The Noctis Codex | DRARRY

ONE

Harry's eyelids fluttered open, the warmth of the sun crawling over every inch of his body. His fingertips tingled as they brushed against the soft grass beneath him, while the fresh scent of nature danced playfully in the air.

The wizard had never felt more at pace. The war robbed him of any sense of serenity. And for a moment, he allowed himself to relax completely, savouring the tranquility that surrounded him.

But that serenity shattered as soon as it came. He turned his head to the left, and his heart raced as he spotted Draco Malfoy standing there, a look of surprise etched across his features. For a split second, fear gripped him, the calmness of the moment replaced by a rush of adrenaline. What was Malfoy doing here? The peaceful scene suddenly felt threatening, and Harry's mind raced with questions.

"Of all the people I could dream about," Draco scoffed, glaring at Harry with distaste, "I get stuck with you, Potter."

Harry blinked, trying to shake off the confusion. "Malfoy, what are you doing here?"

Draco rolled his eyes, as if the answer was obvious. "Clearly, I'm stuck in the same ridiculous dream as you." He gestured around at the peaceful field with clear disdain. "Though I'm not sure why my subconscious would choose this idyllic scene—or you."

"Your subconscious?" Harry asked as he pushed himself up, feeling a flash of irritation. "This is my dream."

Draco let out a derisive laugh. "As if I'd dream of you, Potter. Must be a nightmare in disguise."

The dark-haired wizard frowned, visibly irritated by his mind's choice of dreams. "Right... Well, I'm waking up now. Good luck with the rest of your dream, Malfoy."

"Don't worry," Draco shot back, "I'll be doing the same."

But as the two stood there, neither woke up. They remained in the strange, peaceful meadow, surrounded by thick, awkward silence.

Just as Harry parted his lips to retort, the world around them shifted violently. The sunlight vanished, and the soft grass beneath his feet melted into cold, hard wood. The once-gentle breeze was replaced by the suffocating stillness of a dimly lit room.

Harry blinked, his heart lurching as he recognized where they were—Godric's Hollow. His first home. His throat tightened.

"What the—?" Draco's voice was sharp with confusion, but Harry barely heard him. His attention was fixed on a small crib in the corner of the room, tucked into the shadows.

Before either of them could speak, hurried footsteps echoed from outside the door, which then flew open. A woman with striking red hair—Lily Potter—rushed in, her face pale with terror. In her arms, she clutched a baby no more than a year old, with messy black hair—Harry.

Draco froze beside him, his expression shifting from irritation to bewilderment. "Is that...?" He didn't finish the question, but Harry knew exactly what he was thinking.

He couldn't speak. His body tensed with dread, knowing what was about to happen.

Lily glanced around the room frantically before setting baby Harry into the crib, her hands trembling as she adjusted the blankets. "Stay here," she whispered to the infant, her voice thick with fear. "Mummy loves you."

Suddenly, Voldemort's voice, cold and merciless, echoed from somewhere in the house. "Step aside, girl." The dark figure loomed in the doorway, wand raised.

Lily spun around, placing herself between the crib and the intruder, her body a shield. "Not Harry, please! Take me, kill me instead!"

Harry's heart pounded in his chest. He knew these words too well. He had heard them in nightmares, but never like this. Never so loud and clear.

Draco stood still, wide-eyed and silent, as if sensing the gravity of what he was witnessing.

The green flash of Avada Kedavra lit up the room, illuminating Lily's face for a split second before her body crumpled to the floor, lifeless.

Harry felt like he couldn't breathe. His mother was murdered, and all he could do was watch, helpless and horrified.

Voldemort turned his wand toward the infant, and once again, that familiar green light shot through the room—only this time, the curse backfired. A terrible shriek filled the air as Voldemort's form disintegrated into nothingness.

And just like that, the room fell deathly silent.

Draco took a shaky breath, his usual smug demeanor gone, replaced by shock. "This... this is your dream?" His voice was low, almost horrified.

Harry didn't respond. His hands trembled at his sides, his mind struggling to process the fact that he had just relived the murder of his parents—not as a distant memory, but as if it were happening all over again.

He couldn't grasp the bizarre nature of this dream. It had been ages since he had experienced a nightmare so hauntingly vivid. And not to mention the fact that Malfoy was there as well.

Harry's chest felt heavy, his throat numb, and all he wished for was to finally wake up.

—

"Stop!" Harry yelled before he gasped in shock, his voice filled with anxiety. By the time he could register where he was, Ron had already jumped back, eyes wide with concern.

"Harry! What's wrong?" Ron's voice cut through the remnants of the dream, pulling Harry fully into reality. He was back in his own bed, drenched in sweat, the morning light filtering through the curtains. But the images of his childhood home—the screams, the terror—still echoed in his mind.

"Just a dream," the younger man breathed, trying to steady his racing heart. He ran a shaky hand through his messy hair, the weight of the nightmare still heavy on his chest. "Just a dream."

Ron frowned, his brow furrowing with worry. "You were shouting. What happened?"

Harry swallowed hard, the details of the dream rushing back like a tidal wave. "It was... it was my parents. I saw them die. Voldemort was there, and—"

"Blimey, Harry," Ron interrupted, his eyes wide. "You've got to stop letting those memories haunt you. It was years ago."

"I know," Harry muttered, frustration rising. "But it felt so real. And then there was.. Malfoy."

"Malfoy?"

"I don't know why. It was really weird, believe me."

Since it was already time to wake up, Harry reluctantly pushed aside the warmth of his sheets and fought against his lingering tiredness as he brushed his teeth. After changing into his robes and taming his unruly hair, he and Ron made their way out of the dormitories and into the lively Gryffindor common room.

Once there, the boys joined Hermione, and together they headed to the Great Hall for breakfast. The room buzzed with the usual laughter and the sounds of clinking cutlery, a comforting backdrop to the start of another day at Hogwarts. Harry tried to immerse himself in the chatter, but the remnants of his dream lingered in the back of his mind, casting a shadow over the cheerful atmosphere.

As they walked up to their seats, Harry's gaze instinctively darted to the Slytherin table, searching for the familiar figure of Malfoy. He felt a strange mixture of curiosity and unease.
However, Draco's chair remained conspicuously empty, to his relief.

It was hard for him to concentrate on his friend's conversation, which consisted of the Quidditch tryouts next week.
"What do you think, mate?" Ron asked as he shoved a slice of toast into his mouth, causing his friend to look up from his empty plate. Harry shrugged, trying to sound enthusiastic despite the weight of his thoughts. "Not like I have to worry about that; I'm already on the team."

A grin replaced Ron's lips in response. "True, but I need to make the team as a Chaser! Just wait until I show them my moves!"

Just as the younger boy was about to voice his support for his best friend, the doors to the Great Hall swung open, and in walked Malfoy, his expression as haughty as ever. The Slytherin's eyes scanned the room until they landed on Harry, a flicker of something unknown passing between them.