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Dreams are mysterious things.
Sometimes they reveal the future, just as Harry had once experienced. Other times, they bridge the gap between souls, allowing everything unattainable in the waking world to unfold in a hazy slumber.
Most dreams are bizarre and utterly unpredictable. But to the bringer of good luck in the Borderland...
Dreams are just fluffy little orbs.
The Borderland was blanketed in a sea of white mist today, as always. The black cat padded through the familiar fog until it located that particular dream orb.
The black cat rarely looked into other people's dreams—it had no desire to pry into a wizard's hidden heart. But today was different. It needed to invite this dreaming guest out.
Inside that relentlessly rainy dream, the black cat saw a young Professor Snape. It also saw Spinner's End—though the street looked a bit different from what the cat remembered.
In the cat's memory, Spinner's End was dilapidated, but it had never hosted such a terrifying argument. Inside the cramped house, a man roared in blind fury while a woman let out heart-wrenching screams.
And so, the boy ran away.
The black cat found him in a nearly deserted playground. Massive factory chimneys loomed against the distant skyline. Two girls were on the swings, while the scrawny boy hid behind a large bush, watching them intently.
The boy's black hair was overgrown. His clothes were so mismatched they almost looked intentional: a pair of overly short jeans, a ragged, oversized coat that clearly belonged to an adult, and an odd, smock-like shirt that looked like maternity wear.
The black cat's ears twitched. This outfit was even worse than what the kids wore at the Holyhead Orphanage. Young Professor Snape had a sallow complexion; he was short and painfully skinny.
He watched as the younger girl swung higher and higher, soaring far above the older one. His thin face bore an expression of naked, undisguised yearning.
"Lily, don't do it!" the older girl shrieked.
But as the swing reached its highest peak, the little girl let go. She soared into the air—literally flying—laughing joyously as she launched herself toward the sky.
Instead of crashing onto the playground's asphalt, she glided through the air like an acrobat. She hung suspended for a long moment before landing lighter than a feather.
"Mummy told you not to!" Petunia dragged her heels against the ground, stopping her swing with a harsh, grating screech. She jumped off and planted her hands on her hips. "Mummy said you aren't allowed, Lily!"
"But I'm fine," Lily said, still giggling. "Tuney, look at this. Watch what I can do."
Petunia glanced around. The playground was completely empty except for the two of them—and, of course, Snape and the black cat, though the girls had no idea.
Lily picked up a fallen flower from the very bush Snape was hiding behind. Petunia walked over, looking torn between curiosity and extreme disapproval.
Lily waited until Petunia was close enough to see clearly, then opened her palm. The flower's petals began to open and close on their own, like some bizarre, multi-layered oyster.
"Stop it!" Petunia shrieked.
"It's not hurting you," Lily said, though she closed her hand, crushing the flower, and threw it to the ground anyway.
"It's not right," Petunia said. But her eyes followed the flower to the ground, lingering on it for a long time. "How do you do it?" she asked again, her voice betraying a desperate, unmistakable longing.
"Isn't it obvious?" Young Snape couldn't hold back any longer and jumped out from behind the bush.
Petunia let out a scream and bolted back toward the swings. Lily was clearly startled too, but she held her ground.
Snape immediately looked like he regretted revealing himself. He stared at Lily, a faint blush creeping into his sallow cheeks.
"Isn't what obvious?" Lily asked.
Snape looked tense but incredibly excited. He glanced over at Petunia, who was hovering near the swings in the distance, and dropped his voice. "I know what you are."
"What do you mean?"
"You're... you're a witch," Snape whispered.
Lily looked deeply insulted. "It's very rude to say things like that to people!" She spun around, tilted her chin up, and marched off toward her sister.
"No!" Snape called out. His face was entirely red now. The black cat saw his hand twitch near his pocket.
The cat finally understood why he refused to take off that ridiculous, oversized coat—he didn't want to show the maternity shirt underneath. He chased after the two girls, his baggy sleeves flapping around him like a bat.
The sisters scrutinized him with identical looks of intense disapproval. Both of them clutched one of the swing set's poles, treating it like a "safe zone" in a game of tag.
"You are," Snape told Lily. "You are a witch. I've been watching you for a while. There's nothing wrong with it. My mum's a witch, and I'm a wizard."
Petunia's laugh was like a splash of ice water.
"A wizard!" she shrieked. The boy's sudden appearance had given her a fright earlier, but now that she had regained her composure, her courage had returned. "I know who you are. You're that Snape boy! They live down by the river, on Spinner's End," she told Lily, her tone making it perfectly clear she thought it was the absolute bottom of the barrel. "Everyone who lives down there is just common and stupid!"
Not true, the black cat softly countered.
But it failed to notice the tall figure standing in the shadows of a tree trunk, suddenly staring directly at it.
Instantly, the dreamscape violently shifted, collapsing into absolute nothingness. The black cat whipped its head around. Professor Snape was scrutinizing it.
"What are you doing here?"
Snape's tone was incredibly dangerous. He stared at the dissolving remnants of the dream before turning his gaze to those emerald eyes.
"Looking for you," the black cat answered honestly.
Snape froze for a second. He let out a cold scoff and didn't say another word.
His dream collapsed rapidly—the inevitable price a conscious person pays. In the final second, right as the dream shattered and they plummeted into the Borderland, the black cat caught sight of a pair of green eyes.
Oddly enough, they didn't look quite like the ones it had just seen.
Inside the stark white realm, the highly alert Potions Master constantly scanned his surroundings. He spotted a half-ruined Victorian building; the faded sign above the door read Children's Home. Along the stretching road, streetlamps flickered dimly.
Snape also noticed several houses with black cat statues standing beside them. He felt they looked nothing like the real thing.
"Hideous," he sneered.
Almost immediately, he seemed to catch himself. The statues were hideous because they failed to capture reality, not because the subject itself was ugly.
But he said nothing. He just let out another cold sneer. Even though he was secretly thinking, It actually bears a slight resemblance, the words twisted into another mockery by the time they left his mouth.
The black cat didn't mind. The Professor's tongue and his true thoughts were rarely aligned.
As the cat well knew, the inability to love was an acquired handicap—much like muteness. Very few people are born mute; most cannot speak simply because they have never been able to hear.
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