The Headmaster's Only Mistake

The Return to Hogwarts

"I'm just thinking." Harry murmured, leaning downwards and laying his head on her lap. Pansy ran a hand through his hair and hummed. "What about you?"

"Tracy and Terry were joking too loudly."

Harry chuckled softly.

"You look tired, Hazza, go to sleep, yeah? I'll wake you up when we get there."

Harry nodded and adjusted himself, getting comfortable, before letting his drooping eyes close.

···

Harry dreamed that he was in the graveyard again. This time, things were more detailed.

He could see individual shapes of the Death Eaters, not just a large mass of ivory and obsidian. The wisps of magic floating around Mortem and him seemed more defined, like brushstrokes, and beside them Vita and Tempus were also chanting.

The words still seemed like muffled singing to Harry, so he couldn't make out what they were doing, but their mouth's were clearer and Harry could see the shapes in which they were moving.

The engravings on the tombstone were clear and Harry shivered.

He watched on for what felt for hours as his and the gods' wisps of magic spilled from their mouths and swirled together, forming a glowing ball of every color and none at all. Finally, Dream Harry stood up and took hold of the ball, leading it to the simmering cauldron. The fog grew thicker and thicker, the humidity making Harry uncomfortable and stuffy while also making his feel as if he was swimming in a large tub of syrup.

Just as he was going to place the ball into it, the whole scene faded, leaving Dream Harry alone with the glowing ball.

Harry watched in horror as his figure grew and paled and his hair receded. He tried to look away as the glowing ball shrunk and turned rough.

In front of him no longer stood a fourteen year old version of himself. Instead, Quirinus Quirrell was looking triumphantly at the Philosopher's Stone that he held tightly in his grasp.

"No..." Harry muttered. "That's not how I planned it... That's not how it's supposed to go..."

He was mid-lunge at Quirrell when the man dissipated into smoke. Harry's fingers curled around nothing and he felt like he was falling.

···

Harry sat up with a gasp, heart beating loudly and breaths coming up short.

"All right there, Harry?" he heard Hannah ask.

"Yeah, don't worry. Just a bad dream."

Harry stood up and pressed a hand against the cold foggy window before pressing it to his forehead and the back of his neck. The coolness instantly woke him up and soothed his cramped neck muscles.

"We're almost at Hogwarts." Terry informed him. "You should go change."

Harry nodded and, pulling his robes out of his trunk before heading to the bathroom.

"Oi, Potter!" Harry rolled his eyes and turned around.

"Yes, Weasley?"

"Heard you had a nightmare, did Potty get scared and run to his mummy? Oh wait, you don't have one!"

Harry just raised an eyebrow. "Honestly, your obsession is getting out of hand. The fact that you were stalking me, eavesdropping, and that you probably stood outside my compartment for who knows how long just to taunt me is pathetic. And, you've been using the "Dead Mum" card for seven years now, find something that actually makes me mad, or maybe just stop trying to embarrass yourself."