"Obliviate!"

            Petunia Dursley stood in front of the stove frying up a small amount of bacon and one egg for her breakfast. She had the cooking fan on, and the door open, trying to send the delicate smell of meat cooking in its own fat outside instead of the rooms where her family still sleep.

            The fat from the bacon splattered her arms and apron, leaving angry red patches on her forearms. "Vernon I'm leaving you.  I can't stay here any longer, Vernon.  Dudley tell your father I'm leaving him and I'll send him the divorce papers by owl." Petunia shook herself fiercely, trying to dislodge all the crazy ways of breaking it off with Vernon.  "I'll just have to wing it.  That's all I have to do.  People do it all the time now a days.  "Can't be to hard."  Petunia's voice lost its confidence as she mumbled to herself.

            Petunia poured herself a glass of juice and brought it to the table.  She looked blankly at the TV that was flashing muted pictures to her.  Petunia had gotten use to waking up before dawn to enjoy the quiet before everyone else was awake.  She had picked up the habit after Dudley had gone on his diet.  The lack of food made it so she couldn't sleep like she could on a full stomach. She had just gotten up earlier enough to eat a quick breakfast.

            Then at the being of summer, she had started to wake up earlier.  It had taken her a few days to figure out what would cause her to wake up suddenly.  It hadn't been until she was walking by Harry's closed door that she'd hear him yelling.  Petunia had burst into his room, ready to yell right back at him, but was shocked to see him asleep.  Harry had been thrashing around his bed with the covers tangled at his feet.  He was moaning and yelling about being sorry, saying that he hadn't meant to hurt anyone. 

            Petunia had stood in the doorway fixed to the spot.  She was terrified that anyone could be living such horrors while asleep.  Without warning Harry had sat up in bed, his green eyes were wide open, and terror was written on his face.  Petunia had to stifle a scream.  She looked into the eyes of her sister, and could feel them begging her to help Harry.  Petunia had rushed to apologize to him, but before words left her mouth, Harry had slumped back into bed still yelling, yet asleep.  She had rushed to his side and placed a hand on his face like she would do with her own son.

            Petunia had tried to calm him down with no success.  She didn't want him to wake up and see her there, but her heart wouldn't let her leave him there with so much pain etched on his features so she started to sing in a soft voice.  At first she didn't get a response to her song, Harry had kept yelling, then he started to calm down, and he appeared to fall deeper into sleep, but not totally devoid of troubles.  She sang until he stopped muttering.  She pulled the covers up around his arms before leaving the room.  She had calmed him so many times after that during the summer, almost everyday. He would sometimes wake up but he had never recognized her, he would call her names of his friends, or even teachers.  Once he had called her mum, and she couldn't stop herself from leaving the room.

            Petunia was back to standing over the stove, tending to her meal.  She flipped the bacon one more time before deciding that it was cooked to perfection.  The bacon was light and crispy with a golden brown texture.

            After turning off the stove Petunia grabbed a potholder and spatula and picked up the heavy cast iron frying pan.  Petunia carried the pan across the kitchen.  As she was going by the kitchen window, she stopped to peer out. 

            Her reflection peered back at her.  Petunia studied her ghostly reflection, with high check bones and deep-set light green eyes.  Petunia looked past her reflection to the houses on the other side of the street.  Their shutters were drawn against the predawn shadows and the street lamps with their orange glow.

            Petunia was about to turn on her bare heel when she heard a low humming noise.  "Smack!" Petunia screamed and dropped the frying pan and all its contents to the floor when a brown ball hit the window only to slide off it.

            A voice from upstairs broke the silence that had followed. "Petunia?" said the groggy voice of Vernon.  "Are you down there Petunia?  Is everything all right?"

            "Er- Yes, everything is fine Vernon.  I was washing the pans and I dropped one.  I'm fine though," Petunia yelled back up him.

            Petunia stooped, picked up the frying pan, and approached the window.  With the frying pan posed like a club, Petunia reached out a hand to open the window.  She slid the window so it was fully open.  The brown ball shot through the window and around Petunia's frying pan.

Whatever it was, it seemed to scream as it moved about the room at high speed.  It came flying back at her face.  Petunia set her eyes on the object moving towards her.  It was within feet and Petunia brought the cast iron frying pan down with all her might.

            The pan slammed into the object, which gave a dejected hoot and lay still at Petunia's feet.  A piece of parchment flew from its grasp and sailed through the air, landing in Petunia's juice.   

            She quickly scooped up the tiny, brown owl.  It looked back at her with small, sad eyes.  Petunia set the tiny bird on the table while she fished the roll of parchment out of her juice.  She shook the parchment off and set it next to the owl. 

            The little owl, no bigger then a tennis ball, lay still with its eyes closed.  Petunia prayed that she didn't kill the little creature.  She picked up some bacon off the floor and broke it into pieces for the owl.

            "Would you like some bacon little birdie?" The bird's beak opened slightly so Petunia placed a piece in its mouth.  Petunia couldn't tell if the owl ate the piece of meat, it just looked at her with dim eyes before giving a tired hoot and lay still.

            Petunia picked up the letter that was next to the owl.   She unrolled the parchment to find a small purple pouch.  She smoothed the parchment out on the table, and then read the letter under her breathe, "Petunia, I know we have never been properly introduced, but I'm Molly Weasley.  I'm Harry's friend's mom and I was a close friend of Lily's.  I have heard from my sons that you have recently found out you are a witch, so I am asking you to use the Floo powder to come to my house as soon as possible.  I encourage you not to refuse, for Harry has run away, and may be in trouble.  Also one of his friends has been attacked.  I have no time for details right now, I'll explain more when you get here.  Please hurry.  Molly Weasley." 

            Petunia read over the letter again, skimming its contents.  There were a lot of inkblots on the page, and the writing was spaced out, telling Petunia how much of a rush the writer was in.   "Floo powder?  What in the world..." Petunia's voiced dropped off as she remembered last summer when strange redheads had come out of the fireplace to take Harry.  Harry and the man had both talked about Floo powder.  She mused over the memory again, "Floo powder.  Harry said something 'bout that."  Petunia started to put the memories together, the four redheads coming out of the fireplace, Harry stepping into the fireplace and being whisked away, and the memories of her own childhood with Lily going places using the fireplace.  She remembered going with her once. 

            She had held on to her younger sister for her life.  Lilly had told her that if she let go she would be lost in the Floo network forever because she was only a muggle.  When they had landed at their destination, she had lost her balance and fell, bringing Lily crashing down with her. Lily's friends had laughed at their entrance, and had asked what she was doing there.

            Lily had calmly explained that she had invited her older sister to come shopping with her and her friends. Lily's friends had accepted her for the day.  They had gone through Diagon Alley like a mob; all laughing at Sirius who was acting like a fool.  Petunia knew all about Hogwarts life from Lily's stories.  She knew not to talk about the houses, because Lily had friends from all houses and it was easy to cause and up roar saying that one house was better than another.

            They had brought Petunia in every story there was.  Her favorite had been the wand store.  Mr. Ollivander had talked to Lily and her friends for a few minutes, asking about their wands, and then he had let her try some of the wands.  He had measured every part of her while Lily's friends looked on.  She had tried wand after wand, not because she wanted to, but because Sirius, Remus, and James kept giving her one more wand to try.

            Remus had given her a rosewood, 12 and one-fourth inch wand with Phoenix feathers, and one unicorn hair.  Mr. Ollivander had told them it was a very powerful wand, a good wand for healing charms, for it had been soaked in Phoenix tears.

            As soon as she touched it she felt something coarse through her body, tingling every nerve.  She looked at Remus and grinned at him, but he had taken the wand away from her before she could even wave it through the air Remus took it away from her and gave it back to Mr. Ollivander.  She had gotten the feeling that Remus had seen the power flow through her.  He wouldn't look at her as he tried to rush them out of the store, but before he got her outside Mr. Ollivander took her aside.

            "Don't worry dear.  The next time you come in here you will by buying that wand and I'll have it ready for you.  Go off with your friends and enjoy them while you can, there may not be very many days left."  He escorted her out of the store and into the bright sunshine of Diagon Alley.  She had fun the rest of the day, and she had quickly forgotten about the wand, but Mr. Ollivander's last few words rung clear.  Her magical friends soon forgot about her, and she did her best to forget about them.

            The little owl gave a short low hoot to her, and she snapped back into the kitchen, which seemed dull after the memory of the bright, cobblestone street.   She tried to get back to the many stores they had explored that day, but the moment was over.

            She didn't like the idea of traveling by Floo powder without a person of strong magic in their blood.  She picked up the small purple poach, and peered inside.  There was glittering powder in it; just liked she remembered from her first and only time using it, and a piece a parchment with hastily written instructions.  Petunia read over the instructions a few times.  She ripped a piece of parchment of Molly's letter and grabbed a pen.  She wrote one line, before picking up the owl, the pouch, the instructions, Molly's letter, and fire starting materials, and went into the living room.

            She removed the electric fire, and built one in its place.  It took a moment to get the fire going, but it soon took off.  She took a pinch of the powder and threw it in.  The flames rose high and turned an emerald color.  Petunia repeated the words she had to say over and over, before she even stepped in to the fire.  She held the tennis ball size owl to her chest.  She took a faltering step into the fire.  It was like a warm summer zephyr licking her legs and up her body.  She looked back at her living room, trying not to talk herself out of it, out of leaving the world she had accepted with open arms.  Trying not to think what would happen if she got stuck in the Floo network, and even if she did make it what kind of life was waiting for her on the other side.

            She spoke softly, but with determination "The Borrow!"  The fire sucked her away and out of sight.  She spun fast; it was almost like falling.  She could see other fireplaces whipping by her, and glimpses of sofas in peoples' houses.

            Vernon had just appeared in the kitchen as Petunia left.  Her read her simple note just as she fell into the Weasley's kitchen, all it said was "Good bye Vernon, breakfast is on the floor."  As he was picking the food up off the floor, miles away one of the Weasleys was helping Petunia up off the floor. 

* ~ * ~ *

            Bill saw the person before he heard the curse the person was saying.  His mind was racing; he didn't have time to resister the face of the blue clad figure before the curse was completed.

"Stupefy!" cried the voice.  Fred fell to the ground next to Bill.  As soon as the cruse was said it was repeated, but before George even hit the ground the red flash was headed straight at Bill.

Bill fell backwards hitting his head on the corner of the mantel above the fireplace.  He didn't hear the person in the doorway swear under his breath, or say the counter curse to wake up the twins and pull them to their feet.

            Bill was floating in the darkness of unconsciousness, not knowing where he was or what he was doing there. He knew that a part of him hurt, but he couldn't tell what hurt or how much.  He could tell that he was breathing, for the sound of his breath was the only noise that he could hear.  He didn't know where he was or why, he did know, however that this place was not a real place.

            He tried to see beyond the darkness, but he didn't even know if there was something beyond the blackness that pushed in around him like a thick tapestry.  Then without warning, voices and light flooded the darkness.

            "Do you think he'll be okay?" asked a voice that seemed to flicker in and out of his hearing.  Another voice answered.  It was a voice that sounded laced with guilt, but beyond that Bill didn't know what had been spoken.  The voices continued to float in and out of his hearing mixed with light like a light bulb with a bad connection.

Bill started to fall trough the darkness, spiraling down falling faster, but only to emerge in the lighted kitchen of The Borrow.  People were crowed around him and their faces swam in and out of focus.

            Bill noticed that someone was touching his face, stroking his face to bring him back into the real world.  A woman was peering at him through dim green eyes, which had long ago lost their sparkle, glow, and warmness.  A yelp of surprise leapt from his throat when his mind had registered the strange women looking at him.

            He tried to get away from the woman, but a throbbing pain in his head kept him where he was.  "Clam down, Bill.  This is Petunia Dursley, Harry's aunt," said Sirius, in deep blue robes.  He reached a hand out to help Bill to his feet.  Bill took the offered hand and staggered onto his feet.  He plopped down into a kitchen chair; the pain in his head was fretting to send him back into the darkness.

            "You cursed us?" He asked Sirius.

            Sirius nodded his head; "I heard voices coming from in here, when I was in the other room.  I heard Harry's name, and I thought you were the people who had attacked Hermione.  I'm really sorry 'bout that."

            Fred was looking at Sirius with a worried look on his face.  He looked like he was having an inner battle that showed up on his facial features.  "Is she okay?" he had asked barely above a whisper.  His eyes were downcast so he was looking at the floor.  He didn't want the worry in his eyes to show, but he couldn't keep it from soaking his voice.

            Sirius looked him over carefully, trying to find what he was hiding, but it had been too long since he had to console teenage guys.  "I don't know, Fred.  There hasn't been any word from the hospital.  Everyone is there, and your welcome to go, if you would like."  Sirius looked at George, Bill, and Petunia as to say you may go to. 

            Petunia spoke up for the first time, "What about the owl?  I mean..." her voice faded off as she looked at the tiny owl in her hand.  It had stopped hooting when she had fallen out of the fireplace.  She gently stroked the minuet owl.

            George looked closely at the owl in her hand.  "Is that Pig?  What happened to him?" he said in a voice filled with concern.

            Petunia looked over her shoulder at Sirius before taking a deep breath and telling her story of what had happened that morning, and the days that Harry had been gone.  She didn't tell them about the times that she had stayed with Harry when he was having nightmares.  She didn't think it was time for them to know that.

"It's really a surprise that he could survive a blow like that, but for how much longer will he be able to hold on?"  Bill said.

            "Shouldn't we bring him to that place in the Wizarding town?  Its still there, isn't it?"  Everyone looked at Petunia in surprise.  She looked back at them with amusement spreading on her face.  "I've been there once with Lily and her friends, and you."  She looked at Sirius and studied him, taking in the years of Azkaban.

            "How do you know each other?  Harry told us that at the end of his third year he told you that Sirius was his godfather, and a murder on the run," George asked Petunia.

            "Ah, yes that.  Well I did give her a fright when I helped her off the floor when she arrived here using Floo powder." Sirius shot a look at Petunia and she picked up the story.

            Petunia spun around in the Floo network.  After a few moments of the dizzying sensation she had to close her eyes.  Without warning the spinning changed to falling and she found herself face down on the hard floor of the Weasley's family kitchen.  She heard hurried footsteps coming her way.  She was too dizzy to stand, but she found herself being pulled up by a man that she had once known.

            He was someone that had mocked her for not having magic flow through her blood.  He was the one who had killed her sister.  And he was the one that had leered at her from the television one summer; her nephew's escaped murderer godfather.

            She screamed and tried to free herself from his grip, still screaming.  She pulled her foot back and thrusted her foot forward.  It made contact with his shin and he gave a yelp of pain.

            "Calm down woman!" He barked at her.  Petunia instantly shut up afraid of what must be a fierce man, and what he could do to her.  "I'm not going to hurt you, I don't know what Harry had told you, but it's not true."

            "You killed my sister!"  Petunia snarled at him.  She may not have liked her sister in her last half of her life, but she was still her younger sister and not even something like magic could change that fact.

            "I- I -didn't.  I- Oh!" He howled and buried his face in his hands.  His shoulders moved back and forth and his sobs were muffled.  "Oh, Lily and James.  I'm so sorry."  He looked at Petunia.  His eyes were full of haunting memories that she could never understand.

"You don't understand.  It's my fault they died, but I didn't kill any one.  I could never do something like that to my friends.  I would die for them, that's how much I cared about them.  And now I would do the same for Harry and his friends," Sirius looked at Petunia with tears streaming down his face.

            Petunia believed him.  She pulled him into a hug, remembering him to be her sister's friend, the troublemaker and practical joker.  He broke away from her embrace, and left the room.  Petunia had followed him into the other room.

            He sat down on an old sofa and started to talk.  He told her what had happened to the Marauders.  He was still talking when they heard noises coming from the kitchen announcing what would be the arrival of Bill and the twins.

            Silence had fallen across the small kitchen.  Each person lost in his or her mind, not knowing what to say.  The silence grew until it became an uncertainess of what they were to do.  The people in the kitchen started to shift their weight from foot to foot.

            "What about Ginny?"  George asked, breaking the spell that Petunia's story had cast.

            "I'm not sure.  Like I said before I haven't heard anything from the hospital," Sirius said. "Any of you are welcome to go to the hospital.  I can't of course."

            "What about the owl?"  Petunia said, drawing attention back to the pint-size bird.  "I would like someone to go with me.  I don't think I could find it by myself."

            "I'll go," said George.  "Say hi to everyone for me, Okay?"

            Everyone got ready to go.  Bill healed his hurt head so it wouldn't hurt any more.  George got some money.  Fred disappeared for a moment and came back with two flowers.  Sirius wished he could go with them.  It didn't take long for everyone to leave using Floo powder, leaving Sirius alone by himself.

* ~ * ~ *

            Under the smoked filled sky, almost hidden by beautiful huge blooms in all colors lay Harry Potter.  His skin was bruised and cut. His robes all but ripped to shreds hardly clung to his body.  His devilish black hair now covered in ash and bits of glass fall across his forehead. The invisibility cloak covered part of him, and where the cloak had been ripped, burned and smudged with dirt, Harry's body showed through.  

Thick, green, brown creepers crawled over him, rapping around his feet and working their way up the unconscious boy.  The creepers wound tightly over his body and small thorns projected from the creepers dug into his pale skin.

            The blooms gave off a strong and a very repulsive aura, making the air difficult to breathe in without gagging.  The smell was as smothering as the smoke that was still forming clouds over the burning Inn. 

            The magnificent Magic Carpet Inn now lay in runes; totally distorted.  The Quidditch pitch looked like a battlefield, where the war was lost.  The goal post had fallen down, crushing the stands where Harry had been earlier in the day.

            Carpets that had lost their keepers flew around searching for them.  Some of the carpets hovered over unmoving bodies that had once ridden around on the beautiful carpets.  A few carpets lay in the mud, cursed and ripped to shreds, due to their loyalty to their owners.

            Harry's carpet was still stiff from the curse that had shot it out of the sky.  It was lying too close to the flames that were threatening to eat it.  People were running by, but nobody stopped to do the counter course.

            The people running by were no longer fleeing guests, but death eaters searching for Harry.  None of the guest knew that The Boy Who Lived was missing, so they had all fled as soon as they could.

            The Dark Mark hung in the air, after Voldemort himself said the curse to put it there. Most of the death eaters had apparated away upon seeing the skull and serpent. It had been their cue to leave; that's how they had known that their job was done.  Only a few were left to search for Harry and bring him to Lord Voldemort.  The death eaters were still shouting out curses.  The curses helped them in their search for Harry, or they were making the wards strong to keep out the Ministry hit wizards.

            Harry was almost totally encased in the creepers.  Even if he were awake he wouldn't have been able to move.  Just moments before the vines would cut off his air and totally block him from the world above the under brush, a shadow of a gruff human fell across him, blocking the sun.

            Davey Gudgeon was standing over Harry.  He pulled out his rather long wand and said a spell under his breath.  A purple light shot out of his wand and rushed at Harry and the creepers.  The creepers shrank away from Harry; they retreated like small garden snakes.  Gudgeon said another spell and Harry floated by his side on a stretcher.  He walked out of the under growth with Harry.  The death eaters let him go by them, and with a help of a portkey they left the Inn's grounds.

            Harry awoke many hours later.  He was confused when he realized he was no longer beneath the under brush, but instead he was lying on a red faded sofa.  His whole body ached.  Harry could hear a voice coming from another room.  Someone was talking and moving about in the next room.  Harry strained his ears so he could hear, but he only got snippets of a one-sided conversation.

             "Yes Sir," said a voice that Harry thought he had heard before.  "Is it this one Sir?" There was a seconded of silence, then more talking. "It says, um," The voice drop too low for Harry to make out the words.  Harry wanted to know who the people were and what they were talking about.

            "Yes Sir.  I'm sure he is.  He is asleep on the sofa.  Yes Sir." There was a pause between each of the statements, like someone was asking a question.  It is done Sir.  I will Sir.  Good day to you too." Harry was going to pretend to be asleep in case the owner of the voice decided to come and see him.  He didn't even have time to close his eyes.

            The door swung open and Davey Gudgeon came into the room. He was carrying a tray pilled high with delicious looking food.  Gudgeon smiled at Harry when he saw that he was awake.

            "How are you doing Harry?"  Harry groaned.  "I see.  It seems that you had a hard day.  You hungry?" He gestured towards the tray in his hands.

Harry nodded in reply.  Gudgeon helped him to a sitting position and set he sat the tray on Harry's lap.

            "I don't have to feed you, do I?"  Gudgeon gave a gruff laugh.  Harry ate the food he was given.  His arms were tired and could hardly lift the fork to his mouth.  As he ate, he took the time to look more closely at the room he was in.

            The room was over all very informal.  A few pictures adorned the walls.  Harry studied the photos.  They showed a group of people, mostly men, gathered in a gray stone room.  Some of the people were under the frame, or had their backs to Harry.  Harry didn't recognize anyone in the photos.  Harry wondered why people would have a party in such a dull looking setting.

            Harry's eye's traveled on to the other objects in the room.  The furniture in the room clashed with Harry's first impression of Gudgeon, who had fine robes lined with fur.  Everything in the room had a shabbiness look to it.  The chairs had holes in them, the table had scratches, and a few sheets were draped over odd shape objects.  Gudgeon must have noticed Harry looking around the room and he quickly started to talk.

            "I sent a letter to Dumbledore," Gudgeon didn't look at Harry as he spoke he kept glancing at the photos  "He'll be glad to know you're okay.  I'm thinking you can rest up here for a few days and then head back home.

            "The Minister of Magic is gonna have a hard time with what happened today.  That is if he got out of there okay."

            Harry looked at him, "The minister was there today, at the Inn?"

            "Of course he was there."  Gudgeon laughed again at Harry's look of surprise.

            "I hope nobody thinks I kidnapped you.  The press would have a field day with that 'Local man kidnapped The Boy Who Lived right in front of a crowd of Death Eaters.'  Wouldn't that be rich!"  Gudgeon slapped his knee.

            "How did you get by all those Death Eaters?  I mean why didn't they stop you?"

            "It wasn't that hard Harry.  It's too bad about the Quidditch tryouts.  Don't see how they can finish those now."  Gudgeon continued to talk as Harry ate.  He would occasionally say something to Gudgeon when he would mention something important.

            Harry felt more tired with every mouth full of food.  His arms were so tired that he couldn't lift them any more, although he was still hungry.  His ears seemed to stop working and he could no longer tell what Gudgeon said.  Harry's eyes were fighting him.  They wanted to close, but he didn't want to sleep yet, he knew that Gudgeon was talking to him.  Harry blinked, but his eyes didn't reopen.  He dropped off to sleep.

            "About time," Gudgeon said as he lifted the tray off Harry's lap.  He walked through the door he had come through earlier.  The room had very little in it.  There was a grand fireplace at one end.  In the middle of the vast chamber was a scrub wood table with a giant stone cauldron on it.  Some bottles that used to be full were next to the cauldron.

Gudgeon cleared the bottles away with a sweep of his wand as he walked towards the fireplace.  The sounds of his footsteps echoed off the gray stone floors and walls.  He lighted the fire, which was the only light in the stone chamber.  There were no doors or windows in the room to let in light.

            Harry was asleep on the faded sofa, which was rather small for him to sleep on.  It was moved like a love seat, made for two people sitting unnaturally close. Harry's feet hung over one of the arms.  His arms were tangled under his head, for lack of a pillow.   As soon as his eyes closed, Harry slipped into a dark, dank stone room.  He had stepped into the pictures that adorn the walls.  The room was identical to the pictures, right down to the throng of people.

            For one second, or maybe less, it was hard to tell when you were asleep; the room stood still and no one moved.  Then without warning action exploded around the room.  Babble surrounded Harry, but he couldn't make sense of any of it.  He heard names, places, and dates, but his mind couldn't, or maybe wouldn't put it all together.

            Gudgeon was content just eating the food his house elf had given him.  Gudgeon could hear the elf punishing herself; he made no move to stop her shrieks of agony.  He did wish however, that the elf would punish herself quieter.   He made a mental note to punish her for her noise. 

            Just then Harry started to move.  His eyes moved rapidly under his closed lids, and he was mouthing words in his sleep.   If a voice was given to his silent words it would be a jumble of different conversations, but that is just what Gudgeon did when he pulled out his wand.  Davey dragged his chair closer, and watched Harry react to his dreams.

            Harry unfolded from the sofa.  He looked around the room through closed eyelids.  He seemed a little lost.  Gudgeon laughed a bit; Harry's strange movements amused him.  He watched Harry approach the door to the drab room.  Hesitating only slightly, Harry entered the room.  Gudgeon followed him.

            The room had grown to be rather hot and stuffy with the fire roaring in the fireplace.  Gudgeon didn't pay any mind to Harry's constant babbling, as he moved over to the fire.  He pulled out his wand, and was in mid swish when he got the feeling that the fire would be needed later.  He kept it lit.  The feel to the room now varied greatly to the feel of the room in Harry's dream.

Harry was hugging his robes to his body trying to stay warm.  It wasn't until he noticed this fact that he realized how strange of robes he had on.  He studied the robes as if he was Hermione studying for the NEWTS.  The robes were so black; the darkness seemed to go on forever. They clung to his frame like the cloth was a part of him.  He rubbed the fabric between his fingers.  The fabric was smooth, and thick.  Harry could tell he was wearing some of the finest dress robes, most likely better then Draco Malfoy could ever hope to have.

Davey Gudgeon watched Harry rip his already very battered robes.  Gudgeon made no move to stop Harry.  He wondered what Harry was doing in his dreams to rip up his robes.  Gudgeon leaned against the mantle, and smoked a pipe.

Harry dropped his robes and looked at the other people in the room with him.  He couldn't make out anyone's face.  What use to be just babbling now flooded his ears in a string of choppy phrases.  He listened to everyone as they talked.  Harry wandered through the room trying to absorb what reached his ears.  The people talked about the Quidditch tryouts.  What Harry didn't understand was that they keep saying "upcoming."  Harry stopped next to a rather large group of people dressed in black; they were talking about the tryouts.

"Lets hope everything goes as planed," said a man with a very cold voice.  A female voice as light as music spoke up.

"I can imagine the headlines," she chuckled lightly before she went on, "Catastrophe at Quidditch Tryouts." She chuckled again along with the rest of the group.  "Do we know yet if the boy will be there?"

"Ah yes, our guest of honor.  He will be there tomorrow. He was seen at the Inn."  This was a new voice that Harry hadn't heard yet.  The statement that he told the group sent the rest into a sort of up roar.  Talking broke out all around Harry, but not seeing anyone's face, Harry couldn't tell who was talking

"Who saw him?  Was it one of us?"

"I heard that it was one of us.  Who ever it was got him into the Inn."

"Someone said he was lost.  It was lucky that one of our people found him."  The voices swilled and mixed, the noise pushed in on his ears.  The sound made him dizzy, it reached such a point that the pitch was so high, Harry couldn't tell he was yelling.

Gudgeon was shocked to hear Harry yelling in what had to be anguish.  Gudgeon had been listening to Harry as he talked in his sleep.  Gudgeon was surprised by the way Harry switched voices with perfection.  Gudgeon recognized most, if not all the voices that Harry was using. He was mildly concerned for the boy by his sudden change in mode, but he knew it was bound to happen.  He wondered if he should wake him up, he wasn't sure if you could be hurt in the realm of dreams.  He decided not to wake him, he had heard about how risky it was to try and wake someone who was in a deep sleep. People said that if you were waken when you were in a deep state of sleep, just like Harry, that person might get stuck in their dream.  Gudgeon didn't know if the story was true, but he wasn't about to test it out on Harry.

Without warning Harry's yells stopped.  Gudgeon looked at him, holding his breath to see what would happen next.  Gudgeon waited.  Silence took the place of Harry's yells.  The silence was so strong that it blocked out every sound, from the crackling of the fire to Harry's ragged breath.  Gudgeon keep waiting.

Harry turned to face Gudgeon.  Harry's eyes snapped open.  Gudgeon stared at Harry who stared right back.  "You-you were sleep walking Harry," Gudgeon stammered.  "Why don't you go back to the sofa," it wasn't a question. Gudgeon walked forward, and reach out to try and guide Harry back to the sofa.  Harry turned away from him, and started to talk in strange voices again.  Davey took a shaky breath and returned to the fireplace to listen to Harry.

The sound snapped back into voices.  Harry was standing next to the same group of people, but more had joined in the discussion. The topic of the talking had shifted slightly.  The group still talked about the Quidditch tryouts, but they were no longer talking about the boy.  It seemed to Harry that he missed some of the conversation.

"Security has to be tight. We all need our wands." Harry recognized the man's cold voice; it was the same voice from the first conversation.  Harry thought the voice sound more familiar then some he had just encountered.  The voice had such a coldness that it stood out, but then he though of the Slytherins.  Almost all of them had icy voices.

"Are were wearing our robes?"

"Don't be daft!" A voice snarled, "What else would we wear?  Muggle clothing?"  A form separated from the blankness that was the other robe figures.  Harry was almost sure this person was the one who had just finished talking.  Harry still couldn't see anyone's face.

"Well something sure got Avery in a huff."  Grunts of agreement went around the group.

"What about you?" A female voice cut through the group's small talk.  Harry didn't think this party, if you want to call it that, was a big hang out for females.  The voice was the same as before.  "Aren't you going to say anything?  You've been standing there for an awful long time."  A slim figure glided out of the mass and touched Harry's shoulder.  Harry could tell by just looking that a female was hovering over him.  Harry blushed.

"M- me?" Harry stuttered, still blushing.

Gudgeon looked up sharply when he heard Harry speak in his normal voice.  He listened while the boy went between his own voice and the voice of a woman.  The women seemed to know that Harry had never been to a gathering like that one before.  Davey watched as Harry interacted with the women only he could see.  Harry made hand gestures just like he was talking to a real person.

The dream had taken a different path then Gudgeon thought.  Harry wasn't suppose to talk to the people in the dream, he was only to observe what happened around him.  Gudgeon thought about waking him again, but something told him not to. It was the same feeling he got when he was going to put out the fire.  The feeling was like someone whispering to him, telling him not to do it, and so Gudgeon let the dream run its course. 

Gudgeon took out his wand, and drew a chair in the air.  He sat down.  He had long ago gotten tired of standing, just leaning against the mantel with the flames warming him.  Gudgeon closed his eyes, but he had to force them open again.  The night had worn on as Harry's dream continued to unfold.

"Course I'm talking to you."  Harry could feel her eyes drilling into him, even if he couldn't see her face.  He shifted his weight from one foot to the other.  Harry didn't want them to know he had to no idea what they were talking about.

"Well its clear you are new hear.  Let me introduce you to everyone.  The first meeting you come to is a lot different then the initiation ceremony.  You'll get use to it, don't worry."  She started to steer Harry around the room. "I'll start be introducing you to some of the people you well need to know to move up in our world."

"What-what is your name?"

"My name?" She laughed, "Why, you don't need to know my name.  Come along."  She led Harry to the front of the room, near the fireplace that had a purple fire burning.  The fire gave off no heat.  In fact the fire seemed to seep with coldness.  Harry shivered.

"Okay. So are you ready to meet some people?"  She reached out a hand and took someone by the arm.  "So this is." She continued to speak, but Harry couldn't hear her.

Wind swilled in his ears, but grew to be the deafening screaming noise that Harry had heard before.  It was louder then ever.  Harry covered his ears, but he found that the noise came from inside him.  By covering his ears the noise grow louder still, and built up pressure.  Harry left his hands on his ears, but a yell pushed past his lips, the pressure had been too much to keep in.

It was a harsh and very raw yell that woke Gudgeon from his sleep.  He was having his own dreams, but they quickly faded from his mind.  "Stupid boy," he grunted.

He looked at Harry.  Harry was clawing at his ears, his dirty nails digging into his own flesh.  He was trying to stop the noise, but it was beyond his control.   His eyes were screwed shut, with tears leaking out.  Sweat beaded up on his face.  It was clear the boy was in pain.

Gudgeon came to a conflict in interest.  He had been told to let the dream run its course, which it was doing.  But seeing the boy in this much pain, Davey didn't know if he could let it go on.  Still it was risky to wake him.  Gudgeon found he had a con to every pro he thought of.  He didn't know what to do.

"Shut up boy," he snarled.  "Do I wake him, and hope for the best or do I press on with the plans?"

"Wake him you fool!" An angry voice snapped at Gudgeon.  Causing him to spin around looking for the source of the voice.  "In the fire you fool!"

"Sir!" Gudgeon said jumping to his feet.  "Sir how may I help you?"  Gudgeon bowed low, with a flourish of an arm. He then dropped to his knees in front of the fire.

"Wake the boy before he loses his mind."  Gudgeon turned to look back at Harry, who was still having a fit, and back again at the face staring out at him from the fire. 

"Do it know!  Before it's to late!"  The man in the fire pulled one of his arms into the portal.  He cuffed Gudgeon across the face.  The red mark that he left would later become a large and very vivid bruise.

The pain jolted Gudgeon back to his senses that had been absent since he awoke from his nap. "Yes Sir," Gudgeon grumbled.  He pulled his wand out and faced Harry.  Gudgeon said a long spell.  The spell had such force that it sent Harry falling to the floor.  When his head hit the stone his eyes snapped open.  That was the only thing that changed about him.

Davey panicked.  Harry had one of the strangest looks in his eyes.  It was a mix of fear, pain, and deep confusion.  Harry's yelling ceased.  Davey didn't notice this; he was still staring at Harry's eyes.  Davey was trying to see any sign that Harry had woken up, hoping that he didn't become lost in the dream world.

Harry's eyes seemed to shut down.  Blackness encased him; it was suffocating.  Harry tried to fight it, this unknown force that came with the screaming din.  It was like swimming in a black ocean, but he was drowning.

The blackness slowly changed.  Harry was now in the mist of a purple world.  The air changed too.  It took on a coldness that cold freeze the blood that flowed in Harry's veins.  The blue fire that once burnt in the threshold was now swelling around Harry.  The purple flames licked at his body, leaving frost covering his arms, legs, and his face.  He was having trouble breathing.

The purple mist grew dark around the edges.  Harry was about to pass out, and become lost in the world of dark dreams.  Moments before the blackness closed in altogether, he heard someone saying his name.

Harry struggled.  He felt himself fall.  Blurs of color flashed across his mind.  A sharp pain surged through his head and down his back as he collided with a hard surface; his eyes snapped open.

Davey Gudgeon was standing over him repeating Harry's name.  The fear left Harry's eyes, but the pain and confusion seemed to become more evident.  "Harry? Harry, do you know who I'm am?"  Harry made no move to show that he had even heard Gudgeon.

Gudgeon reached out a hand to tap Harry on the side of his face.  Harry's eyes slide into focus and he saw Gudgeon hovering over him.  A moan slipped past his lips.

"Thata boy.  Come on, come round."  Gudgeon tapped Harry's face some more.

"What are you doing?" said the man in the fireplace.  His voice was very forceful. "What are you waiting for?  Put a memory charm on him.  Do you want him to know what happened?"

"Then what was the point in making him have that dream?"  Davey turned and growled at the man.

"The point, Gudgeon, is there is no point.  That wasn't what was to happen.  Something went wrong.  Don't you see that, or are you to daft?"

"Yes Sir.  I understand.  I will do the memory charm."

"Good.  I will wait to see if you do it right.  Make sure it is strong enough, you don't want him to remember where he got the injuries.  I have to talk to you, so hurry up." he paused for breath, than he continued.  "Put him back in the other room, make sure he can't go anywhere outside that room.  Then I want you to come back in here."

"Yes Sir," said Gudgeon.  He took a deep breath to be sure he had force behind his words.  He yelled into the stone chamber filling it with echoes of: 

"Obliviate!"