Chapter 2

Chapter 2

A shudder ran down Harry Potter's back.

"Are you OK Harry?" Hermione asked him, the fork of potato poised halfway between her plate and her mouth.

"Yeah, fine." Harry replied, looking behind him. No one was there. Through the corner of his eye, he saw Hermione and Ron exchange a confused look with eyebrows raised.

"I'm not mad." He told them. He looked over his shoulder again. He could feel something…someone…

"Maybe I am going mad." He thought. Then, after a short mental argument with himself, came to the conclusion that he wasn't.

"Harry, are you listening?" Professor Flitwick asked him later on that day.

"Yeah." Harry said, snapping out of his daydream.

"Do you find something fascinating about Miss Granger's hair?"

Harry looked over to where Hermione was looking at him. Smiling but still slightly concerned.

"No," Harry replied, feeling the classes eyes bore down on him. He could feel himself blush. "No Sir."

"Very well, please pay attention Mr Potter." Professor Flitwick continued, carrying on with the demonstration of how to make an object sprout legs, arms and top hat and start dancing.

Harry glanced over to Hermione and gave her an apologetic smile.

"I think he likes her." Lavender Brown told Parvati Patil in the row in front of Harry. He frowned.

"Girls." He muttered under his breath.

The day passed quickly and soon Harry, Ron and Hermione were sitting in the common room. Hermione, as usual, had a book in front of her, revising for an Arithmancy exam the following day. Ron was challenging Harry to a game of chess. So far, Ron was winning.

"Are you OK Harry?" Ron asked him as Harry missed a move that even Hermione, who was terrible at chess, couldn't have missed.

"Yeah. Fine. Thanks." Harry replied his voice distant.

"Are you sure? You've been awful quiet today." Hermione chipped in, resting the large book on the table and watching the game.

"Yeah. I'm fine. Seriously. I've just got a bit of a headache, that's all."

"Maybe you should go to Madame Pomfory." Said Hermione, cocking her head and surveying Harry's little chessmen.

"No. I'll just have an early night. That's all." Harry told them.

"Checkmate!" Ron called. Harry and Hermione looked at him, confused. "Checkmate! I won!"

That night Harry tossed and turned, trying to find a cool spot on his pillow. He glanced at his watch. The illuminated hands read 1:30 am. He mumbled under his breath and sat up. Padding over to the window he heard a noise. He froze, contemplating waking Ron. Silence. Well, apart from Neville's snores. 'Just my imagination.' He figured, sitting on the edge of his bed.

He wasn't tired. He had already been asleep but he had a nightmare and woke up. Racking his brains he tried to remember it. He remembered a…a…picture, Hermione, danger, clouds. He put on his glasses and decided to take a midnight stroll. He had been taking a lot of those lately. Fumbling for his invisibility cloak under his pillow, he pulled it on, quietly walked over to the door and walked out.

The castle of Hogwarts seemed different at night. Spooky, calm, quiet, romantic. Portraits whispered or snored quietly. Ghosts sometimes drifted through walls. Peeves caused night-time chaos in classrooms. Occasionally, 1st years darted through corridors on dares. They never saw Harry. Muffled shrieks escaped them, alerting Filch or Mrs Norris and normally a detention. Harry learnt his lesson that if he was to walk around at night he was to be quiet and avoid thick carpets as they showed his footsteps. No. He was wiser than they were.

Harry walked down one of the charms corridors, admiring the moon from the slit windows as he passed. Presently, he came to a corner. Something was different. Where once hung a rather tatty portrait of 'Sir Biffo the Septic Tank Cleaner' there hung a mirror. A tall, handsome, full length mirror. A gold frame surrounded it as it reflected the passage, which Harry had just walked down.

"Harry."

Harry whipped round. Someone had called his name. No one was there.

"Where are you going?"

"What are you doing?"

"Come over here!"

"Over here."

Avoiding screaming out loud, Harry turned and ran. The cruel voice laughed, high and blood curdling. Harry ran, out of the corridor and towards Dumbledore's office. Still the voices rang in his mind. A high voice. An evil voice. Voldemort's voice.