WAKE-UP CALL

Harry Potter had been in the midst of a most unusual dream when it happened.

One minute he'd been floating through a dark forest on his Firebolt, following a strange silvery mist as blue-green fire crackled in the distance, and then the next thing he knew he was waking up to a bloodcurdling scream as something loud slammed.

Fumbling wildly with his hangings as Ron's scream echoed through the air, Harry heard the rest of his dorm mates cursing as well as someone cast a lumos to light up the dark room. As he finally got his hangings open, snatching up his wand to hex Ron into next week, he saw that Ron hadn't merely had a nightmare – but he was sitting there holding his hangings out looking terrified.

Hangings that had a single jagged tear cut straight through them.

"Lemme at 'im," Seamus' sleepy voice slurred, his accent only getting worse in his half-awake state.

"BLACK!" Ron shouted wildly, his voice cracking. "SIRIUS BLACK! WITH A KNIFE!"

"What?" Dean's voice blurted nervously as Harry stared at the torn hangings, something cold burning in his stomach.

"Somethi- something woke me up!" Ron rambled, "I thought one of you guys had got up so I opened my hangings to see and there he was! I- I screamed and he slashed at me as I tried to shut him out and then he was gone!"

"Seriously?"

"Yeah! Sirius! Sirius Black!" Ron agreed, all of them scrambling out of their beds as the realisation sank in.

Reaching the door first, Harry was throwing it open and sprinting down the stairs with the others behind him, reaching the common room with his wand raised. If Black had been there, he was gone now, the common room being as empty as it'd been when McGonagall had chased them all up to bed.

"Are you sure you weren't dreaming, Ron?" Dean asked hesitantly as they looked around.

"You saw the curtains!" Ron defended, the boy standing near the wall trembling, "It was him. He was there!"

Slowly the common room began to fill up, boys and girls staggering in sleepily as they pulled on dressing gowns and robes. Questions filled the air too, "Who screamed?", "What's going on?", and even Fred asking "Excellent! Are we restarting the party?"

"EVERYONE BACK UPSTAIRS!" Percy Weasley finally shouted, the boy struggling to pin his Head Boy's badge to his chest as he staggered into the common room. "I AM HEAD BOY, AND I SAY THIS PARTY IS OVER! I WILL START ASSIGNING DETENTIONS NOW IF YOU DON'T-"

"OH SHUT UP YOU BLOODY PRAT!" Harry shouted, cutting the annoying Weasley off. "Nobody cares if you're Head Boy! Every bloody time you say something to us it's about you being Head Boy!"

As people around the common room muttered their agreement, Percy straightened his back and shoulders, looking down his nose at all of them. "I will not allow you to speak to me that way Potter, I'm Head Boy and-" when Percy was cut off by groans across the common room he faltered and sneered at them all, Ron's words preventing him from speaking again.

"It was Sirius Black, Perce," the red-head said quietly, his voice making the entire room go silent, "He was in our dormitory, by my bed, with a knife".

"No-nonsense!" Percy exclaimed, looking startled and ill at the same time. "That- That can't be real. You must have had too much to drink, or-"

"He was there," Neville interrupted as Percy trailed off weakly, "His hangings were cut open, and I heard the door slamming shut when Ron screamed".

Percy was at Ron's side in an instant, hands roaming across his brother's body nervously as the boy started quoting word for word something about 'checking for exterior wounds before calling for medical aid'. "Gred! Forge! Go get McGonagall! NOW! Stay together whatever you do! If you see anyone you don't recognise, hex them and in Merlin's name get out of there," he ordered, the twins nodding and surging towards the door immediately.

The portrait swung open before they could reach it however and McGonagall stepped in, clad in a long tartan nightgown at swept the floor as she moved. "Now really! Enough is enough!" she scolded as she entered the common room, "I am delighted that Gryffindor won that match, but this is getting ridicu-" she froze as she finally looked around the room, sensing just from the mood of the gathered students that something was wrong. "What happened?" she finally asked.

"It's nothing, Professor," Percy pipped up quickly, "My brother Ron here, he just had a bad nightmare-"

"IT WASN'T A NIGHTMARE!" Ron screamed desperately. "SIRIUS BLACK WAS STANDING OVER ME WITH A BLOODY KNIFE! IT WASN'T A NIGHTMARE!"

Professor McGonagall stared. For a moment it looked like she was going to dismiss him out of hand, but the nodding of Harry and the rest of his dorm mates changed her mind. "How could he have possibly gotten in here?" she asked instead.

"I don't know! Ask him!" Ron exclaimed, jabbing a finger at the portrait hole.

Letting out a calming breath, the Professor turned and left the common room, leaving the door open behind her as she did. "Sir Cadogan, did you just let a man enter Gryffindor Tower?"

"Certainly, good lady!" cried out Sir Cadogan, everyone both inside and outside of the common room falling into stunned silence. "He had the passwords!" the portrait continued when it seemed like McGonagall was too stupefied to speak, "Read 'em off a little piece of paper!"

McGonagall finally reacted, pulling herself back into the common room with a face as white as chalk. "Which person," she ground out, "Which abysmally foolish person wrote down this week's passwords and left them lying about?"

Silence answered her for a moment, before Neville Longbottom, trembling from head to fluffy-slippered toes slowly stepped forward and raised his hand into the air. Realising what was about to happen, Harry reacted quickly, stepping forward as well and shoving his own hand into the air. All around the common room other hands rose as well, even Ron's rising after a little bit of hesitation.

"They weren't this week's passwords," Fred (or George) corrected quietly, "They were just today's. Sir Cadogan changes the password three times a day ("Four times on Tuesdays," George (or Fred) added, "And on Sundays he just makes them up as he goes along") if we don't write them down then we're stuck outside until someone else shows up. One of us goes out to get the passwords for the day and pins them up on the noticeboard every morning".

McGonagall looked between them all with a startled expression, unable to tell whether they were lying to protect Neville or if it were true. (Harry didn't know if they were lying to protect Neville or not, he just knew that Neville was going to get in a lot of trouble he didn't deserve when Harry himself had a list of the day's passwords upstairs that he usually got from the noticeboard)

"Stay here," McGonagall ordered, "No one is to leave the Tower until I come to tell you otherwise. Seventh years, I want you all in the common room waiting. If anyone enters this Tower that is not myself or a teacher, you are to curse first, ask questions later".

"Harry? Are you alright?"

Lifting his forehead from his knees, Harry blinked up at Hermione as she climbed up onto the window sill opposite him and wiggled until she was comfortable. "You're being quiet, it took me ages to find you, like you'd cast a notice-me-not charm on yourself," she explained pointedly.

If he had then Harry didn't remember, leaving him to just shrug aimlessly. "I could have died," he whispered slowly, "I almost did".

Hermione just blinked, "But Black attacked Ron, not you," she pointed out.

"He wasn't after Ron," Harry corrected, making Hermione's eyes widen. "He got the wrong bed".

"Oh Harry," his friend exhaled, reaching out to grasp his hands, placing them on his knees as she stared at him. She didn't say anything else at first, the two of them just sitting there in the quiet common room as Ron's voice telling the story of his near-death experience reached their ears. "I- what are we going to do? He's a Death Eater, we can't fight him on our own". Harry blinked up at her in shock, making her roll her eyes at him. "I made you promise not to go after him, Harry, but if he can get into the Tower-" she faltered as Harry flinched.

"I'm cold, Hermione," he admitted slowly.

"You're only wearing a shirt and pyjama pants," Hermione pointed out, "We can move closer to the fire?"

"No, I'm cold," Harry repeated, tugging a hand free to rub his chest, "In here".

Hermione's hands tightened around the hand she still held, making Harry grimace and wiggle his fingers so she'd loosen her grip a little. "I don't know what to do," he continued, "He's trying to kill me, he almost succeeded. If he can get into the Tower then how can I stop him? I'm only a third year".

Feeling the sudden urge to be alone, Harry tugged his hand free and climbed off the window sill, heading up the spiral staircase and into his dormitory. Footsteps behind him made him climb onto his bed and sit cross-legged, staring at the torn hangings on Ron's bed as he felt Hermione climbing onto the bed beside him.

"I don't want to die," he confessed slowly, "I haven't thought about it ever since I met Hagrid". Ignoring Hermione's startled gasp beside him, Harry shifted until his legs were tucked against his chest and he could rest his chin on his knees again. "I'm happy here, I have you and Ron, and magic. I don't want to die".

"You- You're not going to die, Harry," Hermione insisted weakly from beside him.

"Aren't I?" he shot back, turning his head just enough so he could watch her. "You said yourself. Black's a Death Eater, I can't fight him on my own".

"I said 'we can't fight him on our own'," Hermione corrected with a sniff, "You threw yourself onto a troll's back to save me, what kind of friend would I be if I left you to fight Black on your own? I love my parents, Harry," she continued, "If someone killed them, then I wouldn't hesitate to get revenge. What kind of person would I be if I stopped you?"

"A stinky one," Harry muttered under his breath, making Hermione snort in amusement. "You mean it? You'll help?"

"I won't help you find him," Hermione corrected firmly, "But if he were to find us, then I'd hold him down for you".

A weak smile flashing across his face for a moment, Harry pulled himself off the bed and padded over to Ron's. "Why didn't he kill me?" he asked slowly as he ran his fingers along the torn edge of the curtain, "Why didn't he just silence Ron and come after me?"

"Well Ron said he had a knife, maybe he doesn't have a wand?" Hermione suggested, Harry shrugging at her answer.

"Good," Harry declared firmly, "It'll make killing him easier".

"Harry," Hermione said warningly.

"What? You said you'd help," Harry countered defensively.

"I did," Hermione agreed. "But others haven't," she explained simply, looking towards the open dormitory door pointedly, "I doubt they'd understand. We are plotting murder here after all".

She had a point, Harry realised as he backed up to sit on his bed again. Then again, Hermione normally had a point. Not moving as he felt her shuffling up his bed to sit beside him, resting her head against his shoulder, Harry just sighed and leaned against her as well.

"Do you think Ron's realised it yet?" he asked slowly.

"That the food's not going to vanish if he doesn't shovel as much of it in his mouth as he humanly can?" Hermione questioned bluntly.

"That Black was after me, not him," Harry corrected, face scrunching up in disgust at his friend's eating habits. "He seemed pretty content soaking up all the attention everyone's giving him," he clarified when he felt Hermione frowning against his shoulder, "And I don't think he's ever going to learn to slow down when eating. I've eaten at the Burrow before, they're all like that".

"Explains a lot," Hermione muttered under her breath, "And no. I don't think he'll realise it until someone points it out to him, he's usually rather dense like that".

"You can say that again," Harry deadpanned.

"He's usually rather dense like that," Hermione repeated. "What? I've been waiting to say that for ages," she explained when Harry shot her a look, "You can't deny it, Ron's not exactly the brightest crayon in the box".

"You've been in a rather bad mood with him lately," Harry noticed.

"He's taking Crookshanks out on me, it's not my fault that cats eat rats," Hermione exclaimed angrily, "And it's not like he's going after all rats. That girl in fourth year, Miranda something? She's got two rats and yesterday I caught Crookshanks bathing one of them. So it's only Scabbers that he doesn't like".

As the two of them made themselves more comfortable, leaning against Harry's headboard, the boy in question found his mind heading towards uncomfortable territory. Hermione had said they were plotting murder, and while she was correct, Harry was concerned about why neither of them were worried about it. Planning to kill someone was something rather big, shouldn't there be some hesitance? Shouldn't one of them be trying to talk the other of taking another's life? Looking down at Hermione who was still slumped against his side, quietly talking about something she'd learned in Ancient Runes, Harry was a little shocked to find himself glad she wasn't trying to stop him. Ron would try, the red-head had already brought up his dislike of Harry's desire for vengeance – although Ron's dislike was more centred around the fact that Black was dangerous and not because Harry wanted to kill Black.

"We should learn some new spells," he said suddenly, interrupting Hermione mid-sentence. "You were right, we can't fight him on our own. We should learn some new spells," he explained. "We can't exactly beat him with 'expelliarmus' can we?"

"No. I guess we can't," Hermione agreed unhappily, "What kind of spells were you thinking of?" she asked hesitantly.

"Duelling spells," Harry said simply, shrugging as she glanced up at him. "Maybe we could try find a list of the spells Aurors are taught," he suggested, making Hermione relax with a sigh.

"Maybe we can," she agreed, "You know what this means right?"

"We need to go to the Library," Harry confirmed, "Don't worry Hermione, I'm sure I won't burst into flames at the sight of all those books. I'm not a vampire entering a church you know, I can handle a little sun".

WAKE-UP CALL

So this is a story born of my desire to write ideas that don't start in 4th/5th year like mine normally do.