HARRY POTTER Book 4: Chapter 2
Chapter 2
THE SCAR
Harry wakes up suddenly! He has had a terrible dream. His hand is on his forehead. There is a scar on his forehead, shaped like a lightning bolt. The scar burns under his fingers as if it is on fire.
He sits up in bed. He is breathing fast. He reaches for his glasses. He puts them on and looks around. The room is dark except for the orange light from the street outside. The pain fades slowly. He touches the scar again. It feels normal, but it still stings.
He turns on his lamp and walks to the mirror on his closet door. A thin boy with messy black hair looks back. His green eyes are bright behind round glasses. He looks at the scar and frowns, unhappily. He tries to remember the dream that woke him up. It felt so real.
There was a dark room, a big snake, and a small man called Wormtail. And there was a cold, high voice - the voice of Lord Voldemort. Just thinking of the name makes Harry’s stomach feel very cold. He closes his eyes, trying to remember more. He sees an old man fall to the floor, dead.
He remembers that Voldemort and Wormtail were talking about someone they had killed. He cannot remember the name. But he remembers they wanted to kill someone else. Him. Harry opens his eyes again. His room looks safe and ordinary. But the dream still feels too real.
There are many strange things in Harry’s room - things that no ordinary boy has. There is a large wooden trunk next to his bed. Inside there is a black cauldron, a broomstick, black robes, and schoolbooks. On his desk there is a big empty cage - Hedwig’s cage, his snowy owl. She is out hunting tonight.
There is a book on the floor beside his bed. It is open. Harry picks it up. Pictures move across the pages - wizards flying on broomsticks, throwing a red ball through tall golden hoops. He watches for a moment, then closes the book. Even Quidditch, his favorite sport, cannot take his mind off the dream.
He pulls back the curtains and looks outside. The street, Privet Drive, is dark and quiet. All the curtains in the other houses are closed. No cats, no cars, no people - nothing moves. Harry sits back on the bed. He touches his scar carefully. The pain is gone now, but the fear stays.
Harry listens to the silence. Then he jumps when he hears a loud snore from the next room. It’s his cousin Dudley, sleeping. Harry sighs with relief. He is being silly. No one is in the house except Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley. And they never care about Harry - not when he is awake, at least.
The Dursleys are Muggles. They hate magic. Harry is a wizard, so they treat him like something strange and unwanted. When neighbors ask, the Dursleys tell people that Harry goes to a school for criminal boys.
They don’t want anyone to know about Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
They lock his things away. They blame him for everything that goes wrong in the house. And they never ask about his life at school. Harry knows he could never tell them that his scar hurts, or that he dreams about Voldemort. It is because of Voldemort that Harry lives with the Dursleys.
When Harry was only a year old, Voldemort - the darkest wizard in a hundred years - came to his house and killed his parents. Then he tried to kill Harry too. But the curse did not work. Voldemort’s curse rebounded and hit him, leaving Voldemort weak and almost dead.
Harry survived with only the lightning scar. That night changed everything. Voldemort disappeared. His followers ran away and left him. And Harry Potter became famous in the wizard world - the boy who lived.
At eleven, Harry discovered he was a wizard. He went to Hogwarts and met his best friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger.
There, everyone knew his name. At first, he hated the attention, but now he is used to it. It is summer again, and he counts the days until he can go back to school. Only two weeks left until he returns to Hogwarts.
He looks around his room again. Two birthday cards sit on his desk - one from Hermione, one from Ron. He wonders what they would say if he told them about his scar. He imagines Hermione’s voice: “Your scar hurts? Harry, that’s serious! You must write to Professor Dumbledore right now! And I’ll check my book on magical illnesses!”
Harry smiles. That sounds exactly like Hermione. Books and advice. But he doubts a book can help him. No one else has a scar like his. Then he imagines Ron’s voice. “Your scar hurts? But You-Know-Who can’t be near you, can he? You’d know if he was, wouldn’t you? I don’t know, maybe scars from old curses hurt sometimes. I’ll ask Dad.”
Harry shakes his head. He doesn’t want the whole Weasley family to worry. He hopes they’ll invite him soon to stay for the Quidditch World Cup. He doesn’t want to spoil the visit because of his scar. Harry presses his scar with his fingers and sighs. What he really wants is someone older, someone who understands magic, someone who cares. Someone like a parent.
Then the answer comes to him. Sirius. He jumps up and goes to his desk. He takes a piece of parchment paper and dips his quill pen in ink. He writes:
Dear Sirius,
Then he stops writing. He tries to think how he will explain everything. Sirius is Harry’s godfather, but Harry only learned that two months ago. For most of his life, Sirius was in Azkaban, the dark wizard prison. People said he was a murderer. But last year, Harry discovered the truth: Sirius was innocent.
The real killer was Wormtail, Voldemort’s servant - the same man from his dream.
Harry and his friends had seen Wormtail alive, but he escaped before they could prove that Sirius was innocent. Sirius had to run away to stay free. Harry helped him escape on the back of a hippogriff called Buckbeak. Because of that, Harry could not live with Sirius.
Since then, Sirius has sent letters - cheerful ones written from somewhere warm and far away. He tells Harry to write if he ever needs him. And now, Harry needs him. He writes a letter. Finally, the night is ending. Light from the morning sun begins to fill the room. Harry looks at the gray sky. It is turning gold. He looks at his finished letter and reads it again.
Dear Sirius,
Thanks for your last letter. The bird you sent was enormous! Things are the same here. Dudley’s diet isn’t going well. Yesterday Aunt Petunia caught him hiding doughnuts, and she threw his playstation out of the window.
I’m okay, but something strange happened. My scar started to hurt again. The last time that happened, Voldemort was near. Do you know if cursed scars can still hurt years later?
Say hello to Buckbeak for me.
Harry.
Harry folds the parchment and puts it on his desk. He waits for Hedwig to return. He doesn’t write about the dream. He doesn’t want Sirius to think he’s scared. He stretches, gets up, and opens his closet. The morning light grows stronger. The Dursleys will be awake and eating breakfast soon. Harry starts to get dressed. He still thinks about his scar - and the dream he cannot forget.
