THE gift From Death Year 4

Chapter 8: Fourth year Part 1

15, August. 1998...

"Right this is just afer a dream I had." Harry explained as Minerva handed the pensive to him, "It's one night during the summer and it's the start of many odd and often restless nights." he put the memory in when he'd finished talking and it started as soon as he sat down.

Harry lay flat on his back, breathing hard as though he had been running. He had awoken from a vivid dream with his hands pressed over his face. The old scar on his forehead, which was shaped like a bolt of lightning, was burning beneath his fingers as though someone had just pressed a white-hot wire to his skin.

"Why did it burn like that?" James asked.

Harry raised an eyebrow from where he was sitting on the floor, both Jinx and Jex on his knee, "Just watch and you'll find out."

He sat up, one hand still on his scar, the other hand reaching out in the darkness for his glasses, which were on the bedside table. He put them on and his bedroom came into clearer focus, lit by a faint, misty orange light that was filtering through the curtains from the street lamp outside the window.

Harry ran his fingers over the scar again. It was still painful.

Harry smiled at the thought of his scar no longer troubling him, Voldemort was gone now.

He turned on the lamp beside him, scrambled out of bed, crossed the room, opened his wardrobe, and peered into the mirror on the inside of the door. A skinny boy of fourteen looked back at him, his bright green eyes puzzled under his untidy black hair. He examined the lightning-bolt scar of his reflection more closely. It looked normal, but it was still stinging.

Harry tried to recall what he had been dreaming about before he had awoken. It had seemed so real... There had been two people he knew and one he didn't... He concentrated hard, frowning, trying to remember... The dim picture of a darkened room came to him... There had been a snake on a hearth rug... a small man called Peter, nicknamed Wormtail... and a cold, high voice... the voice of Lord Voldemort. Harry felt as though an ice cube had slipped down into his stomach at the very thought...

"Voldemort? He couldn't have been there." Petunia frowned, "The wards would have protected you."

"I never knew what exactly the wards did." Harry shrugged, "I wasn't told until my 5th year."

"Who told you?" Remus asked.

"The Order of the Phoenix." he admitted.

"So you had no idea until you were 15?" Dora snorted.

"Absolutely none. I knew they were there, just not what they were or what they did."

"How did you know they were there?" James asked.

"Easy. Don't you think if there weren't any wards there I would be alive right now? With the Death Eaters that were still loose?"

"Good point. The answer to that would be no, you wouldn't." Cissy frowned, "I know a few of them spoke of kidnapping you and raising you dark others just wanted you dead." she explained.

"Thank Merlin the wards were there then." Ginny smiled. "I like you better when you're not Dark." she teased Harry.

"I prefer not being Dark too funnily enough." he chuckled.