He had not seen Uncle Vernon since he had pummeled him, but Aunt Petunia had stopped by a few times to check on him. His appearance was changing. He could see his face was fuller. He started to walk around in his room, trying to make his knee get use to walking. He figured that he would have to limp for a while.
                              
On Saturday morning, Uncle Vernon was getting ready to go see Aunt Marge, who had not visited since Harry accidentally caused her to inflate. Uncle Vernon yelled something down to Aunt Petunia, who was in the kitchen. Harry could hear the suitcase bump as Uncle Vernon dragged it down the stairs and to the front door.
                              
"Bye Dudley, I'll be back to take you to school. Let's be on our way, then," Uncle Vernon said.
                              
"Vernon! You need to say something to him!" Aunt Petunia said in a hushed voice.
                              
"I don't..." he started.
                              
"Oh yes, you do! What if those... people... come here asking about it? Did you think of that?" Aunt Petunia rebuked.
                              
Harry heard a grunt and footsteps up the stairs. Uncle Vernon came through the door. His usual pink face was pale, as his eyes fixed on Harry, who was sitting on his bed.
                              
"Boy, what are you going to tell your... friends?" he demanded.
                              
"Is that all you are worried about?" he said quietly, keeping his temper in check, but he still had his wand out in plain view.
                              
"Listen, perhaps I did go too far, but you were out of line and maybe that taught you a lesson. This is my house and I will not tolerate behavior like that. Good-bye," Uncle Vernon said, stiffly. He was about to leave, but turned and growled, "Are you coming back next summer?"
                              
"Probably, unless Voldemort finally does kill me..." Harry scoffed.
                              
"I'm being serious!" Uncle Vernon insisted.
                              
"So am I. I've come within an inch of death every year at school because of him. I'm sure I can expect the same this year, too. Bye," Harry said.
                              
Uncle Vernon hesitated and said, "Bye, then." 
                              
He looked at Harry for a moment, who was looking resolvedly out the window, and left with Aunt Petunia out the front door. This left Harry in his usual depressed state. Was Voldemort going to get him this year? Who's going to die this time? he thought as he lay back on his bed. He wanted to stop thinking about it, but all he could do is remember last night's nightmare. Before long, he slipped right back into it.
                              
He saw Sirius slowly falling through the veil, but it was different. He was just watching it and not trying to save him. He was enjoying it. He was laughing, or was he? He looked beside him and Voldemort was there with a smile of pure amusement stretched across his deformed face. Harry turned back around to see Sirius fall through. Voldemort was laughing and Harry turned to face him. 
                              
He looked at Harry with his scarlet eyes and said quite plainly, "Couldn't save him, could you?" 
                              
Voldemort laughed loudly. Harry woke up with a snap. He sat straight up. His scar was tickling. I was just dreaming him, right? he thought, anxiously. No, Voldemort was there. I felt him. I was with him, watching from his point of view. What scared Harry more was that Voldemort, himself, had talked to him. At least it was what it seemed. He can watch my dreams, he realized suddenly. Voldemort had possibly found the power to not only intrude on his dreams as Harry had into Voldemort's, but also communicate with him.
                              
He could not go back to sleep. He thought of telling someone, but who? Sirius was dead and Hermione and Ron probably would not help the situation. Neither of them had written since he said no to Ron. He figured they gave up. He was still tired, but he stayed awake anyway.