(So of the four I could be writing, I've chosen this one. A few of you have been asking about thank you, and though I love it, it's very much on the back burner at the present , broken finger + shitty writing program + shitty keyboard + shitty editing skills = typos. Sorry.)

When you gaze long into the abyss,

the abyss also gazes into you.

Friedrich Nietzsche

"Could you imagine how much better everything would be; if you were free to make your own choices?"

Harry mentally sighed.

It was the same thing over and over, every night. And when he woke up, he forgot it all.

It was tiring.

"We've been through this," He told his creepy dream self.

"Of course precious," It snapped, all growly and offensive.

"But you still don't understand."

Harry said nothing.

He leant against the dream wall behind him, which, as usual, was black and matte. He had his ams crossed, which was also usual.

"Set. Us. Loose." The creature was losing its paitence, though it had mentioned that it could wait, more than once.

"There is a part of you itching for it," It murmered, sounding defeated for the night. This was the fourth dream since he had gone to bed.

"Yes, you're that part. And you're not winning." Harry snapped, exasperated.

"I am, he swore it!" The creature said with reverance, and Harry shouted at it.

"Who is HE?"

The sickly decayed creature grinned, and the alarm tore him from his dream.

He turned on his heel and stomped back to his bed.

Harry had entertained the idea, more than once, that it was Voldemort screwing with his head.

No matter which way he looked at it, it was his only conclusion.

It also didn't make much sense.

How had he gotten into Harry's head. Surely it was impossible? And if it wasn't, why hadn't this happened before?

"Mister Potter, what would I have if I mixed lemon mrytle with essence of poppy?"

Harry looked at the potions professor, his head in his left hand, his quill twirling in his right, where it had been for almost half an hour now. He had taken no notes.

"You know full well that I have no idea, Professor." Harry hadn't meant to sound sarcastic or rude. He was simply tired and overwhelmed.

He should have known Snape wouldn't have seen it that way.

Ron stiffened beside him, and he realised what he had said.

"Detention, after class."

This was Harry's last class for the day. It was friday.

He didn't think that he quite deserved that.

He sighed and glanced at Hermione, who was looking at him with sympathy. She quickly turned back to the potion she and Neville were brewing.

Harry didn't look at Ron, he knew that his friend qould be crestfallen, they had planned a chess match that would 'rival the gods' according to his ginger friend.

The Boy Who Lived was almost glad for the detention. He had never really liked chess. Not after first year.

He could scarcely believe his best friend was still into it, he had come out of the chess match the worst. Harry never mentioned it though.

When it came time to pack up, Harry did so slowly.

Ron and Hermione gave him a mournful look on the way out.

Harry nodded at them to say that he would be fine.

When the classroom was empty save for himself and Snape, the potions professor turned his back on the teen and commanded that he reorganize the potions stores.

Harry felt that that they didn't need to be moved around. He figured it was just one of Snapes favorite kinds of detention.

He didn't say that though, it would only serve to antagonize the professor further.

"How long do I have, sir?" Harry was already getting a headache from prolonged exposure to the potion fumes.

"An hour. No less."

Harry nodded and ducked his head to hide the scowl.

He began rearanging the ingredients that had magically disorganized themselves, grumpy already.

He was tired enough as it was, and didn't enjoy being singled out by Snape all the time. He just wanted to be treated like everyone else was.

"Harry! You're back! It wasn't to awful, was it?" Hermione greeted him with her usual concerned face.

"It wasn't to bad. I had to reorganize the potions stores. He didn't say much."

Hermione nodded, satisfied. Ron waved him over to the chess board and Harry sighed inwardly, but wandered over anyway.

Ron had won the chess game, and the three subsequent ones.

Hermione then forced him into doing his insanely boring herbology assignment.

He was secretly glad for the normalcy. He was beyond tired, but he didn't want to go to bed. He knew what would happen if he did, and he was over not knowing what was going on inside his own head.

It was close to nine o'clock when Ron went to bed, and he and Hermione were left alone in the common room.

"Harry-" She sounded tentitive and Harry's head shot up.

"What?" He asked, wary.

She was taken aback by the tone of his voice but pushed forward anyway.

"You've seemed really off lately," She leaned forward in her seat.

"Is everything okay?"

Harry sighed and leaned back.

"I haven't been sleeping well, that's all."

"Nightmares," She said it like she knew the answer already, but Harry shook his head.

"Not exactly. I have strange dreams, but I just keep waking up, and then its hard to get back to sleep."

She bit her lip and nodded, more to herself.

"What do you dream about?" She asked after a moment and Harry rubbed his eyes, yawning.

"I don't know. They wake me up and I forget." He didn't mention the sleepwalking. He didn't need the extra stress of Hermione on a mission.

"Maybe I could ask Madame Pomfrey about a sleeping draft for you?" She said, and Harry nodded, glad that was all she had offered.

She excused herself to sleep, and Harry made his way upstairs to his dorm, not trusting himself not to fall asleep outside his sleepwalking alarms confines.

"You wish to be treated with fairness but you won't accept it when it's offered to you."

"Here we go again, it's Captian Decay! With the amazing ability of doing nothing but pissing me off!" Harry spread his arms out wide as if he were intrducing a circus act.

"You should not mock me," The creature was crouched in semi darkness, across the 'Room' from Harry.

"You've given me no reason to respect you," Harry spat coldly.

"I can make you fear me." It told him matter of factly.

"Fear is nothing like respect." Harry said, turning his head away from the creature. He saw it grin first, it's mouth oozing something black.

"It is both."

"It is nothing," Harry growled, keeping his eyes fixed well away from the creature.

"You don't believe that. I can see inside you," It hummed, and Harry resisted the urge to glare at the creature.

"I do believe it. Completely." Harry tried to sound fierce but he was unnerved by its last comment.

"No, no no. You've known fear. You cannot truthfully say you do not respect those that put it in you."

Harry's head snapped back to the creature, that was still grinning widely and was now closer to him.

Harry didn't like it any better in the light, and its appearance made the words he was about to say stumble in his mouth.

It had wide eyes that swivelled crazily in its head, its hair matted and black, down past its shoulders. It was entirely naked and its mouth was still leaking black.

Harry took a step back despite himself.

"No. No I have no respect for Voldemort."

It tilted its head to the side and gurgled a laugh.

"He's the only one who puts fear in you? I'll be sure to let him know."

Harry grimaced at the thing, his lips curled back.

"So you are a peice of his handy work," Harry growled, taking another step back and wishing he could remember these dreams when he was awake.

"No, he put me here, you fed me your awfulness."

"Why'd he put you here, what are you?" There was a bubble of panic rising up in him and he realised that this was the longest conversation he'd ever had with the creature.

He tried to will himself awake, but it wasn't doing him any good.

"I'm him. And you. Like your minds met and had an ickle little baby." It tilted its head back and laughed uproariously.

Harry wanted to throw up.

"Don't worry Daddy, we'll be home soon. Very soon." The creature laughed harder.

Harry tried to wake himself more fervently, worried now.

Usually, by this point he was woken by the alarm in his head.

When his eyes opened he didn't have much time to take in his surroundings.

One thing was obvious straight away. The alarm had not gone off, because he had not stepped over the dorms threshhold.

He had simply taken his broom out of his cupboard and jumped out the window. He was still flying when he woke.

He pulled the broom to a halt and turned, expecting to see Hogwarts behind him.

It wasn't. He could see nothing but trees below him, and he knew without a shadow of a doubt that he was well beyond the safety of the wards.

He reached for his wand to point him back in the direction of the school, and the panic tripled when he found nothing where his wand should be.

"Oh," Was all that would come out of his mouth, though it felt like his heart might follow the word.

Whatever was going on inside his head at night, it had reached a fever pitch.

And because he had dismissed it so fervently, he was now in the middle of no where, unprotected and still in his pajamas.

Harry shook his head feircely and decided to land, he didn't know where he was, but he was to obvious a beacon floating in the sky.

He didn't recognise the forest, but he couldn't have possibly flown that far.

He stood amongst the trees for a long while, undecided.

Should he walk?

Did Dumbledore already know that he was missing? The wards should have alerted him, surely.

So should he just wait where he was? He turned around on the spot a few times, as if trying to walk away and stopping himself.

The painc was still gnawing in his gut, making him need to move, though his mind disaproved.

Stay where you are, He told himself.

Surely the headmaster had some way to track him down.

But what if someone else knew how to track him down? Someone who wanted him dead?

He did another half turn in the direction that he thought he had been coming from, and took a tentitive step forward.

He couldn't just stand there. He was getting cold, it was only getting darker and his heart was beating to fast for him to be just be standig there.

Being without his holly wand brought a whole new fear that he was unacustomed to feeling. He was as vunerable as a babe without it.

He hated feeling vunerable.

He pushed his glasses further up his nose, glad his sleeping self had grabbed those, at least.

He gathered his courage and started walking in earnest, not sure if he was heading in the right direction, but feeling better about doing something.

He wished he could perform wandless magic, he could have used a Lumos right then, or a point me.

Simple spells that required no energy; but he couldn't perform them without a stick.

He scowled and picked up his pace.

He made a promise to himself that if he survived, he'd learn some wandless magic. Even semi useless spells would be infinitely helpful right then.

"Harry Potter, all alone in the woods."

Harry spun at the voice, his stomach dropping in recognition.

Lucius Malfoy.

His mind whirled for a second, and he bolted. He couldn't see the elder Malfoy, and he hoped he wouldn't run right into him.

"Where are you going? I thought we could have a chat."

The voice was, thankfully, behind him.

Harry willed himself faster, using his terror as fuel. A spell shot past his head and he ducked, gasping for air already.

Another two spells shot past him, so close he felt the heat.

He turned to get a look at Malfoy, and ran straight into something solid.

Something that grunted on impact.

He fell on his behind and looked up, right into the eyes of an enormous man he didn't recognise.

"Petrificus totalus," The man grunted.

Harry felt his arms and legs bind together and fought against it instantly, but it was no use. He heard the underbrush rustle behind him and tried to turn and look.

"Good, good. Pick him up, the Dark Lord is waiting." Lucius said from behind Harry, and he wanted to kick and scream.

This couldn't be happening.

He was still dreaming, surely.

Still in his bed, safe and warm.

He squeezed his eyes shut as he felt himself being scooped up, willing it to be a dream.

Not happening, not happening, not happening, He felt the squeeze of a port key and wanted to throw up.

This was happening, and he was powerless to stop it.