11

"Avada Kedavra!"

Harry shot up in bed, panting as he awoke from the dream. At least, he hoped it was a dream. His scar was throbbing painfully and his entire body was slick with sweat. The old man's face lingered in his mind along with the high, cold voice. He shook his head slightly, trying to clear such images from his mind and peered around his room, looking for anything to distract himself with.

The room was still dark, lit only by the strange orange glow caused by a streetlamp on the muggle street outside. A chair covered in crumpled clothes stood in one corner with his school trunk lying open next to it. His firebolt was propped against the window frame and on the windowsill itself lay his bottomless backpack along with the photo of his and Neville's parents who were looking worriedly at him at the minute.

Sighing, he swung his legs over the side of the bed, knowing that there was no way he'd be able to get back to sleep now. He grabbed his glasses and wand from the floor next to his bed and pushed his glasses onto his nose with one hand whilst casting a tempus with the other. Three in the morning; he'd only managed two hours of sleep.

"Coffee," he muttered to himself, running a hand through his hair. His descent to the kitchen was slow, as he crept down the stairs, constantly casting his eyes about suspiciously as if he were expecting Voldemort to jump out at him at any minute. Much to his relief, he made it down the three flights of stairs to the kitchen unharmed. Once in the kitchen, he busied himself with making a cup of strong, black coffee, delaying the moment that he'd inevitably have to think back on the dream.

And so he didn't notice that Sirius was lounged in a chair, his feet on the table and a book open in his hands, staring at his godson curiously.

"What's up, pup?" he asked.

"Shit!" Harry spun round, knocking his mug of coffee off the sideboard in the process, his wand snapping into his hand a second later. Sirius raised an eyebrow at the display.

"Umm... On edge a bit, are we?" Harry breathed a sigh of relief, stowing his wand back in its holster after vanishing the remains of his first cup of coffee. He turned his back on his godfather and quickly made another cup before taking a seat at the table.

"Couldn't sleep," he said, as though that explained everything.

"I see. And that made you this jumpy, eh? You're a shit liar, pup. Your father was the same," Sirius told him, taking his feet down off the table and leaning forward. "What was it? Bad dreams or something?" Harry blanched slightly and Sirius knew that he'd hit the mark even before his godson spoke.

"Yeah, I guess," Harry said, running a hand through his hair tiredly.

"Gonna tell me about it then? Or was it about Snape and Bill? Cos if it was, then you really don't need to tell me about it," Sirius shuddered at the thought and Harry managed a small chuckle.

"It was about Voldemort. He's getting stronger. He was talking to Wormtail about a plan, something to do with waiting until the Quidditch cup is over. He said something about someone called Bertha, I think she disappeared. They mentioned a faithful servant, Wormtail, the coward, seemed to be trying to back out of something. Then he killed a muggle, and I woke up with my scar hurting," Harry said, hesitantly. He knew he was leaving the most important point out, but he was reluctant to voice it, as though speaking it aloud would make it real instead of it merely being a dream. He wanted more than anything for it to just be a dream. Sirius was silent for a minute before speaking.

"We have to tell Dumbledore. Now," he said, forcefully, already on his feet and heading to the floo.

"What? But... but it was just a dream, right?" Harry asked, hoping he was right, but knowing he wasn't. It was at that moment that Sirius realised that his godson was still just a boy. He had gotten so carried away celebrating their reunion and his freedom that he somehow forgotten. Yes, the boy could drink like a pro and act the part of a man, but that didn't change the facts. He was a boy and he needed looking after. Oh, he needed to party as well, but Sirius would protect him.

"I don't know," Sirius said softly, "but I doubt it. I'm sorry, but I have to be honest and I think it happened." Turning his back on his godson, he knelt in the fireplace and stuck his head through to Dumbledore's office.

"Thank you for coming, both of you. You were right, Sirius, it's best we hear about this as soon as possible," Dumbledore turned to Harry, gazing at the young boy steadily from behind his half- moon glasses. The headmaster was in his pyjamas, having been woken by the floo call. They were pink and covered in gold moons, and Harry was having a hard time trying not to stare at them.

"Uhh, yeah," he said, finally ripping his eyes away from the garish outfit, "I guess you want to know what, umm, happened then?" He took a deep breath and recounted everything he had earlier told Sirius, pausing at the end, trying to decide whether or not to tell them the most worrying part.

"They were after me!" he blurted out, before burying his head in his hands. There was silence for the length of a heartbeat before:

"What?" Sirius yelled, jumping out of his seat, "you didn't tell me that!"

"Well I didn't want to fucking worry you, okay? I was still hoping that the whole bloody thing was just a figment of my imagination, and saying that imaginary people were after me sounded kinda fucking ridiculous," Harry retorted, hands clenching into fists. He was the one with murderers after him, so why did Sirius get to be the one freaking out?

"Christ, Harry, I'm your godfather, I'm meant to worry about you! This is exactly the kind of thing you're meant to fucking tell me!" Sirius snapped, oblivious to Harry's anger.

"Why?" Harry asked, standing up, "No-one ever tells me anything, so why the fuck should I tell you?"

"Because-"

"Gentlemen, please, sit down," Dumbledore intoned. He had been sitting so calmly and quietly behind his desk that the two men had forgotten his presence entirely. Though they were both fuming, they obeyed him, trusting the old wizard explicitly.

"Now, I understand that you are scared, Sirius, but yelling at Harry will not help things. And Harry, I know you are feeling frustrated, but we will try our hardest to give you the answers you need," he said soothingly, smiling when they both visibly calmed down.

"Okay, so what... what does this all mean?" Harry asked.

"I believe the dream was actually an insight into what Voldemort is doing at this very moment," Dumbledore only hesitated for a second before explaining, knowing that if he allowed himself to, he would come up with a million excuses as to why he shouldn't tell the poor boy in front of him. But he had offered answers, and so answers he must give, "You are linked to him by the killing curse that failed and it seems that as he is getting stronger, the link is growing stronger too, allowing you to see glimpses of his life, to see through his eyes."

"So... all that actually happened? He's really after me? And that woman... Bertha, what happened to her?"

"I'm afraid Bertha went missing when she was on holiday in Albania. With the evidence from your vision, I think we can safely assume that Voldemort was responsible for her disappearance," Dumbledore's tone was grave and the customary twinkle in his eyes was gone as he thought back to how many good people had been lost to his ex-student.

"Now, Harry, we have many things to discuss. We shall need to increase security around not only the school but around Grimmauld Place also. And I wonder if you have ever heard of a type of magic called occlumency?"