In the center of the room, away from any furniture, floated a dark-cloaked figure with baleful nonexistent eyes. Its darkness permeated and filled the room like a choking miasma, the bottom of its robe scraping against the furniture like tendrils, and growing up the walls much like vines, made of tenebrous cord, with a glossiness to their surface that seemed to both reflect and absorb the moonlight. Harry froze in his bed, under covers, unable to move or tear his eyes away. On his forehead, the scar began to ache; at first, with a dull sensation like a pain in the knee, and then with stabs of brutalizing sharpness and brilliant, flaring energy. He grit his teeth but didn't dare hiss.
It spoke, in a voice that wasn't a voice. It was the most terrifying thing Harry ever perceived with any of his senses; a voice like eternal night, that fell and clasped the world, never to let go.
I... I REMEMBER THIS.
Its eyes didn't exist, but fell upon him.
RULER OF HOMELANDS; A LORD OF VESSELS. A LORD OF VESSELS? WHAT. NO...
Harry shivered in his bed, a cold tear running down his eye. His mouth opened, but he couldn't bring himself to ask a question.
HARRY... POTTER. I AM NOT THE DEATH'S VOICE, MAKE NO SPEAR OF TERROR IN YOUR HANDS, AND IN NEITHER SENSE. ALL THAT IS EASILY FOOLED AND CUDDLY DANCES IN ITS RIGHT PLACE AND REMAINS AS CRYSTALS, BUT THERE ARE CHILDREN STILL LIVING WHO KNOW OF THIS HOLE DUG INTO THE WELL OF THE ROOTS. UNFORTUNATE BUT NECESSARY. DECIPHER MY RUNES, FOR THEY ARE YOUR ENTIRE WORLD BETWEEN NOW AND FOREVER.
It wasn't the same ghost as the one that haunted the Dursleys. It was something different, something else.
...A PEERLESS ONE ROSE FROM ASHES OF BRONZE AND LIGHTNING, THE WORLD-CARRIER'S VILE PROGENY FROM HIS LAND, WHO CARRIED THE SKY ON BRANCHES OF ARBOUR. HIS WILL MAKES AND UNMAKES EVERYTHING IN YOUR WORLD, BETWEEN NOW AND FOREVER, BUT NOT FOREVER. AERMORA MEANS "TREE," DO YOU ACKNOWLEDGE? THE GODDESS EATS THE CITY UNDER THE SEA AND THE PROGENY BREEDS, AND THE UNFORGIVEN PROGENY BECOMES ONLY FOR CUDDLING AND SUCH THINGS. THE VISIONS ABIDE AND PASS AS THE CIRCLES MAKE. ALL IS COMING TO PASS AS THE ANCIENTS PREDICTED. THEY DANCED IN THE DARKNESS. YOU ARE GOING TO HATCH SOON.
As the figure spoke, Harry found that he couldn't breathe, and happy thoughts drained away from him rapidly, leaving his mind almost like the breath leaving behind his lungs. A thin layer of frost covered every single object in the room, and rime started to build up on Harry's glasses on the bedside; a visible lattice of white verglas that spread in fractal patterns. Somehow, Des was sleeping through all of this, lying in his cage and none the wiser to the entity now haunting their bedroom. It kept floating there, a shadow in reality; it didn't exist, and couldn't exist, not even in the same way as the usual ghost at Hogwarts. It was something completely different and unnatural.
A thing deep in Harry's chest - maybe his heart, or maybe some magical core - felt unutterably cold, as if completely frozen.
...YOU WILL DISAPPEAR AT CONVOCATION IF YOU DO NOT ACT. IF YOU DO NOT HATCH, YOU HAVE A CIRCLE AT MOST. TRUST THE GUARDIANS, DO NOT TRUST THE ANCIENTS.
It paused. As if to think.
YOU WILL FORGET THIS NIGHT, BUT YOUR SOUL REMEMBERS, AND PERSISTS IN ERROR. SEEK ME AGAIN. I HAVE MORE ANSWERS. BUT FOR TONIGHT, LIVE. I AM STANDING BEHIND YOU NOW.
After that, Harry went to sleep and never had a nightmare again.