Contort

AN EERIE SHADOW spilled across the golden, marbled flooring as the Hall doors cautiously opened. The man trudged to the rhythm of his grunts and the clicking of his combat boots against the pristine floor. His thumb flicked the sharply folded corner of the parchment in his hands, all the while his skin began to tingle. Out of habit, Professor "Mad-Eye" Moody's tongue jolted out of his mouth and tasted the left corner of his drying, thin lips. A foul odor seeped out of his parted mouth, the result of poor dental hygiene and too much liquor.

His footsteps lead him to a figure in the center of the Great Hall. Its statue like frame radiated a cobalt hue as a swirling mist acted as a waterfall, spilling over the sides and melting to a heap of nothing as it met its demise on the cold earth. The Goblet of Fire.

Alastor didn't consider peering over his shoulder, no one would be watching. He'd just quickly slip the tournament entry into the goblet and walk away victorious. Slowly opening the parchment in his hands his lips uttered the words, Harry Potter, before dropping it in the open gullet.

The sky's appearance of predawn shyly peeked over the edge of the horizon. Students would be awakening soon for their first day of class. Barty Crouch, who was disguised as Alastor Moody, scratched his right hip roughly before heavily limping his way toward the exit.

WALKING TOOK EVERY ounce of strength he had. Like an uphill jog, except Ron wasn't running against the incline of slope. He was dreaming.

He stood in front of three towering stone pillars. The wind brutally wiped at his cheeks and forcefully pressed against his body. His eyes watered at the immense pressure. Ron attempted to lift his legs, desiring to move, but the joints in his knees were clamped shut. Fear swallowed him as the moon, which perched high in the sky, went dark, masked by a train of clouds. The shrill of a scream pounded in his eardrums and Ron lifted his hands to the sides of his head, trying to mute the noise. The beat of his heart quickened as the volume ascended. Ronald fitfully turned his neck left and right, searching for the source. Suddenly, his widened eyes landed on a tall, hooded figure. Ron would have missed the man due to his effective way of morphing into the night. It was the man's milky white arm that was extended in front of him that caught Ron's attention and what the cloaked entity was gripping. Harry Potter.

Harry's legs slashed in uncoordinated directions while he gasped for air. The one who was holding him off the ground tightened the death grip, his long fingernails piercing the boy's flesh. Ron's chest clenched at the horrific sight. He wanted to scream, he wanted to beat that man that was straggling his best friend. But he couldn't move. Then, the hooded creature oddly bent his head, now looking in the direction of the immobilized Ronald Weasley. Ron shuttered when Harry's legs ceased movement and his arms that were once fighting to save his life went limp.

"Thank you for bringing him to me, Ronald Weasley," Voldemort's strong voice broke through the crying wind.

Hot tears began to fall down Ron's cheeks as Voldemort released his best friend, watching him land on the ground. Lifeless. Dead.

"Thank you for killing him."

"No," Ron's voice broke, he violently shook his head, "No!"

"Yes, Ron," Voldemort looked down at the body. His voice was tranquil. "You did this."

"You killed him," Ron began to scream, "You devil!"

The tightness in Ron's legs loosened and his was able to move. He ran toward the murderer. Full speed.

But the dark wizard was faster. Voldemort stood, wand extended, his hooded eyelids matched the malice of his smile. "Avada Kedavra!"

"No!" Ron yelled, not realizing he had awoken. He chest rose and fell rapidly.

"Ron?" Seamus Finnigin rubbed his dreary eyes as he leaned over and clicked his bed side lamp on.

Ron's eyes quickly darted over to Harry Potter's undisturbed and slumbering body. He watched the covers rise and fall with Harry's breathing. Alive.

"Go back to bed, Seamus," Ron sat up, relieved and pulled the thin sheet off his sweating body. "It was just a nightmare."

Seamus sleepily nodded, half conscious and turned the lamp off, then snuggled back into his pillow.

Ron grabbed a discarded sweat shirt, which lie on the floor beside his bed, covering his bare chest. He quietly exited the dormitory and strode into the common room. With his right hand, he stroked the red hair that had fallen across his eyes then let out a slow exhale. He walked over to the window to his left, leisurely stretching his stiff arms and thinking of about the nightmare. That was all it was, Ronald kept assuring himself, a nightmare.

It would be morning in less than an hour, Ron decided to change into his dress robes and walk around the castle. Maybe a change of scenery would clear his head. As he strolled aimlessly about the corridors of Hogwarts, Ron knew two things, three things that he was most certain of. The terror of his nightmare only grew and became more of a reality then a scene created by his subconscious the longer he tried to erase it from his mind. He was dreadfully hungry and lastly that Karas Haylett was watching him.