von Linda Black
Sirius slowly opened his eyes. His head felt as if it could explode any second. He wanted to turn around but found he couldn’t. His hands were tied up so hard that every movement made his muscles scream of pain. A person knelt down beside him. The black, greasy hair could not be mistaken. It was Severus Snape. He grinned down at him as he lay there, his head pounding and his hands already bleeding of the string that held them together. “Well, well, who have we got here”, Snape sneered. “What do you want?” Sirius managed to ask. Snape pretended he couldn’t here him. He took out his wand and said “Crucio”. Sirius screamed. He had never felt this type of pain before. He screamed but Snape didn’t stop.
Far away, Harry Potter woke up, screaming.
Harry Potter, a small, thin boy with black hair and a scar shaped like a lightning on his forehead, sat up straight in his bed in his room in Privet Drive 4. He had just had a dream of his godfather Sirius. It was as real as the vision he had had of the attack of Mr. Weasley, his best friend’s father. After this vision he had alarmed Dumbledore, the headmaster of Hogwarts, the school for witchcraft and wizardry. Thanks to this vision, Mr. Weasley had survived. But this dream couldn’t have been a vision. Sirius had died a year ago, when he- no, he didn’t want to think of Sirius now. He was sure he had just had this dream because he had thought of Sirius this evening. He tried to calm down and finally fell asleep again.
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