Picking up from Goblet of Fire – what if Harry had three best friends? If he found another in the Gryffindor common room while trying to figure out his egg in the middle of the night? How would his story change – warning to Ginny fans, she's practically written out of this story.
Harry gave up trying to sleep; he pushed off the blanket and swung his legs off the edge of the four-poster bed. All the other boys were sound asleep, Ron was snoring a little – he was glad they were friends again. Harry stood, ran a hand through his dark hair and walked as quietly as he could towards the door, on impulse grabbing his egg off the bedside table as he went. The door swung open soundlessly, and soon the sound of his footsteps against the cold stone stairs echoed up and down the turret; the wizard thought about casting a silencing charm, then discounted it. What other idiot would be up at – he checked his watch – 18 minutes past two in the morning on a school night.
Weighing the golden egg in his hand, he stared intently at it as he entered the common room, unthinkingly flopping into a slightly tatty armchair by the fire, which flicked the odd serpentine tongue outwards towards him. Harry sighed, and gazed balefully at the stupid egg – for all the clues it had given him, he might as well have let the horntail keep it. He let his head drop back and let his eyes wonder across the ceiling.
"Am I interrupting you?"
Harry leapt to his feet and drew his wand, the egg fell forgotten from his lap to the floor with a faint clang. He raised his eyebrows and felt his heart hammer like a bird fluttering its wings against his chest. He lowered his wand when he saw it was only a girl curled up in a window sheet, hugging her knees against her chest and resting her chin on her knees. "Would you like me to go?"
Harry racked his brains trying to remember the girl's name; she was in his year, he knew that much, and obviously in Gryffindor, but he couldn't for the life of him put her name to her face. A ghost of a smile flicked across her face, showing perfectly straight teeth.
She seemed to recognise he was struggling and she smiled truly. "I'm Alana Winter."
"I'm-"
"Harry Potter – I think everyone in the wizarding world knows your name. And with all the hype at the moment, I'd have to be deaf and dumb not to know you."
Harry had to smile – for all that she appeared shy, it was obvious once she got talking she knew her own mind. The name Winter suited her – her hair was all silvery and her skin milky pale. The only thing that ruined the effect was her eyes, which were either black or deep blue. She uncurled her legs and slipped off the seat – when she stood, she was almost exactly the same height as him. She gestured to the egg. "I'll let you be – you probably want some peace and quiet to figure out your egg."
She walked away, bent, scooped up the egg and handed it to him. She turned and headed towards the Fat Lady painting.
"Hey, wait-" he said impulsively, moving to follow her; Alana turned to look at him, eyes quizzical. "How come you're up?"
She shrugged, her silvery hair rippling like water. "I'm a bit of an insomniac," she explained, looking a little bashful.
"Worse crimes," Harry smiled and handed her the egg. "And you can have a shot – I'm at a loss." Alana simply stared at it, then glanced at Harry and settled back into her window seat; Harry sat down opposite her. There wasn't much space, so he crossed his legs to keep out of her way. She ran her hands all over the egg's surface, tracing the faint indentations where the egg split when unlatched.
"I don't think all the other Gryffindors would be too happy if we woke them at this hour," she said. "Have you any ideas at all?"
Harry shook his head. If it were up to him, he would take his chance and throw the stupid egg out the window, but he knew Hermione would go crazy if he did. "I've not seen you around much."
Alana raised a brow – Harry had always wanted to be able to do that – as if to say 'was that all you could think of'. "I tend to hang around with my own friends – plus, everyone knows Harry Potter is really just a synonym for trouble."
Harry couldn't argue with that. He watched Alana rest her head back against the stone window sill and gazed out into the night. As he watched her, he wondered what it would be like if life were simple – if he weren't the Boy who Lived. Would they have been friends then? There was something very serene and calming about her; just being near her was like drinking a glass of warm milk. Soothing and warming. She looked to him and cocked her head, knowing he wanted to ask her a question before he'd even opened his mouth.
"Do you think I did it? Put my name in the goblet?"
Alana bit her lip but didn't break his gaze. She paused for a while, clearly considering her words carefully. "I think... no," her eyes searched his face before turning back to look out at the stars. "No, I don't think you did. You don't strike me as an attention seeker or as having a death wish," she smiled, resting her forehead against the glass. "I don't know why anyone would put their name into that death trap."
Harry huffed half a laugh, letting out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. For some reason her opinion seemed significant. The minutes past, with them sitting in comfortable silence, absorbed in their own thoughts. It was surprisingly easy, no awkwardness at all. He was glad for once someone wasn't pushing him,for answers, for judgement. But Harry knew he should at least try to get some sleep; he gently took the egg back and stood, drawing her attention. "Goodnight then," she murmured, absentmindedly wrapping a strand of hair around her finger.
"Aren't you going to bed?"
Alana shot him a smile, a little bit sad, a little bit accepting. She shook her head. "I've already had my three hours sleep tonight. I am the literal night owl."
Harry smiled. "Well, night then." He walked across the common room and ducked into the stairwell; again, his footsteps echoed on the stone stairs so he hurried, reached his own dorm and slid back into bed. He set the egg back on the bedside table and closed his eyes, slowing his breathing. For the first time in a while, he closed his eyes and fell straight into a dreamless sleep.