( A/N: This story, at present, is holding my attention. Along with Contingency Plan. Liquida Tenebris and Thank You are up for adoption, if you hadn't seen. Inbox me if you wish to write them, but know that I may come back to them at a later date without much warning. Of course, I wont take them off you, if that's the case. Anyway, lets see where this goes.)

Broken Crown; Mumford and Sons.

The pull on my flesh was just too strong,
Stifled the choice and the air in my lungs.
Better not to breathe than to breathe a lie,
Cos when I open my body I breathe a lie.

I will not speak of your sin,
There was a way out for him,
The mirror shows not,
Your values are all shot,

But oh, my heart was flawed.
I knew my weakness,
So hold my hand consign me not to darkness.

So crawl on my belly till the sun goes down,
I'll never wear your broken crown.

I took the road and I fucked it all away,
Now in this twilight how dare you speak of grace?

Harry's mind was far from the strange incidents of the Quiddich Cup, now that he was safe back at Hogwarts, breathing in the familiar smells and smiling, burying his head a little deeper into his pillow.

Ron had only just stopped chattering about the Tri-Wizard Tournament.

He seemed pretty convinced that the twins could figure out a way to get their own names in. And if they could, surely Ron could.

Harry had shrugged quite a lot through that conversation.

He figured the further he stayed away from this tournament the better for everyone involved.

In the end Harry had to pretend to be asleep for his ginger friend to stop talking. Eventually, the feigned sleep became real sleep, and Harry found himself dreaming his Aunt Petunia's face inflating and going an odd shade of purple.

'You need to go to him, and soon," His Aunt said, her fat lips the color of plums.

Harry felt himself nodding, and smiling at the ridiculousness in front of him.

"So you will, then?" She asked, and he frowned.

He will what? He shook himself a little and blinked at her. Her face was changing again. It wasn't purple and she looked more like a man now.

"It will be better for you," The thing cooed, tilting its head and reaching for him. Harry took a step back, but found a wall right behind him.

"You'll be free to do as you please. No war, no fear. You can just breathe. Wouldn't that be nice?" The thing smiled and Harry found he could scarcely focus on it's face. He could see decay, but he couldn't. And he felt he recognized it.

The thing was still reaching for him, and when it's hand touched his cheek, he started back so violently that he woke himself.

And he was no longer in his bed.

He was pressed up against the great halls doors, on the outside.

"What," He hissed, pulling the invisibility cloak he'd somehow grabbed in his sleep closer.

His breathing was coming in harsh puffs, and he wondered if he was hyperventilating. The dream he had been having was slipping fast from his mind, no matter how he tried to remember. He knew it was important, but that didn't seem to keep it in his head.

The tips of his fingers hurt with the force of holding the cloak so tight. He took a steadying breath and pushed the great doors open, hoping there was no one on the other side.

"Well, the goblet is almost ready to make its decision," Dumbledore addressed the hall, and Ron leaned forward in his seat.

"I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when the champions' names are called, I would ask them please to come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table and go through into the next chamber" -He gestured at the door he spoke of- "where they will be receiving their first instructions."

Dumbledore extinguished all the candles with a great dramatic sweep of his wand, the jack-lanterns the only light besides the cup itself, which was so bright it almost hurt to look at.

"Any second," Lee Jordan murmured, it didn't seem as if he was talking to anyone in particular.

Almost as soon as Lee had spoken, the cup started spitting sparks and a tongue of fire threw a charred piece of paper directly into Dumbledore's outstretched hand.

"The champion for Durmstrang, will be Viktor Krum." Dumbledore called, and the uproar was instant. Harry figured he was the only one not cheering like a lunatic.

Viktor rose from his seat at the Slytherin table and walked toward the staff table as if he were just going for a bathroom break.

Soon after, everyone refocused on the cup.

A second piece or parchment shot from the flames.

"The champion for Beauxbatons," Dumbledore gave room for dramatic pause, "Is Fleur Delacour!" A few girls from Beauxbatons cried. Everyone else either glared at her, (The girls,) or cheered and catcalled. (The boys.)

Silence fell once more, though it was noticeably more tense. Hogwarts next.

"The Hogwarts champion," The pause here was greater here than any other and Harry swore that he could see a sly grin on his headmasters face.

"Is Cedric Diggory!"

"No!" Ron shouted, sounding heart broken, though no one heard him over the roar of the Hufflepuff table.

He made his way to the staff table, grinning hugely, and pushed the door open, disappearing from view. Though that didn't stop the applause.

It went on so long that Dumbledore seemed about to silence them all, before silence came on its own.

"Excellent!" He called happily, his arms spread as if to embrace everyone in the Hall.

"Well, we know have our three champions. I am sure I can count upon all of you, including the remaining students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to give your champions every ounce of support you can muster. By cheering your champion on, you will contribute in a very real way. Now, I'm sure you all have a lot to talk about." He raised his arms again and gave a little bow, before exiting the hall through the door the champions had used earlier.

"I Can't believe we're being represented by a Hufflepuff," Ron whined.

"We're doomed. Durmstrang will win for sure."

Harry couldn't figure why that mattered overly much, but nodded solemnly to share his friends disappointment.

"I think you should both just be glad that you didn't manage to get your names in the goblet." Hermione said, her eyebrows wiggling like they did when she was going into full mother mode.

"It's far to dangerous." She told them, nodding to herself.

Harry did agree with her, but he didn't say so.

He'd been feeling quite disconnected lately, from his friends and his school life. He figured it was because he hadn't been sleeping well.

He'd been sleepwalking a lot, so he had set an alarm that went off solely in his own head when he passed the threshold of his dorm.

He'd been woken up more and more by that alarm, sometimes three or four times a night.

Then he'd lay awake trying to remember what he had dreamt about. For hours.

But he could never remember much besides something calling him.

It had him worried, but he hadn't told anyone.

They would be consumed by the need to figure out what was going on. And he was so through with being the center of attention, so through with always having something deeply wrong with him. So he'd figure it out himself.

He imagined it was just stress, stress that had not yet bled away as it usually did when he returned to school.

And so what? He sleepwalked. Considering all he had been through it was a pretty mild side effect.

Plenty of people sleepwalked. Even Seamus did, on occasion.

But he knew, if he told anyone, he'd be under the microscope once again, and sleepwalking would be some symptom of imminent doom.

"Now, look into the crystals, and write down what you see. You must open your minds to the fullest of your ability." Professor Trelawney said, making Ron snort.

Harry had to hide one himself. Nonetheless, he stared into his lump of crystal, which wasn't even see through, and plopped his head into his left hand.

Though he used to enjoy the complete lack of effort this class required, now it bored him beyond belief. His eyes wandered to the stained glass windows and his mind wandered to what he'd rather be doing. Flying, chess, even potions didn't seem so bad right then.

My Harry, The crystal purred, and his eyes snapped back to it. It seemed to be clouded by venomous looking green smoke, but a quick glance around the room told him that no one else was seeing what he was seeing.

You resist me so, It spoke again, and Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat, debating whether to call Trelawney or wait it out.

He did have to admit that he was curious. He had always dismissed divination as total bull.

You resist yourself more than any other. I grow tired of it. You will come to me, you are mine.

The Boy Who Lived blinked at the crystal, concerned and feeling slightly ill. The green cloud sucked back into the stone, and Harry blinked up at Ron, who was still writing something with his tongue out of his mouth a little bit.

Another look around the room told him that no one had heard or seen it at all, and Harry wondered what exactly had just happened.

"Professor Trelawney," He muttered, then again more loudly when she ignored him.

"Yes, my dear boy?"

"I'm really not feeling so good. Could I be excused?"

Ron looked at him with a 'how could you leave me here?' frown.

"Oh, oh of course, dear." She shooed him out of his seat and he headed straight for his bed, knowing the sick feeling in his gut wasn't going to be fixed by anything Madam Pomfrey could give him.

"Harry,"

"Harry, don't you want to be free? Why don't you want to be free? We could be free." The figure from his dreams was becoming quite insistent.

"I don't know what you are," He told it for the hundredth time, waiting for the alarm to wake him, as it always did.

"I'm you, trapped in here, under this mockery of you. You are no martyr." It always spoke nonsense when he asked it that.

He knew he was no martyr.

And he was himself.

"What do you want?" Harry asked, looking anywhere but at the rotted thing that claimed to be him.

If this thing was him, then who was he?

"Freedom!" It snarled, swiftly stepping forward as if to strike him, and Harry flinched but didn't move.

"I don't trust you." 'He told it when it became clear it wasn't going to land a blow.

"No one ever will."

"What does that even mean?!" Harry snapped, now glaring at the monstrous thing.

"Let. Me. Out. Let us out. I know you want to, I am you, and I want to." It seemed almost on the verge of begging, and Harry frowned.

"What are you," He asked again, more to himself. He almost wanted to help it, but he couldn't, not without knowing what it wanted. What it really wanted.

"I am patience. And I will wait. Because you will go, and we'll taste real freedom. He swore it to me."

The alarm blared in his head and he woke for the third time that night, the dream slipping fast from his mind as he climbed back into his four poster bed and glared at the ceiling.