Chapter Two

The Dream


Harry wiped the tear slowly out of his eyes as he sat up and reached for his glasses. His mum and dad...they had seemed so happy...his dad must've been a prankster to say the least, after seeing James Potter sneak into the girls' dorm...so his mum was a year younger than his dad? He wondered if that was true....

He shoved his glasses on, and everything became suddenly clearer, causing his room to come into focus sharply. The dream had been so real.... Why would he be dreaming all of a sudden about his parents? Didn't he usually dream of Lord Voldemort's plans? That had definately had nothing to do with Voldemort or Wormtail.... Well, at least not Voldemort.... Wormtail had been in there, hadn't he? And he had been talking to the people he betrayed a few years later...

"Mum," he whispered softly, feeling another tear creep down his cheek, "Dad..."

He knew something was happening in the wizarding world, because when he dreamed usually something was going on. Usually it was bad. Probably worse since he'd dreamed about his dead parents....

He smoothed his black hair down thoughtfully, clutching his forehead out of impulse. When he dreamt his scar would hurt generally. It hadn't been the scar that had woken him this time, it had been when James had fallen asleep...maybe Wormtail had tried to murder him that night and failed? That would be a good reason to have that dream...

Another thought hit him. Lily...Evans? Was that his mum's name before Potter? What were the other girls' names? Marinah? Krissa, and...Rita? Skeeter? The reporter? Had she really been in his mum's year at Hogwarts? And what about the Christmas Ball Moony had mentioned? Moony was Remus Lupin, James's friend during his schooldays. Why did they discontinue the balls? There hadn't been a ball before the Yule Ball, had there?

Harry laid back down in his bed with a dull thud. He heard his cousin, Dudley Dursley, give a loud snort from the room across the hall. He closed his eyes tightly, fighting back the tears that threatened to come. Should he tell Sirius? Sirius Black was his godfather, and had been James's best friend throughout Hogwarts. Sirius would want to know anything unusual going on...but dreaming of your parents when they're dead wasn't unusual, was it? Didn't orphans dream of what their parents were like? Wasn't this the same?

James and Lily Potter had been murdered by Lord Voldemort fourteen years ago, when Harry had been one year old. James had fought Voldemort off for a while, yelling for his wife to take Harry and run, then Voldemort had finally used the Killing Curse, Avada Kedavra, to put James Potter away. Lily had been told to stand aside so Voldemort could murder Harry, but she refused and was therefore murdered so Harry could be. But Voldemort had been unable to kill the infant; the love his mum left wouldn't allow Voldemort's curse to touch Harry, and instead it rebounded on Voldemort, nearly killing him.

Harry had been brought to live with the Dursleys, his horrible aunt, uncle, and cousin. Aunt Petunia was a small woman with a long neck and blond hair; Uncle Vernon was a short, plump man with a black mustache and nothing of a neck; and Dudley was the split image of his father: (to Harry) a pig with a wig.

Harry hated the Dursleys because they were so normal; the Dursleys hated Harry because he was so abnormal. It appeared they wanted nothing more than to see Harry dead, or in as much suffering as possible. They wanted nothing to do with the wizarding kind such as Harry, and forbaid Harry to say the name of his school in their house.

If they wanted to see me sufer, Harry thought, they should've been at the graveyard a few months ago. Harry's thoughts drifted once more to the Triwizard Tournament, the used-to-be annual competition between the three major wizarding schools of Britain: Durmstrang, Beauxbatons, and Hogwarts. There were three champions usually, but Harry had been chosen as the fourth champion, and had to compete in the tournament, even though he was underaged by new regulations. He'd made it through all the tasks in one piece, then the maze...he had taken the cup at the same time as Cedric Diggory, the other Hogwarts champion, and they had been warped to the graveyard.... Then Wormtail had came, and Voldemort had been reborn, Cedric had been killed, and Harry had nearly been killed. But his and Voldemort's wands wouldn't allow their owners to duel with each other, as their core was from the same phoenix: Fawkes, Albus Dumbledore's (headmaster of Hogwarts) pet.

He had been tortured in that graveyard, both physically and mentally. That had been the first time he'd seen his parents: in a shadowy form that came from Voldemort's wand. But the dream had been much clearer and much...sadder, somehow.... He had seen his mum, dad, and their friends at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and they had been so...happy...but he could not share that feeling of happiness...he wished he could be that happy, but he knew it was impossible. The Ministry of Magic of Britain was in turmoil with Voldemort's uprising, Albus Dumbledore was taking action into his own hands, and Harry was stuck with the good-for-nothing Muggles that were his only living relations.

He would give anything to be with Sirius Black, as Sirius was his godfather, but Sirius was convicted of betraying Lily and James and killing twelve Muggles and Peter Pettigrew with one curse. Harry, however, knew that Sirius was actually innocent, that it had been Pettigrew who had killed those Muggles and faked his own death, leaving only his finger. In his third year at Hogwarts, Harry had learned all of this, and he had wanted to be with Sirius ever since. Harry guessed Sirius was now deeply involved with Voldemort now, however; he was getting fewer and fewer letters from his godfather this summer.

Harry was stirred from his musings as he heard a tap on the window. His snowy owl Hedwig was flying there, looking ruffled and angry as the rain beat down on her. Harry jumped carefully out of bed, as to not wake the Dursleys, and let her in along with a lot of rain.

"Why're you back, Hedwig?" he whispered as he stroked her back. She stared up at him with amber eyes, then held out her leg. A small piece of parchment was tied to it. "Who's this from? Ron?" Hedwig nodded her head once. Harry untied the letter and was about to read it when -

"BOY! Breakfast!" shouted Aunt Petunia shrilly. He looked outside. The sun wasn't out...the clouds were probably hiding it...

He pulled some jeans and a shirt on, then hurried downstairs to find everyone else already sitting at the table. Dudley was whining about his diet as Aunt Petunia placed a grapefruit on his plate.

"But Mum," said Dudley, pouding his fists on the table, "I've lost weight, really!"

But if Dudley had lost any weight, he must've weighed at least a thousand pounds before, as he still looked as fat, if not more fat, than Harry remembered last year. Harry sat down quietly across from Uncle Vernon, who's nose was in the morning newspaper.

"Good morning," said Harry cautiously; he didn't feel like using his Sirius routine this early in the morning.

"What's good about it?" grunted Uncle Vernon.

Hmm, thought Harry, improvement - at least he's talking to me...

"Sleep well?" Harry asked, still trying to sound cheerful.

"What do you want, boy?" Uncle Vernon snarled. "Permission to go away for the rest of the summer, I suppose?"

"Erm...not yet, anyhow," said Harry as Aunt Petunia placed a minute grapefruit in front of him. "Just thought I'd be nice for a change."

"Like I said, boy: What d'you want from us?"

"Nothing," said Harry, taking a bite of his grapefruit. "If I even open my mouth anymore..."

"Go to your room," snarled Aunt Petunia. "And give the rest of that to Duddie-kins!"

Harry thought of arguing, then decided against it. He instead took what was left of his grapefruit, placed it on Dudley's plate, and left for his room, half grateful for having an excuse to leave them once more. He did, after all, have a letter to read. Maybe Dumbledore told Mrs. Weasley, his best friend Ron Weasley's mum, that Harry could finally leave the Dursleys until next year. The Weasleys had always kept Harry towards the end of the summer, and even taken him to the Quidditch World Cup last year. The Weasleys were like Harry's real family, the one he'd never had.

He immediately picked up his letter upon reaching his room and unfolded it quickly. It appeared Hedwig was right; it was from Ron.


Harry,
Mum said Dumbledore said it was okay if you came with us to, get this, the Swiss Alps with Dad! The Ministry's sending Dad over there because some idiotic wizard enchanted several Muggle items to fly and apparently can't get them back down. Muggles are going crazy over there because the Ministry of Magic of Switzerland is a little lax with their rules. And all the Ministry officials are quitting because of You-Know-Who's return.

Everyone's a tad crazier this year Harry. Fudge won't admit to You-Know-Who's return, and Dumbledore's been doing a lot of things our favorite (yeah right) Minister doesn't approve of. He's even threatened to fire Dumbledore. I don't think he will because Dumbledore's the only wizard You-Know-Who is afraid of, and Hogwarts would be dangerous then.

Fred, George, Ginny, and Hermione are coming with us, too. We'll pick you up by car tomorrow, regardless of whether or not the Muggles concent on it. We're not even going to bother with formalities this time. See you tomorrow, Harry.

Ron


Harry laid the letter back down after re-reading it a few times, all the news buzzing through his head. So Cornelius Fudge wouldn't admit Voldemort was back, Harry thought. Fudge was the British Minister of Magic, and he loved his job more than anything. Harry felt a tinge of anger as he scrolled a letter to Ron. How could someone be so daft as to not believe the truth.

He tied his short letter to Ron (Sounds good, I'll tell the Muggles anyway. See you then, Harry) to Hedwig's leg and watched as she fluttered away into the stormy sky. He watched her until she disappeared completely from view.

Then a happy thought hit him as he remembered the letter: He was going to the Swiss Alps! Snow in summer! At least, there probably was snow there. It was a lot colder on top of a mountain than on Privet Drive....

And at least there wouldn't be Voldemort there...at least Harry could think happy things for a while, and forget the dream for now.