A/n: Ok, it has come to my attention that this chapter has absolutely nothing to do with the rest of the story. But, as it is entwined with the other ones, and I don't really want to have to make up another chapter that has someone being shaken awake in, I'm going to stick with this one for now. But don't judge me on it. It's just... there... so, if you want, just go on and skip to chapter two, where the story starts. And just change where it says "second" to first. Or you can just read this. Whatever. Just keep reading, anyway...

Annie (8/14/2004)

Bellatrix Lestrange writhed in pain, with a terrified look at Harry, whose hand was raised, wand in hand. Raising his hand slightly, Harry concentrated on sending more energy in Bellatrix's direction. She began to scream in a hoarse low voice that was not her own. Harry began to laugh, quietly at first, but soon a deep cold laugh in a voice that was not his filled the blue chamber. The voice was cold and cruel. He wondered where he had heard it before, but just before the thought was completed in his mind, Harry realized the Mirror of Erised was about ten feet, directly to his right. He saw himself laughing, as was to be expected from any mirror. What he hadn't expected to see was his form slowly grow taller, thinner. His fingers got spindly like spiders, and his nose became two holes. Like a snake. Harry stopped laughing, with an abrupt gasp, but the red eyed man in the mirror, Voldemort, did not. Voldemort stared at Harry, with a cruel smirk on his face. Raising his wand, the sordid, malevolent man raised his wand. Harry, convinced that Voldemort whispering the killing curse would be the last thing he would hear, looked up the man, when he started whispering words rather than a spell. Voldemort's dry crackling mouth barely let out a sound, but the whisper overrode Bellatrix's screams, and rang in Harry's ears.

"You are just like me."

Harry screamed, and the red spell shot towards him. With a thump, it hit his chest.

"Bloody hell, Harry! Are you ok?!?" Harry looked up to see Ron, sheet white, peering at him. Next to him was Seamus Finnigan who was holding a ripped piece of the velvet four poster hangings. Dean Thomas was talking quietly to Professor McGonagall, who had just stridden in quickly. Neville Longbottom, the fifth boy boarding in the room, was absent.

"Harry! Talk to me, mate!" Ron said, slightly louder than he had the second time. He had put his hands on Harry's shoulders, and was shaking him. Harry, whose head was already pounding, tried to writhe out of Ron's grasp, to no success. Luckily for him, Professor McGonagall had finished speaking with Dean and lifted Ron off Harry's bed as if Ron was no heavier than Crookshanks.

"Let him breathe, Weasley. A concussion isn't going to help the situation-Madame Pomfrey is currently busy doing work for... another job of hers. Potter, what happened?" Professor McGonagall was standing next to Harry's bed, with her hand on his arm and a motherly look of concern on her face.

Seeing this side of Professor McGonagall was just as shocking to Harry as finding out that his entire room was on the verge of brouhaha, and it was apparently related to him.

As Harry stared uncomprehendingly at McGonagall, Neville burst into the room.

"He's in here' Hermione! Come on! He's been screaming nonstop for the past half an hour! We cant wake him up!" Neville stopped dead at the site of Professor McGonagall, and tried quickly to hide Hermione behind him. Although Neville had grown several inches over the summer, he still could not hide Hermione's bushy hair. Professor McGonagall didn't seem to mind, however, and looked back at Harry.

"Harry, was the dream about Voldemort?" Seamus and Neville visibly flinched, and Dean looked stricken.

"Yes..." Harry answered slowly. Because it was. But this wasn't like any other dream he'd had about Voldemort. All of his dreams had taken place in the present, for one thing. For another, Harry wasn't in Voldemort's body in his recent dream. In most of his other dreams he was.

Professor McGonagall looked at the apprehension in Harry's face.

"What? Spit it out, Potter! Is there something wrong with someone in... someone on our side?"

Wincing, Harry remembered the last time a dream had given him a "warning" about someone who was in trouble in the order. It had resulted in the death of Sirius Black, Harry's godfather.

"No. It wasn't like the other dreams, Professor. In this one, I wasn't in Voldemort's body. And I was in it, so it wasn't happening in the present. I- I really just don't know what to make of it..."

He looked so rattled that Hermione came over and sat next to Harry on the bed. This drew Professor McGonagall's attention to her.

"Miss Granger, it is completely preposterous to think that you have not by this point heard about Mr. Potter's almost nightly dreaming. It is quite as preposterous to me that you did not do anything about it. Am I, or am I not correct?" Hermione nodded, and looked rather frightened.

"Well, Miss Granger, I would like to be the first teacher to congratulate you on not thinking an idea the whole way through." Professor McGonagall had completely relaxed, and was now leaning back in the chair next between Harry and Ron's beds, an amused/tired look on her face.

"H-Harry's alright, right? H-he's going to be ok?" Ron had been sitting silently on the bed for the entire time Professor McGonagall had been talking. The eyes behind the large square glasses crinkled, and one of the very few smiles that Professor McGonagall shared with her students slid onto her face. Nodding, she continued.

"Miss Granger, I am correct in assuming that you figured that a Bloriquous Potion, a potion to block unfriendly connections, would work very well for Harry."

"Yes, the Bloriquous Potion includes many ingredients such as the flesh of a yarghamn, and Warbler tusks that provide extra protection from-"

"Yes, yes, I know the ingredients, I know the...particularly bizarre brewing conditions... I am also fit to brew the potion. If I may continue, we know that the side affects of the Bloriquous potion may include a lot more normal dreams than a regular human may have. But that would be ok, you figured. You also assumed that Harry had not been getting enough sleep as it was, so for a few weeks, a unique Sleeping Drought, the Time Drought would catch him up on lost sleep." Hermione nodded mutely.

"I am positive that you thoroughly researched both potions, so that you could make sure that no ill side affects would mar Harry. What you did miss, my dear, was the logical sense of the matter. Think about it my dear." Indignantly, Hermione opened her mouth, and before she could speak, Professor McGonagall spoke again.

"Hermione! Do you know one thing that, at night, will occur to the best and worst of wizards and muggles?"

"Of course! Dreams. But-"

"And are any normal dreams sent from some ill intending foe, Miss Granger?" Hermione's mouth made an O.

"Harry's dream was a dream that comes to all normal people once in a while. Nightmares are common to all people, you included, correct, Miss Granger? Hermione didn't move.

"So by giving him the sleeping draught next to the Bloriquous Potion, you gave Harry just a normal bad dream, that he couldn't wake up from." She turned to Harry again."

"Potter, I don't know if you understand how much strength it takes to break free from a Bloriquous Potion. You weren't meant to wake up before seven in the morning, when the potion stopped its effect. If only you could put this much effort into potions, you may have a grade that would allow you to have your job of choice." She smiled grimly.

"I have to go inform Professor Dumbledore of the false alarm. I will see you tomorrow afternoon. Do no forget your essay on transfiguring bright colored plants, versus regular colored ones."

She made to leave, and Hermione followed her, her neck nearly as read as Ron's hair.