Smoke, everywhere. The sounds of metal and anguished cries amongst booming explosions. My eyes began to concentrate on the scene before me. The castle loomed in the distance across from the viaduct I was standing on, my arms outstretched before me.

Insidious black flames swirled from my hands and body in monstrous waves against the shimmering film of the castle wards. It slowly, painfully began to flake away as little molten patches oozed through the intensely fortified magic before me, like bright blistering sores. I was screaming so harshly my throat burned and my eyes watered; there was an overpowering sense that I was too late for something. My body ached with the vicious and overpowering hatred that was building up from the overexertion of the Veela magic.

The magic itself however did not feel recognizable. Why it was so dark and wicked struck me as bizarre. My heart was shattering in my chest, my humanity slipping away into a blackened state.

When the barrier had melted enough I dropped to my knees gasping as dozens of witches and wizards, and an assortment of allied magical creatures, raced through the newly formed opening, completely ignoring my collapsed form. My eyes were blurred from the forced entry I had just provided, tears streaming down my cheeks. My body felt empty and hollow, like I would never be happy again, and I shook as I fought not to lose consciousness.

There was a horrible roar of combined shouting and spell casting ahead. A dark, menacing sound of war drums. My eyes lifted, only to see a gigantic wooden stake had been erected in the courtyard ahead. A huge fire had been lit at the base, and someone was strapped to it. Above in the sky, the massive skull of the dark lord hovered above the castle, twisting black clouds together to form the gruesome symbol.

I pushed myself to my knees and took off weakly towards the chaotic fight ahead, clutching my wand in my fingers with the last remaining strength I had left. Before I could reach the crowd of battling individuals the stake had fully ignited and Harry Potter had been burnt to death.

I stood frozen in horror watching the war continue to rage as though there were any hope left. A Death Eater approached me with his wand out. He had platinum blond hair and familiar light blue eyes. He didn't hesitate to cast a killing curse that hit me square in the chest and I felt a momentary blitz of painful, acidic ache in my bones before I spiraled away into a black hole of nothingness.

I opened my eyes panting in my room at the farm. I was propped upright on the bed and George Weasley was sat on a crooked wooden chair in the corner of the room. His blue eyes lifted up to my evident awareness as I shifted slightly and then cried out in torment.

"If I were you, I'd be staying as still as I could right about now," he said with a sly smile on his face. "Nightmares, was it?" he queried as he stood and tossed a wizarding newspaper onto the chair's surface.

I nodded, daring to lift an arm to touch the bandages that were all padded around my shoulders. My entire body was wrought with pain and I had a terrible spinning in my head that was prompting me to throw up. I made an effort to mentally summarize what had happened: I'd been at Hogwarts, Draco had been there, I'd been attacked by the hairy man.

"Awful things, werewolf scratches. My brother was attacked once - his face will never be the same. They don't heal quite so well, I'm sorry to say love." George was ranting as he sat on the bed beside me, "Don't worry though, you're still quite the looker."

"'arry? Ginny? Ron?" I asked nearly breathlessly. I wanted to also ask about Draco, but I knew he would sour at the inquiry.

George tilted his head sideways, "All fine, of course. Thought we'd lost you for good though. You can thank Luna later."

I slid my leg a few inches desperately towards the edge of the bed and whimpered from the horrible, slicing pain on my side above my ribs. My fingers gently drifted to the mass of medical padding there too. I pushed my leg fully off of the bed and gingerly put my toes down, cursing under my breath and squeezing my eyes shut. The headache and nausea was climaxing with my sudden attempts at mobility.

George raised an eyebrow and shook his head, his hands resting on my other leg to stop me from standing, "You have lost more blood than I knew was humanly possible, kiddo. Not too wise to be standing so soon." He pointed his piercing eyes up at me from an angle with a hint of seriousness I never saw on his features.

"Why are you 'ere?" I asked in confusion.

"Well, I'm a little offended. Just taking a turn watching you. Wouldn't want you dying in your sleep little one," he replied with a wink.

I ignored the flirtatious gesture, "'ow long 'ave I been out dis time?"

George's eyes rolled in a slow circle in his head as he counted imaginary days before him, "About four days, I'd say. On and off. You came to a few times, muttering about the war. Some very dark things might I add - you have one wicked imagination."

I swallowed hard, knowing it couldn't possibly all be my imagination. I was eager to get up and sort out what the supposed dreams had meant. The first time Draco had locked me in the dungeons I'd had a vision of Voldemort that matched his description exactly, and it had come to me before I had ever seen him. If even inklings of the visions were true than any number of details I'd just witnessed in my slumber could be an impending tragedy.

I reached out to him, "Please, 'elp me stand. I need to talk to 'arry."

He stood and shook his head, "Out of the question missy. Go back to sleep. Harry Potter isn't even here right now." He left the room and I could hear him chatting to Seamus outside of my door suddenly. I decided to accept defeat and carefully pulled my leg back into the bed, drifting off in immense pain once again.

The sun took the initiative to wake me at a blisteringly early hour as it always did at the farm. This time no one was watching guard over me and I didn't waste a second trying to once again push myself out of my bed. It took a solid ten minutes to maneuver around the horrific pain that characterized the gash in my side where the werewolf had ripped at me mercilessly. I was panting and wobbling once on my feet, but this would be the third time in less than a year that I had woken from a severe injury that left me unconscious for a period of time. I was for lack of a better term well-versed in suffering from near-fatal casualties.

The sun was hardly rising over the horizon and if Harry was home he wouldn't be for long, given how early we had left the last time. I wandered down the stairs in my nightgown, wondering who had changed me and hoping it had been Luna. I was clutching my side in desperate pain when I emerged on the final set of stairs to see that Harry and Ron were indeed in the living room below, watching the same map as before and whispering to each other on the couch.

The creaking of the stairs gave my approach away and they both swiveled in shock to take me in. I couldn't believe how fast Harry darted to the base of the stairs with his hands outstretched towards me, "You shouldn't be out of bed, Madeleine. What do you think you're doing?" His face was sprayed with uncharacteristic fear as I made it far enough down for him to loop his arm around my waist. I rolled my eyes. I'd made it that far without physical support.

Ron had stood but not left the side of the couch. His eyes looked away guiltily as though my demise had been his fault for not knowing how to magically heal. When Harry had sat me in one of the musty armchairs and dramatically wrapped a blanket around me, they both sat across from me with deepening concern.

"Ron, thank you for 'elping me," I said in a tiny voice, staring cowardly at his collar instead of his eyes.

Ron glanced away again, obviously just as uncomfortable as myself with any personal interactions. "Don't worry about it," he muttered in a low voice, his eyes glazing over as he looked at the sooty fireplace next to him.

Harry interrupted any chance of further communication, "Madeleine, what are you doing awake? You should be sleeping. You almost died."

I pressed my lips into a line and played with a stray fiber on the blanket he'd given me, "'arry, I had a vision of a battle. In which you were burned alive. In which we lost. I am deeply worried about dis." I felt my eyebrows pushing together with uncertainty that they would take me seriously.

They both looked sharply at one another and then back at me. Harry cleared his throat, "Where was this? Can you tell us where you saw this happen? Was Voldemort there?"

I gulped to clear my throat and exhaled, "Et was at dat castle." I pointed at the sprawled out map with the sketchy blueprints and moving footsteps. Someone named Severus Snape was wandering around in a room that read Headmaster's Office. I squinted at it briefly before continuing, "And I didn't see de dark lord, but de dark mark was in de sky above."

Harry inhaled rapidly and I could see the discomfort in his expression as he stared down at the map. Finally he spoke, "Have you had visions before, that have come true?"

I nodded, "Only, just partially. I've 'ad dis vision twice now, but dey were so different. De first time I 'ad blue flames in my 'ands, dis time my magic was black and empty. Et es like de future continues to change between each vision. So I cannot say if dis is de final version, or ef what we do next will change it again."

Ron's eyes were wide as saucers as he stared at the ground in horror and contemplation, "You're sure these bloody visions, as you call them, are trustworthy? Like these are real?"

I met his eyes for a moment that threw us both off and we looked away again, "I 'ave a very terrible feeling dat is de case."

It was silent save for the ebbing of wind making it's way into the cracks of the crooked building. We all thought for an excruciatingly long time.

"Madeleine, why don't you go talk to Luna today," Harry eventually suggested. He pushed his long dark hair away from his forehead, "She's been practicing Divination. And she saved you from the werewolf injuries - you two should catch up. Make sure to document these visions in thorough detail and we'll have a look at them tonight when we're back."

They both stood and I watched as they collected their things, wondering why Ginny wasn't with them this time. They waved bye to me and I settled in to accidentally nap on the armchair, now with some relief that I had passed on the information even if only in a preliminary form.

It must have been several hours later when I was woken up by Seamus prodding my arm with his pointed finger, "Oi, French girl, wake up. Your in my seat der lass."

I glared at him in outrage. No one owned any seats in the forsaken farmer's cottage.

"Can't you see she's badly injured?" Fred barked at him from where he was cooking food. They stared off for a moment before Finnigan plunked himself down onto an adjacent couch in irritation.

"Et es fine, I'm leaving," I grumbled, pushing myself to a stand. I heaved for a few moments, leaning on the arm of the chair, willing myself not to puke. Once I'd regained my composure I joined the half of the Order members that were present at the table to eat breakfast. I didn't bother helping with cooking given that I had bought all of the food anyways and was feeling so unwell. I spent the better portion of breakfast with my face in my hands, aghast at how exhausted I felt from the accident still.

After breakfast I was feeling better only slightly, but enough to wander over to the windmill where Luna usually slept. The first week of June was a dreamy, warm weather. Not too hot, but ripe with summer energy and fresh beginnings. The air was so sweet outside I breathed deep sighs of the peaceful breeze. The tulips had concluded their blooming and only stalks remained in the ward cast by Hermione, as though they were an usual hybrid grass characterized by thick blades.

Inside the windmill I was once again reminded of how lucky I was to sleep in the original building in a private room. Pansy was sitting lazily on a cot in the open ground floor space, reading some kind of text. Luna was back at her makeshift desk in the far corner, eyeing things down for the hundredth time as if she could possibly find anything new - it was the very definition of insanity.

I exchanged sneers with Pansy who silently went back to her book, thankfully neither of us seemed to be in the mood for a verbal argument. I drifted to Luna and sat across from her as I usually did when I was helping her.

She slowly lowered the magnifying glass with a warm, caring expression on her loopy face and I couldn't help but feel that she was growing on me. Her voice came out fairy-like as usual, "Oh, Madeleine, I'm so glad that you're not dead. I was afraid I had failed you. Hermione really was more the healer amongst us."

I ignored how odd her wording was, "I'm so thankful, Luna. You saved my life."

I raised an eyebrow at her as she took an awkwardly long time to respond, just smiled drunkenly at me. I decided to just carry the conversation, "I came today because I 'ave been 'aving visions, of what I think is de future. In my dreams."

Her eyes brightened in an atypical show of energy, "Madeleine, you are a Seer. You've finally grown fully into your powers - do you get sick from the visions anymore? I assume you wouldn't remember anything from Hogwarts about dream interpretation, but I can try to help you." She took my hand from where I had it placed on the table and I grimaced at the personal contact. My eyes slid to where Pansy was snorting at us, her head tilted up at an angle to watch us across the room.

"No dey don' make me sick," I stated dryly.

Luna exhaled a deep breath of concentration, "Good, so...dream interpretation, otherwise known as Oneiromancy. Let's start with the easy question - was this a nightmare or a prophecy?"

"'ow would I know de difference?" I puzzled.

She pet my hand, "Have you had the same dream twice?"

I frowned, "Yes, and no. Et es de same dream, but keeps changing details."

"Ah, then we have a micro-prophecy. These are less useful, like chapters in a book instead of just giving us the epilogue, or the true ending. These will change with every tiny adjustment to the outcome."

"Great," I whispered irritably, "So et es not dat useful. Just enough to upset me."

Luna shook her head argumentatively, "Oh no, not to be considered without value. These dreams have the novelty of updating you on your future as things change. Even though it's not a true prophecy, it's one that can be true. It gives you the opportunity to prevent the updated outcome." She smiled at me as she always did, failing to read the growing fear in my features.

I stared down at the table with a sense of being madly overwhelmed. I still hadn't learned to deal with the Veela flames, and now I had to add visions on top of it. There was a moment of striking fear that felt like lighting in my heart as I wondered if metamorphosis was the next horror to start showing up.

I stood abruptly from the table as tears sprang to my eyes. Pain shot through my nerves from the rapid movement as I left Luna without a word so that I could break down in private.