The remaining days of the holiday passed by quietly, and Harry was finally able to get the much-needed rest that he had been craving. To his delight, his two best friends didn't dwell on their Yule Ball argument for long. Instead, they started a new debate the very next day, and, as usual, their despised dungeon professor was at fault.

Ron recounted to Hermione everything he knew about Snape, Moody, and Karkaroff, with a particular emphasis on his suspicions about Snape being after Harry's neck. Hermione, on the other hand, argued that if Dumbledore trusted Snape, they should trust him too, and considered the matter closed. She seemed fed up with the endless conspiracy theories about the professor, leading to a disagreement between the two friends. Harry skillfully decided not to take sides, becoming quite adept at it. The heated conversation continued until lunch, when Ron finally decided to drop the issue and ended his speech with a mouthful of food and a drumstick in his hand, threatening, "We'll soon see where the truth lies. But if I'm correct, I'll make sure to take care of that git myself."

Other days were less memorable than this one, and became a blur to Harry once he tried to recall them. They played games, spent some time outside, ate excessive amounts of food, and slept in late.

Harry didn't reminisce about Yule Ball once.

The dream that Harry had after the ball greatly contributed to his decision to pretend that the event never happened. In the dream, he was participating in the third task, which involved dancing on the back of a flying dragon with Malfoy, who was wearing Ron's robes, as his partner. Percy was their sole judge, hovering around them on a broomstick and explaining the importance of silver cauldrons. As if that wasn't enough, Harry had to dodge golden eggs thrown at him by Cedric from afar while he yelled at Harry to seek the answer from the Giant Squid.

Harry woke up exhausted and traumatized, and when he remembered the reality of the ball, he didn't feel much better. Naturally, he did the only thing any teenager would do with an embarrassing memory: he buried it deep within his soul, hoping to forget it for good. Even when Ron occasionally reminded him of the day, his lines ranging from "I think we impressed Lavender with our dance, she's been talking about it nonstop" to "What do you think Snape's up to today? Let's not forget how he acted with Karkaroff. Look, they're talking at the table again!" Harry stubbornly refused to acknowledge it. He couldn't have Snape on his mind and simultaneously enjoy his holidays; the choice was easy.

Worst of all, Hermione tried to bring up the other topic that belonged to the "I'm not going to think about this during the holidays" pile - the Tournament. She mentioned the second task and the golden egg, but Harry promptly shut her down, claiming he had been working on it.

He wasn't completely lying, as he did ponder on the problem for a little bit after Cedric's weird advice, but then he tucked it away where it belonged - to the back of his mind.

As the new term drew closer, Harry felt a persistent unease gnawing at him, as if something was brewing just beneath the surface. It made him edgy and irritable, even though he couldn't quite put his finger on why he felt that way. The first few days of school had gone smoothly, and everything seemed quiet and uneventful, which only added to Harry's anxiety. It felt like the calm before a storm. Even Snape, his usual malevolent self, seemed almost tolerable in comparison to Harry's endless relentlessness.

Despite the apparent peace, Harry refused to let his guard down. He remained alert and watchful, constantly scanning his surroundings for any signs of danger. At times, he even caught himself acting like Moody, with his ever-vigilant demeanour. However, it was precisely this constant vigilance that allowed Harry to take the news of Hagrid's half-giant ancestry with casual indifference. In fact, he almost felt relieved that something had finally happened, as it gave him permission to finally let his guard down.

If only the life of Harry Potter was that simple.

It all started after Harry managed to throw off the Imperius Curse. It wasn't as epic as he thought it would be, and no triumphant fanfares were heralding his success when he regained control of his own mind. Moody merely cast him a look that seemed to say "Finally," before putting him under the spell again.

But Harry wasn't discouraged. After a few successful attempts, he began to feel like a pro. Though he couldn't quite explain what had changed during the holidays, something within him must have shifted, enabling him to ward off the curse with ease. By the end of his lesson, he had performed so well that Moody concluded he no longer required extra classes. Harry tried to not look overjoyed with the sudden loss of extra lessons out of respect for the professor.

Finally, Harry's life started to brighten up. Or so he thought.

Fate once again proved he couldn't catch a break. The moment he got rid of one obstacle, another appeared.

Sleepwalking.

On Thursday morning, Harry awoke feeling tired and unusually breathless. He was far from well rested, but despite his longing to slip back into slumber, Ron's persistent nagging prevented him from doing so. With a frustrated huff, Harry forced himself to carry on with his day, going to bed early that night.

The next morning, Harry awoke perched on a staircase leading to the dormitories. His lower body felt frigid, his legs numb, his neck cramping, and his entire body ached even after a quick stretch. Groaning and disoriented, he trudged back to his dorm room, too sleepy for panic to set in.

The third time it happened, Harry awoke with his eyes wide open, his hand outstretched towards the Fat Lady. It was four in the morning, and he was about to leave the common room when his consciousness returned. He found himself barefoot, dressed in Dudley's oversized clothes that served as his pyjamas, shivering in the cold castle air. This time, Harry was alarmed. The last thing he needed was for someone to see him wandering the corridors of Hogwarts in that state.

He'd never had sleepwalking tendencies, not even as a child. He knew he mumbled sometimes in his sleep but that was about it. The sudden development of a new habit freaked Harry out. It was akin to the Imperius curse, but this time, he was battling against his own body. It proved to be more challenging than resisting an Unforgivable curse.

Finally, on a Saturday evening, Harry summoned the courage to confide in Ron about his distressing new problem. Reaction of his friend was rather underwhelming.

"It's not a big deal," Ron shrugged lazily, dismissing his concerns. "George used to sleepwalk all the time as a child. Mum had to chase him around the garden, and even when we locked all the exits, he somehow found a way out. Dad reckoned it was accidental magic."

Harry frowned, feeling no less reassured by Ron's explanation. A fleeting thought about having no one who would chase him around when he sleepwalked crossed his mind, but he quickly banished it.

"Okay, then," Harry nodded, attempting a smile.

At least, Ron didn't blow it out of proportion. If he brought up Voldemort as the cause of Harry's night adventures, Harry's eyes would've been stuck to the back of his skull by now.

That night, Harry fell asleep while trying to convince himself that it was just some bizarre form of accidental magic, no matter how improbable the explanation seemed.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Harry heard footsteps approaching him from the darkness, but he couldn't discern their source. His surrounding s were just too dim for him to see anything.

For a moment, he feared it might be Uncle Vernon, but the brisk pace ruled him out. Aunt Petunia's heels sounded different, and the ground shook notably more when Dudley stomped through. Relief flooded Harry as he realized he wasn't in the Dursleys' company. That brought up another question though: where was he?

Before Harry could puzzle it out, a blinding light pierced through the darkness, and his heart leapt in terror. He instinctively covered his eyes, vaguely registering the absence of his glasses.

"Potter!!"

Instantly, Harry woke up from his daze. Adrenaline surged through his veins as he tried to piece together what was happening.

What? What? Where am I? What's going on? Where...?

Harry's mind was an incoherent scrambled mess. His head whipped left and right, trying to recognize his surroundings. Without glasses, it was inexplicably more challenging. Squinting his eyelids helped only a little.

"Playing deaf? Or were you just having fun chasing me around?!" The fuming voice directed his attention at the caster of Lumos – Snape. His face was a blurred mess, but Harry could still imagine the man's frowning expression. At least he lowered his wand and stopped frying Harry's eyeballs.

"You have exactly two seconds to explain why you're outside your bed after curfew, and don't even think about spouting some made-up excuse or the consequences will be unimaginable," seethed the Potions Master, but Harry had more pressing matters to focus on than his anger, like getting away from the man.

He would have also appreciated it if Snape specified "where" exactly they were, but taking a quick guess based on the lack of proper lighting in the corridor and Snape's presence, he assumed they were in the dungeons.

Have I sleepwalked again? Why here of all places? And WHY Snape?

Harry regretted not discussing the issue with Hermione. Ron assured him it was nothing, but Harry didn't see any other students sleepwalking in the hallway with him. He should not have taken the issue so lightly. Now he was bearing the result of his carelessness – an encounter with an angry Snape in the middle of the night.

"I don't know," Harry admitted simply, his voice hoarse. Snape would not believe the truth about sleepwalking anyway.

"It was a simple question, Potter, and I said no lies," Snape didn't like Harry's answer at all, as expected. "Or are you implying that your knowledge is so limited you don't even know your own intentions?"

That's exactly what I'm implying, professor. Ten points to Slytherin for actually assuming something about me correctly, for once.

Harry was glad he couldn't see the man properly as the look he felt prickling his skin was already burning enough, not to mention Snape's icy tone.

Not knowing what else he could say to appease the professor without lying, he kept quiet, averting his blurred vision at nothing particular. Moments passed. Harry blinked slowly, awaiting more of Snape's wrath, but it never came. Something shifted in the air, and then the light from Snape's wand shone brighter.

"Where's the rest of your clothing?" Snape suddenly asked, his voice glazed with odd caution.

"Err..." Harry stuttered, taken aback by the strange question. Then, with utmost horror, he felt his arms and legs. He was in his pyjamas, fully clothed. Frowning, he looked up at Snape with a questioning glance. What's he playing at? Harry couldn't tell if this was one of Snape's weird tests or not.

"Your shoes, Potter! And glasses? Surely you would have taken them on your little venture, or is this your attempt to end up in the hospital wing again?" The man sounded audibly annoyed for having to explain everything.

"Why would I- ah." Harry's remark about the hospital wing died in his throat with a little gasp as he understood what Snape meant. Now that it was pointed out, Harry noticed the lack of warmth within his body. The last sparks of adrenaline dissipated, making him aware of the seeping cold licking his bones and the lack of feeling in his legs. Although Harry couldn't really see his feet, he was convinced they were frozen solid. He couldn't move his toes at all. Shivers completely dominated his body, and Harry had to shut his mouth to prevent his teeth from chattering.

"I should go," he managed to say through his shakiness, hazily wondering if running would warm him up.

However, Snape wasn't going to let him go anywhere.

"Not so fast, Potter. We're going to see the Headmaster," he declared.

"Now? Why...?" Harry couldn't decide if he wanted to panic or be angry at the man for inflating the incident to this extent. When he imagined the number of uncomfortable questions Dumbledore would ask, panic won.

"Sir, please. Assign me detention or take points if you must, but there's no need to wake the Headmaster for this," Harry offered weakly, making sure he added "sir" to his speech. He was drowning in three days' worth of tiredness, shaking like a dead leaf in a strong wind, and the only thing he wanted was to lie down and sleep.

Snape, however, was unmoved. "You should have thought about the possible consequences before leaving your room," he said, his voice devoid of compassion.

Harry closed his eyes, willing himself not to sway on his numb legs. He had no energy to argue with the man, and all things considered, Dumbledore was preferable company over Snape. His office was bound to be warm, and he would be far more understanding than the Potions Master.

If only Harry didn't feel like he was letting Dumbledore down every time a visit to his office was necessary, it would have been much easier to comply with Snape's demands from the start.

"At least let me grab my shoes and glasses before we go," Harry gave it his last shot to salvage some of his dignity, not wanting to march to the Headmaster barefoot and dressed in Dudley's old rags. He hoped Snape would allow him the quick trip to Gryffindor Tower, but his wishes went unanswered.

"It might be in your interest to tour the whole castle with me, Potter, but know that the interest is not shared. Now, I'll take off ten points for every additional minute of my time you'll continue to waste, so I advise you to follow me," Snape threatened and spun around, heading towards what Harry assumed was Dumbledore's office.

Groaning internally, Harry willed his rigid body to move. His limbs weren't cooperating, and he was aware of how ridiculous his walking must have looked. He felt grateful that Snape's back was facing him.

Suddenly, a warm breeze embraced him, making the coldness vanish. Harry jerked up in surprise, confused. He stared at Snape's rapidly receding silhouette disappearing into the dark. He hadn't heard him cast any spells or make any moves, but it must have been him.

Not daring to question his luck, Harry kept his mouth shut and his pace quickened. He used the newly acquired control of his body to rush after the man, not wanting to become a target of Snape's condescending comments once more.

The journey to Dumbledore's office was a gruelling one. Harry's breaths came out in laboured pants as he climbed up the seemingly endless stairs of Hogwarts. Snape, walking at a killer's pace, didn't make it any easier. With each step, Harry felt his legs burn with exertion.

He couldn't help but resent the man's tireless energy as they finally reached the gargoyle. Harry was panting and sweating profusely while Snape seemed entirely unaffected by the climb. The only solace he found was in the warming charm that lingered on his clothes, shielding him from the cold night air.

Snape muttered the password under his breath, too low for Harry to hear, and the gargoyle statue jumped aside to let them pass. The door to Dumbledore's office was ajar, and Harry couldn't help but wonder if the Headmaster had been expecting them. The man seemed almost omniscient at times.

"Ah, Harry, so good to see you, my boy," Dumbledore greeted him warmly as he stepped into the room. The office was cosy and smelled of herb tea, and a familiar sense of calm washed over Harry.

"Good to see you too, Headmaster," Harry replied back politely, his words being far from the truth. He definitely didn't feel good meeting Dumbledore under given circumstances.

"I believe you'd see me even better with these," Dumbledore remarked lightly, and Harry noticed a small object levitating towards him. His glasses.

"Thank you," he breathed out in relief once his surroundings became sharp again.

"You have my gratitude for assisting me today, Severus. I won't take up any more of your night," Dumbledore addressed Snape, who stood impatiently on the doorstep. They exchanged meaningful looks and then, Snape was gone.

At least I won't be interrogated in Snape's presence.

Harry took a seat he had occupied many times before and watched as Dumbledore settled into his own chair. The atmosphere was serene and soothing, a welcoming contrast to the previous tumultuous event.

"Tea?" Dumbledore offered, and Harry found himself nodding. He watched as the man poured him a cup of tea, momentarily mesmerized by the steam rising from the cup in swirling tendrils. The drink was fragrant and warm, and Harry slowly relaxed as he sipped from the delicate teacup.

"So, Harry, what brings you here at this late hour?" Dumbledore inquired, his tone conversational and kind. Harry was struck by the casualness of the Headmaster's words, as if he was merely a guest dropping by for a friendly visit.

"Err... I told Professor Snape there was no need to bother you with this, but as you can imagine, he didn't listen," Harry started his speech with an apology, intending to delay the inevitable talk about his sleepwalking.

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Ah, Severus can be quite persistent when he wants to be." There was a glint of curiosity in his eyes when he continued, "And what is it that he felt the need to bring to my attention, Harry?"

Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat, feeling a blush creeping up his neck. His next words were carefully spoken.

"I was outside my dorm after curfew, sir."

The Headmaster nodded, appearing to be in thought.

"Curfew is in place for a reason, Harry," he said gently at last, but there was a hint of seriousness in his voice. "May I ask why you felt the need to leave your dormitory at such a late hour?"

Harry bit his tongue, contemplating feverishly what to answer. Dumbledore must have noticed his hesitancy because, after a prolonged silence, he spoke again.

"Severus informed me, sounding quite distressed might I add, about you wandering the dungeon corridors aimlessly. Apparently, he called you multiple times but got no response."

Harry suppressed a groan. How could Dumbledore already know everything? Snape hadn't talked to him at all! And what did Dumbledore mean by Snape "sounding distressed"? Harry could only imagine the man sounding tremendously annoyed.

"I just didn't hear him," Harry shrugged dismissively, trying to sound casual.

Lie after lie escaped his mouth and despite the growing feeling of guilt which squeezed his chest uncomfortably, he couldn't bring himself to say the whole truth.

"Not even the threat losing points?" Dumbledore pointed out, and Harry foolishly took the bait.

"What? He took more points?!" he jumped in his seat, heat rising to his cheeks. Hermione will be beside herself, she still hasn't forgiven me those fifty points from before.

Dumbledore chuckled softly, his eyes twinkling softening. "I believe Professor Snape may have a tendency to use point deductions as a disciplinary measure, but that is not the issue at hand." He leaned forward slightly, his expression serious once more. Harry swallowed thickly.

"I know that the events of the past few months have been difficult for you. The Triwizard Tournament, and the ever-luring presence of dangers you have yet to face..." Harry tensed up, but Dumbledore continued without pause. "I realize I haven't done much for you as I'm not allowed to interfere with the tournament, but I want you to know that if anything is bothering you, anything at all, my door is always open. You can come to me anytime, day or night."

Harry looked at the Headmaster, his green eyes meeting Dumbledore's gentle gaze. A sudden urge to confide in the man washed over him and Harry almost yielded. Almost. The Headmaster's kind words had stirred something in him, a desperate longing to open up about everything that had been weighing him down. But at the same time, Harry was filled with fear and uncertainty. He didn't want to disappoint Dumbledore, to let him see how much he was struggling to keep it together.

For Harry, Dumbledore had always been a symbol of hope and guidance, someone he looked up to and respected immensely. To admit that he was struggling would be to shatter the impression of capable Boy Who Lived Dumbledore had about him, revealing that he was just as lost and confused as everyone else. Harry couldn't bear the thought of letting the older man down in any way.

So instead, Harry forced a smile and tried to brush off Dumbledore's concern. He told himself that he was fine, that he didn't need anyone's help. The weight of his worries continued to press down on him, but he pushed them aside, determined to keep up the facade of strength and control.

"I appreciate that, sir," Harry said, his voice low and controlled. "But I'm fine, really. It's just... I couldn't get much sleep lately."

Dumbledore regarded him with concern. "Sleep is important, Harry. Is there anything in particular that's been troubling you? I could talk to Professor Snape or Madame Pomfrey to administer Dreamless Sleep if you'd like."

Harry considered it for a moment and then shook his head. "No, I think I've just been stressed with the new term and the approaching second task... "

Another lie, Harry's guts clenched, but there was no backing down now. He was in too deep.

Dumbledore looked at Harry with a knowing expression. "I understand that the tournament is occupying heavily on your mind, but you must remember that you have friends who are here to support you. You don't have to face everything alone."

Harry nodded, knowing the 'you have friends' talks a tad too well. But sometimes, the thought of burdening his close ones with his problems was almost as daunting as confessing to Dumbledore.

"Thank you, sir," Harry said, rising from his seat. Now that he'd escaped talking about the sleepwalking, it was time to leave quickly. "I'll keep that in mind."

Dumbledore stood up as well, a small smile on his face.

"Good. I suppose it's time for you to return to your dormitory. You don't want to risk any more point deductions from Professor Snape, do you?"

A/N: Long time no see. I rewrote this chapter at least 20 times and I am still not happy with it so have mercy on me with your critique. I know it's deteriorating from canon a bit but I'm laying the foundations for further plot so bear with me.