May 3rd, 1998

Waking up to the piercing sounds of screaming was unfortunately not uncommon for Ronald Weasley. As it was, his best friend of seven years was one of the most traumatised and scarred men he had ever met, who regularly broke the silence of night with his hoarse voice, tearing through any semblance of sleep his roommates were getting. This being the night after the Battle of Hogwarts seemed to make no difference. Surprisingly though, this time was different, though Ron didn't know why just yet.

Ron woke to Harry's frantic yelling, noticing that Neville had come up to the room at some point the night previous as well. Besides the three of them, they were alone. That's not what Harry's dream was telling him though. With careful but quick movements, Ron wiped the sleep from his eyes and moved to stand at the side of his friend's bed.

Harry's face was twisted in pain, a sheen of sweat covered his skin and the faint moonlight reflected the pallid colour underneath. He seemed to be battling the sheets that twisted around his body, further imprisoning him in an embrace of linen. In his hand he gripped the Elder Wand so tightly it looked close to bending.

Ron felt a tingle at the back of his neck that often happened when powerful magic was at work, but he dismissed it, focusing on his friend. Leaning forward, he reached his hand out to Harry's shoulder, intent on shaking him awake to pull him back to reality.

"NOOOO!" Harry screamed out, a pulse of magic sending Ron stumbling back.

Before Ron could react, the drapes covering the closest window flew towards him and wrapped around his limbs, pinning him to the wall he was backed against. "Harry?! What the hell?!" A first for Ron, Harry's magic had never played a factor in the almost nightly horrors he endured while sleeping.

The sound of Harry's yell must have finally been enough to wake Neville because he scrambled out of his bed, eyes bleary, and rushed over to Ron to try and pull the fabric away from Ron's neck where it was trying its best to strangle him. "Neville– your wand!" Ron managed to choke out before the window drapes coiled around his throat.

"Shit," Neville said under his breath, dashing to his bedside table to grab his wand. A sheet from his own bed tangled around his ankle and tried to pull him off balance. Finally, his hand closed around the wood and he spun, his mouth open and Finite on his lips.

"Harry!" Hermione's clear voice cried from the door to the room. A coat hanging by the door had bound her wrists and twisted to make her drop her wand.

Immediately Harry sat bolt upright in his bed, his magic ceasing, causing the animated cloth to drop its assault on his friends. Chest heaving and eyes darting, he took in the state of the room. His eyes found Hermione's, and before they turned worried and caring, he glimpsed hurt and fear looking back at him. His eyes widened further as he focused on Neville's wand still pointed at him and Ron's soft coughing as he rubbed at his neck.

Not a single sound was uttered for that brief moment, all eyes on Harry, the three of them hesitating for just long enough.

Then Harry was gone.

The air around his body warped and shifted and returned to normal so quickly and without a sound that another beat of silence and stillness rang out among the three left in the room.

Hermione was the first to move, getting to Harry's bed so quickly she seemed to have teleported herself. Her hands gripped the sheets of his bed and let out a strangled cry. Her shoulders shook with adrenaline and heart-wrenching sobs. Ron stood quietly on the other side of the bed, eyes dark and his face a mixture of hurt and confusion. Neville, his face in his hands, sat down heavily on the chest at the foot of his bed.

The image of Harry's face, sweat dripping from his brows and his eyes wide with fear as they bore into her own wide eyes, burned in Hermione's mind. That was the last thing she saw of him before Harry Potter disappeared from her life for over two years.