He shuddered and found himself lying upright on the bed, snorting and panting, as if he had been running.

The dream was so vivid that for a moment he even thought he was still near that dark room.

There were two men he had seen and remembered vividly, one of them was Voldemort, the enemy who had killed his parents, and the other had rescued Draco's woman from the Screaming Tent at the end of last semester.

He put his hands on his face, trying to cool down.

Beneath his fingers, the lightning-shaped scar ached fiercely, as if someone had just pressed a white-hot wire against his skin.

Harry sat up, one hand covering his scar, the other fumbling in the darkness to get his glasses on the bedside table.

After putting on the glasses, the scene in the bedroom slowly became clearer, and the light from the street lamp outside the window shrouded the bedroom in a hazy orange-red soft light through the curtains.

He closed his eyes tightly and tried to remember Voldemort's appearance, but he couldn't...... All Harry knew was that when Voldemort's chair turned, when he—Harry—saw what was sitting in it, he felt a great sense of fear and woke up violently...... Perhaps, it was because his scar suddenly became painful?

Also, who is that old man?

There must have been an old man at the time, and Harry saw him fall to the ground.

Harry buried his face in his hands to keep himself from seeing the bedroom, desperately soaking up the dimly lit room, however, it was like trying to hold the water in his hands, and the more desperately he tried to grasp the details, the faster they slipped through his fingers......

Voldemort and the woman had just talked about killing a man, but Harry couldn't remember the name...... They are also plotting to kill two other people...... He and ...... A little girl?!

It's Vio!

Harry lifted his face from his hands and opened his eyes, staring hard at the surroundings of the bedroom, all familiar to him: the walls were peeling and mottled, Hedwig's cage was empty—it was because he had let it out to have some fun for himself before bedtime, and the lattice tiles on the floor were slightly upturned...... It contained his school textbooks and letters to his friends......

Yes, that's right. He could, and did, write to Vio and tell her about his dreams, without fear of being questioned or overly cared for.

Vio would never have advised Hermione to consult stupid divination textbooks or bother Dumbledore for painful scars and a nightmare, nor would he have the same fear of Voldemort as Ron had - so be it, Harry jumped out of bed as soon as he made up his mind, dragged an inkwell and a quill from the dark grid, and began to write.

Dear Vio,

How's it going, how was the summer vacation?, thanks to Sirius, my aunt and uncle are no longer in my room this year, which is a very big improvement—but that's not the main purpose of my letter......

Well, I had a strange dream tonight, yes, it's usually weird, but you wouldn't guess it, I dreamed of Voldemort and a woman—you probably know her well—who had taken Malfoy from the Scream Tent!

I dreamed of her......

Yours, Harry

PS: You can too—ask Sirius what he thinks about this.

*****

Sigoness Santrill was very troubled this morning.

Although on the surface she was still demure and elegant, the action of stirring coffee with sugar was casual but with a musical repetitive rhythm, Merlin knew how much her long, slightly drooping eyelashes concealed her dissatisfaction with Snape and Sirius and Lupin.

At the beginning of the summer holidays at Hogwarts, it was a very pleasant time, she, Sirius and Lupin went to Finland together, and in the vast sea of her hometown, Sigoness drove the icebreaker herself all the way, feeling like she was back in the carefree girlhood when her grandfather was still there.

Immediately after that, they joined the busy preparations for going to sea, from potions to magic arrays, as well as adding all kinds of magic and enhancements to countless equipment, and no one bothered to think about other problems.

But that's no longer the case.

In order to participate in the quadrennial Quidditch World Cup, Sigoness and Sirius returned, but Lupin did not come along, and yes, because of this, when Sirius once again met from the main hall of Santriel House with someone who had stayed here to make up for Vio's lessons, a terrible magic battle was almost imminent.

The most terrifying thing is that Sirius and Snape fight by themselves, she doesn't care, but why does the war have to be on her.

Like now—

Sirius, dressed in a straight suit and with shoulder-length hair, holding not a wand but a delicate rose, walked towards her from the door in an affectionate way;

At the same time, Snape, dressed in a black robe, solemn and cold, with no expression on his face, walked down the stairs to Sigoness with a bottle of potion as usual.

Sigoness took a deep breath and lowered her head, silently raising her hand to support her forehead, but out of the corner of her eye, she still caught a glimpse of Sirius squeezing Snape maliciously, and then a flash of light from Snape's pocket hit the corner of his suit, which quickly ignited.

Sirius quickly cast another spell, and Snape took the opportunity to walk up to Sigoness first.

"Psychologically shady old bat," Sirius cursed in chagrin, not to be outdone, trotting a few steps forward to hand the rose.

Snape looked coldly at the crumpled rose roasted by the fire, snorted coldly, put down the potion and turned to leave, not even bothering to give Sigoness a glance.

Sigoness thought that the sample in the bottle didn't know how many raw materials it needed, and that she would have to bargain with others and not get the respect she deserved, she took her anger out on Sirius, and also glanced coldly at the ignorant "rose", picked up the medicine and turned to leave.

So the mood of the three people was very unhappy.

It is obvious that the unhappiness of the three people is like a circle, which cannot be unraveled.

Unless there is a qualitative leap in the relationship between the two people in this circle - either the good ones are difficult to insert into the third party, or the bad ones fall apart directly.

Sirius failed again, but not necessarily melancholy, scratching his head and throwing the rose in his hand to Vio, who was sitting on the couch trying to bury his head in a book, and whistled back to the room in the garden.

After all four were silent, without a sound, poor Vio finally sat up straight and let out a long breath.

She and Mickey, who had slipped out of the kitchen when they heard no movement, looked at each other with a sense of sympathy.

(End of chapter)