I do not own Harry Potter. If I did, I wouldn't have to resort to babysitting to get money!

Harry had difficulty going to sleep that night. After his "conversation" with Ron and Hermione, he had informed them that he was tired and wanted to go up to the dorm. Ron had immediately said that he was going too; probably sensing Harry's need to get away from the stares of their housemates. Hermione had said that she needed to study, even though exams had already passed. So Ron and Harry had left her to it and trudged up the stairs to the boys' sixth year dorm.

As Harry had suspected, just a minute after he and Ron had entered, Dean and Seamus came in.

"So, Harry...this isn't some sort of joke? It's really true, what Neville said?" Seamus asked hesitantly. Harry rolled his eyes, though Seamus couldn't see since Harry was getting his pajamas out of his trunk and had his back turned. They'd seen him communicating with Ron and Hermione in the common room; they hadn't heard him say a word since before he left with Dumbledore, and they were asking if this was all real? Didn't Seamus have a single ounce of logic? Harry turned to regard his year mates. Seamus seemed to be sort of hesitantly, yet genuinely curious, and Dean seemed to not know what to say.

Both of them fidgeted under Harry's gaze, and Harry, just for the sake of it, decided to play a little game with them.

"No, everything is fine, of course." He "said". Of course, his lips moves correctly, but not a squeak emitted from his mouth. Seamus and Dean just stared, and Harry rolled his eyes and turned back to his trunk.

"Seamus, what do you think? He was writing to us just for the bloody sake of it?" Ron asked incredulously.

"I don't know it's just…really hard to believe." Dean answered. He seemed embarrassed and awkward. Try being me, Harry thought viciously. He pulled an old essay from his trunk and a quill with ink. He wrote, "Look, I'm tired and I don't want to talk about it. Ron can tell you what happened if he wants to."

Then he handed it to Seamus and grabbed his pajamas, preparing to head into the bathroom. He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned. It was Dean.

"Look Harry, we didn't want to bother you. We really are sorry about it. Let me know if there's anything I can do to help right now." Dean's face was honest and genuinely sympathetic. Harry didn't particularly want sympathy right now, but he didn't want to argue either. He nodded and gestured to Seamus to give him the old essay.

He wrote one more message: Just please don't treat me any different from before. That would only make me feel worse.

Dean and Seamus read it and both nodded.

"Got it, Harry." Dean said. Harry flashed him a grateful smile before retreating to brush his teeth.

Harry lay in bed that night, thinking over just what had happened that day. So much unbelievable and depressing news had come to light today: Harry's permanent silence, Dumbledore's murder, Severus Snape's betrayal…it was all too much to think on at once. He tried to banish all thought from his mind, so that maybe he would fall asleep. He didn't want to think about anything.

Harry was in the Astronomy tower, watching as Snape cast the killing curse at Dumbledore.

He wanted to scream, but the petrificus totalus prevented him.

Bellatrix whirled, casting hexes in every direction in a sick dance of victory.

And then a curse hit him.

He could feel it, burning and destroying.

Some part of him that realized this was a dream thought, why isn't Ron waking me up like usual?

And now the petrificus totalus wore off, and Harry collapsed to the ground. The invisibility cloak lay next to him.

The death eaters saw him.

And, seeing his pain, decided to add to it.

Bellatrix taunted as she hurled spells at him, "Where is the old man now, Potter? Is he dead? Just like dear old Sirius?"

And Harry just screamed louder, because the pain was terrible, and remembering was agony in itself.

Ron sat up in bed, wondering what had woken him. He glanced at the clock: it was two in the morning. He rubbed his eyes sleepily and was about to settle back on his pillow, when he heard muffled sounds coming from Harry's bed.

And now, Ron realized why he had woken.

Harry was prone to terrible nightmares; Ron knew this better than anyone since he was usually the one to wake Harry during these times. It had somehow become a habit for Ron to wake in the middle of the night, wake a screaming and thrashing Harry from a nightmare, ask Harry if he was alright, and then fall back asleep.

Apparently it was so usual that Ron had awoken, even if Harry wasn't waking the entire gryffindor Tower.

But Harry was still having a nightmare.

Ron had only just remembered how Harry was now mute, and put the pieces quickly together.

Harry couldn't scream.

So even if he was having a nightmare, and unconsciously trying to scream, no sound would be made.

Ron leapt out of bed and dashed to Harry's side, and then started to shake his thrashing best friend by the shoulders.

Now Harry had been thrown into a different dream.

Around him, his friends from Dumbledore's Army were fighting the death eaters.

Harry was fighting, along with the rest of them.

Trails of black smoke flew everywhere, indicating where the death eaters were apparating to.

Now in flashes of white smoke, members of the Order of the Phoenix were appearing.

One of them was Sirius.

Harry remembered this now, he knew what happened. He didn't want to relive this memory!

But he was caught up in the dream, unable to wake.

He watched as Sirius was slammed with his own cousin's, Bellatrix's, curse.

Harry would always remember the look on Sirius's face when that fateful curse struck.

And then his godfather tumbled back into the Veil of Souls, and was gone.

Forever.

Ron finally resorted to shouting to rouse Harry. His friend was screaming, or at least trying to. If Harry hadn't been mute before, he certainly was now.

"Come on Harry! It's just a nightmare, wake up!" Ron shook Harry some more, but Harry's mouth only opened wider as if he were screaming harder. It was too eerie, Ron thought, to see all the motions of sound that Harry went through, only to have no sounds come out.

Harry had seriously creeped Seamus and Dean out earlier, when he had "said"…something. Ron hadn't been able to tell what Harry had mouthed, but Seamus and Dean had been quietly talking about it in spooked tones as soon as they realized that Harry was asleep. Neville had come in, and, noticing the mood of the room, had asked what had happened.

Seamus was all too happy to tell him.

It was a good thing Harry had missed all that, Ron thought, as he continued to attempt to shake Harry awake. It wasn't working, and now the others were beginning to get up to see what was going on.

"Dean, go get Professor McGonagall! Harry's having another nightmare, but he isn't waking up!"

Harry's dream shifted yet again.

Now he was in the graveyard outside the old Riddle Manor, in the very spot Cedric had been killed and Voldemort had risen to power once more.

And Voldemort was there again, with a host of death eaters listening to what Harry thought was some sort of speech.

No one noticed Harry, this time.

"It has come to my attention that, on the same night as Dumbledore was murdered, another great victory had been won." Voldemort said, his voice nearly trembling with withheld glee.

"Harry Potter was struck by a curse which literally burned away his ability to speak. Harry Potter, the 'Chosen One,' is now mute!""

The death eaters burst out into whoops of joy. A few even cast colored sparks into the air with their wands.

Then Voldemort turned so that he now faced Harry.

"Ah, and look at who has decided to join us at this momentous occasion. The subject of celebration himself!"

Then Bellatrix was in front of Harry, her wand in her hand. Harry pulled his own wand from his back pocket and kept it trained on her.

"Oh, I don't think that will do you much good, little Potter." Bellatrix trilled, and then she cackled madly.

"Expelliarmus!" She shouted.

"Protego!" Harry shouted in reaction. But his soundless words didn't have any effect, and his wand went flying from his hand.

"What's the matter, Potter? Speechless?" Bellatrix taunted.

Then Voldemort pushed her aside and pointed his own wand at Harry.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Ron was still trying to wake Harry, Neville and Seamus watching, as Dean rushed in followed by McGonagall.

"Let me near, Mr. Weasley." McGonagall said, and Ron moved away from Harry reluctantly.

"Enervate!" She said, her wand pointed at Harry. Harry jolted one more time, and then shot up, his eyes wide. His mouth had contorted to look as if he had shouted in fright.

Harry took in the people around his bed, a slightly panicked look still in his eyes. But he seemed to calm down as he recognized the people he knew.

"Are you alright, Mr. Potter?" McGonagall asked, concern in her tone.

"Yeah, I'm…" Harry began, but stopped, remembering the events of the previous day. Everyone was staring, so he just nodded instead.

"Are you sure?" McGonagall asked. Again, Harry nodded, but he looked away. He knew what he had been doing in his sleep now. He had probably been soundlessly screaming and thrashing; the usual, except, it must have been eerie to see him screaming, but not to hear it. And everyone in this room had witnessed his midnight fit.

McGonagall gave him one last concerned look before turning and exiting the dorm, her dressing robes swirling behind her. Harry slumped and held his head in his hands, tousling his hair. He felt like this series of nightmares was one of the worst things he'd ever experienced; aside from the cruciatus curse at the end of fourth year. He hadn''t actually had any physical pain, but the grief caused by simply remembering even one of those events…that had been raw, undistilled agony. And having to relive them, one after the other? It had matched the cruciatus, scream for scream.

Ron had taken hold of his shoulder.

"You really alright, Harry? It looked like you were under the cruciatus."

Harry slowly shook his head no.

"Did it hurt?" Ron asked. Harry shook his head, but then placed his hands over his heart and patted the place. Ron nodded, understanding flickering across his face.

"Which one?" his friends questioned further. Harry shook his head again, and then held up three fingers. Now Ron looked confused.

"But…I thought there were only two…"

Harry closed his eyes, shook his head, and then pointed to the seven on the clock face by his bed. Seven was the time that they usually woke for classes, so Harry's meaning was clear. I'll tell you about it in the morning.

Ron took a moment to peer at the clock, and get the meaning behind Harry's actions, before he nodded.

"Alright mate. I'll see you in the morning. Come one, mates, get back into bed." Ron shooed the others away and then made his way over to his own bed. Before he lay back to go to sleep, he took another glance at Harry. The other boy was already asleep.