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Entry tags:	fanfiction, harry potter

Welcome to my Nightmare

Title: Not Quite Marty-Stu (Chapter 7: Welcome to my Nightmare)
author: Bill Hartwell
rating: teens
fandom: Harry Potter
characters/pairings: Harry/Ginny, Bill & Fleur Weasley
disclaimer: If you recognize it, and it’s not from Knights in Tarnished Armor, it’s not mine.
author’s note: Don't you just hate dreams?
word count: 3956

"What are you doing?" Ginny demanded.

Fred looked up from his Zaurus, where he was scratching away on the screen with a stylus. "Who? Me?"

"No," Ginny snarked. "Your invisible friend. Of course, you!"

"Oh." Fred shrugged. "Working on a story."

"How can you sit there so calmly working on that?"

"Got nothing better to do," Fred shrugged and looked back at his screen. "Until Chris gets through to whoever she's trying to contact, I'm stuck here, so I might as well. Otherwise, I'll go nuts from boredom."

"You'll go nuts?" Ginny grinned. "What's this go you're talking about?"

"Pbbbbbt!"

"Are you sure he does not have red hair?" Fleur asked, laughing as she leaned against Bill. "So what is it you are writing?"

"A story in which Laputa gets a somewhat bizarre group of new residents." Fred scrolled back up his screen to read what he'd written, then back down to add a little more. "They call themselves the Dolcett Society. Not exactly the kind of people most would want for neighbors, but very picky about their membership. I'm writing about what might happen if they got someone among them who behaves the way outsiders would assume they all behave."

"What does this mean?" Fleur asked.

"Ever hear of the Histoire d' O?"

"Who has not?" Fleur answered, blushing. "It is...disturbing, but in a thrilling way."

"Indeed." Fred sat back, closed his eyes, and sighed heavily. "The Dolcett Society is much like the society in that story, but more extreme. The Masters literally hold the power of life and death over their slaves, yet the slaves willingly choose to give them that power. Of course, those outside their society believe that the Masters are nothing but vile rapists, and the slaves are their victims."

"So, your story...?"

"Explores what might happen if a true rapist were to insinuate himself into the group, without being found until he attempted to enslave a woman who can not be enslaved."

"That sounds as disturbing to write as it would be to read."

"It is." Fred took off his glasses, rubbed his eyes, and sat up again. "But it's no more disturbing than some of the other stories I've written about the world after the Bicentennial Dragon."

"So why do you write them?" Harry asked, leaning forward curiously.

"I have to." Fred shrugged, then tapped his head with a fingertip. "The stories are up here. If I don't put them down, they keep bouncing around my head. Besides, the stories are kind of a warning of what horrors can happen when government gets out of control. If even one of them were to be published, I'd feel as if I'd succeeded in getting that warning out for people to see."

"What do you mean by 'the Bicentennial Dragon'?" Ginny asked.

"My stories are set in an alternate world," Fred said. "One in which magic is based on a natural energy, like gravity or radio, that rises and falls in a ten thousand year cycle. In 1976, the ambient magical energy level reached the tipping point, and magic began to manifest in the world for the first time in two thousand years. Most people in the world refer to it as the Bicentennial Dragon, because their first clue that magic had returned to the world was when a dragon that had been hibernating in the swamp Washington D.C. was built on woke up during the American Bicentennial celebration and destroyed most of the city before it was killed. It was, to Americans in that world, like the destruction of the World Trade Center was to Americans in our world. And they responded in much the same way - by giving the government extraordinary powers to combat the supernatural threat. Most of my stories are set twenty years later, when the government has become so powerful that it can safely get away with slaughtering entire families on live television, and not even be questioned when it claims that its victims were inhuman, or sorcerers. Laputa is a utopian state created by a mad scientist, which has only one law: you may not do to anything to anyone else without their uncoerced consent."

"It sounds like a depressing world," Fleur said.

"It is. But at the same time, it's filled with hope, mostly because of Laputa. I mostly concentrate on Laputa, because it's a much more pleasant place, but every so often a story demands to be written that's set in America, or that focuses on the war between America and Laputa, and those aren't nearly so fun."

"I'll bet," Harry said. "War is never fun."

Ginny squeezed Harry's hand and leaned against him. Harry slipped an arm around Ginny and hugged her tightly.

The fire flared green and Chris stepped out, grumbling. "About damned time. And I thought the TSA was bad! Those aurors have just enough intelligence to be dangerous, but not enough to know when they're outclassed."

"Sounds typical," Fred commented, looking up from his work. "So what did you hammer out with them?"

"The Mundane police managed to identify what was left of the bombers," Chris said, "and identified the explosive residues on their bodies and possessions. They had no choice but to admit you weren't responsible. They're still not happy about it, and I'm sure they'll be watching you every minute you're in Egypt, but they were forced to admit you hadn't committed a crime."

"Well, that's a start. Now I just have to worry about the English aurors."

"Not so much." Chris grinned maliciously. "They were exceptionally unhappy about the evidence I showed them that proved the English had lied to them about your actions in London. A statement by an auror, given under Wizard's Oath, was the clincher there. It seems you have a friend among the English aurors who's unhappy enough about what they did that she's considering resigning from the Ministry."

"Not surprising," Fred said. "She was there, battling the masked bastards with the rest of us."

"Tonks hasn't been happy with the Ministry for a long time," Harry said. "If not for her dedication, she would have resigned years ago. So what about details? Did they give you any lists of requirements or restrictions?"

"That would have been too straightforward," Chris said. "Basically, Fred's choice is to head back to America or realize that if he stays here, he's going to have aurors dogging his every footstep."

"I assumed I'd have police doing that anyway," Fred shrugged. "Given America's reputation in the rest of the world, and the reports I've read from other people who travel in this area, I assumed when I made my travel plans that I'd be putting up with either government officials demanding 'upper paperwork' every time I turned around or having to pay attention to where I was to avoid fundies who'd like nothing better than to make an example of a minion of the Great Satan."

"Upper paperwork," Chris snorted. "An interesting term."

"That's what they called bribery in Turkey when I was stationed there," Fred said. "Don't know if it's the current term, but it's the one I remember. I didn't expect to have to bribe American officials, though."

"You shouldn't have had to, either. But I'm going to enjoy watching him suffer because of it."

"So, is it safe to go back to the hotel?" Ginny asked.

"It should be," Chris said, "but I'm willing to bet they didn't repair any of the damage they did."

"They never do," Fred grumbled. "Still, the sooner we get back there, the sooner we can clean it up ourselves. I just hope they didn't break anything while they were trashing the place."

"So do I," Ginny teased. "Your snoring sounds like an angry dragon."

"Hmm...," Fred mused, grinning. "I wonder how that compares to a chainsaw."

"A chainsaw's not as noisy," Chris laughed.

"Good thing Hermione fixed my CPAP, then." Fred saved his file, pocketed his Zaurus, and stood. "Well, then, I guess we'd better get going. Thanks for your help, Chris. Between you and Mr. Evans, I'd say you've saved my life. Twice."

"Just doing our job," Chris said. "Now, why don't you go on with your vacation, and try not to get in trouble again?"

"As long as I don't run into any more thugs, that shouldn't be a problem. I hope."

A quick trip through the floo and a cup of coffee later, Fred sat back on the suite's sitting room sofa with a groan.

"Gods, what a mess. I'm sorry you guys got caught up in this."

"Don't you dare apologize!" Ginny growled. "None of this was your fault. Harry, could you whip something up for us?"

"Sure," Harry said, walking into the kitchen. "At least they didn't tear apart the pantry."

"I'm going to want to go back to the cafe tomorrow," Fred said, "just in case Lada answered my email. And we still haven't managed to get to that potions master Harry mentioned."

"How many doses do you have left?" Ginny asked.

"Enough for about a week. The sooner I get the samples to that potions master, the less I'll worry about running out."

"Anyone have a problem with curry?" Harry called from the kitchen. "It looks like that's about all we have the ingredients for."

"No problem here, as long as it's hot enough," Fred answered.

"That'll do just fine," Ginny said.

"So, Harry's the cook in your family?" Fred smiled as he asked. "Sounds like my family. I enjoy cooking, when I have the energy for it. Otherwise, it's just something I have to do so we can eat."

"Oh, we both cook," Ginny said. "At least, we do when we can get Dobby to let us in the kitchen."

"Dobby? Sounds like a horse's name."

"Actually, he's a house elf. He's been with Harry ever since he was twelve. He moved into Hogwarts just to be near Harry, after Harry tricked his former master into freeing him." Ginny laughed. "That was a great trick, and I don't think Malfoy ever forgave him for it, until his dying day."

"House elf, huh?" Fred said. "I take it that house elves aren't anything like Tolkien elves?"

"What's a Tolkien elf?"

"Imagine someone as supernaturally beautiful as a veela, immortal, more magically talented than a wizard, and with a deep, mystical tie to the natural world. That's a Tolkien elf."

"Nope. Definitely nothing like that. House elves are about three feet tall and homely looking at best, but they do have their own kind of magic. Most wealthy wizards and wizarding organizations have house elves as servants, to do the cooking, cleaning, and household maintenance. Beyond that, we don't really know much about them."

"Huh. So they're more like shoemaker's elves or brownies, then?"

"I don't know." Ginny scratched her head. "I've never heard of either of those."

"Shoemaker's elves are called that because of a fairy tale - The Elves and the Shoemaker - and brownies are also known as kobolds or goblins." Fred laughed. "Of course, they're nothing like the goblins who run Gringott's. Either way, they're British fairies who watch over a house and the family that lives in it, protecting it and helping them to do all the little things that keep a household running. The tales all say that if you're good to the brownie, it will make your house prosperous, but if you give the brownie a gift of clothing, it will leave and find another family to watch over."

"That's interesting," Ginny said, "because the one way to free a house elf is to give it clothing. That's how Harry was able to free Dobby from Malfoy - by tricking him into giving Dobby a sock."

"A sock, huh? So it doesn't even have to be a lot of clothes? Any item will do?"

"That's right." Ginny laughed. "Hermione spent months knitting hats while we were in school and left them laying around the Gryffindor common room in hopes that the house elves would take them and be free. Poor Dobby was the only one who'd come in because all the other house elves were afraid they'd have to take the hats."

"They didn't want to be free?"

"No. Hermione doesn't understand that. She still thinks of them as slaves."

"Damn. Mundane even for a mundane, huh? You'd think she'd have at least read fairy tales as a kid." Fred caught the odor of the curry and felt his stomach beginning to churn. "Oh, frak. I need to go lay down. Sorry. Migraine's still kicking my ass."

"Are you sure?" Ginny gave him a worried look as he staggered into his bedroom and closed the door. "OK...I guess you are."

# # # # # # #

"FRAK! Frakking son of a frakking bitch!"

Harry woke to the sounds of Fred cursing. He stumbled into the sitting room, wishing he could sleep through it the way Ginny did. He found Fred sitting in the dining area, typing on a roll-up keyboard attached to his Zaurus.

"What's up?" Harry asked as he slid into a seat across from Fred. "I heard you all the way from my bedroom."

"Dream," Fred muttered. "Gotta get it down before I forget, and it's slipping away from me as I type."

"Why don't you describe it?" Harry asked. "Sometimes telling someone else helps it stay with you longer. At least, that's the way it works for me."

"Are you sure?" Fred asked. "It's kind of weird. What I call a FITH dream."

"FITH? What's that?"

"Fucked in the head," Fred said, smiling apologetically. "I hate them, because they always mean something. And I never know what they mean until after it happens. My mother gets them all the time, but she insists on taking them literally, which never works. Lada has them sometimes, and can usually interpret them for me, but even she doesn't get the meaning until after it happens, at least half the time."

"I...see," Harry said, a sinking feeling in his stomach. If Fred had dreams like that, and was so used to them he complained about them, it meant he had probably inherited some of his great-grandmother's talent as a seer. Seers were far from Harry's favorite kind of wizard. They had always messed up his life with their visions and prophecies.

"You know what I mean. I can tell." Fred sighed. "Sucks, huh?"

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "So, want to tell me about it?"

"Well," Fred said, sitting back and leaving his Zaurus untouched, "I dreamed I was you. I was 12 or 13, but only in my second year of school? Does that make sense to you?"

"Yeah," Harry said. "We started at Hogwarts when we were eleven."

"OK." Fred took a deep breath and went on. "Ron was there, too. We were both spending the night in the apartment of this old wizard, along with all the boy prefects. What's a prefect, anyway?"

"Each of the upper years had a boy and a girl chosen, from each House, to represent it to the teachers and staff, and to keep track of the others from their house, in case of emergencies, rule violations, or whatever. What about the old wizard?"

"He had silvery hair, long enough to sit on, and a silvery beard that hung down to his thighs. He wore half-moon eyeglasses and had a nose that looked as if it had been broken a couple times. His eyes were blue, and when I first saw him, they sparkled, as if he thought spending the night with a bunch of teenage boys were the greatest treat in the world. He handed out hot cocoa and some kind of lemon candies to everyone. I think they were lemon sherbets, but I'm not sure."

"Dumbledore?" Harry asked. "I wonder why you saw him. He was the Headmaster at Hogwarts when I was there. He was..." Harry trailed off, not quite sure what to say. Hero? Mentor? There was so much about him that Harry still didn't understand, but he couldn't help feeling good whenever he thought of him, even if his later memories weren't so happy.

"Yeah." Fred nodded, seeing the look on Harry's face. "There was an old witch there, too. She was Scottish, no doubt about that. She wore square glasses and emerald green robes. I got the feeling she was also a cat, but don't know why. She seemed as if she disapproved of what the old wizard was doing, but didn't say anything about it."

"Professor McGonagall," Harry said. "She's the Headmistress now."

"OK, so far, it's not so weird," Fred said. "But then it got really weird. I looked out the window and saw a couple UFOs off in the distance. I remember telling Ron that I'd always been afraid to look at the night sky before learning I was a wizard, but that I loved it now. Ron said the UFOs seemed to be flashing some kind of message. I looked at them, but couldn't figure out what they were trying to say.

"Then I got distracted by a baby crying. I looked, and it was crawling across the blankets of the bed I was on, and crawled over to this woman I hadn't seen before. She looked like she was starved and beaten, and was almost dead. She had blue blotches on her face, like bruises that hadn't started to heal yet. She was holding a dead baby, that looked just like the one that was crying. There was another dead baby sitting beside her, that looked kind of like the others, except it had scales on its skin, like it was half human and half snake. There was a fourth one, too. It looked just like the other babies, but it was sitting there beside the woman, with a smug smile on its face. The really weird thing about them was that all four looked exactly alike, except for the scales on the one."

"Four...," Harry's face went white. "What else did you see?"

"Are you sure?" Fred asked, reaching out to put a hand on Harry's. "There's more."

"I have to know," Harry said. "Don't stop now."

"The ceiling was covered with writing," Fred said. "It glowed, like it was glass, with some kind of light behind it, and the writing was gold. I was looking up at it, trying to decipher it, when the old wizard noticed and turned a crank on the wall. The crank turned some kind of brushes behind the glass, like he was trying to scrub the writing away.

"Then it was the next day, and we were all assigned to escort new first year students into the school. There was this big man there, he looked like he was half giant, and he looked as if he'd been betrayed, like his heart was breaking because we were escorting the kids instead of him. I felt really bad for him, but I'd been given a group of four kids to take into the school, and a route I was supposed to take them that showed off some of the special things at the school. There were people all over the place, trying to sell things to the students as we escorted them in. I got waylaid by this girl, she looked like she was maybe 15 or 16, was kind of dumpy, her face was covered with pimples, and she had really thick glasses. She stuck a lollipop in my mouth, something she called a Roaring Grape Pop. It was really sour, and when I tried to speak, all I could do was roar like a lion. That lasted a few minutes, and the girls all thought it was funny, so I didn't mind so much. When I got my voice back, I told the girl her sales technique needed work. I wasn't sure, but it sounded like she said it wasn't the only thing she needed to work on."

"That sounds like Myrtle," Harry said. "She's a ghost at Hogwarts. We call her Moaning Myrtle. So, what happened next?"

"I led the girls in through an area of this big castle that had been covered with snow, so it looked like it was the winter holidays. We went outside, over a really big snow bank, and three of the girls tried to wade through in my footprints. The fourth girl was really excited and happy and body-surfed down the snowbank. I remember her name was Daphne, and when I tried to tell her to be careful, she just laughed and said she was having fun.

"I led the girls through a doorway into a hallway, and there were displays that had been put together by upper-year students. I remember one that had a note attached that said it was a sock nixie, and that the seventh year boys were responsible for updating it. It looked neat, like a diorama of a lake with this sock puppet thing swimming across the top of it. That's when I woke up."

"I remember Daphne," Harry said. "She was in first year when I was in seventh year. She was brave, even for a Gryffindor."

"Gryffindor?"

"The House I was in at Hogwarts. The school was divided into four Houses. Gryffindor was the House for the brave. Ravenclaw was the House for the geniuses. Slytherin was the House for the ambitious, and Hufflepuff was the house for the loyal. Most of Voldemort's followers were Slytherins."

"That doesn't make sense," Fred said. "Why would a group that was selected for ambition follow an evil overlord? I'd expect them to try to depose him and take their own place at the top."

"He sold them on a line of pureblood supremacy," Harry said, shaking his head. "He was half-blood himself, but he managed to convince them that by following him, they'd be able to eliminate the muggle contamination and restore the glory days of pure wizard society."

"Sounds like another evil overlord from the twentieth century," Fred said. "Just substitute Jews for muggles and you'd have the other one."

"I know." Harry put his head in his hands and groaned. "I hate dreams like that. Would you be willing to talk with a friend of mine? There's a risk involved, but I think I can arrange things so you're safe."

"Safe?" Fred laughed sourly. "Like anything is safe? So what do we need to do?"

"Go to Hogwarts," Harry said. "The divination teacher there is a centaur, and he knows more about interpreting visions than anyone I know of."

"So all we have to do is avoid the aurors, get to Hogwarts, and find your teacher?" Fred asked, smiling. "Sounds like a plan. When do we go?"

"Just like that, huh?" Harry laughed. "You would have made a great Gryffindor."

"Nah," Fred said. "I'm more the kind of guy who tinkers with stuff. But I've got nothing to lose, you know? Might as well dive in head-first as get nibbled to death from the ankles up."

"Harry?" Ginny's voice called from the bedroom. A moment later, she stumbled into the light, her hair mussed and her eyes bleary from sleep. "What are you doing?"

"Talking with Fred about visiting Firenze." Harry rose and embraced Ginny, then led her to a seat. "He had a Vision."

"A Vision?" Ginny asked, her eyes opening wide as she was shocked awake. "What kind?"

"Tommy," Harry hissed softly. "I'm afraid we have a problem."

"Tommy?" Ginny paled. "I thought we were done with him."

"So did I," Harry said. "But...."

"Tommy?" Fred asked. "Tommy who? Oh. Wait. You mean that Tom?"

"I do," Harry said. "But Firenze can tell us more."