Chapter One
Nightmare on Privet Drive
It was a cold, dark night on Privet Drive. Every house was pitch black, except for one room in number 4. Inside the bedroom, there was a scrawny looking boy with extremely untidy hair. He also had glasses, but his scrawniness was not what made him different, it was the lightning shaped scar on his forehead that made him unique. His name was Harry Potter and he is 16 years old.
Harry was sitting at his desk opposite to the one window in his small room. On the desk was his History of Magic book, a piece of parchment paper, a feather quill, and ink. Even though Harry was much too preoccupied with other things, he had to concentrate on getting his schoolwork finished, and he had to be careful not to wake the Dursleys. Come on Harry, he thought to himself, concentrate on your work, don't think about him.
Harry looked at his blank piece of parchment and then to his History of magic book and back again. There were two weeks left in summer vacation and Harry had been moping through most of it. What he wouldn't give to know what Ron and Hermione were doing right now, to be with them, to talking them, to see them. Every time he thought about them, his heart started to ache, it was just too much. He thought about his friends, Hogwarts, he even thought about his enemies.
Harry finally started to read his History of Magic book. When he was finished with the first paragraph, he realized how tired he really was. His eyes closed, he laid his head down on the desk and went to sleep.
He was at Hogwarts, as happy as could be. He saw Ron and Hermione; they smiled and waved and then suddenly put their heads down and walked away. Harry was confused. It seemed that every time he saw someone that he knew, the just wouldn't look at him. When he finally met Dumbledore, he, Harry, pulled out his wand, as did Dumbledore.
"I warned you Tom," Dumbledore said with a smirk on his face, almost like Snape's, "I warned you not to come here."
"Even if you did warn me Dumbledore," said a cold voice so unlike Harry's, "I would've come anyway, you know that."
"I do," said Dumbledore, his smile getting wider, "but I do hope that you are prepared for the consequences." "I've never felt more prepared in my life," the cold voice said.
Dumbledore opened his mouth to say an incantation, but Harry was too fast for him. Avada Kedavra! As Harry yelled this, a green jet of light came out of his wand and hit Dumbledore right in the chest, then Dumbledore, the greatest wizard of all, fell to the ground.
Harry woke up to his own screaming that was so loud it could've waked the entire street up. He found him self on the floor drenched with sweat, looking into the confused faces of the Dursleys. They looked around the room to see if there had been a thief or some sort of criminal. But when they did not see anything, they all stared back at Harry who felt very weak, and just wanted to stay on the ground and go back to sleep. If only his scar would stop hurting. The dream of Harry's was so real, and yet, he thought, that could never happen.
"What's going on boy?" Uncle Vernon asked with a stunned look on his face. Apparently he was very surprised to see that Harry was on the floor panting, but more surprised to see that he was still alive. His scream was so ear piercing that cats outside ran underneath cars.
"It's nothing," Harry said, trying to get up, "nothing, I just had a nightmare that's all."
To Harry's shock, Uncle Vernon helped him up, and examined him as if checking for fleas or ticks. When he was satisfied that Harry was "tick free", he began to stare at Harry again.
"IM FINE!" Harry yelled, "You can all just go back to sleep now, there's nothing wrong with me."
Once the Dursleys had left the room, Harry went over to the door shut it, and locked it. He turned around and looked at his room. He ha knocked over all of his school things. There was ink on the floor, his parchment was in pieces, and his feather quill was in two. Harry was exhausted, but he didn't know if he should go back to sleep, and he wasn't sure if that dream was just a dream or if it was another one of his visions.
After pacing for a while in his room, Harry was too tired to think anymore, and (even thought he was afraid to) went back to sleep.
Nightmare on Privet Drive
It was a cold, dark night on Privet Drive. Every house was pitch black, except for one room in number 4. Inside the bedroom, there was a scrawny looking boy with extremely untidy hair. He also had glasses, but his scrawniness was not what made him different, it was the lightning shaped scar on his forehead that made him unique. His name was Harry Potter and he is 16 years old.
Harry was sitting at his desk opposite to the one window in his small room. On the desk was his History of Magic book, a piece of parchment paper, a feather quill, and ink. Even though Harry was much too preoccupied with other things, he had to concentrate on getting his schoolwork finished, and he had to be careful not to wake the Dursleys. Come on Harry, he thought to himself, concentrate on your work, don't think about him.
Harry looked at his blank piece of parchment and then to his History of magic book and back again. There were two weeks left in summer vacation and Harry had been moping through most of it. What he wouldn't give to know what Ron and Hermione were doing right now, to be with them, to talking them, to see them. Every time he thought about them, his heart started to ache, it was just too much. He thought about his friends, Hogwarts, he even thought about his enemies.
Harry finally started to read his History of Magic book. When he was finished with the first paragraph, he realized how tired he really was. His eyes closed, he laid his head down on the desk and went to sleep.
He was at Hogwarts, as happy as could be. He saw Ron and Hermione; they smiled and waved and then suddenly put their heads down and walked away. Harry was confused. It seemed that every time he saw someone that he knew, the just wouldn't look at him. When he finally met Dumbledore, he, Harry, pulled out his wand, as did Dumbledore.
"I warned you Tom," Dumbledore said with a smirk on his face, almost like Snape's, "I warned you not to come here."
"Even if you did warn me Dumbledore," said a cold voice so unlike Harry's, "I would've come anyway, you know that."
"I do," said Dumbledore, his smile getting wider, "but I do hope that you are prepared for the consequences." "I've never felt more prepared in my life," the cold voice said.
Dumbledore opened his mouth to say an incantation, but Harry was too fast for him. Avada Kedavra! As Harry yelled this, a green jet of light came out of his wand and hit Dumbledore right in the chest, then Dumbledore, the greatest wizard of all, fell to the ground.
Harry woke up to his own screaming that was so loud it could've waked the entire street up. He found him self on the floor drenched with sweat, looking into the confused faces of the Dursleys. They looked around the room to see if there had been a thief or some sort of criminal. But when they did not see anything, they all stared back at Harry who felt very weak, and just wanted to stay on the ground and go back to sleep. If only his scar would stop hurting. The dream of Harry's was so real, and yet, he thought, that could never happen.
"What's going on boy?" Uncle Vernon asked with a stunned look on his face. Apparently he was very surprised to see that Harry was on the floor panting, but more surprised to see that he was still alive. His scream was so ear piercing that cats outside ran underneath cars.
"It's nothing," Harry said, trying to get up, "nothing, I just had a nightmare that's all."
To Harry's shock, Uncle Vernon helped him up, and examined him as if checking for fleas or ticks. When he was satisfied that Harry was "tick free", he began to stare at Harry again.
"IM FINE!" Harry yelled, "You can all just go back to sleep now, there's nothing wrong with me."
Once the Dursleys had left the room, Harry went over to the door shut it, and locked it. He turned around and looked at his room. He ha knocked over all of his school things. There was ink on the floor, his parchment was in pieces, and his feather quill was in two. Harry was exhausted, but he didn't know if he should go back to sleep, and he wasn't sure if that dream was just a dream or if it was another one of his visions.
After pacing for a while in his room, Harry was too tired to think anymore, and (even thought he was afraid to) went back to sleep.