The Dream

The pain in Harry's scar was more powerful and blinding than he'd ever experienced before. Everything was blurred, even through his glasses. He breathed in hard, then let the air escape his lungs slowly. Harry stood up and got dressed, intent not to let it keep him down.

He lingered in the common room until the pain dimmed, then rushed down to the Great Hall for breakfast. What would Hermione and Ron think?? What would they say?? Who cared, it was fine now, right??

"Hey, Harry. You feeling okay?? You look a little . . . stressed," Hermione said.

"Your turn to check up on me, huh??" he laughed a little.

"You aren't throwing me off that easily," she said flatly.

"Okay, fine. I'll tell you, then," he said, leaning closer to her. "My scar hurt this morning, really bad."

"Hmm, you know my advice already," Hermione said nonchalantly.

"Err, let me guess. Tell Dumbledore, and in the meantime, consult a book?"

"Bingo," she replied, not taking her eyes off her Arithmancy book. That very moment, hundreds of owls flew into the Great Hall. Hedwig flew down to Harry, a letter and a parcel tied to her foot.

Harry,

I knew you'd forget this.

Sirius

Harry opened the parcel. It was his father's invisibility cloak "I forgot this on purpose," he muttered.

"Why?? I thought you loved it," Hermione said curiously.

"I'm going to try to stay out of trouble," Harry confessed. Hermione choked her laughter into a cough.

"Harry! I think I know why your scar hurt this morning," she said, looking startled, as she unrolled her copy of the Daily Prophet.

"Why . . . ." he dropped his question as she shoved him the paper. The headline read 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named Spotted'. Harry coughed loudly. "This, no. This isn't true. It can't be. Can it?"

Neither Harry or Hermione ate anything for the rest of the meal. Harry just stared at his half-empty plate.

Later that afternoon, Hermione, Harry, and Ron took their usual seats in the front of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. The bell rang and Professor Lupin, who had returned last year to teach entered the classroom.

"As a lot of you may well already know, Voldemort (there was a slight gasp from the class) has returned and has a body of his own, again. How this happened, I haven't the slightest idea, but we must all be prepared to face the worst."

Week of hard training and work in all of their classes turned into months. Between Quidditch and school, Harry had no time for anything. November came and with it, so did the snow.

One snowy morning, Harry woke up with his scar hurting terribly again. He laid in bed, staring at the crimson draping's of his four-poster bed for what seemed like hours.

The pain didn't ease.

Harry got dressed and half-ran to the Great Hall, whose ceiling was covered in dark gray clouds. He walked past his usual seat and up to Professor McGonagall.

"I need to see the headmaster, it's urgent," Harry said.

"What's the problem, Potter?" she said stiffly, she didn't like being interrupted during a meal.

"My scar, professor," He said, only half-calm this time.

"Oh, dear," she got up and lead him across the Great Hall. Hermione gave him a puzzled look, but didn't move from her seat. He winced and pointed to his forehead. Harry could tell, it was all she could do to not run after him.

The walked for what seemed like hours, the pain in Harry's forehead seemed to be getting worse with every footstep. Finally Professor McGonagall whispered something to a gargoyle. They walked up a flight of stairs and into Professor Dumbledore's circular office. Harry glanced over at Fawkes, a gorgeous Phoenix bird.

"Professor . . ." Harry couldn't think of how to say it.

"You're scar hurts, doesn't it?" the headmaster said. Harry wasn't bewildered, Dumbledore knew everything.

"Err, yeah," Harry said.

"That can mean only one thing. Voldemort is near," Dumbledore said, a tone of worry in his voice. "You have two options, Harry."

"What are they?" Harry asked, not sure he wanted to hear what was going to be said.

"You can hide, or you can fight."

The two options swam around inside of his brain. At the moment, he wanted to run and hide. He couldn't though. He couldn't just hide like a baby. He'd rather die fighting than die hiding.

"I'll fight," Harry said confidently. "I'll fight."