Harry lay upright on the bed, breathing heavily, as if he had just finished a half-hour run in physical education class. He woke up from a very vivid dream, his hands pressed tightly to his face. Under his fingers, the lightning-shaped scar burned with pain, as if someone were pressing a white-hot metal wire against his skin.
He sat up, covering the scar with one hand, and rubbing the eyes that had been rubbed off by the quilt with the other hand in the dark. He put on his eyes and the scene in the bedroom slowly became clear.
Judging from the angle of the moonlight that filtered into the room through the curtains, it was already after midnight. After listening for a moment, Harry confirmed that the Dursleys had returned, and he could hear Dudley's deafening snoring.
Harry ran his fingers over the scar again, but it still hurt terribly. He turned on the desk lamp next to him and discovered that Hedwig, who had gone out for a walk in the evening to find food, had also returned. At this moment, the cat was sleeping soundly in the cage.
Harry noticed that Hedwig's paws were still empty and there was nothing extra on the table. This meant that Hedwig still had not received Sirius's reply. After a moment of silence, Harry put aside the disappointment in his mind. , trying to recall the dream just now.
Everything is so realistic, it's like being there
A dim room vaguely appeared in front of his eyes. It was Voldemort's voice. Although he had not heard it for two years, Harry still remembered it very clearly. When he thought of Quirrell and Bu, whom he met in the underground classroom in the first grade, As Voldemort took shape, Harry felt as if a piece of ice had slipped into his stomach.
He closed his eyes tightly and tried his best to recall Voldemort's appearance in the dream, but he couldn't. Harry only knew that when Voldemort's chair turned around and his eyes fell on the chair, he only felt a huge fear, He woke up with a start. Maybe it was because his scar suddenly felt severe pain?
There was a young lady in the room. Harry couldn't confirm who she was, but her name and appearance were like fine sand in a hand. The more he tried to hold it tightly, the faster it slipped through his fingers. In the end, , Harry could only vaguely confirm that the young lady had an outstanding appearance and a comfortable temperament.
How strange this is!
If the dream just now really revealed the truth, then how could such a lady get together with Voldemort?
And that old man
The time he appeared in his dream was very short, and Harry only saw him falling in a green light. If the old man encountered the real Voldemort, then Harry was almost certain of his fate.
There was a conversation in the dream, but Harry didn't remember it very clearly.
He only remembered that his name seemed to have appeared, and that Voldemort seemed to be planning to do something to him. It didn't take much effort to guess. Apart from killing himself, could Voldemort have any other good plans?
So, was what he saw real or fake?
Harry stood up from the bed. He drew the curtains on the bed and stared at the clean and quiet street below, bathed in the dim light of the street lamps. He gently rubbed the scar with his fingers.
The last time the scar occurred it was because Voldemort was so close. It was this that made Harry uneasy. His vigilant eyes roamed the streets. Is Voldemort lurking on Privet Drive? This idea is too ridiculous and absolutely impossible
Well, now it's time to think seriously about what to do.
Even if Harry didn't want to make people feel particularly weak or like to make a fuss, he could still clearly understand that nothing related to Voldemort should be taken lightly.
Harry paced the room, half-lidded eyes as he thought about what to do.
It's still the end of July, and there's still a little over a month until school starts. If I wait until then to tell the truth, I'm afraid nothing will change. So... but who should I tell?
There were two birthday cards on the table, which Hermione and Ron had sent in advance, even though his birthday was still a few days away.
What advice would Hermione give?
"Your scar hurts? Harry, that's not an ordinary thing. Hurry up and write to Dumbledore or Professor Brain. They will definitely be able to give you some insights! I'm going to look up "Common Magical Injuries" now. Maybe book There will be talk of Hex Scars."
Yes, Hermione would definitely suggest that, and Harry could almost replicate Hermione's whirring voice.
But to be honest, Harry didn't really think that the book could give him a clear explanation as to why the scar hurt. Even the person involved couldn't explain the relationship between him and Voldemort clearly.
Tell Professor Dumbledore
This idea lingered in Harry's mind for more than ten seconds before he was decisively thrown out. It was too ridiculous. He couldn't go to the headmaster of Hogwarts just because his scar hurt, even if that person was the trustworthy and lazy Deng Xiaoping. Professor Bullydo.
Where is Professor Brain?
Harry was sure that Professor Braine would not take his letter seriously, or think he was making a fuss. Still, he was reluctant to write to him. Last summer, a letter from him dragged Professor Blaine to Privet Drive, and the two of them also witnessed the death of Professor Blaine's father.
Harry didn't want to make Professor Blaine miserable every summer.
Only Sirius!
He is his godfather, an experienced adult wizard.
Harry reached the front of the table, looking gloomy.
It is best to consult Sirius. He really cares about himself. Moreover, he is still with Professor Brain. If Sirius can't come up with an explanation, he can also ask the knowledgeable Professor Brain for advice.
The only problem is that both Sirius and Professor Brain are missing, and Hedwig can't find any trace of Sirius.
Late at night, Harry worked at the desk for a long time with an attentive and uncertain face. Finally, he picked up the quill and wrote a few lines on the parchment he pulled out of the box.
Whether it is a human or a bird, being woken up while sleeping will not make you feel good.
Hedwig pecked Harry's finger hard, cooed non-stop, her eyes full of reproach.
"Sorry, Hedwig--"
Harry looked apologetic,
"I'm sorry to disturb your rest, but there are some special circumstances now and I have to get some advice. It's a letter to Sirius——"
Hedwig tilted her head and stared at Harry, cooing a few times.
"Try again, okay, Hedwig?" Harry sighed, "Try again, if you can find him it would be the best. If you can't find him, then come back as soon as possible. There is also a letter. It's for Ron. If Sirius disappears for a while, I hope to move to the Burrow as soon as possible."
Pu Ling Leng--
"We must find it."
Watching the white shadow rapidly shrinking in his field of vision, Harry sighed and muttered
There are three-foot waves even when there is no wind. This is a true portrayal of the deep ocean.
Without the pollution of Muggle technology, the mysterious starry sky showed its mystery to Amosta and Sirius on the deck.
The bright starlight shines on the undulating sea, dyeing the sea area the color of starlight.
This was the last day of the third week at sea. As expected, the journey to find Azkaban was extremely difficult. They did not have the specific coordinates of the island, and the direction of progress depended entirely on Sirius's direction to the stars. vague memory.
The throbbing at the beginning of the journey has long been smoothed away by the boring sound of the waves. Every night when the starry sky falls, Sirius stays up all night, frowning and facing the starry sky. Amosta, on the other hand, seemed very indifferent. He seemed to regard this journey as a vacation. During the day, he would read a book in the cabin, or quietly think about some issues while pretending to sleep. In the evening, he would Get out of the cabin, enjoy the cool sea breeze, and enjoy fishing comfortably.
Occasionally they will encounter some situations.
For example, some deep-sea sirens found that their songs could not seduce the human fishing boats that strayed into their territory, so they called out to the same kind angrily, surrounded the fishing boats, and tried to use those weird bone forks to pierce the cabin and let the two humans Buried in the sea.
Of course, it was definitely not Amosta and Sirius who were buried in the belly of the fish in the end.
"How long have we been out?"
The sea in front of him was unobstructed under the bright moonlight and starlight. Sirius squinted his eyes, trying hard to find a reference that could prove that he was not running in the wrong direction. After a long time, he pursed his salty lips, and there was a hint of laughter in his voice. Stocks are heavy.
Sirius did not expect this journey to be smooth sailing. He expected that they would drift on the sea for a long time, but in fact, they were lost for longer than he expected.
Before the summer vacation, Sirius had promised Harry that he would take him out of the Muggle couple's home as soon as possible, but so far, they had not even touched the shadow of Azkaban.
"Twenty-one days--"
Amosta, who was lying on the deck chair and admiring the endless night, thought for a moment and gave the answer.
This answer made Sirius's heart sink. It was Harry's birthday in a few days. This was Harry's first birthday after he escaped from Azkaban. Originally, he had planned to help Harry. It was a great celebration, but now it seems that this plan is going to be ruined.
The night was still bright and cloudless. But the moisture in the air gradually increased, and Sirius, who was already half a navigation expert, immediately sensed that a storm was coming.
This is a common thing in the sea. It is often normal a few minutes ago, but a few minutes later, it is raining heavily.
"Go back to the cabin, Amosta—"
Sirius shook his head in disappointment,
"I haven't found any new clues. It's going to rain soon. I hope Old John's ship can continue to survive -"
With that said, Sirius jumped down from the guardrail of the bow, turned around and walked towards the cabin. When he passed by Amosta who stood up, he saw that Amosta was patrolling the sea in confusion and did not want to enter the cabin. To take shelter from the rain.
"What's wrong, Amosta?"
After going to sea for more than twenty days, the two people accompanying each other had talked about many things. Now, neither of them had any desire to chat, and they spoke in a concise and straightforward tone.
"."
Staring at the rising waves of the sea, Amosta looked a little confused.
"I'm not saying it's good, it just feels a little bit wrong."
(End of chapter)
