Chapter 2: Haunted in His Sleep

The weekend came to a close and the week started again, meaning classes. Harry was sitting in DADA looking up at their teacher, Professor Koley, a middle aged, blonde witch whose mother had been an Auror. Harry doubted she would stay for next year too, things were getting darker by the week and no other Defence Against the Dark Arts professor had managed to remain teaching for longer than a year.

"Okay wands out," she instructed clapping her hands to gain the attention of her students. "I hope you've all memorised your incantations as I set for homework. If you have you can start practising," she flicked her wand at the end of her sentence and each students found a small animal of some sort of their desk. Harry's was a gerbil and Ron's was a budgie. "Begin!" Professor Koley instructed.

Harry waved his wand effortlessly, "Impedimenta" he muttered and instantly his gerbil refrained from twitching.

"Wish we could do something more interesting," Ron sighed and he too stunned his budgie.

"Yea, I mean Koley's nice an all but we need to get onto the heavier stuff," Harry agreed.

"Even Neville can pull off all these spells!" Ron said.

"Yea. But he has his own wand now – he's better at everything it's pretty shocking."

"Mmm," Ron agreed, "Stupefy," he said as his budgie starting tweeting again.

Harry flicked his wand at his own animal and stunned it, then continued talking to Ron.

"You think we should – hey what's that?" he asked, distracted by a piece of parchment Ron was shoving into his robes.

"Nothing," Ron muttered.

"What is it?" Harry asked grinning.

"Nothing." But this time it was Hermione who spoke. Harry turned around to face her instead. Her cheeks were pink.

Harry smiled, "Did you just send Ron a note? A note that I'm not allowed to read?"

"Oh don't be ridiculous Harry so what if I have?"

Harry leant back in his chair, his arms folded up behind his head, "Hermione loves Ronny," he sang jokingly but Ron kicked him sharply under the table. Harry looked at Ron's red face and his mouth fell slightly open. No way.

"Ron!" Harry hissed as they walked along the corridor towards Gryffindor Tower after the lesson.

"Yea?" Ron replied, still walking fast.

Harry walked next to him, "Do you like Hermione?"

Ron laughed, "Of course I like her! She's our best friend!"

"No! No I mean do you LIKE her?" Harry repeated.

Ron shrugged clearing his throat. "You do don't you!" Harry said beaming.

"No, not like that," Ron shook his head.

"Oh yes you do!" Harry said gleefully as they turned a corner to walk up the staircases. "Come on I'm your best friend! I tell you everything! I won't laugh, promise."

Ron sighed and kept walking up the stairs. "Ok I do," he muttered.

Harry laughed but immediately clapped his hand to his mouth. "I wasn't laughing at you like that… I was just – it's great when you get someone to admit something … I wasn't laughing at you!" he insisted.

Ron smiled, "Yea, sure buddy."

Harry grinned, "Do you think she likes you?" he asked as they walked along another corridor, the crowd now thinning as students took their individual paths.

Ron shrugged.

"What did the note say?" Harry persisted.

"Nothing," Ron smirked.

"Aw come on!" Harry badgered. "I told you all about me and Cho!"

"Well ok I reckon she likes me," Ron said, unable to resist smiling as he said it aloud.

Harry whooped. "So are you two gonna get together?"

"Maybe. Hope so," Ron nodded. "Up to her."

"Ask her out!" Harry said.

"I have."

"And?" They walked up yet another wide staircase.

"I don't know yet I sent it by owl at lunchtime she hasn't got it yet."

"You didn't ask her to her face?" Harry asked.

"Nah."

Harry sighed, "I reckon she'll say 'yes'!"

Ron suddenly looked a bit queasy, "Hope so."

"Just be confident, mate – you'll be ok!"

Ron nodded and said nothing.

They walked together along another corridor, pulled aside a tapestry and continued walking.

"So, who do you like?" Ron asked.

Harry shook his head, "No-one," he replied instantly.

"If you're going to lie don't answer so quickly," Ron advised, "Something I learnt from Fred and George."

Harry hid a smile, "Ok then I do like someone."

"Who?"

"Never mind," he said suddenly regretting ever bringing it up.

"Who!" Ron said nudging him in the shoulders.

Harry shook his head. "Have we got much homework tonight?" he asked, changing the subject.

"I don't know," Ron answered. "So who's the lucky girl?" he asked.

"McGonagall," Harry said.

Ron's jaw dropped and his eyes widened. "PROFESSOR MCG-?" but as the portrait hole swung open he realised Harry hadn't answered his question but had told the fat lady the password.

The afternoon passed pretty uneventfully and Harry was lying in his bed, tracing the red groove on his palm. It was healing pretty fast and didn't hurt anymore. Harry looked up at the ceiling above him. Neville was muttering and Seamus was snoring. Dean still hadn't returned from the hospital wing. As the clouds moved outside, shadows stretched and shrunk above Harry. He rolled over and sank his face into his pillow. A hour later he finally fell asleep, his curtains flapping gently in the breeze, occasionally brushing past his face.

Harry could hear someone whispering. It was all dark….Whispers …… There was a swish of material. Harry knew the material, he recognised it. The blackness around him was getting heavier. He was in a large room. Whispering. There was the material again… swaying … moving …. so slowly …. He was hypnotised by it. He took a step closer, every tiny hair on his body standing on end. The murmured whispers became clearer. Harry put his hand out in front of his face and slowly extended it. He longed to touch the veil… the whisperings were mesmerising him… he breathed out … every tiny nerve in his finger tips was tingling …only centimetres away. The whisperings were growing louder, there were more … many more than he'd first heard. Harry stretched out his finger tips, so close he could feel the cool breeze blowing onto his hand. He wanted to feel the velvet against his flesh. "Sirius?" he whispered. "Are you there?"

The black veil had been haunting his dreams for months. Sometimes he had recurring dreams, sometimes with alternate endings or other times totally different altogether. So once again, Harry found himself lying awake, thinking about that damned archway. If only he could forget it. But that would mean forgetting Sirius, something he could never do – not even if he wanted to. Harry squeezed his eyes shut and forced himself to go to sleep again.

The next day passed as most days did, although this lunchtime was slightly less boring considering the trio could watch Professor McGonagall scolding Malfoy for 'lurking suspiciously around the dungeons'. After 6 hours full of lessons Harry was back with his feet up by the fire relaxing with his two best friends.

"Hey Ron," Hermione said suddenly. Ron looked at her. "Pigwidgeon gave me a note yesterday when I got back to the dorms…" her sentence trailed off as she waited for recognition from Ron.

Harry listened intently.

"Oh yea," Ron said.

"And I er – I reckon it's a um – a good idea. It would be good, yanno?"

Harry smiled a tiny bit, realising that Hermione was trying not to mention what was actually in the letter with Harry right beside her.

Ron grinned, "Yea ok cool!"

"Yea!" Hermione agreed, smiling.

Silence lapsed over them. After 10 painful seconds Harry laughed. "You two are going to date and already you have nothing to say!?" he scoffed, playfully.

"What?! Who said we were dating?" Hermione exclaimed looking astonished.

For a fleeting second, Harry thought he must've gotten confused somewhere during the conversation and that he'd just made a complete fool of himself.

"Nah, Hermione, it's ok," Ron said.

Hermione shrugged, "Ok then."

Harry brushed his messy fringe out of face and said seriously, "Hey guys do you think we should start up the DA again?"

Ron and Hermione both looked at him.

"I mean … I know better than anyone – except maybe Dumbledore – that Voldemort's getting stronger. Look what my scar did to me the other night it was so hot!" He brandished his palm at the two of them. Ron seemed unfazed but Hermione's jaw dropped open and her eyes widened. Harry continued, "We really need to get-"

"Harry!" Hermione interrupted, "Y – Your … Your scar burnt an imprint of itself onto your hand?" she exclaimed.

"Yep it's nearly all healed though now … it wasn't very serious," Harry said waving in hand dismissively.

"Oh yes it is! Never in 15 years has your scar heated up so much it scorched whatever came into contact with it!" Hermione argued.

"Exactly so we need to-"

"Tell Dumbledore!" Hermione finished for him, looking sternly at him.

"Oh come on! I'm not a baby! He doesn't need to now about this! What am I supposed to say anyway? 'Hey Professor just thought I'd pop by, say hello and oh thought you might want to know my scar got pretty hot the other day and left a cut on my hand, pretty interesting eh? I'll be off now then' … as if Hermione!"

"Harry no! You don't understand! This could mean something really important! We have to tell Professor Dumbeldore!"

"No we don't we have to start the DA again we need people to learn more Defence – he's back and he's getting stronger than ever – people need to be able to defend themselves – people have to know what to expect – they have to be prepared – we have to help prepare them for what's out there! They don't understand they haven't seen what we've seen! They don't know what it's like! They-"

"Harry I agree with you," Hermione interrupted again. "But we really should see Dumbledore about your scar. When did it happen? And why didn't you tell me about it before this?"

"I'm sorry," Harry apologised, not sounding it at all, "And it was a few days ago."

"At night?"

"Yea duh I was having another nightmare wasn't I?" Harry told her.

"What about?"

Harry suddenly fell silent. He looked at the soft red carpeted floor and the warm flickering light of the fire casting grey shadows up the walls.

There was a long pause where Hermione and Ron swapped worried looks.

Hermione sighed, "Harry," she said speaking gently now, "We know how much this must hurt you to talk about …. but you have to tell us what you were dreaming of when your scar went crazy. It could be really, really important."

Harry sighed and looked up at the ceiling, his fringe, now beaded with a few sweatdrops hanging limp as his head tipped back.

Hermione opened her mouth again but Ron grabbed her hand. "Don't," he whispered.

Hermione looked at Harry's body, hanging off the soft brown easy chair with his hair stretching out to the ground in stringy clumps and his eyes staring with the fire reflected in them, his chest rising and sinking slowly as he took each breath.

She sighed and blinked, "Oh Ron what are we going to do?" she said under her breath. "He can't handle this alone but he won't talk about it!"

Ron shrugged. "Let's leave him alone a while," he suggested.

Hermione, looking very upset, agreed and got up slowly from the couch.