Summer
His eyes flew open to stare at nothing but blackness. And he became aware again of the pain burning in his left forearm. He grasped about for his wand and finding it he whispered "Lumos" in a voice hoarse with pain. It was getting darker. For the past thirteen years it had been a dull grey and now it was getting darker. Dumbledore, I need to tell Dumbledore, was the last thought in his head before he passed back into troubled sleep where he dreamed of dark skies and menacing laughter, his arm giving the occasional twinge the rest of the night.