Chapter Eight: Dreams of Death

Wednesday 4th August

BLACK IS DARK AGENT TRAINING POTTER IN DARK ARTS!

PETTIGREW ESCAPES AZKABAN!

By Rita Skeeter

In recent weeks extraordinary events have unfolded in the Wizarding World. First and foremost: Sirius Black is found innocent of all crimes he was imprisoned for in 1981. Secondly: Peter Pettigrew is found alive and subsequently guilty of a number of horrendous crimes and sentenced to Azkaban prison. Thirdly: Sirius Black was given custody of the Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter.

But the Ministry has not been entirely truthful with the public.

On the 3rd July Bartemius Crouch was discovered dead in his home shortly before the body of Auror William Davids was discovered. But another extraordinary thing happened that same day. Peter Pettigrew, the man condemned to Azkaban prison for life, escaped. Is it consequence that these events happened at almost exactly the same time?

The Daily Prophetbelieves otherwise.

Through thorough investigation on this reporter's part, it is quite obvious to the naked eye that Sirius Black is behind these crimes and he is consorting with his Death Eater friend, Peter Pettigrew. You might ask why we believe that and here is our answer: Who else has escaped Azkaban Prison?

Sirius Black of course.

If the Ministry doesn't act now to arrest Black before more hideous crimes take place, the public may one day be mourning the murder of Harry Potter.

Is the Boy-Who-Lived truly safe with a convict who is feigning innocence?

"ARGH!" Sirius balled his fists and slammed his hands down onto the table, snarling: "Bloody Rita Skeeter and her lies!"

"Isn't she the reporter Professor Dumbledore mentioned?" Harry asked, remembering that if Rita Skeeter got hold of the story of Pettigrew's escape he would be having words with her.

Sirius nodded. "Yeah, but she's not scared of Dumbledore. Reporters never are."

Harry picked up the paper reading the front page, a scowl forming on his face. "Could they really take me away from you?" He didn't want to leave Sirius.

"They could, but Dumbledore wouldn't let them. I didn't tell you this before but Cornelius Fudge has expressed some concern that he thinks you should be brought up in a proper Wizarding Family." Sirius bit his lip. "No matter how hard I try, no one is going to believe that I never did those things. It will always haunt us." Sirius shook his head. "Sometimes I feel like it may have been better to leave you at the Dursleys…that I should've waited until the public had got used to the idea that I was innocent. But instead I stuck myself head-first into a situation that was bound to cause conflict."

"You can't change the past," said Harry. "If you could would you really send me back to the Dursleys?"

"No," Sirius shook his head. "I wouldn't. It wouldn't be fair on you."

Harry smiled, glad that Sirius hadn't confirmed his fears that his Godfather was seriously thinking of trying to make amends, though realistically he couldn't. "I had to ask, you know."

"I realised that."

The article hadn't done much damage to Sirius' reputation. The only thing it did was to convince people more that Sirius was innocent, but that was because, unknowingly, on Harry's birthday a reporter (not Skeeter) had snuck to Godric's Hollow, hidden by a disillusionment charm and then taken photos of Harry on his birthday, seemingly enjoying himself. Sirius had been angry that someone had dared to appear and take a risk all for a photo, but Dumbledore had wisely pointed out that it proved that Sirius was not abusing Harry.

So, Rita Skeeter's plan in trying to downgrade Sirius had failed.

But it still annoyed him thoroughly.

Saturday 23rd August - early morning

/Harry was having a strange dream. One minute he had been watching the World Cup, the next he was inside a dark gloomy house that looked like it hadn't been lived in for years. Carefully he cast his gaze around. Why had he been enjoying himself one minute and the next he was feeling apprehensive of where he was? He swallowed, ignoring the feeling of dread that was settling in his stomach.

"Nagini…come here my precious!" a soft voice called from high above.

Harry froze, clearly unsure of where to proceed. He bit his lip. Where am I? Then something slithered past his feet and he jumped, shakily laughing when he saw a snake slither by. It proceeded up the stairs and Harry followed, curiosity getting the better of him.

The snake turned right at the landing and continued its path towards an open door. Harry inched carefully along, barely making a sound. Voices could be heard and as he neared the door, he watched as the snake slithered through. Leaning back against the wall, Harry listened.

It was only then he noticed a presence of another man, an old man, with an old stick supporting his weight. He seemed mystified. Why hadn't Harry noticed him before? But he had no time to wonder over the matter as he heard the soft, slithery voice speak his name.

"I must use Harry Potter. He is the only one I dare use."

If his memory served him correctly, Harry was sure that was Voldemort. But wasn't he meant to be in hiding in Albania? Something was wrong. Very wrong. This is no ordinary dream…he realised.

"He is protected too well. The muggle-loving fool Dumbledore is keeping watch on the boy and Black is a foe few wish to cross. His loyalty to the Potters is pure. He must be disposed off before we can gain access to Potter." It was a voice Harry had never heard of. He swallowed.

"Yes, he must be," the slithery voice spoke again. "The Quidditch World Cup is an opportune moment for you to deliver the fatal blow to Black."

"Yes my lord."

"And then our way to Potter will be clear." The soft voice laughed. "With Black's death, there will be no one to save Harry Potter. He will be mine. The time draws closer…and Lord Voldemort will arise once more from the ashes."

Laughter.

Harry froze and then he heard the voice of the snake, translated in English for him.

"Nagini tells me that an old Muggle is standing directly outside this door, listening to our every word. Well, let's be cordial and invite our visitor in, Crouch."

Crouch? Harry thought. Isn't he dead?

But the man that appeared was not Bartemius Crouch, but someone who looked younger but had an unmistakable resemblance to the deceased Crouch. He was quite pale and had straw-coloured hair. A long nose too.

Harry watched as the old man was pulled roughly into the room. Harry inched forward and stood directly behind the old man. I'm invisible to them. I'm just a spectator, Harry realised.

The old man's voice shook with fear as he spoke. "I've heard enough tonight to know that you're planning murder."

"Am I?" the cold voice asked.

"Yes. And if I don't come back soon my wife will call the police. I daresay they will be deeply interested in what I've heard tonight."

"You have no wife…and you've told no one that you came. You cannot lie to Lord Voldemort."

"A Lord is it?" the old man scoffed. "Well, I don't think much of your manners, my Lord. Turn around and face me like a man!"

"NO!" Harry yelled, but they didn't hear him. He had a feeling of dread of what was about to happen.

"Oh, but I am not a man, I am much more then that…however I will face you. Wormtail, turn my chair for me."

A short balding man stepped forward and Harry felt anger course through him. Wormtail. He was here, helping Voldemort plan Sirius's death. The chair was turned and Harry felt shock form on his face. The old man screamed as green light flashed and he crumpled to the floor dead./

Harry woke from his dream, sweat covering his forehead, his scar burning with such pain that he yelled out.

Immediately he heard footsteps and Sirius burst into his room, running to his bedside. "Harry!"

Shaking, Harry allowed Sirius to help him sit up. Everything that he had just seen coursed through his head. His throat felt constricted but he managed to ask for water. His hands unsteady he took the glass offered and drank three large gulps.

When his shaking had subsided, Sirius looked Harry in the eyes. "What's wrong? I've never heard you yell like that before."

"Voldemort…" Harry replied. "A dream…him, Wormtail and someone who looked like Crouch, but only younger…they were talking about me and…you. They were planning to kill you at the Quidditch World Cup. They said in order to get to me you must be disposed of." Harry felt tears. They wanted to murder his Godfather. The Quidditch World Cup was in two days time. Tomorrow they would leave… "We can't go, Sirius, not if something happens to you."

Sirius was silent, but finally he spoke. "Harry, nothing is going to happen to me. I won't let you lose me."

Harry gulped down the lump that had formed in his throat. "What about Voldemort?"

"If something happens, I can handle it," said Sirius solemnly, but then he brightened up, smiling at his Godson. "There is nothing on earth that is going to make you miss the World Cup."

But Harry couldn't get the feeling of dread out of his stomach.

He feared for Sirius' life.

He couldn't lose him.

I just can't.

To be continued...