Fire & Ice: War Games

‘Dreams are postcard from subconscious, inner self to outer self, right brain trying to cross that moat to the left. Too often they come back unread: “return to sender, adressee unknown” that’s a shame because it’s a whole other world out there – or in here depending on your point of view.’
Dennis Koenig and Jordan Budde, Northern Exposure, Roots, 1991


The wind rustled through the trees before winding its way across the open meadow on its quest for the open sea. Sea gulls fluttered on the warm breeze, hovering just above the crashing waves as they threw themselves on the jagged rocks. The serenity of the Irish Sea washed over as the sun ignited thousands of diamonds on the water’s surface. She felt at peace, wrapped in her native Scotland and far from the worries of the school, the threat of war impending. Her gaze swept over the lush green landscape rolling towards the horizon.

Thunder rumbled above the blue sky, marring the perfection her eyes beheld. A shadowy darkness blocked the sun and covered the earth below with unnatural darkness. She watched as strays of light cut through the darkness, giving shape to the shadow. It was all she could do, but watch as the shadowy blob descended to the earth. She blinked, staring at the sudden change of the world around her. ‘When did it become night?’

A lone figure stood with his back towards her, shoulder length black hair swayed gently across the naked flesh as the figure slipped to his knees.She cautiously circled around the statuesque figure, her eyes rakedr thr the features of his face. A hooked nose was prominently assigned between two aristocratic high cheek bones on pale flesh. Beetle-black eyes stared into the abyss, unseeing.

She shrank away from the apparition in numb horror. She watched as the figure lifted a smooth, angelic sword into the empty air before plunging the blade into his abdomen and twisting. She gasped, recoiling as blood spurted from the wound and splattered on the grass. She was numbly aware of her body jerking backwards, retreating from the scene.

The apparition swayed before collapsing on to his back, his hair forming a black halo about his head. She choked back the bile rising in her throat as his intestines spilled onto the ground, sliding down his blood soaked trousers and resting against his hip. A stray strand of greasy hair clung on his sweat ridden skin, covering his thin lips. Lifeless eyes stared up from the limp, motionless form.

She blinked, rubbing her eyes in disbelief, refusing to acknowledge what her eyes told her. Two leathery wings adorned the lean frame looming above the first apparition. Pale, sallow skin was tautly pulled across the featureless face of the creature. Hollow eye sockets meet her eyes, in quiet study, long boney fingers hung from the soiled robe draped over the sunken, meatless frame of the creature’s body. The smell of rotten flesh baked in under the desert sun assaulted her senses as the night’s breeze swept by them.


Unconsciously, a hand coveted her mouth as the creature tilted its head. Its features blurring, softening as it melted into an all too familiar face. A hoarse cry vibrated into the still of the night as lightening struck across the heavens. The creature’s face was suddenly illuminated, shredding all doubt from her mind. As the light faded, so did the last of her courage. She ran.

Stumbling on a loose rock, she watched in horror as the earth rushed towards her with open jaws. Her arms flailed aimlessly, her hands clawing at the air as she was swallowed by the darkness. Her panicked screams were muffled by the soft, hard earth as it closed around her, suffocating her by its weight.




Her body jerked upright in the stillness of the dim world, her hands crying for release as her clenched fingers tore at the sheets. Beads of sweat coated her body in a slick gel, gluing her bed clothes to her trembling body. The silence of her bed chamber was filled with the rapid, heavy gasps of labored breathing and the pounding of her own heart. A soft, whimpered cry slipped unnoticed from her parched lips as unseeing eyes stared into the nothingness.

The nightmare had seemed so real, felt and tasted real to her senses. Reason and logic railed against the haunting images, but her heart whined in terror. Settling back beneath the wet covers, she willed herself back to sleep. A slide-show of images danced behind her closed eyelids, the dream refused her peace. She lay there wai for for morning to herald in a new day. Minerva McGonagall waited for the morning, knowing that sleep would not return to her.




A/N
Please R & R, author thanks you.

I appreciate the reviews that I’ve earned sr, Ir, I really do. While I enjoy writing in its self, I do so much enjoy it more when others do.

For those of you who have already read “Reaper,” you’ll have a better rstarstanding of Professor McGonagall’s dream. Sorry the chapter’s so short, the next one will be longer and we will see Lupin there as well. Promise.

When this plot bunny first came into my mind, I wanted to explore life at Hogwarts before Harry Potter. To see a world within the world as to say, one that wasn’t black and white. I didn’t want to write the incident in the Shrieking Shack with Sirius tricking Snape in there, as so many people have already speculated on it, I felt that that scene was overly written about. Thus I am more content to deal with the aftermath and the characters living with the consequences of actions taken years before was a better story line.

Also don’t expect to seeing any of Harry’s friends/classmates anytime soon as Snape still needs to complete his seventh year at Hogwarts. I am running on the assumption that Harry was conceived AFTER his parents graduated.

Jess: I’m glad you like the quotes. If you’ve notice they will hint to the mood of each chapter.

Mother: Hopefully part of your curiosity will be filled with the next chapter.