Another Dream
"Did you honestly think you could do this without me?" said a voice.
"Forgive me, Master, please I knew not.," said Harry in tears. Bowing down he saw a grave out of the corner of his eye.
"I have told you time and again Tom," continued the voice coldly, "without me you are nothing but a feared name. Your little shin-ding at the Ministry was disgusting. Not only did you show yourself to that idiot Fudge, but also you lost many of your cute little Death-Eaters. And for what? A stupid prophecy. What were you thinking?"
"Well, I.er.." stammered Harry. Looking up at the man he was surprised at his appearance: the man had a long silver beard and his eyes seemed to.twinkle. He seemed to be enjoying himself.
"Be quiet Tom," the man said simply, "I know your reason. Remember? I am a part of you. I know you better than you know yourself. You thought with Harry Potter out of the way you could do it without me. Didn't you? Well, let me remind you why it is me that you serve.
Miles away, the boy named Harry Potter awoke, sweating. Harry scrambled around in bed for his glasses. He found them, put them on, and immediately his thoughts fell back on his dream. It was so real. Not that it was a first. He was half used these kind of dreams. But this dream had something different. He rubbed his hurting scar. Who was that man standing before him that with only the sound of his voice could put so much terror in the darkest wizard of all time? Yes, he thought, this was something happening to Voldemort. He felt Voldemort's fear, he cried Voldemort's tears in his dream, not that he felt very sorry for him. Lord Voldemort murdered Harry's parents when he was just a baby. Then when he tried to put the same curse on Harry, he failed. The curse rebounded, leaving Harry with a lightning bolt scar, and almost killing Voldemort. Barely alive, he fled; leaving young Harry stuck with his dreadful Aunt and Uncle Dursley and their (not-really-better-but-oh-well-that's-life-and-you- have-to learn- deal-with-it) son, Dudley. But still, Harry wondered. The man's face was leaving Harry's memory, but Harry remembered thinking he looked so familiar.
"Maybe I should write to Siri--," Harry began, then stopped, "(sigh) Sirius." His dear godfather, who he loved more than anyone he can remember, was murdered by his own cousin. He remembered his godfather (as much as it hurt thinking about him) and he realized that he didn't know him that long. Two years. That was all that he knew Sirius. He swore to himself that someday he would avenge his murder. Sirius was the closest thing to a parent he ever knew. Suddenly, his scar felt like it was bursting open. Like fire, pain consumed him. It was like he was being stabbed all over, again and again with knives. He screamed loudly, not really caring who was listening. This was it, he was going to die here. Then, just as suddenly as it came, the pain was gone. He sat up, twitching slightly. He was surprised to see his Aunt and Uncle, both in pajamas, looking horrified. His uncle was carrying a large baseball bat.
"What the heck is the matter with you, boy?!" said his Uncle Vernon looking rather scandalized. Harry could see his Aunt Petunia trying (not succeeding) to wrestle her massive son Dudley out of the room. His Uncle Vernon went on, "Waking everyone up in the middle of the night, yelling like some sort of madman! What's the heck is the matter with you?!"
"I...er.had a bad dream," said Harry; glad he could think of an excuse so quickly. "Sorry," he added.
"Sorry, hmph," he scoffed, "wakes everyone up in the middle of the night and all he can say is sorry. I should." and on he mumbled as he led everyone out of the room and slammed the door a little harder than was necessary.
Immediately after they left Harry recognized the pain for what it was. "The Cruciatus Curse!" he thought. "Wait that would mean someone was using it on Voldemort. Slowly, he put two and two together. "The man from the dream!" He tried to recollect what the man looked like, but somehow he could not. In his opinion this definitely merited writing to someone but then he remembered that Hedwig was out hunting. "Oh well," he thought, disappointed. "I guess I should leave it for tomorrow." He yawned, removed his glasses, rolled over back in bed and fell into an uneasy sleep.
Harry woke up the next morning feeling rested. At first, he wasn't sure what woke him until he felt his snowy owl Hedwig sitting on his stomach. "Hi girl," he said. She hooted softly and held out her leg. Harry noticed there was a letter there. He took it off; then scratched Hedwig gently on the head. She ruffled her wings importantly then flew and perched herself on her cage, where she closed her eyes and looked ready for a well deserved rest. Harry opened the letter. It was in very neat handwriting he did not recognize that read:
Hi Harry,
I bet you're wondering who is writing to you. ("Must be a mind reader," thought Harry.) Well, don't worry it's just Ginny. So how was your time with the Dursley's? Wait don't tell me. Miserable. ("Definitely a mind reader.") Don't feel so bad, were going to get you tomorrow, or today, depending when you get this. You just be ready, okay? See you then!
Your Friend, Ginny Weasley P.S. Happy Birthday!!
Happy Birthday? Harry looked at his watch. "Wow," he thought. He had been sixteen (without knowing it) for almost 10 hours. He got out of bed, put on his glasses, and walked downstairs. When he got to the kitchen he saw his Aunt Petunia taking various fruits out of the refrigerator, Dudley absorbed in his little electronic game, and his Uncle Vernon behind his newspaper holding a cup of coffee. None of them even looked up as he arrived. Then Uncle Vernon heard Harry and looked up. He scoffed when he saw him. "The dream!" Harry just remembered. He ran back upstairs. He could have sworn he heard his Uncle Vernon call him "barking mad."
Halfway up the stairs, a loud CRACK broke the silence like a gunshot. Harry heard a familiar voice call out his name.
"Harry!" said the voice.
Harry ran back downstairs, past his furious uncle who was asking for a baseball bat. When he turned into the living room he saw Fred and George.
"Hiya Harry," said Fred brightly.
"Hello," said Harry, "what's going on?"
"We just wanted to be sure you were here," said George. He turned to face the fireplace. "Reducto!" he said pointing his wand to the reboarded fireplace. The boards broke and fell.
"You again?!" came the voice of his uncle from the living room entrance. "Get out!" he said, baseball bat raised.
"Sure thing," said Fred, "just not without Harry."
"My things," said Harry, "they're still up in my room."
"We'll get them," said George, throwing a handful of powder into the already lit fireplace. The flames turned emerald green. Before Harry could even get used to the flash of green flame, Ginny Weasley came dashing out.
"Fred, George!," she said panicking, "get back to the Burrow they're being attacked!" She then collapsed to the floor. Harry immediately bent down to help her.
"Damn," George cursed, "Dumbledore knew this would happen." Fred then put out the flames with his wand and said quickly:
"Take care of her Harry. As soon as we leave, write to Dumbledore. Tell him about the attack, okay?" He turned to George, "Lets go." George nodded and before Harry could say anything, they disapparated.
Harry's mind began to race. "What's going on?! An attack? At the Burrow? Weren't they all at Grimmauld Place?" He continued to examine Ginny. There didn't seem to be anything physically wrong with her. He turned to face his relatives, all of whom seemed lost for words.
"Dudley," he said "help me lift her on the sofa."
Dudley seemed like he would like more than anything to run away, but surprisingly he complied. Without argument he helped Harry lift her on the sofa. Harry propped her head on a pillow as Dudley then ran out of the living room as if it were going to explode. To his extreme surprise, his Aunt Petunia spoke up.
"Is she all right?" she asked timidly.
"I think so," said Harry wishing he could be surer. He looked at his Uncle. He seemed more than anything to want to protest, but given the circumstances he remained silent and contented himself by shooting nasty looks at Harry and Ginny.
"I'll be right back," said Harry. He dashed upstairs to his room. He pulled out a quill and some parchment. He began to write:
Professor Dumbledore, There's been an attack at the Burrow. I have no idea who or what attacked but Ginny's here with me.
Harry
That was it. Harry saw no point in adding his dream. It seemed to him that everyone would be worried enough. He nudged his sleeping owl. "Hedwig," he said softly to her. She woke up. When she noticed the letter in his hand she held out her leg. "This is for Dumbledore," said Harry, "please find him." She hooted reassuringly. He watched her take flight. The sky outside was cloudy and gray. It seemed like it was going to rain. He remembered Ginny was downstairs so he left his room.
When he got to the living room the strangest sight met his eyes. His aunt was placing a damp towel on Ginny's forehead. His Aunt Petunia? For a moment their eyes locked on each other. He tried to understand the look she was giving him. It was neither angry nor upset. Then again it wasn't happy or smiling. He just could not understand the look she was giving him.
"Thanks," said Harry weakly. She smiled placidly and walked off. She smiled? At Harry? Somehow this didn't make sense. He sat next to where Ginny lay and began to contemplate this.
"Did you honestly think you could do this without me?" said a voice.
"Forgive me, Master, please I knew not.," said Harry in tears. Bowing down he saw a grave out of the corner of his eye.
"I have told you time and again Tom," continued the voice coldly, "without me you are nothing but a feared name. Your little shin-ding at the Ministry was disgusting. Not only did you show yourself to that idiot Fudge, but also you lost many of your cute little Death-Eaters. And for what? A stupid prophecy. What were you thinking?"
"Well, I.er.." stammered Harry. Looking up at the man he was surprised at his appearance: the man had a long silver beard and his eyes seemed to.twinkle. He seemed to be enjoying himself.
"Be quiet Tom," the man said simply, "I know your reason. Remember? I am a part of you. I know you better than you know yourself. You thought with Harry Potter out of the way you could do it without me. Didn't you? Well, let me remind you why it is me that you serve.
Miles away, the boy named Harry Potter awoke, sweating. Harry scrambled around in bed for his glasses. He found them, put them on, and immediately his thoughts fell back on his dream. It was so real. Not that it was a first. He was half used these kind of dreams. But this dream had something different. He rubbed his hurting scar. Who was that man standing before him that with only the sound of his voice could put so much terror in the darkest wizard of all time? Yes, he thought, this was something happening to Voldemort. He felt Voldemort's fear, he cried Voldemort's tears in his dream, not that he felt very sorry for him. Lord Voldemort murdered Harry's parents when he was just a baby. Then when he tried to put the same curse on Harry, he failed. The curse rebounded, leaving Harry with a lightning bolt scar, and almost killing Voldemort. Barely alive, he fled; leaving young Harry stuck with his dreadful Aunt and Uncle Dursley and their (not-really-better-but-oh-well-that's-life-and-you- have-to learn- deal-with-it) son, Dudley. But still, Harry wondered. The man's face was leaving Harry's memory, but Harry remembered thinking he looked so familiar.
"Maybe I should write to Siri--," Harry began, then stopped, "(sigh) Sirius." His dear godfather, who he loved more than anyone he can remember, was murdered by his own cousin. He remembered his godfather (as much as it hurt thinking about him) and he realized that he didn't know him that long. Two years. That was all that he knew Sirius. He swore to himself that someday he would avenge his murder. Sirius was the closest thing to a parent he ever knew. Suddenly, his scar felt like it was bursting open. Like fire, pain consumed him. It was like he was being stabbed all over, again and again with knives. He screamed loudly, not really caring who was listening. This was it, he was going to die here. Then, just as suddenly as it came, the pain was gone. He sat up, twitching slightly. He was surprised to see his Aunt and Uncle, both in pajamas, looking horrified. His uncle was carrying a large baseball bat.
"What the heck is the matter with you, boy?!" said his Uncle Vernon looking rather scandalized. Harry could see his Aunt Petunia trying (not succeeding) to wrestle her massive son Dudley out of the room. His Uncle Vernon went on, "Waking everyone up in the middle of the night, yelling like some sort of madman! What's the heck is the matter with you?!"
"I...er.had a bad dream," said Harry; glad he could think of an excuse so quickly. "Sorry," he added.
"Sorry, hmph," he scoffed, "wakes everyone up in the middle of the night and all he can say is sorry. I should." and on he mumbled as he led everyone out of the room and slammed the door a little harder than was necessary.
Immediately after they left Harry recognized the pain for what it was. "The Cruciatus Curse!" he thought. "Wait that would mean someone was using it on Voldemort. Slowly, he put two and two together. "The man from the dream!" He tried to recollect what the man looked like, but somehow he could not. In his opinion this definitely merited writing to someone but then he remembered that Hedwig was out hunting. "Oh well," he thought, disappointed. "I guess I should leave it for tomorrow." He yawned, removed his glasses, rolled over back in bed and fell into an uneasy sleep.
Harry woke up the next morning feeling rested. At first, he wasn't sure what woke him until he felt his snowy owl Hedwig sitting on his stomach. "Hi girl," he said. She hooted softly and held out her leg. Harry noticed there was a letter there. He took it off; then scratched Hedwig gently on the head. She ruffled her wings importantly then flew and perched herself on her cage, where she closed her eyes and looked ready for a well deserved rest. Harry opened the letter. It was in very neat handwriting he did not recognize that read:
Hi Harry,
I bet you're wondering who is writing to you. ("Must be a mind reader," thought Harry.) Well, don't worry it's just Ginny. So how was your time with the Dursley's? Wait don't tell me. Miserable. ("Definitely a mind reader.") Don't feel so bad, were going to get you tomorrow, or today, depending when you get this. You just be ready, okay? See you then!
Your Friend, Ginny Weasley P.S. Happy Birthday!!
Happy Birthday? Harry looked at his watch. "Wow," he thought. He had been sixteen (without knowing it) for almost 10 hours. He got out of bed, put on his glasses, and walked downstairs. When he got to the kitchen he saw his Aunt Petunia taking various fruits out of the refrigerator, Dudley absorbed in his little electronic game, and his Uncle Vernon behind his newspaper holding a cup of coffee. None of them even looked up as he arrived. Then Uncle Vernon heard Harry and looked up. He scoffed when he saw him. "The dream!" Harry just remembered. He ran back upstairs. He could have sworn he heard his Uncle Vernon call him "barking mad."
Halfway up the stairs, a loud CRACK broke the silence like a gunshot. Harry heard a familiar voice call out his name.
"Harry!" said the voice.
Harry ran back downstairs, past his furious uncle who was asking for a baseball bat. When he turned into the living room he saw Fred and George.
"Hiya Harry," said Fred brightly.
"Hello," said Harry, "what's going on?"
"We just wanted to be sure you were here," said George. He turned to face the fireplace. "Reducto!" he said pointing his wand to the reboarded fireplace. The boards broke and fell.
"You again?!" came the voice of his uncle from the living room entrance. "Get out!" he said, baseball bat raised.
"Sure thing," said Fred, "just not without Harry."
"My things," said Harry, "they're still up in my room."
"We'll get them," said George, throwing a handful of powder into the already lit fireplace. The flames turned emerald green. Before Harry could even get used to the flash of green flame, Ginny Weasley came dashing out.
"Fred, George!," she said panicking, "get back to the Burrow they're being attacked!" She then collapsed to the floor. Harry immediately bent down to help her.
"Damn," George cursed, "Dumbledore knew this would happen." Fred then put out the flames with his wand and said quickly:
"Take care of her Harry. As soon as we leave, write to Dumbledore. Tell him about the attack, okay?" He turned to George, "Lets go." George nodded and before Harry could say anything, they disapparated.
Harry's mind began to race. "What's going on?! An attack? At the Burrow? Weren't they all at Grimmauld Place?" He continued to examine Ginny. There didn't seem to be anything physically wrong with her. He turned to face his relatives, all of whom seemed lost for words.
"Dudley," he said "help me lift her on the sofa."
Dudley seemed like he would like more than anything to run away, but surprisingly he complied. Without argument he helped Harry lift her on the sofa. Harry propped her head on a pillow as Dudley then ran out of the living room as if it were going to explode. To his extreme surprise, his Aunt Petunia spoke up.
"Is she all right?" she asked timidly.
"I think so," said Harry wishing he could be surer. He looked at his Uncle. He seemed more than anything to want to protest, but given the circumstances he remained silent and contented himself by shooting nasty looks at Harry and Ginny.
"I'll be right back," said Harry. He dashed upstairs to his room. He pulled out a quill and some parchment. He began to write:
Professor Dumbledore, There's been an attack at the Burrow. I have no idea who or what attacked but Ginny's here with me.
Harry
That was it. Harry saw no point in adding his dream. It seemed to him that everyone would be worried enough. He nudged his sleeping owl. "Hedwig," he said softly to her. She woke up. When she noticed the letter in his hand she held out her leg. "This is for Dumbledore," said Harry, "please find him." She hooted reassuringly. He watched her take flight. The sky outside was cloudy and gray. It seemed like it was going to rain. He remembered Ginny was downstairs so he left his room.
When he got to the living room the strangest sight met his eyes. His aunt was placing a damp towel on Ginny's forehead. His Aunt Petunia? For a moment their eyes locked on each other. He tried to understand the look she was giving him. It was neither angry nor upset. Then again it wasn't happy or smiling. He just could not understand the look she was giving him.
"Thanks," said Harry weakly. She smiled placidly and walked off. She smiled? At Harry? Somehow this didn't make sense. He sat next to where Ginny lay and began to contemplate this.