The Hardest Choice?

A girl's scream ripped through the silence. It was a scream of sheer agony.

Harry whipped around, startled. "What the heck...?" His wide eyes stared blindly into the darkness that enclosed him.

The scream echoed all around, almost hanging in the air, before fading slowly away. He held his breath, listening. His heart pounding in his head almost drowned it out.

It was impossible to tell from which direction it had originated, it seemed to come from everywhere at once.

Holding his arms out in front, he edged forward, groping around, looking for something - anything - that would help him to get his bearings.

But there was nothing.

He bent down to touch the floor. It felt cold, like stone. He dropped to his knees and began to crawl.

Minutes passed. Still nothing.

Where was he?

A soft whisper in his ear made him freeze.

"The Boy Who Lived..." Then a chuckle.

Harry turned his head slowly, a feeling of dread welling inside him. "Who's there?"

The chuckle grew louder. "...crawling..."

"Who's there?!"

"...to me...!" The chuckle suddenly erupted into hard, cold laughter.

Again, the girl screamed. It sent a shiver down Harry's spine. "I said, 'Who's there?' damn you!"

But by now Harry knew the answer. The scar on his forehead was burning.

He scrambled to his feet, searching his pockets for the hundredth time. It was futile. For some inexplicable reason his wand was not with him, and somehow he sensed it was gone forever.

The scream subsided into wracking sobs, but the laughter persisted.

Harry lunged wildly in one direction, then the other before losing his balance and falling on his backside. "Stop it!" he yelled, gripping his head and pulling at his hair.

"HA...HA...HA...HAAAAAA...HA...HA...HAAA...HA...HA...HAAAAAAAA"

It was becoming unbearable.

"HA...HA...HA...HAAAAAA...HAA...HA...HA...HAAAA...HAAAA...HA...HAA...HAAAA..."

He covered his ears with his hands, pressing hard, but it penetrated effortlessly, filling his head, becoming an entity that twisted and writhed and tore at his mind. A trickle of blood ran down his left hand.

He squeezed his eyes shut against the throbbing pain and curled up into a ball on the floor.

Then, abruptly, it ceased.

In the overwhelming silence that followed, Harry heard the whisper of the voice again.

HIS voice.

"Come...Witness The Breaking..."

Then the incoherent, barely audible girl's voice mumbled, "No...You mustn't..."

With growing horror, it was Harry's turn to scream.

"HERMIONE...!! NOOOOO!!!"

The rasp of a curtain being drawn back was followed by the appearance of a light from beside Ron's bed.

Other curtains were pulled back and from all around the room came muffled voices.

Harry was sat bolt upright in his bed, his black hair a ruffled mess and a sheen of sweat on his face.

Ron struggled from his duvet and padded over barefoot, yawning.

Someone nearby mumbled, "It's just Potter having one of his nightmares...", and grumbling people re-drew curtains around their beds.

"You alright mate?" Ron asked quietly, sitting on the end of Harry's bed.

Harry looked at him. Then he touched a hand to his left ear. His fingers came back smeared with blood.

Ron's eyes widened in the dim light. "Blimey...What happened?"

Harry stared at his fingers in silence.

Digging around in his pyjama pockets Ron produced a tissue. He offered it to him.

But Harry didn't notice. He'd turned and was fumbling under his pillow. His fingers closed over his wand and he breathed a small sigh of relief.

He threw his sheets back and got up. "We have to check on Hermione," he told Ron, as he popped his glasses on askew, and snatched up his scarlet dressing gown embroidered with the golden Gryffindor lion.

"Why?" Ron asked, standing up.

But Harry was already halfway to the door. Ron grabbed his own dressing gown and hurried after him, down the stairs to the deserted common room.

Before Harry could cross to the stairs leading to the girls' dormitories, Ron grabbed his arm. "Are you going to tell me what's going on?"

"I'd like to know that myself," Harry mumbled. He turned towards Ron. His face flickered with shadows from the candles in their wall sconces that lit the room. "I just had another nightmare."

Ron grinned wryly. "I kind of guessed that..." Then he frowned. "Hang on, what do you mean by another one? How many have you had?"

Harry shook his head impatiently. "None before tonight. But remember last year? Those dreams I had about Voldemort, when I could see what he was doing?"

Ron nodded.

"Well this one felt just like those. Real. Like I was there." He turned and strode over to the stairs.

Ron followed. "What does this have to do with Hermione?"

There was no answer.

"Harry?" Ron prompted.

Sighing, Harry stopped. "She was there, in the dream."

"And?"

Harry turned to Ron again. His eyes were shadowed as he spoke. "Voldemort had her. He...he was...she..." He drew a ragged breath. "She was screaming in agony. It was horrible..."

Ron glanced up the stairs and swallowed. "I'm sure she's ok," he said, but without much conviction.

Harry held up his bloodstained hand. "Voldemort did that to me in my dream. Are you still so certain Hermione's all right?"

Ron gazed at Harry's hand fearfully. "How are you going to get to the girls' rooms though?" he asked, somewhat shakily. "You know as well as I do that the minute you tread on that bottom stair you'll end up on your back on the floor." The boys had learnt that particular lesson the hard way.

Before Harry could answer, the Fat Lady's portrait on the wall suddenly swung open and a small brown-haired girl scrambled through. She blinked in surprise when she saw Harry and Ron looking at her.

Then blushed when she spotted Ron's prefect badge and recognised him.

"I...I..." she stammered but Ron hastily waved away her explanation. He glanced at Harry. Harry nodded.

Ron made his way over to the girl. She took a cautious step back.

"You're a second year aren't you?" he asked her. She nodded mutely.

"Do you know which dormitory is Hermione Granger's?"

The girl nodded again.

"Can you check that she's ok for us?" Harry interjected.

The girl eyed him suspiciously. Harry sighed. People were still wary of him, even now.

Ron silenced him with a glance. He turned back to the girl. "We just want to know that she's ok."

"Why?" she asked, a mixture of confusion and curiosity on her face.

Harry moved forward. "Will you just do it?" he asked, but Ron spoke over him.

"Listen, if you do this for us, I'll 'forget' that you left Gryffindor tower after hours..." He folded his arms to appear more authoritative than he looked, stood there in his robe and pyjamas, with his hair all over the place.

The girl bit her lip uncertainly, and then shrugged. "Guess I don't have much choice. Ok, I won't be long."

Harry watched her disappear up the stairs then started pacing the floor.

Ron leaned against the fireplace and observed him. "This dream's really unnerved you hasn't it?"

Harry continued pacing. "It wasn't just a dream. There's more to it than that, I'm sure of it."

"Like what?"

"I wish I knew."

Ron pursed his lips thoughtfully. "...Maybe you should speak to Dumbledore?"

"Why?"

"Well, maybe he can help..."

Harry snorted. "Don't tell me, by getting Snape to teach me Occlumency again? Great...(!)"

"Snape's a member of the Order too, no matter what we think of him. Dumbledore trusts him...That must count for something." Ron ignored the dubious glance that Harry shot him. He couldn't quite believe it himself - had he just defended Snape, of all people?

"Anyway, Sirius told you to go to Dumbledore when you had the other dreams, but you didn't, and look what happened..." Ron let his words trail off as he realised what he had said. "Sorry mate. You know I'm not saying that what happened was your fault..."

Harry opened his mouth to tell Ron it didn't matter but he stopped at the sound of footsteps on the stairs again. Ron came to stand beside him.

The dark-haired girl re-appeared, slightly out of breath.

"Well?" Harry demanded.

She shot him an indignant look and pointedly addressed Ron. "She's sat in her bed reading a book, and she seems fine."

Ron smiled at her. "That's typical of Hermione! Thanks," he said, as she headed back up the stairs.

Harry turned away in open relief.

"So it was just a dream then." Ron dropped into the nearest armchair.

Harry took the one opposite. He shook his head. "Like I said, I think there's more to it. What about the blood? That was real enough."

Ron shrugged. "Maybe there's a simple explanation."

Harry frowned. "No...Somehow I don't think so." He rubbed his scar subconsciously. "I know one thing though. I can't just dismiss something like this again, not after last year..."

**********************************************************************************************************

Half an hour later, Ron retreated to his bed.

Harry remained where he sat. He kept closing his eyes to think things through, but each time his head filled with intolerable pain.

And the memory of Hermione's tortured screams.

He knew sleep tonight would be impossible...