It's my first fic and English isn't my native language, so please point out where I did wrong. But yeah I know they're pretty OOC. I'm so sad lately that I wrote this to vent out. I hope you'd like it though.

Harry sat beside Morgan, listened intently to whatever the tact Slytherin might say. But as usual, his friend said nothing. Only the soft drops of water from his school robe's sleeves, one of the pieces of evidence of his early swim in the lake.

He had wanted to ask what it was in his head and heart. Had wanted to since a long time ago. But every time his green eyes met the cerulean blue of Morgan's, he stopped wanting. The question choked on his throat with the unspeakable sadness those cerulean orbs emanated, no matter how bright he smiled with his eyes. They carried something heavier and older than what a sixteen-year-old should carry, let alone an eleven-year-old. Because it was the same kind of eyes that bored into him that night of September 1st, 1991.

They locked eyes for a few seconds before Morgan's eyelids dropped when the sorting proceeded. As one of the first to be sorted, the Ambrosius boy still got Harry's full attention. He was taller than Harry, with hair as messy as Harry's and his build was as skinny too. But maybe it was the unusually big ears that would catch anyone's attention first.

Murmurs surely arose after five minutes he sat there with the hat on. His stillness could be mistaken for sleep if not for his so straight back. Not once had his expression changed, and neither did the hat's.

Eventually a table second from the right erupted into loud cheers after the sorting hat shouted SLYTHERIN for the whole Great Hall to hear. Even then, Harry noticed the same lack of expression on Morgan Ambrosius that happened for only a short moment after a successful attempt to flash a bright smile in the direction of his house's table, and especially Harry.

Later, Harry knew that the mysterious boy was an orphan from a reclusive Pureblood family that usually didn't send their children to Hogwarts. But it was also told that although the family was as mysterious as he was, the wizarding world owed a great enough deal to Ambrosius's generosity.

Morgan was pretty much an outcast of his house, but with the reputation his family held, they never really tried to antagonise him. It made Harry chose to call him a standout. He didn't directly challenge his housemates' pureblood bigotry, but anyone could tell that he didn't really agree to it. He stood against bullies. Countered their mocks with level-headed intelligent comebacks and stopped whenever he saw fit. Anymore taunts that directed at him, and he would walk away calmly.

Morgan realised that he caught people's attention but he ignored it and tried to blend in which he didn't realise he failed. There was something about him that made Harry felt drawn to him. Mysteries tend to attract people. Maybe that was it. And he had it in him to make friends to as many people as he desired, with his contagious smile and sweet disposition that didn't do well to mask the fact that he was hiding something. But he chose to be alone most of the time. At least, that was what Harry suspected. Harry rarely saw him, and when he did, Morgan was by himself.

It all rather changed in the fourth year when the Goblet of Fire spat Morgan and Harry's names, respectively. He kept looking at the table, gaped mouth and wide-eyed and was saying something. Denying his putting his name in the cup, probably. His head was moving slightly with each breath he took, which obviously was quicken. He ignored the Headmaster's order to go to the side chamber. Only when the cup's flame acted strange again and shot up Harry's name did he move, to look at Harry, shocked face still intact. There were fits of anger, confusions, jealousies all around them but none of the both seemed to register the chaos.

"I didn't put my name in," Harry said blankly. "You know I didn't." but his voice drowned out. No one would believe it anyway.

Morgan got up when Harry did, which only after Hermione pushed him.

Harry was actually wary of the other boy. He proved to be a brilliant wizard, rivalled only by Hermione. Surely he knew of some way to trick the Goblet of Fire? Something better than ageing himself? Even with that lost look he had when they were arguing with everyone in the room, Harry was still unsure. He could possibly be a good actor.

But circumstances forced them to spend more time together, which inevitably made him knew more than to doubt Morgan's innocence. A lot of students hated them, and Morgan was there for him —a place that was supposed to be Ron's— more than he did for Morgan.

Together they had been helpless in the face of Voldemort's resurrection, defied each other's self-blame of not being able to stop fake-Moody from killing Cedric Diggory, and taught the Dumbledore Army through the split opinions of the wizarding community about them and their claim of Voldemort's return.

True, they had become closer. Yet Harry still couldn't break through the barrier between what was inside the head and heart of Morgan's and the rest of the world.

"An end of another adventurous year, right Harry?" a blend of melancholic eyes and bright smile, still facing the lake.

Harry recounted an event in a night of a few days back. "Yeah." Morgan turned to him with a tell-me-about-it look, but Harry wasn't going to comply. "You ended it with swimming in the dead of the dawn?" why he didn't dry up his robes was beyond him. It looked uncomfortable. The uniform had obviously been worn from the day before.

Morgan scoffed. "Swimming? No. I was trying to drown myself." he said in an amused tone.

Was that sarcasm? But Harry knew Morgan could swim. Or was he went to the lake to do something important?

Morgan laughed. A loud laugh which ended awkwardly. "I was telling the truth." his face faltered. "I wanted to die."

It was true the boy looked depressed since forever, but Harry never thought that Morgan would ever off himself. If anyone wanted to end his life because of too many burdens, it would be Harry, but even he had never considered it at all. Not that Harry would mention it to his friend. He looked really distraught at the moment. Just how much was the coldness inside there?

As if he'd had kicked right in the chest, Morgan gasped and muttered an apology. "I'm sorry. I.. it's only morning and I ruined your day already. I'm so sorry." he drew his wand to charm his clothes dry.

Harry blinked. "It's fine, you didn't do anything." a pause. "but you're clearly not fine." he continued hesitatingly, "tell me about it. You can talk me."

Morgan slumped down more and took his time. Bottled up emotions proved to be a bad thing. That was possibly what Morgan had been doing all his life. To open up after such was not a light matter.

"I've been having nightmares. I can't even remember how it feels to live without one." he rubbed his forehead with both hands, the right still gripping his wand. "In the dreams, I'm in Medieval Era, I don't know why. I dreamed of killing people or having my loved ones die in my arms, or being unable to prevent bad things from happening when I actually could've done something." he was being vague but the least that Harry could do is to not to complain. "They're only dreams, I know. But still, they are too vivid than considered safe. To the tiniest bits of the emotions. It's overwhelming. Like I did them over and over again. Eating away my soul. My sanity."

Harry knew things about being lost to mere vision on the head. He had experienced it in the first hand, though a bit different from what Morgan was experiencing.

"Well it's a good thing I came to my senses and go back here before the water filled my lungs," he smirked, but both weren't so sure if the words were true. "There's so much more I could do with my life." Morgan pointed his wand upwards. "Fumos." he waved it in some circling movement, causing smoke to burst slowly out of the tip of it. Formless at first but with more movement, started to take the form of a dragon. Morgan stopped the smoke once the dragon was fully formed. Harry grinned in awe as its wings flapped when it floated away from the ground towards the sky, just like all smokes did.

"A gift like yours is so precious, Morgan. Yes, you can do more. More beauty and goodness."

But Morgan didn't smile back.

"Please do me a favour, Harry?"

"Huh?"

"Keep this between us, will you?"

He would see Morgan differently, now that he knew the truth. And he wasn't sure if Hermione wouldn't notice his changes. But he nodded anyway. "I will." at least he would try not to.

Harry didn't know everything.. didn't he?