Lost. Harry Potter's sister

chapter twenty-four

Harry and I were stood alone, in Dumbledore's office. I had forgiven him about our row in the Three Broomsticks, but there was something else on our minds right now. It was strange. As we stood there together, it felt as though there was an electric impulse connecting us through our minds. It was something I'd never felt before and it was odd. I was curiously glancing around the all too familiar office, when there was a click and the large, golden door handle was twisted on the wooden frame and there stood Dumbledore.

"Ah, Harry, Olivia," he says, looking over his half-moon spectacles, a twinkle in his eye. "Shouldn't you be in your classes?"

Harry and I glance at each other, not knowing what to say or who should speak. I open my mouth to speak but I can't find any words. Dumbledore's eyes dart between us, in a confused, yet calm manner.

"Is there something troubling you?" He says, walking over to his desk, pulling out his gold framed chair and gesturing for us to sit opposite. We do as we are told and take a seat in front of his desk. I look down to my feet, unsure of what to say.

"Well, Professor..." I begin, staring blankly at the bookshelves that were positioned behind him, "We were in Divination, just now, and er- we fell asleep." I hesitate, expecting some sort of telling off, or scolding, but he merely smiled.

"Quite understandable," He says, softly before signalling us to continue.

"And I er- we both, actually, had a dream." Harry begins, just as awkward as I was before, "The same dream. A dream about Lord Voldemort, and he was torturing Wormtail. Voldemort got a letter from an owl and he said something like Wormtail's blunder had been repaired, and that somebody was dead. Then he performed the Cruciatus Curse on Wormtail and we both woke up- because it hurt our scars."

Dumbledore hesitates, merely looking at us. He stands up and starts pacing back and forth behind his desk. Harry and I give each other questionable looks.

"Er- Professor?" I ask, awkwardly.

"My apologies." He says returning to his seat.

"Do you know why our scars are hurting us?" I ask, equally as confused as Dumbledore seemed to be a few seconds ago. He looked very intently at both of us.

"I have a theory... though it is no more than that." He begins, a look of deep engagement in his face. "It is my belief that your scars hurt, whenever Voldemort is near you, or when he is feeling a particularly strong urge of hatred."

"But... why?" Harry says.

"Because you two and himself are connected by the curse that failed." Dumbledore said, calmly, "That is no ordinary scar." We both nod, signalling our understanding. "Did you see Lord Voldemort, himself in the dream?"

"No... just the back of his chair." I say, quietly, looking down. No one spoke for a while, it was clear Dumbledore was thinking things through.

"Professor... do you think he's getting stronger?" Harry says, breaking the silence.

"It is possible." Dumbledore says, looking older and wearier than ever. "But as I said, I cannot he certain of anything." We both nod. Silence fell between us, once again. I knew we should go, but Harry's curiosity got the better of him.

"Professor, er- earlier, we couldn't help but notice in your Pensive, a sort of court scene?" He asks, cautiously, clearly expecting some sort of scolding for being nosy. Earlier, while standing in the office alone, we noticed a sort of stone basin, with a glittering and swirling silver substance, inside. Curiously, we went to take another look, but we were transported into a court room, where Mr Crouch's son, Barty Crouch Jr, was being sentenced.