Harry blinked. "Um, well I suppose you could Floo down here, sir."
"I'd really prefer to discuss this matter in the privacy of my office."
This matter? It didn't sound to Harry like this was a social chat. More like he was in trouble.
The headmaster sighed. "Shall I Floo through and bring you back, Harry? I understand you've had some concerns about traveling alone through the network?"
Hearing it put that way brought Harry up short. He knew he shouldn't have those concerns any longer. He'd Flooed just fine with Snape at Christmas, and though he had gotten burned during that firechat, Snape had claimed that traveling through the Floo would require less access to magic than the chat had. Which meant that Harry should really be fine to Floo.
It was just a case of deciding he'd do it. Of deciding to take responsibility for himself, he sensed. What was he going to do, put off Flooing until Snape got tired of it and tossed him into the grate? His father would do it, too, if he thought it would be best for Harry.
Harry could just imagine the fight that would cause. Far better for him to get over his fears on his own, he decided. It was time. Actually, it was past time.
"I'll be right there, Professor Dumbledore," Harry finally said, cementing his decision. He thought of going into the Potions lab to tell Draco where he was going, but decided that he was nervous enough without adding in an audience to watch him Floo away. Neither did he want to just vanish, either, so he got his Floo powder ready, stepped across the hearth, and then, just before flinging it down, called out, "Draco, I'm Flooing up to talk to the headmaster."
He heard a muffled reply, and then he was throwing powder toward his feet and shouting, "Professor Dumbledore's office!"
After the initial flash of fire, he spun away into darkness, tumbling past random fireplaces until the Network spat him out onto the headmaster's hearth. Harry sat up, laughing as he brushed cinders from the shoulders of his shirt. He was reeling, but not from the trip. It was giddiness, pure and simple.
He'd Flooed alone! He'd done it!
And he wasn't burned at all!
Dumbledore came from behind his desk and extended a hand to help him up, surprising Harry with the strength of his grip. The headmaster might look old and frail, but that was misdirection at its best. Harry finished dusting himself off, then settled himself into a wide, comfortable chair and took a sherbet lemon from the candy dish the headmaster pushed his way.
"So," Dumbledore said, pulling out his chair with a wave of his wand, and settling in with a sigh, "I imagine you've already realized why I thought we ought to talk."
Dumbledore, getting straight to the point? Harry had been expecting a few minutes of small talk, most likely over a cup of tea. At any rate, he didn't know why he'd been summoned. "Um, you thought it was time we did a little catching up?" he guessed.
"Harry," the headmaster chided. "Really."
"What?"
"How many times have I told you that you may come to me with anything?"
Harry took a deep breath. "I don't know why you wanted to talk, Professor Dumbledore. I really don't."
"Ah." Dumbledore appeared to pause to think, then leaned forward and peered at Harry over the top of his half-moon spectacles. "A certain Gryffindor prefect has been caught making unauthorized use of the Restricted Section. Does that clear matters up for you?"
Uh-oh. Harry gave a weak smile and tried to act at ease, but he could tell it wasn't working. That was pretty interesting, since if he was sure of anything, it was that if Hermione had been caught, she would have taken all the blame. She'd never have mentioned that Harry had put her up to it.
Harry had to mention it, though. Sometimes it was pretty inconvenient being a Gryffindor.
"Don't blame Hermione," he urged, splaying his hands on top of the desk. "I asked her to get me some books. It's not her fault. Um... how did you know I was involved, anyway?"
The headmaster narrowed his gaze. "The content of the books she had collected was highly suspect. To my knowledge, there is only one student who has been dreaming the future of late."
"Severus... er, I mean, Professor Snape told you about my dreams?"
Dumbledore smiled. "I know I used to rebuke you for failing to show him sufficient respect, Harry, but seeing as he is your father now, I think 'Severus' will do nicely. By the way, how are things between you? Everything going well?"
Now he was going to indulge in the small talk?
"Oh, fine, fine," Harry answered, deciding he didn't need to mention their recent fight.
As it turned out, what Dumbledore had in mind wasn't small talk at all. He cut right to the heart of the matter, pressing, "If that is indeed the case, why send Miss Granger to the Restricted Section to smuggle you out those books? I'm sure you're well-aware that Severus could get them for you."
"Uh..." Harry didn't have much of an answer to that. "I just wanted help with some questions," he murmured. "I started with regular books and when they weren't much help, it just seemed logical to..."
"You didn't think to take your questions to your father?"
"Well, seeing as he scored a Troll in Divination, no."
Another warm smile. "The two of you have been talking, I see. Good to hear, good to hear. But as concerns your dreams, Harry, perhaps I might be able to answer your questions?"
"Well, it was mainly one thing," Harry admitted. "Come to think of it, I actually did ask Severus this a while ago, and he didn't have an answer. But maybe you would. Do seer dreams have to come true?"
The headmaster pushed a bit as his glasses and popped a sherbet lemon into his mouth before answering, "Well, they wouldn't be seer dreams if they didn't, would they?"
"I suppose not," Harry admitted. "But... well, it's like this. Suppose something was going to come true, but the mere fact that I dreamed it changes that. Like... I dream I'm going to die falling off a broom, so I stop going flying. Can't I change the future if I know how to react to it?"
Dumbledore's voice went absolutely serious. "Are your dreams presaging someone's death, Harry?"
"Oh no, not at all. That was just an example."
"You're certain?"
"Well yeah. I wouldn't keep something like that to myself."
"I should hope not," Dumbledore sternly admonished. "However, I can't help but notice something alarming, Harry. Back at Grimmauld Place, you had no hesitation to tell Remus Lupin about your dreams. But now... I must think this surge of research means you've had more of them. Evidently they concern you, yet you've spoken with no one?"
"Yeah," Harry thickly admitted.
"Harry..." Dumbledore paused, then said rather delicately, "Your dreams are not just your own, I hope you know. When they touch on anything to do with Voldemort, or the war, or the Order... well, you really mustn't keep them to yourself."
Harry had been aware for years that his life wasn't his own. Maybe that was why he liked Severus. The Potions Master saw him as himself, not as some hero whose sole purpose in life was to save the world.
He sighed. "My dreams don't involve any of those things."
Stroking his beard, Dumbledore softly questioned, "Wouldn't you have said that before Samhain, as well? And yet though you did not realize it, your dreams were indeed informing you of matters concerning Voldemort. So how can you know for certain now that these latest dreams aren't?"
"Not dreams," Harry corrected. "Dream. I didn't have any for months, Professor. And now it's just the one."
"But you haven't spoken to Severus about it? Not at all?"
Harry looked away and shook his head.
"My boy... I think you should consider telling him."
"I actually have been thinking about that," Harry admitted, biting his lip. "A lot."