The Dark Lord Returns (EDITED)

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I opened my eyes, taking note of my surroundings, a little confused. I was walking through a graveyard, one specifically made for the war against the dark lord. My father had taken me here many times, he'd knelt down and touched gravestones whilst whispering names under his breath, "Tonks, Lupin, Fred... Colin." But this time, I was all alone. I continued walking through the night, I finally came across a dark grave, which had been split open. The coffin inside was gone. A slightly darker patch of dirt marking where it should have belonged. Why was there a coffin missing?

Before I could answer my own question, I heard a hiss, dark and menacing, coming from behind me, turning, I saw a massive snake.
It was whispering to me, saying things. That wasn't possible. I couldn't be a Parseltongue, my family had been in Gryffindor for years, that power resides in Slytherin.

"Come with meeeeeeeeee...." It hissed.

With out a sound it turned, and I followed, which may have sounded stupid, but for some reason, I couldn't help it. It led me around graves for around fifteen minutes, before we came to a clearing, in the middle, stood a pale, snakelike figure, tall and menacing, but entirely recognisable, Voldemort. He was even more snakelike in appearance than she remembered from drawings and the occasional photo, but it wasn't him I was startled by, it was the boy standing next to him, his eyes had turned a venomous red, yet he was utterly couldn't be...James?

I gasped, waking with a start. James couldn't be was just a dream, he wouldn't join Voldemort, would he? He was my brother, my dearest friend. We'd spent so many hours playing games and pulling tricks on each other as children. There was no way he'd ever help our family's greatest enemy. He was loved. James belonged, surely he must know how much we all loved him, and therefore never consider leaving our family for darkness. He wouldn't betray that love. And besides, Voldemort was long dead, his Death Eaters had all been found guilty of treason, murder, torture and countless other crimes, he was powerless. And James was here, at Hogwarts, evil couldn't reach us here. But I still couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. If I was so certain the James was good, why had that dream occurred? It was as if some invisible force was trying to warn me, to tell me that my brother wasn't who he seemed to be. And part of me wanted to listen to that voice. James was always the one who didn't consider consequences, he wasn't aware of the people who might get hurt if he does something. He never saw the importance of a family. Or love. James was a little different, and maybe, just maybe, that difference could have led him awry. It wasn't likely, but I still knew it was possible, and I had to accept all possibilities.

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