I don't own anything in the Harry Potter world. It is all owned by JKR.
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The day after the battle in Hogsmeade, Harry spent the morning in McGonagall’s office, being interviewed by various Ministry officials. The head of the Aurors wanted to know details about the attack. The head of the Department of Mysteries wanted to know how Harry had known the attack was coming. The Minister of Magic’s office wanted to know if Harry was tipped off by Percy Weasley or if he was in league with Voldemort.
Around one in the afternoon, Colin and his mother came in to let Professor McGonagall know they were leaving. Harry shifted nervously in his chair, feeling responsible for the death of Mrs. Creevey’s son. Colin thanked Harry for trying to help Dennis, and Mrs. Creevey gave him a short hug. Neither looked him in the eyes, however, and this made Harry’s heart sink further. After the Creeveys left, Harry felt utterly exhausted; he chose not to go to his afternoon class and went upstairs to sleep instead.
At dinner, the Great Hall was draped with black banners instead of the usual house colors: the school was in mourning for Dennis Creevey. Harry walked in and looked around. He quickly spotted his friends at the Gryffindor table, Ron and Hermione on one side, with Ginny across from them.
“Harry, how are you?” Hermione asked. “We were so worried about you. Professor McGonagall wouldn’t tell us what the Ministry officials wanted with you all day. She told us that you were resting after the interviews were completed, but she didn’t say anything else. You missed classes; I got your homework assignments.”
“Hermione, let him breath,” Ron said, rising. “Harry, have seat and get something to eat before dinner is over.”
Harry gratefully sat on Ron’s other side.
“Harry, are you sure you are okay?” Ginny asked tentatively. “You’ve never had a good relationship with the Ministry, and after the story in the Daily Prophet and all, we thought you might be in trouble or something.” She looked pale, as if she had been worrying about him all day.
“Yeah, Ginny, I am fine. Thanks,” Harry replied. “So, Hermione, how was your first day teaching?” Harry asked, looking for a change in subject.
“Oh, it was great. I mean, I was really nervous about doing it, but once I got the roll called and the students got settled, it went really well. Of course, there were a few students who thought they could take advantage of me since I’m still a student and all. They’ll be spending some quality time with Filch, I’m afraid.”
“Wow, Professor Granger is a tough old bird, isn’t she?” Ron declared with a grin.
“And don’t you forget it, Mr. Weasley, or you may find yourself spending some quality time with Mr. Filch as well,” Hermione responded.
“Oh, good grief, would you two stop flirting already. I am getting sick to my stomach,” Ginny complained.
Hermione gave Ron a quick kiss on the cheek. “I’ve got some work to do in the library. Harry, when you want your assignments, let me know. Professor Slughorn gave us a foot and a half on the Draught of Living Death, due Friday,” she said as she left the table.
“So how was the first day?” Harry asked Ron.
“Not bad. We didn’t get much homework, and we found out who our new Defense teacher is,” Ron explained.
“Oh, who is it, someone we know?” Ginny asked. “I don’t have Defense Against the Dark Arts until Wednesday, so I haven’t met the new professor yet.”
“No, I’ve never heard of him before. Name’s Scurlock, Panther Scurlock. What a stupid name.” Ron nodded at the staff table.
Harry noticed for the first time that there was a middle-aged black man sitting in the normal Defense Against the Dark Arts chair. He looked well-built, with slightly graying hair.
“He doesn’t seem like a great duelist. In fact, he was a bit clumsy in class today. He tripped over his desk twice and knocked Neville’s wand out of his hand demonstrating a shield technique.”
“Hey, it’s good to disarm someone when you are shielding yourself. That is pretty impressive actually,” Harry argued.
“He was demonstrating the shield to Dean. He just swatted the wand out of Neville’s hand. Neville was standing behind him.”
“Oh,” Harry said, looking worriedly at the new teacher. He was certain that the school needed the best people teaching Defense this year because Voldemort would want to strike here again. “Looks like we may have to start the DA again.”
“Yeah, that may be a good idea,” Ginny agreed, stifling a laugh as Professor Scurlock dropped his fork on the floor and then hit his head on the table while trying to retrieve it. “Yeah, that may be exactly what you need to do.”
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The weeks that followed witnessed the school slowly returning to some semblance of normalcy after the attack and the death of Dennis Creevey. The story of the attack in Hogsmeade had not been in the papers; Harry thought that the Ministry was trying to keep it quiet to prevent an uproar from occurring. The Ministry had had no success in tracking down the Death Eaters responsible for the attack. The few prisoners they did have in custody were not talking, and there was precious little information to be had.
Harry and Ron entered the Great Hall one evening in late September. As they walked to their table, there were many eyes following them. Harry was used to this, but for Ron it was still a new experience. The story of the attack had quickly made its way around the Hogwarts community. All the DA members were considered heroes for their efforts during the attack. Ron, Neville, Harry and Ernie Macmillan, however, had been raised to near-celebrity status.
“Harry, how do you deal with this every day?” Ron asked, looking around the Great Hall. “They all just keep staring at me like I am on parade or something.”
“Just be glad you have a girlfriend,” Harry responded with a grin. “Poor Neville has had a gaggle of fourth-year girls following him around for the past three days. Every time he turns a corner, Romilda Vane and her friends are there giggling at him.”
“Yeah,” Hermione said, coming up behind them. “I saw Neville in the greenhouses earlier today. He said he won’t come out until after dinner, when they’ve gone back to the common room. Poor guy, I think they planned on searching for him after dinner, and the greenhouse will be the first place they look.”
The trio sat down and enjoyed dinner. Luna wandered over a few minutes after pudding, with her normal dreamy expression. “Harry, are we training tomorrow?” she asked.
Since school had started, Harry was still training daily, spending an hour a day in the Room of Requirement dueling with a partner. The duels had become more intense, with Harry and his partner taking on three, and sometimes four, members of the Order at one time. Still, Harry and his partner were able to win more duels than they lost.
“Yeah, Luna, we are scheduled for tomorrow at seven. Remus told me last time that we we’ll be facing him, Bill and Tonks, so be ready for a challenge,” Harry said. He smiled, thinking about the last time he and Luna had partnered in a duel. She’d conjured a flock of pink flamingos to chase Kingsley Shacklebolt around the room, distracting him so that Harry could easily disarm him.
“I’ll be ready. I hope Tonks likes canaries,” Luna replied with a grin of her own and walked out of the Great Hall.
Harry and his friends studied late into the night. N.E.W.T.s were going to be twice as bad as O.W.L.s had been. It was past one in the morning when Harry, exhausted from studying and training, thankfully fell into his bed.
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Harry stood in the middle of the Quidditch pitch. Ron, Ginny, and Hermione were standing in a semi-circle around him. Luna was about ten yards to the right and Neville about fifteen yards to his left.
Sweat ran down his face, as if he’d just finished running a great distance. He was bleeding from a cut over his left eye.
“You can’t win, Harry,” a familiar voice cackled in front of the group. “Lord Voldemort will always be victorious!”
Harry just stood there, rooted to the spot. He wanted to yell back, raise his wand, do something”but his body would not respond. He could only stand and watch Voldemort taunt him.
“Do you know why, Harry, why you can’t win?” Voldemort jeered. “Because you are weak. You care too much for those friends of yours. Even the ones that you don’t care for, you still grieve for.”
Dennis Creevey’s body was lying on the ground directly in front of Harry. He didn’t want to look, but again, his body would not answer his commands, and his vision was filled with the image of Dennis’s body, broken and bleeding, his legs and arms lying spread-eagled on the ground, a blank look in his open, unseeing eyes.
“His blood is on your hands, Harry,” Voldemort sneered.
Harry looked down at his hands. They began to drip with blood that seemed to come from nowhere. Harry tried to wipe them off on his robes. This time his hands would move, but as he wiped off some blood, more would take its place.
“It is no easy thing to kill a person, to be responsible for their death. Harry, how do you cope?” Voldemort asked in mock concern. He then broke out into a maniacal laugh. “You would think, Harry, that after all those people you have killed, you would learn about allowing people to be close to you. Take this sweet young lady.” Voldemort pointed his wand at Luna. A stream of green light fired out from the end. Luna was lifted into the air and the wind rushed across Harry’s face. She fell to the ground, lying exactly the way Dennis was lying.
“You see, Harry, you manage to kill everyone you care about: your pathetic parents, the foul dog you called a godfather, and that fool Dumbledore. Miss Lovegood will be no different. Nor will that Mudblood Granger.” Again, the green light came from his wand and Hermione was struck down.
Harry looked at the Quidditch pitch again. He could now see the dead bodies of Sirius, his parents, and Dumbledore on the ground. The blood on his hands had increased; he continued to try and wipe his hands clean, but they continued to be drenched.
“Longbottom will not survive either, I am afraid. I do believe that Bellatrix will have some fun with him beforehand, but the end will be the same.” Green light and Neville was dead. “The blood traitors will also die. The boy will most assuredly die quickly, probably in some foolhardy attempt to save someone else. You people are so predictable.”
Ron jumped in front of Harry just as the green light erupted from Voldemort’s wand. Ron collapsed. The blood on Harry’s hands amazingly grew in volume.
“Ah, and the little Weasley lady, she will die”although I am sure we can come up with something amusing to do with her before the end.” Voldemort again laughed and fired a final green stream of light. Ginny fell at Harry’s feet.
“All alone, Harry, no one to die for you now, is there? It is just you, with all these people’s blood on your hands.” The blood on Harry’s hands seemed again to grow in volume; Harry thought they must be encased with blood.
“Just all their blood on your hands and then, Harry, then you get to die, with their deaths as your final memory!” Voldemort sneered.
“Avada Kedavra!”
“NO!” Harry screamed.
“Harry, wake up, wake up!” Ron yelled.
Harry was lying in the fetal position, wrapped in his bed sheets, shaking violently. There was a trickle of blood oozing down his cheek from his scar and he was moaning slightly. His eyes were open, but he didn’t respond to Ron, nor seemed aware of the commotion he had caused in his room.
“Neville, go get McGonagall!” Ron spat. “Harry, what happened?”
Harry didn’t respond. “They’re all dead. They’re all dead,” he murmured as he continued to shake. His mind would not release the images of his friends dying. Over and over, in his mind’s eye, he watched as they perished at Voldemort’s hand.
“What is the meaning of this?” McGonagall exclaimed, entering the bedroom wearing a tartan dressing gown. “Mr. Weasley, why are you standing over Mr. Potter’s bed?” The moaning increased and McGonagall noticed Harry in the bed. Something was terribly wrong.
“He needs to go to the hospital wing,” she declared. She withdrew her wand and levitated Harry out of the room. Harry didn’t acknowledge the movement. Slowly he was lowered down the staircase into the common room.
Hermione and Ginny stood at the base of the stairs to the girls’ dorm. They both looked pale and frightened. Other students had noticed all the commotion and were beginning to exit their dorms.
“Go back to your beds this instant!” McGonagall cried.
As Harry’s levitated body reached the bottom of the stairs, his mind brushed across a presence in the room. It was soothing and he felt himself calming down. He latched onto the presence like a drowning man on a life preserver.
Slowly but surely his mind began to return to him. He recognized he was being levitated. He was moving slowly through the common room. Hermione was there; she looked pale and scared. Ron was by her side with his arm around her. Ginny was there too. Who was levitating him?
His full consciousness finally returned to him. He raised the walls in his mind and focused on Ginny. Peace flooded his mind and he relaxed.
“I’m all right,” he croaked. “I’m fine”really.”
McGonagall stopped his progress as she watched his body slowly unfurl from the fetal position. She moved him away from the portrait hole, gently placed him on a couch, and released the spell.
“Harry, what happened up there?” McGonagall asked gently.
Harry was startled by her use of his first name. “I don’t know,” he answered breathlessly. His mind was back, but his body was struggling to regain control. His breathing was ragged. The blood still oozed from his scar.
Ginny placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. He once again was flooded with a feeling of peace and inner strength. His breathing slowed and he regained more control over his body.
“I didn’t focus my mind tonight, and I think Voldemort got in,” he stated.
All the eyes in the room went wide. Fear again began to build in Hermione’s eyes, and Ron become as pale as one of the house ghosts.
“No one is hurt,” Harry quickly exclaimed. “I was the point of this attack. He showed me a bunch of images”my friends dying, Sirius, my parents, Dumbledore, Dennis”and told me it was all my fault. He said their blood was on my hands.” He shook his head to rid himself of the images once again filling his mind.
“That’s rubbish!” Ron exploded. “That sick bastard can’t say that. He’s the one killing people, not you. You are trying to save people.”
“Yeah,” Harry said, dejectedly. “I know. Look guys, I really am okay; I just need to go back to bed. We do have classes tomorrow.”
“No, Mr. Potter. I want you to go to the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey can check you out and we will see about classes in the morning. The rest of you off to bed.” The others began to protest. “I will see Mr. Potter to the hospital wing,” McGonagall cut in with a wave of her hand and a stern look that said the argument was over.
Harry stood up weakly, somewhat thankful for the trip to the hospital wing. He was glad to not have to talk about this anymore tonight. Hermione gave him a hug and Ron patted him on the back, giving his shoulder a quick squeeze. Neville simply waved, offering a weak smile. Ginny stood beside him awkwardly. “I’ll see you in the morning,” she said finally, before patting him on the back as Ron had done.
He and McGonagall left for the hospital wing.
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Several hours later, Harry was still sitting on the bed in the hospital wing. His nerves had finally completely calmed since the vision or dream that he had. His mind, however, was racing. How do I protect them when Dumbledore said they have to be with me in this? he wondered.
Finally, as dawn broke over the lake, and ribbons of sunlight made their way through the window, he made his decision. Feeling more at ease, and exhausted, he rolled over and fell asleep.
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A/N: So there you have it; Harry’s very bad dream. I certainly hoped you liked it. Let me know what you think, good or bad, it’s always fun to hear your views of this story.
I must say that the reference to Pink Flamingos chasing Kingsley around is a nod to an author named Hermione’s Revenge. She has some great humor fics up so if you are looking for a lighter read check her out.
Yet again I owe a big thanks to my pre betas Kerrbear and cableguysmom, also more thanks to my incredible beta JenC for all that she has endured while working on this chapter. Thanks ladies, I couldn’t do this with out you.
Up next, a little angst, a little Quidditch, and a little cat.