By the time Harry had finished the Christmas holidays, he had already completed all his homework and, therefore, Draco had too. It had been difficult to convince the blonde that it would be a good idea for them to do their homework and essays before the last day, but finally, after many grumbles and sulky expressions, he had managed it. Thus, his start to the term was as normal as the previous ones had been, though with the logical difference that this term would have to be much harder because of the OWLs he would have to take.
Even so, he began to work with great impetus, to achieve results as good as he had previously; so it was not difficult to see him either in the library, or not to find him at all... which was when he was in his own room studying or making potions on his own.
For everyone, it was incredible how easily the twelve-year-old teenager learned; his teachers were fascinated by the boy who always exceeded everyone's expectations. In fact, there were many voices commenting in the staff room on the incredible potential that the eldest of the Potter brothers had and what a fiasco it was that the youngest did not stand out as his brother did; Dumbledore's comments about the fact that Brian didn't want to highlight his abilities and that was why he didn't put as much effort as his brother were of no use... no teacher could believe it.
"Please, Albus!" Professor McGonagall used to exclaim. "I don't know why you defend Brian Potter so much, but even you have to admit to me that both brothers are completely incompatible. Harry, and there are no other words to say it, is a genius, gifted at magic. Not only does he have unparalleled skill and comprehension, but his raw power level is incredible. Brian, on the other hand, is just an ordinary boy wizard, with average abilities and powers, and a rather mediocre ability to understand."
"I have already told you that he does not like to stand out, and that is why he does not show signs of exceptional abilities, nor of an above-average power," the old Headmaster used to repeat.
"If that's what you're holding onto, go ahead. The rest of us don't think the same, Albus."
Those conversations were not exactly the ones that pleased the Headmaster the most, who had wanted everyone to feel a predilection for the youngest of the brothers, but he himself could not deny that Harry showed unusual abilities. It was for this reason that he was not surprised that just two weeks after starting the term his teachers came to him to communicate their decision to prepare him for his OWLs before his next Easter holiday.
Harry was also not too surprised to be told what his teachers had decided; the truth was that he practically considered that his courses only consisted of three months and no more... It wasn't that he needed more time either; in that amount, he was already learning enough to get magnificent grades, and on top of that, he was making time for other activities, whether recreational or academic.
It was precisely in the first weeks of school that he found an activity that took up a good part of his free time. Just a week after the start of the term, the young Hufflepuff began to receive letters from different apothecaries not only in Great Britain but also from other parts of Europe. Honestly, the arrival of the first owl from abroad gave him a good scare; it was true that he had sent several letters to foreign apothecaries; but always doubting their answers... In fact, the first response he received turned out to be from an Italian apothecary!
Even so, all the letters had the same points in common: they asked if he was a master of the art and if not, how did he consider that his product was of such good quality that he could think of selling them? It was a reasonable enough doubt, and the fact that they answered his offers, even if they were to question his quality, was already a sign that they were interested in him. Harry, on the other hand, considered it a great deal and came to the conclusion that the best way to get the necessary idea of his ability was to make several rations of regular Wolfsbane along with the ration of the perfected one for Remus and send them to undergo inspection... Of course, although young he was not stupid, and he understood well that if he sent them just like that, the result would be that the apothecary would try to scam him by selling his work, without him taking any kind of profit; So what he did was to charm the vials containing them so that they would allow inspection, but not sale.
He also knew that delivery would be a problem, because if he used the school owls, it would draw too much attention, and that was the only thing he didn't want... his last thought was that someone from Hogwarts would discover his very advanced potion-making abilities. So he decided to use himself as a mode of delivery, and each day he brought three to four replies along with a sample of his work. Of course, it wasn't all the apothecaries he'd originally written to who had replied, but fifteen had, and he had to attend to them.
As he imagined, none of the apothecaries who had received even a sample refused to buy the goods from the boy, such was the quality of his work. Therefore, Harry had to start preparing large quantities of that potion and others that might be asked for... a fairly big job that made him too busy, and he would have to lose a lot of his free time to be able to carry out his delivery programme... Counting that practically all the apothecaries who had placed an order with him were from abroad, the boy thanked his abilities as a phoenix and thus disappear in a burst of flames and reappear elsewhere.
The next few days were quite busy: studies, potions, Quidditch... The poor boy was so stressed that he could hardly sleep, and when he did manage a few hours of dreams, they were plagued by nightmares and bad experiences. The bad thing about all that is that he was quite reluctant to take any kind of help to fall asleep, since this kind of thing always used to be addictive, and that was an evil that could not be allowed in any way. It was fortunate to discover that Night's purr practically put him to sleep in a matter of seconds, and that these moments of rest were calm and relaxed.
Despite that, his friends were worried, because even if he could rest thanks to his cat, it was never in the necessary proportion, and besides, a cat is always too independent, and on more than one occasion it disappeared, and then his dreams were again plagued by nightmares... Besides, Night wasn't always able to remove bad dreams... There were times when they arrived anyway, although there was one that literally changed his life.
He had had a busy day and was very tired; the time was approaching when he would have his OWLs, and as it always happened to him, he had entered into a study frenzy in order to achieve the best possible grades. That in itself had nothing wrong; there were many who acted in the same way, the problem was that Harry had too many responsibilities, and with the addition of his potions business, at night he ended up so exhausted that he was barely able to reach his bed and get ready to sleep.
Harry looked around in confusion; he had no idea where he was... In fact, the last thing he remembered was barely getting ready to go to sleep after too hard a day, and now he was in what seemed to be a living room of what was obviously a family of wizards. Quite confused for the moment, he looked around to find out where he was, but another place in Britain, he didn't have the slightest clue.
A faint sound behind him made him turn quickly... only to find the door opening very slowly. A lump formed in his throat—where was he? What was he going to find once the door opened? He almost took his breath away when he discovered there in front of him was what was obviously a Death Eater, if he had to go by the black robes and white masks, and he had no time to hide! (Not that there was a suitable place right there either.) He was beginning to draw his wand when the Death Eater walked past him without paying the slightest attention, and the Death Eater following him didn't seem to pay much attention to him either.
"This is almost disappointing," said one of the Death Eaters. "From Muggles you expect it, after all, they don't know about us, but from our kind? Please! They know we exist!"
"Do you want to shut up!?" The second Death Eater murmured in a cold, impersonal voice. "You'll make them hear us, and don't call them 'our kind'... They're Mudbloods!" Nothing more...
"Lucius, it's a way of speaking," said the first. "What I mean is, they can also use magic, no matter how dirty their blood is. Come on! Won't you deny that you want a little action too?"
"What I want or don't want is not relevant... Our Lord has sent us on a mission, and that's exactly what we're going to do... Now, if you close that thing you call a mouth at once..."
It wasn't until that moment that Harry understood where he was... He was dreaming again, as strange as that might seem, since people are not normally aware that they are dreaming. He looked around trying to figure out who his new victims were going to be; after all, if he dreamed again of something that had yet to happen, the normal thing was to try to avoid it.
The house was so impersonal in appearance that it was difficult to tell who it belonged to; honestly, there wasn't a single photograph! For a moment he wondered if it was something done consciously to destabilise potential attackers... although it seemed that they did not doubt their objective.
So engrossed was he in his search and his thoughts that he was surprised and very startled when he heard a frightened scream. Apparently, the Death Eaters had continued their mission while he was distracted, and had gone upstairs in search of their victim or victims. Frightened, he followed the impulse to go up to the top floor and try to help in some way, even if his presence was of no use at that moment.
The scene that was found was that of a woman being systematically tortured with the Cruciatus Curse while the two Death Eaters laughed, amused by the poor woman's pain.
Harry saw the scene in horror, and without thinking, he threw himself at the Death Eaters to snatch their wands... but, he simply passed through them as if he were a mere ghost or spirit. He tried again, and just like the other time, he went through them... and for the first time in many years, Harry cried. What he had not done during the many years that his brother had mistreated him and that his parents had forgotten, ignored, or blamed him, he did in the impotence of being unable to help that poor woman.
He would surely have tried again to throw himself at the Death Eaters, but he was stopped by a pair of arms that hugged him tightly against a warm body. He didn't even notice; his eyes were riveted on the scene before him, and he wasn't able to notice anything that was going on around him. It wasn't until those Death Eaters finally killed the witch they were torturing that he realised that someone was holding him down and at the same time hugging him; Surprised and a little scared, he turned his head to see who it was: a woman.
Surely, at that moment, his face must have shown all the surprise and fear he was feeling; wasn't it supposed that even though he was seeing what he saw, it was still not real? No one had ever been able to see him, much less touch him, during one of his great visions! What was happening at that moment? And what was more important, who was that woman?
"Are you calmer now?" The woman asked kindly, to which he replied in the affirmative. "I'm glad... For a moment, I feared that you had lost yourself in the emotions. Tell me one thing, little one, why have you gone into a trance without your master? It's too dangerous... if I hadn't stopped you when I did, you would have completely lost yourself..."
"Sorry? What do you mean by losing me?" Harry asked, very confused; that woman was talking about things he didn't understand.
"Hasn't your teacher explained it to you? How irresponsible! To teach trance and not explain its dangers... some have gone completely insane!" Harry looked at the woman without understanding anything, and watched in confusion as she raved about irresponsible people. "Who is your teacher, child? Tell me. I think he needs to be refreshed in his memory about what should be done when teaching."
"Which teacher are you referring to, Madam? I have many teachers, and if you don't tell me what subject you are talking about, I won't be able to answer you."
The woman looked at him in surprise for a few minutes before she turned around and began to curse in a very lively way that would make more than one die of shame. Then she sighed and stared at him harshly for a few minutes in disbelief as she shook her head slightly. If that woman had not disconcerted him beforehand, she would have succeeded in doing so at that moment; he had no idea who he was, but he had managed to arouse his curiosity with his questions and delusions, now he just had to get him to explain himself once and for all.
"What's your name, child?"
"Harry... Harry Potter, Madam."
"Well, Harry, tell me the last thing you remember before you appeared here."
"Getting ready to go to bed, after a very hard and tiring day."
Here the woman again let loose a whole series of curses and swear words that would have made many of the toughest thugs blush, while the boy still understood absolutely nothing. Who was that woman? What was she referring to by all those emphatic speeches? And most importantly, how had he come to his dream?
"Not bad... This is going to be more complicated than I expected," the woman commented. "First of all, you must know that you are still sleeping."
"I already knew that," the boy said, looking at her intently, and before she could speak again, he cut her off with a question whose answer he should have received a long time ago.
"How?"
"Who are you? You haven't told me yet."
"My name is Ginna Piori," she answered. "And I'm the same as you, even if you don't know it. Harry, what you just suffered is a vision... you are a Seer."
"That is impossible," the boy assured. "To be a psychic you must have it in your blood... I mean, several of your ancestors have to have the ability to intuit or predict, and that's never happened in my family, at least as far as I know."
"And instead, that's exactly what you are... You are right to say what you have said, and that is why I think the Sight has developed to this point in the face of such a lack of control. If your family had had a history, they would have paid more attention to the signs, and as soon as you had shown signs of the gift, you would have received instruction, but in this way... Well, it doesn't matter, where are you right now?"
"At school."
"Which school?" She sighed despondently. "We're on the astral plane, Harry... not even a difference in language would represent an obstacle to being able to communicate."
"I'm going to Hogwarts."
"Great Britain? Mmmm... I already assumed that we were not from the same country, but hey. Well, it's the same... Listen to me well, the way things are going out there, don't tell anyone that you have the gift, do you hear me? They may try to use you without a teacher who can speak on your behalf. In a week at the latest, I'll be there, alright? I'll send you an owl the day before I show up at your school. LISTEN TO ME, IT'S IMPORTANT." After that, she disappeared.