A/N: Hello everyone.

I give up! If you people refuse to review, that's peachy with me. I just need to finish this before the real book six comes out. I wanna write a sequel, but it will definitely come out after book six, so it won't really match the story. However, if you guys want one, I can work on one when this is finished. This will definitely end up shorter than I wanted it to be; perhaps 20-25 chapters long. sigh Oh well...

Review please, kind people:)

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Chapter 16 – Strange Dreams and Feelings

The room was dark, and it gave Harry a chilling sensation going up and down his spine. He could feel every hair on his nape stand on end. In the center of the room were two masked people – a man and a woman – and a man in a black cloak.

"Are you sure about this?" he hissed in a cold voice that gave him Goosebumps.

"I am, my lord," said the masked man, his voice a drawl that seemed familiar to Harry. "The Weasley girl kissed him last night. She would be the perfect bait."

"How about that girl, the one with the black hair, the one teaching him Occlumency? Will she not tell him that we are merely baiting him?" asked the masked woman; again, her voice was oddly familiar.

"She does pose a threat," said Voldemort, "both she and her brother."

"Is her brother not a Flamagus?"

"And the Half-blood prince as well?"

"Silence! Alexander Volkova is a Flamagus, but he is not the Half-blood prince. At least, we are not sure of this information. Why else would I have killed Wormtail? He did not inform us well."

Wormtail was dead? Harry felt a strange urge to run away, yet he controlled it, knowing that lives could be saved if he stayed.

"So, I ask you both," he said, his voice more menacing than ever, "to be sure that the information that you both have is accurate, unless you want to meet the same sticky fate as Wormtail."

"My lord, the Weasley girl would be the perfect bait," said the man. "I think Potter may be infatuated with her. It disgusts me, though to think of the nasty little blood traitor. To liaise with Muggles… honestly, her father must be killed for treason."

"Yes, but what about the sister of the Flamagus? His supposed guard?" asked the woman, quite exasperatedly.

"Like I said, she does pose a threat. However, she is an easily read book; her cover is practically transparent, so we know where she is weak. This is where you," he turned to the man, "come in. You will make her fall in love with you. She wears her emotions more proudly than Potter does; therefore you will be able to distract her. She is important, for she protects him. He has been effectively shutting me out from his dreams, but that is not because of his own talent. It's because of that girl. She is Potter's armor; remove her, and he will be left vulnerable."

"But my lord," began the woman, "will it not be easier if we use the Volkova girl as bait? That way, we'd be killing two birds with one stone. We can bait Potter, and remove his armor as well."

"Silence! I am Lord Voldemort! Do not contradict me!" He raised his wand, and Harry shut his eyes, prepared for the woman's screams. He opened one eye and saw that the woman had knelt in front of Voldemort, kissing the hem of his robes. The Dark Lord lowered his wand and said, "Had you not been one of my most loyal servants, perhaps I would have killed you by now." There was a tiny hint of amusement in his voice that would have otherwise been completely filled with disgust. He turned to the man. "Like I said earlier, make her fall in love with you. Make sure she believes that you love her."

"Yes, my lord," said the man.

"But I warn you. I do not want you to fall in love with her. She must love you, but you cannot love her. You do not want to suffer the repercussions if ever you do."

"I will make sure of that, master."

"Very well. You," he turned to the woman, "your task is to befriend Weasley. Become close to her; know everything about her. I will, however, prohibit you from revealing anything about yourself. The very reason why I need her as bait is because Volkova reads people well, and doesn't crave friendship as much as the Weasley girl does. We, however, know that Miss Weasley craves friendship and acceptance. Befriend her and accept her, and she will fall for the trap."

"What trap is this, my lord?"

"Disarm her, then knock her out. Hide her in that trick closet in Hogwarts. We will plant a dream in Potter's mind that she is in the Riddle House, trapped in my foul-blooded father's bedroom. Knowing Potter's love of heroics, he will come to her aid immediately. When he gets there, he will realize that he fell for the same trick twice, and I will be able to kill him."

"What about if he brings his friends, my lord? What if the Volkova girl goes along with him? She is, after all, his guard. It will be very difficult to get Potter if she is there. For one, she is a Metamorphagus, so it will be difficult to track her down and see whether she will have contacted Dumbledore and his so-called Order of the Phoenix. What's more, her Animagus form is a phoenix, therefore making it virtually impossible to kill her because she can easily transform," said the man.

"I am Lord Voldemort. Don't you see that I have already planned this out? I just need you to cooperate, so unless you want to meet the same sticky end that all my victims have, I suggest you pay attention," he said in a deathly whisper. "You will take Sophia Volkova out somewhere – away from Potter. Make sure she goes nowhere near him. Knock her brother out. His being a Flamagus is an asset to Potter and his little army, so he cannot come anywhere near him. He can also communicate with his sister, even when they are miles apart, so she will know about this, which is something quite undesirable. No, we cannot let Alexander Volkova to be conscious at a time like this; he is too great a threat. However, his other friends are easy to dispose. The Weasley girl's brother will be easy enough to kill, and even if that other one – the girl – is perhaps capable of fighting, she is a Mudblood, therefore she will not be able to fight long enough to help her friend."

Harry seethed with anger when the two Death Eaters laughed along with Voldemort regarding Hermione's parentage. He was so sure that Ron would've knocked them out had he been there with him.

But wait! Where was he? He vaguely remembered being at Hogwarts. Why was he there? Where were Ron, Hermione and Ginny? Had he traveled somewhere while he was asleep?

That must be it! He must be asleep! But if he was asleep, why couldn't he wake up?

Just then, as if on cue, he woke. He felt his chest rising and falling fast, as though he had just ran the many miles separating Hogwarts from the far away place where his dream had occurred. He replayed the entire dream in his head. They were planning to bait him using Ginny! And they wanted to get rid of Sophie. They also said Ron wouldn't last long, and Hermione might hold up for a while, but because of her parentage, she wouldn't have the ability to keep up for long. He remembered that this was what had made him realize that he was dreaming. He racked his brains, trying to remember the entire scene, but the harder he tried to remember, the more vague the images in his memory became. It was as though the memory of his dream had a misty quality. He put on his glasses and checked the beds around him; usually people slept in after long nights like last night.

The only bed that was occupied was the one beside his – Ron's bed. Ron was stretching a bit, and judging by the look on his face, it seemed that he had just enjoyed a good night's sleep.

"'Morning," yawned Ron.

"Yeah. 'Morning," Harry grunted back.

"What time is it?" asked Ron.

Harry looked at the clock Dean had beside his four-poster. "It's eight forty-five."

"Merlin! We'll miss breakfast! Come on! Let's get dressed!"

"Relax Ron! It's Sunday!"

"I don't care! We're missing breakfast for goodness' sake!"

Harry shook his head, but still complied with Ron's wishes and dressed as fast as he could. As they went down to the Great Hall, Harry had hoped that Sophie would be there. He wanted to tell her about the dream. He didn't know why he didn't tell Ron, but he felt that he wanted to know whether it was a premonition or an innocent dream. Sure enough, Sophie was there, and, to Harry's relief, she was looking much happier and more pleasant than she did the weeks preceding the ball. Seated near her were Hermione and (Harry felt his face go red) Ginny.

"Good Morning, Harry, good morning, Ron," chirped the three girls.

Merlin's beard! Since when did these three become all giggly? thought Harry. It seemed that the ball changed them, although Harry didn't want Ginny to change; he did, after all, fancy the Ginny he knew before the ball. When the giggles subsided, however, Harry had to repress a sigh of relief; they seemed as though they were back to normal.

"So, how was your night's sleep?" Ginny asked pleasantly.

"Er, okay, I guess," Harry said with some sort of a half-shrug.

"That's good. I slept quite well too."

"That's nice."

It was quite awkward; Harry didn't feel this way when he and Ginny weren't some sort of an item. Harry turned to his right; Ron and Hermione seemed to be enjoying themselves. They were talking and laughing. Harry decided not to act so awkward around Ginny; they'd probably have more fun that way.

"Did you read the Hogsmeade notice board?" asked Ginny. Somehow, Harry felt a strange sense of déjà vu.

"Er, no, I haven't. Your brother," he snorted, indicating Ron by nodding his head towards his direction, "rushed me. When he found out that we were late for breakfast…." They both laughed.

"Well, it's set for the day before Christmas break."

Harry knew why he felt that strange feeling of déjà vu. It was because this almost exact moment had happened before; he remembered asking Cho out the previous term.

"Will you go out with me?" he blurted out, and he felt so stupid doing so. It made him feel like ripping his tongue out and going into hiding for the next fifty years – no, wait, the next fifty centuries. Ginny smiled, and looked like she was trying to repress a giggle, which made Harry a bit uneasy.

"Well you see, Harry," she began, "even if I did kiss you last night, it doesn't mean we're going out or anything. I mean, it was just a little kiss. It wasn't anything serious, now, was it?"

"Oh." Harry felt himself going red. Was he expecting so much? Did he expect Ginny to like him as much as he liked her? He felt like a complete amateur at the whole going out thing – not to mention he felt like a complete dunderhead. Just then, Ginny laughed.

"I'm s-s-sorry, Harry," she said, gasping for air between laughs, "b-but I c-c-couldn't h-h-ha, ha, ha," Ginny was laughing hysterically now, and Harry felt himself going even redder, "I couldn't h-help it! I j-just wan-wanted to s-see your reaction if," she gasped for air, "if I said no. Of course I'll go out with you, you blockhead!" She rumpled his hair endearingly.

Harry laughed along with her, but it was mostly due to relief. It was as if a great weight had been lifted from the pit of his stomach because he just successfully asked Ginny Weasley out.

"Andy!" Harry heard a voice from beside Ginny. Sophie stood, and Harry saw a boy talking to her. He looked awfully familiar – he looked like Oliver Wood, actually.

"Guys," she gushed, so un-Sophie-like, "this is Andrew Wood. He's a seventh year."

Andrew waved at everyone, and for some reason, Harry felt this unsettling sensation in the pit of his stomach.

"I met Miss Sophie at the ball last night, and my, was she stunning!" he said, taking Sophie by the hand and twirling her. It was then that Harry noticed that Andrew was really, really tall; Sophie was Harry's height, and Andrew was a head taller than she was.

"Andrew is Oliver's younger brother," Sophie told them.

"Merlin, are you really?" asked Ron. "Oliver was our best keeper."

"Yeah, he was. Plays for Puddlemere United now, though. Pity he had to graduate." He had the same Scottish accent that Oliver had; in fact, it was as if this was Oliver!

"I haven't been much of a Quidditch fanatic myself," continued Andrew, "I mean, I love to watch the matches, and I can fly – that's a talent that's been in our family for ages – but I prefer the arts. I love to draw and paint, like the lovely Sophie right here." And true enough, Harry noticed that Andrew's skin was not as tanned as Oliver's was (mainly due to Quidditch) and when he saw his fingers, they were pale and slender – not at all callused like Oliver's or Ron's – and covered with paint smudges that suggested that he was painting just moments ago.

"Well, I think we'll be going now," Sophie said, smiling widely. "Oh, and Harry," she looked at him, "Occlumency lessons. Tonight. Around," she looked at Andrew, consulting him. Andrew just shrugged, clearly saying "hey, you decide." "Hmmm, perhaps eight thirty? Are you okay with that?"

"Er, alright," Harry said.

"Great. We'll be going now. Bye!" Sophie waved at everyone, and put her arm around Andrew's waist as he put his around her shoulders.

"Erm, are they going out?" asked Ron and Harry at the same time. Harry looked at Ron who shrugged, indicating that he had no clue at all. Of course, the reaction from the girls was practically expected; Hermione hit Ron's nape, while Ginny smacked herself on the forehead.

"Well are they!" Ron asked, massaging the spot where Hermione hit him. Harry, however, didn't ask. He just realized something.

In his dream, one of the Death Eaters was assigned by Voldemort to seduce Sophie. It looked like she was very much smitten with Andrew Wood, and Harry felt worried for her. He didn't trust Andrew so much; he felt that Sophie deserved someone else. Just as these thoughts were running through his mind, he felt his scar twinge. Putting the remainder of his toast in his mouth and swallowing it whole, he stood, and without saying anything, left to look for Sophie.

He was probably unaware of it, but he was running. Running towards an unknown destination. It was as if his feet were going to take him to wherever Sophie was, doing Merlin-knows-what with Andrew. When he was running, it was as if he was only subconscious – it was as though he lost all reason; he felt as though he could do nothing sane… it was as if something in him just snapped! He had no idea why he felt this way… he knew not why thinking of Sophie with Andrew Wood was enough to provoke him to lose all mental normalcy.

He was fully supraliminal again when he found himself at the Gryffindor common room entrance, and realized that the Fat Lady had been asking him for the password for the past three minutes.

"Steamy Nights," he said; the Fat Lady had changed the password just two nights ago; he vaguely remembered Hermione talking to Ron about it. When he entered, only one person was found inside – with good reason; it was a beautiful day, and nobody in their right minds would spend it indoors. Except, of course, for Alexander Volkova.

He was the only one in the common room. He was reading a novel, quietly leafing through its pages. Harry stood for a moment, panting; it was only then that he realized how fast he was running and how tired it had made him, and though he was naturally speedy, he ran above his normal rate.

When he finally began to breathe more or less normally, he sat next to Alexander, a boy who he was beginning to regard as his younger brother. "Hey," he said, looking at the younger boy.

"Hello," replied Alexander, quite pleasantly, though not taking his eyes off his book.

"What're you reading?"

"The Count of Monte Cristo. It's by Alexandre Dumas, if I am not mistaken. I think it was my father's favorite book, and it's quite possible that I was named after its author, though I could be wrong." He closed the book and looked at Harry. "What are you doing indoors on such a lovely day like this?"

"Shouldn't I be asking you the same question?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, I decided to do a bit of reading. You didn't answer my question, however."

"Well, I was looking for your sister."

"Sophia's upstairs with Andrew Wood; don't go up unless you want to see a very unpleasant sight." Alexander shuddered, a look of disgust distorting his features that were very much like his sister's. Unable to say anything else, Harry decided to start a conversation.

"She hates it when you call her Sophia, you know."

"Yeah. I have no idea why, though. It is her name. Why were you looking for her, anyway." Harry felt the young boy's brotherly concern, and as he looked into the dark eyes that were not at all unlike Sophie's, he knew that he could trust the first year.

"You see, last night, I had a dream," began Harry. He began the retelling of the dream, and Alexander listened on, bearing no reaction and having no change of expression. Once he was through with his account of the dream, Alexander shifted and silenced for a while. After a few minutes, in which Harry was so sure (though he knew not how he knew) that Alexander was thinking, the younger boy finally spoke.

"Harry, don't you think that the dream you had was, well, just a dream?"

"But my dreams aren't normal dreams! They never have been!"

"Except the one you had about Sirius. Now," Harry was about to say something, but Alexander refused to allow him to do so, "maybe this wasn't an ordinary dream. And maybe Voldemort does have some way of baiting you. But don't you think that it'd be stupid of him to try the same trick twice? He never does that. My mum and dad defied Voldemort twice, but the situations were not the same. You defied him four times, but the circumstances were all different. Voldemort is smart enough to know that people are smart. He knows that if he tries the same trick twice, his target will not fall for it a second time. Maybe…"

"Maybe what?"

"Never mind. I have to consult Sophia first. She might know…" He trailed off. "Well, I have to get going. Professor Flitwick gave us half a foot on the levitation spell. Y'know, Wingardium Leviosa." Harry smiled as he remembered, with a hint of nostalgia, when Ron and Hermione bickered about that spell. Alexander picked up his novel, and he was nearly out of the portrait hole when Harry decided to thank him.

"Er, thanks," he said, loud enough so that the other boy could hear.

"No problem. I suggest you talk to my sister about it. She knows better than I."

"I will, thanks."

Harry did take Alexander's suggestion, and that night, Harry told Sophie all about his dream. As with Alexander, there was a few moments' silence, wherein Sophie was thinking about the dream.

"Harry, I think the dream was just, well, you know, a dream."

"How do you know?"

Harry was irritated when her response was like that of Alexander; he was hoping that someone had some other explanation. "Because Voldemort never tries the same trick twice."

"He might!"

"Harry, don't jump to conclusions. I hate to remind you of a painful memory, but someone died the last time you jumped to conclusions, and no, it was not the bad guy."

"But if I do what I feel is right, maybe this time the bad guy will die."

"Apparently you haven't learned from what had happened to you before! If you don't learn from the past, it is bound to repeat itself! Harry, I sense fear. What is it that you're so afraid of?"

Harry was beginning to get more irritated by the minute. "Well, in case you haven't noticed, the world's fate rests on my shoulders, and I'm afraid of screwing it up! I'm afraid of dying, for goodness' sake!"

"Well, Harry, if you have plans of being afraid, you might as well join Voldemort."

This caused Harry to feel such anger, and though he was slightly aware that he could fly off the handle, he did nothing to stop it. He felt himself shaking with fury, and he wasn't even aware that he was already standing up.

"That's great. Supremely wonderful. I'll team up with Voldemort so that together, we can conquer the world and kill all the Muggles. What in Merlin's name is this supposed to be, huh? Just because your fate and everyone else's fate rests on me, doesn't mean I can't be afraid! Last time I checked, I was still human! WHY IS IT THAT I CAN'T BE HUMAN ANYMORE!"

Sophie also stood up, and her anger was almost tangible. She was practically shaking with fury, but Harry didn't care. "YOU'RE NOT BEING HUMAN, YOU'RE BEING AN IDIOT, THAT'S WHAT YOU ARE!"

An idiot, huh? So that's what she thought… "SO I'M AN IDIOT! WANTING TO SAVE PEOPLE'S LIVES IS IDIOTIC, THEN, HUH?"

"IT IS WHEN YOU'RE NOT CONSIDERING THE REASONABLE EXPLANATION THAT I'M GIVING YOU! YOU'RE PUTTING MORE LIVES IN DANGER IF YOU CONTINUE PLAYING THE GOD DAMNED HERO!"

People started coming out of their dormitories; first years looked quite anxious, while the older students looked quite excited. It was obvious that the gossip pump would be incredibly full the next day.

"I THINK I WOULD HAVE NOTICED! I MEAN, SIRIUS DID DIE BECAUSE OF ME, DIDN'T HE? OH RIGHT, I DON'T THINK HE DID, BECAUSE OTHER PEOPLE KEPT ON SAYING THAT IT WASN'T MY FAULT!"

"I DIDN'T SAY IT WASN'T YOUR FAULT! I ONLY TOLD YOU TO STOP WALLOWING IN SELF-PITY!"

"I WASN'T PITYING MYSELF! I SUFFERED A BLOODY LOSS! MERLIN, I THOUGHT YOU WERE SMART ENOUGH TO KNOW THAT! YOU'VE SUFFERED LOSS AS WELL!"

"THAT LOSS DOESN'T HAUNT ME STILL, THOUGH!"

"WHAT THE EFFING HELL DO YOU MEAN BY THAT!"

"WELL, GEE, HARRY, I DON'T THINK THAT YOU'D BE SO DEATHLY AFRAID OF THIS DREAM IF YOU JUST LEARNED FROM YOUR LESSON! BUT NO, YOU'RE FAMOUS HARRY POTTER! THE BOY-WHO-BLOODY-LIVED! YOU CAN'T TAKE ADVICE FROM A MERE MORTAL SUCH AS MYSELF! WELL, I'M SORRY PAL, BUT IF YOU'RE NOT GOING TO LISTEN TO ME ANYWAY, I THINK I SHOULD JUST STOP! BLOODY HELL, I QUIT!"

Harry felt the strongest sure of anger, and, for some odd reason, words that he didn't mean kept spilling out of his mouth. "I know why you're doing this," he said in a quiet, menacing tone – quiet enough so that only the two of them could hear, "you just don't want to believe that your precious Andy is a Death Eater!"

Sophie looked as though he had hit her. She looked in his eyes, and for a split-second, she looked shocked – almost frightened. But this quickly disappeared, and when she spoke, it was in the coldest, most menacing voice that Harry had ever heard in his life.

"Leave Andrew out of this," she said, fixing him with a piercing glare that just made Harry sick to his stomach. "You have absolutely no right to bring him into our argument." She was still glaring at him, and Harry felt as though he wanted to vomit. It was as if his energy was depleting. He needed to get away from her – and quick!

So he ran.

He ran as fast as he could, up the dormitories, ignoring the first years' frightened looks and dodging the seventh years' questions. He nearly bumped into Alexander, who looked frightened; Harry was sure it was not because of the argument, because the young boy looked into his eyes and had the same expression that Sophie had for just a split-second. When Alexander went to his sister, Harry ran even faster, and stopped just at the entrance of his dormitory.

He went to the mirror on the wall and looked at his eyes, wondering what they were scared of. He looked at them, and they looked normal. But then, he also began to feel normal. Confused, he just sat on his bed, and without changing or taking off his glasses, lay in it, almost instantly falling asleep.