Chapter 16 – Sleepwalking

When Harry returned to the kitchen, he found that Ron was up by now. At least he thought the red-haired head behind the mountain of toast on his plate belonged to Ron. He had not met another Weasley family member so far who was just as intent on eating as his best mate was. To Ron's left and right, Fred and George were sitting, the dragonhide-jackets Harry had already seen on them at Platform 9¾ hanging over the chairs behind them. They looked up as Harry entered and mischievous twin-smiles appeared on their faces.

"Harry, a pleasure to meet you here", Fred said and gestured for Harry to sit down on the other side of the table.

"Yes", George continued. "A visit to Grimmauld Place simply is not complete without meeting you."

Harry frowned slightly, but sat down as the twins indicated. By now he was used to them and their sometimes very weird way of acting, yet it still served to confuse him from time to time.

"Good morning", he mumbled. "What brings you here"

Fred got up from his chair to fetch a jug of pumpkin-juice from the pantry, so George spoke for him.
"A mother's desire to see her two most successful sons from time to time. And as she for some reason refuses to set foot into our store we have to come here to keep up our family-relations. After all, the Burrow is a rather deserted place at the moment."

"And", Fred finished"we wanted to say goodbye to Ginny."

"You're a bit late for that", Harry remarked. "She's left hours ago."

George sighed and Fred nodded wearily, as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders.

"That we know now", he said heavily. "Alas, it's a bit difficult to keep up with real life in times like these…"

"…with customers nearly trampling down our place…", George continued the dialogue between his brother and himself.

"…stocks to be refilled…"

"…orders to be placed…"

"…paperwork to be done…"

"…news from home hastily scribbled down on small sheets of parchment…"

"…which somehow fell into the wastepaper-basket…"

"…and ended up in the fireplace.", George finished. Harry had to fight against the urge to laugh.

"You want to tell me that you wrote down when Ginny would leave, and then threw the piece of parchment away"

Fred shrugged.

"It's an ugly way of putting it, but all little coincidences taken into account I'd say you are right. My dear brother", he made a gesture into the direction of George"thought she would be leaving tomorrow morning, so we came to wish her goodbye. To find that she had already left."

George nodded. "Yes, especially sad since we had promised to give her a bit of a new invention of ours before she left. Shrinking Shriekers, we call them."

"Do I really want to know", Ron asked between two slices of toast. A large grin was starting to show on Fred's face.

"You might want to so that you don't find yourself on the receiving end of one. They do look an awful lot like Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans, you know. Though they all taste the same, no matter the colour. We're still working on that."

"And what do they do", Harry asked, his curiosity sparked.

"Well, actually it was Ginny who gave us the idea, so we thought it might be her honour to get the first samples. You see, Harry mate, in case a boy and a girl decide to go out together, and maybe the boy has other things in mind than the girl…well, let's just say that if the boy gets any stupid ideas, the Shrinking Shriekers take care that his attention is somewhat distracted from his initial plan. Distracted by a sudden process of…well, of shrinking. The shrieking is what mostly follows upon realizing what exactly it was that has shrunk. It lasts for about two hours and is very effective against hormone-driven teenagers who don't really know what they're doing."

Ron's head snapped up and his face grew red within moments. "What does Ginny need something like that for? Which boy gave her that idea? I swear that if I ever find out…"

"Relax, little brother. Our dear sister is very much able to take care of herself. I for one wouldn't want to rise her temper, and I'm sure her classmates know that very well by now. She just thought it would be a funny idea, only too understandable given that she is surrounded by teenagers for the entire time."

George mock-shuddered. "Indeed, indeed. All those hormones, I shudder to think of it. But for the most part, we're still focussing our efforts on things that explode and things that can get you out of your lessons. That is where all the fun is, you know? And over the past six and a half years we've had so many ideas which simply need to be transferred to reality."

Ron grumbled something, his mouth full with toast again. He didn't seem entirely convinced that it was wise to let Ginny face the world with anything less than a 24-hour bodyguard, but as that was not his place to decide, he grudgingly kept silent. Harry was a bit amused about the twins' newest invention, though he didn't particularly fancy the idea of ever being on the receiving end of one of those Shrinking Shriekers. Well, he didn't think it would ever come to this anyway, given his 'success' in the girl-department so far. He sighed and leaned back in his chair.

"How long are you going to stay"

Fred shrugged. "I guess we're going to fill our stomachs with one of Mum's lunches, and then it's back to the store for us. We can't keep it solely in Lee's hands for an entire day, he's only been helping us out for a few weeks now, he still doesn't find his way around on his own entirely. And our new helper isn't to arrive before Monday."

"You've hired somebody"

George nodded, a proud smile on his face. "Yes, our first real employee. We'd have taken Lee, of course, now that he's finished at Hogwarts, but he's got that fixed idea of becoming an Auror in his head. So he's just been helping out until his training at the Ministry starts, and we had to hire somebody else. Her name is Nina, she's been working at Zonko's for a time, so she knows a bit about how things work already."

"She's starting on Monday", Fred repeated his earlier statement. "And if things continue to run as they do now, we might even start thinking about hiring another employee, and in the future maybe even open up another shop."

The proud grin on his face mirrored that of his twin, and Harry found himself smiling along with them. The twins had really earned that their shop was running so well, only Harry feared that the impending war might change that drastically to the worse. But for now that didn't seem to disturb the twins – though Harry was sure that they had made up their mind about it – and he decided not to let that kind of thoughts ruin the mood today.

Harry remained in the kitchen, talking to Ron and the twins, when a few moments later the door opened and Mr. Weasley came into the room, talking lowly to his wife. Mrs. Weasley, unlike her husband, had obviously seen the twins this day already, as she merely nodded at them. But Arthur smiled widely at the sight of his sons and went over to greet them. The Weasleys settled down after a few moments of greetings and the usual small-talk after not seeing each other for a time, and with a grin Harry heard Ron ask his mother in between two slices of toast what she'd make for lunch.

"Merlin Ron, do you have a tapeworm or what else is wrong with you"

Fred and George chuckled slightly, but both of them were clever enough to hide their amusement behind their hands. Mrs. Weasley rolled her eyes in a heartfelt sharing of Harry's question.

"You could go without lunch after that breakfast you had, Ron", she said. Ron quickly started to defend himself.

"I was only asking", he said indignantly. Surprisingly, it was Fred and George who came to his help.

"Wee Ronnykins has grown a lot over the past year, Mum, he has to fill out that frame. And besides, George and I would also be interested in what you will make for lunch."

Mrs. Weasley rolled her eyes again, but bestowed a fond smile on the twins which belied all her open doubts about their choice of career.

"I'll make meatballs for lunch, with mashed potatoes. That all right with the gentlemen"

She mock-bowed in front of her sons, and Harry found himself astonished at this display of humour. There had not been many positive thoughts he had had about Mrs. Weasley over the past weeks, mostly because of what she had said about Sirius. But at the moment she simply seemed to be content to have most of her children around, only too understandable after the estrangement between the Weasley family and Percy, of whom Harry had not heard anything over the course of the past days. A few minutes later the Weasley reunion was nearly complete as the door opened again and Bill and Charlie entered the kitchen. After a short greeting to their family they sat down at the end of the table with their father. Bill pulled a rolled-up parchment out of the inner pocket of his robe and rolled it out on the table in front of him, gesturing at it while he spoke in a low voice. Mr. Weasley nodded from time to time, listening intently on what his oldest was telling. Charlie didn't look particularly uninterested, but it was obvious from how he busied himself with his tea and toast that he had heard whatever Bill was saying already. Their talking was too low for Harry to understand, but by now he was used to being excluded from Order business. Sometimes he wondered, though, why still everybody was talking about whatever the Order was doing right in front of his eyes, but speaking lowly enough so that he couldn't hear it. It was a tad bit unnerving, Harry had to admit.

But whatever it was that Mr. Weasley was talking about to his oldest sons, it only took them a few minutes to finish it. Then Bill rolled up the parchment, put it into the inside pocket of his robe and shrugged slightly.

"I'll have a look at it", Mr. Weasley said, and with that the topic seemed to be closed. Harry was glad, because then at least he could stop pretending to be entirely uninterested in what they were talking about, when he was actually rather curious to know what was going on. Here at Grimmauld Place, the Order work and the impending war of course were a lot closer to Harry than with his aunt and uncle, but still there had been absolutely no news of any kind. Ever since he and Remus had been talking on the night of his birthday, Harry had not heard anything about Death Eaters, Voldemort or any kind of unusual activity anywhere in England. He had read the Daily Prophet as often as he could lay hands on it, mostly a copy was lying on the kitchen table every day, but there had been nothing in there as well. Only stories about the first war, things which Harry thought merely served to spread a feeling of insecurity in the people who read those reports. Though Remus had been right in one thing, Harry had found no more stories that wanted to make him look like a complete nutcase who should be locked up in a padded room in St. Mungo's instead of attending Hogwarts. On the contrary, the paper seemingly could not get enough of writing about his defeat of Voldemort – as if there had been anything he had done – and his courage during that night a year ago, when he had stood to face the dark wizard once more. The night Cedric Diggory had died. Remus had said it was because now that the impending war had been admitted, people expected him to save the wizarding world. Everybody seemed to think this was his destiny, yet it was one Harry still struggled to accept. He only wanted to have a normal life, was that so hard to understand? It shouldn't be too hard to grasp, but Harry guessed that most of the wizarding world was not particularly interested in what prize he had to pay, if only he managed to defeat Voldemort. How they came to believe he could, Harry didn't know.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

That night, Harry couldn't fall asleep for a long time. He didn't know why, he just tossed and turned from one side to the other while in the bed next to him Ron lay stretched out on his back, arms dangling off the edge and snoring so loudly that Harry was surprised that his friend didn't wake himself up with the noise he was making. But that was not the reason why Harry could not fall asleep. He was used to Ron's snoring by now, otherwise he'd hardly get any sleep for most of the year. Harry was tired, but sleep simply would not come. He had a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach, but could not quite place it. Yet Harry knew that this was what kept him from falling asleep, so he stared at the ceiling for endless minutes, then he turned around and watched the picture of Sirius on his nightstand. It had quickly become a habit for him to simply watch the picture for some minutes whenever he could not fall asleep, but tonight not even that seemed to work. Sirius waved at him a few times, but then he stifled a yawn and with baby-Harry cradled tightly against his chest sank down in an armchair and went to sleep. So much for that way to distract himself from his difficulties with falling asleep. Harry sighed and turned onto his back again, staring sightlessly at the ceiling in the darkened bedroom. It took more than an hour of endless tossing and turning until Harry finally fell asleep to the sound of Ron's snoring next to him.

At first he thought that he was dreaming again about the night in the Death Chamber. Those dreams always started with that leaden feeling in the pit of his stomach, even before he actually started dreaming something. But it was not the Death Chamber he was seeing, that much became obvious rather quickly. It was a strange dream, because Harry was sure that he had never been in that particular street before. It was dark and only a dim light illuminated the scene from the streetlamps as Harry was walking down it towards the house at the end of the street. Actually, he was aware that it was not him doing the walking, he had the peculiar sensation of witnessing what somebody else was doing at this moment. And he knew that this someone was not alone. It was a strange feeling, one he had had before, last year when he had witnessed the attack on Mr. Weasley. He didn't connect particularly pleasant memories with that feeling, but could not help the rising curiosity as to what this all meant. He was approaching that house at the end of the street, that much was sure, but that didn't explain anything. There was nothing extraordinary about the house, it could be in any English suburb Harry had ever seen. It didn't even have any features which identified it as the home of wizards, yet somehow Harry knew that this was the case.

It was too dark for Harry to see precisely, but a dark shadow stepped in front of him and suddenly the door was open. They stepped through and, as if knowing where to go, Harry moved up the stairs to the first floor. The door to the second room on the right stood slightly ajar, and suddenly Harry felt a wand in his hand, saw him rise it in front of himself as he entered the room behind two of the shadowy figures that had come with him. A man was sitting on a desk with his back turned to them, and a woman was sitting in an armchair with a book in her lap. The woman looked up and shrieked upon seeing them, and the man spun around, his hand reaching for his wand which lay on the table beside him.

"Expelliarmus", a voice next to Harry cried and before the man even had the chance to get to his wand, it flew across the room and vanished in the fold of the dark cloak of the man beside Harry. Then he turned around and the wand in his hand levelled on the woman. It was not his own wand, that much Harry realized despite the strangeness of the situation. Of course it couldn't be his own wand, because it was not really him doing it, because he was lying in his bed at Grimmauld Place and his own wand lay on the bedside table, but somehow it felt so real. It felt as if it should be his own wand that was levelled at the woman. But it was not his wand, and it also wasn't his voice that firmly said "Crucio" upon which the woman fell to the floor and screamed in pain, writhing as if that could somehow ease what she was going through. And as much as he wanted it, there was nothing Harry could do to turn the wand away from the woman. He had no influence on what his hand – or maybe not his hand – was doing.

It wasn't really him doing it, yet in a distance he heard somebody calling his name. Maybe it was one of the faceless shadows who had come with him, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from the woman on the floor, and her screams drowned out nearly everything else. Nearly everything. Yet there it was again, the sound of somebody calling out his name, more and more urgent. Harry, that was him. But if he was Harry, why was he doing this to that woman who had never done him any harm? Why was he torturing her like that, and why didn't he make the screaming stop? His head was starting to ache from the screaming and from all those confusing thoughts, yet the wand in his hand didn't move to point away from the woman.

"Harry! Harry, wake up"

Wake up? He was awake, wasn't he? But maybe he wasn't, at least he had the feeling that he wasn't entirely awake. And there was definitely somebody shaking him.

"Harry, come on. Wake up."

With a sudden intake of breath, Harry opened his eyes and sat up in his bed. His heart was beating fast in his chest, his breathing was hitched and his head felt as if it was about to explode. The scar on his forehead was on fire, sending white-hot flames of pain through his head with every beat of his heart, and Harry immediately clamped his hands tightly against his aching forehead. Only gradually he became aware of his surroundings, the bedroom he shared with Ron at Grimmauld Place. The door to the corridor stood ajar and dim light filtered in from the corridor. Harry could make out Ron's pale face peering down at him, and on his other side Remus was sitting next to him on the mattress, one hand still on his shoulder and a worried expression on his face. Now he slowly realized that it must have been Remus who had called out to him repeatedly.

"Harry, are you all right"

Harry didn't know if he should say yes or no, at the moment he felt both relieved that this dream was over and at the same time afraid to be awake again. Afraid because he would need to face the truth of what this dream had meant. Because he was not really sure that it had been merely a dream. No, in fact he was sure that it had been real, and the searing pain in his forehead was more then enough proof for him.

"Harry", Remus probed again, his voice growing more concerned. "It's all right, it's just been a dream."

Still panting heavily, Harry finally turned his head and focussed his eyes on Remus.

"What happened"

"I was going to ask you the same question, actually. I woke up because you were screaming so loudly, and by the time I got out of my room, Ron was already in the corridor to fetch somebody because he couldn't wake you up. Are you all right"

For the first time Harry noticed that indeed Remus was wearing his pyjamas and looked every bit as if he had been thrown out of bed only moments ago, wand held tightly in his left hand. Ron didn't look much better than Remus did, he, too, had a scared look in his eyes and his hair was still tousled from sleep.

"I don't really know. I think I'm all right. My head hurts, though."

A small frown crossed Remus' face. "Your scar"

"Yes."

Remus nodded. "All right. How about you get out of those sweat-drenched pyjamas, and then we get you down into the kitchen, get something warm to drink into you and then you tell me what's wrong."

He got up from the mattress, picked up a shirt and a pair of trousers from the chair next to Harry's bed and handed them to him. Then he left the room gesturing for Ron to follow. Harry sat on the edge of his bed for another moment, trying to get his bearings again, then he got up and took off his damp pyjamas. He quickly shrugged into the clothes Remus had handed him and then went after them. In the meantime, Remus had put on a dressing gown over his pyjamas and had his arms crossed loosely over his chest as if to keep a chill away. They didn't talk as they descended into the kitchen, and after Remus lit a fire in the fireplace he first set some water for tea to boil, seemingly to give Harry some time to collect his bearings again after the nightmare and his abrupt waking up. Only when the water was boiling and he had filled a tea-pot, Remus sat down on a chair across from Harry and looked at him.

"That sounded bad. What happened"

Harry shrugged his shoulders, not really knowing what to say. He felt a bit silly sitting here talking about his nightmares, but he had the feeling that it was important to tell somebody about it.

"I don't know what happened. I had another dream, like the one I had last year about Mr. Weasley."

Ron's eyes grew wide, but after a moment he realized with relief that this time it could not have been his father to whom something had happened. His parents were here at Grimmauld Place, they weren't in danger. Remus only nodded at Harry's words, but his expression became somewhat darker.

"What do you remember"

"Not much. There was this road which I walked down, towards this house. I didn't really see much, there was nothing that looked out of the ordinary. But there were others with me, I remember that. And then we went into the house, into a room upstairs. There…", Harry's voice got rough and he quickly took a sip of tea before he continued. "There were a man and a woman, and before the man could even do anything, he was disarmed and I…I turned towards the woman and…I cursed her", Harry said in a low voice. "I know that it wasn't really me, but it felt as if I cursed her. With Cruciatus. She screamed, and was in so much pain, but it only stopped when you woke me up."

All the colour had drained out of Harry's face and Remus gently squeezed his shoulder. He too had become rather pale during the past minutes, and now he got up from his chair and walked over towards the fireplace.

"We need to tell Albus about it. If it has really happened, he needs to know. Was there anything you recognized? Something in the house, or did you know who the two people were"

Harry shook his head and drained another gulp of tea. "No, I didn't. Sorry."

"It's all right, Harry."

Remus knelt in front of the fireplace and called up Hogwarts, but it took a few minutes until Albus Dumbledore's head appeared in the fireplace. Harry guessed that even Albus Dumbledore slept at times, because his whole appearance seemed rather tousled just now.

"Remus, what is wrong"

"Albus, sorry to wake you, but I think this is important. Could you come over to headquarters"

"Has something happened"

"Maybe, I don't know. But Harry had a very disturbing dream, and I think you ought to listen to it."

Dumbledore thought for a moment, then he nodded. "I'll be over as soon as I can."

"Thank you, Albus."

Remus sat down on the chair again and gave Harry an encouraging smile.

"I'm sure Albus will be able to make sense of it, Harry."

"But maybe it was only a stupid nightmare. I don't want anybody to fuss about it, if it can as well only have been my imagination."

Remus shrugged. "Maybe it was just your imagination, maybe not. But we'd better find out what's behind it instead of facing ugly surprises if we don't care enough about it now. Albus will sort it out, rest assured of that. How is your head"

Harry shrugged.

"Not so good. My scar still hurts."

Remus nodded and got up from his chair.

"Just a moment, I'll fetch you a potion."

He vanished out of the kitchen, and Harry turned towards Ron with a slightly pained smile on his face. His best friend was still looking rather pale, and he held his teacup in a death-grip.

"I'm sorry for waking you like that."

Ron shrugged, but his expression didn't waver. "It was scary. You were screaming and screaming, and nothing I could do would wake you up. All the while you were clutching your forehead, and I was worried that something serious had happened. Something with You-Know-Who."

"Maybe it was, I simply don't know. But my scar hasn't hurt like that in months, and mostly it only does that because of Voldemort. I want to know what Professor Dumbledore makes of all that."

Ron nodded thoughtfully, and at that moment the kitchen door opened and Remus came in again, a small bottle in his hand.

"I don't really know if it helps against the pain in your scar as much as it helps against normal headaches, but at least it won't do any harm."

He put the bottle in front of Harry and sat down in his previously vacated chair again. Harry reached for the bottle and uncorked it, pulling a face as he got a whiff of the potion's smell. Remus smiled.

"They never smell pleasant. But you should take a sniff on my Wolfsbane potion if you want to know just how disgusting it can get."

"Truth be told, I don't think it can get much worse than that."

His face still a mask of disgust, Harry lifted the bottle and emptied the contents at once, quickly washing down the taste with another big gulp of tea.

"Give it a few minutes, then the pain should at least lessen, if not vanish completely."

It did, much to Harry's relief. The pain did not go away entirely, but just as Remus had promised the sharp sting from his scar was numbed enough for him to ignore it. And maybe the pain would vanish before the effect of the potion stopped. The pain in his scar had always been unpredictable, coming and going quickly and seemingly at random.

It took a few more minutes until Dumbledore finally arrived, minutes during which Harry asked himself over and over again whether it would not have been better just to keep his mouth shut. Well, he could have hardly stopped himself from crying out in his sleep, but he didn't like the idea that he set something into motion which possibly turned out to be merely the dream of a disturbed teenager. But there was nothing he could do about it now, Dumbledore was on his way and he'd tell him just what he had told Remus. Nevertheless, he felt nervous when his old headmaster finally stepped through the door of the basement kitchen.

"Remus, good evening. Or rather, good morning. To you, too, Harry, Ron. What has happened to make you ask me to come here at this hour"

"I'm sorry Albus, but I think it's important. Harry had a dream."

It sounded ridiculous the way Remus put it, but Dumbledore seemingly took it serious. He sat down at the table next to Harry and looked at him.

"Tell me about it."

And so Harry did. He told Dumbledore the dream just like he had told it to Remus earlier. He tried to remember every detail, told Dumbledore everything he could think of, and when it was finally over he felt tired and thought he could fall asleep within seconds if only he was in his bed. Dumbledore watched Harry calmly for a few moments, sipping from the cup of tea Remus had handed him.

"And you are sure that you didn't recognize anything? Nothing at all that seemed familiar to you"

Harry shook his head. "No, I'm sorry. But it wasn't just a dream, I know that. It felt just like it did last year, when I saw the snake attack Mr. Weasley. I've never felt anything like this ever since, until this night."

Dumbledore nodded and thought again for a moment.

"Remus, has Alastor been here last evening"

Remus shook his head. "No, I haven't seen him since the day before yesterday."

"Then we need to find him. I want him to have a look at what Harry said, maybe he has heard something about it. We need to find out if it happened, and where it happened."

Remus nodded and knelt down in front of the fireplace again. While he talked, Dumbledore turned towards Harry again.

"We will find out what happened, be sure of that."

Harry nodded, feeling numb. "I know. But if possible, I don't want to have such dreams again."

"I can imagine that, Harry. Let us hope that it won't become a regular occurrence. But maybe we should think about teaching you Occlumency again."

Harry had not thought that anything could manage to worsen his mood today, but merely thinking about learning Occlumency proved this thought to be wrong. Because there was only one person Dumbledore could be talking about concerning those Occlumency lessons, and that person was Snape. Harry didn't want to have just one more lesson with Snape, be it Potions or Occlumency, last year's experience had been enough of that for him. And besides Harry was sure that Snape would not teach him again. Not after he had stuck his head into his professor's Pensieve last year. Comparing dreams like the one of this night with the feeling he had when Snape was trying to enter his mind, Harry really didn't know which of the two he would chose. If he had a choice, come to think of it. Mostly, people didn't give him one but simply told him to do something.

He was pulled out of those musings when Remus sat down on the chair opposite of him again.

"Moody was home, he's coming over as quickly as he thinks it's safe." Remus pulled a face. "Is it just me, or did he strengthen the wards around his house and fireplace even more during the past weeks? I already thought I'd never get a connection."

Dumbledore shrugged. "Alastor is constantly improving the wards around his house, though I should probably tell him that he needs to make sure that he can still be reached, and quickly in case of an emergency."

At that moment, the door to the basement kitchen was opened – or rather, ripped open – with force and Mundungus Fletcher literally stormed into the kitchen. His foot caught on the hem of his robes, and he slid a few feet into the room before he could stop and disentangle himself. Panting heavily, Dung straightened up and looked at the people around the table. The relief on his face was obvious as his eyes fell on Dumbledore.

"Dumbledore, there you are. Thanks Merlin you are here."

"Mundungus, what happened"

Dumbledore had gotten up from his chair upon Dung's rather abrupt arrival, and so had Remus, who by now was trying to guide the man over to the table. He offered Dung a cup of tea, but the other only grumbled something and with astonishment Harry noticed that Remus took the cup back to the counter and poured a generous shot of amber liquid from a bottle in the cupboard into it. This time, Dung accepted the cup he was handed.

"What happened", Dumbledore repeated.

"There has been an attack this night. On the Bransons."

Harry felt something in his stomach clench together. He had witnessed an attack this night, and he was afraid that it was just the attack Dung was talking about he had seen. After all, just how many attacks could there be during one night? Nervously, he clenched and unclenched his hands under the table.

"Merde", Remus silently cursed under his breath. Harry wasn't sure that anybody except from him had noticed, and surely the curse had slipped out entirely unconsciously.

"How do you know", Dumbledore asked Dung.

"I was in the Hog's Head. I had a…business meeting there with an old friend of mine", Dung said with a slight shrug of his shoulders. Harry was sure nobody in the room wanted to know just what kind of 'business' Dung had conducted in the Hogsmeade pub. "We drank a few beers there, and about half an hour ago people started coming into the pub, talking about something happening at the Bransons' place in Sheffield. I know that pub-talk is normally over-exaggerated, but then somebody said that they had been killed and there was a Dark Mark in the sky. So I went to check with Dodge, knowing that he normally knows which talk is true and which isn't, but he had not heard a thing. I couldn't reach Moody, but after endless minutes of trying I got Kingsley in a safe fireplace. He didn't have much time, but he confirmed that the Bransons had been killed and that as far as the DMLE knows there has been a Dark Mark in the sky. Naturally, the Department was in utter uproar at that time, so he told me he'd get back to headquarters as soon as he could."

Dumbledore nodded, outwardly looking composed, though Harry guessed that he was not half as calm as he appeared.

"Alastor is on his way here, if he doesn't know about what happened already."

Harry listened silently to the adults, feeling completely numb. There were people dead, he didn't know just how many people the Branson family consisted of, but people had died last night, and he was fairly sure that he had seen them die. That he had been present during their last moments, a thought that completely freaked him out.

"Who were the Bransons", he finally dared to ask. He already half-feared that his question would be dismissed with another explanation of how he didn't need to worry himself with those details, but Dumbledore only looked at him calmly and picked up his teacup.

"Sal Branson worked in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He was an Auror, though not on active duty. He coordinated the Department and naturally knew most of what was going on there. He was no Order member, but Kingsley knew him quite well and at times he was of help when we needed information. His wife Celia wasn't working for the Ministry, though."

"She ran a small restaurant in Sheffield", Dung supplied. "No children."

Harry swallowed visibly. He had not seen the man in his dream all that clearly, but the woman was etched into his mind with a brutal clarity.

"She…Celia Branson, I mean. Did you know her"

Dung nodded. "I did. Not well, mind you, but I've been in the place she ran a few times."

"She wouldn't have been about five feet tall, with brown, curly hair and a rather large mole on her left cheek", Harry asked in a low voice.

Dung nodded. "Yes, she was. A bit stocky built, large brown eyes. But the mole on her cheek stands out, that's true. How come you know her"

But Harry didn't even hear the question. His head was spinning with the impact of what he had just heard. It had been Celia Branson he had seen in his dream, it had been just that woman he had tortured…no, the woman he had seen being tortured. And now she was dead, probably killed only a few moments after Harry had woken up. Or rather, hopefully only a few moments after he had woken up. He bit his lip and closed his eyes to stop the room from spinning when suddenly a hand settled on his shoulder and squeezed gently.

"Harry, are you all right", Remus' voice came from beside him. Harry shook his head.

"It was her", was all he brought out, and Remus squeezed his shoulder again. Slowly, Harry opened his eyes. Remus was crouching next to his chair, and Ron, Dumbledore and Dung were watching him with different degrees of worry and confusion on their faces.

"All right", Dumbledore finally said to break the silence. "Harry and Ron, you'd best get settled back to bed. It might sound hard, but there is nothing more you can do tonight. We need to find out what exactly has happened and what it means, and at the moment there is nothing you can do by staying awake. By tomorrow morning we'll see what we're up against."

Ron nodded at the suggestion, but Harry was not overly excited about the prospect of going back to bed. He didn't think he could sleep tonight, and lying in bed would only make him brood over and over again about what he had seen. And he didn't want to see the face of Celia Branson again, contorted in pain as she writhed on the floor. The thought alone sent unpleasant shivers down his spine. Remus noticed his discomfort, but with a last squeeze of Harry's shoulder he released him and got up from his crouch.

"I really think it's best if you go upstairs now. Albus and Dung will surely leave sooner or later, and before the pandemonium here starts you ought to at least try to get some sleep."

Harry shrugged resignedly and got up from his chair.

"All right."

"I'm sure that there is still some sleeping potion left in the bathroom cabinet", Dumbledore threw in. "A slight dose should let you sleep for a couple of hours."

Normally, Harry didn't like the idea of taking sleeping potions. Aside from his failed experiment with brewing one himself a few weeks ago, he also knew that those potions didn't have any effect on the problems that didn't let him sleep. That was, no effect aside from pushing those problems away, they definitely didn't help any to deal with what was bothering him. But the prospect of watching Celia Branson's face as she was tortured for the remaining hours of the night was enough to make him nod immediately.

"I think that would be good, yes. Thank you."

"I'll go with you and get you one", Remus said. Again, Harry only nodded numbly and followed Ron and his former teacher out of the room. In the end he couldn't recall how he got up the stairs and into his room. The next thing he remembered clearly was that he was sitting on his bed, swallowing three spoonful of the potion Remus handed him. The good thing was that the potion took a good effect. Not five minutes later he lay curled up on his bed and his eyes dropped close. It wasn't a Dreamless Sleep potion Remus had given him, but Harry hoped that he was exhausted enough not to have any more dreams that night.