Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling deserves all credit

When Nightmares Are A Good Thing

Chapter 13: Confrontations...almost.



The door to the drawing room was slightly ajar when Harry approached. He took a calming breath, trying desperately to organize some spare cover stories, should he need them.

The door closed behind him and Harry was certain that Dumbledore cast a silencing spell as well as a locking spell to ensure that he did not try to run. He fought the bitter snort that surfaced when he considered that he might be able to undo the Headmaster's locking charm wandlessly.

"Please have a seat, Harry," the man with the beard said in a cool voice, his blue eyes twinkling as usual.

With a sigh, Harry walked over to the chair in front of his Grandfathers but did not sit yet. He stared at his new shoes and chose his words carefully. He didn't really know how he felt about the man in front of him, but he most certainly did not want to be rude to him.

"Headmaster," Harry greeted in a tone that was only slightly warmer than he would have used against Snape.

Silence rang as Dumbledore interpreted the use of formality with his name and the freezing bite that was presented along with it.

Harry sat in his chair, but did not lean back or get comfortable. He glanced at the door before resolving to gaze at the clock on the wall behind Professor Dumbledore's head while he waited for him to initiate the conversation that he had called him in here for, as Harry was not going to contribute willingly. This meeting was not going to aid the fight against Voldemort it was merely an idea of friendliness, presented to Harry so that things may return to normal again.

But things were not okay, given what Harry had found out during his stay at Privet Drive. If his Grandparents wanted to keep secrets from him by not telling him that they were related then he would keep secrets by not telling them that he knew. They wanted it this way therefore it seemed prudent that he respect their wishes.

"Well, Harry," Dumbledore spoke, stressing the use of Harry's name to prove that he was not going to back into the trap of formality again just because Harry had. "I believe I called you in here to discuss a few private matters of which you know nothing about yet."

The boy's heart pounded furiously as he struggled to maintain his stare at the clock. Was he going to tell him of his "unknown" heritage?

"This is going to be a very touchy subject but I thought it best to inform you of it rather than catch you off guard. You may not wish to discuss this yet but I am afraid that there is not much of a choice in the matter."

Harry's mask slipped to one of confusion. What was he talking about?

"You see, Harry, when we induct a person into the Order we suggest that they make out a will. This may sound morbid to you, but it actually a very well organized precaution. They are only needed if death befalls an Order member."

An icy knot was twisting inside Harry's stomach. He felt as though he had swallowed an enormous icicle.

Dumbledore continued on, "Yes, Sirius wrote one out. It was placed inside a Gringotts vault of which all of these types of letters are written. Though they are not official, they state instructions and last requests from the owner as well as the bequethment of possessions. Sirius's will will be fetched in a few days time to be read."

Harry gulped lightly and lowered his eyes to the sleeve of Albus Dumbledore's robe. He should have expected this. Of course Sirius would have a will, but that did not mean that Harry wanted to read it. Reading it would almost like signing off his life forever. To divide up all his belongings and fulfill his last wishes seemed almost like washing dishes; free of remaining residue so that no one would be able to tell who had ate on them last and ready for the next person to use. It was not a very appealing notion.

"I understand that this is going to be hard for you but there are many people here to-"

"Yes, I know," Harry cut him off, not wanting to hear the rest. To turn the subject away from where it was headed, towards how he was feeling since Sirius's death, Harry asked, "It hasn't been retrieved yet?" as he was struck by a sudden idea.

"No, it has not," was the simple answer.

"Sir, would it be too much of a problem to ask to have my own will placed into the vault?"

The elder man looked about as startled as Harry had ever seen him look before. True, it was not very startled for a normal person but Albus Dumbledore was hard to surprise, therefore even a tiny bit was a large difference.

He could tell that he was being surveyed but said nothing as he continued to stare away from Dumbledore's eyes.

"If you wish it so, then yes. I will make instruction for your own will to be placed into the vault along with those of the Order."

Harry couldn't tell as he was not looking at Dumbledore, but he suspected a look of tired graveness.

"Thank you, sir," Harry replied levelly.

"You are quite welcome."

"Would you mind if I retrieved it now?" Harry asked. He wanted to be done with this now. Waiting till later would procure a second meeting.

"Not at all," the Headmaster stated. Had Harry looked that time he would know for sure what his Grandfather looked when shocked. He had certainly not been expecting Harry to have already written it.

Walking brusquely up the stairs, Harry thought to himself about what Sirius's will would contain. He approached his room and shut the door behind him. A lock and silencing spell later Harry spoke the Parsletongue needed to achieve access to his will. When he had it safely in his hand, he looked it over, checking the seal. It could use an extra charm but Harry considered whether or not an anti-opening charm would make Dumbledore suspicious or not of his abilities.

When Harry made his mind up he took all the charms off the paper and slipped it into his shirt pocket.

When he arrived back at the drawing room he glanced at the Headmaster's face while he was looking over the wall opposite of him. He seemed tired and older than usual. Harry mentally shook off a sigh as he closed the door and retook his seat.

"Umm...sir?" Harry handed his will over to the professor who inspected it carefully, running a finger under the edge of the envelope but not opening it.

"Do you mind if I spell it impenetrable until the event of you death?"

That was exactly what Harry was hoping for and nodded his head. He knew the incantation himself and was about to offer to touch the parchment, as was needed for the spell, but stopped realizing that under normal circumstances he wouldn't have known that spell.

Dumbledore explained the spell to him and implied that in order for the spell to work, it had to be keyed into Harry's magical signature. The envelope would only be able to open with his magical touch and since this was a will, Harry wouldn't be opening it. When his magic dissipated from the world, then the spell would be null and void.

When the spell was in place, along with several of the Headmaster's fire, erosion, and water repellent charms.

"Thank you," Harry said when the will was placed into the old man's pocket for temporary keeping, "but do you think you could ask whomever takes this to the vault to not mention that I have a will?" The teen didn't go into detail on why it was important to him to keep this a secret; he assumed the Headmaster knew, like always.

"Harry, I must admit I am still curious as to your latest Voldemort vision. I presume that you wrote all that you could remember but I think you should probably re explain it," Professor Dumbledore said gently.

The green eyed boy sighed softly before once again studying his shoes, "I went to bed at about nine o'clock that night. I have no idea how long after I fell asleep that the dream started or at what time I awoke. I was alone in some sort of a dirty chamber. Reminded me of the dungeons except more cave like. A few moments later a death eater entered. I killed him on the spot. I have no clue what the name of the person was, but I knew that they were responsible for the foil in a plan. I think I had already sent for them before I was entered into the vision. Does that make sense?" Harry asked, not wanting to have to back track.

Dumbledore replied, "Yes, I believe so. Please continue."

So he did. "Anyway, I summoned certain death eaters. It took another minuet after killing the first death eater for the ones I had called to appear. They were all wearing their masks so I don't really know who they were as only one of them spoke; Bellatrix Lestrange. I had explained to them that the death eater I had killed went slack on security of one of my prisoners. I said that the prisoner was to be guarded with the utmost protection, as I couldn't risk letting him get away. I don't know who the hostage is but I know that whoever they are, they are important to his next plan. Without that prisoner, his plan won't work.

Next I crucioed a few of the crowd for something or other, I'm not sure what. All I told them was that they had dissatisfied me in some way. That's when Bellatrix spoke. She asked if she could play with they prisoner. She started to say something else but I interrupted her quickly and gave her a bout of my crucio for almost letting something slip to the other death eaters, I think. I didn't say but..."

He pause his story for a moment to remember the rest. It had been so weird to look at himself as Voldemort. His slit like eyes glowing red...

"I then looked down at her and saw my reflection in a puddle of water. I was looking at myself but I had Voldemort's face and body. That's when I woke up and wrote to you." Harry trailed off.

The Headmaster seemed to be considering his story. Out the corner of his eye, Harry took a peek and saw that Dumbledore was rubbing one hand over his bearded chin.

"Well, perhaps we should look into whom this prisoner could be, next order meeting," he said at long last.

The boy nodded in agreement. He suddenly felt the Headmaster's eyes on him.

"Harry, please look at me."

Professor Dumbledore's voice had a pleading tone folded into it and he seemed to be very upset that Harry would not look him in the face. Part of Harry wanted to continue to ignore the man as he had been treated that way for an entire year, but the other part told him that it was childish to play this cat and mouse game when there was a war being fought. He looked up and straight into the blue eyes of his Grandfather.

Harry couldn't ever remember seeing the man look as old as he did right then. His expression was a mixture between on of begging and relief; relief that he gotten his way or that Harry was cooperating? He pushed that thought away as Dumbledore spoke again.

"My dear boy, I would like to apologize once again for the way I chose to tell you of you fate. I have thought it over many times now and I wish, as most of us do at times, that I could take back my actions and replace them with the correct ones, but I can not. I am not quite sure what I am most sorry for; the pain that you have no choice to bear and the horrible weight that you must bear, or that fact that I cost myself all the trust we had by inflicting unwanted pain."

Those words seemed genuine to Harry. How could he be mad when here was his Grandfather apologizing to him and meaning it! There was of course the issue with their relationship but perhaps he had good reason for keeping it secret. Harry couldn't blame him for not admitting their relation to other.

Another sigh escaped Harry's lips and he nodded his head. He couldn't bring himself to say he forgave him because he wasn't sure if he had. Instead, he said, "And I am very sorry about my attitude and for the destruction of your office. Might I suggest you not lock me in a room even again? I don't like being locked into rooms with no way to get myself out."

Chuckling came from Dumbledore's mouth, although Harry didn't laugh. He was serious. Having been locked in a cupboard for ten years had apparently had some effects on Harry that he hadn't fully realized.

Professor Dumbledore's voice interrupted his thoughts. "It's quite all right. As I said I have too many possessions," he paused before carrying on, "Now that you have had time to fully think over our conversation, do you have anymore questions?"

The boy thought carefully then said, "Why didn't you tell me sooner? It's a bit late to start training in earnest. I mean, I could have paid more attention to my studies and been further along to fulfilling the prophecy by now."

"Ah," Dumbledore said. He frowned slightly in thought. "Harry, have you ever heard of a muggle named William Shakespeare?"

Green eyes blinked in confusion. Since when did a person go from talking about a prophecy to muggle authors?

"Yes, I have."

"Have you ever been given the chance to read any of his works?"

"Yes. When I was given Dudley's...Dudley stores some of his unwanted possessions in my room. Books are always being discarded onto the shelf in my room. After my first year at Hogwarts I got board as Dobby was stopping all of my mail and started reading some of the books on the shelf. Two of them were plays written by Shakespeare, but I don't know what muggle literature has to do with my prophecy."

Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling again as he brought his fingertips together in front of him. "Is there any chance that one of them was 'Macbeth'?"

"Erm, yeah. I didn't read it all because I didn't quite understand everything," Harry mumbled.

"Yes, well you were only 11-12 years old at the time. Quite understandable that you did not comprehend everything as it's a very complex plot. As for muggle, William Shakespeare was. His wife, Ann Hathaway, however, was not. She was a witch." Dumbledore waited for Harry to process. "Would you please recall what you did read?"

Harry racked his brain to remember the plotline. "Well, someone tells the main character, Macbeth that he's going to become King but he goes mad and kills a bunch people," he said.

Somehow he seemed to be missing something major but Dumbledore only smiled at him before taking out his wand and conjuring up a book that read "Macbeth."

He handed it over to Harry. "I believe you'll find that there is a more interesting device in the story that should aid some of your more trying life questions."

Harry frowned. He hated it when Dumbledore spoke in rhymes!

On that note, the Headmaster undid the locking spell to release them both from the room.

"Remember to continue clearing your mind at night," Dumbledore reminded him.

Harry nodded and said, "Goodnight, sir" before bounding out of the room and past the rest of the household that were gathered in the sitting room before the fire.

When he reached his room, he went to his trunk and pulled out some pajama pants to change into for bed.

He threw his pillow onto the floor and commenced his exercises. He was only at 28 when his stomach began burning again. Harry gasped in pain and surprise. Why was it hurting so much lately? The pain only intensified as Harry forced himself to separate himself from the pain long enough to finish the number of repetitions that he had set aside. A blinding sting was pulsing through his abdomen.

It took nearly thirty minuets before it subsided enough for Harry to climb into bed to read the book the professor had conjured for him.

It was five in the morning when he had read the book from cover to cover. He understood the story well, but could not pin point what it was that Dumbledore had meant for him to find. Surely he wasn't trying to tell him that he was becoming arrogant like Macbeth! That had indeed been the ultimate cause of death.

Harry did not sleep that night as he tossed about his bed, turning the play over and over in his head. He had, several times, relit a light to go over certain part of the book, scouring for what he had missed. Finally, when he saw that the clock read seven-thirty, he resolved to ask Hermione about it after he had had words with Ron.