Disclaimer: If I did, I'd've been able to do something fun for my sweet sixteen.
Chapter Eleven
Interpreting Among Other Things
"But who can decide what they dream?
And dream I do."
Taking Over Me- Evanescence
I stood alone in what looked to be the Forbidden Forest. The vast trees loomed easily over me. The moon hidden by clouds left me completely in the dark. I drew my wand, lighting it. The light barely illuminated the clearing I stood in. For some reason, I felt afraid, very afraid, and I had the sense I'm running from something. As if I'd remembered my mission, I began to stumble forward.
Eyes leered at me from every corner, and I heard someone calling my name. But I heard other things, whispers in the branches, in his voice. Still, I could hear someone desperately calling my name, beckoning me forward, while the monster chased after me.
What felt like hours later, I stumbled across a bed in another clearing. And suddenly I felt tired. I laid down on the bed, despite the warning not to. The fear left me, replaced by exhaustion.
When I woke up, I found my hands and feet bound to the bedposts. Frightened, I began to struggle. Then, I heard the monster's voice.
"Now, now, Katharina, keep struggling, and your little boyfriend here, gets it," he said. Scared, I looked to where he pointed, and saw George bound to a tree. He'd be forced to watch all that would happen.
"Let him go," I snarled, hatred filled me.
"Why would I do that?" And I could tell from his tone that the question is rhetorical. He got on to the bed, straddled me, and began to undress me.
I began to cry; I turned to George.
"I love you," I told him.
"I love you, too," he responded.
"Please," I begged him. "Please don't watch."
The monster finally had me undressed. Leering at me, he–
I woke up shaking, that's the fifth time I had that nightmare this week, and my dream before had been so pleasant. Why? I looked at my watch; it's only two in the morning. Still shaking, I lie back down, and fell into a dreamless sleep.
With the amount of sleep I had this week, it's no wonder I can't remember how I ended up in an abandoned seventh floor corridor, when ten minutes ago, I'd been eating lunch in the Great Hall. Not to mention, George is next to me.
"You look dead tired, Katharina," George said.
"I keep telling you, it's Kat," I mumbled, trying (and failing) to conceal a huge yawn. He ignored me, as he usually did, when I insisted he and his twin call me by my nickname. "I know I'm dead tired. I haven't had much sleep, thanks to a nightmare."
"What is your nightmare about?" George asked.
I shrugged. "Doesn't matter. Nightmares are quite normal for me, anyway."
"Nightmares are normal for you?" he asked, his tone disbelieving.
"I have mentioned my stepfather, right?" I asked.
"Oh, right. Sorry," he apologized.
"It's all right," I told him.
"What was your mum like?" he asked suddenly.
"Excuse me?" I asked defensively.
"Well, you always talk about your stepfather, who I've gathered is… evil, but you never talk about your mum. All I know is that your mother died when you were fourteen."
"Mum was born here in England, in Godric's Hollow, I believe. Anyway, she came to school here in nineteen-seventy-one, pretty much just as the war with You-Know-Who began. She was also a Gryffindor. When she was eighteen, Death Eaters killed her parents and two younger sisters. She was at a friend's house when it happened. Her sisters were fourteen and twelve. When she was seventeen, she found out about me. She told my father on his eighteenth birthday, and he left her. She left Britain when she got to London, and fled to where I grew up.
"Even though she was only eighteen, she was a good mother. My needs came before hers. She was fun, kind, loving, just the best. She took me to Muggle places, one of her friends was Muggle-born. She's gone too, died when I was little." I paused. "She always used to say to me, 'Kat, you're a brilliant and beautiful witch, don't let people hold you back.'"
"Sounds like your mother was a smart woman," George said.
"She was," I replied. I loved how she'd phrase that, intelligence first, then beauty. "She also used to tell me, 'never back down from a fight,' and 'you gotta stand up for what you believe in.' Also, 'you're not a normal teenage witch, Kat, but then again you're my daughter'," I added with a laugh, and a small, sad smile.
"You miss her," George stated, not questioned.
"Yeah," I said.
"Katharina, you're bleeding," he said.
"I know," I said nonchalantly.
"You knew?" he asked incredulously. I looked, blood ran down my wrist, and dripped off my left middle finger, creating a pool. Fucking bastard.
George gently lifted my arm, and pulled back my sleeve, revealing a cut that started at the heel of my hand, and ended at my elbow. A cursed cut. He looked at me wordlessly.
"It's cursed," I explained. "Karl has this ancient ornament, and whenever he touches it, this cut reopens."
"Haven't you told anyone?"
I shook my head. "Too many influential friends in the Canadian Ministry."
"But they can't ignore it," George said.
"They can," I said. "They'll just say it's self-inflicted, or someone else did it to try and throw him in jail."
"Tell Dumbledore," George replied instantly. "He'll make sure something's done."
I shook my head at that too. "No, I don't like too many people knowing."
"Katharina, something has to be done."
"Do you want to know what happened to the last person who tried to bring him to trial?" I asked George. He barely nodded. "It was my old Transfiguration teacher; he used to be my next door neighbour. He was kicked out of his house."
"All right, fine. But what about your arm?" he inquired.
"I don't have a choice, Madam Pomfrey will have to look at it," I said, thinking of healing it myself. George got to his feet.
"Well, come on, then."
I panicked. "What d'you mean?"
"I'm coming with you," he said simply.
"I know where the hospital wing is, George," I said, as he helped me to my feet. "Thanks."
"I'm just coming to make sure you get there," he said, with a smirk. Dammit, he knows what I'm thinking.
We set off in silence. Ten minutes later, we reached the hospital wing.
"Well, thanks for… escorting me to the hospital wing," I said, hoping he'd go away, but he shook his head.
"You're not getting rid of me that easily," he said. "I'm coming with you."
"Why?" I asked.
"'Cause you'll just run into the nearest washroom, when I'm out of sight," he said confidently.
"I'll be a good girl," I told him. "I'll go see Madam Pomfrey."
"I doubt that very much," he said.
"Am I that predictable?" I asked, angry with myself.
"No," he replied. I looked at him, he doesn't seem like he's lying, but I do think there's more to it than that 'no'. I decided now isn't a good time to press the subject, though.
He opened the door, and ushered me in. Madam Pomfrey looked at my arm, and forced me down on a bed. George sat next to me. Madam Pomfrey looked at me questioningly.
I sighed. "It's a cursed cut. I've had it since I was thirteen."
"And how old are you now?" the matron inquired.
"Sixteen, my birthday is in July," I answered.
"Is it an old family curse?" she asked.
"Not in my family, but yes, I believe so," I replied, starting to feel woozy and light-headed from the loss of blood. I also appeared very pale.
"And some sort of ancient artefact causes it to reopen, correct?"
"Yeah," I said faintly. Both Madam Pomfrey and George looked at me in alarm.
"How long has she been bleeding?" Madam Pomfrey demanded.
"Dunno, about fifteen minutes or so," George said.
"Fifteen minutes!" Madam Pomfrey nearly shrieked. She bustled towards her office. "Whatever you do, do not let her fall asleep."
I repositioned myself so I leaned against George, because I knew if I lay on the bed, I'd be sound asleep the second my eyes closed.
"You're a glutton for punishment, you know that, Katharina?" he whispered.
I shrugged my shoulders. "How come you won't call me 'Kat'?" I asked. "It's three syllables shorter than Katharina."
"Does it annoy you?" he asked.
"Greatly."
"That's why."
"What's wrong with calling me 'Kat'? Even the people who hate me called me 'Kat'."
"Would you like me to call you 'Kat'?" he asked, sounding faintly amused.
"It'd be nice," I said just as Madam Pomfrey returned with a goblet.
She handed it to me as George helped me back to a sitting position. I gulped it down. Madam Pomfrey waved her wand over my arm, and rubbed a yellowish-orange balm/potion over the cut. Tight bandages appeared on my arm.
"There, good as new," Madam Pomfrey proclaimed.
Figuring I could leave now, I did just that, with George following closely.
"Not so bad, was it?" he asked. "Your arm's perfectly healed."
I remained silent. Besides Iris, Vanessa, and Phil, no one cared what the hell happened to me. I was nothing more than a fly on the wall. I was treated like dirt. I was on the lowest rung of the social standing ladder; actually, I was below that. I was a nobody there. But here, all sorts came to Hogwarts; it's the biggest –and only– school in Britain. It's also one of the best. Plus, it's free. Midstars isn't even a boarding school, and the tuition is much more than it needs to be. Why, oh why, couldn't my mother have sent me here in the first place? And I finally had friends my age who cared whether or not I lived to see tomorrow. Friends who'd notice if I went off the deep end. Speaking of which…
"Thanks," I said quietly.
"For what?" he asked, puzzled.
"For saving my life," I said, my voice almost inaudible.
"Well, I wouldn't go–" he began, but I cut across him.
"Yes, you did," I said simply. "Karl will figure out time zones, sooner or later, and I'd've bled to death in my sleep." I paused, and he shivered at my words, and so did I. "By forcing me to see Madam Pomfrey, you saved my life, 'cause now, the curse is removed."
"He can't hurt you anymore, Kat," George said, talking just as quietly as me. I smiled slightly at the use of my nickname. "Not while you're here."
"But that's just thing," I told him with a rueful smile, turning to leave. "Until he is rotting in Azkaban, he can, and he will."
I left, leaving George to stare at my retreating figure.
Several sleepless nights later, I stood in the Divination section of the library. I do not hold much regard for Divination, but I figured I could use some insight by interpreting my nightmare, and figure out what my subconscious is trying to tell me. I pulled a very thick volume titled, Dream Oracle off the shelf. I opened it, and scanned the index for nightmare. What I found was:
We all have had nightmares at various parts in our lives. They are quite normal. But what is exactly a nightmare and why do we have them?
Nightmares are a subcategory of dreams. The distinction of a nightmare is its frightening and/or emotional content. You tend to wake up in fear in the midst of a nightmare. Because of its frightening nature, you tend to remember your nightmares and the vivid details. They have a bigger impact upon your waking mind and its images stay with you throughout the day. One reason for nightmares may be a way of our unconscious to get our attention about a situation or problem that you have been avoiding. It is time to take notice and confront a problem or situation. Nightmares serve an important purpose in showing you what is troubling you from within you deeper levels. Discussing, analyzing, and understanding your nightmares can lead to a solution for some problem, internal conflict or personal difficulty.
Well, that would've been extremely helpful, if I only hadn't already known that. Frustrated, I returned to the index, and looked up recurring dream. Turning to the page, I found:
Most dreams contain messages that serve to teach us something about ourselves. Unfortunately, many a times we forget what we dream about as we go about our daily routine. With recurring dreams, the message may be so important and/or powerful that it just will not go away. The frequent repetition of such dreams forces you to pay attention and confront the dream. The dream is trying desperately to tell you something. Such dreams are often nightmarish or frightening in their content, which also helps you to take notice and pay attention to them.
Recurring dreams are quite common and are often triggered by a certain life situation or a problem that keeps coming back again and again. These dreams may recur daily, once a week, or once a month, but whatever the frequency, there is little variation in the dream content itself. It usually points to a personal weakness, fear, or your inability to cope with something in your life - past or present.
The repetitive patterns in your dream can reveal some of the most valuable information on yourself. It may point to a conflict, situation or matter in your waking life that remains unresolved or unsettled. Or some urgent underlying message in your unconscious is demanding to be understood.
Following are some tips in overcoming your recurring dreams.
In understanding your recurring dream, you must be willing to accept some sort of change or undergo a transformation.
You must be willing to look within yourself and confront whatever you may find no matter how difficult it may be.
You must be able to look at the dream from an objective point of view. Try to get pass the emotional and reactive elements of the dream and get down to the symbolic images. Many times dreams are masked by elements that are disturbing preventing you to delve any deeper. This is a defence mechanism that your unconscious may be putting up.
Be patient. Do not get discourage if these dreams still recur even after you thought you have come to understand them.
Learn to accept yourself truly and fully.
Often times, once you discover what your recurring dream is trying to tell you, these dreams will change or altogether disappear.
Okay, slightly more useful information, but only slightly. I returned to the index one last time, and looked up what seemed to be the main point of my dream.
To dream that you have been raped, indicates vengeful feelings toward the opposite sex. You are feeling violated in some way or being taken advantage of. Something or someone is jeopardizing your self-esteem and emotional well-being. You feel that someone or something is being forced upon you. Dreams of rape are also common for those who were actually raped in their waking life.
"What're you looking at?" a voice I knew so well, questioned.
"Nothing," I said quickly, spinning to face him, and close the book in one swift motion.
"Nothing?" he repeated, manoeuvring to stand next to me, and regarded the title. "The Dream Oracle?" he asked sceptically. "I thought you aren't taking Divination."
"I'm not," I confirmed, hoping he wouldn't remember me saying I don't put much store in Divination.
"Or that you don't hold much regard for the subject," he said, flipping the book open to the last page I had open.
"Do you remember everything I've said?" I asked, trying to sound teasing. But he sounded very serious when he answered.
"Yes." I noticed why he sounded serious; he had been reading what I had been researching. "Is this what you dream about?" he asked looking concerned.
I shrugged indifferently. After keeping things to myself for five years, I don't exactly want to explain my fears. "Doesn't matter."
"'Doesn't matter?'" he repeated incredulously. "Kat," he said softly, "your stepfather can't hurt you here, can't touch you here. You're safe. The safest you've been."
"Yeah, until June," I pointed out. "Where will I go?"
"You can stay with us," he said immediately. I knew by 'us' he meant his family.
"But don't you have five other siblings?" I questioned.
"Well, yeah, but two live out of the country," he replied.
"Why do you care so much?" I asked. "I mean, I'm just an poor orphan English girl, who was brought up in another country and has had a tough life for the last five years."
"I don't think you're a poor orphan English girl who was brought up in another country, and has had a tough life for the last five years," he said seriously.
"No?" I said doubtfully.
"No," he said, his voice barely audible. "I think you are a beautiful English girl, who just happened to be brought up in a different country, has had horrible luck for five years, which has toughened you up, and you're finally where you belong."
I looked at him, and realised not only does he really believe what he had just said, but also he also probably loves me. Unexpectedly, I gave him a hug. I delighted in his arms securing a tight hold on me, my body tingled.
"Thank you," I whispered into his ear, resting my head on his shoulder for a moment. I heard a mewing, and George froze.
"Relax," I breathed. "It's Anya, not Mrs. Norris. Wait, what time is it?"
George released me so he could get a better look at his watch. "Shit. It's past curfew."
Ah, that's why Anya came to get me.
"How're we going to back to the Tower without Filch or Mrs. Norris finding us?" George asked.
"Anya," I replied immediately. "She can lead us back without running into anyone, ghosts included." I looked at my Kneazle. "Anya." She jumped on the table, and regarded me intelligently. "We need to get back to the Tower without anyone finding us, especially Snape, Filch, and Mrs. Norris."
She looked at me thoughtfully, before jumping off the table and disappearing into the darkness. We followed closely behind. She led us out of the library, and into the dark, quiet, empty corridors.
"Why do you think Madam Pince didn't kick us out?" I asked as loudly as I dared.
"I dunno, probably didn't think to look there, since hardly anyone takes Divination," George said.
We remained silent, with Anya leading the way, when Anya stopped. I signalled George to stop as well, and we hardly breathed. A few seconds later, we heard Filch walk by, talking to his cat. After Anya was sure Filch had gone, she continued forward. We trailed closely behind, and ten minutes later, found ourselves in front of the Fat Lady. George smiled, and I couldn't help it, I smiled too.
Author's Note: This chapter turned out longer than I thought it would. Hope you liked it. The dream interpretations I used come from a website called Dream Moods, I couldn't get the link to work, sorry.
