Harry’s lungs felt petrified; forgetting his need to breathe, he forced his mind to memorize every single detail he could see on the – dare he call it prophecy?

I’ll think about that later, now look at it!

No trees.

No houses.

No Dumbledore.

It was difficult to figure out anything specific, the only light accompanying Harry was that of the moon. There was a bundle of blankets to his right but he didn’t pay any mind to it.

The vision Harry was standing straight, his wand hand pointing straight down. He could barely see Voldemort’s face, but he observed that he was chalk white, with red cat-like eyes and the slits for nostrils.

Oh it’s Voldemort, all right. No one else deserves to be that ugly.

Voldemort wasn’t moving so Harry was convinced that he was, in fact, dead.

Harry looked over to the pile of blankets again and noticed that it covered a body; he felt his heartbeat thunder and his hands shake with anxiety, who was it?

Wait a minute. Oh bloody hell… It’s moving!

In his haste to prove that it was indeed Voldemort on the ground, Harry didn’t notice that his cloak was fiercely fluttering in the wind and that his body was shaking with rage.

Straining to see what was happening, he became aware of his mouth moving. He seemed like he was incanting a very long spell but he wasn’t sure because his wand did nothing, no sparks, no jets of light.

It looked like it was around midnight. Nothing else was moving. Harry couldn’t see if they were in a village of some sort but it was very unlikely.

How could no one else be there?

Harry was moving towards the body slowly, kneeling at its side. He was grasping the edges of the blanket, wrenching it open –

It was as the second task all over again but this time he was drowning in the Black Lake, the glacial waters clinging on to him while he could feel invisible arms stretching out to strangle every inch of him, passing him around further and further, tumbling down into the chasm below.

“Harry!”

He wasn’t struggling; he was welcoming the feeling of nothingness. No more worries, no more obligations.

“Harry, answer me!”

Hands were on his face, slapping him hard but Harry wouldn’t flinch.

“Harry, you’re in a state of shock. Breathe!”

A jolt of pain shot up his lungs, the fantasy shattering all over him and leaving him cold and in pain.

He didn’t breathe for so long that every time he inhaled, a hundred needles were piercing his nerves all at once.

Grasping his neck, Harry crouched down to the floor. Remus was standing near the crate, his was stance one of a calm man though his face betrayed him.

Burying his face in his hands, Harry clung on to the memory of the image.

The parchment makes it seem so real.

His eyes shot up.

The parchment… Where is it?

His gaze scanned the floor while he used his hands to pat for its crumpled shape. Harry’s vision was blurred for his glasses weren’t anywhere in sight.

He saw the vague outline of the parchment near Remus’ feet, he threw himself to reach it but Remus was nearer and far less exhausted than Harry.

Snatching it up, Remus then sat down next to Harry.

“Where did you find this, Harry?”

Crate

Remus’ expression remained bewildered; Harry realized that he couldn’t voice it out. He was just too tired.

He couldn’t bring himself to speak so he settled for pointing numbly at the direction of the crate. That wasn’t any use too for as he stretched his left hand, his knees gave in and he fell forward to the floor.

Thank Merlin for Remus’ reflexes.

Remus struggled with putting Harry into a sitting position.

“Harry, I can carry you upstairs but knowing you, I doubt you’ll agree to that.”

If Harry wasn’t so weak that a word would make him faint he would’ve barked with laughter at that last admission, so instead he settled for a faint smile.

“Being your father’s best mate does have its perks, don’t you think?” smiled Remus. “Mind if I mobilicorpus you?”

Harry used all his strength in him to put on a fierce glare.

“Alright then, carry you it is!” Remus placed his hands on Harry’s legs and back as if to cradle him.

Harry’s eyes widened, he tried to fight off Remus but he might as well have been trying to teach Grawp how to curtsy.

Slumping, Harry gave in and did his best to convince himself that he’ll still be able to look Remus in the eye after this ordeal.

Harry woke up in the drawing room, lying down on the couch next to the fire place. It was morning at last but the sunlight didn’t help to decrease the gloomy ambience of Grimmauld Place but at least Harry could see everything clearly.

His glasses were back with him though he couldn’t recall how he got it back. He also couldn’t remember how he got there, in fact, he forgot everything that happened after the watching the image in the parchment.

“How’re you feeling?”

Remus was sitting down on a shabby wooden chair; it looked very out of place in the regal drawing room.

Harry tried to sit up, his every bone ached but he forced himself to bear it.

You got through Cruciatus at Voldemort’s hands. Get a grip, Harry.

“I don’t understand why I felt so weak down in the cellar, Professor.” Harry was confused and embarrassed at the same time. The sight of Remus made him remember how he was brought to the drawing room.

“Well, I suppose that the lack of air poses a slight problem to your almighty Dark Lord repelling powers,” said Remus, grinning slightly.

Harry rolled his eyes. “What I mean is that I don’t usually panic like that. It’s like that thing was… cursed…”

Remus raised his eyebrow to say ‘you think?’

“Damn it, I swear Dumbledore’ll kill me before I even try to off Voldemort,” groaned Harry.

Remus laughed. “If this was a different person, I would’ve called up St. Mungo’s in a second. But seeing that it’s you, Harry, nothing is too extreme.”

“Where’s the parchment?” asked Harry.

“It’s with me. Why Harry? What did you see?”

Mentally sighing, he prepared to tell Remus everything he could remember.

“Urk... Ah, erm,” stuttered Harry.

“Em… Er… It’s…” said Harry, trying his best to force his mouth to form the words.

“Harry?” Remus frowned, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have forced you to tell me immediately. You go to sleep, you need more rest.”

“No, Professor!” Harry exclaimed, “I can’t say it!”

Remus’ brow furrowed.

“You can’t –”

“– say it, yeah! It’s like every time I try to, my throat closes up or something.”

After whispering all sorts of incantations, Dumbledore stared listlessly at it for minutes.

“It won’t reveal anything, Harry.” Dumbledore’s strong voice made Harry visibly jump.

Harry felt shocked, ashamed to meet anyone’s eyes; he looked down and tried to recollect what he’d done to make it work.

What’s wrong with me? Hah, Malfoy’d kill to hear me say that.

Shaking his head as if to clear it of Malfoy’s presence, he began to speak.

“I… I tried a few revealing spells that Hermione taught – er – used before… I think it was aparecium and specialis something, I forgot…”

Revealing Spells.

Summer.

Merlin’s balls.

Dumbledore nodded, waiting for Harry’s reply, “Go on, Harry.”

“Professor, I used magic! I – I – it was an accident! Really! It’s just – it was dark so I did a lumos, then I – ”

“Harry, I’ll take care of it,” said Dumbledore in a business-like manner.

Harry’s eyes narrowed. “So, this means I won’t need to go to another hearing?”

Dumbledore nodded.

Harry sighed in relief. “Wonderful, that’s simply wonderful.”

“Harry, the parchment, please,” Dumbledore urged impatiently.

“Oh yeah, um – I guess that’s it then,” shrugged Harry.

Dumbledore stared blankly. “That is all? Are you sure?”

“That’s all I did, I swear! The spells didn’t work – I don’t know why – so I got frustrated and almost pocketed it when it –”

“You felt frustrated,” Dumbledore didn’t say it in a questioning tone but Harry was too confused to notice it.

“Of course I felt frustrated! I finally found something that might be worth keeping and then it just blew up in my face.”

“What did you do after?”

“I don’t know I sighed and cursed a lot. Mentally, of course. I’m not that stupid to do it when Professor Lupin could hear me from the kitchens.”

Remus glared, “I wouldn’t have cared if you cursed my ears out; you should’ve told me that you found something dubious.”

“You sighed…” Dumbledore looked at Remus to interrupt him, his calculating gaze revealing nothing yet conveying full understanding.

“Permutatiano,” declared Dumbledore as he sat down on the chair next to Remus. Dumbledore looked ancient, his eyes fell shut as he clasped his hands carefully.

“Oh Merlin,” murmured Remus, “Harry, that’s really Dark magic. Pre-Hogwarts, even.”

“I’m sorry, I’ve forgotten to brush up on my Latin,” barked Harry, “now could anyone tell me what shite I’ve gotten myself into again?”

“Harry,” Dumbledore’s eyes showed his disappointment, “be careful.”

“Sorry, Professor Dumbledore,” muttered Harry.

Dumbledore swiftly rose to pace around the drawing room. “It is the darkest of exchange spells. You must sacrifice the most important requirement a man needs for the use of this object.”

That explains why I could only see it when I held my breath. Bloody obvious, Harry!

“Does it explain why I can’t tell anyone what I saw?” asked Harry.

“Yes, it’s similar to the Fidelius charm yet...”

Harry waited.

“The truth of your visions could only be revealed after it is fulfilled.”

They stayed silent for a few minutes when Remus spoke up.

“Could I borrow it, Headmaster?”

Dumbledore wordlessly handed it over to Remus as if it was just an ordinary piece of parchment.

Remus was silent for a few minutes. Harry was wondering if anything was wrong but when he listened really closely he could hear something very startling.

Remus J. Lupin was crying. He was sobbing silently yet tears were flowing freely down both of his cheeks. Choking back on more tears, Remus willed himself to close his eyes and shut himself out from the rest of the world.

“Professor Lupin? Er…” whispered Harry, he was unsure on how to go about trying to talk to Remus. He wasn’t very good with anyone crying, experience alone proved him that, yet, this was Remus. He should know what to say.

But I don’t.

As Harry was about to stand, Remus beat him to it. “Excuse me for a moment; I think I hear someone at the door.” Remus sprinted to the door, leaving behind the parchment on his now empty chair.

There wasn’t anyone at the door of course, but Harry knew better than to point that out.

“Um, Professor Dumbledore,” said Harry, eager to relieve the awkward feeling in the room, “er… do you know anything else about this Permutano - whatsit spell?”

“Permutatiano,” corrected Dumbledore.

“Er – yeah, that.” Harry shuffled his feet; everything just seems to go wrong when he’s in the room.

“No, Harry, unfortunately that is all I know. In exchange for the one thing that keeps you alive, it shows you a future event that you desire to see, happen.”

“So that means,” Harry’s heart was suddenly racing with excitement, “whatever I saw will come true? Everything I saw?”

“Most likely, Harry, however,” said Dumbledore in a grim voice, “it will be even more likely that it will ask for more than a few seconds of your time.”

“What does that mean, sir?”

“You will be required to sacrifice more than what you think, Harry, but what you will give up is, unfortunately, a matter which I have no knowledge about.”

Harry tensed.

Knowing my luck, it’ll be something really horrible.

They stayed in the drawing room for about a half-hour more when Dumbledore decided to get up and clutch Harry’s right shoulder.

“My boy, you’re needed at the Dursleys.”

Harry snorted; he knew that Dumbledore didn’t mean it that way but still, it was very laughable.

“Yeah, sure… Could I at least say goodbye to Remus?”

“You won’t need to, Harry.”

Harry’s expression turned curious, what was Dumbledore planning this time?

“I am allowing you to stay here in Grimmauld Place for the rest of the summer.”

It wasn’t really much better than the Dursley’s but at least he’ll be able to walk around and eat properly here. Not to mention, have someone decent to talk to.

“Thanks Professor,” said Harry, smiling genuinely.

He threw all of his important school things in his trunk. He rarely cared if it was well sorted and today wasn’t any different. All he could think about was the parchment. If it was real, and Dumbledore did say it was very likely, then he would be able to rid the world of Voldemort, for good.

Suddenly, he felt the urge to jump around and scream his lungs out. He didn’t; of course, he would’ve preferred to have his Uncle alive when he becomes of age. Having the wizard who defeated Grindelwald curse someone like his Uncle Vernon is highly damaging to ones reputation.

Harry heard the doorbell ring, Dumbledore never used the Floo to go and get Harry. It was the polite thing to do, Dumbledore always said.

Polite. As if the Dursley’s knew what that even meant!

Harry waited for Dumbledore to knock on his door and remove the locks with his wand. Uncle Vernon never bothered with helping him and that wasn’t at all surprising.

A few minutes (and obligatory glares) later, they were back in Grimmauld Place.

The afternoon brought about Hedwig with letters from Ron and Hermione. Ron was practicing his Quidditch techniques at the Burrow with Ginny. Fred and George were too busy with their new joke shop to play.

He missed Quidditch, of course. But playing alone was never interesting. He could get Remus to play with him but he felt too embarrassed to ask him.

Remus is too busy with the Order to play Quidditch. I shouldn’t bother him with things like this.

Harry resorted to daydreaming whenever he felt really bored. He could imagine what he would feel after finally having Voldemort gone and done with.

He was in the kitchen that night; he fancied a bit of hot cocoa but couldn’t be bothered to make some. Using magic to make it made it seem too sweet for his tastes.

Who needs hot cocoa if Voldemort’ll be dead? Dead!

Harry decided to pursue his second favourite hobby, making fun of Snape.

“Well, well, Mr. Potter, I see your stupidity truly knows no bounds. You’ve managed to rid the world of all its darkness. Now I won’t be able to live because I’m an overgrown bat who transforms into an oily-faced vampire when I wash my hair,” Harry snorted.

“Good evening, Mr. Potter.”

Holy shite. How’d he get here so fast?

“Professor Snape,” said Harry coldly, “I didn’t notice you lurking over my shoulder.”

Snape looked as if he ignored the last comment. “Having fun, are we?” smirked Snape.

“Yes sir, I am,” retorted Harry, he wasn’t in the mood to just grit his teeth as Snape insults him.

“A very typical use of your time, Mr. Potter; Merlin forbid that you decide to use your spare time to study something worthwhile.”

“It’s two in the afternoon, Professor,” said Harry, unsurprised at Snape’s chosen insult.

“Why, so it is. That might be highly irregular since I seem to have the recollection that you identify me as a vampire.”

“No, no... That would be wrong, Professor Snape,” said Harry, smiling as innocently as he can.

“Quite right, don’t you dare attempt to make -”

“Vampires don’t bite in the morning,” whispered Harry, as if trying to hide it from Snape.

His extraordinarily large ears make sure that he hears it though.

Harry almost snorted out loud though he forced it down with the thought that he doesn’t fancy offing Voldemort while having his ears taped to his face.

Snape glared. “Very funny, Mr. Potter; I dare say you and Lupin find the time to resort yourselves to this Gryffindor humor that you find so amusing.”

“Yes sir,” said Harry, “we laugh around a lot.”

With one last glare, Snape turned around sharply, robes catching in the wind for a dramatic effect.

Striding out of the kitchen, he left Harry alone as he originally was.

Harry put his chin on the table, smiling widely.

I can’t wait to tell Remus.

After finally making a cup of cocoa, Harry bounded upstairs to look for Remus.

Harry heard voices in the drawing room and decided to take a peek.

“Haven’t you bothered to consider the fact that Potter has a history for spinning tales deemed worthy of The Quibbler?” scoffed Snape, “I, however, am unsurprised at your stand on this. Gryffindors aren’t anything else but gullible.”

“Haven’t you considered that I might be telling the truth, Professor?” Harry strode in, grinding his teeth, the desire to call Snape names that might result in Harry going to wrack and ruin was welling up considerably.

“Have you heard of it Potter?” spat Snape, “it’s called ‘speculation’ for a reason! No doubt your shriveled excuse for a brain was severely addled when you tried to comprehend a simple thing as a Permutatiano spell.”

“Well have you heard of something called ‘shampoo’, Professor? It’s called that for a reason too, if you don’t know. It’s to wash the poo–”

“Harry!” exclaimed Remus, eyes overly innocent enough to suggest that he said that before, in a much calmer situation, no doubt.

It was all lost on Harry. Nothing could stop him now; not even a vicious Potions Master who can turn Harry to a pile of owl droppings in a second.