There's No Way

There’s No Way

 I do not know where I am. I do not know what I am doing here. I am trying to recognize this place, this prison, but it’s impossible. The walls are etched with gruesome images of snakes, long and evil. The floor is flooded in dark, dank water. It isn’t until I try to sit up that I can feel the cold. Very cold. I feel so tired, so weak. I look over at my diary. It is gone. That is when I feel it. His arms around me. Cold, dead arms. They sting at the touch and I turn to see who’s holding me. A man, no older than 16. His hair, dark as the night, only to be accented by the blood in his eyes. The red of a thousand open wounds, looking at me, slashing at my soul. I open my mouth to scream, but its blocked by his kiss. The kiss of a thousand painful daggers, sucking out my life, beating the life out of my veins. Powerful and rough. Sharp and frozen. I can’t breath. He pulls away, but the pain does not end. It isn’t over. His hands are gripping my arms too tightly. My head drops to my side, giving me one last glance around my grave. Everything is so dark. I can see my hero walking through this chamber. He seems to glisten, like my valiant knight. He is here to save me, he has to be. But I have a feeling that it is too late. I can barely make out the look of pure terror upon his face as he runs toward me, while I hang limp in my murderer’s arms. Harry yells, screaming as the room turns black. As I close my eyes my mind goes blank. Harry Potter, the boy who lived, is the last person I will see before I di-

 Eleven-year-old Ginny Weasley awakes in a cold sweat. Gasping for air, she walks over to the window. Third time she’s had that dream. With a glance to the calendar she checks her homemade countdown- in two days she will go to Hogwarts for the first time. All these dreams are probably just derived from her nerves. She looks out into the starry sky, watching the owls soar past the moon. The night is young and beautiful. The cool evening breeze calms her down, and Ginny heads back to bed. Before shutting off the light, she grabs her diary.

 Dear diary. Had that dream again, Tom. Third time this week!

 Did you, lovely? That’s really very strange, don’t you think?

Yes, I know. It’s probably very silly of me. There’s no way that Hogwarts could be that bad.

And Ginny closed her diary for the night, before it had a chance to write back. On the yellowed pages of the closed book, one message sank slowly back into the cold parchment...

It isn’t Virginia dear. Not yet, but it will be. It will be...