New Player Year 4
The Gathering Dark
Harry gasped as he sat up; his scar burning beneath his fingers like someone had just pressed white hot metal to his skin. He reached out to his bedside table, and was met halfway by the nudge of another hand, holding his glasses out for him. "Harry, what's wrong?"
Harry looked across the darkness at his best friend, Faykan Undol. Faykan was kneeling on his bed, having been awoken by Harry's gasp of pain, and had crossed the tiny space between their beds to investigate. "My scar…" Harry replied quietly, "It's burning..." Despite the Dursleys being utterly terrified of Faykan, whose true name they still were unaware of, they were still prone to complaints if awoken earlier than they liked, and Harry preferred to keep the animosity at low levels.
"Like back in first year?" Faykan asked, edging closer to Harry across the bed, pressing his cool hand against Harry's burning head; it relieved the pain slightly. Harry turned the light on the far bedside table on and placed his glasses on his nose, which caused Faykan's face to come into better focus. The lines around his mouth were deep with concern as he studied the cursed scare on Harry's forehead. Harry would probably have turned away from anyone but him, refusing to let anyone, even Madam Pomfrey back at Hogwarts, inspect it. But he always had a soft spot for Faykan, a certain allowance that his friend used to his advantage most shamelessly.
Harry smirked as Faykan stroked the small stubble of hair that had begun to grow around his face over the last month in thought. "Do you remember what you were dreaming about when it began to burn?" he asked. Harry tried to recall the dream, it had seemed so real at the time… he concentrated hard, frowning, trying to remember…
"Partially," he replied as the images returned. Faykan nodded, accepting that Harry had lost some of the information upon waking, and turned to sit next to him on Harry's bed, "I think, you should write to Sirius about this. He asked to be informed if anything important happened, and if your scar burned it can't be anything good."
Harry nodded, he had been thinking the same thing himself, running through a list people he could ask for advise, as Faykan had already affirmed his lack of knowledge on the subject. Harry leapt up from the bed, hurried across the room, and sat down at his desk; he pulled a piece of parchment toward him, loaded his eagle-feather quill with ink, wrote 'Dear Sirius,' then paused, wondering how best to phrase his problem, still marveling at the fact that he hadn't thought of Sirius straight away like Faykan had. But then, perhaps it wasn't so surprising… after all, he had only found out that Sirius was his godfather two months ago.
Harry dipped his quill and decided to just write out what he was thinking, and forget wording for the moment.
Thanks for your last letter. That bird was enormous; it could hardly get through my window. Things are the same as usual here. Dudley's diet isn't going too well. My aunt found him smuggling doughnuts into his room yesterday. They told him they'd have to cut his pocket money if he keeps doing it, so he got really angry and chucked his PlayStation out of the window. That's a sort of computer thing you can play games on. Bit stupid really, now he hasn't even got Mega-Mutilation Part Three to take his mind off things.
I'm okay; mainly because the Dursleys are terrified that Faykan might turn them all into bats if I ask him to.
A weird thing happened this morning, though. My scar hurt again. Last time that happened it was because Voldemort was at Hogwarts. But I don't reckon he can be anywhere near me now, can he? Do you know if curse scars sometimes hurt years afterward?
I'll send this with Hedwig when she gets back; she's off hunting at the moment.
Say hello to Buckbeak for me.
Faykan sends his greetings.
Harry folded the parchment and laid it aside on the desk, ready for when Hedwig returned, and returned to bed. Faykan had already climbed back onto his but was still watching as Harry settled down under the covers. Without asking, Faykan began softly singing in elvish, weaving the soft air-like tones of the language into a sweet spell, dulling Harry's senses and carrying him back into the realms of dreams, thoughts of sea birds and large white ships dancing through his mind.