Professor Merlin Emrys

Dream

The New Year found Harry back at Hogwarts, tangled in sheets, sweat, and horror as his nightmare dragged him deeper into REM.

His body felt smooth, powerful and flexible. He was gliding between shining metal bars, across dark, cold stone . . . he was flat against the floor, sliding along on his belly . . . it was dark, yet he could see objects around him shimmering in strange, vibrant colours . . . he was turning his head . . . at first glance the corridor was empty . . . but no . . . a man was sitting on the floor ahead, his chin drooping on to his chest, his outline gleaming in the dark . . .

Harry put out his tongue . . . he tasted the man's scent on the air . . . he was alive but drowsy . . . sitting in front of a door at the end of the corridor . .

Harry longed to bite the man . . . but he must master the impulse . . . he had more important work to do . . .

But the man was stirring . . . a silver Cloak fell from his legs as he jumped to his feet; and Harry saw his vibrant, blurred outline towering above him, saw a wand withdrawn from a belt . . . he had no choice . . . he reared high from the floor and struck once, twice, three times, plunging his fangs deeply into the man's flesh, feeling his ribs splinter beneath his jaws, feeling the warm gush of blood . . .

The man was yelling in pain . . . then he fell silent . . . he slumped backwards against the wall . . . blood was splattering on to the floor . . .

His forehead hurt terribly . . . it was aching fit to burst . . .

"Harry! HARRY!"

He opened his eyes. Every inch of his body was covered in icy sweat; his bed covers were twisted all around him like a strait-jacket; he felt as though a white-hot poker were being applied to his forehead.

Ron was standing over him looking extremely frightened. There were more figures at the foot of Harry's bed. He clutched his head in his hands; the pain was blinding him . . . he rolled right over and vomited over the edge of the mattress.

"Your dad,"he panted, his chest heaving. "Your dad's . . . been attacked . . ."

"What?" said Ron uncomprehendingly.

"Your dad! He's been bitten, it's serious, there was blood everywhere . . . "

"I'm going for help," said the same scared voice, and Harry heard footsteps running out of the dormitory.

"Harry, mate," said Ron uncertainly, "you . . . you were just dreaming--"

"No!" said Harry furiously; it was crucial that Ron understand.

"It wasn't a dream . . . not an ordinary dream . . . I was there, I saw it . . . I did it . . . "

He could hear Seamus and Dean muttering but did not care. The pain in his forehead was subsiding slightly, though he was still sweating and shivering feverishly. He retched again and Ron leapt backwards out of the way.

"Harry, you're not well," he said shakily. "Neville's gone for help,"

"I'm fine!" Harry choked, wiping his mouth on his pyjamas and shaking uncontrollably. "There's nothing wrong with me, it's your dad you've got to worry about--we need to find out where he is--he's bleeding like mad--I was--it was a huge snake,"

"Harry," someone called softly, rubbing his back, Harry sighed at the touch, something that wasn't painful.

"Come on, Let me take you to Dumbledore," the voice said just as gently, grabbing his arm to help him up. The pain receded some, enough for him to make out Professor Emrys, Ron, and Professor McGonagall.

"Weasley," McGonagall called," gather your family, and come to the Headmaster's office," Ron nodded and left the room as Emrys helped him into his dressing gown while he put on his glasses.