In Somnis Veritas

1

 "Let the feast begin!"

Eleven year old Harry Potter could barely believe his eyes as an array of food appeared on the table in front of him.

But as the other children around him began tucking into their meals, the dark-haired boy turned his attention to the teacher's table at the front of the Great Hall.

"Say Percy?" he began, turning to Ron's older brother on his left. "Who's that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?"

"Oh, that's Professor Snape – head of Slytherin House," Percy told him.

"What's he teach?"

"Potions. But everyone knows it's the dark arts he fancies. He's been after Quirrell's job for years," Percy said, glancing over at Harry again as the younger boy watched the Potions Master curiously. "Why d'you ask?"

"No reason," Harry said.

He was pleased when the ghost of a man appeared straight through the platter of chicken legs in front of them, causing a commotion and diverting Percy's interest elsewhere.

Because there was a reason he had asked, and it wasn't something he was entirely comfortable talking to the other students about.

Harry stole another glance in the direction of the stern-looking professor.

He had seen this man before – several times, in fact – in his dreams.

As far back as Harry could remember, he had dreamed of a dark figure coming to his aid. It often happened when he was most unhappy – when he'd had a particularly bad time of it with Dudley, on the anniversary of his parent's death, when he was sick...

The examples were countless, but each occasion had one thing in common - Harry would fall asleep and dream of that same dark figure. And the dreams had always seemed so real.

The figure – a tall man, dressed in black – always seemed to appear at the door of his cupboard. A warm hand would dry Harry's tears, or administer some form of medicine to help him feel better. Sometimes, it would stroke back his hair in a soothing motion that sent the boy into a dream within a dream.

The man never spoke, and always smelt of the same, pleasant scent – a mixture of sandalwood and herbs.

Harry had never seen the man's face but somehow, when he looked across at the Potions Master sitting at the teacher's table, he knew. This was the man from his dreams.

Harry's attention was turned back to the ghost, who had just caused another commotion by providing a visual explanation for the moniker of 'Nearly Headless Nick.'

And so he returned to the merriments of the feast and his new friends, thoughts of the mysterious man forgotten. For then, at least.

OOOOOOO