Having Nightmares

Harry's eyes flew open as he jolted awake from his sleep. He gently touched his forehead and grimaced in pain. The lightning scar on his forehead burned fiercely, as though someone had pressed red-hot wire into his skin.

Once Harry had recovered somewhat and sat up, his forehead was already damp with sweat. He looked around in confusion, his gaze settling on Ron, who was lying nearby and snoring.

What had that dream been about?

Harry had even recognized the two people in it. One was Peter Pettigrew, who was said to have died in Azkaban not long ago. The other sat in an armchair with his back to Harry, but Harry would never forget that cold, piercing voice... It had been Voldemort's voice.

The person in the armchair had definitely been Voldemort.

They had just murdered someone.

Harry furrowed his brow and desperately tried to recall more details. Right, they had seemed to be talking about something, plotting some sort of conspiracy.

"What's wrong, Harry?"

Sirius's voice sounded beside him.

"I had a nightmare."

Harry was still gently rubbing the scar on his forehead, trying to ease the pain it caused.

Sirius noticed Harry rubbing his forehead and frowned. "Does your cursed scar hurt badly?"

"Yes. The last time it hurt was because Voldemort was nearby."

As he said that, Harry uneasily looked around. They were at the Quidditch World Cup campsite, where there were large numbers of Ministry of Magic guards. Voldemort clearly could not be nearby.

Sirius fell silent, and Harry had no idea what he was thinking.

"What did you dream about?" he suddenly asked.

"I dreamed about Voldemort and Peter. They were murdering someone, and they seemed to be plotting some kind of conspiracy." Harry lowered his voice as he described what he had seen