snape and skull

54

In Dreams Truth
T

he drawn-out whimpering echoed through Snape's chambers, bringing the Potions Master to his feet in seconds. Dante! He thought in alarm and hurried over to the room the young wizard was sleeping in. He opened the door and entered, finding the boy in the throes of a nightmare, thrashing and twitching as if he was being tortured.
S

everus approached the bed, now able to make out some words inbetween the moans.
"No . . . please no . . . don't hurt . . .don't . . ."
In response to his panicked emotional state, Dante's magic roused and several books on his desk flew about the room, forcing Severus to duck lest he end up brained in the head by 1001 Magical Herbs and Fungi Level 3, or a pair of the boy's sneakers. Bloody hell, Snape! He's using accidental magic in his sleep! Such an occurrence was extremely rare, and it was indicative of some awful trauma in the child's life. May Merlin have mercy, the professor thought sorrowfully. What in hell did his father do to this boy?
Severus drew his wand and intoned, "Finite Incantatum!"
His spell cancelled out the nascent uncontrolled magic and the books and sneakers dropped to the floor. Severus stepped over them for now and approached the bed.
One lean hand reached out to gently shake the boy's shoulder. "Dante . . . you're having a nightmare, child. Wake up!"
He kept his voice quiet but authoritative, hoping to bring the boy out of whatever hellish dream he wandered in.
Dante continued to whimper and thrash about, jerking spasmodically, like an animal in a trap. Or like the victim of the Cruciatus, Severus thought, feeling slightly ill.
"Dante!" he called again, and this time his voice elicited a response.
But not the one he expected.
The boy sat up, his eyes open, but they were not focused on the present. They were clouded with terror and desperation. "Don't! Please! Don't hurt her, Dad!"
Severus did not know who "she" was, but from the boy's reaction, she was someone who Dante cared about. Before he could speak, Dante whimpered and flinched, nearly cowering into the wall.
" . . .I'm sorry . . .I didn't mean it . . ." Dante babbled, his eyes leaking tears. " . . .she doesn't deserve that . . . You can curse me all you want, just leave her alone, Dad . . ."
Severus felt his jaw clench, for the begging reminded him of his own horrid childhood, and pleading with Tobias not to hurt Eileen when he was in one of his drug induced rages. Though he was unsure whom Dante was trying to protect—since his mother had died when he was a baby. His gut clenched in sympathy and he put his hand gently on Dante's shoulder again, trying to bring him out of the flashback.
"Dante, you're having a flashback . . . it's Severus, I need you to come back now. Come back. You're safe with me, child. Dante . . ."
It was then he wished that Skullduggery were here, because the raven was better at comforting than he was. But his familiar wasn't, and Severus was. He knew that he should just allow the distraught child to wake on his own, but Severus could not stand watching the torment the youngster was going through, and even his Occlumency shields did not prevent him from empathizing on some deep level with his cousin. God help me, it's like watching a Pensieve memory from my own disaster of a childhood, Snape thought with a bitter twist of his lips. I knew there had been some kind of abuse, but on this scale . . .dammit why did no one know?! Then he shook his head. He knew better than anyone how the victim was conditioned to hide all traces of it. And given what he knew of Sulla Prince, the man had covered his tracks well. He had power, influence, and charisma, as well as magic that he used ruthlessly. He's lucky he's dead, otherwise I would teach him the true meaning of fear and humiliation, the miserable bastard! Severus thought savagely. He knew that sometimes people believed him coldly dispassionate, never knowing that such was a mask he had learned to put on years ago as an agent, so he did not become an emotional wreck watching Voldemort torture and kill children. But few people knew that beneath the uncaring façade lurked a compassionate heart, and there were few people he detested more than child abusers. Like his father and his uncle.
An instant later he smothered the anger and forced himself to remain calm. Raging at a ghost would help no one. Focus on the boy, Snape. He needs you now. He knew of one sure way to bring Dante out of the waking nightmare he wandered in.
The professor drew his wand and set the tip against the shivering child's temple. "Legilimens!"
The master spy slipped easily into the child's mind, locating the flashback Dante was trapped in almost instantly, as it was foremost in the sleeping boy's thoughts. Using all his discipline, Snape walked into the memory . . .
The Golden Prince,
Wyoming, 3 years previously:
Dante shrank back against the cupboard with the fine china, hearing the dishes rattle in warning behind him. The cabinet had been handmade and one of the few possessions Sulla had kept of his wife's, it was a family heirloom crafted by her ancestor Will Makepeace, the brother of her great great grandmother, or something like that. Inside the cabinet was a set of Wedgewood china.
Magic flared in pulses around the rustic kitchen, both Dante's uncontrolled aura and the angry one of Sulla Prince. The boy stood half-defiantly before his father, a tall man with neatly barbered midnight hair and eyes of glacier blue. Sulla Prince was a handsome man, one who knew how to use his good looks to fool people into thinking he was nothing more than a pretty face. But appearances were often deceiving as Dante knew very well.
Sulla might look the part of a rich playboy, but that was a façade to hide the cutthroat businessman and ruthless dealer in dark magic. He stood proudly in front of his son, his Saville Row three-piece suit incongruously out of place in the homey kitchen with its white chintz curtains, blue tiled floor, and maple trimmed walls of butternut. The countertops and appliances shone, as per Blue Sparrow's exacting standards of cleanliness.
Dante lifted a hand to protect his face, though one cheek already sported a handprint from Sulla. "Sir . . . please don't hurt Sparrow . . . it was my idea to study with Shaman Eagle Crest, all she did was take me to him . . ."
"She overstepped her place!" Sulla growled. "I hired her as my housekeeper, cook, and nanny—a servant, nothing more! She had no right to encourage my heir to study with those heathens and learn their inferior magic!"
"Their magic isn't inferior, sir! Just different!" Dante cried, knowing too late that he never should have disagreed with the furious wizard whose only tie to him was blood.
"Inferior!" Sulla spat. "Do you think you know more than me, boy? You arrogant little pig! I brought you into this world and I can take you out of it, by God!"
His hand flashed out and smacked his son alongside the head, making the boy's ears ring and his head hit the bottom of the shelf with the chafing dishes on it.
"I never should have left you so long in her care . . . look how she's corrupted you—" Sulla ranted. "—filling your head with all this equality for all nonsense, and letting you learn earth magic from one of her people! You're MY heir and you are above such things, am I understood?"
Frightened hazel eyes met glacier blue ones for a brief instant before dropping them to study the toes of his dusty riding boots. "Yes, sir," he muttered, hoping that his father would spend his rage quickly and leave, as he had always done. Usually his visits were few and far between, but this time he had appeared without warning, and thus caught Dante returning from the home of his teacher, Shaman Eagle Crest.
Why can't he just go back to New York? Dante thought rebelliously. He hates it here, he only comes here twice a year and I can't wait for him to leave! Let him go back to his Wall Street brokers and fancy women and making money or whatever the hell else he does over there! We sure as hell don't need him or his damn rules!
"You hear me, boy? Either you toe the mark or else!" The glacier eyes glinted with a sudden savage glee. "You think you can get away with defying me, do you? You and that squaw?"
Dante shook his head, suddenly terrified. Sulla was unpredictable and dangerous, a fact that everyone knew, like a lighting strike. Especially when he was crossed. No one crossed Sulla Prince twice.
Sulla lifted his fist, and ambient magic flared about him in a greenish-red light.
Dante knew such an aura was indicative of powerful destructive magic—a magic meant for ill wishing, as his teacher had told him a month ago, showing him how to recognize different types of castings by their auras.
"Don't!" he cried, desperate to protect Blue Sparrow, the only person who had ever really cared about him, the Sioux woman who was always there, who had taken the place of the mother he never knew, and who Dante loved with every fiber of his being. "Don't hurt Sparrow, Dad! She didn't do anything but what I asked her to! I asked her to find me a new tutor after Mr. Bradshaw left . . ."
But Sulla didn't seem to hear Dante's pleas, he was too fixated on wishing to make someone suffer for disobeying him.
"That upstart bitch will pay for her meddling!" his irate father snarled.
"No! Please, if you want to curse someone . . . you can curse me . . ." pleaded Dante. "It was my fault, not Sparrow's . . ."
"I'll do as I see fit, whelp!" Sulla roared.
Dante glared back at him, suddenly furious. "Go to hell, sir!" He knew well what he courted, but better he bore the brunt of Sulla's wrath than Sparrow. Sulla wouldn't kill his only son and heir to his great empire . . . but Blue Sparrow was less than nothing to him and he'd kill her quicker than blinking.
"It would seem you need another lesson in obedience, Dante . . ." Sulla snarled, and his hand flicked forward, and the reddish curse slammed into the ten-year-old, making him howl in agony as his skin burned with sensation of a thousand wasp stings . . .
As he writhed upon the floor, his father stood above him, his patrician face hard and cold, save for the light of satisfaction that burned in the icy depths of his frost-blue eyes.
Pain consumed the child, and he wondered if he had been wrong and he would die after all, another of Sulla's victims . . .
Suddenly another figure entered the memory, tall wearing midnight black and Power haloed him like a cloak—all cool green, blue, and royal purple, the aura of one with the Old Blood, a master of many disciplines. "Enough!"
The word was spoken softly, but it rang with terrible commanding finality—and he made a single movement with his ebony wand and Sulla shrank into dust motes and was banished. Then he waved his wand again and the horrible burning agony ceased.
"Dante," the Dark Protector murmured softly, his voice a silken caress. "No one will hurt you ever again, child." A hand grasped him gently and drew him to his feet. "Come. It's time to wake up. You're safe."
Dante found himself clinging to the tall wizard, his face buried in the other's dark robes, and the fear and pain were slowly fading, like a dream lost upon waking.
He knew two things then. Blue Sparrow was safe, and the Dark Protector would never allow harm to come to him, no matter what.
The dreamscape shuddered as Dante stirred, his consciousness awakening . . .
Professor Snape's quarters
Present Time:
Severus worked with the speed of thought, blocking the awful emotional feedback of the memory, which only a skilled master of Occlumency could do, sending it back to sleep deep within the boy's mind. Then he withdrew from Dante's mind, tucking his wand back up his sleeve just as the boy blinked and woke fully.
The hazel eyes were misty with tears and sleep, but they focused with lightning clarity upon the dark clad sorcerer seated upon the edge of the bed, one slender-fingered hand resting upon his right shoulder. "Huh? Severus?"
"I'm right here, Dante. You were having the devil of a nightmare. More flashback than nightmare. You were performing accidental magic in your sleep." Severus soothed, the hand gently patting the boy's shoulder.
"I was?" Dante yawned, feeling at once chilled and then flushed with embarrassment. God, he must have heard me screaming or something. Just like some whiny baby. He dropped his eyes to the blanket wound about him, one hand clutching it and the other gripping Severus' sleeve. "I . . . I'm okay now." He lied swiftly, knowing better than to show vulnerability to authority figures. Yet something within him was urging him to trust the dark-haired wizard, he knew without knowing how that Snape would not sneer at him for having a nightmare.
But his cousin just looked at him, the obsidian gaze bright with intuition and understanding.
"Are you? I beg to differ," the professor murmured. "No one is ever . . . okay after a flashback. As I know perfectly well."
"How would you know?" the boy mumbled, still staring down at his hands. But no matter how he wished to, he could not make them release their grip upon the blanket or the Potion Master's sleeve. "Like you've ever been anyone's punching bag!"
"Then you'd be wrong," Severus replied, sensing that only by sharing part of his own dark past could he help the child before him. Trust was a fragile thing between him and his young cousin, and only the common thread of understanding would be enough to begin the healing process.
Startled hazel eyes jerked upwards and met his own. "You? No way!"
Severus nodded gravely. "Yes. Me. Over twenty years ago, but I will never forget. Like you, I was a victim of my father's unpredictable nasty temper. Over and over."
Dante's hand tightened upon the other's sleeve convulsively. "Your father cursed you too? And hated you for being a smartass with too many opinions and not enough brains to keep them to yourself?" he quoted something Sulla had often snapped him just before the elder Prince had punished him.
Severus covered Dante's hand with his own. "No, my father Tobias wasn't a wizard. His preferred method of correction was a belt or a switch. And he hated me for having magic and not being what he called a "normal" boy. Tobias wanted a son who liked rugby and other sports, instead he got me, who preferred books and academics, who was a wizard and smarter than him on his best day. He was an alcoholic and drug user also, not that excused his temper, because it didn't. Drunk or sober, he was a nasty piece of work."
"Like my dad," Dante hissed, sensing the other man wasn't lying to him. It was not a trick or a ploy to gain his trust. A shudder ran through him as he recalled Sulla's glacier eyes, always judging and always finding him wanting, never satisfied, until Dante had stopped trying to please the impossible man. "The old man was never happy with me," he cried angrily. "No matter what I did—"
"—It was never enough," Severus finished, knowing the old litany by heart. "But you kept trying because you hoped that one day he would finally be proud of you, but that never happened . . . because the miserable tosser didn't have it in him to be proud of himself, never mind see your real worth."
Dante gasped softly. "You do know. Dad was always bragging about how much he had, and how much he had done to make the Prince reputation and Name stand for something . . . but I never gave a damn about all that, even when he used to beat it into me. All I wanted . . . was for him to say he was proud of me . . . just once . . . but it never happened . . . and now it never will . . ." he trailed off, shutting his eyes against the threatened tears.
Severus sighed, recalling with searing clarity the sting of rejection by Tobias, even after all this time. That had hurt worse than all the whippings. "No . . . and that hurts worse than any curse or beating."
Dante swallowed hard. Then he nodded jerkily, opening his eyes and blinking the hated tears away. "How do you make it stop, Severus?"
"That . . . is not such an easy thing," the other acknowledged. "But first you need to realize that the reason your father never said it was not any fault of yours. Just like it wasn't my fault Tobias never said it to me."
"It wasn't? But maybe if I'd done what he wanted—" Dante began. The tears returned, and then a handkerchief was pressed into his hand. The boy blotted his eyes, erasing the tears swiftly.
"No, child." Snape held up a hand. "Because what he wanted was wrong. He wanted you to be something you never were meant to be. And it was the very last thing you should have been. You may have been his son, but that didn't mean you had to be him. You are your own person, and that should have been enough for him. Would have been, if Sulla was any kind of true parent. Do you understand what I mean?"
Dante was silent for several long moments, mulling over what Severus had said. At last he nodded. "Yeah. He should have been proud of me no matter what." His hand abruptly released the blanket, clenching into a fist atop it. "I'd never have been that way if I had a kid! Never! Rotten impossible bastard! All he cared about was himself, the selfish prick!"
"Mine also," Severus agreed. "Knowing that, eventually I was able to see that I didn't need his approval, because that would mean I had become him, and I would be damned if I let that happen." He put two fingers under Dante's chin and gently tilted his head up. "I hope you will see that also one day."
"I . . . I'm trying, Severus . . .only sometimes . . . I forget . . ."
Severus nodded. He also knew that finding another mentor or surrogate father figure would also help, as Severus had done with Professor Joe Madley from the Academy of Potioneers. But he knew Dante wasn't quite ready to hear that advice yet.
"Who were you trying to protect from Sulla in your dream?" Severus asked then, shifting the focus slightly.
"You know about Sparrow?" Dante cried.
"Only from the way you were shouting at your father not to harm her. Would you like to talk about it?"
Dante bit his lip, considering. "Ahh . . . what the heck . . . might as well since you know something of it anyway . . . Blue Sparrow was my Sioux housekeeper on the Golden Prince. Least that's what Dad hired her for. To keep house, watch me, and cook. Her English name was Marian Stark. But her Oglala name was Blue Sparrow and that's how she preferred to be known among her friends. I was two, almost three when Dad left me with her. He was usually gone all year, he lived mostly in New York, and travelled all over the US and to other countries, buying and selling rare magical items and promoting Prince Enterprises. Least that was what he always used as an excuse why he never visited me except on Christmas or once or twice my birthday. I used to ask why when I was little, but eventually I quit doing that when I realized that when he was home, things weren't good. He was never really glad to see me . . . and it just got worse as I got older. Anyway, Sparrow raised me, she treated me like her son, and I thought of her as the mom I never knew. I never dared tell Dad that though . . . he'd have gone nuts. He thought Sparrow was inferior because she was a Normal and a Sioux woman. In fact that was part of the reason why he took me away from the Golden Prince . . ."
Haltingly, Dante told Snape about the memory which had spawned the flashback, explaining that he had hated the idea of leaving the ranch, which was the only home he had ever known, as well as the only mother he could remember. "But I had no choice. I knew damn well if I made a fuss he'd make sure Sparrow paid for it . . . along with anyone and anything else I cared about . . .what Dad wanted he got, always. One way or another. But Sparrow . . . she understood why . . . she always did. I gave her Flyaway too—that was my Quarter horse mare, I'd raised her from a filly—and she gave her to Mr. Woodheart, who lived on the ranch next to ours, he was half-Oglala, and raised horses, Flyaway would have a good home there and better there than shipped off to some riding academy or the glue factory, like my dad threatened." Giving up Flyaway had hurt almost as bad as saying goodbye to Sparrow, but better that than Dad killed her. Mr. Woodheart used to write me after I first moved to Manhattan, letting me know how Flyaway was doing, but after awhile it was too risky to get letters from him, so I stopped answering them.
As the boy spoke, Severus listened attentively, recalling the way the teen had deliberately provoked him in his office after the flying car incident. Now he understood exactly what had been going through Dante's head then. He had been doing the same thing he had done when Sulla had threatened to hurt Blue Sparrow, sacrificing himself to protect someone he cared about. Of course, he didn't know I would never truly hurt Harry or Ronald, he thought I was like Sulla. Severus thought with reluctant admiration. Merlin help me, but I was no different when Tobias got after Mum. He nearly beat me to death that one time when I got inbetween them when I was nine . . .the only thing that saved me was my magic acting to protect me and throwing him across the kitchen into the wall . . . He quickly Occluded that memory, lest the specter of it cause him to have nightmares as well.
" . . . after the sonuvabitch died—sorry I shouldn't swear but it's the truth—I wanted to throw a party, but I didn't want anyone to know the truth so . . . I acted like I was upset at the funeral and then when the will was read I found out about you and all I could think of was that you were another one like the old tyrant . . .that's why I was such a smartass brat when I first came to live with you and Harry . . .Sparrow would have given me what-for if she had seen how I'd behaved . . ." Dante lowered his gaze to the blanket again, shame heating his cheeks. "I'll try and do better from now on . . . I'm not always a sassy brat."
The Potions Master's mouth twitched into a reluctant smile. "Even if you are, I'm used to dealing with smart mouthed familiars and children, just ask Harry and Skull. I know sharing this was . . . difficult for you, but I want you to know I will never speak about it to anyone. What you said tonight will remain in confidence, Dante."
"Thanks, Severus. I kinda knew that already. Harry told me you were good at keeping secrets, guess that makes sense since you were a spy."
"Harry is right. If you ever need to talk, you can come to me. Day or night, and I will make time to discuss whatever you wish. Or if not me, you might consider Harry too, he also knows about abusive relatives."
"Yeah he told me a bit about the Dursleys while we were flying here," Dante muttered. "Another bunch of assholes!"
"Dante!" Severus rebuked automatically.
"I know, sorry, but people like that make me wanna hex them into next week," the teen sighed.
"I know how you feel, nevertheless do try and find other words to express yourself. I doubt your Blue Sparrow would approve of you swearing like a thug."
"Nope. She'd have made me eat pepper," Dante said ruefully.
Severus raised an eyebrow. "Then best watch your mouth, Mr. Prince."
"Okay, Severus." He frowned down at the way the blanket was all wrapped about him, like a winding sheet. He ran his hand down the offending material and it straightened itself out after a whispered charm.
The Potions Master lofted an eyebrow, but said nothing about him using wandless magic. Instead he remarked, "If I were you, I'd change into other pajamas. Those look damp and it's chilly down here. While you're doing that, I can fetch some Dreamless Sleep for you. Unless you'd prefer tea?"
"Uh . . . tea's okay. Sparrow used to make me chamomile, lavender, and honey tea when I was little and couldn't fall asleep," Dante recalled.
"That sounds very similar to my own Sleepytime blend, as Skull calls it," the professor mused. "I shall be back with some in a few moments. Oh, and don't forget to dry your hair." He indicated the teen's hair, which was damp with sweat.
"Yes, Mom," the boy teased, the awkwardness he had first felt upon awakening to find Snape at his bedside vanished after their impromptu talk.
Severus merely rolled his eyes. "Sassy brat!" he muttered before leaving to put the kettle on.
Dante managed a half-smile at the fond exasperated tone, which reminded him of Sparrow. Then he slipped from his bed to do as Severus had directed, finding it oddly comforting that the professor cared enough about him to be concerned over his welfare. Dante had gotten used to looking after himself mostly since moving to New York, and while he found some of Snape's rules annoying, he didn't mind his cousin showing concern over his wellbeing. It was what he used to wish Sulla would do before he realized that the older Prince was incapable of caring about his son as anything but a body to carry on his Name and inherit his empire. Perhaps now he could have that with his guardian?
He shook his head as he changed into fresh pajamas. It's no good wishing for what you've never had, he reminded himself. And Severus might understand about the old bastard beating and cursing you, but he'd be mad as spit if he knew Dad's old associates made you agree to pay off his debt. He felt his stomach knot at the thought of the masked warlocks, all of whom he knew were as evil as his father. He wished he possessed the guts to confide in the Potions Master, but the mere thought of those dark wizards hurting his cousins made him want to throw up. I can't risk it. Merlin forgive me. This way if anything bad goes down it'll be me who takes the fall. Better that way.
Dante's hand caressed his hawthorn wand, thinking sadly, What did that old man Ollivander say? Hawthorn is both blessing and curse, a wand to heal and protect but it can also destroy if its owner is so inclined. Only the strongest in magic can wield such a wand, but it is the heart that determines where its allegiance lies. The apprentice patted the wand and left it lying upon his nightstand before climbing back into bed and sitting cross-legged upon it, wondering how a piece of wood, magical or not, could tell where his heart lay when he was unsure of it himself. But one thing he did know—he refused to be his father. After this task the Death Eaters, or whatever they called themselves, insisted he perform, he was done with them. Or so he told himself. Then he reflected maybe it was good thing he was forbidden to go to Hogsmeade in October, because he had a feeling that the dark wizards couldn't enter the school and contact him, and if he was right, Hogwarts was the one place he was safe right now.
Severus tapped on the door, and then entered, the tea tray floating before him. It settled on the desk, and Severus levitated a cup of steaming tea to his ward, who took it with a soft thanks. "You can do wandless magic too?" the boy remarked, sipping the slightly sweet brew.
"Yes. It is one of the disciplines I have mastered," Severus replied, seating himself beside the young wizard and drinking his own cup.
Dante eyed him thoughtfully over the rim of his cup. "You know an awful lot more than just potions."
"You sound surprised," Snape said, amused.
"No . . . a raven only chooses the best," Dante said. He sighed as steam wreathed his face. "I wonder how Skull is doing with his fledglings?"
"We'll find out when he returns to me," Severus said. He missed his feathered other self more this time than he usually did, and hoped all was well with the mouthy corvae.
The two drank their tea in a companionable silence, each recognizing a kindred spirit in the other, even if Dante was reluctant to acknowledge it.
The boy finished his tea before Severus, who lingered over his, and the tea worked its own brand of magic. Severus caught Dante nodding off and removed the cup from his hand.
"Go to sleep, Dante," the professor ordered gently.
The boy yawned, drawing the covers about himself. He could feel a sleepy lassitude stealing through him, but a part of him was afraid if he closed his eyes the nightmare would be waiting to pounce. "Severus?"
"What is it?"
"Uh . . . could you . . . wait until I'm asleep before you leave?" he whispered.
"I would have anyhow," Snape replied calmly.
"Thanks," Dante muttered, his eyes closing.
Just before he drifted off, he felt Severus' hand clasp his for a brief instant. He gave a kind of lopsided smile, because now he felt safe since Snape was watching over him, and he surrendered to sleep's siren call.
The professor waited until he was sure the tea, which he had sneakily laced with a few drops of Dreamless Sleep, had taken effect, ensuring the boy a peaceful slumber, before withdrawing his hand.
"Good night, my sassy Prince," Snape whispered, then spun and glided noiselessly from the room, his cloak billowing.
Gryffindor Tower:
Harry dreamed he wandered down a dark road, the night barely illuminated by stars. A part of him recognized the road to Hogwarts, but it seemed to take him ages to reach the castle. He ran but it was if his feet were mired quicksand.
"Come here, pretty boy! Come out, come out, wherever you are!"
A melodic voice called from behind him, all sweet reason and longing.
For instant he thought about waiting until the voice found him, but some instinct warned that would be a very bad idea and so he kept trudging towards the castle.
He glanced back once, and saw the silhouette of the creature chasing him appear over the glistening globe of the full moon.
It had wings like a great bird, a long lashing tail like a dragon, and claws like a great cat on its front paws. Its head resembled an animal with branching horns, similar to a deer, but the open mouth revealed fangs.
"There is no escape, pretty boy! Come here, child! Come out and play!" the voice emerged from the creature's throat, beckoning and urgent, like an old friend.
Only Harry knew this creature was never that, was in fact something that wished him harm.
He waved his wand and suddenly found himself swathed in his Invisibility Cloak. He drew up the hood and vanished, praying that would be enough to hide him.
He was almost to the castle gates when a red and gold winged dragon flew out from a parapet and attacked the winged bird creature. Harry recognized the dragon and cried out in delight, "Viviane!"
The Pendragon roared and flamed the monster, enabling Harry to cross the threshold of the castle gates, where he raced down another corridor to a strange dimly lit cold room. He turned a serpent handled knob and fell down a tunnel into a stone cave with a statue of a huge serpent and saw figures in masks chanting and Dante bound in the middle of a pentacle.
"Run, Harry! Get out!" he screamed.
Harry drew his wand, but one of the masked figures blasted it from his hand.
But before he could kill Harry, Viviane returned and picked him up in her talons and flew away, crying, "Save Har-ry!"
Harry woke with a start, glancing about, but everything was quiet and still. His Housemates still snored and dreamed peacefully. He lit up his wand and peeked from the bed hangings out the window of the tower, and saw the crescent moon riding serenely in the sky. A glance at his watch showed it was only three AM, far too early to be awake.
What a crazy dream, he thought, rubbing his eyes. He considered writing it down in his journal, which was something Ghost had suggested he keep beside his bed to write down odd or vivid dreams. But then he yawned and decided he was too tired to grab his raven quill. I'll do it tomorrow. Maybe Dad can tell me what it means—if it means anything.
He Noxed his wand, slipping it beneath his pillow, then curled up with one hand beneath his head, tumbling back into the realm of slumber between one breath and the next.
When he woke again, the sun was streaming in through his open bed hangings and it was almost time to get dressed. Today was double Charms and Potions, Harry recalled with a slight yawn, and hoped he would do as well in them as he had in Herbology. From reading ahead in his potions text, he knew they would probably be brewing a Fire Protection Potion this morning, which was one he had brewed before, over the summer with Severus, and he was eager to put into practice the techniques he had learned from his father prepping his ingredients.
As he knotted his tie, another thing he had learned from Severus, Harry wondered if the potions professor was going to implement a new policy in his classroom that he had mentioned to Harry while they had brewed Pepper-Up drafts over the summer. If Snape did, it meant new partners for labs for the term, and Harry hoped he could make friends with other students who also enjoyed brewing.
He flicked his wand over his robes, using a Wrinkle Free charm Snape had taught him to keep his clothing neat, then grabbed his book bag and hurried down the stairs towards the Great Hall, his stomach growling in anticipation of breakfast.
On the way there, he was pushed rudely by Craven, who sneered, "Move it, Snapey-baby!"
Harry glared at the older boy. "Stuff it, Craven!"
"Oooh, let's see how brave you are without your little fans or your Prince cousin around," taunted the fourth-year.
Harry rolled his eyes. "Talking about yourself again?" He feinted left, making Craven believe he was going down the stairs that way, then spun neatly and shot past the older boy on the right, leaving Craven gaping after him.
Harry ignored him, then entered the hall, taking his usual seat at the table inbetween the Gryffindors and Slytherins and waiting for his friends to join him.
A/N: Thanks for reading and reviewing. ect! What do you think will happen in potions class?