BlurryDream
patreon
Chapter 656: Harry’s Dream
🕑 Added 2025-03-24 12:22:57 +0000 UTCAs Harry couldn’t visit Sirius, once he finished the cake, he found himself suddenly at a loss for what to do.
“What exactly happened?” Kyle asked, breaking the silence.
From the moment he was called to the headmaster's office until now, he had no idea what was going on. There had been no time to ask, so he had simply followed Dumbledore from place to place.
“I think I... had a dream,” Harry began hesitantly, speaking in a low voice. “I was doing my Charms homework when I suddenly fell asleep and had a really strange dream.”
“In the dream, I think I became Voldemort... Okay, I know it sounds unbelievable, and it’s fine if you think I’m talking nonsense...”
“I believe you,” Kyle said, his gaze briefly flicking to the scar on Harry’s forehead.
“Thanks...” Harry said, clearly relieved. “Anyway, Voldemort gave an order—to teach his ‘follower’ a lesson for trailing him. And then I... Oh no, Voldemort killed someone with the Killing Curse.”
“Who was it?” Kyle asked immediately. “Was it someone from the Order of the Phoenix?”
“I don’t know,” Harry admitted, fiddling with the cup in his hands. “I didn’t recognize him. I’ve never seen him before.”
Kyle frowned. “And then?”
“Then Ron woke me up. He said I was talking in my sleep and having a nightmare. But my scar... it kept hurting, like it was on fire.” Harry rubbed his forehead absentmindedly. “Hermione was worried and called Professor McGonagall. When I told her what I saw in the dream, she didn’t think it was just a nightmare. She brought me to the Headmaster’s Office.”
Kyle nodded, suddenly understanding. “So, did you hear anything in the dream about them attacking Sirius?”
“No, no names,” Harry said, shaking his head. “It was Professor Dumbledore. He used some kind of magic—something special. I don’t know what kind of spell it was, but he sent a message. A few minutes later, Mr. Weasley found Sirius.”
As he recounted this, Harry shuddered, as if reliving the fear.
He was fortunate that both Professor McGonagall and Professor Dumbledore had chosen to believe him. From what he’d heard in the Headmaster’s Office, Mr. Weasley and Moody had found Sirius just in time—he was being tortured with the Cruciatus Curse. If they had arrived any later... Harry didn’t want to think about it.
The thought that Sirius might have died felt like a giant hand squeezing his stomach. His whole body trembled uncontrollably.
Noticing Harry’s distress, Kyle refrained from asking more questions. Instead, he got up and left the tea room, heading to the shop to buy Harry a cup of hot cocoa. He had noticed earlier that they sold some.
However, as soon as he stepped out, he spotted two familiar figures coming down the stairs.
“Mr. Weasley... Tonks,” Kyle called, waving at them. The two immediately made their way over.
“Kyle, is Harry with you?” Mr. Weasley asked.
“He’s inside,” Kyle replied, pointing toward the tea room booth. “Is something wrong?”
“That’s good,” Mr. Weasley said, sounding relieved. “It’s getting late, and I need to take you both back to Hogwarts.”
“What?”
Kyle barely had time to react before Harry appeared in the doorway.
“I’m not going back,” Harry said firmly. “Sirius is still here.”
“But you’ve already visited him,” Mr. Weasley said gently. “And don’t forget, you have classes tomorrow. I’ll take care of things here.”
“And just now, Kreacher the house-elf came in.”
“But...” Harry tried to protest, but Mr. Weasley cut him off with a solemn shake of his head.
“It’s what Sirius would have wanted. He wouldn’t want you to see him like this.”
“I don’t care,” Harry said loudly. “I don’t care how he looks.”
“In any case, you have to go back,” Mr. Weasley said firmly.
Lowering his voice, he added, “Think about the Ministry of Magic. Sirius just got injured, and you came to St. Mungo’s. That alone is suspicious. Thankfully, Professor Dumbledore provided an explanation to cover for you, but I don’t think they entirely believe it."
“If you don’t want to be questioned, it’s best you return to Hogwarts now.”
Harry hesitated, his expression torn.
“Be patient. Just a few more days,” Mr. Weasley continued in a softer tone. “Come back during the Christmas holidays. You can stay as long as you like then.”
After a long pause, Harry finally nodded, though his reluctance was plain to see.
"Very good, I knew you’d make the right choice," Mr. Weasley said with a smile. "Don’t waste any time—head back early so you can get some rest."
"How are we getting back?" Harry asked. "Apparition again?"
"Exactly. It’s the quickest way," Mr. Weasley replied, "but we need to go outside first. St. Mungo’s, like Hogwarts, prohibits Apparition."
"Wait a minute," Harry said, frowning. "But we just Apparated here."
"I’m not sure how that happened—maybe Dumbledore used a different method. I certainly don’t know of one," Mr. Weasley admitted. "Dumbledore had intended to take you back himself, but he’s dealing with the Ministry of Magic right now and couldn’t leave. That’s why he asked us to escort you."
"Tonks, you lead the way. If there are any Ministry officials, give us a warning," he added.
Tonks didn’t seem particularly cheerful—her straw-like orange hair was a clear indicator of her mood—but she nodded at Mr. Weasley’s instructions and started walking ahead.
"Alright, let’s get moving," Mr. Weasley urged, waving Harry and Kyle to follow.
With no time to waste, the group left the tea room on the sixth floor and descended to the waiting room on the first floor before heading outside to a department store with a "Closed for Renovation" sign.
"No one’s here," Mr. Weasley said, glancing around carefully. "Let’s hurry, Tonks."
With that, he grabbed Harry’s arm and vanished with a loud crack.
Watching them Disapparate, Kyle was reminded of the time he was carried by the Phoenix Apparition. His stomach churned just at the memory.
"Maybe I should do it myself," Kyle suggested to Tonks. "I can Apparate, you know."
"I’m aware," Tonks said, shaking her head. "But for safety’s sake, no. It’s illegal for underage wizards to Apparate, and if the Ministry sees you, you’ll be in trouble."
"But I’m in sixth year," Kyle protested. "Shouldn’t I be allowed to?"
"Not until after Christmas, when you pass your Apparition exam," Tonks replied firmly. Grabbing his arm, she said, "Now, hold tight—get ready."
With another loud crack, Kyle opened his eyes to find himself standing in front of Zonko’s Joke Shop.
Since Apparition was banned on Hogwarts grounds, Tonks had to drop him off here, just as she had with Harry and Mr. Weasley.
It was already two in the morning. Hogsmeade was silent, its shops all shuttered, and the pointed roofs glimmered in silvery moonlight. The peaceful beauty was a stark contrast to the hustle and bustle of the daytime.
The group began walking along the path toward the castle.
Now that they were out of earshot, Tonks turned to Harry, her curiosity piqued. "You don’t happen to have any Seer blood in your family, do you?" she asked. "Or maybe a famous prophet somewhere in your lineage?"
"No," Harry replied quickly. "And I don’t think it was a prophecy."
"Fair point," Tonks mused. "You weren’t seeing the future—just what was happening at the time. It’s a bit different. Still, it’s strange. Do you have any other special talents?"
In the wizarding world, it wasn’t unheard of for someone to be born with rare magical abilities. Tonks herself was a Metamorphmagus, able to alter her appearance at will, a talent as natural to her as breathing. She wondered if Harry might have something similar.
"I don’t know," Harry said shortly, clearly unwilling to continue the discussion.
The truth was, he didn’t want to think about it. In the dream, he had become Voldemort. The memory made him feel sick to his stomach. If that was a "talent," it was one he could do without.
Thankfully, they had reached the Hogwarts gates.
Mr. Weasley stopped, not going any farther. "You’ll be safe here," he said. "We can’t stay away from St. Mungo’s for long. See you at Christmas break."
"See you," Kyle and Harry replied.
Once the two boys had entered the gates, Mr. Weasley and Tonks Disapparated with a crack.
The school grounds were as silent as Hogsmeade. Together, Kyle and Harry crossed the grounds and climbed the stone steps to the oak doors of the castle.
The doors were locked, but that wasn’t a problem. Kyle pulled out his wand and easily opened a crack.
"Over here, Mrs. Norris..."
Filch’s grating voice echoed from upstairs, sounding especially harsh in the stillness of the castle.
"Shit, it’s Filch..." Harry muttered nervously, glancing upward. "Do you think he’ll notice we’re not in our dormitories?"
"Don’t worry," Kyle said reassuringly. "Filch can’t go through the dormitories to check who’s missing from bed. It’s probably just his usual nighttime inspection. Do you have your Invisibility Cloak with you?"
"No," Harry admitted, shaking his head. He’d been taken straight from his bed to the Headmaster’s Office, barely managing to grab his robe on the way. There hadn’t been any chance to bring the cloak.
"What about the Disillusionment Charm? Do you know it?" Kyle asked. "It’ll work just as well."
"What charm?" Harry blinked in confusion.
"Never mind, forget it," Kyle said quickly. "Look, just follow me. I’ll take you back to the Gryffindor common room."
"You’ll take me back?" Harry said, a thought suddenly striking him. "Oh, I almost forgot—you’ve got an Invisibility Cloak too!"
"No, there’s no need for that," Kyle said with a grin. "You just need to follow me. Keep some distance, but not too much. Just like at St. Mungo’s."
"No, no!" Harry protested, shaking his head vehemently.
The Hufflepuff common room was near the entrance hall, meaning Kyle could easily head there first without risking going upstairs. If they were caught, only Harry would be in trouble.
But before Harry could argue further, Kyle had already taken the lead, striding confidently up the stairs.
Harry’s heart leapt into his throat. From his past misadventures sneaking around at night, he was sure Filch would catch Kyle walking so openly upstairs, and they’d both end up in trouble.
Panicking, Harry followed, wanting to stop Kyle, but he was only halfway up when Kyle had already reached the second floor.
And then Harry’s worst fear came true.
"Ha, got you!"
The dim glow of an oil lamp bounced down the corridor, growing brighter as Filch approached, Mrs. Norris close at his heels. His gloating face soon came into view, illuminated in the flickering light.
"It’s me, Filch."
Harry froze, unsure of what to do. But to his surprise, Kyle’s calm voice rang out from above, completely unfazed. It was as if he were casually greeting the caretaker, showing not the slightest hint of panic.
Kyle had every reason to stay calm—he had privileges.
"It’s you?"
Filch’s face fell instantly when he saw Kyle. "What are you doing here?"
"The same as you, of course—looking for suspicious people," Kyle replied smoothly. "This is a task assigned to us by Professor Umbridge. The sooner it’s done, the better."
Filch’s mouth snapped shut. As much as he disliked the situation, he couldn’t argue. By Umbridge’s decree, Kyle had authority over him in these matters, and it grated on him. Lately, Filch had been avoiding Kyle entirely to escape the reminder of this unpleasant reality.
Now that Kyle had brought it up again, Filch clearly wanted to leave.
Even Mrs. Norris seemed agitated. The cat’s body was tense, ears flattened, as though bracing for an attack.
"What’s wrong with you, Mrs. Norris?" Filch asked, noticing the change in his feline companion.
The only response was a low, shrill howl and the scrape of claws against the floor.
Kyle had a good idea why Mrs. Norris was acting this way—it was the Basilisk. Just an hour ago, Kyle had released the Basilisk from his suitcase, inevitably picking up its scent. While wizards were unlikely to detect it, animals like Mrs. Norris were far more sensitive.
Of course, Kyle couldn’t explain this to Filch.
"I think Mrs. Norris may have discovered something," Kyle said instead. "You should check toward the tower. I’ll handle things here."
"Don’t tell me what to do!" Filch snapped, his expression darkening further. He glared at Kyle for a tense moment before reluctantly turning away.
"Let’s go, Mrs. Norris," he muttered.
The dim glow of the oil lamp gradually receded as Filch and the cat disappeared into the distance. Kyle, unfazed, waved casually after them and continued climbing the stairs.
At the corner of the staircase, Harry stood frozen in astonishment, utterly dumbfounded by how easily Kyle had defused the situation.
He had expected chaos, a confrontation, and certainly some sort of punishment. Instead, Kyle had handled it with a confidence that made the whole ordeal seem trivial.
For a moment, Harry almost forgot it was nighttime—the moonlight spilling into the corridor was the only reminder that it was still curfew.
As Filch’s footsteps faded, Harry snapped out of his daze and hurried after Kyle.
The two of them made their way to the eighth floor, stopping in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady. Filch never reappeared.
"How on earth did you manage that?" Harry asked, still in disbelief. "Filch didn’t even try to punish you!"
"It’s simple," Kyle said with a shrug. "I have special privileges. To capture your DA, Umbridge gave me free rein to enter and leave the castle at any time—even during curfew." He turned to Harry. "You know the password, right?"
"Ah, yeah," Harry replied. "Dilligrout."
"The Fat Lady’s tastes are... unique," Kyle muttered under his breath.
"Thanks, but I prefer marmalade," came the Fat Lady’s voice, clearly unimpressed.
Harry opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, the portrait swung open, revealing the passage to the Gryffindor common room.
"Harry, is that you?" Hermione’s voice called from inside, followed quickly by Ron’s.
"It’s me," Harry confirmed.
"Alright," Kyle said, stepping back. "You can go in now. And if you have another dream like the one you had today, make sure to tell Dumbledore or Professor McGonagall immediately."
"I will," Harry said.
"Oh, and one more thing," Kyle added. "If Umbridge asks tomorrow, just say the headmaster informed you that Sirius was taken to St. Mungo’s. Don’t mention anything about your dream. Nothing at all."
"I understand," Harry assured him.
