Nightmares

The Southernmost Bed in the Western-most Bedroom, Mount Paozu, China

"…Goodbye, Son. I love you…" Goku placed his first two fingertips to his forehead and vanished…

"…Yet another fighter YOU could have saved…"

"…Goodbye, Son. I love you..."

"…Yet another fighter YOU could have saved…"

"…Goodbye, Son. Goodbye…goodbye…goodbye….goodbye…goodbye…bye…bye…"

Cell's evil patronizing grin filled his vision. "Yet another fighter YOU could have saved…"

"NOOOOOOO!" Gohan sat up, drenched in sweat and panting heavily. "Daddy!" he sobbed. It had been three full years since his father's death, and he still had nightmares.

"Gohan?" a small childish voice asked uncertainly. Gohan jumped. He kept forgetting he shared a room with the boy now.

"Go back to sleep, Goten," Gohan said, immediately calming. The toddler ignored the command and rushed over to his big brother's bed, crawling in. He pushed the sweaty bangs from his older brother's forehead, planting a kiss.

"Lie down," the toddler instructed. Gohan complied with a small smile. Goten wrapped his stubby strong arms around Gohan's chest. " 'Kay, now cwose yo eyes." He did. Gohan felt his covers being pulled up to his chin. "Don't wowy, Gohan. I'll pwotect yo. Nofink wiw happen to yo." Gohan felt his brother crawl beneath the blanket with him and wrap his arms around him again. Gohan wrapped his own arms around the tiny half Saiyan, sniffing his hair. He even smells like Father.

A few moments later, the room filled with a couple of soft snores.

Top Bunk, Guest Bedroom 1B, Capsule Corporation, West City, Japan

A beautiful woman with long, raven hair and sparkling violet eyes was running down the streets of East City. She had led her chaser from the direction of her home, protecting her husband and newborn daughter from the cloaked figures. She saw a decision up ahead…she turned to the left.

It had been the wrong choice. A dead end. She whirled around to see the cloaked figure approach. "Mmmm, this scene is familiar, I think. Do you remember, pretty little mudblood? Same people, different circumstances. Now tell me, what do you know about the disappearance of the Dark Lord?"

"I'll never tell you!" she spat.

"Really? I disagree. I think you'll tell me. Crucio!"

The woman screamed in pain.

The man relented, chuckling. "Tell me what you know," he said quietly.

"Voldemort!" she spat. The man yelped, clutching his left arm. She began chanting the name, the man sinking to his knees and baring his teeth.

"STOP THAT!"

She rose to make her escape, still saying the name repeatedly.

"Avada Kedavra!" He weakly managed. The woman collapsed to the pavement. He rose, panting. "Clever little thing, even without a wand," he muttered as he turned and vanished.

Videl's eyes opened, her heart pounding.

Bottom Bunk, Guest Bedroom 1B, Capsule Corporation, West City, Japan

"!" the box wailed.

"Would you stop doing that? Why do you have to be so annoying?" Hermione said in exasperation.

The box moaned softly. Hermione shook her head. She thought she had been doing pretty good, not being stuck inside her head with the Pandora in over two weeks. But tonight, as soon as her eyelids had drooped, she had found herself in the somewhat unpleasant company of the gilded cage.

A silver wisp began to emerge from the crack. Hermione sighed. She expected it, but that didn't make it any more pleasant.

It wiggled free and sped toward her. Hermione braced herself as the strand slammed into her consciousness.

Flash—

Hermione was in the front of a decent-sized white cottage. She saw a small, bushy haired toddler sitting in the grass, playing with a colorful orb. Suddenly, a garden snake slithered across her leg. The child's focus shifted as she lifted the creature with a fist.

"Pweety," the child said in a hissing, soft voice.

Hermione heard something similar to a chuckle. "Why, thanksssss. I can't say you're a well mannered child, because you are squeezing me rather tightly." The baby relaxed her grip. The snake slithered around her chubby arm and slithered away, chuckling as it went.

Hermione's eyes slid open. She pulled her diary out from beneath her pillow and turned on the light above her bed, writing her latest memory.

"Hermione?" A female voice said tentatively.

Hermione jumped. "Videl? What are you doing awake?"

"I had a bad dream. I think…I think I just saw my mother…"

Hermione frowned thoughtfully. She ripped a sheet from her journal and passed up a pencil. "Write it down…it'll make you feel better."

The Smallest Bedroom, Number Four Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey

He was in a house… a rather large, elegant house that looked like it hadn't been lived in for decades. Though it was currently being occupied. A fire was lit in the grate. Someone…or something was stirring fitfully in the armchair, and a man in a hooded cloak was crouched over. He was portly, had fearful, watery eyes, and an unpleasant simper.

"There's more in the bottle, my Lord."

"Later," a cold, clear voice said. "Move me closer to the fire, Wormtail." The hooded man complied, scraping the chair noisily across the wood floor. "Tell me about Harry Potter's friends."

"Y-yes, my Lord. Harry Potter has two close friends, Ron Weasley—"

"The blood traitor, naturally."

"—and Gohan Son."

"Tell me more about him."

"They say his father is from another world, possessing qualities similar to a Squib."

"And the mother?"

"Completely Muggle, my Lord." Wormtail said.

"Heh. I suppose there's filth in every corner of the universe. What else?"

"He's very strong, my Lord. He defeated Cell twice, and—"

"Cell? Isn't that the creature you told me tried to destroy the world?"

"—and turned into a giant ape the night I escaped. The full moon happened that night."

"Heh. An alien were-ape? That's…unique. And he defeated a creature capable of destroying the earth? How clever. But tell me, Wormtail. Why do you hesitate to speak about the girl? The mudblood?"

"N-n-no reason, my Lord," Pettigrew stammered.

"Liar," the voice from the chair said. "Tell me, Wormtail, or I will fetch it from you."

Wormtail jumped back, shielding himself. "My Lord, please—"

A stick pointed out from the chair. "Legilimens!"

After a few moments, the wand lowered. "I see. She isn't a mudblood at all. The daughter of Selena Subaru," it said in an amusing tone. "I wonder what Harry Potter thinks of her pedigree, if, in fact, he's even aware of it? Does anyone know of her patrilineal heritage?" it asked in a threatening voice.

"If anyone knows, it's Gohan Son. She's incredibly close to the boy."

"That won't do at all. I will want plans for little Miss Subaru, and they won't involve some dirt-veined alien mutt!"

Wormtail stared, completely at a loss for what to say.

"Wormtail, there's one last thing…I'm not entirely certain I want you knowing about the girl. After all, there's no telling what someone might do if you accidently let slip the identity of my daughter."

"Y-your d-d-daughter, my Lord?" Wormtail looked shocked.

It pointed its wand once more. "Obliviate! So tell me Wormtail, what do you know about Harry Potter's mudblood friend?"

"The girl, my Lord? Nothing much to tell…big hair, big teeth, bookworm…that's about all, my Lord."

"Good, good. Where is Nagini?"

"I don't know, my Lord. She set out to explore the house, I think."

"You will milk her before we retire. I will need feeding in the night. The journey has…tired me greatly."

"My Lord, may I ask how long we are going to stay here?"

"A week…or longer. It's moderately comfortable here, and we cannot hope to proceed with our plans until after the World Cup."

"Forgive me, my Lord, but why do we wait until after the Quidditch World Cup—"

"Because, fool, every single Auror and Ministry of Magic security will be on duty, checking for suspicious activity, double checking identities. They will be obsessed with security. Therefore, we wait."

"Y-Your Lordship…is determined then?"

Certainly I am determined," the voice said firmly.

"It…it could be done without Harry Potter, my Lord."

There was a moment's silence. "Without Harry Potter? I see…"

Wormtail continued frantically. "My Lord, I don't say it from concern for the boy! The boy means nothing to me…nothing at all! It's just…we could use any witch or wizard…it could get done faster! If you allowed me to leave for a short time, I could bring you a suitable candidate—"

"I could use another person…that is true…"

"Yes, my Lord! It makes perfect sense. Laying hands on Harry Potter would be so difficult…he's well protected—"

"So you volunteer to fetch me a substitute? I wonder…perhaps the task of nursing me has become wearisome for you, Wormtail? Could this suggestion of abandoning the plan…be nothing more than a ploy to desert me?

Wormtail looked startled. "No, my Lord! No! I have no wish to leave you at all—"

"Don't lie to me! I can always tell. You regret ever returning to me. I can see that I revolt you. You cringe when you look at me…shudder when you touch me…"

"No! My devotion to yo—"

"—is nothing more than cowardice," the voice finished for him. "You had nowhere else to go. Otherwise you wouldn't be here. How would I survive without you, hmm? Who would milk Nagini? A few days alone would rob me of what little health I have."

"But you seemed much stronger—"

"Liar. I'm no stronger. Silence!"

Wormtail's sputtering ceased.

"I have my reasons for using the boy, as I have already explained to you. Thirteen years I have waited, a few more months will make little difference. As for the protection surrounding the boy, I believe my plan will be effective. All that is needed is a little courage from you, and courage you will find, unless you want to suffer the wrath of Lord Voldemort!"

"May I speak?" Wormtail said desperately.

"Certainly, Wormtail," the voice said in cruel amusement.

"I've reviewed the plan many times in my head…Bertha Jorkin's disappearance will not go unnoticed for long…and if we go through with it…if I kill—"

"If? IF? You will follow the plan exactly as I've laid out, Wormtail…No deviations! You will perform it quietly and without fuss. One more death. One more and our path to Harry Potter will be clear. You won't be doing it alone…my faithful servant will be going with you.

"I'm…faithful," Wormtail said resentfully.

"Heh. You are only faithful to your fears, Wormtail, and you know it! I need someone with brains AND loyalty, and you have neither."

"I brought you Bertha Jorkins."

"Yes. A stroke of brilliance I never thought possible form you; though admittedly, you probably didn't know exactly how useful she was going to be—"

"I…I thought she might be useful."

"Liar. I don't deny her information was invaluable. Without her we would have never been able to form our plan. You did well, and I shall reward you. I will give you the pleasure of performing a task many Death Eaters would give their right arm for."

"R-r-r-really? What is it?" Wormtail stuttered in a terrified voice.

"I wouldn't want to spoil the surprise. Your part will come at the end, but I promise, you will be just as useful as Bertha Jorkins."

"Y-y-y-you are g-going to k-k-kill me?"

"Wormtail, why would I kill you? I only killed Bertha because I had to. She was completely useless when I was finished with her. Her mind was completely wasted. Besides, we didn't want her going around babbling about running into us in Albania—what's that? Ha ha! Yes, we could have modified her memory, but it was so much better to just finish her off. Besides, memory charms can be broken by powerful wizards, just like I have proven with Bertha Jorkins."

Suddenly, a giant snake slithered into the room. The voice began hissing and spitting without drawing breath.

"Nagini, has some interesting news, Wormtail."

"Really?"

"There's an old Muggle standing outside the door listening to every word we say. Kindly go show him in."

Wormtail scuttled over to the door and threw it open, revealing a hardened old man with a cane startled in surprise. His fearful face quickly recovered.

"Invite him inside, Wormtail! Where are your manners?"

Wormtail beckoned with a finger. The old man limped into the room, his walking stick clunking on the wood floor. The snake curled up on the rug near the hearth.

"You heard everything, Muggle?" the voice asked coldly.

"What's that you're calling me?" the old man barked indignantly.

"I called you a Muggle. It means you are not a wizard."

"I don't know what you mean by wizard, but I've heard enough to interest the police! You've murdered, and you're planning to do some more! My wife knows I'm up here. She'll get suspicious if I'm gone for too long."

"You have no wife. No one knows you're here. Don't lie to Lord Voldemort, Muggle, because he knows…he…always…knows…"

"Is that right?" The old man said roughly. "Well, I don't think you have good manners, milord! Why don't you turn around and face me like a man!"

"Oh…I'm much…much more than a man, but why not? Wormtail, turn my chair around."

Wormtail whimpered.

"You heard me! Turn my chair!"

Wormtail shuffled over and noisily rotated the chair. The snake hissed angrily.

The cane clattered to the floor, the old man screaming. The thing in the chair raised a stick and said something, causing a green light to fill the room. The old man hit the floor with a thud, clearly dead.

Harry sat up in his bed with a gasp, clutching his searing scar.

The Largest Bedroom, Number Four Privet Drive, Little Whinging Surrey

"What's the matter, little tubby? Can't you run any faster?" The boys cackled as the chunky boy hobbled fearfully. The boys on bikes pelted sticks and rocks at him. "Go, fat boy, go!"

The boy finally reached his house and got to the door. He reached for the knob. It wouldn't open. He reached in his pockets, but couldn't find the keys. He rattled the door in fear as the menacing children approached on foot.

"Aww, what's the matter? Your mum and dad out on holiday? Get him!" The children surrounded him and began beating him—

Dudley Dursley woke with a loud start. It had been several years since the incident. He could remember like it was yesterday. If Harry hadn't been at home that day, Dudley would have been beaten far worse that he was. Still, the memory was troubling.

Dudley snuck quietly downstairs. He needed something to get his mind off of it. He reached into the ice box and quietly shifted all of the health foods that were stacked up front. There it was: the triple fudge ice cream block. Dudley snorted at his mother's naiveté. Surely she didn't think her husband was going to surrender that easily. He chose a stool and sat, driving his fat spoon into the creamy substance.

Suddenly, the box was snatched away. "That's not going to help," a familiar voice said quietly.

Dudley glared at him. "Mind your own business, Potter! Hand it over!"

Harry smirked. "You want this? You're going to have to fight me for it."

Dudley scowled. "Give it to me!"

"Careful, Dud. You don't want 'Mum and Dad' to hear, do you?"

"I'll just tell them I caught you sneaking it! They'll believe me!"

Harry sighed as he pulled the spoon from the box, handed it to a surprised Dudley, and returned to the box to the fridge. Dudley licked the spoon clean. "You know, Dud, eating your way through your problems doesn't solve them. You need to learn to face your fears."

"Who says I'm afraid?" Dudley challenged.

"I do. Everyone's afraid of something. I'm afraid of something."

Dudley's eyes widened. "You? Really? What are you afraid of?"

Harry sat.

Highest Bedroom at the Top of the Winding Stair, The Burrow, Ottery St Catchpole, Devon

He dropped his teddy in shock. It began twisting, contorting. It sprouted eight long legs. It kept growing, growing, growing…until it was half the size of the Ford Angola. It clicked its drooling pincers menacingly at him.

He screamed as it approached. He backed into the wall…there was nowhere else to go…it pounced at him—

"!" Ron sat up, screaming at the top of his lungs. He panted hysterically as he heard thumping on the stairs. He felt himself being pulled toward someone and hugged.

"It's all right, Ronald." An adult, feminine voice said as she rocked him. "Just another nightmare. Shh."

Ron closed his eyes, breathing in the comforting smell of his mother.

Second Highest Bedroom at the top of the Winding Stair; The Burrow; Ottery St Catchpole, Devon

She shook her head in horror as he emerged from the pages. "No…no…this can't be happening…" she whispered.

The teen stood to his full height and turned to face her. He smiled unpleasantly. "Hello, Ginny. I've been expecting you."

"No…I thought you were my friend. You…betrayed me. Y-you used me. I HATE YOU!" she shrieked suddenly, collapsing weakly from the effort.

The boy laughed coldly. "Poor, sweet, stupid Ginny. It's a shame to kill someone that has been so…useful…"

"You…can't…please, Tom! Please!"

The boy smirked. "But I have to, Ginny. You see, I'm going to be reborn from your power. You will die, and I will cease to be a memory. But there's one thing I'd like you to do before you die—"

Ginny sobbed weakly. "Please, Tom.."

He crouched by her weakening body. "I would have you call me Lord. I am, after all, the greatest sorcerer in the world. One day, everyone will fear to speak the name Lord Voldemort!"

Her eyes snapped in shock. Tom is You-Know-Who? She fell backwards from her sitting position, her vision spinning.

"Say it. Call me your Lord," he said in a suddenly serious voice.

"No!" she spat, her head weakly sinking to the floor.

He wrenched her up by her hair, pulling her face to his. She cried out from the pain. "Say it."

She stared fearfully.

He tightened his grip. "SAY IT!"

"M-my Lord," she whispered.

A wildly happy look filled his features. "That's my pretty girl…now DIE!"

Ginny felt herself slowly falling away—

"NOOOOOOOO!" she sat up, her heart racing. She heard another cry nearby and two pairs of footsteps racing up the stairs. Her door opened with a slam, her father pulling her into a tight embrace.

"It was him again?"

Ginny began sobbing hysterically.

Broken Ice Chest; Abandoned Clayton's Factory; Winchester

She strode purposefully, silently to an isolated table in the library. Selecting a seat as far away from the spotlight as possible, she ducked her head and worked silently, hoping to attract as little attention as possible.

"Psst! Hey, horse!" Malfoy whispered. "Hey! I'm talking to you!"

She sighed and looked up. "What do you want?"

He sneered. "Nothing. I just wanted to stare. It's not every day you get to see an equine wearing clothes." He held up some straw. "I brought you a snack," he tossed the straw on her library books, cackling with his group as he strode away.

Her eyes popped open with a start. She glared up at the old conduit in the building. She had lived in the warehouse for four years, sleeping in the upturned insulated freezer…ever since her Muggle mother had died.

She hated her mother. She hated her for being so weak. She hated her for succumbing to death and leaving her. She hated her for leaving her penniless...although admittedly, that was her father's fault, too. But most of all, she hated her because she loved her. It hurt like hell to lose her. If she hated her mother, she loathed her father. That drunken, gambling, slacking, wizarding fool that had abandoned her mother as soon as she got sick…if she ever got her hands around his miserable neck…

Mill sighed. She hated her life. She hated where she lived. She hated school. She hated Draco Malfoy…but she'd never say that aloud. Malfoy was Slytherin's poster boy…Slytherin's prince. If she wanted to survive, she'd keep silent. The tears lid down her cheeks. She angrily brushed them away, silently.

Silent Mill.