DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter, or any of the content referenced/quoted. Warning for swearing
...
The Nightmare
Em is standing in her father's apartment. It is dark, the only light in the room comes from the little that spills in through gaps in the blinds. There's a cold draft, and she shivers, wrapping her arms around herself.
The room is deserted and it throws her briefly. Isn't someone else supposed to be here?
She takes a step forward, the wood floor creaking underfoot. She traces a half-forgotten memory across the worn rug, around the dented coffee table covered in odd placemats Remus has been collecting, until she reaches her desk. There are a handful of pictures coated in a thick layer of dust. She lifts the first one, wiping away the dirt until she sees her face smiling back at her. A smiling Remus stands next to her, grin frozen in the muggle photo. Em smiles at the picture and sits at the desk, fingers tracing the happy faces.
A flash of movement in the corner of her eye draws her attention to the other photos on the desk. She picks up the moving picture, blowing off the dust. She freezes as the photo becomes clearer -
The Order stares back at her, with bright, smiling faces. A photo she's never seen before.
The frame slips out of her hands and onto the floor with a smash. The glass splinters right down the middle of the group picture.
Crack.
The sudden sound draws Em to the middle of the living room where a prone figure is huddled in the corner. James, covered in blood, hand vacant of his wand.
She's at his side in an instant, but before she can touch him, he dissolves into a fine mist and vanishes.
Smash.
She turns to see Sirius pressing James up against a wall behind her, fury burning in their eyes. Her bookshelf is suddenly in tatters, books raining down around the furious men. Em reaches for them but then they too vanish.
She rises to her feet as the flat slowly evaporates around her. A new room materialises around her; a broken wall, a devastated staircase, planks of splintered wood piled up high. Dirt and debris are scattered everywhere, the remains of a house, a loving home, reduced to rubble.
A woman screams, piercing her thoughts.
Then a thick silence follows. Em stands uncertainly on the threshold of the broken stairs.
"Hello?" She whispers.
"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches," a voice whispers from the darkness. "Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…"
The cold voice whispers to her from all directions, as a shiver wracks her spine.
"...and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives."
There's a faint sob. Em turns and stills.
"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies."
For there, half-buried in a pile of rubble, is herself. The other Em is covered in blood and pale; one hand clearly broken half-peeks out from underneath debris; her eyes glassy and unseeing.
She screams.