After HP shared the dream, Lao Fu was conquered by me

Lamia took Harry's letter before Ron. It was a letter he wrote to Sirius asking for help. Harry said in the letter that his scar suddenly hurt last night...

Lamia glanced over the letter with a serious look.

"Don't be like this, Lamia, I think this is just my hallucination, Vol...that mysterious man, maybe, I mean, it may just be my illusion, the psychological effect makes my scar hurt." Harry explained incoherently, and it was obvious that he himself did not believe what he said.

"Harry, I don't think this is an illusion." Lamia could tell Harry's true feelings from the general description in the letter. "Can you describe it in detail?"

Lamia folded the letter and placed it on the table, waiting for Harry to continue.

Harry tried his best to recall the dream. His face was pale and beads of sweat ran down his forehead. Everything was so vivid. There were two people he knew, and one he didn't. He frowned, concentrated his thoughts, and tried hard to recall...

He had a vague image of a darkened room, a snake lying on the hearth-rug, a small man called Peter, nicknamed Wormtail, and a cold, shrill voice—it was Voldemort's voice.

Harry felt as if a lump of ice had slid into his stomach when he thought of this guy.

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to recall Voldemort's appearance, but he couldn't.

All Harry knew was that when Voldemort's chair turned around and he - Harry - saw what was sitting in it, he felt a huge fear that made him wake up with a start. Maybe it was because of the sudden pain in his scar?

And who was that old man? There was definitely an old man there; Harry saw him fall to the ground. It was getting messy.

Harry buried his face in his hands, blocking out the view of the bedroom and trying to soak in the dimly lit room. However, it was like trying to hold water in his hands; the harder he tried to grasp the details, the faster they slipped through his fingers.

Voldemort and Wormtail had just been talking about how they had killed someone, but Harry couldn't remember the name, and they were planning to kill someone else - and that was him!

"what!"

Harry suddenly woke up from his memories, his eyes wide open, his lips cracked, his body covered in cold sweat, and he kept gasping for breath.

"It's okay, Harry, I heard everything you just said." Lamia patted Harry on the back comfortingly, then looked at Ron and asked him to say something too.

"Oh, man, this is surreal," Ron muttered. "Your scar hurts, but, but, You-Know-Who can't get to you now, can he?"

Lamia glared at Ron.

"I mean... you know, don't you? He might come to hurt you again, right? I don't know, Harry, maybe the curse scar is always a little painful. I'll ask my dad..."

Harry was not comforted by Ron. He was completely immersed in the memories and could not get out of them no matter what. However, the presence of Lamia and Ron still gave Harry a sense of reality, and did not make him feel like he was in a dream, always feeling like he was walking on cotton.

"Harry, Peter has been imprisoned in a cell at the Ministry of Magic. How could he possibly appear next to Voldemort? You are already confused. Don't think about it. Maybe you should take a nap."

Lamia looked at Harry and said seriously, then Harry seemed to have lost his soul, walked to the bed blankly and lay down, and actually fell asleep.

"What did you do!" Ron grabbed Lamia in disbelief. He couldn't believe that Harry, who had just looked so distraught, had actually fallen asleep like this.

"Nothing, Ron, Harry needs sleep." Lamia said casually, looking out the window. It was noon, and the sun was hanging high in the sky, making the ground as dry as freshly baked cookies. Lamia looked into the distance, then she turned her head.

"Ron, do you think Harry is dreaming?" Lamia said, "Or do you think it was just a dream?"

"I don't know, maybe, it should be. Harry has always been very imaginative. It's hard to explain if this isn't a dream. How could the You-Know-Who appear? Also, isn't Peter dead? Why do you say he was in the Ministry of Magic and was even locked up in a cell? Isn't he a hero?"

Ron didn't understand. He was like a bee that couldn't find its direction, buzzing around in Lamia's ear.

"It's nothing, Ron, you're right, it's just a dream." Lamia said. She didn't ask Ron anything more. He had no idea what was going on. Harry and Hermione had never told Ron what had happened to his Scabbers.

But Lamia felt heavy-hearted. She had a premonition that the wizarding world would soon be in chaos.

……

Lamia called Ern, who drove them both back to the Burrow. When they left, Harry had already woken up, and Ron kept reminding Harry about the Quidditch World Cup tomorrow.

"Harry, my parents will send a letter to your home. You must be careful and don't let those two Muggles see it!"

Ron rolled down the window and waved at Harry.

"Got it, Ron!" Harry felt much better after a good sleep, at least not so depressed anymore. He also waved at Ron.

The next day, at the Dursleys' dining table, Harry was served a grapefruit smaller than a quarter. This was all because his cousin, Dudley, wanted to lose weight, and Aunt Petunia thought that only if Harry ate less than Dudley could he be motivated to lose weight.

But Harry was not sad at all. Hyde brought back a big box from Hermione's house, which was filled with sugar-free snacks. You know, Hermione's parents were both dentists.

Mrs. Weasley sent their owl, Errol, to deliver a huge cake and mince pies of various flavors to Harry. Poor Errol was old and exhausted. After delivering these goods, he rested for five days before he recovered.

Later, on Harry's birthday, although he was ignored by the Dursleys, he received four huge cakes, one each from Ron, Hermione, Hagrid, and Sirius.

By now, there were still two cakes left, and Harry, looking forward to returning upstairs for a proper breakfast, ate his grapefruit without complaint.