as to alert your father that-Oh! Harry! Please Floo here as quickly as possible, there's an urgent matter concerning your son. Yes, Albus. Thank you, Harry, I'll be seeing you shortly."

McGonagall stepped away from the flames and stood up. Albus pretended not to hear the rattling sound her spine seemed to make as it straightened itself out. It was the least he could do for waking her up in the middle of the night to save her some dignity.

Moments later, Harry appeared in the fire, still in his pajamas and familiar bedhead that Albus missed dearly. "What's the urgent matter, Professor?" he asked, his voice breathless and rushed.

McGonagall turned to Albus. "I'm sure your son would love to explain the troubles of his thoughts that have been plaguing him lately. I was awoken a few minutes ago by Rose Weasley, saying that Albus was suffering from another nightmare. Naturally, I was confused. What did she mean by another? I returned with her to the Ravenclaw dormitories, where I saw a distressed and exhausted Scorpius attempting to wake a screaming and crying Albus up."

After hearing the explanation, Harry turned ashen. He turned to his son, and Albus felt too much weight in the gaze his father held. "What's going on, Al?"

Albus knew he couldn't hide anything. He couldn't even make it out as if this were the only nightmare, because Rose had already given it away to McGonagall that it was another one. An irrational part of Albus' brain through scorn at his cousin for doing that, but inside he knew she was not at fault. This was something he needed to discuss with his father anyway. Albus made his way to one of the chairs at McGonagall's desk, and the two adults followed suit, Harry sitting next to Albus and McGonagall sitting in her chair on the other side.

"Lately, I've been having these nightmares," Albus started, and he told them everything. What the first one felt like, how scared he was that there was something wrong with him, his fear that the Dark Lord was returning somehow and implanting thoughts and dreams in his mind, like he had done years before to Harry. His fears that Rose and Scorpius would only be dragged into his mess, and that he couldn't do anything to stop the dreams or help himself.

Throughout, there were various stages of emotions flittering across Albus' father's face. He saw, shock, confusion, worry, but most importantly to Albus, anger. Albus' understanding was that, if his father was, at anytime, angry for any reason, he should steer clear. As an adult, Harry had developed the keen sense of controlling his emotions. If Harry was angry, then it did not bode well for Albus.

"So," Harry began when Albus finished his explanation of the night's events, "you're saying you've been having these horrid nightmares for weeks and you haven't told anyone?"

"I told Rose and Scorpius," was Albus' quick reply.

Harry's nostrils flared. "Because Scorpius was the one who work you up every time!"

McGonagall decided then was the moment she should intervene, and she said, "I do not think we should place Albus on trial, Mr. Potter. He clearly has been through some traumatic events. Let us simply find a solution to this matter."

Harry grumbled, but otherwise stayed quiet, for which Albus was grateful.

"What do you propose as a solution, Mr. Potter?" asked McGonagall after a few moments spent for everyone to collect themselves. "How should we proceed?"

Albus didn't have time to interject, to say that, since it was his brain making up all the trouble, he should bear the consequences and think up a solution on his own. Harry spoke quickly, with such a certainty that stunned Albus. "I believe Albus should start taking a Dreamless Sleep Draught to help quell his nightmares."

McGonagall pursed her lips in thought. "A valid idea. Albus, thoughts?"

Albus jerked out of his mental state, surprised to be included. "Headmistress?" he asked in clarification.

"Do you believe the Dreamless Sleep Draught is a good idea?" McGonagall repeated, staring Albus down with a look that could almost be construed as amused, if Albus hadn't known better.

"Uh," Albus stuttered, "I get to choose?"

Harry looked at his son with a grim expression. "These are your nightmares. We're certain they can't have come from Voldemort, so they're clearly not the same as mine. I believe you, unlike me, should gave some influence in the decision being made about your own mental well-being. If you do not want to take a Dreamless Sleep Draught every night to ease your nightmares, then you can say so. You are as much a part of this decision as Professor McGonagall and I."

Albus could only nod. "In that case," he declared triumphantly, grateful to have a say, "I want to take the potion. I'm sick of these nightmares, they're like pests that won't leave my mind. I need peace."

Harry nodded. "Very well," McGonagall said, "we shall visit Madame Pomfrey right now. I've already sent her an owl, as I wished to take you to get examined by her anyhow, regardless of how this conversation went, but the Dreamless Sleep Draught will do."

McGonagall then left her office, likely to give Harry and Albus some time to spend together. Albus looked at his father, fear clearly etched onto his face, and Harry cupped his son's face in his hands.

"Al," he said warmly, "why are you afraid?"

"I dunno," Albus responded lamely. He shrugged for extra effect.

Harry could only laugh at his son's antics. "You know, you remind me a lot more of myself than I thought you would. You are exactly what I imagine myself being had I not been the Boy Who Lived." He said the last part mockingly, always poking fun at the dramatic title the wizard world had given him.

"You're going to be fine, Al," Harry said, his tone so severely serious that Albus had to pause and soak it in. "You hear me? Absolutely fine."

Albus nodded. "I know, dad. I know."

The two stood up, and Harry pulled Albus in for a fierce hug, one that nearly crushed the life out of Albus, if he had not been basking in the relief and happiness he felt in that moment. A hug from his father was like an angel giving him Her blessing. Albus knew that, if his father kept hugging him this way, then everything would be just fine.

McGonagall stepped back in. "If you two are finished, I'd like to take you to the Hospital Wing now, Mr. Potter."

Harry released Albus and patted his shoulder in camaraderie. Albus left to follow McGonagall out of her office while Harry stepped into the green flames, shouting for home.

The walk to the Hospital Wing was awkwardly quiet, just as it had been on the way to McGonagall's office. Albus couldn't imagine attempting small talk after the conversation that just took place in her office.

When they reached the Hospital Wing, McGonagall paused as her hand reached for the door handle. "It's a fickle thing," she said quietly, so Albus had to strain to hear her, "being in control of your mind. Such a waste, that we take for granted that beautiful opportunity. I envy those who appreciate their minds at each moment of the day."

She then turned to face Albus, who was standing next to her in confusion. "We will get your mind sorted out, Mr. Potter, so that one day, you will appreciate being in control of it."

"Yes, Headmistress," Albus mumbled.

McGonagall nodded curtly, then flung the Hospital Wing's doors open, strutting to the back of the building where Madame Pomfrey already stood, a bag sitting on the table next to her. Madame Pomfrey was wringing her hands together in a nervous gesture, and Albus mentally braced himself.

"Headmistress," Madame Pomfrey said sullenly, "I only had enough Dreamless Sleep on hand to produce enough vials for the rest of the month. I'll concoct more, and young Mr. Potter here will have to come in once a month to receive his vials. If that suits you, Mr. Potter?"

"That suits me fine, Madame Pomfrey, thank you," Albus said, trying to remain polite as his nerves dialed upwards.

After Albus took the bag from Madame Pomfrey, he and McGonagall left the Hospital Wing, and she escorted him back to the Ravenclaw dormitories.

"I hope the res of your night is not filled with nightmares, Mr. Potter," McGonagall remarked almost dryly.

Nevertheless, Albus responded with a cheery, "thank you, Headmistress!" But when Albus turned to look at her, he found she was already walking away.

Lmao...surprise.

I guess I'm back or whatever, so I believe this means an apology is an order. Perhaps. Anyways, I apologize for disappearing for over two years. I don't even know if Harry Potter fanfiction is even still popular, but I'm still reading it, so I'm going to continue writing it.

To make a long story short, I'm going to be updating regularly now, and I hope people still want to read this terrible story.

-Clary