Author's notes: First of all thank you to everyone who reviewed, I greatly appreciate the feedback. It is always helpful to see the story through objective eyes. Sorry that chapter went in wrong - here's the correct Chapter Three.

KJKIT: You're very sweet, I'll update soon.

QueenWeasel: Thank you for reviewing on both of my chapters, I'm still getting used to using this medium, but I plan to update as often as possible.

MinorMistake99: Thank you for the "real" comment - that's exactly what I'm going for. I'm probably going to add a little to make sure that Lupin and Figg don't appear too abruptly - thanks for the comment. I'm so glad you "LOVED" chapter 2! Thanks a bunch!

Loverofbothsexes5102: The pair(s) will be more evident in future chapters. I have quite a few chapters and will try to post them as often as possible. Be patient if you can - you'll see.

CHAPTER THREE - THE NIGHTMARE

"But Harry," Hermione exclaimed, "how do you know what's in the prophecy? Neville said it got broken."

"Dumbledore. Dumbledore was the one who heard the prophecy in the first place, and he told me what it said last June." Harry answered.

"It was about you and you-know-who, wasn't it, Harry? What did it say?" Ron asked, cautiously. He looked like he wanted to know but was slightly afraid of what Harry's answer might really be.

"It said ..." Harry hesitated. This was turning out to be harder than he thought. Harry looked at his hands, "It said something like - 'the one who can defeat Voldemort will be born at the end of July to parents who had defied Voldemort three times,'" Harry paused. Ron and Hermione were perfectly still, listening raptly. "It said, 'Voldemort would mark him as an equal, but that he ... he would have power that Voldemort doesn't,'" Harry's last words felt as if they were ripped from him rather than spoken, "'and ... and either will die because neither can survive while the other still lives,' in the end."

A dreadful silence followed Harry's last words; he was still looking at his hands. Harry hadn't talked at all about the prophecy since Dumbledore had told him about it last June. Saying the prophecy out loud and in his own words had brought the truth of it home to Harry in a way that nothing else could have.

"But ... but what does that mean ... exactly?" Ron asked, looking afraid.

Harry suddenly felt very tired and much, much older than his barely sixteen years. He looked up at Ron and Hermione. While Harry had been talking, they had slid next to each other. They had their arms linked, but their facial expressions were quite different. Hermione looked completely horrified, while Ron looked slightly incredulous, but pale.

"It means that my ... well, Dumbledore said that my life and Voldemort's are linked. I guess at some point we will have to meet again and that one of us will have to ... will have to die ..." Harry swallowed, his throat was suddenly quite dry.

"Oh, Harry," Hermione squeaked, as she put her head in her hands.

After a few moments, Ron stammered, "No ... that couldn't possibly mean..."

"It does ..." Harry said heavily.

"You mean .... you and you-know-who have got to fight each other ..." Ron paused, he apparently couldn't bring himself to say it.

"To the death ... yeah," Harry concluded, hopelessly, looking away from them again. For a moment all three of them sat perfectly still and silent. Harry felt drained, sapped of all energy and strength as if he carried the weight of the entire world on his shoulders. "But then maybe I am," he thought bitterly, as they all sat there speechlessly. Ron and Hermione seemed too stunned to even move.

"But somehow you can beat him ... right, Harry?" Ron asked, grasping for straws.

"Yes, Harry," Hermione said, looking up at him, "The power that Voldemort doesn't have ... you can still win." she paused, "Did Dumbledore say what that power was?"

Harry didn't answer. He hadn't anticipated how difficult it would be to talk about this again. All this talk of the prophecy was reminding him of how he had felt that night that Sirius was taken from him, and Harry started to feel a strong choking sensation in his throat again. Harry swallowed. When he looked up at them again, he realized he'd been holding his breath without meaning to. Harry let it out and tried to say something, but he honestly didn't know what else to say.

Suddenly Hermione whispered desperately, "But Harry, what are you going to do?"

"I dunno," Harry whispered sadly, and then exhausted, lay back down on the bed.

-----------------

Harry felt totally dejected as he tried to go to sleep that night, but now at least Ron and Hermione knew about the prophecy. Harry still felt desperately alone and separate from everyone else, but sharing the horrible knowledge of the prophecy with them made him feel like the burden wasn't quite as heavy as before. Ron and Hermione were the two bright spots in his life; they were his first and best friends, and they had always been there for him when he'd needed them most. Though he could scarcely even think about it, without them in his life he knew he would be totally lost. With that last thought Harry drifted off into a fitful sleep.

He was walking down the hallway at Grimmauld Place - Ron and Hermione were leading him somewhere - they kept looking furtively back at him as they gestured for him to follow. Harry wondered why they weren't speaking to him, but then pushed that thought away as they reached a door with a serpent-shaped doorknob at the end of the hall. They motioned for him to go inside first.

As Harry opened the door, though, it was not Grimmauld Place anymore but the Room of Requirement at Hogwarts. Harry turned around to look for Ron and Hermione, but they had disappeared from his side. As he entered the room it looked just like it had during their D.A. meetings last year. Harry saw movement from out of the corner of his eye and turned.

Something dark was huddled in the shadows. He started to walk toward it. "Oh my God, it's Sirius!" Harry realized. Sirius was bound and tied struggling against his bonds, but definitely alive. "SIRIUS!" Harry screamed as he ran towards Sirius to untie him. But just as he got there, Sirius turned into Ron and Hermione. They were now bound and tied back to back in the same bonds that had been holding Sirius.

Just then Harry heard an eerie, horribly familiar cold high-pitched laugh coming from directly behind him. Harry turned suddenly, the hair on his arms and back of his neck raised as though he were standing on ice; his scar immediately on fire. Voldemort raised his wand and pointed it at Ron and Hermione. "CRUCIO!" he said in an evil cackle, devoid of all human emotion. Ron and Hermione screamed through their gags, their bodies crumpled together as their eyes streamed in pain.

Harry flew at Voldemort, even though he had no wand and was only in his pajamas. Voldemort turned his wand on Harry, but instead of using an unforgivable curse, he cried "Immobilus," instead. Harry was frozen stock-still a few feet away unable to move or speak. His best friends were screaming in agony and there was nothing he could do about it. Voldemort turned back to Ron and Hermione who were still bound together groaning in pain. They looked pleadingly at Harry as Voldemort raised his wand. Harry, still under the spell's influence, couldn't move no matter how hard he tried. Voldemort said, "AVADA KEDAVRA!" as a green light flew towards Ron and Hermione's horrified faces ....."

"NO .... NO ..... NOOOOOOOO!" Back at Grimmauld Place Harry Potter awoke tearing at his bedclothes; he was screaming and shaking uncontrollably as his scar seared and burned.

-----------------------

Ron, Hermione, Lupin, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and Ginny were all stationed outside Harry's door in their night things. Dumbledore had come straight to headquarters after being notified; he had actually apparated right to Harry's side. Nobody was quite sure of what had happened.

When Harry started screaming Ron had been unable to wake him, so he called for help, horrified. Everyone in the house was already on their way, though, having been awakened by the terrible noise of Harry's panicked cries. Harry had been beside himself with terror; initially it had taken some time to get him calmed down - he still thought he was at Hogwarts and that Ron and Hermione had literally been murdered. Even when Harry finally did start to come to his senses, he couldn't stop shaking. Dumbledore asked everyone to leave him with Harry for a moment.

But Harry had then panicked when they all got up to leave. Harry was dizzy and horribly nauseous, his scar was still throbbing with pain, and it had all felt like he was really there; like he was still there now. No one seemed to understand just how real this was to him. Harry just wanted to look at Ron and Hermione once more to reassure himself that they really were alive and okay. After he and Dumbledore were alone, Harry felt horribly unnerved and jittery; he seemed unable to hold still.

Harry had never in his life had a nightmare that powerful before - it was even more real than the terrifying visions he'd had last year. Harry told Dumbledore everything, including how powerful and intense it had all seemed, while holding his forehead in one of his shaking hands. Harry's heart was still beating fast when Dumbledore sat down next to him on the bed. Dumbledore placed a hand on Harry's shoulder before he spoke.

"Voldemort may be causing you to have these dreams, Harry, as an extension of the visions he has already sent to you," Dumbledore explained directly in his calm voice. "I believe he may be sending you these dreams to try to break into your mind and destabilize it."

"You mean he's trying to make me go mad?" Harry asked, panicking slightly.

"It is possible," Dumbledore said quietly, "Harry, I want you to do your best to empty your mind before you go to sleep at night - every night. I will begin working with you as soon as we get back to Hogwarts, but in the meantime you must do your best to empty your mind."

"Yes, sir," Harry mumbled, shivering, as he looked down at his mangled bedclothes. He had actually managed to rip one of his blankets while he'd been violently thrashing around earlier.

"It will be all right, Harry, we will find way to stop this," Dumbledore said reassuringly as he got up to leave.

As Dumbledore left he sent Ron back in and told everyone that Harry was going to be fine and to try to go back to sleep. As Harry lay in bed continuing to shiver feverishly, Ron set something down on the dresser in the corner. When Harry glanced over at him again, however, he found Ron was standing right next to him. "Here," Ron offered, "Mum made you some tea." As Harry tried to hold the cup steady enough to take a sip, Ron sat on his own bed again. "It's going to be okay, Harry ... honestly," Ron said soothingly. "We'll figure this out." Harry nodded silently. It was reassuring to him that Ron had basically repeated what Dumbledore had just told him without realizing it. It meant a lot to him that his best friend did not think him a raving lunatic - even if Harry wasn't quite so sure of it himself.

-------------------

The next morning Harry awoke to hear Ron throwing owl treats to Hedwig and Pigwidgeon; he was already dressed. "Harry," Ron said in a quiet voice as he slowly walked back over to the beds, "I just wanted to tell you ... well, Hermione and I have been really worried about you, mate ..." he paused. Harry had just put on his glasses and was pulling himself out from under his torn bedclothes. "It's just that we wanted you to know, I dunno, that we're here for you," Ron continued, "if you need to talk or anything, you know ... whatever you need."

When Harry remained silent, Ron asked, "Are you coming downstairs, then?"

"Yeah sure, in a minute, okay," Harry murmured, his head down. "Oh, and Ron ... thanks." Harry only looked up after Ron had shut the door to their room. He still couldn't help feeling shaken and hopeless in the wake of the horrible images he had witnessed last night. Harry knew that Ron was trying to help him, but at the moment he felt quite beyond help.

Harry got up and walked to his trunk to change. As he pulled some wrinkled clothes out of his trunk he saw the remnants of Sirius' mirror glinting up at him. He took the broken shards and lay them on the mirror-backed dresser in the corner wondering whether to repair it or not. As Harry stood there he glanced up and caught a fleeting glimpse of his reflection. He stopped, staring.

Harry took a good long look at himself in the mirror, it had been a while since he had done so. Harry barely recognized the person who was staring back at him. He was unmercifully pale and thin; his scar bright red on his forehead. Harry's untidy black hair was messier than he could ever remember seeing it, and he had dark circles under his eyes. Even though Harry had grown a bit taller - his pajamas were definitely a bit too short now - he felt small, insignificant. Harry looked down at his hands, they were still holding on to the shattered mirror. As he turned them over, Harry could see the faint outline of "I must not tell lies," that he had been forced to etch into the back of his hand by Umbridge, a harsh reminder of what he'd had to deal with last year. He wondered idly how many more scars he would be carrying around when this was all over, "if I survive at all," Harry thought to himself, despairingly.

After a few moments of despondence, however, Harry shook his head violently as if to dispel these dark thoughts. "What are you doing?" Harry asked his reflection. He stood staring at himself in the mirror as he listened to the rumble of voices and the clanking of dishes downstairs. Harry suddenly realized he had to stop himself from falling even deeper into the well of despair he was now in. He had to dig himself out somehow, no matter how difficult it was to do. He had to fight not only his own despair, but also his nemesis. Harry had to fight Voldemort, to defeat him once and for all. No matter what Harry had to do, no matter what it cost him, no matter what the price to himself may be; Voldemort had to be destroyed, and Harry was the only one who could do it. At that moment Harry knew what he had to do; he had made his decision. He was going to do the only thing that he could do; he was going to fight.