The Thief Cries Thief. "What is it?"
In the pitch-black bedroom, Isobel groggily opened her eyes and looked at Albert, who had suddenly jolted awake and sat up in bed.
"I just had a nightmare."
Albert took a breath and calmed himself, trying to recall the dream that was already growing hazy in his mind. He had an uneasy feeling that something bad was about to happen.
He did not believe his Divination was powerful enough to grant him prophetic dreams, but Albert was willing to trust his instincts.
Still half-asleep, Isobel turned over and sat up, wrapping her arms around Albert from behind and gently resting her head against his back. "I never thought you had nightmares too."
"I never thought I would either."
Albert pulled the warm blanket up, covering Isobel's pale arm and half-exposed body. "Be careful not to catch a chill," he said gently.
With a slight lift of his hand, Albert summoned the wand from beside the bed. After leaving a brief record, he helped Isobel lie back down and return to sleep.
There was still a long night ahead.
That nightmare had left Albert mentally and physically exhausted, but he had no desire to sleep.
He still vaguely remembered the dream. In it, he had no panel. Though he had worked hard to improve his magic, he had still been caught up in the Second Wizarding War. His family had been murdered by Death Eaters. Because of his appearance, Harry Potter had ultimately failed to defeat Lord Voldemort, and the British magical world had fallen completely. Albert himself had died while being hunted down by Death Eaters.
Yes, in the dream, he had nothing. In the end, he had failed to avenge his family and died beneath Avada Kedavra.
To have no power was