Category: Harry Potter
Summary: Nightmares are a projection of the subconscious mind.
Notes: Part 1 of the Drabble War with
nuclearfuelThings to Include: Ron Weasley, Rita Skeeter, arithmancy, some form of candy
An army of Arithmancy textbooks charges down a seemingly endless alley, in hot pursuit of a single figure, clad in horrific dress robes (proclaimed by some to be the most hideous articles of clothing known to wizardkind). He tries his best to outrun the charging tomes, but they follow in single-minded tenacity; one catches up to him and gnaws at his cold, white ankles and he cannot shake it off, it’s dangling from his heel as he rocks in violent agitation -
he’s now blindly charging ahead as the streets and alleys meld into a maze of confusion that give way to even more roads. Every path is the wrong one; obstacles spring up in a wall of flames that blaze and mock in merriment. Each word he speaks dies on his lips and he finds that he cannot scream, only squeak insignificantly in the face of roaring thunder.
Then, suddenly.
The world around him spins; he is knocked off-kilter. He falls all too quickly; the colours around him blur into some sort of indescribable mosaic which shudders and trembles as it bleeds into a frenzied amalgamation of stained-glass pieces of his life, twinkling at him from every corner; then, silence before it all falls apart, spilling his inner demons like a shattering jar of Bertie Bott's Every-Flavour beans-
and he is reminded once again of how he is one of seven and one of three, he is thrust into the background; he reaches into his pocket and comes up with only lint and scraps of old parchment as colours flash like strobe lights around him, illuminating his insecurities and bathing him in a haze of doubt before he drops like a stone, into the waiting, hungry darkness.
The last thing he hears before he crashes and hits rock bottom is Rita Skeeter’s maniacal cackle.
***
And then, silence, as he wakes up for the seventy-ninth time that term, his maroon pyjamas soaked in a pool of sweat, his quilt clenched tightly in his cold fingers; he fears he may be suffering from a Muggle phenomena known as the Recurring Nightmare as he gazes over to the prone figure of Harry Potter, and wonders if he dreams of self-doubt.
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