"Sit down," Dumbledore said, and Harry sat down in a big maroon armchair, and Dumbledore sat at his desk. "Harry, I'll be blunt. With the reconstruction of Lord Voldemort, you need to be very careful this year."
"Yes, sir," Harry said, somewhat puzzled. Did he just call me up here to tell me that I need to be careful? Harry thought. Of course I'm going to be cautious, I'm his number one target!
Dumbledore smiled slightly, sensing his thoughts. "Yes, well then, you'll understand that you need protection everywhere you go. Hopefully, you won't be angry as me. I'm going to have to ask that you be with a professor at all times when walking through the halls, as an added precaution. Also, please don't go out at night for any reason what so ever. If you feel that you have to, please come and get me or Professor McGonagall."
Harry gaped at the old wizard. Having a professor with him--everywhere?! There went all of his freedom in a simple sentence...
"And here is the Marauder's Map. You do realize that I only want you to use it for your own safety and nothing more. And please don't give it to anyone else, including all professors." Dumbledore reached his hand out and gave him the old, charred parchment. Harry glanced at it before safely tucking it into his robes. Dumbledore settled back for a moment, giving him the piercing stare he knew all too well.
"Yes, sir. Thank you." Harry said, still not over the initial shock of being guarded twenty four seven.
Dumbledore, however, leaned forward slightly in his desk and said seriously, "Harry, last year's events were a terrible thing to happen to anyone, let alone a fourteen year old boy. I realize that things might not be going well for you because of it. But I ask you if there's anything you'd like to share with me."
"You mean like with dreams and Voldemort? I haven't had any lately."
Dumbledore smiled. "Not with Lord Voldemort, with you. How are you coping?"
Harry didn't know what to say. His instincts told him to keep it to himself and not to worry anyone else with his silly guilt trips. But after all, this was Dumbledore. Dumbledore wouldn't laugh at him or scold him for being paranoid. He had a silent argument with himself for a minute before looking back up at Dumbledore. "I'm doing okay, Professor."
Dumbledore studied him for a moment and then said, "Very well."
He stood up, as did Harry.
"I'll walk you to your common room."
And they set off, footsteps echoing in the darkened hallways, not speaking. Harry wasn't keen to get back up and go to bed...his nightmares were still coming strong. During the summer in Privet Drive, a couple of times he'd woken up screaming. Luckily, that didn't happen while he was staying with Ms. Figg and Sirius...but you never know what could happen. All too soon, in Harry's opinion, did they reach the portrait of the Fat Lady. Harry looked at Dumbledore for the password, since he hadn't had a chance to get it from one of the Prefects.
"Golden Snitch," Dumbledore supplied, and the Fat Lady swung open to reveal an empty common room.
"G'night, Professor." Harry said.
"Pleasant dreams, Harry," Dumbledore replied, turning around and walking off. Harry couldn't help but think, pleasant dreams? Wonder what they're like.
Harry silently walked across the common room and up the stairs to his dormitory. He opened the door labeled, "Fifth Years," and creeped over to his bed. Quietly, so he wouldn't wake Ron, Neville, Seamus, or Dean, he opened the curtains to his bed and lay down, not bothering to take his glasses off. With all of the information he had swimming in his brain, he fell asleep immediately.
***
He was running as fast as his legs would carry him. He knew resistance was useless, but he wouldn't stand a die...he would fight until he could fight no more. Behind him, he heard the cackling of the branches and twigs as the Death Eaters followed him, chasing him.
In his haste to get away, he didn't notice a large log down on the ground. Therefore, he didn't jump over it, and soon he was laying sprawled on the ground, clutching his now sprained ankle and staring at the space before him in fear. Because there stood five Death Eaters, and that meant five billowing, black hooded robes. That meant five white masks and ten eyes staring at him...and it meant five ways of blocking escape.
"Come, our Lord will be pleased to see you," one of them hissed, and it didn't take him long to recognize the voice of Lucius Malfoy. Lucius laughed as he trembled in fear, and grabbed his arm. His nails dug into his skin and he howled in pain, forgetting all dignity he had. Lucius roughly heaved him to his feet and waved his wand around them, and they were gone.
When his eyesight started working properly, he found himself in the center of a circle of Death Eaters. And there, standing before him, red eyes gleaming in malice, was Voldemort.
"M-m-master," he stuttered, dropping down to his feet and bowing clumsily. He had nightmares about this moment--when the Dark Lord finally caught up with him...and made him pay the price.
"Get up of your feet. I shall dispose of you soon, there is no way to change my mind, so save your breath." Voldemort said softly. At the words 'dispose of you', what little color there was in his face left it.
"M-m-my Lord, I c-c-can be of use to y-y-you," he desperately tried to spare his life.
"Crucio!" The Dark Lord's voice rang out, and wave after wave of pain hit him full force. He was under the curse for two minutes--two minutes too long. The pressure was at last lifted, and he stared at Voldemort once again. The Dark Lord said, "You fled. I called you, and you fled. You are nothing but a traitor. You deserve this pain. Do you agree with me?"
He said nothing. "I said, do you agree with me?" Once again, he did not answer. Voldemort's face was etched with fury and amusement. "So you do not answer me. Very well, you have served your purpose--"
This time, he did interrupt, so he could stall him. Stall him from taking away his life. "W-w-what purpose was that, M-m-my Lord?"
His lip less mouth curled into a smile. "To remind my loyal Death Eaters what happens to those who disobey me. Good-bye, Igor Karkaroff. Avada Kedavra!"
***
"HARRY! HARRY, WAKE UP!"
Harry's eyes shot open, and he found himself staring at Ron's face. His glasses were still on, so he could see properly. "Harry, what in the hell were you dreaming out? You were screaming at the top of your lungs!" Ron's freckles stood out against his pale face, and peering around his bed curtains, he found that Dean, Neville, and Seamus were all watching him cautiously.
"What time is it?" he asked shakily. His own voice sounded weak and shaky, he could hardly recognize it.
"3am," Ron's equally shaky voice said. 3am, Harry thought. It couldn't give me a break, nooo, had to go and wake up screaming like I thought I would--had to jinx it...Still, there was something new about this dream. In all dreams before, he watched from the side the things going on. He was never seen or heard; he was just an observer. This time, he had been in Karkaroff's body--he felt the fear, the aches of the curse, the flashing of the light--
Harry shook his head, aware of his scar twanging on his forehead and cold sweat dripping off his brow. "Go back to sleep. It was just a nightmare." he told his roommates, and they all did, except for Ron.
"Harry--are you sure you're okay--" Ron stammered, unsure of what to say.
"I'm fine, Ron. Go back to sleep," he said again, and after a glance his way, Ron climbed back into his bed.
Harry laid his had back on his pillow. His scar had stopped hurting, but the dream stayed fresh in his mind. He promised himself that he would tell Dumbledore in the morning, at breakfast. He closed his eyes and willed sleep to come. But it didn't, and Harry didn't sleep a wink for the rest of the morning.
***
Harry was sick of Hogwarts.
No, he told himself, I'm not sick of Hogwarts--just the people in them.
It had been about a week since the dream, and true to his promise, Harry told Dumbledore about what the dream contained. Dumbledore thanked Harry for telling him about it and advised him to tell him about any more dreams he had in times to come. That morning's Daily Prophet announced Karkaroff's death, so the dream had been accurate--not that Harry didn't expect it to be. But in that article, it of course mentioned that he had been killed by Avada Kedavra, the Killing Curse, and it also quoted,
"We also have a comment from Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge, which states, 'The Death Eaters are taking advantage of the rumors about You-Know-Who being back, and in order to stop them, we must also start these ill comments. Anyone who continues to spread these rumors will be punished.'
Of course, famous Harry Potter continues to say that You-Know-Who is indeed back to power. What will become of him? Is Harry Potter really fit for society?"
Those last questions caused people to break out in whispers where ever Harry went, and he was attracting even more attention with a professor escorting him everywhere. Several times, Snape had to take him to his next class, and that proved more time to take points off of Gryffindor. He was still as awful to Harry as he was any other year, and it didn't help Harry with his spirits.
To top it all off, his nightmares were still coming strong, and the were getting more and more detailed. The shadows under his eyes were almost the color of black ink, and it took all of his willpower not to drop off in class. Professor McGonagall had taken him aside one day and point blank asked him why wasn't he getting enough sleep. He felt that she knew, but didn't want to voice her opinion in fear of upsetting him.
He managed to avoid the question because at that precise moment, the bell had rung and Harry rushed out of the classroom with Hermione and Ron in tow. McGonagall didn't question him anymore, but her hard-core expression seemed to soften whenever she looked at him in class...once, when Harry's eye were half shut and his head was resting on his hands while she was lecturing, he had accidentally dozed. He woke up to find McGonagall shaking him, and she didn't give him detention or take any points away from Gryffindor--she simply asked him to stay awake.
Now he was in Potions, and once again he was on the brink of falling asleep. Snape was going on about some Japanese potion that enabled you to shrink and enlarge yourself. Hermione was scribbling notes while Ron was doodling on his paper. Harry's eyes slowly shut and he was on the brink of drifting into an actual sleep...
"POTTER!"
Snape's furious shouts snapped Harry from his revive. He shook himself awake and looked at Snape, who's face was livid. He braced himself for the fifty or so points Snape was about to take off from Gryffindor.
"Hospital Wing," Snape ordered him. Harry blinked, not sure if he heard correctly. "Now, Potter, Hospital Wing." he repeated.
"But Professor--" Harry started to protest.
"Hospital Wing or detention at midnight tonight," Snape said, his voice somewhat--concerned? Harry weighed his options. Madam Pomfrey fussing over him, or having a detention in the middle of the night, where he was likely to fall asleep and get another one. He made his decision and silently gathered up his belongings, then walked out of the dungeon.
As he was walking, he pondered over why Snape would be so--nice--to him. Not figuring out an answer, he sighed and found himself in front of the Hospital Wing door. He entered the Wing and told Madam Pomfrey the situation...that he had been in Potions and Snape simply ordered him to come here. Madam Pomfrey "tut tutted" and rummaged around in her cabinets, then came back out with a steaming goblet. "Climb into bed and drink this," she said sternly.
Harry did as he was told and drank the purple liquid, soon discovering
that it was a dreamless sleep potion. The effects, like last year, were
instant. He fell asleep, soundly for the first time in months.
