Hogwarts: Becoming the White Lord from Breathing

Chapter 165 Awakening of the Divided Soul
Harry's dream continues.

For him, the dream was almost cruelly clear, yet it also made him very happy—except for the initial orphanage scene which made him very uncomfortable, for a long time 'he' was quite well-behaved.

He enrolled at Hogwarts and displayed exceptional leadership qualities thanks to his intelligence and talent—his classmates respected him, his teachers liked him, except for that damned Dumbledore, who never trusted him! No matter how he pretended!

"That damn! Disgusting! Annoying guy! Does he have to keep staring at me like that?"

The voice of 'he' made a sound of annoyance, and Harry felt extremely uncomfortable—how could he have said such a thing? This dream was just too strange!

He wanted to wake up, but he found he couldn't.

Even though he had realized that everything happening now was a dream, he couldn't stop.

Everything happened too fast—in his dream, he quickly experienced the life of another boy—from childhood all the way to graduation from Hogwarts.

He learned a lot.

He was exposed to many magical techniques—even Harry now would be surprised to find that his magical skills in the dream were quite superb.

This made Harry less eager to wake up—the desire for magic outweighed all discomfort, and besides, it was just a dream, so what did it matter?

This naive belief sustained Harry—until he saw himself steal someone's wand, kill his own father and grandparents with his own hands, and he was certain it was 'his' father. Harry heard 'his' furious roar—"This is the price you pay for abandoning me! You filthy Muggle, may you and the worthless Riddle family disappear!"

"what!!!"

Harry screamed in horror at the sight! How could someone kill their own father?
He finally woke up from his deep dream—he found his bed soaked with sweat, and he was lying on his dormitory bed—his head still ached, and the lightning-shaped scar felt like a branding iron, burning him so badly that he felt like his brain was going to burn out.

"Squeak squeak squeak squeak—"

The annoying cicada chirping continued. Harry turned his head, instinctively searching for Damon's bunk—"Damon."

As soon as he opened his mouth, he was startled by his own voice—it was low, husky, and sinister, and his attitude was as if he were calling his servant—how could he have such an attitude?

What's even more terrifying is that he secretly felt that this attitude was appropriate—so as not to tarnish his image as a savior.
No, absolutely no!

Harry struggled to lift his leaden arm and desperately tried to conjure a gust of wind towards Damon's bunk—his understanding of spells had improved considerably after that previous dream.

"Drum drum drum drum!"

The purple curtains writhed wildly in the gust of wind, and Damon on the bed suddenly opened his eyes—a surge of magical energy.

In this boys' dormitory, who could do this? Who would do such a thing?
He straightened up, and magic had already quietly flowed around him, transforming into an invisible armor spell.

With a casual flick of his wrist, the wand flew into his hand—Damon got off the bed, looked in Harry's direction, and snapped his finger.

Harry's curtains parted silently, revealing him sprawled on the bed, his eyes wide open, breathing slowly and desperately.

"What's the matter with you, Harry?"

Harry felt a hand on his head—whether it was in his mind or not, he felt his burning brain become much clearer, but he still couldn't speak.

Harry felt the pain radiating from his brain was driving him crazy.

"what happens?"

Damon's voice remained calm, and Harry felt a cold vial pressed against his lips—"Drink it."

Harry did as instructed—[Clarity Potion]—the name of the potion that had just entered his mouth spontaneously popped into his mind. But how could this be?
"Are you feeling any better?" Harry reached out and gripped Damon's arm tightly—"It still hurts, my scar hurts."

The headache seemed to be affecting deep within his nerves, so intense it felt like he was about to break down—now that Damon knew he was in trouble, things should be alright now, right?
Overwhelmed by both intense pain and a sense of relief, Harry fainted.

"So how long are you going to drag this out, Professor?"

Harry opened his eyes when he heard Damon's voice.

Looking around, he was already lying on the bed in the infirmary. There was no one else there. Damon's voice came from outside the door—the door wasn't closed properly.

“I think it’s too early to tell Harry about this. We shouldn’t tell him directly; he might not be able to accept this harsh reality—I was planning to let him realize it gradually on his own, sigh.”

Are they talking about me?
Harry heard his name called and his pupils widened sharply.

What things can't you accept? Why do you need to gradually become aware of them?

“Something has clearly changed that we don’t know about, and I don’t think it’s a good thing to let Harry continue living like this, completely unaware of what’s going on.”

“I just hope—to let him enjoy some more carefree time, at least not now—what good does telling him about the unsolvable difficulties of the future do for the present?”

“Harry is capable of handling these things, you don’t need to treat him like a child—forget it, let him decide for himself, how about that?”

"."

Harry could no longer hear their conversation.

His heart began to pound violently!

What on earth is going on? So mysterious, so terrifying?

Harry didn't think there was anything about him that Damon and Dumbledore should discuss—but if there was, it was his own business! He should definitely find out! And he had to find out!

At that moment, a dark thought uncontrollably arose in Harry's mind—had these two secretly done something to betray him?

Harry was startled by his own thought and even felt guilty—how could he have such a thought?

Such thoughts are simply wrong to even contemplate.

"clatter."

He tiptoed off the bed and cautiously approached the door—still no sound, as if Damon and Dumbledore had already left to discuss things elsewhere.

So, should I follow up and figure it out myself?
Dumbledore didn't want to know now, and Damon thought he could handle it—who cares, why think so much!
Since this matter concerns him, he should find out the truth!

Harry steeled himself and walked straight out the door, then stood there, stunned.

It turned out that Damon and Dumbledore hadn't left—the two were standing to the side of the door, quietly watching him.

Harry caught a glimpse of Dumbledore staring at him out of the corner of his eye, his expression complex—he instinctively avoided Dumbledore's gaze and looked instead at Damon—who was also looking at him, but with a smile.

"See? I told you he'd come out."

(End of this chapter)