The first time it happened to Harry he was walking back from quidditch practice. He had just started to climb the Entrance Hall's grand staircase when he was struck with the oddest sensation he had ever felt. His chest felt like it was rippling, and his heart seemed to miss several beats. He brought his hand up to try and soothe the feeling but as his placed his palm to his chest a horrible stabbing pain forced itself upon him. He tried to yelp with pain but as he went to take a breath he found that he could not. His ribs felt as if they were bound tightly and trying to take in a lungful of air was impossible. Panic soon swept in and he fell to his knees cursing his stars that he had not followed his team mates back to the common room when they had left the quidditch pitch. Madam Hooch had recently been complaining that quidditch equipment had been going missing so Harry had stayed to ensure that everything went back to its rightful place so the flying teacher would have nothing against him and his house.

What felt like hours must have only been seconds as the sensation, whatever it was, receded rapidly until Harry was left panting on the floor. He stayed still for a moment to catch his breath before moving very slowly, using the banister of the stairs as a crutch, got up. His was baffled as to what that episode was about and was appreciative that someone like Malfoy hadn't turned up which would have made matters about five hundred times worse.

Slowly, but surely Harry climbed the grand staircase. He knew that taking this amount of time would mean he would be forever getting back to the common room but for some reason something told him that going any faster would be risky, if not down right dangerous. As he climbed he contemplated calling in to see Madam Pomfrey but quickly quashed that idea as he knew the Nurse would do nothing but fuss over him. Besides he was fairly sure that it was only the result of an arduous quidditch practice. He didn't want to make the nurse waste her time with this when she could be dealing with any number of more valuable things.

His journey to the common room was long, but luckily without incidence. His was slightly out of breath from the walk but managed to get it back under control before he finally reached the Fat Lady's portrait. He spoke the password quietly and entered the common room with caution and fortunately for him it had taken him so long to get to the Gryffindor tower that it meant that the common room was almost empty save for a few fourth years fussing over homework and a relaxed looking Ron and Hermione occupying the comfy chairs by the fire.

The looked up at him with a little concern but seemed appeased when he explained, rather lied, that he had almost been accosted by Filch so had to lay low for a ten minutes as his excuse for being late. He didn't want to worry Ron and Hermione with his episode just as with the school nurse, after all when he woke up in the morning he would most likely feel right as rain. He explained that he was feeling tired, the truth this time, and so wanted to head for bed as soon as possible. They nodded in agreement and got up to follow him. Hermione bid them goodnight and made her way up the girls' stairs while Ron and Harry climbed their own staircase to their dorm room.

To make it look like there was nothing the matter, he climbed the stairs at a pace that matched Ron's. This however was a fast one as he had very long legs and by the time Harry reached their bedroom he was as tired as he had been on the much longer trek from the Entrance Hall. Ron noticed this and asked if Harry was feeling alright, Harry answered with the affirmative and waved of Ron's concern with the explanation that quidditch had taken it out of him.

Once changed they bid each other goodnight and settled into bed. Harry was keenly worried about the incident in the Entrance Hall as he now called it but his exhaustion overtook and him and within minutes of lying down he was fast asleep.

The next morning Harry was feeling much better and let his chest troubles the night before leave his head so he could get down to his school work and socialising.

It wasn't until a few days later, late on a Friday afternoon in a stuffy potions classroom that the thought entered his mind. They had been making, or at least attempting to,

A dreamless sleep potion. Whilst Hermione was having moderate success with her endeavours the rest of the class was lagging far behind. None more so than poor Harry and his Ravenclaw partner. Their cauldron was spitting angry red sparks every which way where it should have been issuing soft bellows of turquoise vapour and they had to keep jumping to avoid their furious spray.

Snape was prowling and soon came across Harry and his partner's poor excuse for a potion. He embarked on deriding everything to do with Harry's part in the potion making process and as he went on was ensuring that Harry got as worked up as possible. Snape through in some poor dog references and sure enough Harry went a deep shade or red trying to refrain from barking back at his professor.

Whilst Snape continued to mock his efforts the familiar rippling and fluttering thrust itself upon Harry and he soon found himself taking a step back. He had been standing to make his potion but felt that his legs could no longer support him so sat heavily upon the seat behind him. Snape has something to say about this, but an odd rushing in Harry's ears had started and it was hard to concentrate on the things around him. His breathing became laboured again and he felt the tightening of his chest. Unlike last time it didn't stop after a thirty seconds and his world started dimming with the lack of oxygen.

At this point Harry didn't know what was going on and so started to seriously panic. His mind was running away with him and he was sure that this was what dying felt like. He couldn't see his life flashing before his eyes but he felt sure that unless somebody did something he soon would be.

People swam in and out of his vision and he was vaguely aware that he had made his way to the floor. His senses told him that there was a hand on his chest and it took him a while to realise that it was his hand. He tried to say something, anything to get someone to help but nothing made it past his air-starved throat. As everything started to go balck he could hear someone shrieking in the distance to go and the nurse. Finally someone was doing something.

His last conscious thought was not of his time on Earth nor anything about how much his friends meant to him rather the concern that if he died nobody would be around to feed Hedwig. With that thought he passed out on the cold stone floor of the potions classroom with the whole class looking on with worry at the fallen Boy-Who-Lived.