Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any other related stuff.

Chapter VI: Dreams

Diagon Alley had an eerie silence cast upon it. Smoke rose from the charred buildings. The air was hazy and had an acrid smell to it. The soft fall of footsteps upon the cobblestone street broke the silence. The sound announced that Order had arrived. Over the past months the members of the Order of the Phoenix had dwindled. So many had been killed or captured by Death Eaters. New reports came in every day, but the downcast members had fought on. They knew that this would be the final day, for better or for worse. The last of the Horcruxes had been destroyed and now the final battle was about to begin, good versus evil.

The members walked in silence, waiting for the Death Eaters to strike. Harry Potter led them farther through the war torn street. Harry Potter was their last hope. His haggard appearance did not prevent his emerald eyes from shining. If Harry Potter had hope, the rest of them did as well. Suddenly he held up his hand for them to stop. Dark shadows were slinking behind the vacant windows of store- fronts. Soon they were surrounded by black robed figures, wearing white masks. So the Final Battle began.

Neville Longbottom stunned the first Death Eater who came his way easily. As he went on it became harder and harder. They were losing. The Order was hopelessly outnumbered. Many on both sides had fallen, but it was impossible to figure out who was dead and who had just been stunned.

Before Neville knew it, he was surrounded. Nine—no, ten leering Death Eaters had their wands all pointed at him. Neville knew it was hopeless, but he did not want to go down like this. When he died, he wanted to be a crusty old man who had lived his life. He decided right then that he would not go down. Despite any odds, he would not allow himself to be brought down. He struck swiftly at the nearest Death Eater, gracefully dodging the curses sent by the rest.

Looking at a distance, one might have thought the fight was choreographed. Neville struck and moved at exactly the right time. One after another, the Death Eaters went down. Some would get back up, but just to be knocked down again. A glow radiated off the area. A great power emitted from Neville himself. Soon not a single one of the ten Death Eaters remained standing, or in possession of a wand.

A man sat in an eight foot by eight-foot cell. His once well-kept hair was now matted and filthy. His uniform was even worse. Shackles chained him to the cold stone wall. His eyes were alight as he told the prisoners in the surrounding cell about the man who had sent him there. He was not bitter; he was glowing with admiration for the man. He had never seen anyone display such a will and determination. To him it was the finest performance he had seen in his lifetime.

A few other prisoners had fought this man and their admiration could not be clearer. They had no love for this man, after all, he had caused them to be sent to Azkaban, but they had a great amount of respect for him. "To the most admirable son of the light," they said, toasting the man with their crude bowls of soup.

Eyes, brown eyes stared at the stars intently. He sat next to the brown eyes. They looked sad. Sad brown eyes. The stars seemed to taunt the eyes. The stars twinkled, divulging malicious insults. The eyes disappeared.

He ran. He ran through a jungle. Vines keeps out of their hiding to snap out at his ankles. A distant roar was heard. He ran faster. Brush slapped at his face, cutting into it so it bled. He tripped over a large root, but he just got up and kept running, trying to prevent fear from ravaging his body. He reached a clearing and stopped. Up ahead was a waterfall. The water ran cold and clear. At the top was a pale figure with a shining red mane crowning it. With arms spread it stepped off the top, falling into the water below. It never went under. Instead, there was a sickening snap. The figure floated toward him, floating in the water on its back, its brown eyes gazing up at the sky, lifeless.

A woman with wispy white hair sat on the edge of a bed. She smiled as she smacked on a piece of pick bubble gum. Pink bubbles filled the air around her, contrasting against the dark of the white walls. "Did us proud," she said softy, slightly humming as she looked at a picture on her nightstand. "Proud."

He was in a hallway. It was dark. A dim light was at one end. Footsteps clopped toward him. Fear caught up with him. He tried to run, but he could not, so he stood up tall and proud. Something was coming; something was there...

Neville woke up panting. His skin was soaked in a cold sweat. He had never had a dream quite like that before. Sure, he had had nightmares but none measured up to that one. Half memories, part too real not to be true, part what might be prophetic symbolism, or just random thoughts. But, what did it mean? Or did it mean nothing, just the jumbled thoughts of a troubled soul? He thought it must have some significance, though. Neville, growing up in the magical world, knew that dreams could be more that what they seemed.

Neville got up and made himself some tea. It was too early to open his shop and it was too late to bother going back to sleep. As he shuffled through his cupboards for some tea, there was a tap at his window. He looked up to see a brown owl. Quickly, he let the owl in and untied the letter from its leg. The letter had red seal and the parchment looked fancy. Neville hesitantly broke the seal. It was not that he wasn't curious about what it contained, but he also was hoping that it wasn't anything bad.

Dear Mr. Longbottom,

You are invited to a campaign event supporting Harry Potter in his run for Minister of Magic. This is a formal event, to be held on Saturday, November 5th at the Potter Mansion. Drinks start at six o'clock to be followed by dinner and dancing...

Neville read no farther. His ripped the invitation into tiny pieces and incinerated them. Harry just wouldn't give up, would he?

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A/N : Thank you to everyone for reading and/or reviewing (although I sincerely hope the reviewers read as well). Sorry that the chapter was shorter than normal, but I had an itching to post something and I have been working on this chapter for quite a while. Anyway, I must give credit where credit is due, I must thank Riye Link Reue, for without his/her review this chapter would not have been written. Thanks to all once more!

---Perplexity