"No, damn, no... I can't do that! You... who are you? Why... why, why, why? Why are you pestering me..."
Late one night, vague murmurs in dreams sounded again from a delicate silver-green single bed. Although it was far from dawn, the room was almost as bright as day.
"... stay away from me... no, don't come near me... what are you..."
The layout of this room can be said to be very orderly.
Although expensive furniture and furnishings can be seen everywhere in the details, if someone comes here for the first time, the first thing that person feels is not that it is expensive, but that everything that should be organized has been organized. Well organized. The books on the bookshelf are arranged in sets, and the collections in the display cabinets are spaced at the same distance from each other. There is no dust in every corner.
"... Don't come here again... No... Don't come here again... "
This is a quite old manor, but the people who live here still carefully treat this ancestral home passed down by their ancestors and adhere to almost strict living habits. This sense of honor derived from the surname makes this family never dare to despise the noble traditions left by their ancestors, even though most wizards have long considered it to be just a bad habit.
"… let me go!"
Suddenly, at the moment when the fire dragon model of the Hungarian Horntail on the desk raised its head and breathed out a ball of flame dragon breath, a loud shout sounded from the bed, and then the person on the bed suddenly sat up. .
This is a rather handsome boy. His short golden hair, which was originally meticulously combed, has been ravaged by pillows like straw in a henhouse. The bangs on his forehead are even sticky with sweat. A few locks. This embarrassing scene would have been intolerable to him if he had seen it in the past.
"Huh...huh..."
He kept breathing heavily, wiping the sweat on his forehead and pushing his messy hair back. This is purely an unconscious behavior, because I have always had this hairstyle when I was a child. Although I no longer like to do it, the habit I developed since childhood has been engraved in my bones.
"… Damn it!"
After calming down his heavy breathing, he clenched his fists with both hands and slammed the mattress beside him, making a muffled "bang" sound.
"My dear, are you having another nightmare? Are you okay?" Along with the sound of footsteps in the corridor, a female voice suddenly came from outside the door, "Can I come in, baby?"
"No, no need...I'm fine, mother!" Hearing this, he immediately replied loudly.
"Is it really okay? Oh -" the voice outside was obviously hesitant to the extreme. It was a feeling of being worried about the child but not wanting to make the child unhappy, "Okay... Mom is always here if you need it. .”
"I see."
I don’t know when it started... Well, maybe it was after my father brought my mother back last time? As soon as he saw his mother coming home, he immediately rushed to her, but in the blink of an eye he fainted on the spot. According to the family's therapist, he was temporarily comatose due to excessive mental fluctuations caused by excitement.
In fact, this was indeed the case on the surface, because it didn't take long for him to wake up on his own.
But since that day, he began to have nightmares. At first, it was just once every once in a while. Although the dreams were surprisingly similar, he didn't care too much.
However, the nightmares soon began to become more frequent, from once every five or six days to almost every night now, and the situation had become serious.
Of course, the therapist must have seen it, and there was more than one. Not to mention the exclusive therapist hired by the family, even the most famous St. Mungo's therapist in the British wizarding world was specially invited to the house for a consultation, but almost nothing was found.
The reason why it is said to be "almost" is because although the expert failed to diagnose the specific problem, the general direction of the cause of the frequent nightmares was basically fixed on the "soul".
Unfortunately, a failure to diagnose is a failure to diagnose, and the problem is not solved.
But the only thing was that he never told anyone from the beginning to the end. This included his parents, as well as all the therapists who had seen him.
In fact, it's not that he can't say it, but that he doesn't know whether to say it or not. Yes, judging from the current situation, this terrible nightmare has even affected his rest. Inadequate sleep makes him more and more tired every day, and his mental state is even worse.
But he just... was really reluctant to let this damn nightmare go away from him. While feeling fear and disgust in his heart, his heart was shaken... because he could clearly feel that there was a force that was constantly breeding, growing, fermenting, and spreading in his body...
It was a temptation mixed with pain that made it difficult for him to let go.
"But... but..." He raised his hand and put it in front of his eyes, looking at the darkness flashing between his fingers, and whispered to himself, "Why do you have to ask me to do those stupid things? Last time Haven't they all been proven? The fact is that even Weasley is not an idiot... You want me to kill McClane? I haven't been scared crazy by that boring nightmare yet!"
If anything, a mass of ink-like black appeared in each of those extremely similar dreams. The mass of black came toward him again and again, and then continued to entangle, tear and gnaw at him. Looking at him... Although there was no pain in the dream, the vivid dream made him tremble every time.
The feeling of being swallowed up by the unknown darkness is so real! terrible!
Even though he had refused to admit that he was not brave enough since he was a child, under his current experiences, the fact that he was not brave enough was undeniable.
"Although I don't know what it is, but since it encourages me time and time again to try to kill McClain, doesn't that indirectly mean that... McClain is most likely its natural enemy?"
He was thinking like this, thinking non-stop. In fact, this idea had been circulating in his mind countless times. Yes, if he is determined to eliminate this nightmare from his life, going to Maka should be the most correct choice.
Even if he guessed wrong, McClain was not "its" natural enemy, but McClain was still strong enough to become the most powerful wizard he could ask for.
But every time I think about this, I...
He raised the palm of his right hand again and controlled the black color to swirl silently between his palms. This complete sense of power and control really made him obsessed.
While he was slightly stunned, the corner of his eye passed over the desk beside the bed, and he accidentally caught a glimpse of the fire dragon model placed on the table that could only move freely in place. He blinked, and a hint of gray appeared on his delicate and pale face, which was the shadow caused by the light when he lowered his head slightly.
After some hesitation, he waved away the black shadow in his palm and stretched his hand towards the fire dragon, which was only the size of a palm. The little guy turned his head and looked at his white palm, then gently flapped the dragon wings and jumped into his hand.
This was a birthday present from his father in the past, a souvenir bought from a dragon farm in Romania. Because this is a purely personal gadget, the quantity is not large, and the delicate and vivid body shows its considerable value.
In his hand, the fire dragon model is still as lively as when he first got it, without changing at all; but the person who gave it to him is still lying on the bed, nursing his injury with a tired face.
It was the time when my father went out to look for my mother's whereabouts, and it seemed that she was somewhere in Germany. When his father finally found his missing mother, he was accidentally injured by her mother who was under the Imperius Curse.
At the moment when my father fell to the ground under the spell, my mother broke free from the shackles of the Imperius Curse and woke up, but the serious injury had already become a reality.
As for who the soul-stealing curse came from, everyone has some idea in their hearts, but they never say it out loud. Needless to say, if it wasn't Voldemort who lived in the house, it must have been the crazy woman Bellatrix who lived with him.
"Father, tell me... what should I do... how should I choose?"
He couldn't say this in front of his father, but instead said it to a model on his bed. It can be seen that his dependence on his father is still as strong as in his childhood, but the growth caused by the disintegration of his family made him unwilling to cause his seriously injured father to worry more.
He knew that he was not a brave person, and the father he had admired since childhood was neither.
After holding the fire dragon model in his hand and playing with it absently for a while, he put it back on the table. The curtains in front of the table were tightly closed, and no light from the outside could penetrate. This made him wonder whether the sky outside had quietly brightened.
Judging from the time displayed on the dial, it will probably take two or three hours before dawn, right
"ah-"
He let himself fall heavily on the bed again. In the never-ending struggle, the exhaustion of lack of sleep once again pulled him into a hazy dreamland. As for whether he would still fall into the nightmare like before, he no longer had the energy to worry because his mental fatigue had reached its limit.
Of course, the horrific dream will continue and stay with him until his final choice is finalized.
On the bedside table next to the pillow, a Potions notebook with a green background and silver edges was sitting there. A small signature - Draco Malfoy - was written in silver ink on the bottom of the cover.