Grindelwald's Burden (Books 1-7)

122. The Will of Albus Dumbledore

He was walking along a mountain road in the cool blue light of dawn. Far below, swathed in mist, was the shadow of a small town. Was the man he sought down there, the man he needed so badly he could think of little else, the man who held the answer, the answer to his problem...?

"Oi, wake up."

Harry opened his eyes. He was lying again on the camp bed in Ron's dingy attic room. Ron was sitting on his own bed while Y/n stood leaning against a chest of drawers. Pigwidgeon was asleep with his head under his tiny wing. The scar on Harry's forehead was prickling.

"You were muttering in your sleep Harry." Y/n told him.

"Was I?" Harry asked.

"Yeah. 'Gregorovitch.' You kept saying 'Gregorovitch.'" Ron said.

Harry was not wearing his glasses, Y/n and Ron's faces appeared slightly blurred.

"Who's Gregorovitch?" Harry asked.

"We dunno, do we? You were the one saying it." Ron said.

Harry rubbed his forehead, thinking. He had a vague idea he had heard the name before, but he could not think where. "I think Voldemort's looking for him."

"Poor bloke." said Ron fervently.

Harry sat up, still rubbing his scar, now wide awake. He tried to remember exactly what he had seen in the dream, but all that came back was a mountainous horizon and the outline of the little village cradled in a deep valley. "I think he's abroad."

"Who, Gregorovitch?" Y/n asked.

"Voldemort. I think he's somewhere abroad, looking for Gregorovitch. It didn't look like anywhere in Britain." Harry said.

"You reckon you were seeing into his mind again?" Ron sounded worried.

"Do me a favor you two and don't tell Hermione, especially you Y/n. " said Harry. "Although how she expects me to stop seeing stuff in my sleep..."

Y/n just crossed his arms, displaying little emotion.

Harry gazed up at little Pigwidgeon's cage. "I think." he said slowly. "He's got something to do with Quidditch. There's some connection, but I can't...I can't think what it is."

"Quidditch?" said Ron. "Sure you're not thinking of Gorgovitch?"

"Who?"

"Dragomir Gorgovitch, Chaser, transferred to the Chudley Cannons for a record fee two years ago. Record holder for most Quaffle drops in a season."

"No." said Harry. "I'm definitely not thinking of Gorgovitch."

"I try not to either." said Ron.

Y/n just chuckled at this unfolding his arms. "We are forgetting something more important as it is. Happy birthday Harry."

"Yeah, Happy birthday mate." Ron nodded.

"Wow...that's right, I forgot! I'm seventeen!" Harry seized the wand lying beside his camp bed, pointed it at the cluttered desk where he had left his glasses, and said, "Accio Glasses!" Although they were only around a foot away, Y/n could only imagine that Harry was immensely satisfied when they zoomed toward him, at least until they poked him in the eye.

"Slick." snorted Ron as he and Y/n laughed a little.

Harry soon sent Ron's possessions flying around the room, causing Pigwidgeon to wake up and flutter excitedly around his cage. Harry also tried tying the laces of his trainers by magic, the resultant knot took several minutes to untie by hand and, purely for the pleasure of it, turned the orange robes on Ron's Chudley Cannons posters bright blue.