Chapter 642: A Different Nightmare

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"No, damn it, no... I can't do that! You... who the hell are you? Why... why, why, why? Why are you pestering me..."

Late one night, vague murmurs of dreams sounded again on a delicate silver and green single bed. Although it was far from dawn at this time, the room was almost as bright as day.

"...stay away from me...no, don't come near me...what are you..."

The arrangement of this room can be said to be in order.

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 at first is not that it is expensive, but that everything that should be in order has been sorted out. Well organized. The books on the bookshelves are neatly arranged in sets, and the collections in the display cabinets are spaced at the same distance from each other, and there is no dust in every corner.

"...don't come here again...no...don't come here again..."

This is a rather old manor, but the people who live here still treat this ancestral house handed down by their ancestors cautiously, adhering to almost strict living habits. This sense of honor derived from the surname made this family never dare to underestimate the noble traditions left by their ancestors, even though most wizards have long believed that it is just a bad habit.

"……let me go!"

Suddenly, at the moment when the Hungarian Horntail dragon model on the desk raised its head and spewed out a burst of flame dragon breath, a loud cry sounded from under the quilt, and then the person on the bed suddenly sat up .

This is a handsome big boy. His short blond hair, which was originally combed meticulously, has been ravaged by the pillow like straw in a chicken coop, and the bangs on his forehead are even sticky from the sweat seeping out. A few strands. If this scene of embarrassment was placed in the past, it would definitely be unbearable for him.

"Hoo...hoo..."

He kept panting heavily, wiped the sweat from his forehead, and pushed back his messy hair. This is purely unconscious behavior, because I have always had this hairstyle when I was a child. Although I don't like to do it anymore, the habit I developed since childhood has been carved into my bones after all.

"……hateful!"

After calming his heavy breathing, he clenched his fists with both hands, and hammered heavily on the mattress beside him, making a muffled "bang".

"Dear,

Are you having a nightmare again? all right? "Accompanied by footsteps in the corridor, a female voice suddenly came from outside the door, "Can I come in?" baby? "

"No, no... I'm fine, mother!" He immediately replied loudly.

"Really, is it all right? Oh—" The voice outside was obviously hesitant to the extreme, it was a feeling of worrying about the child and not wanting to upset the child, "Okay... If you need it, Mom has always been there Here I am."

"I see."

I don't know when it started... Well, maybe it was after my father brought my mother back last time? At that time, when he saw his mother coming home, he immediately jumped on her, but he passed out again on the spot in a blink of an eye. According to the family therapist, he was temporarily in a coma caused by excessive mental fluctuations caused by agitation.

In fact, it seemed to be true on the surface, because it wasn't long before he woke up by himself.

But since that day, he has been having nightmares. In the beginning, he only did it once in a while. Although the dream was surprisingly similar, he didn't pay much attention to it.

However, the nightmares soon became more frequent, from once every five or six days to almost every night now, and the situation has 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 St. Mungo's therapist, who is the most famous in the British magic world, specially invited him to his home for a visit, but almost nothing was found.

The reason for saying "almost" is that although the expert failed to diagnose the specific problem, the general direction 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 resolved.

But the only thing is that he never told anyone from the beginning to the end. This included his parents, but also 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. Insufficient sleep makes him more and more tired every day, and his mental state is even worse.

But he just... is really a little bit reluctant to let this damn nightmare go away from him. While feeling fear and loathing in his heart, his heart was shaken... because he could clearly feel that there was a force constantly breeding, growing, fermenting, and spreading in his body...

This is a temptation mixed with pain, which makes it difficult for him to let go of it.

"But...but..." He raised his hand and put it in front of his eyes, looked at the darkness that flashed between his fingers, and whispered to himself, "Why do you have to do those stupid things? Didn't it all be proved last time? The fact is, even Weasley is not an idiot... want me to kill McClane? I haven't been driven crazy by that boring nightmare!"

If I had to say it, in those highly similar dreams, there was a mass of black like ink, and that mass of black pressed towards him again and again, and then kept entangled him, tore him, and gnawed at him. Looking at him... Although there was no pain in the dream, the vivid dream always made him tremble.

The feeling of being swallowed up by the unknown darkness is so real! too frightening!

Even though he refused to admit that he was not courageous since he was a child, the fact that he was not brave enough was undeniable under the current situation.

"Although I don't know what it is, since it encourages me to try to kill McLean again and again, doesn't it indirectly show that... McClain is probably its natural enemy?"

He was thinking like this, thinking about it non-stop, this thought had actually been wandering around in his mind for countless times. That's right, if he was determined to get rid of this nightmare from his life, going to Maca should be the most correct choice.

Even if he guessed wrong, then McLean is not the natural enemy of "it", but McClain's strength can still become the most powerful wizard he can entrust.

But every time I think about it, I...

He raised the palm of his right hand again, and controlled the blackness to swirl silently through his palm. This sense of power and control really fascinated him.

When he was slightly dazed, the corner of his eye flicked over the desk next to the bed, and accidentally caught a glimpse of the fire dragon model on the table that could only move freely in place. He blinked, and there was a trace of grayness on his delicate and pale face, which was the shadow caused by the light when he lowered his head slightly.

After a little hesitation, he waved away the black shadow in his palm, and stretched out his hand towards the palm-sized fire dragon. The little guy turned his head to look at his white palm, then gently flapped his dragon wings and threw himself into his hand.

It was a birthday present from his father in the past, a souvenir bought from a Romanian dragon farm. Because this is a small gadget made by individuals, the number is not large, and the fine and vivid body shows its good value.

In his hands, the fire dragon model is still as vibrant as when he first got it, and it hasn't changed at all; but the person who gave it to him is still lying on the bed, with a tired face and a wounded face.

It was the time when the father went out to find the whereabouts of the mother, somewhere in Germany, it seemed. When the father finally found the missing mother, he was accidentally injured by the mother who was under the Imperius Curse.

At the moment his father fell to the ground under the curse, his mother broke free from the shackles of the Imperius Curse and came to her senses, but the serious injury had already become a reality.

As for who the Imperius Curse came from, everyone has some idea in their hearts, but they never say it out of their mouths. No need to ask, if it wasn't released by Voldemort who lived at home, it must be 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 he said it to a model on the bed. It can be seen from this that his dependence on his father is still as strong as in childhood, but the growth caused by the family's disintegration once made him unwilling to let his seriously injured father worry more.

He knew he was not a brave man, and neither was the father he had admired since he was a child.

After holding the dragon model in his hand and playing with it absent-mindedly for a while, he put it back on the table. The curtains in front of the table were tightly closed, and no light from outside could penetrate, which made him wonder if the sky outside had lightened quietly.

Judging by the time displayed on the dial, it will probably take two or three hours before dawn, right?

"what--"

He let himself fall heavily on the bed again and again, in the endless entanglement, the exhaustion from lack of sleep dragged him into a misty dream again. As for whether he would still fall into the nightmare like before, he had no energy to worry about, because his mental fatigue had reached its limit.

The horrible dream, of course, will continue and accompany him until his final choice is settled.

On the bedside table next to the pillow, a potions notebook with a green background and silver border was sitting there, with a small signature - Draco Malfoy written in silver ink on the bottom of the cover.