Nightmares

888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

"Take this."

"No."

"NOW!"

"No!"

Harry Potter squirmed and yelled for help in his deep sleep, waking himself. He breathed deep and deliberately for a moment, then closed his eyes and reopened them.

As he reached for his glasses, he thought about the dream. That figure in the dark gray robe…with gleaming gold teeth and long, crusty fingernails…who was he? Or she?

Its voice had been high pitched and almost trancelike, as if it were trying to hypnotize him.

Into taking the potion…the vial of violet-ish liquid.

What was that fluid, anyhow? In the background of Harry's dream, familiar people of the past and of the present were drinking it. Hermione Granger was there. Ron Weasley was there. Cedric Diggory, Harry's mother, father, and Sirius Black were there, all drinking the contents of the mysterious bottle. Plus, oddly enough, he'd been the only one refusing the potion.

One more person had been there…Draco Malfoy.

He'd been standing in the corner, simply watching everything, those grey eyes surveying everything, with no expression at all on those pointy pale features.

This was all very odd and confusing. This was Malfoy he was thinking about. There should have been a flicker of a smirk, an evil grin, a look of fear, something, anything.

But no. Nothing at all. Not even a trace of that infamous smirk.

Truly frightened now, Harry shot out of bed and glanced at the door. Hopefully the Dursley's hadn't heard anything.

The black-haired boy listened for a moment, but there was only silence.

He knew what he had to do. And he was going to do it.

888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

As the Knight Bus slowly pulled up to the Weasley residence, he swallowed, hoping someone was awake.

Anyone would be fine, even Ron, as clueless as he was. As he approached the door, his hand poised above the doorknob, he stopped.

Was it too early? No, he decided, he absolutely had to tell Mrs. Weasley (or Hermione) about the dream. One of them would know what to do.

Before he lowered his hand, Mrs. Weasley answered the door.

"Harry, dear, what on earth has happened? It's early, and not even the end of July!"

Breathing deeply and shakily, he started to speak.

"Mrs. Weasley, I'm having dreams again. Disturbing ones. Not of Vol—I mean, You-Know-Who, but, um, of someone else."

"Who, dear?" asked Mrs. Weasley, a certain panic in her voice.

"That's—that's the thing, Mrs. Weasley. I don't know…I…I was at Godric's Hollow. My parents were there, Malfoy was there, Ron and Hermione were there...and—and Cedric too," said Harry, nearly whispering the last name. He deliberately left out Sirius, not knowing if he could say that name without crying.

"What was happening?"

"We were drinking a sort of potion, at least, everyone else was. I wasn't. I kept refusing, and…the person—if it was a person—almost forced me to drink it. I probably would have if I hadn't awakened."

Mrs. Weasley stared at him sternly. "I want you, Harry, to go to sleep again. When you wake up, come and see me. Is that clear?"

Harry gulped and nodded.

"All right then, off you go."

Harry went to the Weasleys' spare bedroom, the one he always slept in. Technically it was Fred and George's old room, but now that they were gone, it almost felt like his.

It was quiet the next morning…a little too quiet. He slipped out of the bed and into his shoes, then, as quietly as he could, opened the door. The door squeaked slightly, but no one seemed to notice. He could see them all downstairs, whispering to each other.

There was hardly any light outside, and yet all of his friends were up. Ron had a peculiar look on his face, and Hermione, who seemed to be holding back tears, was gripping the chair so hard her knuckles were much paler than Draco Malfoy's face.

Mrs. Weasley was saying something. Harry couldn't hear what Mrs. Weasley was saying, but it sounded awfully serious, judging by the helpless yet serious tone of her voice.

Harry couldn't take it anymore. He swung the door open the rest of the way and ran down the stairs.

"What's going on? I heard voices and I knew someone was awake. And you're all down here. So what happened?" he demanded.

Mrs. Weasley glanced at Hermione helplessly. Hermione shook her head and looked at Ginny, who had been looking nervously at Harry the whole time.

"Harry," Ginny began, "don't take this too hard, but…Professor Lupin was killed last night."

"What?" Harry exclaimed. "No! It wasn't a full moon! First Cedric, then—Sirius and Dumbledore—and now Lupin? It can't be! It wasn't a full moon!"

Ginny bit her lip, then Ron's mother spoke.

"You're right, Harry, but it wasn't an accident. He was killed by none other than Bellatrix Lestrange." The plump woman's voice was bitter as she said the last bit.

"Why?" Harry's voice was small and pleading.

Hermione snorted and said, "That woman is a killer, that's why."

Harry sank into a nearby chair and rested his head in his right hand.

Ron, who hadn't said anything about this incident, finally spoke.

"What did she do to him?"

Hermione snorted once again. "Avada Kedavra, of course."

Mrs. Weasley, who was getting a bit fed up with Hermione's bitter attitude, said, "Not exactly, Hermione. First, she tortured him, and then she used Avada Kedavra."

Harry groaned. "Please stop talking about this! I didn't need to know!"

"Oh, Harry…" Ginny began, but Ron stopped her.

"No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."

Harry nodded wearily. This was one of the worst nights of his life.