Chapter 183: Precognitive Dream
It was nearly April.
Since their last serious conversation, every time Harry mentioned Voldemort, Draco and Ron would pretend not to hear him and refuse to discuss it further.
The weather was growing warmer and more humid, and under Harry's occasional inquiries, the three-headed dog — Fluffy — was still alive and well behind the locked third-floor door.
The only noticeable change was that Professor Quirrell's complexion had improved steadily since the night of their detention in the Forbidden Forest. He no longer looked pale or sickly, which made both Draco and Ron quietly question whether Harry's theory about Quirrell was really correct.
But April 4th was fast approaching — Easter weekend. The promise of a two-week holiday lightened everyone's mood. After all, Dumbledore was in charge. Whatever danger lurked in the shadows, they trusted him to keep Hogwarts safe.
Even Ron, a die-hard fan of Dumbledore, and Draco, the heir of a former Death Eater, found reassurance in the headmaster's quiet watchfulness.
Despite Quirrell's physical improvement, nothing else had changed.
As for Alexander Smith — formerly known as Ryan — he seemed completely absorbed in the joyful anticipation of the holiday.
He vanished almost daily during free time, caught up in planning Easter festivities with Penelope Clearwater and Kate. In the original timeline, Easter was only briefly mentioned, mostly in connection with Norbert the dragon's hatching in Hagrid's hut.
But now, everything was different.
Quirrell had already drunk unicorn blood two months earlier. Harry and Quirrell had encountered each other in the Forbidden Forest long before they were supposed to.
So, would Quirrell still attempt to steal the Philosopher's Stone in the second week of June as he had before? Or would he try to do it over Easter instead?
Probably not.
Despite the exams being two months away, every professor had already begun piling on the homework. Even a dark wizard pretending to be a nervous teacher had to grade scroll after scroll of essays. The sheer volume of assignments was enough to wear down anyone — even someone possessed by Voldemort.
And Alexander didn't want the holiday to be ruined by some dramatic showdown. He had subtly influenced things to ensure that Quirrell wouldn't make a move over Easter.
Even Dumbledore seemed to be taking precautions. Though he was aware that Quirrell was too far gone for redemption, he was still squeezing out whatever academic usefulness he could from the man.
And so, thanks to the subtle work of Alexander and the silent maneuvering of Dumbledore, the Easter break arrived — without Voldemort making any moves.
But for most students, the holiday wasn't exactly relaxing.
Only Alexander, Penelope, and Kate seemed to be enjoying themselves. Everyone else was buried under mountains of homework. Even at a rushed pace, it took three hours a day just to make it through the assignments by the end of the break — and that was if you didn't stop for anything.
This wasn't homework you could bluff your way through. Research was required. And for first-years, that meant time-consuming trips to the library.
If it weren't for Alexander's enhanced focus and magical efficiency, even he might have found it exhausting.
In fact, Harry began to wonder: Why hadn't he seen Alexander at all lately?
It was strange. Even with all the usual bustle, Alexander had completely vanished from the crowds of students buried in homework. And given how his presence tended to go unnoticed, Harry began to worry — what if Alexander had already taken the Philosopher's Stone and no one even realized it?
Oddly enough, Harry didn't feel too panicked by that idea. If Alexander had taken the Stone, he doubted the boy would leave Hogwarts. He seemed far too tied to the school, far too grounded in its strange, everyday magic.
And anyway — Harry still had the Resurrection Stone to hope for someday.
And if Alexander really did disappear... he must've gone to Atlantis. Then I'd just have to visit the Horror Tour Travel Agency at 59 Diagon Alley, and follow the route there... I'd find him.
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That night, Harry dreamed.
He was in a crumbling, dimly lit room.
And there — towering over everything — stood a monstrous, three-headed dog.
Fluffy.
It was huge, as large as a hill, with three slavering mouths, six glowing eyes, and thick ropes of drool hanging from yellowed fangs. All three noses twitched, trembling, catching his scent.
But it wasn't moving.
It just stood there, trembling, all six eyes staring.
Then a cold, chilling voice echoed in the air:
"Sleep."
The giant dog collapsed like melted wax. Its eyes dimmed. All three heads slumped forward in deep, silent slumber.
Then, from behind the beast, someone stepped forward.
Harry couldn't see the figure clearly. Only a pair of silvery-white eyes — impossibly bright, cold as a winter storm — stared back at him.
They were looking directly at him.
Harry gasped awake.
Breath ragged, palms sweaty — he realized he'd fallen asleep at a library table.
"Watch your drool!" came an angry voice.
Madam Pince stood above him, swatting at him and Ron with a feather duster. "This isn't a dormitory! Out — all of you!"
Apparently, he'd nodded off mid-assignment. Ron and Draco were beside him, equally startled.
"Harry, are you mad? You've got a mountain of homework!" Ron groaned, clearly irritated.
"Let's take a walk," Draco suggested, ever the pragmatist.
Harry looked out the window. The sky was impossibly blue — like the petals of forget-me-not flowers — and the warmth of approaching summer hung in the air.
But Harry had no time for that.
"I need to check something. We need to go see Fluffy," he said abruptly.
"In my dream, Fluffy's middle head had white spots on its forehead. I want to see if they're real!"
Ron and Draco exchanged worried glances but followed him anyway as he made his way quickly to the third floor.
Behind them, Alexander emerged from the stacks.
He had felt something earlier — someone's eyes on him.
After thinking carefully, he realized it had come from Harry Potter.
And then he'd heard Harry describing his dream — a dream that clearly hadn't happened yet.
A precognitive dream.
Clear. Detailed. Accurate.
Did Harry develop the Third Eye? Alexander wondered.
He considered something else — a possibility: perhaps, when Harry had absorbed the powerful love-based spell Alexander cast long ago, some part of Alexander's essence had imprinted onto him.
Harry had never shown precognitive abilities before.
Until now.
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