A/N: Now that I've deleted most of my old work, I think a new story is in order for little old me. I plan to clean up my act, seeing how my writing seems to have improved since last year, when I joined ff.net. Oh well…

Disclaimer: As much as I want everything to be mine, I own nothing. Isn't it a shame? I own a Harry Potter plushy, but that's about it…


Harry woke with a start, his breathing irregular and hard. He found himself propped up in bed, and sweating profusely. He wiped his forehead in panic. He shook his head. That dream…it just kept coming and coming. It was like a lifetime of bad crime re-runs, watching the same person, a person you know without a name to their face, die in your mind, over and over again


He had been having the same dream the minute he came back to the Dursley's. He suspected Mrs. Figg had something to do with it. Whenever he was sent to her house, she acted strangely around him, as if he were as delicate as china.

The Dursleys, however, hadn't changed a bit. Harry was sure they had been informed about what had happened at Harry at school, but they showed no indication that they knew, or cared, for that matter.

He ran his hand through his unruly raven black hair shakily, his breath now slowing into jagged gasps. Harry reached clumsily for his glasses on his nightstand, fumbling over other objects over and around it.

When he found them, and placed them on the bridge of his nose, he felt a lump rise in his throat. Should he turn on the light or not? He shrugged, grabbed his wand from under his pillow, which he had placed there the second he went to sleep every night, and waved it silently, muttering. The light flickered on, and then burst with the amount of power Harry had enforced, and he was engulfed in the blackness again.

"Maybe a bit too much power…" he mumbled nonchalantly.

'Ever since the 'incident', Harry thought wryly, of the Third Task, magic to fourth years and above had been permitted, in order to protect themselves. The Ministry of Magic had had a huge debate over this during the summer, and, by majority rules, many thought it was a good idea. Of course, student's use of magic was monitored as it had always been, and had grown with even more strict guidelines now that it was in the hands of fourteen year olds and above, but there had been no cases of bad handling…yet.

"Not that Fudge agreed…bumbling fool…"

Harry changed a lot over the summer, and he knew it. His friends had become a little tense around him, but cared about him the same. He knew that he had become a bit more cynical, and some feared that he lost his sense of innocence after his facing with Voldemort.

He strode over to the mirror and gazed at how he had physically changed. He still had his scrawny appearance, but it was slowly etching away. He had become paler, yet remained tan, and a little taller. He had thought about contacts, but the thought of plastic or glass flung over his eyes everyday made his shudder. Glasses were just fine. He lightly brushed his fingers over his scar, as he always did, and wondered at it's small, dull throbbing.

'It doesn't matter though,' Harry thought happily, staring at his reflection  'because I'll be going to the Weasley's next week.'

He smiled brightly at the thought. After the Third Task, he had been invited to come any time he wanted, whether Dumbledore approved or not. He had liked this very much, although he acted dispassionately about it.

Ron had grown sick during the middle of the summer, and had resorted to having his little sister write his letters to Harry, and had even stretched to have Ginny know about his confused feeling over Hermione, as she wrote them to Harry. Secretly, she would put little footnotes at the bottom from her, personally, usually joking about Ron's denseness, or something of the sort. Harry and Ginny had grown close over the summer.

'All right,' Harry countered himself skeptically, 'not close close, but closer then we were.'

He nodded, satisfied with his answer, and stared out of the window at the dark night wistfully. She had changed, that was for sure. He shook his head, and changed the direction of his train of thought.

[Harry Potter…]

Harry jumped in surprise and fear. His lucid emerald eyes steeled themselves, the hairs on the back of his neck tensing; his fists clenching themselves until they were white.

He became paranoid.

            "Who's there?" he asked deliberately.

            A ruffle from his bed caused his to spin around in panic, grabbing his wand quickly. The site that beheld his caused him to freeze in happiness, and mild surprise. He sighed with relief.

            "Fawkes?" he asked quietly.

            The bird nodded softly.

            [Hello, Harry.]

            Harry blinked in surprise.

            "You can talk?"

            [No. I'm in your mind, dear boy.]

            Harry frowned.

            "Is that possible?" he asked.

The bird shrugged, ruffling his feathers and landing on the bed.

[I'm surprised you're not surprised. I thought I'd get more of a reaction…]

Harry shrugged this time.

"I've been through a lot, I guess."

Fawkes nodded.

[I bet you have.]

"Why are you here, Fawkes?" Harry inquired, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall stiffly.

[You have been chosen.]

Harry's eyebrows knitted with confusion, and sighed, exasperated.

"That's happening too damn much," he muttered, pushing himself of the wall, "what exactly have I been chosen for this time?"

Fawkes chuckled.

            [The Order of the Phoenix.]

            Harry's mouth twitched.

            "And that would be?"

            [You'll see.]

            "Great. Just great."

            [Close your eyes, Harry.]




Floating…Just floating…


The young woman spun around and grabbed the other woman's robes. The woman's blue eyes burned with naked fear, her face dirty and and the remains of tear stains washed onto her face.

"You have to help us! He's coming!"

The young red head shook her head fiercely.

"There's nothing I can do!" she screamed to the blue-eyed woman in despair, "It has to happen!"

The woman threw herself at the redhead's feet.

Graffiti skies…

After several shades of brilliant green and red flashed through the air, the young red headed woman found herself in the wreckage of the cozy home she had just been in. There, the blue-eyed woman laid, blood seeping slowly from her temple.

The young woman walked over to the bloodied woman, preparing herself mentally for the worse. She laid a hand on the shoulder blade of the figure, and flipped the body to face her.

Only blue eyes stared at her. Glazed in silent death.

Floating…Just floating…


Ginny turned her head half-heartedly to the clock, the pale face and hands empty. It was over. It was finally over. The frightened tears trickling down her face made her mahogany eyes sparkle with a misted magnificence.

The girl's ruby red hair was splayed all over her pillow, a great contrast to her white cheeks and sheets. She rubbed her eyes, which were darting around the room nervously.

"Fawkes," she whispered feebly, "I need you."

A slight red and gold shimmer started to float into her mind, an image of a bird gliding into her mind, hovered over her subconscious figure.

[I'm here, Ginny.]

"I don't want to do this."

[You have to.]

"I'm afraid."

[I know.]

"Don't you care!?"

[Of course, but it must be done.]

Ginny sighed.

"I don't like this order."

She rolled around on her bed, letting her sheets fall off her limply.

[Ginny, the order does not control you dream intake. You were born as the Dream Keeper. That you will be. You are going to help the rest of the order.]

"But I don't even know who else is in the order!"

[I added someone last night.]

Ginny's tired eyes hot open in surprise.

"Who," she asked curiously, "would join?"

Fawkes smiled mischievously.

[You'll find out.]

Ginny shrugged and sat, running her hand through her jumbled ruby hair.

"I guess I will, but to the important thing of the moment. There will be an attack on the Central Gringotts Security Direction Center for the Cairo and Australian branches. They will be conducted at the same time; although the causalities suffered in the Australian branch will be higher then Cairo's."

Fawkes nodded grimly.

[And I'm guessing it will be one of Voldemort's attempts?]

Ginny sighed her consent.

            "Twenty Death Eaters in Cairo, thirty in Australia. That's fifty, Fawkes. Fifty. Do you know how many people innocent and working for Gringotts will be killed next week?"

            The bird braced himself as the redhead began to weep.

"Sixty. Thirty men. Twenty-eight women. Two children. Children! Do you know what it's like to watch children die, Fawkes?"

The phoenix remained silent as Ginny stared up at the ceiling in darkness.

"It's horrible," she continued, "absolutely horrible. They threw the children around like soft balls, and banged their heads against counters and registers, long after the children had died. The Death Eaters brought dogs with them also. You wanna know why? To eat the children! Those monsters fed those innocent children to those dogs!"

Ginny gasped and broke into uncontrollable tears.

[That's terrible…] the bird whispered, shocked.

Ginny shook her head.

"That's not terrible; that's just the beginning. You must relay this to Professor Dumbledore. The attack must be known by him and Fudge." She whispered, closing her eyes.

[Can it be prevented?] Fawkes asked, knowing the answer.

Ginny shook her head, and broke into tears once again.


"Wormtail, come here you worthless creature!"

The squat man limped into the thin slate of light, the only source of brightness in the dim, empty room.

"Yes, master?' he whispered weakly.

"Has it happened?"

The figure nodded, but was cut short by the flood of pain that shot up his spin like a sharp, thin knife.

"I want you to answer me, not nod your pathetic head!"

The figure crumbled to the floor in the dull pain that echoed its scream through his dazed mind.

"Of course, my master."

A cold laugh rang around the room, bouncing of the wall and absorbing any warmth that might have been hovering in the dank air.

"Make sure the boy visits her and the family. I must have my weapon against the great Boy-Who-Will-Die!"

Wormtail gasped his agreement.

"Of course," he said, bowing towards the darkness in front of him, "I will attend to it myself."

Wormtail turned to go, his head hanging low.


The short man spun around once again.

"Yes, Great One?"

Another cold, empty laugh boomed around the room as Wormtail screamed in mortal pain, his very soul shouting as his body folded to the ground.


I swear to all those who read that I will be much more light-hearted later on, the way I usually am for those of my loyal readers. ^^;; Reviews are appreciated! I must have at least five before I continue, please? Thankies!