On the Revelation of Dreams
Harry remembers flying on the motorbike with Hagrid in his dreams. What would happen if his dreams revealed other truths to him as well?
A/N: Woohoo! First fan-fic! Just a one-shot, but an idea that has been percolating for a while now. If you all like it, I could write more. I certainly have ideas for more. Thanks for reading!
"Boy! Get up! It's time to make breakfast – and don't burn the bacon," Harry heard as he jerked awake to his aunt's pounding on the cupboard door. He sighed; it was such a good dream too. He got up and awkwardly pulled on some of Dudley's oversized hand-me-downs, wondering if everyone had dreams like his. Of course, he thought his good dreams were his mind's way of escaping his torturous reality. He didn't like to think of why his mind would come up with his bad dreams. They were even worse than his real life, if that was possible.
He hurried to the kitchen and took over the cooking. Avoiding the hot grease and frying the bacon to a perfect crisp, his many years honing this particular skill allowed him to ponder his dream. It was a new one. Not quite unlike the dream last week before Dudley's birthday, though this one did not contain a flying motorbike. These dreams made him feel... safe. Like he was home.
In his dream, he could hear voices talking. Female voices full of love, quietly murmuring to each other. He was in bed – a soft, warm, bed, and so it couldn't have been his cot under the stairs, full of spiders and drafty on the best day. He could hear the creek crick of two rocking chairs, out-of sync.
He cracked a dozen eggs into a bowl and began to whip them – Vernon would make him start over if they weren't perfectly fluffy – and he remembered in his dream feeling someone or something kick his leg. He'd squirmed his body to look over and see there was another boy napping with him, curled on his side on the other end of the mattress with his thumb in his mouth. Harry poured the eggs into another pan and turned the heat on medium low, preparing to scramble enough eggs to feed a family twice again in number as the Dursley's. At least Vernon and Dudley were big enough to be as large as a family twice in number. Harry chuckled to himself at the thought – they really didn't appreciate his wit.
Carefully dividing the food onto three separate plates, Harry remembered lifting his head toward the sound of the rocking chairs in his dream. The padded side of the bed – no, crib – he was laying in prevented him from seeing much, but he could see two heads gently moving back and forth. A redhead looking parallel to the crib, and a blond looking toward the crib. The former's voice was slightly muted because of the angle, but he could her the blond clearly.
"Neville could sleep through the worst trip on the Knight Bus, I swear."
"Lucky, Harry... just... James. I... so tired." Harry strained to hear the redhead's response, but could only hear snippets."
"They really are so different," the blond replied. "Even at this age. Neville is so shy and Harry is curious about everything and everyone."
"Friends... different perspectives... Potter honor and Longbottom Loyalty."
"I know, I know. I just hope they end up in Gryffindor together, like we were."
"Don't worry … godbrother bond … even...Slytherin..." BANG
Harry put the full plates in front of his relatives, shaking his head to get the jarring end of the dream out of his head. He snagged two pieces of toast from the kitchen, the ends of the loaf so his uncle couldn't complain, and went back to his cupboard, his mind too occupied to think of the fact that he just cooked a meal for six and didn't eat a bite. Gryffindor, Slytherin, Potter honor and Longbottom loyalty. All things he had never heard of before and would have thought imagined, but... Potter honor. He had always been told his parents were drunks that died in a car crash – no honor there. But the idea of Potter honor resonated deeply within him. Like the world within the dreams, it seemed... right.
"BOY!" Vernon's brash voice echoed down the hall and interrupted his thoughts. "Get the mail!"
Harry sighed to himself and went to get the mail from the entryway. Organizing the pile to put the bills in back and personal letters in front, Harry froze as he saw his own name adorning the front of a letter.
Mr. Harry James Potter
Cupboard Under the Stairs
Number 4 Privet Drive
Little Whinging, Surry
"BOY!"
Thinking quickly, his thoughts of Potter Honor making him realize that he didn't want his Uncle Vernon reading his mail, he slipped the letter through the slats in his cupboard door, smiling slightly as he heard his secret land on the worn fabric of his blanket. A reason to look forward to returning to his cupboard for once. He could wait.
Later that night, after successfully avoiding notice from the teachers at school and pulling a fast escape on Dudley and his gang during Harry Hunting, twice, Harry slipped into his cupboard ready to have his mind occupied by something new.
Listening to make sure Dudley wasn't going to burst in unexpectedly, Harry picked up the letter and felt a thrill of excitement flow through him at again seeing his name on the front of the thick parchment. Bottle green ink. This was definitely NOT normal. And he liked it.
He turned the letter over slowly, enjoying the discovery of something which his uncle definitely wouldn't approve. On the back, protecting the integrity of a letter, was a seal, of the sort he had never seen before. The seal took the form of a shield, broken into four quadrants, Red, Yellow, Green, and Blue. Each had... he peered closer through his broken glasses... an animal featured, with the words Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Slytherin, and Ravenclaw, one within each quadrant. He paused. Gryffindor? Slytherin? Those names were from his dream! If those names were real, then... Potter Honor.
Harry felt a spark of something grow within him. Here was potential proof that he wasn't the offspring of two drunk layabouts. Here was proof that he might have come from something and might be something. And he might have a godbrother! He might have family! He wondered how he had ended up with his aunt and uncle if there were other options.
But,... Just perhaps... This letter has answers. Or will lead to answers...
And he will get answers to his questions. He will be something. Potter Honor demands it.