Harry woke up with heavy breathing and his heart pounding a mile per minute as he stood upright in his bed. He felt his brow wet with sweat and the sheets clinging to him as he took in his dark bedroom and began to breathe slower trying to calm down from the horrible things he saw.

It had to be a nightmare.

Something so bizarre and senseless that he conjured in his sleep as he couldn't believe that what he saw was real, that what he felt was real he thought. He groaned unutterably as his mouth felt dry and his head hurt, he only could manage at the moment to just let his face rest on his hands.

After some moments where he began to feel he could stand despite the stinging he felt, he sat up from his bed, took his glasses that were on his bedside table, and with it, the room came more into focus as he still kept one hand over his scar.

What is going on with him?

He traced his fingers once more along his scar feeling it throb and he left a little hissing before trying to ignore the intense burning sensation he felt underneath.

Turning on his lamp he stood up and walked groggily from his bed to his wardrobe to look in the mirror that was behind the door to see if he had hurt himself, or something had happened, and as he looked at himself he couldn't help but look a little bit surprised at what he was seeing. Staring back at him was the thirteen almost fourteen years old with messy untidy black hair kid and round glasses that surrounded his green eyes he's always seen, but what stunned him was that his eyes were bloodshot and his face looked a bit paler.

Puzzled as to why he looked that way he looked closer to his scar and while it looked normal like it had always looked, it was still stinging and feeling inflamed. Rubbing his hand over it again trying to lessen the pain.

As some minutes passed with him just keeping the motion, he couldn't help but feel the whole thing that just happened to be crazy as the sleep he had and tiredness began to fade, he began to try to focus once more on what happened as to why he was that way. It had been a long day working in the house in the different chores they had him doing and after managing somehow to complete them he had turned to his bed to find any kind of sleep. Something he definitely didn't and would get again as he traced his fingers over his famous scar that was throbbing harder than he had felt over in a long time.

If ever really.

He tried to remember again what was the nightmare he had before waking up and try as he might he couldn't recall many things. He remembered seeing ... three men all speaking to someone behind a chair.

He recognized one of the people he felt but….. he couldn't remember well at the moment… He remembered seeing things like he was on the floor, being on a dark corridor before finally entering a room filled with dark green faded walls, and then…. some hissing and then a cold voice.. the voice of Lord Voldemort.

Feeling a shiver pass through his back as if an ice cube just passed down there he crunched his eyes and focused on trying to remember more of the dream but besides the horrible feelings of dread, disgust, and pain he had felt, he could only picture some images like seeing an old man dead and some talk about plans or something like that.

Was he hallucinating? had he imagined seeing Voldemort again?

He tried again to focus as he put his hands on his face and tuned out most of the noises that were in the night and tried to relieve everything and every feeling he had despite his great dread of not wanting to, but try as might he couldn't focus. It was like trying to look for a snowflake in a storm and soon enough he lost the memory of the dream.

Sighing and turning around, Harry took his face off his hands and looked around his room trying to see if anything was out of the ordinary. He felt reassured when he saw his untidy and opened trunk lying nearby the bed filled with his black robes and quidditch gear with some that had fallen to the floor, his cauldron and textbooks placed nearby, and his desk filled with parchment going everywhere except where his loyal white familiar rested on his cage.

He was a mess he knew, organization wasn't something he was very keen on. Especially in his room considering that only up until 3 years ago he had lived every day in that old cold webbed cupboard, so making sure everything was in the right place wasn't something he considered important.

He walked back to the window to check if anything was strange outside and see what kind of hour of the day was as well, he saw the empty street below with only the orange light of the lamp posts present and as he looked above and saw the night sky starting to fade into lighter shades of blue, he knew it was around five in the morning as that kind of color was something typical to see in this hour at this side of Little Whinging.

Privet Drive looked exactly like any respectable suburban neighborhood in the early hours of a Saturday morning, with everyone in their homes still in bed and with only the cats and dogs that were around the neighborhood as the only possible presence of a living being to be found in the streets.

It should have made him breathe easier, seeing as nothing was afoot neither in his bedroom nor the streets around it and yet…. it did not. It didn't bring him comfort at all.

As he let himself back to his bed restlessly he couldn't shake the feeling of … dread. Of great dread and trepidation filled his gut. He continued running his finger over his scar and tried to think again as to why it hurt him. When his scar hurt it usually meant that he was near the presence of Voldemort.

But Voldemort couldn't be here now… It was impossible…. and absurd to think Voldemort could be lurking in the streets of Private Drive….

Harry stilled as he tried to listen closely to any sounds that were coming from around him, but there was nothing. Just pure silence as he watched the ceiling of his room.

What was he expecting? to hear a swoosh or someone yelling a spell at this hour?

Just then he heard the tremendously loud snoring coming from Dudley in the room next to him and he jumped slightly because of it.

Shooking his head, he relaxed somewhat and let himself rest on his back as letting a breath he didn't realize he was holding. He was being stupid, there was no way Voldemort could be in Private Drive. After all, it was one of the reasons he was here in the first place, as according to Dumbledore he had protections thanks to his blood relatives.

Still, he needed to know what to do, or who to talk to. This sounded childish to just worry about a nightmare, but …. it was his scar after all and hardly anything remotely resembling normal couldn't apply to him.

There were still four weeks to go before he would be able to go back to Hogwarts or anywhere in the magical community. Looking around his room once more as he felt the hopelessness filling up his body his eye caught the letters his two best friends in the world had sent him during the last few weeks.

What would they say if he told them of his nightmare and worries?

At once, he felt the voice of his bushy-haired friend coming to his head

"Your scar hurt? … Oh Harry, that's something serious… you must talk to Professor Dumbledore! Yes, he would know what it could be. I will go and check if I can find anything in Common Magical Ailments and Afflictions, or on Magical Injuries: Causes and Treatments. There's gotta be something there about your scar or what to do with it ….."

Yes, he could already picture Hermione with a shrill and panicked voice as she would look concerned at him while she rambles about all this.

She would probably know where to look for information on a book somewhere, as she always did. Not that it was wrong, after all, he owed her big time for what happened at the end of last year and everything else, but this was different and he doubted he would find what he needed in a book. But writing Dumbledore wasn't a crazy idea.

The catch was he couldn't begin to think how to reach him, Harry had no idea where the headmaster went every summer holiday. Where would he go? to seat on a beach with his long white beard and hair relaxing as he sat on the sand enjoying the time while the sun was out?

Harry snorted as the image came to his mind.

Wherever he was though, Harry was sure Hedwig would be able to reach him, but what would he tell him?

Dear Professor Dumbledore, sorry to bother you but I was just dreaming and having a nightmare of hearing Voldemort and some people together, and as I woke up terrified my scar was hurting. Yours Sincerely, Harry Potter.

Even as he thought this, it sounded ridiculous.

So he tried thinking about what his other best friend Ron Weasley's reaction would be, and at that moment he pictured his best friend's red hair with his long nose, freckled face wearing a concerned face.

"Your scar hurt?... but. I mean You-Know-Who can't be near you right now… can he? …. I mean… you would know, right? It would be obvious …. maybe it's just normal pain a scar has, sometimes they may sting a little…. I'll ask Dad about it"

Of course, then again wouldn't be much help, as Harry remembered his job was in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office at the Ministry of Magic. So he wouldn't have much expertise in scars or healing at all. At any rate, he didn't like the idea of the Weasleys knowing of his scar, they were his favorite family after everything they did to him and always being there the last years.

Mrs. Weasly would probably freak out and fuss over him even worse than Hermione would while giving a medical check now and then, Fred and George would probably think he was losing his nerve. He hoped to see them all soon, the Quidditch World Cup was to be in two weeks and he hoped they had managed to get tickets and invite him over. So panicking them or causing them to tense up because of some weird dream and his scar hurting wasn't what he wanted to do unless he wanted to ruin his chance of going and escaping the Dursleys a little bit earlier.

Harry huffed exasperated and looked to the ceiling hoping the answer he needed would be there on what to do, who to speak to. He felt ashamed to be admitting to himself but…. he wanted no, needed was an adult. An adult-like parent, who cared about him, who had experience with Dark magic… and then it finally came to him as he immediately sat up straight.

"Sirius" He muttered, feeling more relieved as he had finally someone he could talk to.

He leaped up from the bed, crossed the room to his desk, and pushed all the parchment and things he had scrambled on top he began writing on a new piece Dear Sirius before he stopped and began thinking about recent things.

It was a great idea to talk to Sirius about this, no one he could think of would be better to fill the role as his godfather who cared for him and had offered him something that he's always dreamt of: A home. And yet it concerned him if his message would be answered at all by him.

During the last month since he and Hermione had managed to rescue him and set him off, he had written two letters so far to just let him know how he was doing, but he never got a long response.

Of course, he chalked it up to just him being in different places, or not returning the letters because he felt that it would be too dangerous and maybe they could locate him, or find out that he was communicating with him. Yet as the weeks passed and he didn't get any response, Harry began to worry.

Was he hurt? Had he been caught? or … could he not want to answer Harry's letters?

Harry shook his head at the thought, it was just a fleeting nervousness he felt. It was just a ridiculous thought as he couldn't be that way, after all, he did spend all of last year trying to protect him from the real betrayer of his parents, he even broke out of prison because of it. It was probably because he kept changing places Harry reassured himself before he began writing a letter that he hoped would be short enough and could reach him in time before he changed again.

The light coming from his lamp began to grow dimmer and dimmer as the sunlight began pouring through his curtains and into his room. His bedroom wall had now a goldish tone and he could begin to hear movement from outside meaning that Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were already awake. It took him probably around an hour but he felt satisfied with what he had written as he cleared his desk of the many parchments tries he had, and reread one final time his letter:

Dear Sirius,

I hope you're doing okay and that everything is fine wherever you are right now. I have missed you the last four weeks since the last time we saw each other at Hogwarts, and I hope that you are safe and can soon write to me, I would like to know that you're okay and that you haven't been caught or that something bad has happened.

I know you're probably changing places now and then so I hope I make this message quick before you have to once again move.

Things around here are the same as I told you before you left. The Dursleys barely tolerate anything but that's no surprise especially given what I did to Aunt Marge last summer when I left the house, though they don't remember what happened I feel like they still feel it was unpleasant so no good feelings there.

Although I gotta thank you since thanks to your name being known by the muggles as an escaped and dangerous prisoner they have mostly kept to themselves, I've been able to be left on my own since they're terrified of you showing up and turning them all into pigs if I told you.

Besides that, when I write this to you there's something I wished to tell you about a weird thing that happened this morning. My scar hurt again. The last time that happened was because Voldemort was at Hogwarts and near me. But I don't reckon he can be anywhere near me right now, can he? Do you know if curse scars sometimes hurt years afterward?

I'll send this to you with Hedwig, she'll wait for you so you can send her your reply. I wish to hear what you think, take care and say hello to Buckbeak for me, will you?

Harry.

Yeah, that looks about right, Harry thought.

Maybe a bit long but since he hasn't answered the letters he sent, Harry just wanted to show him that he cared for him, and well putting the dream would be too long and be pointless really.

He folded up the parchment and walked to Hedwig's cage, and opened it.

"Hey girl, did you have a good sleep?" He said to her as he stroke her white feathers as she hooted her peak at him softly.

"I need you to deliver this message to Sirius okay? He may be changing places many times but I know you will find him, and please could you stay for his reply. He must see this I'm a little worried" he said as he lifted her off her cage and let her settle on his arm.

She looked at him for a second before nodding her head and rubbing it on his shoulder.

Harry laughed at her motions "Thank you girl, I'll be waiting for you" he then tied up the message to her leg and opened the window before letting her out. He watched as she flew away in the bright blue sky with hints of gold and slowly became a blur in the distance. He then stretched his legs up before going once more to his wardrobe and without looking at the reflection in the mirror he started to get dressed before having to go back down and start breakfast and his chores that he did every day.

As he reached down the first floor and turned to the kitchen he found that his three relatives were already sitting down eating their breakfast in the small desks as they were hearing some radio show that was currently airing at that moment.

Noticing that they didn't even spare him a glance he moved to get beside the only available chair that was left further from where Aunt Petunia and Dudley were sitting, but regretfully still close to where Uncle Vernon was. As he sat down he looked to his relatives again and saw that his uncle was grinding his teeth as he read his newspaper with a strained and stressed face as he continued eating. Dudley appeared to be angry and sulking as he looked disdainfully at his food while Aunt Petunia kept a tight lip expression as she was still cooking something that at a distant view could be talked like some kind of soup while shooting every now and then glances towards the other two.

Harry was amused to see the expressions on their faces, something that didn't last as he looked down to his food and remembered part of the reason as to why that was. Ever since Dudley had come back from his school with his end-of-year grade report the house had become an endless argument zone. Aunt Petunia had always managed to find excuses for her son's behavior, such as like "his teachers didn't really understand him" or " he's having a lot of problems to face that's all" even his Uncle Vernon supported him saying that he wasn't much of a bright student back in his time but he had managed to land a decent job so it wasn't something to worry for.

But the last report was scandalous and a tipping point, Harry hadn't seen it personally but the ground shook with the arguments they had as the school nurse, had written some distinctive observations on some of the things that happened there and also of Dudley's own health. The first part seemed like it never happened for them but seeing that their son couldn't be given the uniform next year because of his weight had really changed his relative's opinion.

He was basically a fat seal with the ability to walk and talk, and ever since then after many wails, crying and arguments that stretched for over two insufferable weeks and even rattled sometimes things in his room they were now eating diet based food even Harry. Despite not having much to eat anyway as usual but still, it was changed and it wasn't for the food he had brought over from the train he would have gone mad.

Sighing internally he resigned himself to just pick up his fork and began eating the food that he was given. After some minutes of uncomfortable silence with just the chewing and forks hitting the plates between them, the voices of the program they were hearing kept speaking about something of gardening, his Uncle Vernon broke the silence as he put aside his newspaper with a huff and angry scowl in his face as he spoke up.

"These bloody foreign companies will be the doom of us, I can't believe the auction is really going through"

At that moment Aunt Petunia stopped her cooking and turned to Uncle Vernon looking with a worried face.

"So it's true. Vernon are you sure…"

"I'm afraid so dear, the company is going to be bought by these french entrepreneurs with that weird name so a lot of changes are coming. We have to wait and see but soon we'll know if it's true or not what the rumors say " his uncle answered with a deep sigh and what appeared to be some worry in his eyes.

"Yes eh… you're right, of course…. we must wait. It's probably not going to happen right?... just pure gossiping right?" His aunt answered with the greatest doubt Harry had ever heard from her

What was going on?

"I don't know dear, these past couple of weeks there has been more movement in the market than ever, and you know since two years ago when those Albanians, Bulgarians, and Germans arrived many companies that were once near-bankrupt have begun to become incredibly successful. The whole system has changed radically in the way taxes and everything was made previously, there's something weird going on but no one can say anything about it, or know what's going to happen" He said more sympathetically this time but with still uncertainty in her tone as he resumed reading his newspaper with a tighter grip than before.

As everyone settled once more into the food, Harry began to wonder again what could be so important that had disturbed them this way. As he continued thinking what could be and kept swallowing down his food he began feeling as if he should ask just straight away what it could be that really bothered them.

As he swallowed his last bite fully he decided to just do that,

"Uncle Vernon, is there something… "

"QUIET BOY! I don't want to hear anything from you, especially today!" His uncle raised his voice at him with one of the greatest glares he had ever shot him.

Harry was taken back at it and while he didn't fear them anymore as he once did, he still kept quiet as his uncle turned back his attention to the newspaper and kept eating.

After a minute or two of him hearing as his uncle touched his plate repeatedly with his fork making more noise as he shuffled food and only picked what he wanted, it began to not only annoy Harry with its clinking sound that made but also his Aunt Petunia as after a minute or two she snapped at his uncle.

"Stop it, Vernon! that's very annoying" she said angrily

"Well I'm sorry but how am I supposed to endure this Petunia?! Why must we endure this food?!" His uncle exclaimed with as much disdain and appalling tone as he could master while he touched the big number of grapefruit and broccoli present on his plate.

"Because we must Vernon! You know what was written in that report Vernon, we must adhere like we promised we would."

"But…."

"But nothing Vernon! We eat, now I know the situation but please can we just be quiet lest we don't hear the program" she said with a reprimanding but slightly pleading tone as she increased the volume.

Uncle Vernon heaved a great sigh that ruffled his large mustache and looked helplessly at the food. After a minute or so he picked up his fork and took a piece of the very small food that was served and brought it to his mouth.

Harry sighed, at least this part of his life still remained intact.

After breakfast, Harry was able to get back to his room without a problem. It appeared they were in trouble or something, during the last parts of it a package was delivered to them and it appeared to be from Uncle Vernon's boss or rather new bosses. It had shocked them to a state of nervousness, as when they read it they found out it was an invitation to meet and have lunch in two days with some of the representatives of the new owners of Uncle Vernon's company, so naturally, they had left him to mind his own business as they scrambled hurriedly to make preparations. Not that he cared as he didn't want to know anything of that and the only thing he could do was just stay in his room while waiting for Hedwig to return.

He really hoped Sirius would answer soon, his scar concerned him but no so much as the state his godfather could be in right now.