Author's note: Inspired by a line in GoF. Towards the end of the story it will be quite clear which one. Disclaimer: Standard disclaimer applies.
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Harry Potter awoke and saw Death standing over Seamus' bed.
He watched them through the opening of gently flapping bedcurtains for a while, keeping quite still as not to attract attention to himself. Finally, he dared to sit up on his bed.
"If you," he started, "if you have come for me - for me, then ...," and trailed off.
But Death took no heed of Harry, and so Harry stood up from his bed and left the dorm room. What else was there to do?
He descended the spiraling staircase and entered the common room. There, he examined the entrance to the girl's dormitories, and saw it leading nowhere but into black and empty space. Well, he shrugged, maybe the staircase was busy leading elsewhere tonight. Who knew, maybe another one of the castle's little peculiarities was to stretch its spiral staircases every seventeen years or so. He really hadn't enough information to come to any kind of conclusion about the gaping hole.
He was sure the bridge to Hermione would be available again tomorrow. Or maybe the day after. Or so.
He turned. The common room was in disarray. Nothing unusual there. The house-elves would come and clean it. As a matter of fact, they probably would come scuttling around any moment now, because it was already late in the night, and very early in the morning. Funny, you never saw them doing the actual cleaning. You never saw them at all, come to think of it. He wouldn't see them tonight as well, he was sure, even if he sat here till dawn, because that's what house-elves were good at. Not being seen. It was just as if they weren't there at all.
Harry let his gaze sweep over the untidy room. Mind you, the tables did seem a little bit dusty.... Harry pondered if he, for once, should wait for the house-elves, but opted against it. No point really....
He left the common room, pushing aside the portrait, which was swinging somewhat loosely on its hinges, and he heard it fall shut behind him with a rattling sound. He didn't look back to see if there was any occupant in the picture. But on the other hand, the Fat Lady was always there, wasn't she? So why should she be missing tonight? Yes, no need to look back at the picture; would just be a waste of time; the lady would be there like always. He really couldn't explain his sadness, as he noticed that he had never asked her name.
He began striding through the empty (Of course empty! It was night, after all.) corridors. Mustn't make a noise, he thought, unless I want to be caught by Mrs. Norris. He stamped his foot on the ground, coughed and tapped his fingers on a suit of armour. Waited. Then walked on.
Aimlessly, he continued, up staircases, down others. To the library. By chance. But since he was already here, he thought, he could just as well spend his time doing something useful. He could leaf through a few tomes. It was always good to be prepared for all eventualities. There might be surprise test tomorrow. There might be classes.
He entered the library. Entered the restricted section. Pulled one book down, yanked it open and cringed preventively. The book remained silent. Of course. Why should it have screamed, he remembered, he had received permission to access this part of the library by Dum- by Flitwick himself. Shaking his head, Harry slipped the book back in the gap between two other completely lifeless - no - completely dormant books.
He ran his fingers through his lank hair, rubbing his temples, to soothe the dull throbbing in his head.
He really needed to stop this pointless wandering about, he decided. He needed fresh air. Out. He needed to get out. Now.
Harry turned on his heels and strode steadfastly toward the library's exit, and left the door open (Madam Pince would be angry) as he went down a corridor with empty portrait frames. He wondered where all the inhabitants had ran off to. He fancied the thought that they were congregating in a huge tapestry, holding some kind of party.
Harry stopped suddenly.
Death came his way. Harry flattened himself against the cold stone wall and watched Him pass by.
"Really," Harry said. "If you have come for me - if you just would...," then caught himself, closing his mouth. He spoke to the retreating figure once more. "Must have been quite an event for you, huh? Not every day that you can take the life of a building."
Seconds later he was alone again in the corridor. Dust and pebbles grated beneath his boots as he pushed himself off the wall with one hand. Beneath his fingertips he felt something like a crack running through the ancient stone. He pulled his hand away and shoved it into his pocket.
Out. Yes, he remembered he wanted to go outside.
He went downstairs, and came to the Entrance Hall. In front of him he saw the door leading outside and to his left the door to the Great Hall. He hesitated for a moment. No harm if he peered into the Great Hall, was there? He stepped over to the ancient double doors, and had to struggle a bit to get them open, but when they stood ajar wide enough for him to slip through, he inched his way inside.
He glanced around. Nothing unusual in here. All the tables sat on their respective places. The same layer of dust, he had seen all over the castle, was laying upon them, though. But the enchanted ceiling was still the same. He could see a few clouds roaming the sky, pushed along by a sturdy breeze. They weren't dense enough to obscure the moon from view. Yes, the Great Hall was just like usual. Still, he couldn't shake off the feeling that he really shouldn't actually perceive the wind draft in here, too.
Harry quickly left the hall again, and went outside. Once there, he pondered again where he could head off to now. Hagrid was - asleep. And anyway, he could not let himself get seen by anyone. It was way past curfew, after all. An idea came quickly to him, as he suddenly remembered a song he had heard once via Wizarding Wireless Network in the Burrow. 'Quidditch in the Moonlight'. That was it, he would get his broom from the shed and fly a few rounds.
Determined now, he set off to the Quidditch field and extracted his Firebolt from the shed. On the field, he placed his broom on the ground. He eyed it for a few seconds, as it lay peacefully on the ground. Its twigs were trimmed neatly. The handle could use a good polishing, though. It was a nice broom, he couldn't help but admit once again. He let his hand hover about four foot above the handle, and kept it there for some time. Then he retracted it. Maybe flying wasn't such a good idea. It was rather dark, and anyway the broom really could do with some servicing first.
He picked up the broom and carried it back to the shed. Inside the shed, he regarded the Firebolt again for some time, gripped the handle and swept over the floor with it. Once. Slowly, he put it back on the rack, and left.
Harry took a stroll around the castle, and found himself ending up at the wrought iron gate, with the columns that were topped with boar statues. Hogwart's exit gates, he thought. They stood ajar. He stepped through.
He continued walking a few paces, till he felt compelled to look back, for he inexplicably thought he might regret it, if he didn't. Something caught his eyes. There, between the winged boars, something was shining in the moonlight. Something flat and square. A sign.
He could barely read it.
It said:
'DANGER, DO NOT ENTER, UNSAFE'
Harry Potter turned around, and as he did so, he caught a glimpse of what lay beyond those gates and beyond the sign. As he walked away, he simply could not understand, why the contour of the building he had seen appeared to be a ruin rather than a castle.
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