Disclaimer: Most characters, ideas, worlds, and places are copyright J.K.
Rowling. Original plot, characters, and places are mine. If I have
inflicted upon any copyrights, please notify me. Thank you.
Chapter 4: Just A Dream
That night I didn't have any dreams. I assumed Hermione's visit had calmed my spirit, because I woke up relaxed. My mind was clear, my apartment was clean, and I felt as free as I had been in years. The small home I had lived in for years seemed like a completely new world. I paced back and forth, wondering what to do, as I decided my case was a failure and there wasn't much to investigate now that it was over. I flung myself on my bed and closed my eyes gently.
That night, I sat in my closet looking through an old photo album. I came to a picture with Hermione, Ron, and Harry at the Hogwarts Graduation. Harry was smiling brightly, his wonderful smile. His large emerald eyes seemed to sparkle at my own. I could feel a tear tickle down my cheek. I turned the page to a large photo of Harry and I at graduation. He had his arm around my shoulder, and his head resting on my shoulder. Although we had just been friends back then, it seemed as that was the start of our happiness. The next photo was one of our wedding. Hermione stood, her hands by her side, a tear of happiness rolling down her face, dressed in a beautiful pink bride's maid dress. Next to her was Ron, in a tuxedo; he was standing with his arms in the air, and a huge grin on his face; he had been the best man. And there, across from them, was Harry and I. He was holding my arm, his eyes sparkling in the sun. I had tears flowing freely, and he was trying to wipe them off.
I giggled; how I loved those days.
After that, there were bunches of pictures of the wedding. Some of me and Harry, some of Hermione and I, and some of the gang. Ron wasn't in too many pictures, but that was alright, because we had plenty more of him in the next few pages. I flipped through them, sections of our outings, Ron and I sitting by a fire sipping tea, Harry standing behind us, a hand on each shoulder.
All of the memories refreshed my mind. I could think clearly, and retrace them perfectly from how they happened. I pushed the photo book back onto the top shelf and sat in the closet for a moment. The house was so lonely and deserted. When Harry had been around, everything was always joyous and friendly. I remember when Harry admitted to me he wanted to have children. I was so happy, that I began to cry in his arms.
That had been two months before he was called away. I remember him leaving… I remember Hermione and Ron waving him off with tears in their eyes… and I remember me, standing in the back, trying not to cry, but give him faith.
Three months after he left, we received word that Voldemort killed him. We found and buried his body two weeks after. I remember the funeral… the world was there… everyone crying, and everyone missing the boy who had lived. That was the day when part of me died too. A part of everyone had died, the safe, fun part of everyone.
Now, it was two years later, and I was twenty-five. It was time to move on, to enjoy life while it was still in my hands. Nevertheless, I had no will, nothing to live for, now that Harry was gone. I was tired of people feeling sorry for me, pointing at me and whispering, "Oh look, there's Ms. Potter…" I was tired of my life, and what was happening to me. I was tired of needing help, and I was tired of the derangement.
I opened my eyes. The tears where flowing freely now. The sky was dim and gray. The atmosphere was cold and chilly, and the clouds swirled in an endless spiral above my head. I lay down on the hard gravel. I lay in the middle of an empty, open street, alone. The sky was getting darker every second. I could feel the sinister surrounding my lifeless body. Above me, I could see a large dark figure poke its head out in front of mine. All I could make out were the green eyes that made me twitch with pain. Then, he pulled off his hood, and reached his icy fingers out from the cloak. He stroked my face with his long sharp nails, leaving a scar. I could feel the blood wash away as the tears started down. I knew nothing was real, and disappointed that I would not have my chance to wash away with the blood, I lay helpless and useless as slowly he killed my spirit. He stepped back, smiling, and waved his hands about. From everywhere, black figures began to pop up and walk towards me, floating, dancing, all around. A silver gas leaked across the floor, but held back in a circle around me. I could feel a gust pushing on my body.
Without even knowing it, the gust had lifted my body into a limping stand. I didn't feel like trying to fight back, but somehow, the wind was there for me. I dropped my head back, and screamed as loud as I could, the blood gathering in a pool beneath my feet. The shadows rushed back, crouching, covering their ears from my voice. Even the large one, the one whom I had recognized from my very first dream, was crying in agony. Feeling the power leave, the wind dropped me to the ground. I lay, lifeless once more, the shadows afraid to step towards me.
I awoke in the closet, my feet pulled against the side, and my back against the other. I lifted my hand up to feel my face; a large slit was all I could feel. Running to the mirror, I saw what had happened in my dream; a large scar was printed across my right cheek. There was no blood, and the scar seemed as if it had been there my whole life. I put my hand over it and rubbed it, but it stayed the same. 'No, it was just a dream, it couldn't be. Or, this could be a dream itself?' I screamed to myself. However, the reality was real.
I ran back into the closet and pulled out my photo album, flipping through every page, my eyes widened. Across every picture of Harry and I, was a large claw mark, with blood leaking down the page. I threw it across the closet, ran out, and locked it, never wanting to see it again. I ran to my bed and lay down, crying.
My dreams were becoming real, and who knows what would happen in the next one…
Chapter 4: Just A Dream
That night I didn't have any dreams. I assumed Hermione's visit had calmed my spirit, because I woke up relaxed. My mind was clear, my apartment was clean, and I felt as free as I had been in years. The small home I had lived in for years seemed like a completely new world. I paced back and forth, wondering what to do, as I decided my case was a failure and there wasn't much to investigate now that it was over. I flung myself on my bed and closed my eyes gently.
That night, I sat in my closet looking through an old photo album. I came to a picture with Hermione, Ron, and Harry at the Hogwarts Graduation. Harry was smiling brightly, his wonderful smile. His large emerald eyes seemed to sparkle at my own. I could feel a tear tickle down my cheek. I turned the page to a large photo of Harry and I at graduation. He had his arm around my shoulder, and his head resting on my shoulder. Although we had just been friends back then, it seemed as that was the start of our happiness. The next photo was one of our wedding. Hermione stood, her hands by her side, a tear of happiness rolling down her face, dressed in a beautiful pink bride's maid dress. Next to her was Ron, in a tuxedo; he was standing with his arms in the air, and a huge grin on his face; he had been the best man. And there, across from them, was Harry and I. He was holding my arm, his eyes sparkling in the sun. I had tears flowing freely, and he was trying to wipe them off.
I giggled; how I loved those days.
After that, there were bunches of pictures of the wedding. Some of me and Harry, some of Hermione and I, and some of the gang. Ron wasn't in too many pictures, but that was alright, because we had plenty more of him in the next few pages. I flipped through them, sections of our outings, Ron and I sitting by a fire sipping tea, Harry standing behind us, a hand on each shoulder.
All of the memories refreshed my mind. I could think clearly, and retrace them perfectly from how they happened. I pushed the photo book back onto the top shelf and sat in the closet for a moment. The house was so lonely and deserted. When Harry had been around, everything was always joyous and friendly. I remember when Harry admitted to me he wanted to have children. I was so happy, that I began to cry in his arms.
That had been two months before he was called away. I remember him leaving… I remember Hermione and Ron waving him off with tears in their eyes… and I remember me, standing in the back, trying not to cry, but give him faith.
Three months after he left, we received word that Voldemort killed him. We found and buried his body two weeks after. I remember the funeral… the world was there… everyone crying, and everyone missing the boy who had lived. That was the day when part of me died too. A part of everyone had died, the safe, fun part of everyone.
Now, it was two years later, and I was twenty-five. It was time to move on, to enjoy life while it was still in my hands. Nevertheless, I had no will, nothing to live for, now that Harry was gone. I was tired of people feeling sorry for me, pointing at me and whispering, "Oh look, there's Ms. Potter…" I was tired of my life, and what was happening to me. I was tired of needing help, and I was tired of the derangement.
I opened my eyes. The tears where flowing freely now. The sky was dim and gray. The atmosphere was cold and chilly, and the clouds swirled in an endless spiral above my head. I lay down on the hard gravel. I lay in the middle of an empty, open street, alone. The sky was getting darker every second. I could feel the sinister surrounding my lifeless body. Above me, I could see a large dark figure poke its head out in front of mine. All I could make out were the green eyes that made me twitch with pain. Then, he pulled off his hood, and reached his icy fingers out from the cloak. He stroked my face with his long sharp nails, leaving a scar. I could feel the blood wash away as the tears started down. I knew nothing was real, and disappointed that I would not have my chance to wash away with the blood, I lay helpless and useless as slowly he killed my spirit. He stepped back, smiling, and waved his hands about. From everywhere, black figures began to pop up and walk towards me, floating, dancing, all around. A silver gas leaked across the floor, but held back in a circle around me. I could feel a gust pushing on my body.
Without even knowing it, the gust had lifted my body into a limping stand. I didn't feel like trying to fight back, but somehow, the wind was there for me. I dropped my head back, and screamed as loud as I could, the blood gathering in a pool beneath my feet. The shadows rushed back, crouching, covering their ears from my voice. Even the large one, the one whom I had recognized from my very first dream, was crying in agony. Feeling the power leave, the wind dropped me to the ground. I lay, lifeless once more, the shadows afraid to step towards me.
I awoke in the closet, my feet pulled against the side, and my back against the other. I lifted my hand up to feel my face; a large slit was all I could feel. Running to the mirror, I saw what had happened in my dream; a large scar was printed across my right cheek. There was no blood, and the scar seemed as if it had been there my whole life. I put my hand over it and rubbed it, but it stayed the same. 'No, it was just a dream, it couldn't be. Or, this could be a dream itself?' I screamed to myself. However, the reality was real.
I ran back into the closet and pulled out my photo album, flipping through every page, my eyes widened. Across every picture of Harry and I, was a large claw mark, with blood leaking down the page. I threw it across the closet, ran out, and locked it, never wanting to see it again. I ran to my bed and lay down, crying.
My dreams were becoming real, and who knows what would happen in the next one…