Natalie slept on her back, but slightly on her right side. Her hair was out of her ponytail and spread out around her, on the pillow, without being to unkempt.
She dreamt that her Uncle Isaac strolled, alone, across the dock, on the Hogwart's lake, below a dull, white sky. The chilling air crept up her arms, as she was suddenly there, in the dress she had worn on her first day. She suddenly realized, with her eyes on the back of his head, that he was dressed in that day's attire too.
She stood there on the middle of the dock and just watched him go further away. The wind picked up and blew her ponytail to the right. It rippled across Isaac's hair too, which Natalie thought needed to be tended too. She usually pushed it out of her mind, but there were old pictures, where it looked better, where everything about him looked better.
At the end of the dock, Isaac turned around and they both looked at the antique, iron handcuffs around his wrists and then locked eyes. He gave her a frozen (almost like he was a corpse), anguished expression, before he took one step back and Natalie felt like bendable, metal had been hooked around her heart and then used to yank it rip it out, downward.
Isaac dropped into the lake, without any change in expression and then sunk below, out of sight.
Natalie didn't go after him. She just, gradually, lowered herself to the ground and whimpered into her hands, which she then used to shield her eyes, at the same time the wind picked up again.
She slipped out of her nightmare, hyperventilating, now, fully on her right side, and laced her fingers together in prayer.
Harry and the girls had went right up to bed, after he and his friends went to the common room, while Ron said he would came later, as he parked himself on a couch, in front of the unlit fire place. Ginny had patted her brother's shoulder and gave him a We'll talk tomorrow. look.
Harry had pulled off his shoes and cloak and put his glasses on his night stand, but was too tired to keep going and just went to bed in the rest of his uniform.
In his dream, he was five years old, in oversized everything, like before he got his wonderfully fitted school uniform and the clothes he bought himself or was given by Mrs. Weasley later on, grungy light brown sneakers that had been white, when they were bought for Dudley, green shorts, and a gray, short sleeved shirt, under a plaid, green shirt. It was his birthday and sunny, not too hot though.
For some reason, Harry was running on the sidewalk. He darted his eyes around at any adult he saw, ready to ask the friendliest one for help, but he couldn't find one. They were sure to be like the Dursleys.
Eventually, he got past the adults and was alone on the streets. It was eerie to sixteen year old Harry, but five year old-Harry seemed to expect it, but was still dismayed by it, because he felt like an idiot for not remembering that no one would probably be there that day.
Harry found a book shop, with a glass window, that had ebony wood across it, to make little square sections of glass, he could look into, although sixteen year old Harry couldn't look in, from the angle he saw everything at. That's when a man's hand, the sleeve of his dark blue dress shirt, just visible, grabbed onto Harry's shoulder, who turned, very scared, to the man, who sixteen year old-Harry couldn't see, as if he was between him and his younger self.
Harry gasped , as he woke up, like his head had been dunked under water, until it felt like pressure was slammed into him, as result of not being able to breathe. The first thing he noticed was that he was crying and actually had to pressed his comforter on his mouth to muffle a whimper. The second thing he noticed was that he was tightly clutching his belt, as if to keep someone from ripping it off, and his stomachs was in knots. The third thing he noticed, as he put on his glasses to look around the room, like there had been a break in, was that this dream felt just like the ones he had had last year.