Once Again, a Dream Behind a Curtain

"Ah!"

Harry shuddered as the biting cold wind jolted him awake in an instant.

He found himself standing in an endless Snowy Plains, where howling winds wailed overhead.

Sand and ice crystals carried by the gale lashed at Harry's face, causing waves of raw pain.

Wait, pain?

Harry reacted sluggishly.

Why could he feel pain?

It was not as though Harry had never had lucid dreams before.

When Voldemort had frequently harassed him last term, he often had dreams like this.

Sometimes Harry was the great snake Nagini; sometimes he was Voldemort himself.

When Harry was Nagini or Voldemort, he could feel excitement, happiness, anger, and even the taste of blood in his mouth. But he had never felt cold, never felt pain this real.

Shivering, Harry prepared to take a few steps across the frozen snowfield.

But the moment Harry took one step, the cold became unbearable.

He was still wearing what he had gone to bed in: barefoot, in thin pajamas.

With that single step, Harry felt his feet stiffen from the cold, and he could also feel himself rapidly beginning to lose body heat.

His consciousness, which had only just cleared, began to blur again. The muscles in his face started twitching uncontrollably. His entire body became painfully prickly, as though countless burning needles were stabbing beneath his skin, making Harry want to strip off all his clothes.

"Ha... rry... Ha... rry... Ha... rry..."

Harry felt as if he heard someone calling him, as though someone were anxiously calling his name. It should have been a hurried cry, yet to Harry's ears it sounded slowed down and stretched out.

"Ha... rry... Ha... rry... Ha... rry... Ha... rry..."

The anxious cry came again, accompanied by the faint sensation of being shoved, which also seemed to have been slowed