It was the dreams that broke him. For a while he had dreamed only of Cedric, and the duel, and Wormtail's hand dropping into the cauldron, and then those dreams faded once he was back at the Dursley's. Even being back there wasn't too bad. The Dursley's avoided him, scared by the air of harsh darkness that hung around him now. And when September came, Harry was ready to return to Hogwarts.
But the first night there, the dreams started all over again. Once again Harry fought through the maze. Once again he reached the portkey. But this time, when he reached for it, it wasn't Cedric grasping the other side.
It was Ron.
Harry screamed 'no' and fought to wake, but he had to relive it all again, every agonising second. The voice, saying 'kill the spare', and it was Ron that fell to the ground, Ron who came out of Voldemort's wand, Ron's body he dragged back to Hogwarts.
Harry woke up sweating and shaking, to find Ron bending over him anxiously.
"Bad dreams?" he asked, kindly. Harry nodded mutely, knowing Ron would not ask any more. Only he and Hermione had never asked, merely waited for him to tell his story, and he was far more grateful then they would ever know, to both of them.
"I have chocolate." Ron said, sympathetically, and sitting cross-legged on Harry's bed, he handed him a huge chunk of chocolate. Harry smiled gratefully, broke it in half, and handed the other half to Ron.
"Ta, don't mind if I do." Ron said, and sitting there in the dawn light, munching on chocolate and arguing about Quidditch tactics with his best friend, Harry almost forgot the terrifying dream. Almost. If it wasn't for the throbbing pain in his scar.
*******************
He wasn't going to tell Hermione. Except he hadn't counted on Hermione knowing him better than he knew himself. She took one look at him, and demanded,
"What's wrong?"
"Nightmare." He said softly, under his breath, glancing around to make sure no-one was listening. She winced, sympathetically, and stroked his arm absent-mindedly.
"I thought those were gone." She said, frowning.
"So did I. But they came back. Except last night.." he turned round to make sure Ron wasn't listening. He was over the other side of the corridor, with Ginny. Harry pulled Hermione closer into an alcove, anxious to be away from prying ears and eyes. The last thing he needed was for another rumour about his sanity -or lack of it- sweeping the school.
"Last night, it wasn't Cedric in my dream, it was Ron."
"Harry..." Hermione said, her voice low and gentle and reassuring.
"It was awful." Harry said, staring into her eyes. Maybe if he stared there, looking down into those clear brown eyes, right down so deep he saw nothing else, he'd wouldn't remember Ron's dying scream, the crumpled pale body. "It was so real, Hermione! What if..what if somehow Voldemort's getting into my dreams?"
"Look, just because magical things do happen doesn't mean everything odd has a magical explanation." Hermione said sensibly. "I know it was a horrible dream, but it was just a dream. And you're worried Voldemort will come back and kill your friends, and that's why you dreamed what you did. Its just psychology, not witch craft."
Harry nodded.
"I thought about that..but, Hermione..my scar." He said in a low urgent whisper. She reached up and pushed his messy black hair aside. Underneath, his scar glowed an angry red-hot. Hermione touched it for a moment, and Harry closed his eyes, her hand a blessed coolness, against the burning of the scar.
"Maybe you should see Dumbledore." She said seriously. Harry nodded in agreement. He'd thought about that, but it was good to have Hermione's agreement. If she didn't think he was over-reacting, then he was probably ok.
"What are you two muttering about?" Ron asked slightly peevishly.
"Who the new Quidditch captain is going to be." Hermione lied smoothly, much to Harry's surprise. "I still can't see why it can't be Harry."
"I told you, it has to be a sixth former." Ron explained, irritated, sighing deeply.
"Why?" Hermione demanded, and Harry grinned. He knew she'd started this argument deliberately to distract Ron, and he was grateful. He followed them bickering all the way down the corridor.
*****************
He told his story again later on, in Dumbledore's office.
"Miss Granger could be right." Dumbledore said. "it could simply be your mind, not Voldemort."
"But sir, my scar..." Harry stammered.
"Yes...have you told Ron what you dreamed?"
"No sir, only Hermione."
"And she suggested you come to me? Good, good. Most perceptive young lady." Dumbledore muttered, almost to himself. "Perceptive and intelligent. You do well to go to her for advice, Harry. Ronald Weasley, while a most engaging young man, does have a slight tendency to panic somewhat, mm?" Dumbledore asked, twinkling slightly. Harry smiled.
"Yes sir."
"Well, my advice to you, is to carry on as normal, and see if the dreams come again..if you can bear it?" he asked, peering at Harry over the top of his glasses.
"I think I must, sir." Harry said bravely, although he didn't feel brave. He felt his stomach sink at the thought of going through the dream again. "If Voldemort is trying to get to me through my dreams, I want to know."
"Good. Very well, dream away, Harry Potter. And do not be afraid. I feel sure that if you, or any of your friends were truly threatened in these dreams, the intelligent Miss Granger and the courageous Mr Weasley would find a way to protect you..no matter how many school rules it broke." He smiled, Harry grinned, and left.
But the reassurance Dumbledore gave him evaporated almost the moment he was out of the room. And as the day wore on, he became more and more apprehensive about the night time. Ron and Hermione, sensing this, stayed with him in the common room. The three of them sat near the fire, trying to teach Hermione the tactics of wizard chess. And the hours still ticked on, and the fire still burnt, and Ron's and Hermione's fun seemed more and more forced, until finally Hermione's eyelids dropped, and she fell asleep curled up by the fire.
"Time for bed." Harry said, trying to sound relaxed and tired, and as if bed was the best place to be right now, not the terrifying ordeal he was imagining.
"I suppose " Ron said, as the clock struck one. Harry draped a blanket over Hermione, lingering to make sure it was wrapped securely round her, lingering to postpone the moment he'd have to close his eyes.
"C'mon'" Ron said sleepily from the stairs. Harry stayed a second, looking at Hermione's face, so peaceful in the firelight. A strand of hair had fallen across her cheek, and Harry pushed it aside, absent-mindedly.
"Harry." She murmured, but her eyes were still closed. She was dreaming.
"Wish me sweet dreams." Harry murmured, his hand resting for a second on her cheek, then wearily he turned away and climbed the stairs.
**********************
At first his dreams were like any other night..Quidditch, his friends, the occasional storybook character, the odd conversation, and subconsciously Harry relaxed.
Then the maze came..dark and harsh and apprehensive. Harry tried not to reach for the cup, but he couldn't hold back. Shaking he looked up, into the face opposite him, so young, so innocent, so alive.
"Ginny!!!" he cried.
But the first night there, the dreams started all over again. Once again Harry fought through the maze. Once again he reached the portkey. But this time, when he reached for it, it wasn't Cedric grasping the other side.
It was Ron.
Harry screamed 'no' and fought to wake, but he had to relive it all again, every agonising second. The voice, saying 'kill the spare', and it was Ron that fell to the ground, Ron who came out of Voldemort's wand, Ron's body he dragged back to Hogwarts.
Harry woke up sweating and shaking, to find Ron bending over him anxiously.
"Bad dreams?" he asked, kindly. Harry nodded mutely, knowing Ron would not ask any more. Only he and Hermione had never asked, merely waited for him to tell his story, and he was far more grateful then they would ever know, to both of them.
"I have chocolate." Ron said, sympathetically, and sitting cross-legged on Harry's bed, he handed him a huge chunk of chocolate. Harry smiled gratefully, broke it in half, and handed the other half to Ron.
"Ta, don't mind if I do." Ron said, and sitting there in the dawn light, munching on chocolate and arguing about Quidditch tactics with his best friend, Harry almost forgot the terrifying dream. Almost. If it wasn't for the throbbing pain in his scar.
*******************
He wasn't going to tell Hermione. Except he hadn't counted on Hermione knowing him better than he knew himself. She took one look at him, and demanded,
"What's wrong?"
"Nightmare." He said softly, under his breath, glancing around to make sure no-one was listening. She winced, sympathetically, and stroked his arm absent-mindedly.
"I thought those were gone." She said, frowning.
"So did I. But they came back. Except last night.." he turned round to make sure Ron wasn't listening. He was over the other side of the corridor, with Ginny. Harry pulled Hermione closer into an alcove, anxious to be away from prying ears and eyes. The last thing he needed was for another rumour about his sanity -or lack of it- sweeping the school.
"Last night, it wasn't Cedric in my dream, it was Ron."
"Harry..." Hermione said, her voice low and gentle and reassuring.
"It was awful." Harry said, staring into her eyes. Maybe if he stared there, looking down into those clear brown eyes, right down so deep he saw nothing else, he'd wouldn't remember Ron's dying scream, the crumpled pale body. "It was so real, Hermione! What if..what if somehow Voldemort's getting into my dreams?"
"Look, just because magical things do happen doesn't mean everything odd has a magical explanation." Hermione said sensibly. "I know it was a horrible dream, but it was just a dream. And you're worried Voldemort will come back and kill your friends, and that's why you dreamed what you did. Its just psychology, not witch craft."
Harry nodded.
"I thought about that..but, Hermione..my scar." He said in a low urgent whisper. She reached up and pushed his messy black hair aside. Underneath, his scar glowed an angry red-hot. Hermione touched it for a moment, and Harry closed his eyes, her hand a blessed coolness, against the burning of the scar.
"Maybe you should see Dumbledore." She said seriously. Harry nodded in agreement. He'd thought about that, but it was good to have Hermione's agreement. If she didn't think he was over-reacting, then he was probably ok.
"What are you two muttering about?" Ron asked slightly peevishly.
"Who the new Quidditch captain is going to be." Hermione lied smoothly, much to Harry's surprise. "I still can't see why it can't be Harry."
"I told you, it has to be a sixth former." Ron explained, irritated, sighing deeply.
"Why?" Hermione demanded, and Harry grinned. He knew she'd started this argument deliberately to distract Ron, and he was grateful. He followed them bickering all the way down the corridor.
*****************
He told his story again later on, in Dumbledore's office.
"Miss Granger could be right." Dumbledore said. "it could simply be your mind, not Voldemort."
"But sir, my scar..." Harry stammered.
"Yes...have you told Ron what you dreamed?"
"No sir, only Hermione."
"And she suggested you come to me? Good, good. Most perceptive young lady." Dumbledore muttered, almost to himself. "Perceptive and intelligent. You do well to go to her for advice, Harry. Ronald Weasley, while a most engaging young man, does have a slight tendency to panic somewhat, mm?" Dumbledore asked, twinkling slightly. Harry smiled.
"Yes sir."
"Well, my advice to you, is to carry on as normal, and see if the dreams come again..if you can bear it?" he asked, peering at Harry over the top of his glasses.
"I think I must, sir." Harry said bravely, although he didn't feel brave. He felt his stomach sink at the thought of going through the dream again. "If Voldemort is trying to get to me through my dreams, I want to know."
"Good. Very well, dream away, Harry Potter. And do not be afraid. I feel sure that if you, or any of your friends were truly threatened in these dreams, the intelligent Miss Granger and the courageous Mr Weasley would find a way to protect you..no matter how many school rules it broke." He smiled, Harry grinned, and left.
But the reassurance Dumbledore gave him evaporated almost the moment he was out of the room. And as the day wore on, he became more and more apprehensive about the night time. Ron and Hermione, sensing this, stayed with him in the common room. The three of them sat near the fire, trying to teach Hermione the tactics of wizard chess. And the hours still ticked on, and the fire still burnt, and Ron's and Hermione's fun seemed more and more forced, until finally Hermione's eyelids dropped, and she fell asleep curled up by the fire.
"Time for bed." Harry said, trying to sound relaxed and tired, and as if bed was the best place to be right now, not the terrifying ordeal he was imagining.
"I suppose " Ron said, as the clock struck one. Harry draped a blanket over Hermione, lingering to make sure it was wrapped securely round her, lingering to postpone the moment he'd have to close his eyes.
"C'mon'" Ron said sleepily from the stairs. Harry stayed a second, looking at Hermione's face, so peaceful in the firelight. A strand of hair had fallen across her cheek, and Harry pushed it aside, absent-mindedly.
"Harry." She murmured, but her eyes were still closed. She was dreaming.
"Wish me sweet dreams." Harry murmured, his hand resting for a second on her cheek, then wearily he turned away and climbed the stairs.
**********************
At first his dreams were like any other night..Quidditch, his friends, the occasional storybook character, the odd conversation, and subconsciously Harry relaxed.
Then the maze came..dark and harsh and apprehensive. Harry tried not to reach for the cup, but he couldn't hold back. Shaking he looked up, into the face opposite him, so young, so innocent, so alive.
"Ginny!!!" he cried.
