Chapter 1 – The Dream
Harry Potter has had trouble sleeping since as long as he could remember. Dreams had often plagued his subconscious. Most lacked meaning, but some, however had the distinct cutting feeling of pain and evil, suffering and decay. And more often than not, much to his own displeasure, it resulted with Harry waking up drenched in the foul stench of his own sweat. Each night he would unwittingly continue this horrible routine, sleeping uneasily and waking up panting or in some severe cases, screaming, depending on the severity of the dream. All and all, this produced the typical outlook of a worn and tired young man, forever bound to the horrors of his own imagination. This was the Harry that everyone had known since the beginning of their first year. Though it can be said, that as the years progressed, his condition gradually worsened, what with the re-appearance of Voldemort, and his own tragic loss of his godfather Sirius, that even now he could not adequately explain, let alone cope with inside his mind.
Few people had noticed this subtle change within him, perhaps with the exception of Albus Dumbledore, no one had the slightest inkling that there was anything wrong with him at all. And with that, his peers, despite the occasional hero worship, had on average, started to leave him alone. However… things were changing radically for Harry, in ways that served only to confuse him.
Harry was about to begin his sixth year at Hogwarts, still uneasy about the loss of Sirius, and now the more prevalent than ever, return of Lord Voldemort to the terrified wizarding world. It weighed heavily on his conscious, as it was he who had revealed to Dumbledore that Voldemort had returned, and to his credit, received nothing. In addition to this, he felt that with the re-emergence of the Dark Lord, his status as a target for attack had increased ten fold, and given his apparent knowledge of the Order, the wizarding world might well fall should he be captured and interrogated by Death Eaters. Indeed there was great risk in returning to Hogwarts, though he knew it was necessary, for his own personal reasons at least.
It was the night before he was due at platform nine and three quarters that really shook him. He bedded down for the evening as he had usually done, still with his problems bothering him, and as expected, the dreams began again. Nothing was dramatically different about them this night however, just the same as it had been for countless nights before. He beheld in his mind the terrible events that had led to Sirius's death. His own foolishness at wanting to save him with Voldemort on the loose. And hence, the subsequent guilt the followed, issuing him contemptuous self-talk that painfully urged him to atone for all the lives lost because of his actions, by perhaps killing himself.
For too long now he had heard these bad messages, but he'd learned to deal with it. Then all of a sudden, it was different, everything changed… he was no longer visualizing the disturbing events of the previous year, rather, he was now seeing something totally different. A scene, from Hogwarts, yes, he'd seen it before. The Great Hall, meticulously decorated in the four house colors laid before him, all the students, some of the younger he didn't recognize, were seated in anticipation of the teacher's speeches. He saw Professor Dumbledore and McGonagall sitting at the teacher's table as they usually did, and on either side of them, Professors Flitwick, Vector, Snape, Trelawny (who's appearance at the table seemed slightly unusual), Hagrid, Sprout… and someone else, of whom he'd never met. His face (Harry had assumed it was a man) was shrouded by the hood of a sinister looking black traveling cloak, only his mouth being visible, and he didn't appear to be smiling in the charismatic way that the other teachers were. The stranger sat there motionless in Harry's inner eye, for only a moment, as his vision was suddenly swiveled around to see Colin Creevey standing in front of him, brandishing his god forsaken camera in his hands and saying something he couldn't quite understand.
Time then seemed to slow. The excited voices of students and speaking teachers alike began to ebb away into silence, and the general mood of the crowd sparked most suddenly with fear. There was a curious sense of trepidation amongst the multitudes. Anxious faces were turning to each other in fright, and other more curious souls were looking upwards at the bewitched ceiling with held breath.
It was then he heard the sound. A high pitched whistling noise that grew from silence, louder and louder for every moment that passed. It echoed through the Great Hall with an eerie resonance that seemed to radiate tremendous fear throughout the masses of students. The teacher's (as Harry's view swiveled around once more to see) were also panic stricken. Madam Sprout was clutching her ears tightly. Hagrid was trembling uncontrollably. Snape and McGonagall both sat wide eyed in deep thoughts of their own. The unknown teacher, standing stiffly on the spot, held his wand at the ready while Professor Dumbledore, mumbled extremely quickly to himself in what Harry could only have guessed to be an incantation of sorts.
Once again Harry's view turned, this time to the ceiling. It's bewitched nature showed more at this moment than merely the night sky. Speeding overhead were vast numbers of fast flaming objects, their existence only confirmed by the sick trail of black smoke they left behind them, as well as the accompanying whistle that had struck everyone so daftly. Throughout the madness that had flared so suddenly, Harry could discern a few cruelly spoken words, that despite sounding familiar, he couldn't place the speaker at all.
"This is what will become of your world Harry Potter… when you fail!"
And at this message, one of the flaming objects above, fell short and hit the hall, exploding to the sounds of screams both terrified and panicked. And the last thing that Harry saw, was the horrible burning of the hall and everyone in it, before he too was rapidly consumed in flame, and he awoke from his dream, his scar searing as hot as the fire he had imagined in his sleep.
'Oh my God!' Harry whispered fearfully to himself in the half darkness of his room. Haphazardly, he fumbled for his glasses on the nightstand and put them on. He was still in bed at the Dursley's, much to his unusual relief. Things about him seemed normal as he scanned the room for anomalies. His half open trunk was packed and ready with all his manner of magical equipment, and peering quickly at his digital clock, he read to himself, "6.30 am". In a couple of minutes, Aunt Petunia was sure to bang ferociously on his bedroom door, being an early riser as she was. This was to be expected however, as during his holidays he'd convinced his Aunt and Uncle to allow him to use their fireplace for Floo travel to the Weasley's before he was to catch the Hogwarts Express.
He knew it would be a lot easier and downright quicker alternative than the Weasley's having to pick him up, or in the worse case scenario, having the Dursley's themselves drop him off at King's Cross station. It hadn't been easy to convince them though. The Dursley's were still in a state of shock after Mr Weasley's dramatic entrance not that long ago. Half of the room was totally destroyed when he'd blasted through the blockage covering the fireplace.
Vernon specifically said to Harry in no uncertain terms, that if he wanted to use their fireplace for magical travel, then he'd have absolutely no choice but to relinquish some of his own "privileges" as compensation. So eager he was to take up this once in a lifetime offer, Harry quickly accepted without considering the cost. Just what that cost was he soon discovered, when his bedroom window one day, was permanently screwed shut and Hedwig locked up in the garage at night. Uncle Vernon felt this to be a most adequate substitute for his little deal, as in his words;
"This bloody bird has troubled me long enough!" found it's way to Harry's ears. He was certain therefore that he wasn't going to unwittingly sleep in when the day of their deal finally came to pass… So he got up from bed immediately, gathered his trunk and set out into the hall and down the stairs. He wasn't going to be late, not at all.
Sure enough, all the Dursley's were already up, eating breakfast. He wasn't stupid enough to initiate conversation, as with his Floo travel time in only half an hour, he wasn't going to arouse Uncle Vernon's habit of changing his mind at the last minute. Silently, he sat and ate, to the complete ignorance of his Aunt and Uncle. It appeared, that only his cousin had noticed his trunk.
'Dear me,' he began so melodramatically, 'It's that day of the year again isn't it Dad.' Vernon looked up curiously from his coffee, first to Dudley, then to Harry and finally the trunk.
'What in the bloody hell!…' he shouted loudly, making Petunia jump with fright. 'Dam it, I forgot about today. We should be having a celebration right now, not breakfast!' Harry unsurprisingly, was taken completely unaware of Vernon's sudden statement, and without thinking he blurted out;
'Err… why's that?' Vernon looked strangely at Harry for a moment, before clearing his throat to answer.
'I think it's obvious isn't it?! You're leaving today for a whole year, aren't you?! I can hardly contain my excitement. In fact, the sooner I can get you out of my house the better… hey, you can forget breakfast right now boy, you leaving immediately.' And instinctively, Harry dropped the piece of toast just inches from his mouth as Vernon's strong hands gripped him by the shoulder and his trunk along with him. 'Look at this…' Vernon stated again, almost with pride, 'I've been working for some time to get this fireplace ready for you, cleared it out myself.'
Harry wondered briefly what the Weasley's would think if he turned up at their house half an hour early, but he pushed the thought from his mind as he remembered that most horrible dream he'd had, that was still pulsating like a headache in his mind.
'Now… do your stuff!' Vernon commanded as he brought Harry to the fireplace. Fortunately for Harry though, he'd been practicing this moment in his head for weeks, and no sooner than he'd shouted 'THE BURROW', there was green flame and he was whistling his way there at incredible speed. He felt so much elation to finally be returning to the wizarding world. Not only because it felt like his only true home, but also, it provided a place to seek answers, and his dream was what he wanted to raise with Dumbledore immediately. Curious as it was, it didn't feel like any ordinary dream, or anything that was taking place at the particular moment either. And whether that was true or not he wanted to find out. Yes, Dumbledore must know, but something told him that since he knew so little about it, he should not tell anyone else, not yet. And he resided this to himself as he placed one foot out of the fireplace… at the Weasley's.
Harry Potter has had trouble sleeping since as long as he could remember. Dreams had often plagued his subconscious. Most lacked meaning, but some, however had the distinct cutting feeling of pain and evil, suffering and decay. And more often than not, much to his own displeasure, it resulted with Harry waking up drenched in the foul stench of his own sweat. Each night he would unwittingly continue this horrible routine, sleeping uneasily and waking up panting or in some severe cases, screaming, depending on the severity of the dream. All and all, this produced the typical outlook of a worn and tired young man, forever bound to the horrors of his own imagination. This was the Harry that everyone had known since the beginning of their first year. Though it can be said, that as the years progressed, his condition gradually worsened, what with the re-appearance of Voldemort, and his own tragic loss of his godfather Sirius, that even now he could not adequately explain, let alone cope with inside his mind.
Few people had noticed this subtle change within him, perhaps with the exception of Albus Dumbledore, no one had the slightest inkling that there was anything wrong with him at all. And with that, his peers, despite the occasional hero worship, had on average, started to leave him alone. However… things were changing radically for Harry, in ways that served only to confuse him.
Harry was about to begin his sixth year at Hogwarts, still uneasy about the loss of Sirius, and now the more prevalent than ever, return of Lord Voldemort to the terrified wizarding world. It weighed heavily on his conscious, as it was he who had revealed to Dumbledore that Voldemort had returned, and to his credit, received nothing. In addition to this, he felt that with the re-emergence of the Dark Lord, his status as a target for attack had increased ten fold, and given his apparent knowledge of the Order, the wizarding world might well fall should he be captured and interrogated by Death Eaters. Indeed there was great risk in returning to Hogwarts, though he knew it was necessary, for his own personal reasons at least.
It was the night before he was due at platform nine and three quarters that really shook him. He bedded down for the evening as he had usually done, still with his problems bothering him, and as expected, the dreams began again. Nothing was dramatically different about them this night however, just the same as it had been for countless nights before. He beheld in his mind the terrible events that had led to Sirius's death. His own foolishness at wanting to save him with Voldemort on the loose. And hence, the subsequent guilt the followed, issuing him contemptuous self-talk that painfully urged him to atone for all the lives lost because of his actions, by perhaps killing himself.
For too long now he had heard these bad messages, but he'd learned to deal with it. Then all of a sudden, it was different, everything changed… he was no longer visualizing the disturbing events of the previous year, rather, he was now seeing something totally different. A scene, from Hogwarts, yes, he'd seen it before. The Great Hall, meticulously decorated in the four house colors laid before him, all the students, some of the younger he didn't recognize, were seated in anticipation of the teacher's speeches. He saw Professor Dumbledore and McGonagall sitting at the teacher's table as they usually did, and on either side of them, Professors Flitwick, Vector, Snape, Trelawny (who's appearance at the table seemed slightly unusual), Hagrid, Sprout… and someone else, of whom he'd never met. His face (Harry had assumed it was a man) was shrouded by the hood of a sinister looking black traveling cloak, only his mouth being visible, and he didn't appear to be smiling in the charismatic way that the other teachers were. The stranger sat there motionless in Harry's inner eye, for only a moment, as his vision was suddenly swiveled around to see Colin Creevey standing in front of him, brandishing his god forsaken camera in his hands and saying something he couldn't quite understand.
Time then seemed to slow. The excited voices of students and speaking teachers alike began to ebb away into silence, and the general mood of the crowd sparked most suddenly with fear. There was a curious sense of trepidation amongst the multitudes. Anxious faces were turning to each other in fright, and other more curious souls were looking upwards at the bewitched ceiling with held breath.
It was then he heard the sound. A high pitched whistling noise that grew from silence, louder and louder for every moment that passed. It echoed through the Great Hall with an eerie resonance that seemed to radiate tremendous fear throughout the masses of students. The teacher's (as Harry's view swiveled around once more to see) were also panic stricken. Madam Sprout was clutching her ears tightly. Hagrid was trembling uncontrollably. Snape and McGonagall both sat wide eyed in deep thoughts of their own. The unknown teacher, standing stiffly on the spot, held his wand at the ready while Professor Dumbledore, mumbled extremely quickly to himself in what Harry could only have guessed to be an incantation of sorts.
Once again Harry's view turned, this time to the ceiling. It's bewitched nature showed more at this moment than merely the night sky. Speeding overhead were vast numbers of fast flaming objects, their existence only confirmed by the sick trail of black smoke they left behind them, as well as the accompanying whistle that had struck everyone so daftly. Throughout the madness that had flared so suddenly, Harry could discern a few cruelly spoken words, that despite sounding familiar, he couldn't place the speaker at all.
"This is what will become of your world Harry Potter… when you fail!"
And at this message, one of the flaming objects above, fell short and hit the hall, exploding to the sounds of screams both terrified and panicked. And the last thing that Harry saw, was the horrible burning of the hall and everyone in it, before he too was rapidly consumed in flame, and he awoke from his dream, his scar searing as hot as the fire he had imagined in his sleep.
'Oh my God!' Harry whispered fearfully to himself in the half darkness of his room. Haphazardly, he fumbled for his glasses on the nightstand and put them on. He was still in bed at the Dursley's, much to his unusual relief. Things about him seemed normal as he scanned the room for anomalies. His half open trunk was packed and ready with all his manner of magical equipment, and peering quickly at his digital clock, he read to himself, "6.30 am". In a couple of minutes, Aunt Petunia was sure to bang ferociously on his bedroom door, being an early riser as she was. This was to be expected however, as during his holidays he'd convinced his Aunt and Uncle to allow him to use their fireplace for Floo travel to the Weasley's before he was to catch the Hogwarts Express.
He knew it would be a lot easier and downright quicker alternative than the Weasley's having to pick him up, or in the worse case scenario, having the Dursley's themselves drop him off at King's Cross station. It hadn't been easy to convince them though. The Dursley's were still in a state of shock after Mr Weasley's dramatic entrance not that long ago. Half of the room was totally destroyed when he'd blasted through the blockage covering the fireplace.
Vernon specifically said to Harry in no uncertain terms, that if he wanted to use their fireplace for magical travel, then he'd have absolutely no choice but to relinquish some of his own "privileges" as compensation. So eager he was to take up this once in a lifetime offer, Harry quickly accepted without considering the cost. Just what that cost was he soon discovered, when his bedroom window one day, was permanently screwed shut and Hedwig locked up in the garage at night. Uncle Vernon felt this to be a most adequate substitute for his little deal, as in his words;
"This bloody bird has troubled me long enough!" found it's way to Harry's ears. He was certain therefore that he wasn't going to unwittingly sleep in when the day of their deal finally came to pass… So he got up from bed immediately, gathered his trunk and set out into the hall and down the stairs. He wasn't going to be late, not at all.
Sure enough, all the Dursley's were already up, eating breakfast. He wasn't stupid enough to initiate conversation, as with his Floo travel time in only half an hour, he wasn't going to arouse Uncle Vernon's habit of changing his mind at the last minute. Silently, he sat and ate, to the complete ignorance of his Aunt and Uncle. It appeared, that only his cousin had noticed his trunk.
'Dear me,' he began so melodramatically, 'It's that day of the year again isn't it Dad.' Vernon looked up curiously from his coffee, first to Dudley, then to Harry and finally the trunk.
'What in the bloody hell!…' he shouted loudly, making Petunia jump with fright. 'Dam it, I forgot about today. We should be having a celebration right now, not breakfast!' Harry unsurprisingly, was taken completely unaware of Vernon's sudden statement, and without thinking he blurted out;
'Err… why's that?' Vernon looked strangely at Harry for a moment, before clearing his throat to answer.
'I think it's obvious isn't it?! You're leaving today for a whole year, aren't you?! I can hardly contain my excitement. In fact, the sooner I can get you out of my house the better… hey, you can forget breakfast right now boy, you leaving immediately.' And instinctively, Harry dropped the piece of toast just inches from his mouth as Vernon's strong hands gripped him by the shoulder and his trunk along with him. 'Look at this…' Vernon stated again, almost with pride, 'I've been working for some time to get this fireplace ready for you, cleared it out myself.'
Harry wondered briefly what the Weasley's would think if he turned up at their house half an hour early, but he pushed the thought from his mind as he remembered that most horrible dream he'd had, that was still pulsating like a headache in his mind.
'Now… do your stuff!' Vernon commanded as he brought Harry to the fireplace. Fortunately for Harry though, he'd been practicing this moment in his head for weeks, and no sooner than he'd shouted 'THE BURROW', there was green flame and he was whistling his way there at incredible speed. He felt so much elation to finally be returning to the wizarding world. Not only because it felt like his only true home, but also, it provided a place to seek answers, and his dream was what he wanted to raise with Dumbledore immediately. Curious as it was, it didn't feel like any ordinary dream, or anything that was taking place at the particular moment either. And whether that was true or not he wanted to find out. Yes, Dumbledore must know, but something told him that since he knew so little about it, he should not tell anyone else, not yet. And he resided this to himself as he placed one foot out of the fireplace… at the Weasley's.