Chapter Three

Lizzie tried to be a good girl after her puzzling illness, never complaining about the monotony of classes and homework. At least she had her dreams to distract her. Every night she had dreams so real and so vivid that while awake she wondered which was real.

She saw the most beautiful place in the world with water as brightly blue as Lizzie's right eye. It was always the same: a beautiful and cheerful girl about her own age running through hills and valleys or sailing on the ocean. The dreams were just so real! She could feel the sun on her skin and the grass beneath her bare feet, or she could smell the tangy salty air and hear the waves crashing and birds calling. Sometimes she could see the young teeenaged girl and her father, and sometimes she was the girl. She saw what she saw, felt what she felt, and heard what she heard.

Every morning Lizzie would awaken from the dream disappointed. She would stare up at the dreary ceiling and wish that her time at Hogwarts was the dream, not reality.

Her fourteenth birthday came in October -- October 31 to be exact. Her grandfather and mother sent her presents, as did her sisters far away in America and someplace unknown, and at tea time she ate birthday cake in her grandfather's rooms. Outwardly she was excited, but on the inside she merely felt despair. She was a whole year older and still nothing was different.

That night, though, her perfect dream shattered . . .

*****

The girl awoke from a deep sleep to hear shouts.

"Shh, you'll wake my daughter!" a voice exclaimed. That was her father. The girl sat up in bed and strained to hear better.

"Ha!" an unfamiliar male voice growled. "Some child! How old is she, old man?"

"She's only eleven," her father said, confusing the girl. Hadn't it been her fourteenth birthday the day before?

"I doubt that," snarled another male voice. There was a thunk, and the girl imagined her father being slammed against the wall.

"You cannot protect her forever," a slick voice hissed. "I am doing a great service to you, letting you and that girl come to England with us. It is time you offered up a proper payment."

"I do not know what you are talking about!" her father exclaimed.

The voice laughed maliciously. "You will soon enough. Care to watch? No?" The girl flinched as she heard the sharp sound of a heavy blow, most likely aimed at her father, followed by a dull thud. Instinctively, the girl felt through her magic that her father was dead.

The door to her room blew open, and standing before her were three young men. Two were large and burly, but the third was smaller and noble-looking with a smooth and flawless appearance.

The smaller man smiled cruelly at her and aimed his wand at her. Straps appeared to pin her to the bed, and a strap also covered her mouth. The girl tried to scream, but couldn't behind the restraints. She still did not know what was going on at this point, so sheltered her father had kept her.

The smaller man pulled off his clothes slowly and approached the bed. He had a predatory gleam in his eyes. He ripped the blankets off the bed, and then . . .

*****

Lizzie awoke with a scream in Gryffindor tower. She lay panicked beneath her bedding, feeling for certain that she was back on the ship with the girl who was about to be attacked.

Lizzie shuddered and tried to shake off the feeling, although it lingered with her all day. She began to feel even more unsettled as the time wore on, and when night came Lizzie was actually afraid to go to sleep and dream.

Instead, she wandered to her mother's room.

"Mom," she said, knocking on the door and sticking her head in. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Of course Lizzie." Her mother put down the book she had been reading and looked at her youngest child. "What can I do for you?"

"Nothing . . ." Lizzie hesitated. "It's just -- I've been having these dreams."

Her mother smiled at her and raised an eyebrow. "Nightmares are frightening the great Lizzie McGonagall-Dumbledore?"

"It's more than just a nightmare! It's so real!" Lizzie exclaimed.

"How so?"

"Well, up until last night it was just so beautiful and perfect. Everything was so clear, clearer than real life here.

But last night, things changed."

Her mother nodded, and Lizzie took that to mean she was taking her seriously. She took a deep breath and went on.

"I mean, I've always followed this one girl, either seeing her or being her, if you know what I mean. But last night, I -- she -- she was – was attacked!"

Minerva's eyes narrowed at her daughter in concern. "And you felt all of this?"

"Well, no. I woke up right before it happened. But it was so real Mom!"

"And so now you are afraid."

Lizzie nodded in shame. She was a Gryffindor. She was supposed to be too brave for these things. "Yes. I'm afraid of what's happened to her."

Her mother sighed and stood up, motioning for Lizzie to follow her. They hurried through the cold, deserted, dark castle to the hospital wing.

"I normally wouldn't even suggest this," Minerva said as she pulled a flask off the shelf and hastily scribbled a note to Madam Pomfrey. "But you seem to be deeply upset. Here," she handed Lizzie the potion. "Drink this every night before bed, about a cup. It should help you sleep better."

Lizzie nodded. "Thank you," she said. She turned the flask over in her hand but couldn't find any sort of label.

"What does it do?"

"It will help you sleep without dreams," her mother said. "Now, go to bed my littlest. It is far past your bedtime. My other daughters may be far away, but I can still mother you."

Back in her room, Lizzie drank deeply from the flask. Immediately she felt a cloud of drowsiness surround her, and she fell asleep before even changing out of her uniform.