Author's note: sorry about not updating I've been really busy and I sort of took a "little" break from writing.

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Harry woke up to white, blinding, nauseating white. He blinked to make sure it wasn't just his eyes playing tricks. Taking a quick look around he wanted to groan. He was in the hospital wing again? Apparently he was trying to set the record for most times in an infirmary.

Why was he in the hospital wing anyway? The last thing he remembered was talking with Luna and Neville. It took his confusion-addled brain to remember what had happened and when he did he wanted to scream.

A panic attack? He couldn't even remember the last time he had a panic attack. He had panic attacks often as a child. They had stopped though, right after he got his letter. The Dursley's had for the most part left him alone and then things seemed almost normal until now.

God what was wrong with him? The dreams and now panic attacks? What next? Random fainting acts. If he was just a little bit more paranoid, had a little more constant vigilance then he probably would have wondered why. Instead he just wondered when and if he could leave. As soon as that woman had him in his clutches he'd have to try his damned hardest to escape.

Sluggishly he sat up and looked around through bleary eyes. All of the lights were off leaving the room cast in darkness. It was silent except for the rain hitting against the glass of the windows. Harry's eyes looked around the room, watching the slits of moonlight cover the floor.

"How long have I been out?" he said quietly hoping that Madame Pomfrey wouldn't hear him. She'd probably kill him if she knew he was up this late. He could just imagine the lecture and the punishment of even more time in the hospital wing.

The silence was broken when the door opened and Harry dove back under the covers, trying to look like he was asleep while clutching his wand. (You never could be too prepared.) Whoever it was they weren't quiet, in fact they sound Uncle Vernon did when he was drunk—stumbling around in the darkness and being loud as hell.

"He's over there." Someone hissed out narrowly crashing into a bed.

"Are you sure?" the other person said back quietly, the voice was feminine but not high.

"Of course I'm sure—I have the bloody map right here." Harry wanted to laugh. It was just Ron and Hermione. Wait, what we're they doing here?

"Harry?" Hermione, at least he thought it was Hermione stepped closer to his bed trying to figure out if he was awake.

He didn't move and made sure his breathing stayed shallow. For some strange reason he didn't want to talk to his friends. They'd just ask questions, tell him about the rumors and lecture him. If he told them he didn't want to talk they'd probably take it the wrong way. He loved his friends, they were like his family but right now he couldn't handle it. In fact he couldn't handle anything but sleep.

"Harry, mate?" Ron whispered stumbling closer to their bushy-haired friend.

Hermione sighed, and brushed some hair away from her face taking in the sight of one of her best friend's. If she was being honest then Harry looked exhausted, he looked almost like a corpse. A shiver went down her spine at that thought. "He looks terrible."

Thanks Hermione I'm sure you'd look just as good after fainting. Harry thought sarcastically trying not to move even though he had the desperate urge to sneeze.

"I'm sure he'll appreciate that." Ron said wryly.

"Let's let him sleep, he's probably tired to the bone." Hermione said softly before Harry heard the sound of their retreating footsteps and then the door closed.

Even though he was tired Harry didn't want to sleep instead he stared up at the ceiling wishing it looked a bit more interesting like the great hall. What was wrong? Why did he suddenly want to be away from his friend's, it's not like there was anything wrong with them right?

The answer was surprising—there wasn't anything wrong with his friend's he was the problem. He was different, changing ever so slowly. His paranoia was taking over him making him question everything and he hated it. You shouldn't want to be alone all the time, you shouldn't feel like you didn't belong when you were supposed to.

It'll take more than that to kill me, brother.

"And there it is again!" Harry murmured quietly sitting up and leaning against the headboard. He had a feeling he'd continue to hear that voice until he either dropped dead or went insane.

'How come I get stuck with all the freakish things in life?' he wondered trying to figure out why that voice sounded so familiar. It was like déjà vu really, he knew that voice like the back of his hand and yet he had forgotten where he heard it.

Harry rubbed at his eyes wishing that he had stayed asleep; being awake hadn't helped him at all. It just made him angry, confused and all around frustrated.

Yawning he curled back on the bed staring at the wall and trying to not fall asleep, he couldn't fall asleep now. He felt, he knew he was close to figuring out that voice.

Brother hasn't been dead long, there's still color on his face.

Sirius's face flashed in his mind. At first it was the picture from the poster, his gaunt-looking face seemed like a skeleton's and then it changed to that look of half-shock stunned on his face as he fell.

"I don't want to think about this." he protested sleepily using his pillow to cover his head from something unseen.

His soul's probably still at the gate.

Green eye's closed. 'What was the gate?'

The veil blowing as Sirius fell into it, time coming to a stop.

I just have to pull his soul back…

'How can you pull back a person's soul and from where?'

The same way he did for me…

"Who?" Harry muttered as his mind struggled to match the voice with the memory.

Gold-green eye's opened unknowingly. This is for you brother.

"w-who is that?" a boy—no a suit of armor? And then a boy again? Or was that a soul?

Slowly sleep over came him as he heard the last words' of the phantom's voice in his head.

I'll miss you.

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"-Arry?!" He kept his eyes closed and turned away from the annoying shrieking. Why couldn't people let him sleep in? what was the harm in a few extra hours of sleep?

"Harry!" the voice persisted. It wasn't his voice though, the one that only he heard but a different just as irritating voice.

"Go 'way m' sleepin." He muttered yawning.

"Harry you have classes today! You can't just sleep the rest of the morning." A hand reached down to touch his but was stopped just before she could shake him away.

"Harry! Would you please let go of my wrist it's starting to hurt." Hermione said as she tried to tug her hand away from the death grip. When had Harry gotten so strong anyway? For someone so small his strength was almost amazing.

"Hey mate let her go." Ron said trying to pull Harry's arm away from Hermione.

Hermione wanted to scream when she realized that Harry was still sleeping, reacting purely on reflex. "It's no use to try to get away we just have to wake him up." Hermione said stopping her helpless pulling.

"Isn't that what we've been trying to do for the past five minutes?" Ron asked sarcastically.

The brunette witch stared down at one of her best friends in concern. Was it just her or did Harry looked flushed? His skin normally a paleness that almost matched Snape's was darker flamed red. "Ron I think you should get Madame Pomfrey." She said slowly using her other hand to check Harry's head. Immediately she pulled it back, reeling from the raging heat she felt. "He's burning up."

"Can't you just cast a cooling charm?" Ron questioned as the witch chewed on her lip nervously.

"If the charm's too cool it can cause shock." She responded and then fixed him with a piercing stare. "Weren't you supposed to go get Madame Pomfrey?"

He nodded sheepishly and wasted no more time in running to the office.

"Harry?" Hermione shook his shoulder with her now released hand, the raven-haired wizard having let go a minute or so ago.

As she waited for the nurse Hermione couldn't help but notice that things about Harry seemed peculiar lately. Harry wasn't acting much like himself—no that wasn't right. He was acting like himself part of the time and the other half he acted like a completely different person. He had constant mood swings, going from happy to snarling angry in seconds, had run away from the Dursley's (though now that Hermione thought of it that wasn't such a bad thing), and from what Ron told her had a constant and incurable case of insomnia/nightmares.

Her eyes narrowed. Something wasn't right with Harry lately and she'd do her best to find out. After all what if he did something stupid or self-harming? She wouldn't let anything happen.

"What's wrong with Mr. Potter now?" Madame Pomfrey asked rushing forward with Ron treading on her heels. Hermione jumped barely refraining the very strong urge to shriek, when had they gotten here?

"He has a fever."

Madame Pomfrey frowned and walked closer toward her charge looking at him with a hawk's eye. Ron stood awkwardly next to Hermione as the nurse ran test after test on Harry.

"It appears that Mr. Potter has somehow caught a virus." She said finally putting her wand away. Almost as an after thought she turned back toward them as if now realizing they were still here.

"He'll be alright wont he?" Ron asked glancing over at the pale looking Harry.

She gave them a smile at seeing their concern. "He'll be fine after a good day's rest and a healing potion.

"That's good." Hermione sighed in relief.

"Really good." Ron agreed.

"I think that if you two don't hurry you'll be even later for your first classes." Madame Pomfrey said wisely.

Hermione frowned staring at Harry. "I forgot about class, because of Harry's fever. And right now I don't really care."

Ron's eyebrows shot up in surprise but then he grinned. "Hermione Granger doesn't care about her school work? I never thought I'd live to see the day."

She rolled her eyes. "Sometimes other things take a higher priority." She said stiffly.

Madame Pomfrey hid her smile. "If it's not too much trouble would you please tell Albus about Harry's recent condition and that he'll be out of class for another day or so."

Hermione nodded. "Of course Madame Pomfrey it's not any trouble at all."

Ron smirked; this meant that they'd probably miss Potions class entirely. "Come on 'Mione we'd better go." The two left a few seconds later one of them looking very happy while the other fretted about what they had missed in class.

The Nurse turned back to her patient only to find him twitching in a restless sleep. "And what are we going to do about you Mr. Potter?" She asked hands on her hips. How was it possible for one student to get in this much trouble?

Harry groaned and turned onto his side muttering something into his pillow.

Madam Pomfrey leaned closer, wondering what the boy could say in his fever-induced deliria.

"Edward." He muttered again as he body shifted trying to find some release from the unstopping heat that burnt along every nerve.

'Edward?' Madame Pomfrey frowned. As far as she knew there were no students named Edward at Hogwarts and nor was there anyone in the order called Edward. Perhaps a muggle friend? Whoever it was they had to mean something to the boy or else he wouldn't have said it, even in his delusion. Only a fever would weaken (not destroy) the many masks that Potter hid behind.

"Poppy how is Harry doing?" the matron jumped and then turned around frowning. "Albus how many times has a member of the staff told you not to do that?" she asked irritated. Why the man got a sense of pleasure on sneaking up on people she'd never know.

Albus smiled, his blue eyes twinkling as he walked toward the nurse and the bed. "I'm sorry Poppy I didn't know it would startle you." He said sincerely.

She sighed. "Mr. Potter will be fine after a few days rest, and a fever-reducing potion." She hesitated for a second wondering if she should reveal the next part. "He also mentioned someone named Edward."

Albus stared at her with something she didn't recognize. "Edward?"

Her eyes narrowed when she practically saw the wheels and cranks turning in his head. "In most cases of fever the patients suffer through deliria, meaning that he's most likely suffering through delusions and that this Edward doesn't exist."

The older wizard nodded, and stared down at the boy who was there savior with sympathy. "Of course."

Madam Pomfrey quickly walked back toward her potions cabinet smirking. Despite his good intentions Albus was very curious and unfortunately manipulative to a fault. This time she wouldn't let him use the boy for his own agenda no matter if it was for the greater good. After all Slytherins were unendingly cunning and she'd shame her former house if she hadn't intervened.

-Later in the day-

Edward frowned. "Come on Al your not supposed to get sick." He whined as his little brother crawled into bed. "who am I supposed to play with if your sick?"

Al gave a weak shrug and Ed leaned closer his hand connecting with a clammy forehead. "You really are sick aren't you?" only now had he realizing that his brother hadn't been fibbing.

"Mm-hm." The darker-blonde murmured piling as many blankets as he could find on his bed. It felt like the time he and brother had went outside in winter without their jackets and boots on.

"Al how can you be that cold you're burning up?!" Edward exclaimed incredulously staring at him with curiosity.

"dunno, m' cold." He said curling up under the blankets as the shudders racked his body.

Ed sighed and walked the short distance from his bed to Al's.

"Brother you shouldn't come near me your going to get sick." Alphonse protested even as Edward pulled him against him deeming a human heater better than a thousand blankets.

"So? It's not fun playing without you anyway." Edward replied trying to think of what mom did whenever he and Al got sick? Finally remembering he gave Al a smile and started to run his hand through Al's mussed up hair.

"M' tired." Al said sleepily, burrowing into the blankets that he had left.

Ed rolled his eyes. "Then go to sleep Alphonse."

"kay' night Brother."

"Good night Al." Ed said closing his eyes and resting his head against the wall. If Al was getting some sleep than why couldn't he?

"Brother?" the quiet voice asked.

Edward cracked open one eye. "Yeah Al?"

"Thanks Edward." Al replied closing his eyes and letting sleep wash over him, hopefully by tomorrow his fever would be gone and then he and brother could go outside and play.

The older brother shook his head, sometimes Al was really ridiculous. Why wouldn't he help Al anyway? That was what big brothers were supposed to do. "Just go to sleep and get better Al." he said quietly.

Harry finally stopped shifting in his sleep and instead stayed peacefully still, remembering the command he had never heard.

-Chapter end-