The vivid, vivid dream he had just experienced was terrifying enough. Added with the heart-felt, venomous glare the guard of the room gave him upon his awakening, Harry felt like cowering in a dark, safe corner for a while.

Sadly, it was not possible. His whole being felt heavy and lethargic, and a spot on his chest throbbed as if with remembered pain.

But indeed, it was where the poisoned sword had pierced Hathaldir, killing him almost instantly…

Nono, he would not – he was Harry—

No, Hathaldir—

No, Harry—

"Boy," the black-clad man growled lowly. If Harry could cringe, he would. It was like Uncle Vernon speaking it to him; while he had been almost successful blocking that memory out of his mind.

"Yes?" he croaked. If the man was anything like his uncle, things would be worse if he did not answer.

"What was in your thick skull, barging into unknown rooms like that?"

Well, the reaction seemed to be true to his uncle's character so far…

"I don't know, Sir." It seemed the only honest thing he could say safely.

But apparently, it was not enough for the man. Before he could snarl something hurtful though, another person materialised in Harry's field of vision and greeted him grimly: "Harry."

Ana; and she looked horrible, with puffy, blood-shot eyes and frail bearing. Harry much preferred an angry or vindictive Ana to this alien representation of the girl he had gotten to know. It hurt him terribly, somehow.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. But it did not seem enough. Nothing would probably ever be enough. He just hoped – desperately hoped – that his friendship with Ana and her family had not been irrevocably damaged.

And where was he? Where was Ardila?

"In your room."

Oh, it hurt. Her curt tone stabbed deeper than the unnamed man's had been.

"Ardila?"

"In hers."

"How is she?"

"Same."

`Argh, Ana…`

"You should've known better."

Harry shifted on the bed, trying to alleviate the pain Ana's distant attitude caused on him. He froze mid-way curling into a ball however, when she suddenly asked, "Who were you?" How did she know? Was this an ordinary occurance in the family? It was scary…

"Hathaldir," he whispered, his voice shaking alongside his body.

She shook her head, sniggering madly. "It's back, then," she said, dropping into a chair and clutching her face with her hands.

"What do you mean?" Harry peeked out of the folds of his arms, baffled and even more alarmed.

"Dila always got that, and last time I was dragged into it."

"Who were you?" He could not believe his daring, but the words were out before he could prevent it.

"Andreth."

"Is this like…."

"Disease? Perhaps. We call it Ardila's Cyndrome."

Twistedly fitting, Harry thought, feeling like sniggering madly himself. Meeting this side of the twins could unhinge anyone, he supposed.

But if she had been Andreth, the oldest of the ruling House when he had been Hathaldir… "Who's Ardila?"

"Emeldir."

His mind shut down.