Chapter 4

The Sight

The sky was only beginning to lighten when Ron climbed red-eyed out of bed, unable to sleep any more. He dressed as quietly as he could so he wouldn't wake the other boys, thinking he would head down to the kitchens for a bite, then go to see Harry. Ron knew Harry disliked being in the Hospital Wing and could use the company. Hermione and Ginny could catch him up when they woke.

Can't blame him for not liking it there, really, he thought. Getting hurt or sick is bad enough without the whole school gawking down the ward at you. Ron remembered being stuck there when he had broken his leg in third year and thinking that the place was too sterile and white. Maybe it would make Harry feel better if Ron took something from the dormitory down to him.

Ron crept over to his friend's bed and checked the nightstand. Not much there; a comb, a basket containing a toothbrush and other washing-up things, an eyeglass case holding the extra pair Harry had ordered during the summer while shopping for some new muggle clothes.

Ah, there we are. Quidditch Through The Ages. Ron put the book aside on the bed and looked for one more thing to take with him. Then a thought struck him.

He went back to his own bed, grabbed his wand, then returned to Harry's nightstand. A whispered "alohamora" opened the locked drawer of the nightstand, and Ron carefully lifted out a fist-sized crystalline globe set into a silver base and held in place by four long prongs carved into the shapes of the four elements, earth, fire, wind and water. A Musicall.

***

It was two days after Harry had arrived at the Burrow, and four owls had just dropped off a large package for him from Sirius Black and Remus Lupin. He had excitedly opened the letter with it first, hoping it would say his godfather and his former teacher would be visiting, but his face fell quickly.

"What's wrong?" asked Ron.

"They can't come."

"Oh. I'm sorry, Harry, that's rotten luck."

He could see his friend trying to hide the disappointment by reaching for the package. Ripping the paper away, Harry opened the box. A large black case, a box, about the same size as a shoebox, and another letter were nestled inside. Harry read the letter first, then gazed curiously at the black case before lifting out the smaller box.

Mr. Weasley came in just as Harry opened the box.

"Wow," he and Ron said at once.

"What's this?" Harry asked, carefully lifting a globe out of the box.

"It's a Musicall," Mr. Weasley answered, coming over for a closer look. "You can use it to record any music you want to and play it. Sort of like those muggle gadgets, what do you call them, empty-tree players?"

"I think you mean mp3 players, Mr. Weasley. My cousin Dudley's got one."

"Yes, but these are much better. There's no limit on how much music it will hold. It's quite a nice gift."

***

Ron might have been jealous if it weren't for the fact that he knew Harry would have forgone the big gifts for the chance to see the two of them. He had spent a day with Remus Lupin before coming to the Burrow, but Ron knew that wasn't long enough. Harry looked on Lupin as a sort of adopted uncle, and had hoped to see his godfather too. But they were both on the continent working for Dumbledore, so Harry had had to content himself with thinking of them when he used the Musicall. Ron never saw what was in the larger box. Harry said it was very personal and needed some time before he showed it to anyone, so Ron decided not to pry.

The Musicall would be the perfect thing to take along with the book. Ron closed and relocked the drawer, gathered up globe, book and wand, and exited the dormitory.

He crept down the stairs to the common room and was almost at the portrait hole when a hand touched his shoulder. He jumped, nearly dropping everything.

"It's just me, Ron," a voice whispered.

"Hermione!" he hissed. "Don't do that!"

"Sorry. If you're going to see Harry, we're coming with you."

Ron saw Ginny standing behind Hermione. Both girls had dark circles under their eyes, and Ron knew he wasn't the only one who had not slept well.

"I'm not sure we'll be able to get into the Hospital Wing this early. I was going to the kitchens first before I go to see Harry."

"Okay."

***

"You three are up early," said a weary Madam Pomfrey as they entered the Hospital Wing forty five minutes later.

"Morning Madam Pomfrey," Hermione said.

"We came to check on Harry," said Ron.

"I thought you would. He's asleep now, though, so please don't wake him. He only dropped off a few hours ago and needs all the rest he can get. The last spot at the far end of the ward. I'm going to have a nap, but call if you need anything."

"Could we ask the house elves to bring you up some breakfast, Madam Pomfrey?" Ginny asked the tired witch.

"No thank you, dear, I'll see to myself. You can stay as long as you like unless something else happens."

"Thanks," they said.

The far end of the ward was still dark, the shutters closed over the windows. Madam Pomfrey had curtained off the last bed at the end of the room. They crept around the partition.

Harry shifted uneasily in his sleep as Ron and Ginny sat down in the two chairs beside his bed. Hermione seated herself carefully on the edge of the mattress and reached for the hand that lay near her on the coverlet.

"Well, the fever's lower," she whispered. She put Harry's hand down and reached to touch his forehead. He felt cooler than he had yesterday, but the heat was still there, and even in the dark the pallor of his skin was still visible. That combined with the absence of his glasses made him look very young and fragile.

Ron put the book and the Musicall down on the bedside table next to Harry's glasses and wristwatch, trying not to accidentally kick the schoolbag leaning on the table legs. Hagrid must have retrieved it for Harry, or asked someone to.

"I asked Dobby to bring it up when he brought supper last night," Ginny whispered to him. "Try and set the Musicall to water or air."

Ron ran a finger over the silver prong carved into the shape of a wave. The liquid inside the crystal orb turned a pale blue, as did the opalescent sand at the bottom. Both moved in shifting patterns to the soft piano tune that began to play, emitting a pale blue light and projecting a water-like light pattern above the globe.

"How pretty," Ginny said softly. "Not what I expected him to like, but it fits."

Ron smiled faintly. "He said being bombarded by Dudley's noise made him build up a loathing for hard rock. Though I don't really know what kind of music people can make with rocks."

"Did anyone owl the Dursleys?" asked Hermione.

"Don't know, don't care," Ron said bitterly. "It's not like they care about what happens to Harry. I hate sending him back to them every summer. If I could bring him to the Burrow for the entire summer hols, I'd do it. I know there are wards to guard against Death Eaters, but there's nothing to guard against the Dursleys. I wish the Ministry would catch Peter Pettigrew."

"But he's dead," Ginny said, confused.

Hermione shot Ron a sharp glare as he started guiltily.

"You've done it now, Ron," Hermione scolded, gazing worriedly at Ginny.

"Done what?" asked Ginny.

Ron hesitated, then said, "Everyone in the family knows except for Ginny and Percy, and I know Dad will tell him if the need pops up. She might as well know."

Hermione nodded and turned to Ginny. "You can't tell anyone about this. A lot of us could be in trouble if it gets out."

"I promise I won't say anything," Ginny said.

***

"So that's it," Ron said some time later.

"It's not fair," Ginny said, upset.

"I would feel a lot better about saying goodbye to Harry at the end of school if he were going to Sirius," said Hermione. "I always worry about the Dursleys starving him and things like that. But without Pettigrew…"

"And that blockhead Fudge still won't believe Voldemort's back. Even with all the people at the Ministry who believe us, they can't help as much as they want to because of him."

"It's not fair," Ginny repeated. "An innocent man got sent to Azkaban and it's messing up the life of someone who shouldn't even have to be involved. Harry's only fifteen, and none of this was his fault."

"Innocents always end up paying in war," a voice said from behind them. "That's what makes it so hateful."

Professor Dumbledore stepped around the curtain.

"Good morning Professor."

"Good morning. Young Mr. Potter seems better today."

"Do you know what's wrong, sir?" asked Ron. "We didn't like to bother Madam Pomfrey, but…"

"I've only a suspicion now. It can be explained later."

There was a sound of flapping wings, and Pigwidgeon and Hedwig flew over to them. Pig dropped a letter on Ron's lap, then began zooming around the light of the gently shimmering Musicall. Ron tossed him an owl treat, then handed another to Hedwig, who nipped his sleeve in appreciation. She then flapped her wings in a disgruntled sort of way and glared up at Pigwidgeon with a hoot of disapproval, as though scolding an unruly child. The small grey owl took the hint and left for the owlery with a hoot of farewell while Hedwig perched protectively at the head of her master's bed.

"What do Mum and Dad say, Ron?" asked Ginny. Ron opened the letter.

Dear Ron,

We are very worried at your news about Harry, but have written to Charlie in Romania as you asked. It will take a few days to get a reply, but please tell Harry not to worry in the meantime and concentrate on getting better.

Also, tell Professor Dumbledore that your father has done what he asked in his letter.

I may come to visit once we get an answer from Charlie. Dad may come as well, but we'll be in touch in any case.

Give our love to your brothers and sister and Harry and Hermione. I'll write again soon.

Love,

Mum

"Mum says to tell you that Dad did as you asked, Professor," said Ron. "They've written Charlie and may come for a visit when they get an answer."

Dumbledore nodded. "Good."

"What about Sirius and Professor Lupin?" Hermione asked.

"Both on the continent, but I owled them last night." Dumbledore replied.

A sigh made them all turn. Harry's eyes blinked open.

"Hello," he whispered.

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed. She clapped a hand over her mouth as Harry winced at the noise.

"How are you feeling, Harry?" asked Dumbledore.

"Like I got into a fight with a dragon and lost," he replied quietly, reaching for his glasses. "Have you been here long?"

"Not too long," Ron told him.

A slight smile touched Harry's lips. "Liar. But I'm glad to see you." He turned his eyes to the headmaster. "Has there been any news, professor?"

"No, Harry," Dumbledore answered.

Harry was worried at that. "There isn't much time, sir. I can feel it."

The urgency and concern in his tone and on his pale face frightened his friends.

"Harry, what's going on?" Hermione asked.

He hesitated and glanced at Dumbledore.

"Later," the old wizard said. "Would the three of you please fetch Madam Pomfrey?"

They were reluctant to leave, but did as Dumbledore asked. Once they were gone, Harry spoke again.

"I haven't seen anything else, but my scar still hurts."

"Arthur Weasley has informed his friends in the Ministry. We have a Diviner on our side working in the Ministry of Foreign Magical Relations. She will see that your message is passed on."

"How long will it take?"

"She is working as quickly as she can, but keeping it secret from Cornelius Fudge is slowing the process. She will inform me when she knows something."

Ron, Hermione and Ginny returned with Madam Pomfrey a few minutes later. She checked Harry's temperature and shook her head.

"Is the pain still there?" she asked Harry.

"Yes, but not as badly as yesterday."

"That's good, but I'm going to keep you here until we find out what's wrong."

"It's all right, Madam Pomfrey, I don't feel much like moving."

***

Harry's friends remained in the Hospital Wing with him for the rest of the day. Hagrid, teary-eyed but trying not to show it, stopped for a quick visit. He left happier at seeing Harry looking better.

"Checkmate," Ron said as his queen slapped Harry's knight off the chessboard.

Harry wrinkled his nose in response. "Appalling."

"You nearly had me that time," said Ron, studying the board. "You just weren't paying attention."

Truth be told, Harry had been giving only part of his attention for the entire day since Dumbledore had gone. He was grateful his friends had come to sit with him, but he was anxious for the headmaster to return with news about his vision.

When he had fallen by the lake the day before, the pain in his head had blurred his vision, causing him to see a strange fog before his eyes. It cleared slowly, and then Harry had heard someone shout one of the most feared spells of the modern age.

"MORSMORDRE!"

The Dark Mark exploded in the sky above him. He was standing somewhere dark. His body felt very hot as he looked around wildly in confusion. Dread flooded his mind as he found he was surrounded by burning buildings. The sounds of screams and running feet filled his ears before he was almost deafened by a huge roar. A strong gust of hot wind nearly knocked him off his feet as a gigantic dragon landed twenty feet in front of him, carrying the familiar stocky form of Ron's older brother Charlie. The dragon keeper had stared around in horror as Harry's vision faded.

Harry had realized then that the red haired figure he had seen in Divination had been Charlie, not Ron. He knew that what he had seen had not yet occurred; he would have heard about it in the papers or from the Weasleys if it had. He had told Dumbledore what he had seen in the hope that the headmaster would be able to do something to stop the events Harry had seen from happening. Dumbledore had assured Harry that he would see to it the warning was shared with the proper authorities, but had asked that Harry not tell anyone else what he had seen until they knew more.

Harry was worried. Charlie's presence had told him that his vision had taken place somewhere in Romania, where the older Weasley brother worked with dragons. A message would take time to get there even without Minister Fudge's interference, and he feared his warning might come too late.

What will I tell Ron if something happens to Charlie? he thought.

***

Ron and the others were worried for a different reason when they returned to the dormitory that night.

"He may be better than he was yesterday, but he still looks terrible," said Ron.

"I wish we knew what's wrong," said Hermione. "Walking between the bed and the bathroom isn't supposed to leave him breathless."

Ginny, who had once caught the flu badly enough to experience that, put in, "I'd feel better if he would at least eat." Harry had ignored his lunch and stuck to tea. Dinner had brought only the slight improvement of some toast.

"I hope he can tell us tomorrow what's happening with him and Dumbledore," Ron continued, "and why he asked about Charlie. He knows we haven't heard from him for a while, but what would that have to do with his scar hurting him? You-Know-Who is the only one who can make that happen."

"He looked like he wanted to tell you something when Dumbledore was there," recalled Hermione. "I think he asked Harry not to. He wouldn't hide something about your family from you without a reason. But I hope whatever it is works out, worrying about it isn't going to help him get better."

With those disturbed thoughts, they bid each other good night in the common room and went up to bed.