Tired beyond belief, Harry tried to focus on the conversation, but it was no use. It was late morning and despite the very long lie in, he felt dead. The long, long rest spanning almost fourteen hours hadn't seemed to have touched him at all. All he could remember was endlessly waking and falling asleep, the strange whispers plaguing him all night and stealing his rest.

It took him a long time to realise someone was shaking his shoulder.

Harry dragged his eyes open and looked up from where he lay on the kitchen table, slumped over the wood like a solider near death.

"Huh?"

Hermione frowned, looking into glazed blue eyes. "You're asleep on the table, are you okay?"

Harry blinked hard, forcing his eyes to open again and propped his head up on a palm. "What? Oh, um, I'm fine. Sorry, what were you saying?"

Frowning too, Sirius set down his tea cup. "There's been no word from Dante or any news at all concerning him – the Order are feeling a more than a little freaked out."

"It is odd." Mr Weasley agreed. "After what happened at Diagon Alley, the Ministry is on high alert for Krysta and Dante with orders to bring them in by any means necessary, but they don't seem to have any inkling that Dante's with Voldemort now."

"Wait," Harry said, struggling to keep up with conversation. He covered his aching eyes with a hand to block out the afternoon light. "The Ministry is looking for Krysta and Dante too?"

Ron nodded. "Of course they are; Krysta may have destroyed all the bad guys, but the Order all fled before she could blast them too. There's no doubt they know what happened and are after Krysta now – can you imagine all her fire power in the hands of the Ministry?"

"It's exactly what Michael kept saying no to." Hermione added.

Mrs Weasley snorted. "Michael was a brave one though. He kept very nicely saying no, but waltzed into the Ministry whenever he wanted to talk to Arthur or Dumbledore or the Minister himself or anyone else he felt like an audience with."

Lupin chuckled. "Michael really didn't have any fears at all. Krysta's the same – she just walks in if she wants something. Kinda like how she just walks back into your life, Harry, if she thinks you need her."

Both Sirius and Harry smiled happily.

"God, I miss that girl." Sirius sighed, involuntarily glancing at the doorway towards the stairs. "I'm so glad she's healing."

"It's slow, but she's healing." Mrs Weasley reiterated. "She will be okay."

Harry sighed deeply and let his head fall onto his arms again, his eyes closing. "Oh, thank god."

Opposite him, Lupin and Sirius exchanged worried glances again.

"Harry, are you sure you're alright?" Sirius asked. "You seem knackered."

Ron frowned too. "You slept in until one in the afternoon too."

There was no answer.

Gently, Mrs Weasley grasped the teenager's shoulder. "Harry?"

Harry jolted awake again and forced himself to sit up. "Hmmm? Sorry - what happened?"

"You're exhausted." Mrs Weasley said, looking into glass blue eyes. She smiled reassuringly. "I'll make up the bed in Ron's room for you."

"I think you should go back to bed too, Harry." Hermione said as Mrs Weasley left the room. "You look like death again."

"Thanks." Harry yawned and rubbed his eyes. "Sorry, I'm fine, really. I just… had a weird night."

"Yeah, it was weird." Ron reiterated. "Whatever you were dreaming about carried on when you went to sleep again. You kept on talking."

Instantly, the adults were on full alert.

"What dream?" Mr Weasley said first.

"What were you dreaming about?" Sirius asked.

"What were you saying, Harry?" Lupin demanded.

Harry looked at the three men around the table, then at his two best friends. They were all staring at him.

Far too tired for this, Harry slumped into his arms again. "It's just a dream; I probably am just stressed."

"It is kind of weird." Hermione said tentatively. "You freaked Ginny out enough to go and get Ron in the middle of the night."

"Yeah," Ron added. "You usually talk, but that was just plain weird. The times kept on going down too."

"What times?" Sirius demanded, getting annoyed now. "What were you dreaming about, Harry?"

Harry didn't answer. Quickly being dragged into sleep again, he felt the overwhelming sensation of being tugged into the dark, coaxed almost dragged towards it more and more.

Then he heard it. The whispers.

There were other voices calling his name, he felt hands shaking him trying to wake him up, but the calling of the whispers was too much to ignore. They felt so light and encouraging, it was difficult to think they were anything terrible.

Until they all started whispering at once.

Just like that night before, the whispers rose up so quickly, so suddenly, Harry didn't have time to react, just drown.

They were calling to him, pleading to him, begging him to…

…use them.

Okay.

Several gasps circled the table, but Harry didn't notice.

Suddenly feeling better, Harry sighed deeply and opened his eyes, slowly hauling himself off the table top.

"Sorry," he said again, rubbing his eyes. "What were you guys saying?"

Silence.

Finally, Harry registered what he was seeing. Every single person around the table was staring at him with wide eyes. Frozen like statues, they looked at him in a mix of disbelief, shock and awe.

Then Harry saw it.

Every single object on the table from the salt shakers to the bread basket was floating in mid air…

…on a shimmering cloud of blood red magics.

Harry blinked, unknown to him, but in full view of everyone else, his eyes switched from striking blue to deep blood red for a split-second.

"Twenty-three hours, eighteen minutes."