Marauder's Daughter (Eventual Tom Riddle X OC)

Chapter 38: Dress Shopping

"Harry?" I ask blearily to the boy who just woke me up by shaking my shoulder. I glanced outside, it's barely sunrise right now, so I'm curious why he woke me up.

"Abby..." Harry says shakily, and this catches my attention. I sit up and take a better look at him, he's as white as a ghost and sweating lightly. "I saw him. In my dream just now, and my scar hurt."

"Voldemort." I state in realization. "Was he alone?" I ask urgently. I didn't know for sure of this would still happen with Peter not having been around for so long.

"No, there was an old man, a muggle, he got killed at the end of the dream. But also..." He says while angrily trailing off. "There was another wizard there. A man named Wormtail. It was Peter Pettigrew."

"Damnit." I spit out. He looks at me in confusion. "How's your scar now?" I change the topic back to him.

"It still stings, but it's less now." He admits, rubbing his head. "I just thought I should tell someone." I move over to the side of my bed, indicating for him to get in. "What are you doing?"

"Making room?" I ask him in confusion, and then realize this was common with my brothers after a nightmare, but Harry's probably never done anything like this before. "Get in, it's still early, we can get more sleep." He looks at me oddly, then gets awkwardly into the bed, laying straight as a board on his back.

I giggle at his awkwardness and smoosh him into a cuddle. He complains lightly, but eventually I can feel his breathing level out and he falls back asleep. I forget often the British in general are much less touchy feely as American's are, Dad is usually the exception to their normal since he's a big hugger, at least with me, and the twins are always hanging onto me often.

Harry told Dad and Remus about the nightmare in the morning once we were all awake. It was about two weeks after his birthday, and just a couple of days before we leave for the World Cup. He told us in detail about the dream, how Voldemort was waiting for his servant, how he was after Harry himself, and all the other details. Harry was so determined it was Snape that Voldemort was referring to, but we all shot that down.

"It's not Snape, Harry." I say softly after Dad and Remus both made their arguments against him as well. They all look at me then. "I know it's not. I know you don't like him and don't trust him, but I do. He was a double agent, and he fits the type to double cross with his personality, but he is not the faithful servant to Voldemort."

"Who is it then?" Dad asks me. "Did you happen to see something?"

"No." I lie on the spot. I don't know why at this point I'm still lying to Dad, but I'm not ready to tell him the full truth yet. "It's probably someone who's going to infiltrate Hogwarts during the year. As a teacher, since that seems to always be an incredibly easy way of getting into the school." I scoff out in annoyance. "Not you, Remy, but you know what I mean." I smirk at my uncle, who sends me a subtle look to not tell them more now. "I can't see who it is yet though, so maybe it's not set?" I wrap up lamely.

The conversation drops after that, Harry left confused on why I was so cryptic and Dad left frustrated that we're going to face troubles in school again this year. But Dad dropped it for now, he was taking me and Harry out to get our school supplies and our dress robes. I knew all about the tournament, but Harry didn't, and Dad didn't know I knew. He was trying to prank us all summer so far with dropping taunting hints and talking excitedly about the tournament in code, and I was waiting until the last day to confess I knew the whole time. I'm letting him have his fun now though, especially since it was driving Harry mad. 

The twins were both also going bonkers over Dad's hints when they came and visited, which was a lot more frequent this summer than the others. They've started developing their prank products, and Molly keeps throwing them away, so we've sort of turned my room into a store house for some of their products. I feel like an illegal drug dealer at this point whenever Molly looks at me judgingly.