Bloody Nightmare

Harry was having a really bad nightmare. He remembered that mom and others had come to visit him and shortly after that he fainted after coughing up blood. He remembered that his vision was a blur even before he fainted. But now he was being tormented by all his past life nightmares, which he hadn't had after crossing over. They had somehow came rushing back today for reason unknown. Each scene played out before his eyes with agonizing clarity, a haunting reminder of the losses he had endured.

First came the memory of the day his father died, the sound of the his pulse going blank echoing in his ears as he watched helplessly from the sidelines. He felt the crushing weight of guilt and regret, wishing desperately that he could turn back time and change the outcome. He never had a great relation with his father, but he loved and respected him dearly. His death was the first blow to him in his past life. 

Then came the image of his mother, her tear-stained face etched into his mind as she bid him farewell for the last time. He reached out to her, but she faded away like a wisp of smoke, leaving him alone in the darkness. Harry tried to call out by nothing came out of his mouth. His tears stained his face as they continued to fall.

Next, he relived the heart-wrenching moment he lost the girl he loved, her life snuffed out before his eyes in a cruel twist of fate. He could still hear her laughter, see the sparkle in her eyes, but now she was gone, leaving behind only an empty void in his heart. But she passed away in his arms and he couldn't do anything to save her. 

But perhaps the most agonizing memory of all was the day he received the news of Ria's suicide. He remembered the shock, the disbelief, the overwhelming sense of betrayal as he grappled with the truth. Twelve years of friendship, shattered in an instant, leaving him adrift in a sea of sorrow and despair. He felt like he was dying. He never knew how he managed to survive after all that. He had wanted to kill himself but he didn't. 

Now as each of those memories played in front of his eyes again in vivid detail, he felt the helplessness creep in. He didn't want to remember these memories. It was in the past and it should stay there. He had a new family now. A loving mother, a doting dad, a cute sister and a goofball of a godfather. He didn't want to remember his past life. But how could he forget them? How could he forgive himself for not being able to save anyone of them? He wasn't able to let his mother and father live the life they deserved. He wasn't able to give them anything and that's all he ever wanted to do. He had just wanted to make sure his mother and father got to live a life of luxury. But he lost them even before he could get them anything. 

The image of his father, mother, girlfriend and Ria stood before him. Asking him repeatedly why he wasn't able to save them. Why did he let them die...

With each reproachful question they posed, Harry felt the weight of his failures bearing down on him, crushing him beneath the burden of his own inadequacies. How could he ever hope to find peace when his past mistakes haunted him like this?

As Harry grappled with the weight of his past and the relentless barrage of guilt, the scene suddenly shifted, transporting him to the familiar surroundings of Hogwarts? He appeared to be seated at his usual place by the fire in Gryffindor common room.

Alone in the dimly lit room, Harry's tear-stained gaze swept across the empty space, seeking solace in the familiar comfort of his surroundings. 

Then suddenly a figure appeared before him materialising from flames. A woman with eyes like deep crimson embers and hair that glimmered like waves of blackish-red fire stepped forward, her presence both ethereal and comforting. She was wearing a reddish black dress that seemed to be made of fire. It was as if a distant memory had suddenly resurfaced, reminding him of the dream he had forgotten upon waking.

"Embera?" Harry's voice trembled with uncertainty as he uttered her name, a flicker of recognition dancing in his eyes.

The woman smiled softly, her gaze filled with understanding and compassion. "Hello, Harry," she greeted him, her voice a soothing melody in the silence of the room.

As Embera drew closer, he felt the familiar warmth of the fire envelope him. This was why he always sat near the fireplace. The warmth of the fire always calmed him down. 

"What... why..." Harry's voice faltered, his attempts to articulate his thoughts stifled by the overwhelming intensity of the moment. He watched in silence as Embera closed the distance between them, her presence offering a sense of solace that he had long yearned for.

With gentle understanding, Embera wrapped her arms around Harry, drawing him close as if to shield him from the weight of his own despair. "It's okay, Harry," she whispered softly, her voice a soothing melody that echoed through the stillness of the room.

Unable to contain the storm of emotions that threatened to consume him, Harry buried his face in Embera's embrace, his tears flowing freely as years of pent-up anguish poured forth. He tried to speak, to express the pain that churned within him, but the words slipped him, lost among the overwhelming ocean of grief.

And for the first time in forever, Harry cried. He let go of his pride and cried. Bawling his eyes out as grief threatened to consume him. And as Harry's heart-wrenching sobs filled the room, echoing off the walls of the Gryffindor common room, Embera kept rubbing his back. Harry found himself surrendering to the raw intensity of his emotions, his tears flowing unchecked as he allowed himself to finally confront the depths of his pain he had kept hidden inside forever. 

Anyone who saw this would have known the depth of his pain. The pain he kept hidden behind his smiles and jokes. The pain from his past life that he had locked away in the deepest part of his mind. Trying his hardest to forget about it and not let it consume him. 

After a while Harry stopped sobbing, sniffling back his tears he looked at Embera who smiled warmly at him. 

"Why are...you here?", Harry managed to choke out.

Embera's smile deepened as she reached out to gently brush a stray tear from Harry's cheek. "I am here because you called out to me, Harry," she replied softly. 

"In your darkest moments, when the weight of your pain threatened to overwhelm you, your magic reached out across the realms, seeking solace and guidance," Embera continued, her words echoing with a sense of profound purpose.

"While from what I sensed it reached out to many realms but I was the only one who could come, so here I am", she smiled. 

Embera's words hung in the air, carrying with them a sense of understanding and compassion that washed over Harry like a soothing balm. As she sat down beside him, her presence seemed to envelop him in a comforting embrace, offering solace in the wake of his tumultuous emotions.

"I am sorry..." Harry's voice trailed off as he attempted to apologize, but Embera gently cut him off before he could utter another word.

"Don't be sorry, Harry," she interjected softly, her tone gentle yet firm. "Even the strongest creature feels pain and grief. It's a testament to your humanity."

With those words, Embera unfolded her arms from around him, allowing Harry to sit beside her as they faced each other in the quiet stillness of the Gryffindor common room.

"I saw the nightmares you were having," Embera remarked, her gaze meeting Harry's with a knowing look. "It didn't seem normal to me."

Harry's brow furrowed in confusion as he struggled to understand what she meant. "I... I don't understand," he confessed, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

Embera studied him for a moment before posing a question that cut to the heart of his inner turmoil. "Why do you think that it's your responsibility to save them? And how did you think you could have saved them?"

The weight of Embera's inquiry hung heavily in the air, prompting Harry to confront the underlying beliefs that had fueled his sense of guilt and self-blame. As he grappled with her words, he realized that perhaps his perception of responsibility had been skewed by his own insecurities and fears.

"I... I don't know," Harry admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I just... I wanted to protect them, to keep them safe. But I couldn't..."

Embera listened intently, her eyes reflecting a depth of understanding that transcended mere words. She smiled at Harry as if smiling at a stubborn toddler.

"It's not your fault, Harry," Embera reassured him, her voice filled with conviction. "You did everything you could with the knowledge and resources you had at the time. Sometimes, fate has other plans, and no amount of wishing or regret can change that."

Harry had heard those words countless times, but he still couldn't bring himself to believe that he couldn't have done anything. Yet he couldn't keep from blaming himself for their death, as if some part of him knew that he was the reason they died. It never made any sense to him. Why did he think he was responsible for their death? 

He had no answer to this question yet somehow he felt that he was responsible for it. Harry shook his head to clear his thoughts. These things are in the past. He has enough power to protect his loved ones this time. Then something Embera said earlier started to nag him a bit. 

"Why did my magic reach out to you?", Harry asked. 

Harry's question hung in the air, casting a shadow of uncertainty over the room as Embera's expression shifted, revealing a hint of surprise at his inquiry. For a moment, she seemed lost in thought, as if grappling with the complexities of his query.

Finally, Embera let out a sigh, her gaze returning to Harry with a mixture of reluctance and understanding. "Why your magic reached out to me... That is a question you will come to understand in time," she replied cryptically, her words laden with a sense of foreboding.

Sensing Harry's frustration, Embera offered him a reassuring smile. "For now, it's best not to dwell on it too much. Trust that everything happens for a reason, even if we don't always understand why."

Suddenly, Embera's demeanor shifted, her attention drawn elsewhere as she gazed up at the ceiling with a focused intensity. Harry watched in silence, curiosity piqued by her sudden change in demeanor.

"It's almost time for you to wake up," Embera announced, turning back to face Harry with a sense of urgency. Rising from her seat, she crossed the room and hugged him, planting a kiss on his forehead that made him blush.

"Take it easy, Harry," Embera murmured and with that, she vanished in a whirlwind of flames, leaving Harry alone in the Gryffindor common room as his vision began to blur once more. 

As he opened his eyes again he found himself laying on a comfortable bed. The ceiling above him was quite similar to the one in the Hogwarts hospital wing, yet the room itself was different. Unless somehow the hospital wing was shrunk down to about the size of the Gryffindor common room he was definitely in another room. It was smaller, more like a big quarter rather than the hospital wing. There were no rows of bed as the only bed was the one Harry was laying on. 

Gingerly shifting his gaze to the left, Harry observed a series of dark cupboards lining the wall, some with glass fronts revealing neatly arranged potion ingredients, each meticulously labeled. He was pretty sure that the hospital wing didn't have anything like this. Turning his attention to the right, Harry's eyes fell upon a sizable desk. At one end sat a bubbling cauldron, its contents emitting a faint vapor that wafted through the air.

As Harry tried to get up he was met with a dull ache all over his body. How long had he been unconscious for? His mind raced with question. What happened to him? Why did he faint? Also where was he? 

Just as he thought about his predicament, the door at the far end of the room creaked open, and Madam Pomfrey bustled in, her expression a mix of concern and determination. Spotting Harry awake, she hurried to his side, her professional demeanor kicking into action.

"How are you feeling, Mr. Potter?" Madam Pomfrey's voice held a note of urgency as she examined him, her wand flicking deftly as she conducted her assessment.

"Sore... all over," Harry admitted, his voice tinged with discomfort.

Madam Pomfrey muttered under her breath as she waved her wand over Harry's body, her brow furrowed in concentration. With a decisive nod, she instructed him to lay back down, her movements brisk and efficient.

Turning to one of the cupboards without glass, Madam Pomfrey retrieved a small glass vial filled with a vibrant green liquid. Handing it to Harry, she instructed him to drink it, her gaze unwavering.

As the liquid slid down his throat, Harry felt a wave of warmth spread through his body, the soreness ebbing away like a distant memory. He blinked in surprise, marveling at the rapid improvement in his condition.

"Stay here," Madam Pomfrey commanded, her tone leaving no room for argument as she turned on her heel and hurried out of the room, her footsteps echoing in the silence.

Left alone once more, Harry wondered what had happened to him. It's not like the injuries on his body were that bad that he would collapse like that. Moreover he collapsed after his body was healed. It didn't make any sense. Harry decided to sense his body condition using his magical energy. 

As Harry focused his magical energy, a sense of unease crept over him. Something was different, something felt weird about his magical energy. It didn't feel quite like the familiar magic he had before; instead, it seemed altered somehow.

His brows furrowed as he concentrated in guiding his magical energy all over his body to see why did it feel different than before. As he read the condition of his body he came to a horrifying discovery. His magical energy was halved in quantity. What has happened? Praesidius said that his magical energy will keep growing forever but know it's half of what it used to be and its even different than before. What exactly happened to him? How could he lose such a significant portion of his magical energy without explanation?

Harry recalled all the knowledge he had on magical energy and none of it even remotely covered his situation. This was very unsettling to him. Not only his magical energy has changed but he has lost half of his magical energy without any explanation.

Was this somehow related to the limitless growth of his magical abilities that Praesidius had mentioned? It seemed plausible, yet it failed to provide a satisfactory explanation for his current state. 

Frustration bubbled up inside Harry, threatening to spill over as he grappled with the unanswered questions swirling around him.

"Damn it!" he exclaimed, his voice tinged with frustration and confusion. "What in Merlin's beard is going on?"

The door creaked open in response to his exclamation, revealing Madam Pomfrey and Dumbledore entering the room. As he looked at Dumbledore, he hoped that the headmaster would be able to provide him with a suitable answer. Or at least some implication of what could have happened.

Harry's heart raced with anticipation as Dumbledore approached, his eyes searching the headmaster's face for any sign of reassurance.

"Professor Dumbledore," Harry began, his voice tinged with worry, "what happened to me?"

Dumbledore raised a calming hand, his expression serene yet inscrutable. "All in due time, my boy," he said gently. "Let us first ensure that you are in good health."

Harry nodded reluctantly, his impatience warring with his desire for answers. He watched as Dumbledore performed a thorough examination, his wand weaving intricate patterns in the air as he muttered incantations under his breath.

After what felt like an eternity, Dumbledore finally turned to Madam Pomfrey, his expression unreadable. "He is free to leave if he wishes, Poppy" he declared, his voice carrying an air of finality.

Madam Pomfrey nodded and exited the room, leaving Harry alone with Dumbledore, who pulled a chair closer to the bed and settled into it with a warm smile.

"Now, Harry," Dumbledore began, his twinkling eyes meeting Harry's gaze, "How do you feel?"

Harry looked at Dumbledore as if he was crazy but then he remembered yes he was. He replied, "My body was sore but Madam Pomfrey gave me a potion for that already. But the more concerning part is that my magical energy seems to be different now and even more concerning part is that my half of magical energy has disappeared."

Dumbledore listened intently, his eyes reflecting a mix of curiosity and concern. "Indeed, that is quite concerning," he acknowledged, his tone cheerful? "The disappearance of your magical energy and its alteration are certainly unusual occurrences. Though I believe I might just know why."

Harry looked at Dumbledore impatiently, waiting for him to tell him what he knew. 

"Harry, how much do you know about magical energy?", Dumbledore asked with a twinkle in his eyes. Dumbledore's cheerful demeanor was a quite contrast to the gravity of the situation.

"Magical energy is the energy that allows us wizards to do magic." Harry started. "It is the energy that flows through all witches and wizards that in turn allows us to communicate with the magical energy around us to produce desired outcomes, we call magic"

Dumbledore's smile widened at Harry's concise explanation of magical energy. "Brilliant, Harry, I couldn't have put it better myself," he praised.

Then, with a thoughtful expression, Dumbledore continued, "Now, let us delve a bit deeper. What do you know about magical cores?"

Harry furrowed his brow in confusion. He had never heard of magical cores before. He racked his brain, trying to recall any mention of them in his studies or books, but came up empty.

"I'm not sure, Professor," Harry admitted, feeling a bit embarrassed by his lack of knowledge.

Dumbledore's smile remained reassuring. "That's quite alright, Harry. It's a very new area of study and not widely known yet. Allow me to enlighten you."

Leaning forward, Dumbledore began to explain, his tone gentle yet authoritative. "A magical core is an imaginary core-like structure within the body of every wizard or witch. It serves as the reservoir for their magical energy, much like how in the muggle world a battery stores electricity. In essence, it is the magical essence that distinguishes a wizard or witch from a Muggle."

He paused, allowing Harry to absorb the information before continuing. "Without a magical core, performing magic would be impossible, as it is this core that houses and channels a wizard's or witch's magical energy, without which we cannot perform magic."

Harry nods as he took in the new information. So could his disappeared magical energy have anything to do with his core?

"While we are on this intriguing topic," Dumbledore interjected, his eyes twinkling behind his half-moon spectacles, "there is a matter of utmost importance regarding your magical energy, Harry."

Did Dumbledore know? But it's not possible right. He too came to know only when Praesidius had told him. There is no way Dumbledore should know about his limitless growth of magical energy right? Right. It didn't make sense for him to know. This must be something else. All these thoughts flashed through Harry's mind at once.

"What do you mean sir?", Harry asked.

Dumbledore observed Harry's contemplative expression, sensing the whirlwind of thoughts racing through his mind. With a serene demeanor, he began to explain what he meant.

"Each wizard's core," Dumbledore started, "possesses a predetermined limit to the amount of magical energy it can contain. However, there exists a rare phenomenon known as core reformation, wherein the core surpasses its original boundaries, expanding in size and purity."

Harry's heart skipped a beat as the implications of Dumbledore's words sank in. Could it be? Did his magical core undergo such a transformation? He knew his magical energy was limitless then it only made sense for his core to reform into a limitless one too.

"What does this have to do with me, sir?" Harry asked, fearing the answer.

Dumbledore's expression softened,. "The reason for your recent fainting, Harry, is precisely due to this core reformation process."

Harry's mind raced with a mixture of dread and curiosity. He had feared this revelation, yet a part of him had yearned for confirmation. Now the pieces starting falling into the places. His magical energy was spent on reforming his core into a limitless one.

"You mentioned there was more," Harry prompted, hoping that Dumbledore didn't know about his limitless magical energy.

Dumbledore fixed him with a steady gaze, his eyes searching Harry's for any sign of emotions. "I believe," he began slowly, "that your magical energy, unlike that of most wizards, knows no bounds. Your core has reformed into a limitless one."

He knew. Dumbledore knew about this. How did he know when even Harry had not known? But then again if it's a new research then it's bound that Dumbledore would know as he is the core of most researches into magic. And he said that it's not been made public yet so no wonder Harry has not read anything about it. But why did he not feel it with his magical energy before?

Dumbledore's eyebrows rose in mild surprise as he listened to Harry's calm acknowledgment of the revelation. It seemed Harry was taking this news with unexpected composure.

"But something tells me that you already knew this, Harry," Dumbledore remarked, his gaze piercing yet gentle.

Harry met the headmaster's eyes squarely, a sense of resolution emanating from his demeanor. "I did," he admitted simply. "Though I wasn't aware of the concept of a magical core. The notion of my magical energy having limitless growth, however, was something I had come to understand."

Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully, his curiosity piqued by Harry's admission. "And how did you come to this understanding?" he inquired, his tone laced with genuine interest.

Harry's expression grew serious as he recounted the meeting with Praesidius during his time in the hospital wing after the Quidditch match. "A person visited me in my dreams," he explained. "She told me about the nature of my magical energy and the infinite growth it holds."

Dumbledore wanted to know the identity of this person but he refrained from asking. Something in him stopped him from asking further. Something told him that he is not supposed to know about that person yet. Instead, he offered Harry a warm smile.

"Well, now that that's settled," Dumbledore began, rising from his chair and making his way toward the door, "I should take my leave. Good day to you, Harry."

"Professor?", Harry called out.

"Yes, Harry?", Dumbledore turned around to look at him.

"What is the date today?", Harry asked.

Dumbledore's smile widened. "Ah, my apologies for the oversight, Harry. It's actually the 16th of December today." He adjusted his glasses, then continued, "That reminds me, you should inform your Head of House about your holiday plans. Given recent events, I believe it would be wise for you to spend the holidays at home."

"Thank you, Professor," Harry replied. "I'll let Professor McGonagall know."

Dumbledore nodded and gracefully exited the room, leaving Harry to his thoughts. With thoughts of Christmas plans swirling in his mind, Harry summoned his wand into his hand. A quick flick and a muttered incantation, and he cast a cleansing charm over himself, feeling refreshed. Next, he waved his wand to transform his hospital attire into a comfortable pair of jeans and a cozy t-shirt.

Leaving a courteous note for Madam Pomfrey expressing his gratitude, Harry stepped out of the room. Glancing around, he realized it was tucked away behind the hospital wing office. It was probably Madam Pomfrey's private chamber. He felt grateful and made a mental note to send her a gift for Christmas.

He walked out of the office into the hospital wing to see that it was empty now. He remembered there being a student across him in a bed that had all the covers drawn around it. But then again he was almost unconscious for a month now. With that thought he walked out of the hospital wing and started making his way towards the Gryffindor common room.