Harry Potter and the Gem of Grogonous

"I´m telling you, psychic visions aren´t real! If they were, why don´t those TV psychics quit their act and play the lottery?"

-- Kate, from the play `Absolute Murder!´

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Chapter 5

The Dreams

When everyone finally reached the inside of the Burrow and had then proceeded to wipe themselves clean of all the excess turquoise frosting, nobody felt much like sleeping. Mrs. Weasley reluctantly broke down her motherly instincts and served out cups of hot coco as George unearthed some spare Filibuster Fireworks and, with the help of Lee, set them off in the living room in a small fit of pre-bedtime chaos. Fred and Alexandrea lay together on one of the overstuffed couches and amused themselves by flinging Exploding Snap cards at the back of Percy´s head; at one point they set a bet on how many cards it took to cause Percy to mentally snap and strangle them both in a fit of psychopathic rage. Just as Ron began to describe the Cannons´ miserable loss to the Goblins to Harry, Ginny fell asleep with her head on the table, tipping a vase full of carnations. The water spread quickly over the wooden table and caused a few of George´s spare fireworks to set off and singe Percy´s eyebrows clean off. It was at this point which Mrs. Weasley made all the late night activities screech to a halt and insisted that everyone go to bed.

Alexandrea hauled up the drowsy Ginny to the girls´ bedroom as Fred, George, and Lee bid everyone a cheery good night and trotted up to the second landing. Ron led Harry to his room and, instead of going strait to sleep, they sat on Ron´s musty old bedroom carpet and began to discuss how to force feed Draco Malfoy a ColourMint. It was only until a very peeved Percy Weasley came bursting into the room, telling them off for being so loud that Harry and Ron got into their beds and turned off the light.

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Two figures walked across the dewy Quidditch pitch, laughing and talking as though they hadn´t a care in the world. Their surreal dream world came flying to a halt when, slowly, the earth beneath them began to quake in rumbling waves, splitting the ground in half. A monstrous cloaked figure rose from what seemed to be the very depths of hell. Without warning, a blinding green light flooded the field and the world around it, ripping through everything in its path.

Then the screaming started.

The blood curdling screams of the dying . . . .

Harry suddenly woke with a start, clamping a hand over his mouth so that he wouldn´t yell out. It took him several heart-pounding seconds to discover that he had had the nightmare again. It had all seemed so frighteningly real, as if he was physically there on the Quidditch pitch amongst the two dying children. And, even though he was awake, he could still hear the horrible screaming.

It was then he realized it wasn´t a dream after all.

"Ron? Ron?" Harry jumped out of bed and started to shake his friend, desperately trying to awaken him. "Something´s wrong - - Someone´s in trouble - -"

Ron´s sleepy eyes shot wide open. He, too, heard the loud screams of terror coming from within the Burrow. "Ginny," he said hoarsely, going deathly pale. "It´s coming from Ginny´s room!"

The two boys raced down the stairs, bolting through the hall to Ginny´s doorway. They found that the twins and Lee had arrived before them, staggered in the doorway while an air of confusion past around all three. Harry stepped into the room, brushing past George and Lee as he went, in order to take the whole situation in for a moment. It was soon evident that Ginny had not been the one who had screamed.

Alexandrea McKay was stooped down on the fold-out bed, receiving a deep, brotherly hug from Fred. Her dark eyes were glazed thickly; not looking as though she had been crying but as if she was utterly terrified. As pale as a white linen sheet, Alexandrea stared outwards, fixated on something far beyond them all.

"They´re dead," her voice came out as a strengthless whisper, her lips barely making any effort to form the words. "Dead before they had a chance to live- they were our only hope, but . . . but they´re dead."

Fred´s eyes darted quickly over his friend´s ghostly face, looking as though Alexandrea had just pronounced his death sentence. "Settle down, Alex," he mumbled. "It´s alright . . . no one´s dead . . . nothing will hurt you . . . just settle down."

"What happened?" Harry finally managed to ask.

"I heard her talking in her sleep," answered Ginny, who was still seated on her bed, her legs folded up to her chest. "She screamed and then started . . . babbling like this."

"Fred, Lee, and I all heard it too," added George, his glance not moving from where Alexandrea sat.

"All but one. There´s still one left," Alexandrea´s eyes widened and her breathing started to quicken as she continued on. "Three of them are dead--only three . . . . One is still alive. He´ll kill all four - - Oh God!" her head jerked violently away from Fred´s chest as her dark eyes connected with Harry´s. Something twisted fiercely inside Harry, causing him to stumble away from Alexandrea in a fit of brief fear. "We´re all going to die."

Before anyone had a chance to reply to this outlandish behaviour, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley came bursting into the bedroom, looking around to see if anyone was being murdered or bleeding profusely. Seeing that no one was on their death bed, Mrs. Weasley pieced together the puzzle and figure out what had fully happened.

"Alexandrea, dear. What--"

"It´s fine now. I mean, I´m fine," like the dawn after a storm, Alexandrea´s eyes instantly cleared. She quickly got up, moving away from Fred as if she was embarrassed to be seen sitting next to him. "Just a bad dream. No need for me to get bloody melodramatic over it. It´s all done and over with now."

Mrs. Weasley bit her lower lip, still looking far from convinced. "You screamed so loud, honey, we thought -- Oh, why don´t you come downstairs and I´ll give you a sleeping draught?"

"I´m alright. Honestly, I am," Alexandrea pressed, her voice finally returning back to its hard, regular tone. All of the colour was beginning to flow back into her face; she even managed a slight smile. "I´m sorry I woke everyone up. It was all just some berkish nightmare."

A deep scepticism swept across Fred´s pale face. "Are you sure?" he questioned. "Didn´t sound very berk--"

"Right, then! Which way did the burglar go?" a voice behind interrupted fiercely before Fred had a chance to question Alexandrea further. Everyone glanced back to see Percy staggered in the doorway, half asleep, holding a large metal frying pan over his head.

"There´s no burglar, Percy. Go back to bed," Mr. Weasley said, yawning widely. "And that goes for the whole lot of you."

Muttering under their breath, the twins and Lee bid a bitter good night to everyone but Alexandrea (who refused to make eye contact with anyone) and slid out of the room. Harry and Ron followed them down the hall and back up the stairs, where they were rudely held up by Fred, who stopped the other four boys by holding a hand out to block the way.

"Don´t you lot find that all slightly starkers?" he asked quietly, nodding back towards Ginny´s room.

"No," George replied bluntly as he tried to stifle an overenthusiastic yawn. "Between exploding cakes and our parents´ hair, that utterly belongs in out little house of complete chaos."

"Kick off, George," Fred said harshly, running a hand through his dishevelled hair. "For once in our lives, let´s try to be serious."

Ron let out a snort. "This coming from Fred . . . hell must be freezing over as we speak."

"I´ll have to admit that all of it was a bit strange, even for Alex," Lee commented. "It must have one hell of a nightmare, though; nothing scares that girl. Erm, except cockroaches . . . and a lot of blood . . .oh, and those freaky little ventriloquist dummies--"

"Thanks for covering all the basics, Lee," George took the time to roll his eyes before sending his twin a suspicious glance. "Why are you so concerned about it, Freddy-boy? We´ve all had nightmares that scared us at one time or another."

"It wasn´t the nightmare that has me worried," Fred dismissed the idea immediately. "It was what she said afterwards. Did you hear her? `We´re all going to die´ . . . that´s what she said. `We´re all going to die´. Alex wouldn´t go out on a limb and threaten out lives like that. Something´s definitely off with her."

George smirked. "It took you seventeen years to figure that out?" he asked. "Honestly Fred, I love Al to death, but I´ll be the first to admit that she´s slightly unbalanced in the head."

Before anyone could agree, Percy came storming into the hall, frying pan still in hand, and threaten to beat them all within a centimetre of their lives if they didn´t go back to bed that very moment. Because they were all one step away from total exhaustion, Harry, Ron, Fred, George, and Lee reluctantly decided to heed Percy´s empty threat. They all dispersed into their bedrooms, climbed back into bed, and tried to get some much needed sleep.

"No matter what George says, that was not something you see everyday," Ron mumbled, rubbing his sleepy eyes. "Alex? Scared to dead of a nightmare and then spurting out death wishes? Sounds more like something Trelawney would do."

"Maybe we should ask her about it in the morning," Harry suggested.

"Why bother?" Ron took a seat on the foot of his bed, looking up and Harry. "It´s not as if Alexandrea McKay is going to bring the bloody Apocalypse or anything. Unlike yours, her nightmares don´t mean a thing."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean `unlike mine´?"

Ron blinked, taking a second to think. "Well, you know," he started awkwardly. "You´ve always had . . . . dreams about You-Know-Who before he shows up. Most of the time, the nightmares you tell me and Hermione about really do come true."

Biting his lower lip, Harry sat on his own bed and looked back at his friend. He had thought about telling Ron about the nightmare he himself had been having recently, but now he frowned on it. No use on calling excess panic on this already staggered Weasley.

"I hope I didn´t make you mad, or anything," Ron grinned sheepishly. "But, with all of this stuff going, I just--"

"No need to worry about, Ron," Harry said with a slight smile. "You right, though. I shouldn´t think twice about it all." He paused, and then added jokingly, "These things happen to me, not Alex."

Ron nodded, laying down in bed and tossing off some of the warm, wool blankets. "I´ll bet good money that no one´s going to be dead tomorrow."

Harry chuckled, lying down as well. "Because only I could predict something like that," he said sarcastically

"Right. You or Trelawney."

"Exactly."

"Harry? Suppose you had a dream about Malfoy falling off a really tall cliff--"

"I´m not dreaming about Malfoy, Ron. It would be too disturbing."

"Don´t blame you. G´night."

"`Night Ron."

The lights, deciding that the two occupants of the room were ready to turn in, flickered out leaving the room in darkness. Harry, however, couldn´t help but stay awake for some time, staring blankly at the slanted ceiling while listening to the sound of Ron´s soft snoring. Two horrible nightmares in one night couldn´t have been some once-in-a-bloody-life-time coincidence. No, Harry decided finally, no matter what Ron said, something was definitely happening. Something that he himself could never prevent. Something was going to come to the mortal world, bringing the unholy Apocalypse with it.

Suddenly realizing how extremely irrational he sounded, Harry rolled onto his side, pulled his blanket up to his chest, and closed his eyes tight. "I´m going crazy," he murmured.

`Of course you are, honey,´ replied a small voice in the back of his mind. `Now stop talking to yourself and go to sleep.´

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Coming back to Wales was something of a homecoming for her. She had been born and raised on the island and, during her early years, had never bothered to look beyond it. This was where her true family was. Her son had sprouted from here, as did her daughter; and her husband -

Her husband was, of course, a different matter altogether.

She had been called back to this fine country on a burst of urgency from the Ministry of Magic. When they had first requested her to come back, she promptly told them all to stick their heads up each others´ arses and then roll themselves down the nearest hill. As if not fully grasping the hint, the Ministry kept pelting the poor woman with letter after letter, asking her to at least meet with their Main Council. Finally giving in to their pathetic child-like plea, she arrived in Southern Wales the next day, Apparating right on top of the Minster´s desk.

Minster Cornelius Fudge greeted the woman with a string of curse words which he tried to hold under his breath. She replied by transfiguring his new orange bowler hat into a woodchuck.

When all of the pleasantries were over and done with, Fudge dug right into business:

"The oracle is alive again."

There was an awkward pause. The woman then burst out with a loud overenthusiastic laugh. "Spot on, Fudge," she said with a large snort. "Tell me another."

"I´m serious," the Mister frowned darkly. "It was on display in Manchester when it became active again, spewing out prediction after prediction."

"That bloody thing should have been thrown into the Sound years ago," she muttered bitterly. "What nonsense is it coming up with this time? Is a Death Eater going to come in here and turn your desk into an armadillo?"

Fudge frown deepened. He was already growing tired of this woman´s antics. "It talks of the . . . the Saviours constantly," he said. "Plural. As in more then one Saviour."

She sniffed, wide-eyed. "And you believe -- That thing must have broken fifteen years ago when I threw it against the wall in Crouch´s office."

Fudge raised a suspicious eyebrow. "So you´re not going to believe anything it says? You think the oracle is wrong?"

"You´re wasting my good time, Fudge," she answered flatly, hopping off the Minster´s dishevelled desk. "I have what´s left of my family to look after. If you´re going to keep me here and pelt me with the same flying shit the Ministry´s been pelting me with for the past twenty years then I might as well do both you and I a favour and walk out of here right now."

"Your job has blinded you yet again," Fudge replied, his hands curling into tight fists. This woman had a way of really pushing his buttons. "If what the oracle is predicting actually comes true then--"

"Then we´ll all sit on our arses nicely and greet it when it comes."

Last nerve shattering like a pane of cheep glass, Fudge struck one of his clenched fists on the top of his desk. "The oracle has gained contact with two others!"

The woman paused at the doorway. What ever curse or retort she was going to blurt out got caught in the back of her throat. "Con -- Contact?" she sputtered.

Fudge nodded solemnly, glad that he had finally gained control over the woman. "With two or three people total. We don´t know who or even where. That´s why the Ministry called you in."

She snorted, more in disbelief then in sarcasm. "Me? You think I know what that half-arse oracle is throwing together? Do you think that, at this point in my life, I would care?"

"Is that it? We´re reaching out to you and you push back out support?" Fudge burst. "You´re the last one left. The last of your kind. When the other three past away--"

"When the others past away, as you so lightly put it, I was left alone. Without friends or family; scared out of my mind," the woman´s dark eyes flashed with the mentality of a cornered jungle cat. "You took them away from me! You made me an outcast, the Ministry´s dirty little secret, and now you expect me to bend to your every request?"

"We tried to help you!" Fudge pressed. "The Ministry supported everything you four did . . . up until Reilly died. That man made his own mistakes we couldn´t--"

"Minister," she interrupted, leaning forward so that she was almost nose to nose with Fudge. "Wank off."

Fudge´s broken nerves were set aflame. "GET OUT OF MY OFFICE!"

"With deep pleasure," she smirked wildly. "So sorry my family and I are such a burden to you, Fudgie. Maybe you´ll feel better when the Ministry wipes us off the face of the earth."

"I´ll welcome the day," Fudge sneered. "Now get out!"

"I hope you make friends with the oracle soon," the woman said, walking out of the office and through the door, "because one of its contacts is quite pissed off."

The door slammed behind her, reflecting the anger she had gusted out. Cornelius Fudge was left sitting behind his desk, hands cupping his face in complete frustration.

"What have I done?" he murmured to himself. "What have I done?"

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