In Divination, we were assigned a dream journal. We were not required to write in it every night, because some people didn’t dream every night, but I usually did. It was interesting to write down what happened in a dream, because when I remembered what had happened, it was like I was reliving it. It was as if I was living a fantasy. I was doing everything that I couldn’t do in real life. I could fly without a broomstick, or turn invisible without an invisibility cloak.
Nightmares were always written down, as well. It wasn’t like I wanted to write them down, but they were interesting to examine. Apparently, the nightmares I had were because of extreme stress, and I could calculate when the next one would happen by my stress level. I mean, they had kind of been happening more frequently since I had received that letter from my mum. And being Head Girl didn’t help that much with my usually high stress level, either.
Scorpius wasn’t really one to write in his dream journal. In fact, he didn’t dream very often, according to him. And according to the Professor, that basically meant that he was never going to get anywhere in the Divination. I mean, it wasn’t as though he was going to go anywhere with Divination, but still… In class, we would examine our dream journals, and he would have nothing written down. He couldn’t tell me anything, even after I showed him the bowels of my mind in the night. It was almost embarrassing. Still, I liked keeping a dream journal. Years from now, I could look back at the journal and write a book based on my dreams or something.
Okay, that was pushing it a little.
“Are you writing in that silly dream journal again, Rosie?” Albus asked, coming up behind me. It was early in the morning, and I thought I had been in the only one in the common room. Unfortunately, though, my cousin seemed to know every move I made before I made it. Even my brother didn’t care that much about me. But Albus was jokingly unfriendly to me—but still the nicest person in the world, ironically—while Hugo was just a brother. It was annoying how much the younger Potter son knew about me.
“Yes, Al, I am. What are you doing up so early?” I inquired, looking him up and down. He smiled at me and took a seat on the couch, stretching and yawning loudly. I rolled my eyes, and looked at him for an answer.
“What did you dream about?”
I sighed. There was no way I was going to win this battle, even if I had asked him what he was doing up first. He would find some way to get me to answer before him. I handed him the page with my newly written dream on it. It wasn’t yet complete—there was a lot that had happened in my dream last night. But it would satisfy him for now, and then he would not bother me for the rest of the day.
This dream started off a little different from other dreams I have had in the past. It was in black and white, something that doesn’t usually happen. The scene was set in a forest. It could have possibly been the Forbidden Forest, but it was hard to tell in black and white. It was warmer than it is in reality, so it would have to take place in the spring or early autumn. The trees were tall, and they were not allowing light to pass through their barriers. The ground was covered with rocks and twigs.
I was running through the forest, bare-footed. My feet were killing me; pebbles were digging into them, and I knew that they were bleeding. My hair was wild, blowing all around my head so I could barely see anything. I was breathing hard—so much so, that when I woke up, I was almost hyperventilating. I knew only after a few minutes that this wasn’t a dream; it was a nightmare.
“Scorpius!” I cried. I could feel the tears streaming down my face. It was like a finger running down my cheek, and in a minute, it was. Scorpius was in front of me so suddenly. I would have been shocked had I been awake, but because it was a dream, I just collapsed into his arms and let everything out. He just held me and let me cry.
Then, suddenly, he was gone. I was running again, and screaming his name, “Scorpius! Where is my best friend?” There were people following me. I didn’t know who they were or why they were following me. They looked different—evil, somehow. And looking back, it looked like one of them was familiar to me. One of them looked like the parent of someone I was very close to. It looked like
“Who?” Albus asked, looking up at me so suddenly that I flinched. I was reading along, remembering the moments in my dream of pure fear. Even when I was in Scorpius’ arms, I was afraid. He was there so suddenly and then gone. My best friend… I couldn’t ever tell him about this nightmare. He was never in any of my dreams. And I would never “collapse into his arms” as I did in the dream, nor would I tell him that was what I had dreamed happened. That’d be embarrassing. Not to mention it could totally kill a friendship.
Not that I liked him or anything. It would just be awkward. We’re not the hugging type.
“Um,” I muttered, looking away from him and hoping that he would take that as my answer. But, being Head Boy and a Potter, I highly doubted that he would. “I don’t really think I am obliged to tell you. You may be family, but you don’t need to know every detail about my life. Or my life when I’m sleeping. Hopefully you’ll never find out what happened in the rest of my dream—or who that person was. It’s not like it will ever happen.”
I was pretty much sure of that. Still, I didn’t want to be the one to say that and have it happen. Although, why I would run through a forest bare foot, screaming for Scorpius was a mystery to me. I considered myself smart, and running through a rock-covered ground with no shoes on didn’t sound like a great idea. I didn’t know anyone who would disagree with me. And the mysterious people following me in the dream? Yeah, I’m no threat in real life. I have no enemies—that much I was positive of.
Okay, maybe my dad and mum had a lot of enemies, but most of them had given up their grudges or died. And why would they come after little ol’ me? I was a cute little red head. I wasn’t exactly sure Scorpius’ father loved me, but he didn’t completely hate me. And if I could score points with him, I could score points with anyone. No, scratch that. If I could score points with Astoria Malfoy, Scorpius’ mother, I could score points with anyone. Mr. Malfoy was definitely nicer than she was. But I think she liked me more.
Still, I had to make sure that they liked me enough not to come chasing me through the forest. Especially because the one I recognized in my dream was his father.
Breakfast did not come soon enough. I finished writing in my dream journal after Albus left, and worked on an essay for Transfiguration. By the time I had finished the essay, I still had a full half an hour until breakfast began (yes, that was how early I was up). But eventually the time for eating came, and I could find Scorpius.
He was the last one to come into the Great Hall, it seemed, and yet he looked as though he had gotten no sleep at all. He sat down in between my cousin Lily and I and put his head on the table, simply resting. I said nothing to him—it was nice to see him so calm for once, to see him breathing in and out and not have to worry whether he was going to be alright.
“I’m here today. Aren’t you happy?” Scorpius asked me, taking the seat opposing me at our table in Divination. I didn’t say anything, but I acknowledged his presence by smiling back at him. I could tell that he didn’t really want to be here—he didn’t even want to be at breakfast this morning. He was slumping over, his elbows on the table.
Professor Firenze, who had completely replaced Professor Trelawney a few years back, was making his rounds to each table, seeing what people had written in their dream journals. He would never set a date to go around and look at what people had written, mostly because he wanted to see how many people actually did it. The people who did complete the assignment usually did because they either predicted that the Professor was going to go around and check the following day, or the people that did it were just good students who wrote in it all the time (even if they didn’t necessarily dream; they would make it up).
I could hear the centaur applauding some people for what they had dreamed about, telling them that they could possibly see the future through their dreams. I also heard him sighing when he got to a couple of students with empty journals, or dreams that he knew were made up on the spot by the lack of detail. I was only hoping when he got to mine that he said something promising.
He went to Scorpius first, who, for once, had actually written something in his dream journal. While mine was at least twenty pages in, he was only a few. The professor picked it up and read through it, looking extremely serious at what was on the page. Then he placed it back down in front of Scorpius, nodded (probably meaning that it was acceptable, but nothing special) and moved onto mine.
I watched his eyes flicker across the page, flashing as he started a new line. Then, his eyes dashed back up to the top, and I felt my heart lurch. Had I forgotten to add something, making it seem confusing? Or was it just incomprehensible?
“This is very interesting, Ms. Weasley,” he said, closing the journal. He didn’t hand it back to me, though. “This dream seems very serious. I have heard talk of some events outside of the school, affecting our world and the other. As you said near the end of your dream, you feared there were connections between your dream and what I am going to assume is what I had heard about.” He handed my journal to me, and I clutched it tightly in my hands. “This is very interesting…”
That was all he said before he walked away. Scorpius was eyeing me, looking confused. “What, are you a Seer now or something?” he asked, completely seriously. “First the palm reading, now dreams that have connections to… to the thing that’s happening with my father, and that whole thing? I mean, the thing with my father is part of this whole thing. What happened in your dream?”
I opened my mouth to say something, but no sound came out. I was holding he journal in my hand even tighter now. “Do your parents like me? No, do they hate me?” I ask him instead of answering the question he had asked me first. He looked taken aback when I asked this, but the look of shock was replaced with a look of confusion right away.
“They don’t hate you,” he replied slowly. “They hate you less than they like some of my other friends, I know. But you aren’t really on the top of their list in terms of liking. It’s just because you’re a Gryffindor and you’re a half-blood, I think. They’re still living in the past. You know that. My mum’s family was entirely pureblooded, and so was my father’s. I don’t really think it has anything to do with our families not getting along while they were in school or anything, though.”
It was a relief enough for me to relax and fall back against my chair. So, my dream could never happen. Not that I believed that Draco Malfoy would come running through the forest after me anyways. And I didn’t believe that he was even involved in the mass Muggle killings. Nothing was going to happen to me. Or Scorpius, for that matter. Still, to be safe, I figured that it would be a good idea to send my father a letter telling him to leave Mr. Malfoy alone.
So, after class, that was exactly what I did. It was short, but it got the point across.
It was a problem, though, that for the rest of the day, I could not stop thinking about that dream/nightmare. Even at dinner, my cousins and brother would say something to me, and I would completely miss it. It wasn’t until Hugo shouted my name that I noticed anyone was trying to talk to me in the first place.
“I think you’re studying a little too much for the N.E.W.T.s, Rosie,” he said, rolling his eyes at me. I shook my head and bit into a chicken leg. “Did you hear what I said about the Daily Prophet? The headline today?” I shook my head once again, and I heard Albus snicker beside me. Oh, if Scorpius had been sitting with us for supper, he would have been rolling on the floor laughing by now.
Hugo slapped down the Daily Prophet in front of me, and I picked it up to get a better look at it. I dropped the chicken leg with a clatter onto my plate and clamped my other hand down onto the other side of the paper, straightening it out. The headline read:
5 Muggles Dead, 2 Wizards Arrested
And I was positive that Scorpius would not be laughing.
Author’s Note: Well, finally. So, I thought I would have this chapter up super fast since my sports stuff ended, but I lied, apparently. I found out about NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month), and so I started planning out my thing for that. That killed a ton of my time. So, that took up all of October, and then the National Writing Month started in November. I had to write a 50,000+ word novel in a month. That was super intense. I thought I was gonna die. I wrote 4,000 words a day (well, I wrote a chapter a day, and each of my chapters was 4,000+ words). Why can’t I write a 4,000 word chapter for this?
But I WON! WHOO! I finished my first 50,000+ word novel. December was for editing, so I did some of that. Plus, there was holiday break. By the way, Happy New Year! I have been writing on this site for almost thee years.
Still, I know my writing skills are a ton better, but I was not at all pleased with this chapter. Well, I liked the beginning, if you want my honest opinion. But the middle to the end was completely awful. Oh well, maybe I’ll still get some good reviews.
Scratch that, I hope I get reviews in general.
Well, have a Happy New Year, and I will seriously update faster. I have more free time than I did before, so it won’t take three months to update the next chapter. If it does, we have a serious problem…