“Harry, Harry… wake up. Please, wake up,” the voice whispers, cutting through the sturdy foundations of his house as though they were made of Wonder Bread, and not wood and gravel and stone. A wish fills him, completes him. It swells in his chest, breaking through his ribs and leaving him in a glorious agony.

He wishes he could wake up. He wishes he could see who she is, though he has a feeling he already knows.