~10~
Harry's stomach became unsettled with a cold nausea. All of the candles went out with Voldemort's laugh, making it even darker than it had already been.
The trees could barely be made out, the only thing Harry could see clearly was Voldemort's pale, evil face glowing in the smothering dark.
The Dark Lord raised his eerie thin hand and outstretched his long fingers towards Harry's head, smiling as to reveal his wicked intentions. His hand outstretched began slashing slowly down Harry's forehead, to intensify the pain to an unbearable degree. Voldemort's fingernails tore at Harry's skin.
Harry found himself unable to move. Flecks of blood clouded his glasses first, but then, his blood flowed down his face in streams, getting into his eyes.
Harry continually blinked to get the blood out, but more and more rushed downward. He squeezed them shut as the blood kept gushing and screamed out in horror, pain, and helplessness.
"Harry, HARRY! What is wrong??" Harry opened his eyes.
The trees outside were tranquilly swaying with the warm summer breeze. Voldemort wasn't in sight. His scar still pained him slightly, but it was nothing compared to what he had just experienced. Harry put his hand to his forehead, it was perfectly intact, besides his usual scar. He had been dreaming.
He turned around to face Mrs. Figg, who was sitting up straight, eyes wide in concern. "Nothing, nothing, I just had a dream," Harry knew it was just a dream, well a nightmare, but it had felt so real. He shut the window in frustration, and locked it just to be sure.
"Voldemort? I feel a dark presence in this village. Though, I doubt it that- " she was interrupted by a hurried ringing of a bell downstairs. Mrs. Figg pressed her finger to her pursed lips and stepped gently out of bed.
The usually creaky floor made no sound under her weight. She opened the door with ease so that a crack allowed her to peek downstairs. Mrs. Figg shut the door quickly and spun around, locking it shut behind her.
Pulling her deep purple cloak over her nightdress, she flicked her want to magick some Floo Powder from a dish into the flames of the already burning fire. The fire turned into light green dancing flames.
Harry's trunk appeared in the fireplace and she rushed Harry himself into it himself. "Go to the Burrow, I'll be right here after you," she hurriedly instructed him, her hands frantically shewing him.
Just as he shouted "The Burrow!", he saw a glimpse of the door being broke through by tall figures in dark robes, covering their faces. Mrs. Figg turned her head, and then Harry was rushing through a whirl of green flames and fireplaces, elbows tucked in tightly at his sides, his trunk wobbling slightly at his side.
Harry's stomach became unsettled with a cold nausea. All of the candles went out with Voldemort's laugh, making it even darker than it had already been.
The trees could barely be made out, the only thing Harry could see clearly was Voldemort's pale, evil face glowing in the smothering dark.
The Dark Lord raised his eerie thin hand and outstretched his long fingers towards Harry's head, smiling as to reveal his wicked intentions. His hand outstretched began slashing slowly down Harry's forehead, to intensify the pain to an unbearable degree. Voldemort's fingernails tore at Harry's skin.
Harry found himself unable to move. Flecks of blood clouded his glasses first, but then, his blood flowed down his face in streams, getting into his eyes.
Harry continually blinked to get the blood out, but more and more rushed downward. He squeezed them shut as the blood kept gushing and screamed out in horror, pain, and helplessness.
"Harry, HARRY! What is wrong??" Harry opened his eyes.
The trees outside were tranquilly swaying with the warm summer breeze. Voldemort wasn't in sight. His scar still pained him slightly, but it was nothing compared to what he had just experienced. Harry put his hand to his forehead, it was perfectly intact, besides his usual scar. He had been dreaming.
He turned around to face Mrs. Figg, who was sitting up straight, eyes wide in concern. "Nothing, nothing, I just had a dream," Harry knew it was just a dream, well a nightmare, but it had felt so real. He shut the window in frustration, and locked it just to be sure.
"Voldemort? I feel a dark presence in this village. Though, I doubt it that- " she was interrupted by a hurried ringing of a bell downstairs. Mrs. Figg pressed her finger to her pursed lips and stepped gently out of bed.
The usually creaky floor made no sound under her weight. She opened the door with ease so that a crack allowed her to peek downstairs. Mrs. Figg shut the door quickly and spun around, locking it shut behind her.
Pulling her deep purple cloak over her nightdress, she flicked her want to magick some Floo Powder from a dish into the flames of the already burning fire. The fire turned into light green dancing flames.
Harry's trunk appeared in the fireplace and she rushed Harry himself into it himself. "Go to the Burrow, I'll be right here after you," she hurriedly instructed him, her hands frantically shewing him.
Just as he shouted "The Burrow!", he saw a glimpse of the door being broke through by tall figures in dark robes, covering their faces. Mrs. Figg turned her head, and then Harry was rushing through a whirl of green flames and fireplaces, elbows tucked in tightly at his sides, his trunk wobbling slightly at his side.