A/N: Sorry about the shortness, as well as the wait. This is mainly a transitional chapter, nothing too exciting. Chapter 3 should be longer, and you'll start to hear more about why things are happening. Thanks for the review, kateg123!

A rather depressed-looking sixth-year sat on a maroon and gold armchair, watching his housemates filter in and out of the common room. He was one of only four people in there, as most students were occupied with classes.

Harry, on the other hand, had been excused from his classes for the day, because of his "condition". Dumbledore had tried to comfort him, but that, of course, did not help very much. The only consolation Harry had for his sudden loss of magic was that Dumbledore thought it was only temporary.

The Headmaster promised he would search for a way to get Harry's powers back, although first they would have to determine why they left their vessel in the first place. And in the meantime, no one but his closest friends, Ron and Hermione, were to know of his Harry's problem. Fair enough, Harry supposed.

The excuse for Harry not being in class was that he'd had a stomach bug all day, and Madame Pomfrey had decided it best for him to rest and avoid passing his sickness to his classmates. Hermione had wanted to forgo class so she could help her friend, but Dumbledore had asked her to "please go to class as usual" since it would look a little suspicious if both of them were out at the same time.

So that left Harry to brood on his troubles. He didn't even bother trying to use magic. It would just make him feel even worse. He certainly did not need that.

A terrifying thought came to him. What if he had to leave Hogwarts? People would start to wonder why he never attended class, why they never saw him perform magic. He couldn't pretend he had a stomach bug forever, that was for sure.

And if someone like Malfoy found out that Harry Potter had practically become a Squib, well, Harry would have to go about the castle with bodyguards following him everywhere. It would be embarrassing, to say the least.

"Hey, Harry," a smiling Ginny interrupted his downward-spiraling thinking. The boy looked up at her, wondering why she wasn't in class. "Is something wrong?" she inquired, noticing his expression.

"What time is it?" Harry asked, ignoring her question.

"I don't have a watch on, but I think it's about one 'o' clock. Lunch just started," the youngest Weasley explained. Much later than Harry had imagined, then. Ginny frowned. "It's pretty clear something's bothering you, Harry."

Her previous crush continued to avoid eye contact, formulating his cover story in his mind before he answered. "I've got food poisoning. Everything I ate at breakfast came back to haunt me, if you know what I mean," Harry explained, hoping he sounded convincing. Ginny seemed to accept his lie. "Pleasant. Well, I feel for you, if that's any consolation." Harry forced his lips to curve into a rather sickly-looking smile. There was a slight pause.

"Alright, I guess I should get to lunch then. I hope you feel better."

"Yeah, thanks. See you later."

"Bye!" Ginny called out as she walked through the portrait hole. Harry's stomach growled. He felt a little envious of his friends, who were most likely stuffing themselves in the Great Hall. Then he got an idea. No one else was in the common room, so, "Dobby?" Harry said to the air in front of him. Nothing happened for a moment. Suddenly there was a pop, and the adoring house elf appeared. "Yes, Harry-sir?" it squeaked excitedly.

"Hey, Dobby. I was wondering if you could grab me a little food…"

…O…

"We'll find a way to fix this, I'm sure. It's probably just a temporary thing, nothing to worry about," a still shocked Ron tried to soothe his friend. They were up in their dormitory, alone except for Hermione, and the boy Ron was attempting to comfort had just broken the bad news to him. "I don't know. I've never heard of anything like this happening to someone before. It's so weird," replied Harry.

"I doubt you're the only one that's gone through this, though. I mean, I haven't found anything on it yet, but I only had a half hour to look. And Dumbledore might have discovered something. You're going to meet up with him tomorrow morning, anyway. Just try to relax until then."

"How can I relax when---" Harry began, but he was cut off by the sound of their door opening. "Hermione, what are you doin' in here?" Seamus asked as Dean and Neville filed in, surprised to see a witch in their dormitory.

"Uh, just helping a friend. Harry's been really sick all day, so I had to check up on him before he turned in for the night," she covered.

"Yeah, well, you do realize it's almost ten 'o' clock, right?"

"Oh, no, I didn't. Well, I guess I better get going then, and Harry, remember to drink lots of fluids! Bye, Ron," Hermione added as she got up to leave.

After Hermione left, Ron got up to prepare for bed. Harry settled in to go to sleep, half-listening to his roommates' chatter. Darkness soon took over him as his mind switched over from worrying to blissful dreaming.

…O…

Early the next morning, Harry woke to find his dormitory looking much different than it had the night before. And not for the better. The once polished bed-frames were now peeling and seemed about to collapse. Their previously soft carpet had somehow completely disappeared.

In fact, Harry noted as his eyes took in the rest of the room, it appeared as though it had lost all its color and appeal, perhaps aging many decades overnight. "Hey, guys, wake up!" Harry urged. He hurried over to Ron's dilapidated bed, jolting him out of his deep sleep.

"What is it, mate?" the red-haired boy slurred out, barely comprehensible.

"Get up! Look at our room! There's something terribly wrong with it," his friend replied forcefully. The others were starting to awake as Ron sat up, opening his eyes blearily. They became wide as saucers though, as he got a good eyeful of their dormitory.

"Bloody hell!" the usually reserved Neville exclaimed, voicing the others thoughts as they realized their surroundings. "I think we need to alert Professor McGonagall about this," someone suggested.

"Yeah, but who's brave enough to walk out of this room? It might just collapse under our feet, judging by the condition it's in," said Dean, only half-joking. Harry volunteered to do it, leaving to fetch their Head of House, all the while puzzling over what could have possibly happened.