He needed more whiskey.
No - he would have to tell Dumbledore!
Harry felt a huge chill go through him. Dumbledore, whose eyes he had just seen glow red.
So - was the vision real then? Was Dumbledore in danger, or was that man really Voldemort? Or was it simply a dream, showing Harry how much he really trusted the Headmaster now after the events just six weeks ago. Did he subconsciously feel his trust to be that badly betrayed?
The teenager was grateful he now had another way of finding out the truth about what he had really seen. There was no need to go careering the length of the country on Thestral-back. Voldemort wouldn't catch him out twice.
Harry shooed Pig onto Hedwig's cage, wrenched open his bedside drawer and took out a magnifying glass. He then turned his attention to his wristwatch. To everyone else this looked like an ordinary Muggle sports watch, but this couldn't be further from the truth.
With trembling fingers Harry gently began to twist the outer dial ninety degrees anti-clockwise, then two hundred and seventy degrees clockwise, and finally ninety degrees anti-clockwise.
Almost immediately the face began to frost over. Harry waited as the numbers and hands disappeared from view. Then, just as had happened after the other dreams, Harry found himself looking at a rather uninteresting looking compass face, with its four main directions, and the bright red end of the needle pointing North.
But of course, as this wasn't an ordinary watch, it wasn't an ordinary compass either. Harry pressed a thumb to the compass face and whispered the password.
'Doth mine eye - dream, see or lie?'
With baited breath he picked up the magnifying glass and peered at the compass through it.
The needle began to tremble, but did not change direction. Steadying his arm against the cabinet Harry moved the glass away, further magnifying the face, and particularly focusing on the large black 'N' which indicated North.
'Show me - is Professor Dumbledore in danger?'
Immediately the 'N' began to glow green.
And Harry let out a huge sigh of relief. Green meant a dream. Dumbledore was safe.
Harry then stared at the other compass points. To an onlooker this would seem very strange, but then they were not to know that there was a wizard's name written in microscopic handwriting inside every single compass point mark.
This compass watch had originally been a rare talisman. Confiscated many years ago by the ministry, Kingsley Shacklebolt had managed to transfigure it into a wristwatch and sneak it out. It had then had a group of Hogwarts' wizards cast a series of complex spells on it to link each wizard to each compass point. It had taken above a month to complete, but it had stopped any more false alarms.
Harry now relied on this to help him separate his dreams from his visions (Which could now sometimes be eerily similar if Voldemort was feeling particularly sadistic,) and he was still very much in awe of it. The way it was set out reminded Harry a bit of the Weasley's grandfather clock. Except this compass was set up for detecting danger, and not revealing where people were.
Albus Dumbledore was written inside the 'N,' of course, and at each side on the smaller notches were names of other Hogwarts' teachers, order members and parents.
Huddled around the 'E' of Neville Longbottom were DA members and classmates.
Strangely enough, Harry noticed his aunt's name claimed the 'W,' while his uncle and Dudley took up the notches northwards and southwards of it.
And Southwards was where strange got stranger. In a way it did make some sense, Dumbledore being North and all. But even so, why should that man be apart from all the other Hogwarts' staff and order members? Harry couldn't help scowling as he read the name Severus Snape curved around the bends in the 'S' marking due south.
Git.
And ditto to the small notch just to the left of him too. Draco Malfoy.
Ferret git.
Harry felt his eyes protest from squinting into the magnifying glass. If anything it appeared he didn't have perfect vision after all. Writing seemed to blur the closer he held the watch to his face.
Harry scowled. Would this mean he would need reading glasses now? Fate really had a twisted sense of humour.
So - what was the explanation for his eyes? There was only so much blame to be placed on the whiskey.
Was the talisman malfunctioning? Surely not - he'd only had it two weeks!
Maybe he should check anyway, just in case.
Or - maybe it wasn't Dumbledore in danger. There had been another in his dream after all - another professor who had played more than a bit part.
For a long moment Harry hesitated. What if Snape was in danger?
Harry scoffed to himself. Why would Snape be in danger?
And that little annoying voice in his head just had to reply to this, of course. 'Because Snape is a spy.'
Harry shrugged. Spies were always in danger - if film portrayals were anything to go by, they practically ate danger for breakfast. And mortality rates were high. Dumbledore would just have to get a new Potions Master.
It really was as plain as that in Harry's head. Snape would have let Sirius die back in third year. Two could play at ruthlessness.
'Ah, but he didn't a few weeks ago,' hissed the voice. 'He informed the Order. Decoded your message.'
'Probably left it as late as possible. Told Kreacher to lie.' muttered Harry.
Harry growled. He had caught himself talking out loud again. It was growing into a rather embarrassing habit. One he tried not to do in front of people, in case they thought he was going loopy.
Maybe he was?
But letting Snape die by ignoring a nightmare? Harry almost screamed in frustration as the pensieve memory began to replay in his head, as it had done too many times, relentlessly.
Damn that memory! It had done its awful work in making Snape human. For making Harry discover that he could feel empathy for the man, could begin to understand him, at the cost of shattering his unshakeable belief in his father.
Harry closed his eyes. His father. His father may have been cruel to him, but he never wanted Snape to die. And if there was one thing Harry was afraid of, it was more deaths.
He shivered. He was sure he couldn't handle any more deaths! It felt bad enough having to use whiskey to relax. And thank Merlin for Dudley's company. It was basic enough, but it had made all the difference between suffering and going mad since the end of school.
Letting out a bitter sigh Harry squinted once more through the magnifying glass.
'Show me - is Snape in danger?'
The needle trembled. Harry blinked. The 'S' was glowing a colour which Harry had only ever seen the South -West marker glow. And the 'SW' marker on this compass had Tom Riddle etched into it.
Harry paled. The 'N' still glowed red, but the 'S' was glowing blue. This meant that, just like the scenes Harry suffered through Voldemort's eyes, Snape creeping up on him in the Dursleys' hallway, was true.
The sick dream was not completely a dream. Some of it actually happened.
Harry dropped the magnifying glass on to his bed and went to examine his hands closely. His gaze didn't linger long on them, though. It didn't take long to confirm one more thing.
Now his gaze was resting on his bedroom door.
****
Several shots of malt whiskey later the thunderstorm had quietened down. This had the effect of winding up the tiny owl, who had only moments before seemed fast asleep.
Harry had ignored Pig at first, being quite happy to sit there working himself into a stupor once again while the little sneezing bundle fluttered around the shelves to dig about among the broken toys.
But after a while the owl's scratching got louder. It sounded like he was bringing up a pellet. But the noise continued on from that, and developed into series of snorts and odd retching noises, which became so pronounced Harry was forced to investigate.
Once he had removed the jigsaw piece, and a small Christmas bauble that had got wedged in the over-inquisitive owl's throat, Harry decided he'd had enough of sickly owl-sitting and scrawled a brief note to Ron thanking him for the card, and suggested he ought to have his owl checked over.
As he shooed Pig out of the window Harry's mind could have been hoping that Pig wouldn't cough up any jigsaw owl pellets once he got back to his owners.
But it was far more likely that his mind was running over the same idea. Again and again.
Absent-mindedly, Harry traced his thumb over the palm of his hand. Over rows of fading indentations which had likely been caused by gripping hard onto something spiky or bristly-
The scroll. Where was that scroll?
______________ A/N: Thanks reviewers! Don't worry - there is a method in my madness! I have the plot worked out, this chapter will make sense. ;-) Next chapter: Harry questions can't wait 'til morning. And someone else is considering the whiskey.
No - he would have to tell Dumbledore!
Harry felt a huge chill go through him. Dumbledore, whose eyes he had just seen glow red.
So - was the vision real then? Was Dumbledore in danger, or was that man really Voldemort? Or was it simply a dream, showing Harry how much he really trusted the Headmaster now after the events just six weeks ago. Did he subconsciously feel his trust to be that badly betrayed?
The teenager was grateful he now had another way of finding out the truth about what he had really seen. There was no need to go careering the length of the country on Thestral-back. Voldemort wouldn't catch him out twice.
Harry shooed Pig onto Hedwig's cage, wrenched open his bedside drawer and took out a magnifying glass. He then turned his attention to his wristwatch. To everyone else this looked like an ordinary Muggle sports watch, but this couldn't be further from the truth.
With trembling fingers Harry gently began to twist the outer dial ninety degrees anti-clockwise, then two hundred and seventy degrees clockwise, and finally ninety degrees anti-clockwise.
Almost immediately the face began to frost over. Harry waited as the numbers and hands disappeared from view. Then, just as had happened after the other dreams, Harry found himself looking at a rather uninteresting looking compass face, with its four main directions, and the bright red end of the needle pointing North.
But of course, as this wasn't an ordinary watch, it wasn't an ordinary compass either. Harry pressed a thumb to the compass face and whispered the password.
'Doth mine eye - dream, see or lie?'
With baited breath he picked up the magnifying glass and peered at the compass through it.
The needle began to tremble, but did not change direction. Steadying his arm against the cabinet Harry moved the glass away, further magnifying the face, and particularly focusing on the large black 'N' which indicated North.
'Show me - is Professor Dumbledore in danger?'
Immediately the 'N' began to glow green.
And Harry let out a huge sigh of relief. Green meant a dream. Dumbledore was safe.
Harry then stared at the other compass points. To an onlooker this would seem very strange, but then they were not to know that there was a wizard's name written in microscopic handwriting inside every single compass point mark.
This compass watch had originally been a rare talisman. Confiscated many years ago by the ministry, Kingsley Shacklebolt had managed to transfigure it into a wristwatch and sneak it out. It had then had a group of Hogwarts' wizards cast a series of complex spells on it to link each wizard to each compass point. It had taken above a month to complete, but it had stopped any more false alarms.
Harry now relied on this to help him separate his dreams from his visions (Which could now sometimes be eerily similar if Voldemort was feeling particularly sadistic,) and he was still very much in awe of it. The way it was set out reminded Harry a bit of the Weasley's grandfather clock. Except this compass was set up for detecting danger, and not revealing where people were.
Albus Dumbledore was written inside the 'N,' of course, and at each side on the smaller notches were names of other Hogwarts' teachers, order members and parents.
Huddled around the 'E' of Neville Longbottom were DA members and classmates.
Strangely enough, Harry noticed his aunt's name claimed the 'W,' while his uncle and Dudley took up the notches northwards and southwards of it.
And Southwards was where strange got stranger. In a way it did make some sense, Dumbledore being North and all. But even so, why should that man be apart from all the other Hogwarts' staff and order members? Harry couldn't help scowling as he read the name Severus Snape curved around the bends in the 'S' marking due south.
Git.
And ditto to the small notch just to the left of him too. Draco Malfoy.
Ferret git.
Harry felt his eyes protest from squinting into the magnifying glass. If anything it appeared he didn't have perfect vision after all. Writing seemed to blur the closer he held the watch to his face.
Harry scowled. Would this mean he would need reading glasses now? Fate really had a twisted sense of humour.
So - what was the explanation for his eyes? There was only so much blame to be placed on the whiskey.
Was the talisman malfunctioning? Surely not - he'd only had it two weeks!
Maybe he should check anyway, just in case.
Or - maybe it wasn't Dumbledore in danger. There had been another in his dream after all - another professor who had played more than a bit part.
For a long moment Harry hesitated. What if Snape was in danger?
Harry scoffed to himself. Why would Snape be in danger?
And that little annoying voice in his head just had to reply to this, of course. 'Because Snape is a spy.'
Harry shrugged. Spies were always in danger - if film portrayals were anything to go by, they practically ate danger for breakfast. And mortality rates were high. Dumbledore would just have to get a new Potions Master.
It really was as plain as that in Harry's head. Snape would have let Sirius die back in third year. Two could play at ruthlessness.
'Ah, but he didn't a few weeks ago,' hissed the voice. 'He informed the Order. Decoded your message.'
'Probably left it as late as possible. Told Kreacher to lie.' muttered Harry.
Harry growled. He had caught himself talking out loud again. It was growing into a rather embarrassing habit. One he tried not to do in front of people, in case they thought he was going loopy.
Maybe he was?
But letting Snape die by ignoring a nightmare? Harry almost screamed in frustration as the pensieve memory began to replay in his head, as it had done too many times, relentlessly.
Damn that memory! It had done its awful work in making Snape human. For making Harry discover that he could feel empathy for the man, could begin to understand him, at the cost of shattering his unshakeable belief in his father.
Harry closed his eyes. His father. His father may have been cruel to him, but he never wanted Snape to die. And if there was one thing Harry was afraid of, it was more deaths.
He shivered. He was sure he couldn't handle any more deaths! It felt bad enough having to use whiskey to relax. And thank Merlin for Dudley's company. It was basic enough, but it had made all the difference between suffering and going mad since the end of school.
Letting out a bitter sigh Harry squinted once more through the magnifying glass.
'Show me - is Snape in danger?'
The needle trembled. Harry blinked. The 'S' was glowing a colour which Harry had only ever seen the South -West marker glow. And the 'SW' marker on this compass had Tom Riddle etched into it.
Harry paled. The 'N' still glowed red, but the 'S' was glowing blue. This meant that, just like the scenes Harry suffered through Voldemort's eyes, Snape creeping up on him in the Dursleys' hallway, was true.
The sick dream was not completely a dream. Some of it actually happened.
Harry dropped the magnifying glass on to his bed and went to examine his hands closely. His gaze didn't linger long on them, though. It didn't take long to confirm one more thing.
Now his gaze was resting on his bedroom door.
****
Several shots of malt whiskey later the thunderstorm had quietened down. This had the effect of winding up the tiny owl, who had only moments before seemed fast asleep.
Harry had ignored Pig at first, being quite happy to sit there working himself into a stupor once again while the little sneezing bundle fluttered around the shelves to dig about among the broken toys.
But after a while the owl's scratching got louder. It sounded like he was bringing up a pellet. But the noise continued on from that, and developed into series of snorts and odd retching noises, which became so pronounced Harry was forced to investigate.
Once he had removed the jigsaw piece, and a small Christmas bauble that had got wedged in the over-inquisitive owl's throat, Harry decided he'd had enough of sickly owl-sitting and scrawled a brief note to Ron thanking him for the card, and suggested he ought to have his owl checked over.
As he shooed Pig out of the window Harry's mind could have been hoping that Pig wouldn't cough up any jigsaw owl pellets once he got back to his owners.
But it was far more likely that his mind was running over the same idea. Again and again.
Absent-mindedly, Harry traced his thumb over the palm of his hand. Over rows of fading indentations which had likely been caused by gripping hard onto something spiky or bristly-
The scroll. Where was that scroll?
______________ A/N: Thanks reviewers! Don't worry - there is a method in my madness! I have the plot worked out, this chapter will make sense. ;-) Next chapter: Harry questions can't wait 'til morning. And someone else is considering the whiskey.