Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix
Chapter One: Dreams Withheld
Flames burned in Harry's mind yet again. A multitude of people stared at him in his sleep, from beyond their limit. He could feel them try to do something, he knew they were. Within their eyes was a flood of emotion, all focused on him, as if they were reflecting his heart.
He could see their mouths moving amid the scarlet and gold whipping around them, as if they were calling for his help. Harry reached out to them, but yet again, he knew he could do nothing. The person directly before him turned just enough so he could clearly glimpse the face.
And then the familiar green light blocked the sight, thought, message, or memory.
And the high cold cackle filled the night, effectively sending frigid shivers down Harry's spine. However, once the green light had dissipated, all that was left were smoldering ashes. Ashes and a scent... the scent of wild cinnamon.
With a body soaked from sweat, Harry sat up, expecting... expecting what? The scent? The cackle? The light? The ashes littered around his room? Any noises would have certainly awakened the Dursleys. They had just gone to sleep for their favorite show was on the telly. He, on the other hand, had been sleeping for what felt like hours. Then again, he was being haunted by dreams, and that was a possible excuse for not being able to sleep. Or maybe it was just because it had been the same dream. It had been repeated night after night for the past week. Harry had almost memorized the faces of everyone there. Especially the person in the front.
What was so familiar about that face? It rung bells in Harry's head so hard that the bell tower broke, but he still couldn't place it. Perhaps it was the eyes... or hair... or the look that encompassed the entire entity.
The look just wasn't contained in the person's features, somehow the feeling shone beyond.
Harry had no problem placing the laugh; it was definitely Voldemort's laugh. He had been confident of that conclusion. The Dark Lord had possibly killed them, torturing them with flames before the final Killing Curse, but allowed them to communicate.
That piece didn't quite fall into place in the puzzle in his mind.
He needed to get away from his problems. They were overbearing; breathing down his neck. Emerald eyes slowly turned to the small window. Heavy curtains draped the sides, but starlight could clearly be seen peeking through.
Getting a sudden inspiration fueled by dilemma, he lifted his bed to the hiding place underneath to get his Firebolt. Fingering the golden lettering, he remembered all it had done for him the past year.
A smile upon his face, Harry mounted the broom and flew off into the skies.
Unbeknownst to him, Arabella Figg, the Cat Lady, saw his midnight flight and after repeatedly rubbing her eyes and splashing water, she dialed the bobbies.
Mrs. Figg waited for an hour, watching her neighbor end his flight and return safely, while her cats became more and more restless. They refused to go outside and instead traversed the house. She picked up the phone again... and there was no signal.
Outside, a large black dog trotted off, remnants of a buried wire still conspiratorially sparking in the ground next to his muddy paws. Once the dog looked up to the sky to the flying boy, people could have sworn a smile had played upon the dog's lips.
Harry and the Dursleys were in for a huge surprise tomorrow.