Chapter 1 : Chapter One
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Harry reached a small hand up to scratch his forehead. Or to be more specific, the lightening-shaped scar on the right corner of his forehead. The scar had never bothered him before, so why now? It was only a few weeks since he’d turned ten years old, and last night, the most horrible dream had woken him, sweaty and panting. He should not have been dreaming of such dreadful creatures. Then again, he should not have had the bruises on his stomach from the beatings given by Dudley earlier in the week, or the aching feeling in his chest whenever he saw his aunt and uncle at the dinning table with his cousin talking and laughing like a family. Without him. He did not have an exactly ‘normal’ childhood, which may have explained last night’s nightmare…
A girl was all he could remember. With scorching, brilliant blue eyes, being chased by an unknown fury. She was frightened, terribly frightened, running from something she knew would kill her…or worse. This girl, perhaps the same age as Harry, fell off the horse she was using to run away. No, not fell, pulled…
Slowly the dream came out of the foggy memory of Harry’s subconscious mind, and he could recall more details. Scraping her hands on the leaf-covered ground… Whipping her face around to the beautiful, horrifying creature before her, she closed her eyes and prayed for death to find her quickly. A piercing, smoldering flame licked the skin on her neck…
Harry should have not looked up: he was only begging for more taunts from his huge buffoon of a cousin. But he did. A knee-jerk reaction from being startled from his own thoughts.
“Ha ha ha! You looked! My god, you really are stupid! Ha ha!” Dudley roared.
Even being only a year older than him, Dudley was a giant. A huge oversized oaf. A gigantic baboon. Thinking of these insults made Harry smile slightly, the corners of his mouth curving up.
“What are you smiling about?” spat The Oaf.
Giving his cousin the new nickname that, of course, he would never say aloud, made Harry’s smile arc into a full-blown grin. At that, Harry’s cousin prepared to storm over, fists ready to begin hitting him. Dudley leaned back on his heals, and Harry translated that movement as fair warning for what he was about to do.
At that same moment Harry’s mind filled with one image. Only one: the blazing blue eyes of the frightened girl of his nightmare.
Gasping awake, it took Harry a few moments to make sense of his surroundings. Ron’s snores stuttered in the bed next to his, and then picked their steady rhythm back up.
Of course, Harry thought, letting out the breath caught in his lungs with a sigh.
He was in Number 12 Grimmauld Place, rescued from the Dursley’s, and newly returned from the hearing at the Ministry. It almost got him expelled. Dumbledore had come to his rescue, but never uttered a word to Harry, which made him uneasy. Sirius, however, had been ecstatic to see Harry, a mirror of his own feelings.
The reunion had been wonderful, but it was apparent that war had aged Sirius, Lupin, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and Mad-eye Moody severelt. A thinner version of the man he had been two years ago, Sirius did look better out of the filthy Azkaban uniform, which was the only memory Harry had of him until now.
Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he thought about what he’d just dreamt. Harry hadn’t thought about that day in years. Why his mind would choose that specific memory to dredge up tonight, he didn’t know. He’d been having nightmares every night, but this one was different. Like he it was a nightmare about a past nightmare. Ugh… Harry rubbed his head. Recently, his bad dreams had been about Cedric, the graveyard –
Harry shook the memory out of his mind roughly, but he could still feel it weighing heavily on his chest. He always dreamt of that night.
Hogwarts started in two weeks, and he wasn’t too eager about beginning his fifth year. The incident with his last Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher didn’t exactly put him on excited terms to meet this one.
And then there was his anger…
He had already snapped at Ron and Hermione, and it had been boiling in him before then. It was getting worse, even just from the beginning of the summer. Ever since the graveyard, he… Harry shook the thought out of his head again and impatiently threw the covers off his body, standing and walking towards the window.
When Harry arrived, he was told there would be new additions to the Order, but he didn’t know much about that yet. It made him uneasy to think of another new member…someone unknown. A Daily Prophet lay on the ground near Harry’s feet. The headline read ‘The Boy Who Lied’. Harry kicked it away, pressing his hands against the cool glass.
Harry’s mind returned to his dream… Why did he see those eyes at the end? The dream Harry recalled as his nine-year-old self was very real. He had had that nightmare when he was young – about the girl running away. But he hadn’t thought about it in years. Why now?
Harry returned to his bed, wanting more sleep and praying his mind would be kind to him. As Harry slowly glided into sleep, his mind remained on the little, frightened girl, and the dream itself; the dream, or rather nightmare, was chopped strangely into separate, out of order, and haphazard pieces. His mind was on the edge of the cliff. All he had to do was fall and he would be asleep, but he could not bring himself to lean over.
Restless and annoyed, Harry struggled on the edge on unconsciousness. He imagined those eyes again, piercing sapphire, and immediately he was calm. He needed a peaceful place – somewhere that didn’t exist anywhere but in dreams. The eyes lingered as he drifted into nothing…into peace…
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