Chapter one: Only Dreams

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If you were to look beneath the side window at number 4 Privet Drive, you would find a particularly dead looking bush. If you were to look inside that particularly dead looking bush, you would find a thin boy with hair the colour of spilled ink. If you were to push away the hair, you would find a peculiarly shaped scar on his forehead, and if he were to open his sleeping eyes, they would be a startlingly bright shade of green.

Harry Potter, with the aid of the drowsy summer heat and yet another disappointing afternoon listening in to the news, had fallen into a deep sleep. Lately, Harry's dreams had been plagued with questions. Questions that no one seemed to think were important to answer.

What was the Order doing about Voldemort?

How were Ron and Hermione?

How were Sirius and Remus?

Why was nobody answering his letters?

Why was nobody telling him a damn thing!

A furrow appeared in the sleeping boy's brow as he shifted slightly, causing the whole bush to shake.
"Stop," Harry mumbled as his dream changed into something more sinister.

~~~~~~~~~~~

He stood in a large field, the sky covered with black clouds. A harsh wind whipped through Harry's body as he turned around in panic.

"Hello? Is anybody there!"

The wind answered him, tearing through the empty grass field, whistling eerily.

"Anybody!" Harry yelled, the feeling of dread heavy in his chest.

"Harry, how nice of you to join me here," a voice whispered, seeming to come from all directions at once, it filled Harry's head, and for that moment when it was speaking, Harry couldn't think of anything else.

The wind stopped suddenly, leaving the field in complete silence.

"Who are you?" Harry murmured into the silence.

"Not yet Harry," the voice hissed, filling Harry's head again. "Not yet."

~~~~~~~~~~~

CRACK!

Harry jerked awake and blinked, looking around disconcertedly, He grimaced as the summer heat flooded back, banishing the last remains of the freezing wind from the dream.

"Boy! What the hell are you doing underneath the window again!"

Harry looked up and started at the sight of his Uncle's purple face glaring down at him.

"I was listening to the news, but I fell asleep," Harry mumbled, standing up and brushing bits of dried bush from his too big pants and shirt.

"Again! This is the third time this week," Harry's Aunt chipped in haughtily, placing a hand on her husband's shoulder.

Harry glared at both of them, the sun beating down on his shoulders uncomfortably. He found himself longing to be back in the cool, quiet field.

"Didn't you know that the news changes everyday?" Harry spat, turning on his heel and walking away, ignoring the outraged shouts from behind him.

"Boy! Wait! What was that noise?"
Harry sighed and faced his Uncle, who's fat chest was hanging halfway through the window.

"What noise?" Harry asked through gritted teeth.

"The crack that came from out here," he paused, thinking for a second before his face turned a deeper shade of puce, "It wasn't one of you was it?"

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