When Harry had finally pulled himself from the immense shock that had been his dream, he became suddenly very aware of a severe pain on the bottom of his right foot. Frowning and wiping away tears, Harry pulled back the sheets of his bed to find...blood. He stared incredulously at this phenomenon with his breath caught in his throat. It was an illusion. Harry was still dreaming.

Biting his bottom lip, Harry limped to the bathroom where he realized that he was not stuck in any dream. This injury to his foot was, oddly enough, very real. He sat down upon the toilet and inspected the injury further. There was no glass in the wound, or anything else for that matter. How, then, had Harry managed to cut himself?

Knowing better than to let the incision heal on it's own, Harry helped himself to the medical cabinet where he applied some disinfectant, a healing potion, and then proceeded to wrap it. He limped back to his and Ron's room where he began to look for what may have caused the wound. The constant shuffling of sheets was enough to wake Ron, who noted Harry's wrapped foot and immediately began to ask questions.

"I don't know," Harry answered every single time. "I just woke up and my foot was bleeding."

Ron frowned. "That's strange."

"I know." He debated telling Ron about his dream. About the Death Chamber and the veil, the ocean and the mirror. No, Harry decided almost immediately after he had thought it up. But it couldn't hurt to narrow it down a bit. "Stranger still, I did the exact same thing in my dream."

Ron was up now, searching for some clothes. "What?" he asked, not quite listening.

"I cut my foot in a dream I had too, and when I woke up it was bleeding."

Ron's brow furrowed. "Very strange."

Harry wasn't so sure. He'd heard of it happening before, even with muggles. They dream they're falling off of a building only to wake up crudely splattered on the floor of their bedroom after having fallen out of bed. The same could be said for cuts or injuries. It wasn't really that odd, but Harry couldn't quite figure out what he had cut his foot on. With that mystery solved, he'd feel much better.

"There's some medicine stuff in the bathroom if you want," Ron stated, pulling a shirt over his head.

"I already took care of it," Harry replied, slipping a sock over the bandage so that it wouldn't attract attention.

They headed down to breakfast with Fred and George following behind them. Ginny was already downstairs, helping her mother set the table.


A quick run to Diagon Alley with the Weasleys had allowed Harry the opportunity to purchase something that would give him some entertainment for the next couple of...days. It was a new addition to the series that Remus had purchased for him as a Christmas present last year. He had bought it for a few reasons. First; the series had been incredibly helpful while he had been teaching the D.A. meetings. Second; the series had been rather fascinating anyway, and Harry had learned a great deal from them. Lastly; Remus had written to him the other day and recommended that he take a look at it. Having nothing better to do, Harry had bought the book and was now thoroughly enjoying the read. In fact, Harry was so absorbed in the volume that he was almost unaware of the fact that Ginny and Ron had joined him in the study.

"Like the book?" Ron asked, chewing on a few delicacies his mother had baked the day before. Harry nodded, not looking up from his read. Ginny exchanged a grin with her older brother and took a cookie from the coffee table.

"Have you told Remus you've bought it yet?" she asked, knowing quite well the story behind Harry's interest in what had appeared to everyone else as nothing more than a rather insipid Dark Arts series that might be a text book set someday.

"No," Harry answered, folding over a corner of the page and taking a cookie for himself. "I figured I'd write him tonight about it. Last time I asked him he hadn't gotten it yet." Ginny giggled. "What?" Harry asked, bemused. His right eyebrow raised in questioning.

"She thinks you're going brainy on us," Ron said with a laugh. Harry shared in the uproar that was now Ron and Ginny's laughter.

"Hardly," said Harry with a grin. "I have my favorite subjects, but I'm no Hermione."

"Huzzah for that!"

Harry laughed again. As the minutes waned away, Ron and Ginny started in on a conversation about Quidditch. Harry, taking an uncharacteristic disinterest in the subject, melted back into the book. He had just finished up the third chapter (an exhausting fifty-two page read) and had now reached the fourth, and found to his horror a subject he had not expected to encounter ever in any book.

Chapter Four: Portals and Doorways to The Other Side

Part One: The Dead Daises

Harry read on, intrigued.

It has been known to the officials of the Unspeakable Department at London's Ministry of Magic that there are in existence three portals that, in question, may lead a living person, Muggle or Magical, to what is known as "The Other Side". Of course, such theories are yet to be methodically experimented on. However, it has been said by those thoroughly studying these daises and portals, that the voices of those who are dead can be heard whispering behind them.

Harry stopped dead in his read. He wasn't insane. He had heard people behind the veil. Luna had as well. It was the voices of those dead calling out to them. Swallowing hard, Harry wondered. Had it been the voices of his parents?

Ron and Ginny both looked up to find Harry paling over this newfound page.

"Harry?" Ron said, frowning. Harry jumped and looked up to see the faces of both his friends staring apprehensively at him. "What is it?"

"Here, read this," Harry said, moving to hand him the book. Ron reached out to take it, but at that time the book slipped from Harry's hand and fell with a heavy thud to the floor. "Bloody hell," Harry grumbled, kneeling to pick it up. Ron had tried to catch it, but with no luck.

"Sorry, mate," he said, frowning guiltily.

Harry fumed, trying to find the page. He reached chapter four again, but his frown deepened. The page was different now. It read;

Chapter Four: Vampiric Genealogy

Part One: Vlad the Impaler

Harry cursed this time, flipping like mad through the pages.

"Everything all right, Harry?" Ginny asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I found something," he stated, not looking up. "Something in Daises."

Ron and Ginny exchanged concerned glances.

"Like what?"

"An entire chapter on them, but I can't find it now." Harry could feel his anger growing as he flipped to the back for the index and glossary. He looked up everything from Daises to Portals, finding nothing on the former and hardly anything helpful on the latter. Angry, he slammed the book shut and let it fall to the floor at his feet.

"I'm sorry, Harry," said Ron, sounding genuinely apologetic, which was unlike him. "I didn't mean to make you lose the page."

Harry shrugged halfheartedly. "Don't worry about it." He looked up at the clock and sighed. "It's getting late."

Ron nodded in agreement. "I think we'd better head in."

"Sounds good," said Ginny, stretching. "I'm knackered."


"So what did you find?" Ron asked once they were alone in the room. Harry tucked his new book under his cot and sighed, trying to consider if he had found anything, and whether or not it had been a trick of an emotionally exhausted mind.

"It's more along the lines of what I thought I found," Harry corrected, pulling back the sheets of his bed.

"Oh?"

Harry nodded, falling back on his cot. "I could have swore I saw the title talking about Daises and Portals, but when I flipped back it talked about Vampiric Genealogy."

Ron snorted. "Personally, the former subject sounds much more interesting."

Harry chuckled. "Not only that, but I..." Harry trailed off. He didn't want to lead into the subject he'd started on. Ron sensed this.

Everyone had tried to keep hush-hush the situation that had happened with Sirius, yet at the same time everyone was bursting for Harry to, well, burst. Harry had grown quite an explosive temper the summer after his fourth year; the fact that he'd been completely cut off from the world concerning everything that had happened had been too much for him. But this summer, after Sirius'...well, Harry hadn't once had an episode. It was more concerning to everyone than had he had an emotional fit. He was bottling things up, which was exactly what Harry's friends had been afraid he would do. Ron especially had been afraid for his friend.

He decided at long last it was time to finish beating around the bush. Everyone had treated Harry like he was a child on the edge. As if one mention of Sirius' name and he'd just melt away and die in a dark corner of his mind. Ron knew otherwise. He would accept seeing Harry cry. He would accept his anger, his curses, his tears, his blame on everyone and everything, but he wasn't going to allow his best friend in the world to destroy himself while everyone else looked away.

"But what?" Ron encouraged, sitting down and staring at Harry's timid form. There was something in Ron's eyes that made Harry rather impressed; a sort of depth that he didn't usually display. Ron was as concerned as everyone else over Harry's mental and emotional welfare, but this was the first time he was being probed about his own thoughts and concerns.

It was almost relieving.

"It's just that...I've secretly been wishing to find something on that Dais. If I just knew something about it, I'd be satisfied."

To Harry's surprise, a grin came over Ron's face.

"No you wouldn't," he said, his eyes twinkling. Harry was just about to protest, but Ron continued. "You're not like Hermione, the brainy type and all, but in a sense you are. You're not satisfied knowing 'just enough', you have to have the whole shebang or you'll drive yourself insane." Ron paused. "You want to know about the dais because you want to get Sirius back."

Harry sighed.

"Is that such a terrible thing?"

"Terrible?" Ron shook his head. "Terrible? Typical, more like, but not terrible. But, if anyone knew how to get Sirius back from that dais, it would have been done by now."

"But does anyone know anything?"

Ron shrugged. "Who knows?"

Harry allowed himself to laugh at this ironic assortment of words. But he knew Ron was right. If something could have been done by anyone, it would have already been acted upon. The truth was sobering, and depressing. But Ron wasn't finished.

"There's something else bothering you."

Harry nodded, knowing better than to think he could hide it. "I've been having dreams where Sirius is talking to me." A skeptical look crossed Ron's face, but Harry didn't allow him to interrupt. "It's strange. He keeps telling me he's not dead."

"Hopeful thinking, mate, it's all just--"

"No, you don't understand," Harry interrupted sternly. "I'm somewhere, always somewhere, and I hear his voice. He keeps telling me to wake up."

Ron raised an eyebrow. "Wake up?"

Harry nodded. "He keeps telling me he's right where he's always been. That I'll see him if I just wake up. I don't get it."

Scratching his head, Ron sighed. "I don't either. Of course, dreams never have to make sense. I once had a dream that everyone on the Quidditch team was playing naked and the snitch was a flying landmine. Trelawney said it meant I was concerned about my past. I never made the connection."

"I can't now, although I'm disturbed that you're having dreams about me flying on a broom without my clothes on."

Ron laughed, and Harry joined in. "Oh, I wasn't paying attention to you. I was watching Angelina and Katie."

This caused Harry to dissolve into a fit of giggles.

"Figures," he finally managed. Ron's expression brightened.

"Maybe you should write Remus now?"

Harry sighed, wiping a few tears from his eyes. "Yeah, I should."

Ron nodded, gathered his pajamas and moved to the bathroom. A few minutes later, he could hear the shower running. Harry gathered up a bit of parchment and a quill and began to write. It seemed awkward writing his old school professor, but he'd done it a few times before and tried once more, unsuccessfully, to dismiss the nagging feeling that he might be bothering the man. Remus has told him to write whenever he had the time, and Harry had promised to do just that. Now, it was just a matter of sounding not-too-formal, and not-too-casual.

After a few moments of thought, Harry decided on the best way to word the letter.

Remus,

It's Harry. I thought I'd write and tell you that I purchased the new book in that series you gave me for Christmas last year. I got it today in Diagon Alley (Mrs. Weasley needed a few ingredients for something) and I've already reached chapter four. It's really a good book. Let me know when you get it, and what you think about it.

In other news, we've not been up to much. Other than our visit to Diagon Alley, things have been pretty uneventful, but I'm not complaining. The company has been great, and every now and then Fred and George experiment with a few new prototypes for their business. So far no one has been blown up or turned into anything unnatural, but it has kept things interesting (to say the least).

Will you be coming over again soon? I enjoyed your visit last time, though we didn't get to talk much. I understand you're probably busy. You don't need to hurry back with a response. Don't rush.

Take care,

Harry

He waved the parchment for it to dry, then allowed Hedwig to take it before her nightly hunt. Harry watched as she disappeared over the moonlit horizon. It was still a few days until the full moon. Remus would get the letter in time, but a response was another story.

With a sigh, Harry pulled off his glasses, checked his injured foot, and drifted off to sleep before Ron had ever turned off the water.