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There was a dark and stifling silence in the small, disheveled bedroom at the top of the stairs. The room wasn’t much to look at, but it was arguably a great improvement over the cupboard under the stairs.

The shadows of the room held a troubled boy with dark, unruly hair and an unmistakable lightning bolt scar. In torment, he writhed in his bed as he slept.

It was frustration and fear rolled into one. He felt as though he were being held back from something, or perhaps from someone.

When he awoke with a jolt, he found himself hopelessly tangled in the sheets of his bed, soaked in a cold sweat. His heart was pounding fiercely against his chest and he was completely breathless, again.

“Bloody dream!” he growled in aggravation as he struggled to disentangle himself from the jumble of bedding.

Falling back against his pillow with a sigh, he attempted to settle back into the calming silence of reality.

For the last several nights, Harry Potter had been having horrible dreams. Under normal circumstances, this would be nothing new for the Boy-Who-Lived. In fact, he’d grown rather accustomed to fitful nights over the years, but this was different.

Up until then, his dreams were typically filled with screams of his mother begging for his life or visions of Cedric and Sirius being snuffed out before his eyes.

These visions were much more than dreams. They were flashes of memories from events of his life, horrible and frightful, but nonetheless, memories.

In an attempt to improve his nightly lot, Harry had resigned himself to the fact that he would need to master Occlumency. It was his only hope for ever being able to sleep properly again.

As a means to an end, Harry had suffered through countless nights with Professor Snape during his sixth year at Hogwarts. He spent free evenings in the dungeons, trying to block the potions master’s repeated neurological invasions of his thoughts and memories.

Spending extra time with his least favorite professor was miserable, but that wasn’t the worst of it. His time with Snape actually pulled a close second to the endless snide remarks from Slytherins who were told he was taking remedial potions… again.

Those two factors were motivation enough to master it, even without his best friend Hermione nagging him constantly to “concentrate and take it seriously.”

By the second month of the first term, things had markedly improved for Harry. He seemed to be taking control of his mind and felt he might actually begin to sleep peacefully at night.

However, that was then and this was now.

Another long summer holiday at Privet Drive was staring him in the face, and Harry was already beginning to feel alone and lonely.

He still had over another month before he could return to his real home, Hogwarts. He knew the Dursleys wouldn’t care that he was having nightmares. He would even be willing to wager that they’d take a perverse pleasure in the fact that he was having trouble sleeping.

As he climbed into bed for another round of nightmares, he lay staring up at the ceiling. Once again, the peace of his nights was under attack.

Why, he wondered going over his Occlumency training. What am I doing wrong?

No matter what he did, the nightmares continued. These dreams were different though. They weren’t filled by mere memories anymore, at least not his own. Instead they were plagued by flashes of someone else’s misery.

What truly troubled him about his dreams was that he wasn’t sure if it was just a nightmare or if it was really happening. Did Voldemort have another innocent victim that he was repeatedly torturing for sport, simply to seep into Harry’s thoughts and make him watch?

During his nightly visions, Harry kept trying to reach out to whoever was being tormented. When that didn’t work, in frustration, he tried to close himself off. The attempt proved futile. Despite his efforts to block the dreams through Occlumency, they continued night after night.

Harry suspected why it wasn’t working. In truth, the part of him that wanted to prevent the dreams was continually being beat out by the larger part of him that needed to find her and help her. He finally realized that deep down; he was probably willing the dreams to continue.

With each passing night, he was reminded of the many things he didn’t know about the mysterious dreams. There were a few things that he had been able to determine.

For starters, he knew that this felt different than his dreams about Sirius or the attack on Mr. Weasley. Instead of a clear and vivid image, it was more like sounds, a fragrance, flashes of images, and a ‘sense’ of a person that he experienced.

Each night it was the same. He felt he was trying to get to a person who needed him, but somehow could never find them. His dreams had become filled with the screams of a faceless, nameless person.

The only thing he could discern was that the person was a young woman. Night after night, the helpless woman’s tormented screams seemed to tear through Harry’s chest like the steely blade of a dagger. Most troubling was the fact that he felt he knew her and wanted desperately to help, if only he could find her.

Tonight he had come closer than ever before to reaching her, so close it was maddening. He’d reached the chamber where she was held, opened the door, and felt a surge of excitement mixed with dread wash over him.

His heart pounded with anticipation, thinking of what it would be like to finally see her, help her. But even as he moved forward, the sharp edge of fear crept in on him. He couldn’t help but wonder what he’d see when he did.

As the door swung back to reveal the mysterious young woman at last, he awoke just before he could look into her face.

“Damn it,” he groaned. “I’ve got to do something, but what?”

Frustration plagued him as he mulled over his options. Should he actually do anything at all or should he just keep this new nightmare private?

Following his dreams as fact had not always proved prudent. That was a lesson Harry had learned all too painfully at the loss of his godfather’s life.

Throughout the siege of dreams, Harry considered sending an owl to his best friends for advice. After weighing the pros and cons, he decided against it. Ron would definitely go into panic mode, wondering if someone was actually being tortured.

He didn’t anticipate that Hermione would be much more helpful than Ron. Harry was certain that she would tell him to contact the Order straight away. Neither option seemed favorable to him at the moment. Why should Ron and Hermione worry too? He had no firm information to pass along to the Order, so it seemed useless to tell them now.

The only outcome he could envision was another barrage of stares and lectures.

Snape’s reaction in particular played out vividly in his mind. He could just picture the potion master’s sneer as he told them of his nightly quest.

“Well, I’m having dreams again,” he said aloud, voicing his thoughts. “Someone is in trouble, but I don’t know who… or where…or if it’s real…What do you think?”

How lame does that sound? Harry wondered to himself.

Snape would surely insist Harry wasn’t using his Occlumency properly.

Dumbledore would probably gaze at him over those half moon spectacles contemplatively and respond evenly, “Really? Indeed. Tell us if you learn more, but for now don’t leave your aunt’s home.”

That was not a speech Harry wanted to hear again. No, he definitely needed to know more before he told anyone.

It was his private fight, his secret, at least for now.

________________________________________
Chapter 2 Another Day at Privet Drive

As the morning light crept through his window, Harry lay feeling somewhat groggy and tired. Groaning, he pulled his pillow over his head to block out the arrival of the new day. He hadn’t slept much after waking in the wee hours of the morning from yet another episode with her.

The house had been still, the neighborhood quiet. It was unclear to him why he awoke when he did. What was clear, were the many questions that plagued him about the chamber and its prisoner; questions that still burned incessantly in his mind. In the hopes of finding some answers, Harry had tried to go right back to sleep. His frustration from being yanked unceremoniously from his dream and the identity of the girl in his mind, however, seemed to be preventing sleep from taking him. Instead, he lay there as the few remaining hours of darkness ticked by, mentally wandering through a plan of attack for the next night.

There’s got to be a way to get to her before I wake up, he thought. At this point he wasn’t sure what bothered him more, the fact that he wanted to help her and hadn’t been able to, or the fact that he still didn’t know who she was.

He had memorized the pathway to her chamber as he retraced it in his nightly missions. He could visualize it very clearly in his waking hours. Strangely enough, it was clearer then, than while he slept. Somehow his mind filled in the details, although in his dreams he couldn’t actually see them. The space felt somehow familiar to him. It was like he had been there before, but the key ingredients to solving the mystery were frustratingly out of reach.

He was quickly drawn out of his thoughts as he heard footsteps moving down the hall and towards the stairs. He knew that in no time he would be ‘summoned’ to breakfast. He momentarily considered telling Uncle Vernon to ‘sod off’ when he bellowed for Harry to come down.

After a moment of happy consideration, he decided against it. After all, he could finally do a few things he wanted: owl his friends, look at his spell books, allow Hedwig out, and eat somewhat properly. He didn’t want to risk losing the few privileges he had managed to earn with the Order’s help. Telling Uncle Vernon he hadn’t slept well and he was too tired today simply wouldn’t do.

Things were not as bad as they had been in the past. Since his fifth year, the Dursleys had been forced by Dumbledore, Lupin, and mostly Moody to take care of Harry’s basic needs a little better. Starving him was definitely out of the question with Mad-Eye only an owl away. That didn’t quell their zest for enslaving him to the best of their ability before feeding him, however. If Harry wanted any time of his own, he had to play their game. Yes, he would have to do his daily chores before he could escape to the seclusion of his room and resume planning his nightly excursions into the world of his dreams.

Then, as if on cue, it came. “BOY! Get down here! You’ll not laze about all day when there is work to be done! Get your sorry arse down here and earn your bloody keep!”

Harry thought Uncle Vernon seemed to be in a particularly nasty state for so early in the morning, but no matter. He didn’t exactly exchange pleasantries with any of them. They went about their business and he went about his, (after receiving the list for the day, of course).

Harry rose from his bed, crossed his small room and looked into the mirror as he ran his fingers through his hopelessly unkempt hair. He grinned as he thought of how his unruly hair irritated his aunt and uncle to no end. At least it has some perks he thought, as he roughed it up even more if that was possible. He threw on some clothes and made his way to the stairway, as another ‘wake up call’ erupted from the kitchen.

“POTTER! I said get down here! NOW!”

He couldn’t help himself as he hollered back, “I’M COMING! Get a grip!”

He knew he could push things a bit more now than when he was younger. The fact that he was a wizard, guarded by more powerful wizards, was enough to keep his relatives somewhat in check. He really owed his delicious hold on them to the Order’s decree of “be kinder to Harry, or we’ll be back!”

The last time they ‘stopped by’ Harry thought Aunt Petunia would faint as she watched Moody’s magical eye bore through her to her piggy son hiding behind her skirt. It did his heart good really, their unannounced visits. It gave him the strength to continue and something to look forward to as well. It was always a surprise and very enjoyable to watch. Their ‘inspections’ always bought Harry at least a day or two of total freedom.

It had been awhile since their last visit. He knew another one would be coming any day, which gave him a little more cheek than usual. As he descended the stairs, he thought mischievously about their next ‘reminder’ to treat him properly. Until then…just go along with it. He told himself.

Entering the kitchen, he looked from his uncle’s puffy face to the dining table and discovered the source of Uncle Vernon’s irritation. For once, it had nothing to do with Harry. The post had arrived and apparently, sweet “Diddydum’s” exam scores from Smeltings had been amongst the pile of letters along with an additional notice from the school Head.

It must have been really bad. Aunt Petunia was extremely pale and looked on the verge of tears. Uncle Vernon was storming back and forth across the room blustering and grumbling to himself about the unwelcome, and in Vernon’s opinion, completely unwarranted news from the school.

As Harry prepared breakfast, his ears perked in the hopes of hearing more. Perhaps today wouldn’t be so horrible after all he thought. Dudley’s academic shortcomings were certainly amusing enough. They were sure to serve as a pleasant distraction from the daily din of life with the Dursleys.

From the bits and pieces that he could ascertain, Harry surmised that Dudley had been caught attempting to toss his report and the letter into the bin. It was obvious that ‘Dudders’ had been well aware that he had not achieved what they had hoped. Not only were his scores bordering on atrocious, but the letter from Headmaster Morley stated that if he didn’t show marked improvement in the fall term, he would be dismissed from the school boxing team “until such time that his grades reflected the level of excellence befitting a quality school such as Smeltings.”

The more his uncle paced, the angrier he became until he was in a veritable rampage. Uncle Vernon of course, blamed the school. Headmaster Morley had made several changes in the short time that he had been running the school that Uncle Vernon found nothing short of criminal. From what Harry could tell, those policy adjustments were obviously designed to raise the academic standards of the school while down playing the importance of sport. Such a theory seemed utterly preposterous to Vernon.

“It all comes down to bringing in that new headmaster!” Vernon raged. “That was the worst mistake that school’s ever made in its 80 year history! It’s a crime to watch a proper school like Smeltings spiral down into the gutter with that riff raff at the helm.”

Harry turned away and rolled his eyes. Harry could remember Uncle Vernon quite clearly stating just a year ago that a solid, no nonsense leader like Headmaster Morley was “exactly what that school needed to keep those lazy Red teachers in line.” Now that that same no nonsense style of leadership had come back to bite Dudley, Vernon was taking quite a different tack.

“What’s Morley playing at anyway? When I was at Smeltings, we had proper professors, who could actually spot talent and develop it when it was thrust upon them! We certainly didn’t entertain ruddy Headmasters who couldn’t see the value of a well-rounded student!” Vernon grumbled in disgust.

Dudley’s well-rounded alright, I’ll give you that. Harry thought as he fought off his smirk. For some reason, watching his beastly cousin eat his way into oblivion at the moment was almost amusing. Harry finished serving the breakfast as Vernon went on with his rant.

“I’ll tell you what this is…Morley’s got a son of his own on the boxing team. I’d wager he wants Dud out of the way so there’s a clear path for his boy to be champion. The boy probably can’t handle a little healthy competition…more like he knows the whelp doesn’t stand a chance of being top man with Dudley around, so he wants him off the team.” Vernon said with a nod to Dudley and a slap on his rather beefy arm. “That has to be it!”

Or…Dudley’s really just that daft and an absolutely brainless git. Harry mused to himself before tuning back in to Vernon. “…it’s an outrage!” his uncle continued. “Well, I have news for Headmaster Morley, I’ll simply not have it! Don’t give it another thought Dud, Coach Ellington will have something to say about this supposed dismissal from the team. Empty threats I tell you. Morley wouldn’t dare. With your boxing record, Ellington’s sure to fight to keep you.”

How dare they, Harry thought sarcastically as he returned to the kitchen for the orange juice. Smeltings actually views academic standards as a priority. Bet it really cranks Uncle Vernon that boxing isn’t enough, Harry mused.

Still, Harry couldn’t help but shake his head in disbelief. This was a lot of denial, even for his relatives. Were they really that thick? Did they really think that being the best bully in the school would qualify “Big D” for scholar of the year? He doubted very much if Dudley even cared about his grades, but Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were mortified.

What would they tell the neighbors who proudly shared their child’s achievements? Harry listened from the kitchen as talk of pulling Dudley out of that school altogether began to circulate about the room.

Harry was beginning to suspect that sending Dudley abroad to spend a year ‘finding himself’ rather than returning to Smeltings for his second year of A levels was sounding better and better. Unless Dudley’s coach really did have that much pull, Harry could see that his relatives were beginning to run out of other alternatives. Having his one and only son chucked off the boxing team certainly wasn’t going to be acceptable to Uncle Vernon. That’s not the sort of thing that you could brag about in social circles. If Dudley left now, that could never happen and he’d end his illustrious boxing career as school champion instead of school pinhead who had been dismissed from the team based purely on his stupidity. Harry suspected that the school would be relieved as well. Dudley was mucking up the school’s academic record anyway.

As Harry walked back into the dining room and poured the juice, he deemed the whole scene truly entertaining. The part that Harry found to be most humorous was Dudley. He sat with a look of complete indifference at the table as he devoured yet another portion of bacon and eggs. Dudley’s only contributions to the conversation had been a periodic nod or snort in response to his father’s ranting. He didn’t confirm or deny anything that Vernon said and allowed his father to spout off until he burned himself out and tucked into his meal.

It had been extremely difficult, but Harry had remained silent. The temptation to make some sort of comment had been gripping him since he had walked into the room, but somehow Harry had held fast until he returned to the kitchen. With the door safely closed behind him, Harry found himself fighting the urge to burst into a fit of laughter.

Harry struggled to get a hold of himself as his uncle stormed into the kitchen. “What on earth are you grinning at boy?” he yelled.

“Er…nothing Uncle Vernon.” He responded as he tried to wipe the smile, quite unsuccessfully, from his face.

Vernon stared daggers through Harry, turning one of his famous shades of purple, as if it were his fault Dudley was an academic failure. Harry knew he’d be busy today. His ‘list’ grew in direct correlation with the foulness of Uncle Vernon’s mood. The grumpier he was, the more Harry usually had to do that day. Today was no different. He had actually written a list instead of firing off the verbal one he usually delivered.

With a satisfied smirk of his own, Vernon shoved it into Harry’s hand and yelled “Grin at that boy!” and stomped off.

A bit stunned by a list on paper, Harry looked down at it in shock. It was filled and there was more on the back. Items such as clean the attic, paint the trim of the house and clip the hedges topped the list. It would be three days’ hard slog before he finished everything on there. The chores were so excessive that Harry could feel his blood begin to boil with rage. As he turned the paper over he stopped dead in his tracks. There at the bottom of the list in capital letters was the one thing worse than anything else they could possibly throw at him. “YOU WILL WELCOME YOUR AUNT MARGE GRACIOUSLY INTO OUR HOME!”

“THE HELL I WILL!” he shouted to the empty kitchen.

She was to arrive at 5:00 o’clock today! Harry’s rage intensified as he remembered his last encounter with Marge. He actually blew her up. He couldn’t believe at first that she even had the nerve to put in another appearance while he was there -- but then he remembered. Her memory had been modified.

Harry had had it. That was the last straw. He crumpled the list in his fist and turned to march into the lounge. He was about to the play the “Moody” card when a loud blast followed by Aunt Petunia’s terrified shriek saved him the trouble. Harry stopped dead in his tracks again, this time to savor the moment, as a mischievous smirk spread across his face. He took a deep breath then walked brightly into the lounge to greet his visitors.

The scene was comical, at least to Harry. The fireplace had been blown to bits, again. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia stood huddled together across the room picking plaster out of their hair while Dudley’s massive bulk tried to disappear behind them. Due to his size, he was failing miserably in his attempt which amused Harry even further. He scanned the room for his guests and beamed happily.

“Fred! George! It’s great to see you!” he exclaimed.

“Hi ya Harry!” They said together waggling their eyebrows and matching his smirk. “Thought we’d pop by and…er… see how you’ve been getting on lately.”

“Interesting path of entry you two blokes chose. Didn’t feel much like apparating today I suspect?” Harry added with a raised eyebrow and a grin. “Perhaps it would be better if they just left the fireplace open then. What do you think?”

George and Fred smirked back, “Perhaps it would. Causes quite an unavoidable mess this way, we’re afraid. Quite unfortunate indeed, but traveling by floo well, requires a floo doesn’t it?” Harry knew just as well as they did that it was in fact, easily avoidable if they had chosen to apparate instead.

“So… why didn’t Ron come?” Harry asked still enjoying their banter as the Dursleys cringed.

They grinned at Harry then allowed their eyes to wonder over to Dudley’s huge arse as it stuck out from behind his mother’s bony body before they continued.

“Ron sends his regards Harry, but mum needed him to stay and help with some things back at headquarters…”

“The Order is a bit busy today, but we’re full-fledged members now, ya know. When they discussed needing someone to come by today at last night’s meeting… we were only too happy to oblige.”

Noting that they had both a captive and delighted audience the twins decided to beef it up a bit. “Course, Moody’ll be along any minute.” George paused allowing his words to sink in properly. Relishing the expressions on the Dursley’s faces, he continued. “He so loves these ‘social calls.’ Isn’t that right Fred?” George smirked.

“Oh, too right you are George.” Fred answered. “I believe he said he simply wouldn’t miss it.”

Harry watched almost giddy, as the Weasley twins hawked Dudley from across the room. The twins were a force to be reckoned with, perhaps on a different plane than Moody, but still a veritable thunderbolt waiting to strike. He was glad that he had always managed to remain on good terms with them.

No doubt his cousin remembered the twins from their last visit when they had accidentally dropped a Ton-Tongue Toffee which Dudley had eaten. Dudley’s tongue wagged somewhere about his navel by the time his parents let Mr. Weasley sort him out.

As those wonderful images floated about in Harry’s mind, he heard a loud crack reverberate through the room. Mad-Eye Moody apparated only inches in front of Vernon and Petunia making them fall back over Dudley who squealed like a little girl.

“Hello professor! I wondered when you’d be making another social call. It’s good of you to come. If you stay long enough you may even get to meet my Aunt Marge.” Harry added gleefully, picturing what would happen if they were still there when she arrived. I’ve got her “gracious welcome” right here, Harry thought.

It felt even sweeter when he heard a sharp gasp and a shudder come from the pile of Dursleys heaped on the lounge floor. He knew what they were thinking. How on earth they would explain their scarred, claw-footed, mad-eyed visitor to a very judgmental Marge. He also knew Moody would never abide her rudeness. Harry found himself wishing and hoping they could stay. He pictured Moody transfiguring her to look like one of her bulldogs and bouncing her off the ceiling. A smile leapt to Harry’s face at the mental images. As Harry fast forwarded through the evening in his mind, he found the best part was that once Moody had finished with her, she would have the Weasley twins to contend with. Harry just had to know what kind of creative, but evil mischief Fred and George would have in store for her and her dog.

It appeared Fred and George had been thinking the very same thing as Harry glanced at them happily with a grin of invitation to do their worst. The twins looked as though Christmas had come early. But it was too good to be true. Unfortunately, play day was to be cut short.

“Haven’t they told you Potter?” Moody asked halting the wheels as they turned in the boys’ heads.

Looking a bit confused Harry asked, “Sorry? Told me what, sir?”

“Sorry Harry, just having a bit of fun first.” Fred interjected.

Moody looked at the twins with a bit of a grumble, and then considered their ability to toy with the Dursleys. He had to give credit where credit was due. They had a knack for their own brand of intimidation.

He looked back at Harry and said. “Its jail-break day for you Potter! Get your trunk!”

Harry couldn’t believe it! His heart soared as he absorbed the news.

“What? Are you serious?” he cried. “I didn’t expect to get to leave for at least another week, around my birthday!” Harry exclaimed. “This is absolutely, bloody excellent!”

Harry then walked directly to the trembling heap that was his uncle and tossed the crumpled list at him. “Here, doesn’t look like I’ll have time for any of this today,” he said cheerfully. “I guess you’ll have to do your own maintenance for a change. See you next year!” With that Harry turned on his heel and headed up to his room to pack, accompanied by the twins. They left Moody in the lounge with the Dursleys to have a little fun.

This was going to be a much better day than Harry had ever felt possible! His summer at the Dursleys’ was cut short. No more lists, no more Dursleys, and most importantly, no Marge! Harry was terribly curious about why he was getting an early out this year, but too happy to ask. No doubt it wasn’t anything good, but that didn’t matter right now. There’d be plenty of time for worry later. Right now he wanted to enjoy every moment of his farewell party.

________________________________________
Chapter 3
Almost Perfect

When they arrived at Order headquarters, the place was completely deserted. Under the circumstances, the whole thing seemed rather strange to Harry.

The twins had just spent the last half hour talking about how ‘busy’ the Order was. They’d even given the impression that Ron wasn’t able to come and pick him up because he was helping his mum at Headquarters.

Now that they’d actually arrived at Grimmauld Place, no one even seemed to be there.

“What’s going on?” Harry asked, turning to Moody. “I expected a bit more activity around here. What happened to make you come and get me now?”

Moody’s magical eye spun round to peer out the side of his head. Looking briefly at the twins, he then rotated it back to rest upon Harry.

“Dumbledore got word that blimp of a woman was showing up today,” he grumbled after a brief pause.

“Got word?” Harry repeated. “From who?“

“Doesn’t matter,” Moody blustered, holding up his hand. “It was smarter to yank you out of there than to let you get yourself into trouble again. We can’t have you hexing her slobbering mutt or turning the woman into a bellowing, muggle balloon.”

“I’ve never hexed her dog,” Harry argued half-heartedly.

I wanted to, he added in his mind, but I didn’t.

“Humph…Well, we were supposed to come and get you next week,” Moody countered, surveying Harry as he scowled. “Would you rather that we’d left you there and put you to the test?”

”No,” Harry responded through gritted teeth, irritated by the implication that he couldn’t control his temper.

“What’s that, you say?” Moody asked, his eyes narrowing.

“No,” Harry repeated louder.

“Then show a little gratitude, Potter,” Moody warned him, his tone gruff and grumpy. “If you don’t, I might decide to take you back to Surrey and just let you wait it out.”

It was an idle threat and Harry knew it. Moody hated the idea of him being with the Dursleys nearly as much as he did.

“Okay,” Harry nodded, deciding to let it go as his eyes dropped to the floor and he bit his lip.

He wanted to disagree with him about what would’ve happened if he’d stayed there with Marge, but deep down he knew Moody was probably right under the circumstances.

“Sorry,” Harry mumbled,

“Humph,” was Moody’s only reply.

“So…where is everyone?” Harry asked changing the subject, his temper beginning to dissipate as he remembered that anything that got him away from Privet Drive couldn’t be all bad. “I thought Ron would be here.”

“Well, he and Mum were here getting things ready for you. You know…cleaning, preparing food, so you’d have what you need,” George explained. “When Dumbledore moved your ‘extraction from Dursley Doom’ up a week unexpectedly, Mum worked herself into a regular froth.”

“I’ll say,” Fred agreed. “She was so worried she wouldn’t have enough time to prepare things properly, that she put Ron and us to work straight away.”

“Yeah,” George continued. “She kept asking if everything felt homey enough and she was bustling around here like she was expecting a visit from the Queen or something.”

“Yeah, she got so worked up that we finally had to slip her some special tea to calm her down,” Fred explained with a shrug. “We developed our own unique blend, you know,” he added with a wink. “She was more than alright after that.”

“Down right blissful, I’d say,” George added with a nod, grinning proudly. “Anyway, she just wanted you to feel at home here, Harry.”

”She did a nice job,” Harry offered sincerely, unsure of what else to say. He wasn’t used to people being that concerned with his comfort. “So…after they fixed things up, I guess they had to leave? I mean, I’ll be staying here…alone?” his voice trailed off.

Mrs. Weasley and the others had obviously worked hard at eliminating the remaining ‘darkness’ from the home. Instead of a den of dark wizards, the house had taken on the feel of a normal Muggle home.

Many of the menacing, Black family heirlooms had finally been replaced by brighter furnishings and cheerier touches.

The only dark remnant appeared to be the wailing portrait of Mrs. Black. Unable to counter the charm that held her in place, she still hung in her usual spot draped by a moldy velvet curtain.

Harry scanned the lounge, taking in the renovations. He had to admit, on the surface, Grimmauld Place looked completely transformed. The state of the house though, wasn’t really the issue.

Harry didn’t fancy being left alone in the home of his dead godfather. Regardless of the physical changes of the room, he could almost feel an echo of Sirius in the space. He wasn’t frightened; it just made him feel rather depressed.

”Um…Harry…We’re not leaving you here by yourself,” Fred assured him as they watched him slowly take in the room.

“No, of course not,” George shook his head. ”We’ll be taking it in turns to…”

“To what?” Harry shot, his anger resurfacing quickly, “Mind me? I don’t need a babysitter!”

“Keep your bloody voice down, boy!” Moody warned. “You’ll wake up…”

But it was too late.

The tattered, moth-eaten curtain flew apart to reveal the yellowing portrait of a rather irate Mrs. Black. Instantly she began to shriek in her frame as though she were being tortured by their mere presence.

Ignoring her screams, Harry raised his voice louder and turned on Moody in a rage.

“This is ridiculous! I want to go to the Burrow!” he insisted.

“It’s not safe boy!” Moody growled. “You know that!”

“Then why can’t Ron come and stay here with me?!” Harry shot back, yelling louder.

Moody said something in response, but with Mrs. Black wailing and carrying on as though she’d been invaded, Harry couldn’t hear a word.

His tolerance finally snapped. Turning on his heels, his wand was in his hand before anyone else could react. Thrusting it toward the portrait he screamed.

“Incendio!”

Seeing what was coming, Mrs. Black squealed in fear and dove out the edge of her frame just before the spell impacted the canvas.

Fred and George stood by, mouths gaping as they watched the decrepit portrait go up in flames.

“Huh,” Moody replied, scratching his chin after a few seconds of silence. “Everyone was so busy trying to tear her off the bleeding wall that no one thought to just burn the old bat out of her frame.”

After a few more seconds, Moody lifted his wand, extinguishing the fire. The canvas hung smoking and charred. Nothing but a scorch mark remained. When Moody turned back around, Harry’s body was still shaking from the intensity of the spell.

“I…I didn’t mean to…” Harry mumbled, glancing at the remnants of the portrait before looking back at Moody.

“Looked like you meant it to me, Potter,” Moody countered grimly, now studying him with both eyes.

Harry looked back at the black splotch on the wall briefly before turning to meet Fred and George’s gazes.

“I…I think we should go,” Harry insisted, his voice rather unsteady. “If we go to the Burrow...”

“Take it easy,” Fred interrupted him, glancing quickly at the now empty frame before looking back at Harry. “No one’s going to care about that. The hag had it coming. We’ve been trying to rip that picture down for weeks, but like Moody said, nothing worked.”

“Besides, Ron’s not at the Burrow,” George chimed in, trying to change his mind. “He went to pick up Hermione and he’ll be coming here tomorrow. They’ll both be joining you tomorrow,” he added quickly.

“Yeah,” Fred nodded quickly. “They’re coming tomorrow and Ginny will be along any minute now. We’re going to keep you company tonight.”

Suddenly Harry felt ridiculous. He’d lost his temper, raged at Moody and the twins and managed to set the wall on fire without stopping to think.

“Ginny’s coming…and you’re staying,” Harry clarified quietly, his eyes dropping to the floor.

“Yeah,” the twins answered in unison.

“Oh,” Harry responded, somewhat lamely, embarrassed by how he’d behaved.

A rather uncomfortable silence filled the room.

Moody shrugged his shoulders and then turned to disappear into the kitchen. Harry and the twins stood looking at each other for a minute longer before taking seats in the lounge.

Several minutes passed as the twins exchanged nervous looks with each other between stealing glimpses at Harry with uncertainty. They seemed to be unsure of how to proceed from there.

To escape the awkwardness, Harry finally decided to excuse himself and go upstairs.

“Well…I think I’ll…er...just take my trunk to my room,” he muttered getting quickly to his feet without making eye contact with the Weasleys. “And…I should probably check to see…um…to see how Hedwig’s settling in.”

“Um…yeah, okay,” Fred nodded. “Do you need any help?”

“NO,” Harry answered much louder than he’d intended, hoping to get away. “Um…No, thanks…” he added, trying to force his tone back to normal.

”Yeah, alright then,” George nodded, “top of the stairs, second door on the left.”

“Thanks,” Harry called over his shoulder as he quickly left the room.

Climbing the stairs, Harry couldn’t help thinking about what he’d just done. In a matter of an hour, he’d gone from thrilled about leaving the Dursleys to furious at the thought of being left alone at Grimmauld Place.

What’s wrong with me, he wondered, recalling the stunned expressions on the twins faces as he shook his head.

It didn’t take long for him to find an answer to that question. He hadn’t slept properly in weeks. He was exhausted and frustrated by his nightly missions to find her.

Maybe that’s all behind me now, he thought hopefully. Maybe a change of scenery is just what I needed to make those dreams go away.

Reaching the landing, Harry headed down the hallway. Exhaling slowly he tried to let it all go. Facing his demons in his godfather’s home wouldn’t be easy, but if it brought the nightmares to an end, then maybe it would be worth it.

Feeling a little better, Harry turned the knob and opened his door. When he walked into his room, it was easy to see it had been given a mother’s touch. It was spotless and everything looked fresh and bright. The curtains were drawn back and sunshine gleamed in through the window.

Harry’s spirits began to rise as he opened the wardrobe and began to unpack. Not only was he done with his Dursley sentence for another year, but he’d be spending the last five weeks of the summer with his best friends. If he could just figure out his dreams, his life would be just about perfect.

Well, maybe not perfect, he reconsidered.

There was still the matter of Voldemort, but all things considered, his life was beginning to look pretty good.

Deciding to let Hedwig share in his freedom, Harry walked to her cage and released the clasp. Normally she’d be asleep at that time of day, but apparently the commotion of the move had her a bit off her routine.

“Go on girl,” Harry encouraged, stroking her snow white feathers with a smile. “Have a bit of a stretch.”

She didn’t seem too keen on moving at first, but when Harry crossed the room and opened the window, Hedwig hopped out of her cage to light momentarily on his arm. Affectionately she nipped his ear in appreciation before gliding out the window and into the open air.

Hooting happily she flew off into the late morning sky. Harry followed her with his eyes until she soared over the rooftops and disappeared.

Wistfully, he imagined how it would feel to grab his Firebolt and join her. It had been weeks since he’d flown. No matter how many times he’d done it, it always felt exhilarating when he pushed off from the ground.

After a few minutes of indulging the thought, he reluctantly tabled it. Harry seriously doubted that Moody, or anyone else, would appreciate him taking an excursion into Muggle air space.

No, definitely not, he shook his head. Flying will have to wait.

With a sigh he turned from the window and finished unpacking. After placing Hedwig’s empty cage on top of the wardrobe, he stretched out on the bed to relax.

In the silence of the room, his mind drifted to the unmistakable presence of his godfather. It was as though he could feel Sirius all around him.

Harry swallowed hard and wondered if he was really ready to spend the summer closed off at Grimmauld Place. Part of the reason Sirius was gone in the first place was because he’d been going stir crazy cooped up at Headquarters.

Knowing his options were few, Harry tried to push the thoughts from his mind. Concentrating on the fact that Fred and George were staying the night, Ginny was on her way, and Ron and Hermione would be arriving tomorrow, he slowly began to relax. Soon he’d be surrounded by the people he loved most.

Besides, Sirius wouldn’t want him to dwell on the tragedies of the past. He’d want him to live for the future and find peace and solace in his memory, not sadness.

As Harry’s mind cleared, his eyes began to slide out of focus. He was feeling more tired than he realized. Obviously lack of sleep and the excitement of the morning had taken its toll. Before Harry knew it, he had drifted off to sleep.

Suddenly he was walking down a torch lit, stone corridor. The flames dancing off the walls were little comfort along the dark and dank pathway of his dreams, but Harry didn’t care.

He moved deliberately through the catacombs turning several times without even thinking. The route was so ingrained in his mind at that point; he didn’t need to think about it.

As the doorway to the chamber came into view, he felt a familiar jolt of excitement mixed with nervousness shoot through him. Moving forward, Harry reached to open the door, hoping that this time the elusive figure would somehow be revealed to him.

When the heavy barrier swung open on its metal hinges, initially things looked the same as they had every other night. They looked the same, but they weren’t. It took only seconds for Harry to sense that something was different.

It was quiet, too quiet.

I’m too late! Harry thought as a surge of panic washed over him.

Hoping he was wrong, he proceeded cautiously as he moved further into the chamber. It was then that he noticed an eerie glow coming from the far corner.

Approaching the light, he saw the form of a girl resting in the center of the glow. She was lying on what looked like a giant stone slab covered in carved serpents. The light he’d seen was a crackling fire. It radiated from behind her, giving her body a rather strange ethereal glow.

Slowly, he moved in, watchful of his surroundings. When he was sure they were alone, he began to close the distance to her limp, lifeless body.

The room seemed to grow and elongate as he walked. He kept moving forward but didn’t feel like he was gaining much ground. When he finally reached her side, he looked down and gasped.

“No! It can’t be! …Ginny!” Harry’s throat constricted as his mind shot back years to the image of her lying on the floor of the Chamber of Secrets. “What happened to you? Wake up, Ginny!”

Reaching out, he touched her cheek. It was icy cold. Her skin was pale, her eyes were closed. She looked dead and he began to panic until he noticed the gentle rise and fall of her chest.

She’s breathing, he told himself. She’s still alive!

Ginny was bound to the table, lost in some sort of deep sleep. She was bruised and scratched. Her eyes were puffy and dark as though she’d been crying.

It’s only a dream, he reminded himself trying to shake the image. This can’t really be happening. She’s coming to see me. Fred and George said so themselves. Ginny is fine. Ginny is fine!

He could almost hear her calling to him even as he repeated the words in his mind.

The voice was off in the distance.

“Harry! Harry, wake up!”

The words finally sunk in as Harry sat bolt upright in bed and came face to face with the real live version of the girl in his dreams.

Ginny was sitting next to him on the edge of the bed. She had been trying to wake him. She looked frightened and exhausted, very much like her counterpart in his dream, except the scratches and bruises were gone.

“Harry, are you alright?”

He froze in silence, stunned by what he’d just seen in his dream. It was even more of a shock, however, to wake up and find Ginny sitting right beside him.

He wanted to grab her and pull her into his arms, relieved that she was safe. He was afraid that if he did though, she’d think he’d lost his mind. Resisting the temptation he just sat, staring at her.

“Harry?” she repeated his name. “What’s wrong?”

He didn’t want to scare her with the truth. Not knowing quite what to say, he lied to her instead.

“Er…I’m fine,” he muttered, trying to sound casual. “How long have I been asleep?”

Ginny looked at him questioningly, as if searching his eyes for answers.

“You found me…” she stated quietly after a short pause. “Didn’t you?”

________________________________________
Chapter 4 The Return of Riddle

Harry sat up in bed completely speechless as he stared at the ginger haired girl perched trembling at his side. He was utterly stunned at Ginny’s question as he played it over in his mind.

‘You found me… didn’t you?’

Harry had yet to respond. It was clear she wanted him to say something, anything, but the words simply wouldn’t come.

She bit her lip nervously as the moments ticked by in a vacuum of silence. Finally, his failure to acknowledge her question forced her to speak.

“Please Harry. Please talk to me. I don’t want to be alone anymore. Tell me you’ve found the chamber,” Ginny begged with her apprehension building. “You’ve found me,” she added in a small, unsteady voice.

Her desperation was breaking him as he nodded in response. Harry’s mind was reeling as the cold reality of her words began to flood in upon him.

She knew. She knew of his haunting dreams because she lived them. It was her screams in agony, her cries for mercy that he’d been hearing. It was Ginny all along.

He raced through the details of the visions, trying to piece together clues that made sense. Nothing fit. Why would he being having nightmares about Ginny? More importantly, why would he be sharing those nightmares with her? Surely he wasn’t flashing back to the episode in the Chamber of Secrets. Although there were some similarities to the experiences, they were really quite different. This wasn’t a memory. He was sure of that, but then what was it?

“This can’t be Ginny,” Harry insisted when he finally found his voice. “It just can’t.”

But even as the words left his mouth, he knew that Ginny would never lie to him.

Ginny exhaled slowly and dropped her eyes from his gaze.

“I’m sorry Harry. It is real, at least in a sense.”

He studied her features and saw them masked with the fear of rejection. He had to say something to reassure her.

“I believe you Ginny. If you say it’s real, then it is. I just don’t understand. How did you know? I haven’t told anyone about my dreams. They aren’t real. They can’t be. You’re sitting right here,” he said in disbelief as if saying it out loud would make it so.

“It was me in your dreams, or rather, you in mine Harry. I’ve been calling to you every night, hoping that you’d find your way.” Ginny rushed on. “I just thought that if anyone could do it, you could. After all, you’ve done it before. I’m so sorry.”

Harry just stared at her.

“Wha…What do you mean you’ve been calling to me? What did you think I could do? Ginny, what is going on?”

Ginny looked bone-weary. She focused on the floor as her eyes filled with tears. Harry studied her not knowing what to do. This was not like Ginny at all. She was always so strong, independent, unfaltering. The Ginny that he had grown to admire as a friend was not prone to break down. He wasn’t sure what to do. He reached out and placed his hand on her cheek. Gently he raised her gaze to his.

“Ginny? Please, just tell me what’s going on.”

A single tear broke loose and slid down her cheek, running over his warm hand and sending an odd tingling up his arm. She shuddered as she held his gaze for a moment before speaking.

“It’s…it’s Tom… Tom Riddle.”

Harry just gaped at her for a few seconds.

“Sorry? I thought you said that Riddle was doing this, but… that can’t be. I…”

He suddenly realized he was still cupping her face in his hand when she reached up to cover it lightly with her own and lowered his hand into her lap where she held it.

“I know it seems impossible, but somehow he has figured out how to enter my dreams. Maybe it’s because he possessed me before through the diary. Maybe he left a thread of his presence in me and made it easier for him to reenter my mind. I don’t know how, but I do know that it’s happening. He’s…”

She paused, unsure of how much to tell Harry about what had been happening.

“He’s what Ginny?” Harry asked becoming alarmed as she seemed to turn pale before his eyes.

“I’m…I’m more than his prisoner. It’s not enough for him to just contain me; he wants to control me. He’s been… torturing me, and apparently… enjoying it immensely,” she finished in a whisper.

“For how long?” Harry asked fearing he already knew the answer.

If he was rightt, it had been weeks. He could feel his anger mounting. He was angry at Riddle for what he was doing to her again, but he was also angry with himself for not finding her sooner. He could have stopped this if only he’d have gotten to her.

“Right after school ended the dreams began. At first, it wasn’t so bad really. He didn’t even speak. He would just watch me over me menacingly and then leave me alone to wonder what he’d do next. As time went on though, he grew bored of simple intimidation. He began to take on a more active role in my dreams.”

“But why Ginny? Why didn’t you tell someone? Your mum, Ron, anyone…they may have been able to help,” he asked as he held her hand more tightly in an attempt to soothe her.

She was quiet for several seconds before meeting Harry’s gaze directly. The look in her eyes made Harry ache with sympathy for her. A renewed loathing filled him for Riddle and the grief he had caused. Whatever Riddle had done, it was searing a scar into her heart and she was breaking from it.

“Please, try to understand,” she pleaded, her lips trembling and fresh tears forming. “I know telling someone, reaching out for help, seems like a simple thing to do, but I couldn’t. I was embarrassed, scared, confused. I just wasn’t sure what to say or how to say it. How do you tell someone who loves you so deeply that your pain becomes their pain that the most evil wizard in existence is invading your dreams? I think the reason I finally came to you, was because I knew you could understand what he does to a person. Haven’t you ever dreamed something that you didn’t think you could bare to tell anyone else?” she asked as her eyes begged Harry for understanding.

He nodded silently and sighed in resignation opening up in way to her that he rarely did with anyone, “I’m afraid I have… more than once. I think, sometimes, there are things that our minds show us while we sleep that we either don’t want to believe or simply cannot face. I think when you have things in your past that are painful; it can open the door to emotions that are already raw.”

Her eyes drifted closed at his words and she exhaled in relief, “Yes Harry, that’s just how I felt. At first I really thought they were just nightmares, you know, of my time in the Chamber of Secrets, but as it went on, he talked to me. He told me it was revenge for what I had done to him.”

“But, you didn’t do anything. It was me. I drove the basilisk tooth through the diary. I killed the image from his memory. You were innocent in it all. He was controlling you. You were powerless to hurt him, it was me,” Harry paused as he looked down at the hand she held then allowed his eyes to slowly travel up to meet her gaze. “Ginny, I’m so sorry that he’s punishing you for the things that I did.”

“How can you apologize for saving my life? If it weren’t for you, I’d have died in that chamber. Don’t you know by now, I owe you my life. Please Harry, don’t be sorry. I couldn’t bare it. You’ve helped me more than you know.”

Harry fell silent again. They’d never really talked about what had happened in the chamber. He never thought of it as saving her life, but as helping a friend. Years had passed since that night, but it was now obvious that they had forged a connection that Harry had never considered until now.

As if for the first time, he really looked at her. She had changed so much since the first day he met her on Platform 9¾. He felt so close to her at that moment. His breathing became somewhat erratic as he searched her eyes and tried to stop thinking of how feeling her hand in his caused his heart to pound. It was wrong. He just felt drawn to her because she was his friend and she was coming to him when she didn’t feel capable of confiding in anyone else. That had to be it. His body was just responding to her need for him, wasn’t it?

Ginny closed her eyes momentarily, searching for the words that would explain how she felt. When she opened them with a sigh she began, “I’m so sorry I pulled you into this Harry. I know it was wrong of me, but I felt so desperate and alone. I tried to handle it on my own, really I did. I thought I could do it, too. I can be a bit stubborn I suppose,” she admitted with a shrug trying to lift some of the tension. “I told myself that it was only a dream and that I was being weak, but as the nights wore on, I couldn’t take it anymore. I knew I needed help. Thinking of you, somehow gave me hope. I guess I thought that since you came and found me in the Chamber in real life, that you could do it in our dreams too.”

“But… how? How did you ‘pull me in’? I don’t understand how I am entering your dreams. That is what I'm doing isn’t it? It’s real…those are your screams I’ve been hearing.”

Ginny couldn’t hold her emotions in check any longer and she turned away from him. He watched as she began to shake and knew she was crying. He moved next to her and put an arm around her.

“Ginny, I’m so sorry…it’s going to be okay. I’ll help you. You know I will.” Without hesitation she buried her face in his chest, threw her arms around his neck, and sobbed against him. Hesitantly, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. He gently rubbed her back and shoulders as he tried to comfort her. He stroked her hair, suddenly aware of how soft it felt sliding through his fingers. His mind wandered to how good it felt to hold her and his heartbeat quickened. After a few minutes of indulgence he stopped himself. ‘What am I thinking? This is Ginny…she’s come to me as a friend…and I go all ‘male’ on her.

He drew back slightly and smiled encouragingly at her.

“Let’s start over. Can you tell me anything else? How this happened, exactly?”

She looked up at him and he thought he would melt. She had incredible eyes, shimmering with tears. He tried to focus as she began.

“When it started, I didn’t know what to do. At first it seemed like just a nightmare, but it was much more. I hated myself for allowing him back into my mind. I was scared and I felt so isolated,” she explained as he reached up absentmindedly with his free hand to wipe a renegade tear as it slid down her cheek.

“Riddle tried to tell me that no one would believe me,” she continued with a small shudder. “He said that they’d think I was mad if I told anyone. Part of me believed him at first. Even I thought I was going mad, so how could I expect anything more from anyone else?”

She paused briefly as she worked to shake the images from her mind.

“I almost told my mum once, but how could I? I’ve put her and my family through so much already. I love them. I didn’t want to worry and hurt even more than I already have.”

“Ginny, they love you. They’d want to help you,” Harry offered encouragingly.

“I know they love me, but I’d decided that it was my problem. I thought I could find a way out on my own,” she confided regretfully. “I bolstered myself each night and was determined to do it alone until I began to sense the presence of someone nearby. At first I didn’t know if it was real or just part of my dream. The longer I thought about it though, the surer I became that someone strong and determined was searching for me. In my waking hours, I could think of no one, but you,” she ended in a whisper with a slight blush to her damp cheeks.

“Me? Why did you think of me?” Harry asked.

“It made sense. You and he are linked Harry. I guess I was able to call to you in my dreams through your connection with Voldemort.”

Harry was slightly taken aback that she used the evil wizard’s name. Other than Dumbledore and himself, he’d heard very few wizards say it out loud.

She paused and looked away again before continuing, “I…I could feel you Harry. I could feel your presence surrounding me. The closer you felt…the more I cried out to lead you to me in my dreams. You gave me courage and hope that you’d come for me. It was only a matter of time.”

“You knew I’d come?” he asked as she nodded in response. “When I found you, at first I thought you were dead. What has he done to you?”

“I think when you finally found me today; I looked asleep because I wasn’t in the dream world with you. I mean, my physical body was awake.” She stopped and looked at him, “This doesn’t make any sense, does it?”

Harry was quiet for a long moment. Then he answered, “Ginny, not much of what has happened to any of us over that last few years has made sense. You and I have been through more at Voldemort’s hands than probably anyone else. It’s only right that we’d have some type of connection. We’re bonded in a way that really no one else can understand.” Harry reached out and took both of her hands in his. She felt her face heat as the warmth of his eyes and his heart filled her with hope.

“Thank you for trusting me Ginny. You’re not alone anymore. Tonight when we go to sleep, I’m going to come for you. I think I can get back again. We’ll face Tom together, I promise,” he said, offering a smile of encouragement.

Her lip began to tremble again as silent tears slid down her face. This time tears of relief as a small smile spread timidly across her face.

“Harry, I don’t know how to thank you.”

He smiled back at her and answered, “You don’t need to thank me. We’re friends. Right?” She nodded and smiled as he continued. “Then…it’s a date. I’ll see you tonight, in our dreams.”

She looked up at him. His words seemed to surprise her.

She leaned in stopping briefly to whisper, “Thank you, Harry.”

Her closeness caused a wave of emotion to flood him once again, but this time it was different. It wasn’t fear or sympathy that engulfed him, but a nervous energy that seemed to fill him from within. He felt her exhale against his skin and time seemed frozen. In those few seconds he found himself wanting to hold her again. He wanted to comfort her and make sure she was really alright. Then before he could register what was to come, she kissed him gently on the cheek and breathed the words “See you tonight.”

In the next moment she rose quietly and left him feeling suddenly quite alone in his bed as his door closed behind her with a small click. Harry just stared at the back of the door. The feel of her soft lips still burned on his cheek as he lifted his hand to the spot in delayed response.

What just happened here? he wondered to himself. Did I just say, “It’s a date.”? Where did that come from? Maybe she didn’t notice. No… she noticed you git.

He lay back on his bed again thinking of her. Her eyes, her hair, and the way she walked when she left the room. He mentally shook himself for his thoughts.

“I’ve got to snap out of it. Ginny’s Ron’s little sister,” he argued aloud. “Yeah, but she’s also sixteen. Hell! When did that happen and how did I miss it?”

Just then his door opened again, causing him to jump. For some reason he felt very guilty as if he’d been doing something very wrong just now. It was Fred.

“Oi! Harry! What are you on about? What happened and what did you miss?”

Harry was stunned temporarily, “Oh, nothing…I thought I forgot my…” scanning the room his eyes fell on his cloak, “my invisibility cloak, but I see it right over there now.”

Look