Harry sat straight up in bed. He rubbed his head and made a silent vow to never again drink butterbeer before going to bed. He looked around the room to see what had woken him up. Then Harry realized that it was just a twinge of pain from his arm. The arm which had been broken in his second year while playing Quidditch. Later that year, the same arm had been pierced through by the fang of a basilisk.
He got up and checked to see if everyone was still asleep. Yes—Ron, Neville, Dean, and Seamus were all fast asleep, Neville snoring fitfully. "And they should be," Harry thought, "Considering that it isn't even dawn yet."
Harry sighed as he got back into his four poster bed. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep, but he just wasn't tired. Then he got an idea. :Now what was that spell that Hermione taught me… Oh yes! Resto sixum!" And Harry's head fell back onto his pillow and he slipped into a deep, dreamless sleep.