Visitors

Harry was also awake that night. He hadn't slept well at all that summer; he wasted most of his days and nights opening and closing the locket he had retrieved from the cave last year, listening to its repetitive clunking sounds.

He had initially higher hopes than usual for what was to be his last stay with the Dursleys, having promised with Hermione and Ron last year that they could visit him; however, they had not come and the proposition seemed less likely with his birthday less than a week away.

He knew that Hermione was busy reading, as she had wasted her summersearching endlessy to find the identity of R.A.B., so she probably simply forgot about the promise to come to Privet Drive. Ron, he suspected, was too busy preparing for the wedding and would not be able to come.

Harry had neither received letters from Ginny nor sent letters to her, and he believed it was for the best, but as he opened and closed the locket for probably the millionth time, he admitted to himself that he was disappointed, possibly even hurt that his friends had not arrived. He sighed, took one last look outside his window to see if Hedwig had returned, then went to bed.

He had a dream that night, one that felt so real he thought maybe he was inside Voldemort's mind again, but it was not a dark dream.

He distinctly heard two intruders enter his room through the window, then slowly move closer to his bed. He tried to wake up, but he could not, for the dream was so real he was not even sure if he was sleeping.

As the dream continued, the intruders forms became clearer, and he was able to deciper their voices, which were extremely similar to Hermione's and Ron's.

"This is stupid," Ron groaned groggily, obviously quite tired.

Hermione, however, was wide awake. "This is important!" she insisted sharply yet quietly. "Hurry up! Get in position!"

Ron shuffled closer to the bed, and in the process hit the leg of Harry's desk, causing the locket to fall to the ground and open itself with the force of the impact.

"Be careful!" Hermione shouted silently. "Do you want to wake him"
After several more shuffles, she instructed, "All right, then move closer, and put your wand on top of our hands." She took in a deep breath, then grabbed hold of Harry's hand.

The next segment of the dream was not as clear as the rest. Next he thought he heard himself talking, mumbling, he couldn't even understand himself. He couldn't even be sure if he was talking. Was he talking in his sleep?

"I do," said Hermione clearly.

Ron gasped in surprise as a flame escaped from his wand.

- more mumbling -

"I do," said Hermione again, clearly.

Another flame escaped.

- mumbling again -

There was a short pause, then Hermione said clearly, "I will."

A final flame emerged from Ron's wand and combined with the two others to form a fiery snake that coiled itself around Hermione and Harry's hands. It was hot, and Harry could feel the pain, and yet the pain did not wake him; he could tell Hermione was suffering, but she focused her mind and held onto his hand more dearly, determined not to let go.

Finally the snake disappeared, and left behind a strange, warm feeling, a comfortable aura that surrounded Harry's hand. Hermione let go, stood up, and took a few paces backward. Her breathing was abnormal; she seemed frightened, as though she was not sure if whether she had just done had worked properly; however, Harry could tell she had the same feeling in her hand, and that feeling seemed to tell her that she had done the right thing.

"C'mon," Ron urged, "let's go." He climbed out the window.

Hermione followed, but then she turned suddenly, and began moving closer to Harry once again. Quickly, she leaned closer, kissed him on his cheek, whispered, "Happy Birthday, Harry," dashed to the window, and disappeared.

Harry awoke at once.

It was morning. Both his mind and heart were racing. It couldn't have been real; when the dream ended it was still night, he could remember the cold wind blowing through the open window... the window!

He scrambled out of bed and tried to stick his head out the window, but his forehead crashed into the glass and he staggered back, nearly falling over. The window wasn't open, and showed no signs of being forced open either.

Rubbing his head, he scanned the room. His eyes stopped when they met the locket, which was on his desk, exactly as he had left it before; not only was it in the exact same position, but also it was closed.

Next, Harry inspected his hand closely. It neither looked different nor felt different. But what was that warm aura he had felt earlier? Maybe it really was, just a dream?

There was one more thing to check. Slowly, Harry raised his hand and touched his cheek. Instantly, his hand began to warm. The aura grew so strongly and quickly that it shocked him and he instantly let go. The feeling disappeared immediately.

He had little time to think on the matter as he heard the doorbell ring, and Vernon shout coldly, "Your friends are here."