Chapter Ten
Dreams Become Reality
As the holidays progressed, the snow continued to fall. Every morning they woke up to a beautiful white blanket covering the ground. At first it was exciting, playing in it, sitting in it, snogging in it…. But soon enough the excitement began to wear off and they grew weary of the constant cold. Through the majority of their remaining vacation they sat inside playing wizard chess and sipping hot beverages. They began to feel caged in and longed to stretch their legs. Especially Harry, who had enough of that sort of imprisonment at the Dursley's. Finally, on the eve before their return to Hogwarts, they decided to go out again one last time to play a little friendly Quidditch.
Harry shouldered his Firebolt and rushed downstairs, eager to take a breath of freedom. He knew he was exaggerating his confinement, but it brought back too many repressed and unpleasant memories. Soon he was hurrying out the back door of the burrow with Fred, George, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny.
"All right," said Fred, who had taken the position of leader, being the oldest ("By five minutes!" George had protested.). "We'll break into teams. There will be three on each: one Seeker, one Chaser, and one Keeper. I'm afraid there aren't enough people to worry about bludgers. George and I will play opposing Chasers."
"Well then, what position am I supposed to fill?" Ginny asked angrily. She prided herself in her Chasing skills, as she had told Harry before.
"Seeker! What else?" Fred asked curiously, as though it was obvious. "You're the only one who stands a chance against Harry!"
Ginny looked shocked for a moment, but then she gave Harry a satisfied smirk. "You hear that, Harry? You've got competition!"
Harry just smiled and said, "I have no doubt about that. You are a pretty good flier."
He laughed at her confused expression. Clearly she was expecting a contradicting comment. He gave her a soft kiss on the cheek before mounting his broom. On Fred's command, he kicked off, his feet sinking into the soft snow. He raised into the air, though not higher than the tree line, lest they be spotted by the local Muggles. He could see his breath in the cold shivered slightly against the frosty air.
He was teamed up with George and Hermione. Although he was confident that George would do well as Chaser, having seen him fly for years and help other chasers practice. But Hermione was not a Quidditch player. Nor was she a flyer of any sort. She would try her best, but Harry knew she stood no chance against Fred's quick advance. He began to scan the trees for the snitch.
Ten minutes later and losing zero to six, he spotted it. To his horror he realized the snitch was circling around Ginny's dangling left leg as she sat in the air looking for it. Normally he would have leaned forward and shot for it, but knowing Ginny, he didn't have a chance. She would spot it soon. He had to do something. Keeping his eye on the snitch, he floated lazily over to Ginny.
"What are you doing?" she asked sharply as Harry pulled slowly up next to her.
"Hmm…" he said, wearing a pretend frown. "Love you too."
Ginny laughed and Harry grinned at her. "This seems like a very familiar conversation," she said. "But seriously, what are you doing?" She began to eye him suspiciously as he continued to grin.
"Oh, nothing. It was just getting a bit boring over there. But I daresay, that won't last for long."
He nodded his head toward something behind her and she turned her back on him to see what it was that he was looking at. Taking his chance, he plummeted downward. The snitch had moved down toward the ground and was fluttering just above the snow. He reached out his hand and snatched it out of the air, smiling triumphantly.
And that was how the rest of the day progressed. They played many different matches, often varying the rules to make it more interesting. They also rotated players, allowing Ginny and Hermione to Chase for a while. But soon the girls grew weary and decided to call it a day in the early afternoon. They boys, however, continued to play until they were completely soaked from the snowfall and were so stiff that they could no longer properly function. The sun was beginning to set as they shouldered their broomsticks and headed back toward the Burrow. They reached the back step and realized that with their dripping robes, Mrs. Weasley would never let him inside. Hastily, they began to dry themselves by hot steam issuing from their wands. They could do nothing for their shoes and lower legs, however, as they were enveloped in about a foot of snow. They began to file inside when suddenly Harry's scar exploded with pain and again he found that his eyes were observing a scene that was completely out of place from the world that was previously around him.
He was standing on a dark, dimly lit street. He could see someone running ahead of him, their footsteps clattering on the cobblestones. However, the figure stopped at the sound of a cold voice issuing from Harry's mouth.
"Where are you going, Mr. Prang?" Harry said, walking slowly toward the motionless figure. Subconsciously, Harry recognized that name, "Prang". Where had he heard it before? But the same cold voice continued to speak through his mouth, interrupting his thoughts. "I believe we had an arrangement, did we not?"
The figure shuddered. In the darkness Harry could not see his face, but he could tell that the person was frightened beyond their wits.
"However, you did not keep your end of the bargain. That was not a very wise thin to do, Mr. Prang."
Harry felt his right arm raise, and felt the slick wood in his hand. No! He thought with all his might. Please, I don't want to watch another person die!
However, his hand seemed to spite him as it raised the wand and pointed it directly at Mr. Prang's heart. Harry could do absolutely nothing to stop the horrible words escaping his mouth.
"Avada Kedavra!"
A flash of green light pierced the dim street as the spell illuminated the figure's face just before the man crumpled to the ground, forever motionless. A high pitched cackle rang through the night, and then Harry shouted, "Morsmordre!" A sickly green skull shot into the sky, an ugly and slimy snake protruding from it's mouth, allowing all to see exactly where a man lay dead in the street.
And then, as suddenly as it had come, the scene before his eyes was gone, and he found himself laying face up in the snow outside the Burrow, gasping for breath and clutching his burning scar.
"Harry, mate, are you alright?" Ron asked, bending over him and looking paler than the snow below his feet.
Harry bit the inside of his cheek and nodded, his scar still searing. He was shaking uncontrollably, and he doubted that it was from the cold. He took Ron's proffered hand and got to his feet. He jumped when Fred spoke, forgetting that the twins were still there.
"That was most definitely not just a dream."
Harry looked at him fearfully, really not wanting to Fred about what he had just witnessed. He tried not to think of it as what he had just done.
"Er, I… I must have had too much of the cold. M-maybe we should go inside?" Harry said, almost pleadingly as he let out an accidental shudder.
Fred looked as if he was about to press more, but George shook his head. Harry though George might be just as curious, if not worried, about Harry's episode, but he decided to give Harry a break, for which Harry was extremely grateful.
The twins walked inside first, tactfully putting on excited faces and began to talk about the game as they saw Mrs. Weasley. Ron grabbed Harry's arm and guided him into the house, which Harry was also grateful for, since his scar was throbbing and making his vision blur slightly. They smiled wearily to Mrs. Weasley, and Harry assumed she thought they were tired from the game. They walked upstairs silently until they reached the top landing where Ron's room was perched.
"Hermione, what are you doing outside my room?" Ron demanded curiously, a little louder than Harry would have preferred. His head still hurt and he felt sensitive to loud noises.
Hermione looked up with wide, fearful eyes. "Oh, were you talking to me?
"Who else has the name 'Hermione'?" Ron replied exasperatedly. Harry winced at the noise.
"Oh, I was just… er… waiting for you!" she said suddenly. Harry gabbed his head, feeling sure it was about to fall off. Hermione must have noticed this, because she asked, "Are you all right, Harry?" She took a step closer to him. "You're all wet. Wait a minute, why are you wet? I watched all of you dry yourselves off from the window."
Harry didn't say anything, just stood clutching his head. He had no idea why the pain hadn't faded by now, as it usually did, but it was starting to make him feel sick. He vaguely wondered why Hermione had been watching them from the window as he winced again.
"He sort of… collapsed. And he fell into the snow. I think he had another, er, vision," said Ron, thankfully much quieter than he had been speaking before. He looked at Harry with worry etched in his face. "Come on, mate. Let's get you into my room so you can sit down."
They started toward the door, but Hermione blocked their way. "Erm… why don't we go down and get some tea first? That way you can warm up, and then we can come back up here and talk about it. How's that?"
Ron gave Hermione an exasperated look, and Harry shook his head slowly.
"No, I need to sit down. My head hurts."
Hermione looked like she was about to protest, but then she looked at Harry's pained face and moved aside. They walked into the room and Harry sat down with a sigh on his camp bed. He wanted to lay down and go to sleep, but he knew that he would dream about what he had just witnessed, and he found that to be less appealing then staying awake.
"Er, mate? Do… do you mind telling us what you saw?" Ron asked hesitantly while he and Hermione sat on Ron's bed.
Harry tried to remember all of it, and quickly told them all the details.
"…And then he hit the man, Mr. Prang, with Avada Kedavra, and I saw his face."
Hermione waited for him to continue, but when he didn't, she pressed. "And who was it?"
Harry looked down, saddened as the picture of the man's vacant eyes invaded his thoughts. "It was Ern. Ernie Prang, the Knight Bus driver."
Ron and Hermione looked startled beyond belief.
"Are… are you sure?" Hermione asked. She had taken the Knight Bus many times and had gotten to know Ernie fairly well.
Harry nodded, then regretted it instantly as his head continued to throb.
"But… why would Voldemort want to show you that?" Ron asked. "I mean, you're acquainted with Ernie, but it's not like you're particularly close to him."
Harry shook his head, completely bewildered. "All I know is that I'm sick of watching people die."
Hermione looked extremely saddened by this comment. Harry saw tears sparkle in her eyes as she went over to give him a hug. Even Ron came over and patted him on the back. Harry did not respond and he kept his face neutral, but he kept thinking how lucky he was to have Ron and Hermione as his best friends.
"Don't worry, mate. We'll get through this."
"Yes, Harry," Hermione said reassuringly. "We'll… we'll practice Occlumency some more. And we'll figure out why Voldemort keeps showing you these scenes-" She suddenly stopped and both Ron and Harry looked at her curiously. She looked back at them. "Never mind, I think I know why."
"Why?" Harry and Ron asked together.
"I… I think Voldemort is showing you people dying, Harry, to weaken you and make you want revenge," she said.
"Well, it's working," Harry said through clenched teeth as he felt another sharp pain in his scar.
"No, you can't let that vengeance catch up with you! He's trying to make you attack before you are ready!"
Harry suddenly felt angry as he turned to Hermione. "Are you saying that after all I've done, that I can't handle him?"
"No!" said Hermione, looking appalled. "You know I'd never say that. I'm just trying to tell you that now, more than ever, we need to put emphasis on finding and destroying those Horcruxes!" Suddenly, Hermione clapped her hand over her mouth, wide-eyed. "I mean, erm, maybe we should go somewhere else to talk about this."
"Hermione, what is wrong with you!" Harry shouted, ignoring his head's protests. "Why are you so hesitant to talk in here! This is the best place! We're on the top floor and no one's around!"
"Well, they just might hear us with you shouting like that," Hermione snapped.
"I'm trying to knock some sense into you!" Harry bellowed. "We need to discuss this now before another-"
Suddenly Harry's scar exploded with pain again and he fell to his knees while another scene unfolded before his eyes, though it did not completely cover his mind like the last one had.
He was standing in a forest. At his feet a man was whimpering, pleading for his life. Harry laughed cruelly.
"You have served my purpose, Jenovan. I show no mercy to anyone. Not even you. Avada Kedavra!"
The man at his feet was thrown backwards by a jet of green light and then lay still on the forest floor. Harry involuntarily muttered a quick incantation and the Dark Mark quickly shot into the air.
Harry's eyes came back to focus, and he found himself still on his knees in Ron's room, his hand on his forehead as he gasped for breath. Ron Hermione knelt on the floor next to him, pale and worried.
"Harry mate, did it happen again?" Ron asked.
Harry swallowed heavily and nodded very slightly. His scar was throbbing with a renewed fervor, so Harry pushed on it with both hands, trying to stop the pain. He was covered in sweat and was shaking again. Hermione gently pulled his hands away and felt his forehead.
"Oh Harry, you are really warm," she stated in a motherly fashion, pulling her hand away. "And your robes are still soaked. Why don't you get changed and try to get some sleep."
He nodded again and Ron helped him to his feet. Hermione left the room and Harry changed into his pajamas before falling into bed. But it didn't matter how exhausted he was. He kept tossing and turning, trying to get the horrible visions out of his head. Finally, after about two hours of this, he finally felt sleep creep up on him and he gratefully welcomed it.
There was light coming from a doorway up ahead. Harry moved toward it and opened the door. Inside was a woman, perhaps in her late sixties. She was reading a book and sitting in a rocking chair, her long gray hair falling past her shoulders. Harry stepped into the room. The woman looked up, smiling at first. But upon seeing Harry a look of terror came over her and she leapt out of the chair, screaming for help. But she could do nothing as Harry said the fateful words yet again.
"Avada Kedavra!"
Harry jerked awake, his eyes seeing nothing but blackness in the dark room. He groaned and realized that his scar was still stabbing pain into his forehead. He did not reach up and touch it, because he knew it would do nothing to stop the aching, which he now felt throughout his entire body. He found himself shaking again, and couldn't seem to relax at all. So he decided to simply stare up at the ceiling, realizing he would never go back to sleep now. One thing was for sure, he was in for a rough night.
"Harry, you look wretched"
"Thanks, Hermione," Harry mumbled as he blearily walked into the Weasleys' kitchen. He had gotten no more than an hour's sleep last night, because every time he closed his eyes he saw another scene of someone dying and his scar never stopped burning.
"Did you get any sleep last night?" Ron asked quietly as Harry took a single piece of toast from the table and sat down next to Ginny.
"No," Harry replied miserably. "I was really tired, but those dreams just kept coming."
Ginny took his hand and squeezed it gently. Harry thought she might have asked what he was talking about, but he guessed that Hermione had told her about what had happened to him last night. He was glad she had, because he didn't feel like explaining it at the moment. Luckily Fred and George had left according to plan last night so they would not push him further.
"Well, unfortunately I see that dreams have become reality. Look at this, Harry."
Hermione spread out her copy of The Daily Prophet on the table and Harry bent over to read.
More Deaths In Our MidstLast night it is believed that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named himself went amongst various wizarding communities and murdered many by his own wand. Among these victims were David Jenovan, a Ministry official, Kennylworthy Whisp, the famous writer, and Ernie Prang, the well-known Knight Bus driver. We believe that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has a motive and specific plan behind these attacks, but the exact reason is still unknown. For Obituaries, see A3.
Harry finished reading and sat up, feeling a horrible emptiness inside of him.
"It's my fault," he whispered. "He's killing them to get to me."
"No, Harry, this is not your fault!" Hermione protested. "You had nothing to do with it!"
"Yes I did," he said, dropping his uneaten piece of toast and putting his head in his hand that wasn't holding Ginny's. "If it wasn't for me, all of these people would be alive. I've brought this on everyone."
Hermione, Ron, and Ginny all made an attempt to comfort him, but just then Mrs. Weasley walked into the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron.
"Just said good-bye to Arthur. Oh, good morning, Harry dear. You weren't at dinner last night. I hope you slept well."
Harry thought it might be rude to say, "No, I had a horrible night's sleep," to the matron of the household, and therefore settled on smiling politely. Mrs. Weasley wasn't fooled.
"Hmm, doesn't look like it. Perhaps some Pepper-up potion?" She flicked her wand and a goblet appeared in her hand. Harry took the goblet and was about to bring it to his mouth when yet again, his scar burned hot and the scene before his eyes changed. He tried with all his might to block it out of his mind, but he couldn't. For perhaps the fifteenth time in twenty-four hours, the curse spilled out of his mouth.
"Avada Kedavra!"
And then he was back in the kitchen again. When his eyes focused he noticed that everyone was staring at him. The Pepper-up potion was spilled on the floor he was holding Ginny's hand so tightly that her knuckles were turning white. He quickly let go of her hand and flicked his wand to clean up the mess, biting his lip against the pain in his scar.
"Harry dear, are you alright?" Mrs. Weasley asked, her voice full of concern. "You just dropped the goblet. And you look awfully pale."
"I…" he stopped as he felt a stab of pain again. "I'm just tired, is all." He changed the subject. "Er… when are we going to King's Cross?" he asked.
"In a few minutes," said Mrs. Weasley. She turned to look at Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, who were the only people left in the room, as everyone else had left for work or to their separate homes. "All of you have your things packed, I assume." They all nodded. "Well, you'd best get your trunks downstairs."
The four of them walked up the stairs together. Ginny grabbed Harry's hand again.
"It happened again, didn't it? Right there at the table. Another vision."
Harry looked at his feet and nodded. He had to focus to keep his feet moving, lest he collapse from all the aches his body felt.
"W-who was it this time?" Ron asked hesitantly.
Harry sighed. "Austin Thelman."
Ron tripped over a stair and fell to the ground.
"You mean that… that prat that failed the Apparition Test?" he said as Hermione helped him to his feet.
Harry nodded solemnly. They stood in silence for a moment, all feeling absolutely horrible, but no one more than Harry. Finally deciding he couldn't take the silence anymore, he let go of Ginny's hand and walked the rest of the way up to Ron's room to get his trunk, all the while wincing at the incredible pain in his scar.