A/N: Woah...I haven't updated this fic in so long, and seeing as Prizoner of Azkaban just came out...34 minutes ago since I started this chapter, I saw it fitting to get back into that lovely Harry Potter spirit and write it out...I can tell this'll be a long fic...only ther's gonna be some short chapters in the near futire...Enjoy! .
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Harry slid down to his knees and grasped at his forehead. Oddly, and yet not enough, his scar was burning white hot. Tears were gathering at his eyes now, and he hadn't the faintest why, at the mere mention of Voldemort, his scar burned. His eyes shut tightly as if it was a normal routine, and he coughed out a hard choking gasp as if he was really crying; though he was not.
Ron and Hermione only ran faster up to Harry, who they had just seen fall to his knees and clutch at his forehead, then look as though he had commenced in crying.
"Harry!" Ron grabbed his friend's shoulder and shook him slightly. Harry still held his head and let out another cry, this time tears were really streaming down his face. Then, total blackness encased him.
Hermione's eyes widened, "Go fetch Madame Pomfrey! GO!" Ron nodded and spun around, running as quick as his Weasley legs could carry, slipping almost halfway down the hall.
"Harry...Harry!" Hermione bent down and then sat beside her friend, worried expression on her face. She swallowed hard, intently looking down at Harry, who's expression was as equally worried as hers. Hermione tilted her head. "Odd..."
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Harry was in a state of dreaming. He was neither standing nor sitting, he was merely floating. Floating in darkness; a shadow, as it were. It was not total blackness, he could make out faint lines and shapes, as if he were a ghost in an unlit room. Then, an apparent voice came to his ears. One that he had heard before. One that he had hoped not to hear again.
"Now you go, just like your little friends...just like that horrid girl you loved so much...And I seem to be remembering something. Ah! This is the same way your parents died...In protection of something they loved so dearly; and love, I'm afraid Potter, will cost you your life..." Voldemort. Harry was up against Voldemort.
He saw clearly, now, too. Ron was a mess of dirt on the floor, his clothes ripped, spots of blood here and there; unmoving. Hermione was also a mess, but her leg was all bloody and torn up, and her sides were also bloody. Her face was white and she, eyes unseeing with utter terror, was also not moving. Both were dead. Harry was also upon the floor, stains of tears on his face were apparent, though his expression was hatred. Voldemort was standing, wand at the ready, pointing towards his enemy.
The very much alive, though floating, Harry then went deaf. The words Voldemort spoke were not heard, and the bright green flash that had brought itself forward from his terrible wand was going blurry, and then Harry was once more encased in black. Though now he could hear, and this time it was a very comforting, familiar voice.
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"Harry, dear? Oh yes, I think he's coming to!" It was Madame Pomfrey. She, along with a few others, were hovering right above Harry's face. It was clearer now that the others were none other than Ron and Hermione, a dreadful look upon both faces. Standing nearer them were Dumbledore and McGonagal, also with worried faces. And, as Harry noticed, another figure was in the room, though it seemed he didn't want his presence noticed.
'It's that Dret Falconis guy...what is he doing here?' Harry thought. And as Harry thought about it more, the 'dream' he had had was no dream...It was a premonition, and Harry could tell that was not, in the least bit, going to be the last one he would be having.
"You won't ever believe this..."
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Harry slid down to his knees and grasped at his forehead. Oddly, and yet not enough, his scar was burning white hot. Tears were gathering at his eyes now, and he hadn't the faintest why, at the mere mention of Voldemort, his scar burned. His eyes shut tightly as if it was a normal routine, and he coughed out a hard choking gasp as if he was really crying; though he was not.
Ron and Hermione only ran faster up to Harry, who they had just seen fall to his knees and clutch at his forehead, then look as though he had commenced in crying.
"Harry!" Ron grabbed his friend's shoulder and shook him slightly. Harry still held his head and let out another cry, this time tears were really streaming down his face. Then, total blackness encased him.
Hermione's eyes widened, "Go fetch Madame Pomfrey! GO!" Ron nodded and spun around, running as quick as his Weasley legs could carry, slipping almost halfway down the hall.
"Harry...Harry!" Hermione bent down and then sat beside her friend, worried expression on her face. She swallowed hard, intently looking down at Harry, who's expression was as equally worried as hers. Hermione tilted her head. "Odd..."
-:-
Harry was in a state of dreaming. He was neither standing nor sitting, he was merely floating. Floating in darkness; a shadow, as it were. It was not total blackness, he could make out faint lines and shapes, as if he were a ghost in an unlit room. Then, an apparent voice came to his ears. One that he had heard before. One that he had hoped not to hear again.
"Now you go, just like your little friends...just like that horrid girl you loved so much...And I seem to be remembering something. Ah! This is the same way your parents died...In protection of something they loved so dearly; and love, I'm afraid Potter, will cost you your life..." Voldemort. Harry was up against Voldemort.
He saw clearly, now, too. Ron was a mess of dirt on the floor, his clothes ripped, spots of blood here and there; unmoving. Hermione was also a mess, but her leg was all bloody and torn up, and her sides were also bloody. Her face was white and she, eyes unseeing with utter terror, was also not moving. Both were dead. Harry was also upon the floor, stains of tears on his face were apparent, though his expression was hatred. Voldemort was standing, wand at the ready, pointing towards his enemy.
The very much alive, though floating, Harry then went deaf. The words Voldemort spoke were not heard, and the bright green flash that had brought itself forward from his terrible wand was going blurry, and then Harry was once more encased in black. Though now he could hear, and this time it was a very comforting, familiar voice.
-:-
"Harry, dear? Oh yes, I think he's coming to!" It was Madame Pomfrey. She, along with a few others, were hovering right above Harry's face. It was clearer now that the others were none other than Ron and Hermione, a dreadful look upon both faces. Standing nearer them were Dumbledore and McGonagal, also with worried faces. And, as Harry noticed, another figure was in the room, though it seemed he didn't want his presence noticed.
'It's that Dret Falconis guy...what is he doing here?' Harry thought. And as Harry thought about it more, the 'dream' he had had was no dream...It was a premonition, and Harry could tell that was not, in the least bit, going to be the last one he would be having.
"You won't ever believe this..."