“No, no this is not happening. I’m imagining things, that’s all. Too much work, and stress, and… and...”
Ellen took a couple of deep breaths, trying to calm herself down. She was very close to a mental breakdown. After she gave a small, fake wave to some students who had heard her swear, she carefully picking up the paper from the cold grass, and opened it again.
Last night, the Asunder family was murdered by the Dark Lord, although Muggle police are blaming it on a carbon monox- Ellen stopped reading. The picture next to the story unmistakably had the dream girl in it, whose name was Camille.
Ellen could hear the sound of laughter floating from an open window, creating a melody with the heavy beating of her heart. The wind was crisp against her face, and blew her scarf over her shoulder, but Ellen paid no attention.
“This can’t be happening,” she muttered under her breath, looking around at the half deserted grounds. “I’ll prove it!” She dropped the paper and ran into the warm castle, abandoning her books and papers on the ground.
Once in side the castle, she ran in the direction of the Ravenclaw tower to find Molly. Luckily, Molly was on her way down the curved stairs, so Ellen ran right into her.
“Hey, Ellen, I was just on my way to the feast-”
“Quick, Molly, give me yesterdays Daily Prophet!” Ellen interrupted her, panting and holding out her hand. Molly looked very confused, but rummaged through her bag nonetheless to find a copy. She pulled it out and gave it to her friend. Ellen flicked through it, eager to prove herself wrong, to find nothing out of the ordinary in the black and white paper. But upon page four, the downfall of her thought appeared. The paper slipped out of her hands, and she gazed at the stone wall, not really seeing it.
“Ellen? Ellen, what’s wrong?” asked Molly giving Ellen a small shake. Ellen looked at Molly, but her mind was far off, replaying the dream of a man who she had dreamt the Dark Lord killed; the man who the paper, on page four, now claimed to be dead.
“Three nights ago, I dreamed that he killed a man. Now, yesterday’s paper says he is dead,” Ellen recalled slowly, not wanting to reach the conclusion that would ultimately be arrived at, the conclusion she had already reached out on the grounds. Ellen was a logical person. And now, she was relying on that logic to find a fault in her words.
“Camille, two nights ago, and replayed again today…” Ellen turned to Molly, who looked very confused, and a tad frightened at her friends babbling. Ellen’s face was drained of all emotion with the inevitable conclusion; her grey eyes fixed on Molly’s brown ones.
“The people in my dreams…I thought they were just dreams,” moaned Ellen, stress and fear on her face.
“They are just dreams, Ellen-”
“No! They’re real! He’s killing them, and I’m watching it happen, only- I’m not watching it happen at that moment, because Camille wasn’t killed that day! So I’m- I’m seeing…” Ellen trailed off, not speaking the second conclusion, what couldn’t possibly be true: “The future.” Ellen started to shake, not even bothering to brush away the tear that fell down her face.
Molly was really frightened now, and her brown eyes had turned a shade darker. “Ellen,” she said, her voice tight and high, “the dreams are just dreams. They don’t mean anything, and they are not the future! Ellen!” she screeched, for Ellen had taken off running. Molly ran after her, and followed her right into the Great Hall, where most of the school was already assembled, seated and waiting for the Halloween feast to begin. Ellen stopped in the doorway, oblivious to the chatter and hundreds of voices that laughed and joked.
“Ofh!” Molly puffed as she ran into Ellen, having caught up to her. “Ellen, why are you-” but she broke off mid sentence, for Ellen’s face scared her into silence again. “Ellen?” Molly questioned softly.
Ellen, who had already scanned the head table and found the empty seat of the one person who could help her, had turned to Molly.
“Where’s Dumbledore?” Ellen asked, panicked. Molly frowned.
“I don’t know, do I? He’s probably in his office- hey!” yelled Molly as Ellen took off again, this time in the opposite direction.
The noise of the feast lowered immensely as Ellen ran away from it, ran through the school as fast as she possibly could. As she reached the third floor, she paused for a second to catch her breath, leaning up against the cool, marble wall, but then started running again, all the way to the seventh floor with out pause.
Upon reaching the seventh floor, she stopped against the wall again, completely out of breath. Her focus started to slide in and out, and she felt like she was being dragged down. Ellen fought to keep the wall in her vision, but darkness swallowed her.
And everything changed.
A high-pitched noise filled Ellen’s ears, and she found herself outside a small cottage. Ellen spun around, taking in the crisp air that rushed around her, the sounds of children laughing, dressed in costumes.
And then she saw him: Voldemort was strolling up the path to where she stood.
Ellen knew it would be like Camille all over again; this was the future. Someone was going to die. And she was going to see it happen, all the while not being able to do anything about it.
Ellen’s mind exploded with anger. She tried to force the images out of her head, trying to make it all stop.
More people were screaming now. It wasn’t just one person, like it had started off as, but now it was twenty voices- all yelling, all shattering.
All the people Voldemort had killed, all the screams and pain that he had caused, replayed in front of Ellen in a haze, the Halloween scene still unfolding clearly in front of her.
She knew she had to tell Dumbledore, quickly, before Voldemort succeeded in killing whomever he was trying to.
Ellen closed her eyes, focusing on what the seventh floor of Hogwarts looked like. She felt a jolt, and opened her eyes to see a carpet beneath her. But she wasn’t out of the vision completely. Half her sight was obscured by the vision, still going.
She looked up, panicked, to find a foggy Dumbledore strolling towards her, having just exited his office. She stumbled up to him, clutching her head.
“He’s killing them, and I can see it!” cried Ellen, gasping for breath. “You have to do something”- Voldemort had pulled out his wand, and the green light was soaring towards a man with jet-black hair-“or he’ll kill them, too!”
Dumbledore looked utterly confused and anxious. “What are you talking about Miss Desed? What is it?” But Ellen couldn’t answer his question. She had reached her limit of power; she couldn’t push away the full vision any longer. She felt herself being consumed by the darkness; she lost sight of her true surroundings: the walls, Dumbledore, and the stone gargoyle down the hall.
All she could see now was Voldemort and a red-haired woman, and all she could hear was the screaming.
“Get out of my head!” she screamed. “Get OUT!”But the images didn’t disappear, and the screams that tormented her didn’t stop.
Ellen had nowhere to run. She wasn’t in the real world anymore, and where can one go if the thing hurting you, is you?
Her safe space, the one and only place that she could go for peace, was gone. Voldemort was in her head, the future was in her eyes, and fear was in her heart.
“NO!” screamed Ellen as the red-haired woman was hit by the green light. And the darkness was growing as the vision was ending, and Ellen was falling into it all with no end in sight: people were screaming and the blood red eyes were laughing at her.
And then Ellen was enclosed by darkness, listening, as her own scream faded into nothing.
*
Time. What a funny concept. For instance, I had recently learned that the time difference between my ‘vision’ of the Potters dying and the actual event had been about one minute. With each dream- really visions- that I had, the time between the prediction and the actual event was shorter.
What a funny, twisted concept.
In the end, it wouldn’t have even mattered if I had been able to inform Dumbledore. There just wasn’t enough time.
But that doesn’t change anything. I still saw fifteen people being murdered by Lord Voldemort.
My last vision was of Lily and James Potter being murdered. I couldn’t save them. I couldn’t do anything but watch them crumple to the ground as the green light surrounded them and their home. And I hate that.
Last night, I had woken up with a start, breathing heavily. Molly, being a light sleeper, woke up as she heard my gasps.
“Ellen?” she called from across the room, her voice worried. “Are you al-”
“Fine,” I had cut her off, still panting. “I’m fine.”
She had shrugged her shoulders, and gone back to sleep. But I stayed awake, replaying the dream, staring up at the darkness of the ceiling.
It was of nothing. Nothing. I had been dreaming of nothing, but it had scared me. I was so used to seeing a face, or something, as I had for the past three months. But, now- nothing.
You see, I don’t see dream people anymore. All of them disappeared with the screaming and the neon green light on Halloween.
But sometimes, on a quiet day when I’m all alone, I find myself thinking of the French girl named Camille. The one I had first tried to save. The one, little girl, out of all the wizards and witches that he killed, that said she wasn’t afraid to die.
I’m sorry, Camille. I’m sorry, Lily and James. I’m sorry to all my dream people; I couldn’t save you.
And I really, really, wish I had been able to.
Demons and Dream People by Trivia Camlee
Chapter Notes: Here is the last chapter of Ellen's story! I really enjoyed writing this fic, so I hope you enjoy it, too. Thank you for reading :)
All comments and critiques are welcomed.