Break Me || Harry Potter

Chapter 37- I have a Weird Dream and Harry has to Fight a Dragon.

As the events of the Goblet of Fire died down, Harry's overall fear of the tournament grew. It had been over a month now, and Harry's first task was getting closer and closer with every day. Our homework piles were towering over us, and currently, all of us sat in the common room at approximately 11 o'clock at night, working our butts off. Well, at least me, Ron and Harry. Hermione was just reading and helping us occasionally.

"Harry, didn't Hagrid ask to see you later tonight?" Ron asked Harry, who was working on his Potions essay. He rubbed his face.

"Yeah, I'm going down later tonight, after I finish this. He asked me to meet him at 1. Stupid homework." He grabbed his quill and scribbled something on his paper, then threw the quill down again and pounded his face on the table.

"Potions trouble?" I asked. I had already finished the essay, and was currently making up stupid dreams about dying for Divination.

"How much would you hate me if I asked you to just look it over?" Harry said into the wood of the table. I snickered and rolled my eyes.

"A lot, but fine."

I grabbed his paper and read it over, making small marks here and there and completely re-writing his conclusion. He and Ron started to work together on our Divination dream diaries, and when I handed Harry's essay back he was contemplating ways to die on different days of the week.

"Thanks a load. You're the best. How should I die on Wednesday?" he asked me. I shrugged.

"You were eaten by a snufflepod. Very scary." I joked. Harry just shrugged and wrote it down. He quickly adjusted the changes I made on his paper, than threw it in his bag, returning to his diary. I quickly wrote down a few more of my own deaths, (death by hippogriff, drowned in the bathtub, someone stole my lungs, etc.) then packed up my stuff and plopped onto the couch by Hermione. She was buried in a book (surprise, surprise), but as I sat down she popped her head up and beamed at me.

"Did you finish?" She asked. I nodded, yawned, then leaned my head back and closed my eyes.

"What book?" I asked.

"Its called Heir of Fire. It's the third book to the one you saw me reading at the Leaky cauldron." She said. I whistled softled. Damn. She reads fast.

"You already got through that one and the second?" She nodded. I smiled and shook my head.

"Hermione you are crazy."

"Good crazy?"

"Of course."

We smiled at each other and then lapsed into silence once more. After a while I dozed off, but then Ron was shaking me away telling me to wish good luck to Harry, who was standing by the portrait hole.

"Good luck. Tell Hagrid that I will help after class on Thursday, he needs the extra hands." I mumbled, still half asleep. Harry chuckled and nodded, then waved and slipped out of the common room. I started to head back to the couch, but Ron caught my shoulder and spun me around, facing me towards the stairs to my dorm.

"You are seriously tired, go sleep upstairs before you pass out down here." He laughed. I gave him a very sleepy and very vulgar gesture, then padded up the stairs and collapsed on my bed. I vaguely heard Hermione come in and get ready for bed, but my mind was already wandering into another horrific dream.

When I didn't start the dream stuck between the floorboards of the old house, watching the two men and the grand chair, I knew something was off. I floated above a graveyard, my body invisible but my eyes could still see every detail of each tombstone. The two men from the last dream were talking behind a grand statue of a cloaked creature with a scythe.

"Are you sure you can ensure the girl's arrival Grenville? You fail, and we all die. The Dark lord is not forgiving." The older man spat in the younger boy's face. The younger boy just smiled evilly.

"Trust me, Jr. , the girl will not stand a chance. I have been watching her for years. She cannot be more powerful than me."

"Sounds like your trying to convince yourself that. Loosing your confidence are we?" The older man taunted. I willed myself to move closer to see the faces of the men, but I seemed stuck in place.

The younger man sneered. "You just want an excuse for me to be killed. I will not fail my mission. Mark my words." With that, the younger man spun on his heel and walked away from the older man and the statue, his dark robes billowing behind him. The older man scowled at the younger man's retreating figure, but then spun and sashayed out of the graveyard in the other direction. I wanted to follow the younger man, but my mind had other ideas.

Needles of pain burst between my eyes, and images flashed like an old movie reel. Wicked fast and almost unreadable, different scenes zoomed in and out of my vision, making absolutely no sense. I tried to hold my head in my hands as I tried to block out the flashing and pain, but my arms wouldn't move. I tried to cry for help but my screams were stuck in my throat. I thrashed in my pain, but my body went rigid. The images were flashing faster, but as I watched, I noticed that one kept reappearing. It was the small piece of charred paper that held Harry's name. I stared at it as it flashed, but its image was in my head. I kept watching for it as the images passed, but after it came by another few times I was certain of my hunch.

It was the paper Harry must've put in the Goblet of Fire.

But the handwriting wasn't his.

It was the day of Harry's task, and it seemed like the entire school, plus two more, had managed to fit themselves into a stadium that had been set up near the quidditch pitch. We weren't actually using the pitch because we didn't want to damage it, so the Tournament committee had set this up. It was supposed to be fireproof, which was good. After Harry had gone to Hagrids that night a few days ago, the next day at breakfast he was pale and quiet. When we finally asked what he saw, he looked us all in the eye and said,

"Dragons."

After that little bomb was dropped, we all spent the next few days training harry with different spells to defend himself. By the morning of the task, he was armed with more spells than any fourth year would know, and scared as shit.

"Remember, just get your broom and you will be fine." I said for the hundredth time. I rubbed my hands together and stood by Harry, as Ron and Hermione went ahead to find us a spot. Harry was pale and quiet.

"Yes, I know. You've said that a hundred times." He muttered. I rolled my eyes.

"Just don't die, and then I'll stop worrying." I said. My breath fogged in front of me as I spoke, but I walked through it as I followed Harry into the champion's tent. The other champions were there, but Harry's mood seemed to show in all four of them. I muttered a quiet goodbye as I saw the Minister, Crouch, Dumbledore and McGonagall near the tent, then slipped out and went to find Ron and Hermione. I had just got to our seats when the cannon blew.

Let the first task begin.