Chapter 2

An exhausted Harry flopped down on his bed, alone in the Gryffindor Tower. He couldn't quite believe what had happened.

"I argued with Ron and Hermione..." he whispered. "I said I didn't need them..."

You don't need them.

Harry sat bolt upright at the whisper.

"Who's there?"

Nothing. No-one. Harry fiddled with his wand nervously. Then tapped his fingers. Agitated and snarling, he threw himself off the bed and stalked around the dormitory, looking behind curtains, under the beds and even in the small adjoining bathroom. Still no-one.

Breathing heavily, Harry flopped down on his bed once more. He was exhausted and his head was pounding. Leaning back into the crimson pillows, he gazed up at the canopy above his bed.

'I called them Mudbloods' he thought worriedly. '.... I don't care. I actually don't care! What the hell's wrong with me?!' A shout of hysterical laughter burst from his lips, before he clapped a hand over his mouth to stop it. He might be going crazy, but there was no need to tell the rest of the world. His eyes drooped. Dropping his wand on the small table beside him, Harry rolled over, and allowed his eyes to fall shut.

It was dark. So dark. Harry stood in the darkness yet again. The pressure was already pushing down on him. He couldn't breathe. Harry attacked the oppressive blanket of shadows above him, scrabbling desperately, trying to find a way out, a bit more room, air, anything. It was like being caged, with the ceiling being lowered inch by inch, crushing him, killing him....

But wait. Harry paused. Was it... was it really? His fingers flew over the dark surface, and then stopped. A crack? It was! He could feel it. Less than an inch, but it was more space for his being to squeeze into. Pressing his mouth to it, he could taste fresh air slipping quietly in. Pushing closer, Harry listened. A steady humming came from outside. What was it? Had he heard it before? He couldn't tell. The air was getting thinner, harder to breathe, harder to think... so much easier to give up, sleep...

No!! He couldn't! Not while there was something out there! He was there, he existed! Don't give up! Not now! You can't! Desperately, he threw himself at the tiny opening. Pushing, squeezing, screaming. And then, suddenly, he was being sucked through. Dragged into the gap and through the darkness. The world was spinning, crashing, ripping. And then it stopped.

Eyes opened. Where was he? Alive? Dead? Fingers clenched around something. Soft. It was soft. Rosy lips parted. One breath. One sweet, long breath of pure air. A smile, which turned into a quiet giggle. Eyes took in his surroundings. A colour... red? Yes, red. How long had it been since he saw that? Another giggle. He wanted more. What was he doing? Ah, lying down. On a bed, to be precise. Sitting up slowly, allowing the body to get used to new situation, eyes swept over the room. A table. Was it his? Yes, he recognised it... And a wand! He couldn't believe it! Was it just lying there? Did no one want it?

A hand snatched the prize eagerly. He cradled it to his chest, giggling madly. Heart pounding, he threw his legs over the side of the bed. His feet touched carpet. Real carpet! He jumped to his feet – then fell heavily. Too much, too quickly. Still snickering, he crawled slowly over the floor, hands and knees relishing the contact. Something blocked his path. Stone. Ah, a wall! He crawled back the way he had come, before pausing to take another long sniff at the air. With a satisfied smile, he looked down at the carpet. He lowered his head, sniffed at it, and then, pressing his face into the wonderfully soft material, he allowed his body to drop, before rolling onto his back, and rubbing, twisting and squirming on the carpet, in a very feline manner.

And then he felt it. A tugging. No, it couldn't be... he was out, he was here! You can't – the rumbling sound approached. Panic. Fear. He couldn't go back. Not now. Staggering to his feet, he lurched for a door. Throwing it open he stumbled inside.

Tug.

No! He looked down at his stomach and felt sick. A large, black hold was forming, pulling him in on himself, dragging him back there.

'No! Don't make me! Please! I have a wand! I can fight! I will fight! I can -'

Harry woke with a start. He was panting, his heart racing. His shirt was stuck to his back with sweat, while his hands trembled. Deliberately slowing his breathing, Harry sat still for a moment, allowing the after effects of the nightmare to pass. When he was calmer, he reached for his wand, slipping back into his normal nightly routine. His hand met the table. He inched his hand forward. Then to the right. Then left. Harry jumped to his feet, hands passing over the smooth wood wildly. His wand was gone.

Harry froze. Turning, slowly, he looked across the dark and empty dorm. The bathroom door was open. It was usually kept shut. Fear gripped at him.

'It couldn't have been...' Stepping forward cautiously, Harry clenched his fists and cursed his Gryffindor courage for deserting him when he needed it the most. Silently padding across the room, Harry paused at the bathroom doorway. No sound could be heard from within. Hastily, Harry snapped on the light, then jumped back.

Nothing. The bathroom was empty, save for his wand, lying innocently and alone on the cold stone tiles.

Snatching it up, he carefully inspected every inch of the bathroom, but there was no sign of whoever had taken his wand. Had he been sleepwalking? Possessed? Going mad?

"Harry?"

Harry whirled around, his wand flying to halt in the face of a surprised Ron Weasley. The redhead jumped back startled, holding his hands up in surrender.

"Whoa, mate! What's going on?!" Harry slowly lowered his wand. Breathing deeply, he slipped it into the waistband of his trousers, then shot a very weak smile at his friend.

"Sorry..." he muttered, ashamed. He knew he'd been out of order with Ron before, but they'd made him so angry, questioning him like that! But Ron had only ever been his friend... and if Snape had called him to stay behind, Harry would have wanted to have known what had been said.

"I've been a jerk Ron," he whispered "I'm sorry... I'm just knackered, and with Mione bugging me and all... I just snapped, you know?"

Ron's face broke into a relieved grin. He stepped forward and threw an arm round Harry's shoulders.

"Don't worry mate! Everyone gets narked at some point!" he laughed, and Harry found the smile on his face growing, before he broke into laughter as well. Ron was his friend. His best friend. How could he even think about falling out with him? Walking back into the main dorm, the two boys flopped down on their relative beds, both relaxed and relieved at their restored friendship. While changing, Harry glanced over at Ron, before asking;

"Do you think I was completely out of order with Hermione?" Ron hesitated in his undressing. A frown marred his features, and his fingers fiddled softly with his pyjama sleeve. To Harry, it was a clear sign that Ron was debating with himself, turning something over in his mind. Eventually though, he gave a half shrug.

"I can understand why you snapped at her. She was being nosy. I think she was just ... surprised that you argued back." He gave a nod, as though to assure himself that the answer was correct, before turning back to his clothes.

Harry, not entirely assured, decided to see how Hermione acted in the morning. Climbing into bed, the boys flicked their wands at the lights, plunging the dorm into darkness. Harry rolled onto his side, and shut his eyes, praying to whatever deity that existed that his nightmare would not repeat itself.

"...Harry?"

"Yes Ron?" There was a long audible pause, then;

"Nothing. Not important." Harry gave a soft snort of laughter. Silence ruled again, Harry waiting patiently for what he knew would come. About five minutes later, another, softer whisper.

"Harry?"

"Yes Ron?" Another hesitant pause, before;

"We're best mates, right?" Harry snickered, before assuring the redhead that they were.

"And we'll always be, right? I mean, nothing would stop you being my mate, would it? Like something really bad..." He trailed off. Harry frowned. Where was Ron going with this?

"Ron, there's not much you could do that would stop me from being your friend, okay? It would have to be something ridiculously bad... like if you decided Potions was your favourite lesson. I'd have to kill you then." He heard Ron chuckle.

"Well obviously. Same to you Potter!" he teased. Harry laughed gently.

"Harry?" He sighed.

"Yes Ron?"

"... what would count as 'ridiculously bad'?" Harry's eyes shot open. What the hell had Ron done? He couldn't think of anything lately. As though sensing Harry's train of thought, Ron swiftly added "There's nothing wrong of course. Hypothetically speaking."

Harry looked worriedly towards the other bed. He rolled onto his back, pondering what Ron would have to do to lose his friendship.

"You could sell me out, I suppose. Tell everything about me to the papers for money. Spread rumours, make my life hell. Betrayal in general, really."

A long, tense silence stretched through the dorm. Harry could practically hear Ron's mind turning over the words. Feeling compelled to put his friend's mind at ease, Harry murmured "You know, if, hypothetically speaking, you'd done something, and wanted to tell me, you know you could, right? I might be pissed at you, but I'd forgive you eventually if I knew why you'd done it."

He knew he'd said the right thing when Ron laughed softly.

"Ta mate. That helps."

"Anytime."

The silence became comfortable. Harry heard Ron's breathing even out as his friend slipped off to sleep. As the darkness closed in on Harry, it was almost comforting. That night passed without incident, with no more strange wanderings or crushing darkness. As Harry drifted off to sleep, the last thing he registered was a soft, despairing sobbing, coming from somewhere in the distance...

Deep within his mind.

Breakfast the next morning was a fairly awkward affair. Harry sat next to Ron, who had mentioned nothing of last night's conversation. Hermione had appeared about ten minutes after them, her eyes lighting up when she spied Ron, but turned icy cold when she spotted Harry on his other side. After a moment's deliberation, she sat down opposite Ron and nodded politely at him when he mumbled a greeting. Harry was ignored completely.

'Not that I care.'

Harry frowned. He really should care. Wasn't Hermione was of his best friends as well? He should be begging for forgiveness, not returning her frosty behaviour. But something deep inside was still furious at her stubborn determination to know all his secrets. She should know by now that he valued his privacy.

'If she was truly your friend, she would respect that.'

Exactly. Harry gave a slight nod to himself. Friendship worked both ways, and Hermione had been out of line. Yes, that was it. Contented with that thought, Harry turned back to his bacon and eggs. A few minutes passed, before Harry felt distinctly uneasy. He glanced around the Hall, looking for the source. He wasn't surprised when he found nothing out of the ordinary.

"Getting bloody paranoid..." he muttered darkly, and returned to skewering his eggs. The post arrived. Spotting Hedwig's distinct white feathers, Harry held out his hand so she could land with ease. She dropped a letter onto his lap, which Harry snapped up quickly. It was from Sirius! It had been ages since his Godfather had written! Hedwig flew off silently, while Harry turned the letter over and ran his fingers across the small paw print seal on the back. The Black family crest was too recognisable, but for Harry, the new seal was a great improvement.

He slipped his thumb under the wax, and made to open the thick envelope... but his thumb wouldn't move. Harry frowned and pulled his thumb back. He gave it an experimental wiggle. All seemed ok... Slightly unnerved, Harry tried once more to open his letter. But this time, he couldn't even make the movement to turn the envelope over! It was as if someone had an invisible grasp on his arm.

'What the bloody hell?!' he thought, panicking. Was there a curse on the envelope? Or was there something inside that Sirius didn't want him to open at the table? Or was it someone's idea of a joke to jinx the damn thing? He turned to Ron to ask if he could open it, when he suddenly caught the look in Hermione's eye. To anyone else, she seemed absorbed in her book, but Harry could see her sharp brown eyes staring determinedly at the letter, as if trying to read the contents through the envelope.

'If you open it now, how long will it be before she begins to pry once more?'

A sly voice whispered at the back of his mind. Emerald eyes narrowed at the bushy-haired Gryffindor. Casually, Harry slipped the envelope into his bag. Sneaking a glance at Hermione, he found her glaring at his school bag as though it had morbidly offended her. He chuckled, before turning back to his breakfast. His scrambled eggs were cold, and only then did he realise that Hedwig had made off with the last of his bacon. He had also completely missed the pointed looks Hermione had sent at Ron.

Harry sighed. Somehow he knew that this was only the beginning of what would probably be a really, really bad day.

And somewhere, deep inside, a small voice agreed.

Another chapter hope it's okay! Thanks to The Pirate King of Shipwreck, sarah, and Toasteriffic for the reviews and everyone else who favourited or alerted my story! To Toasteriffic, I get what you mean, it is a little sudden! But hopefully in the upcoming chapters, you'll begin to see that Harry's 'moodswings' (for want of a better word) are not entirely natural... ;)

So ta again! See you soon!

.Fallen0ne. XD