"Harry, what is it?"

Demelza and Ginny both had stopped walking the moment he had. The whole team was still watching him like a hawk, even after he'd assured them everything was basically fine now.

He felt as if he was surrounded by suspicious bodyguards on their way back to the Common Room.

Even Ron had been caught up in the group's protective energy and occasionally threw withering glares at the corridors behind them, even though there was nobody around but them this close to the curfew.

But at this very moment, Harry knew that things were definitely not fine — something bad was happening. It wasn't that the bloody Charm had failed, but out of the blue a bone-aching pull was now tearing at his very core, and it hurt, it hurt like nothing else.

Not physically, but mentally and emotionally. As if a part of him had been ripped out.

No, someone, Harry corrected himself as the dawning horror of realization crept up his spine.

He knew the feeling of loss in virtually all its incarnations.

Hermione.

Something had happened to Hermione.

"I… I need to go!" he said. "I… no, please." He started running, leaving his slightly confused teammates behind, as full-blown panic fueled his still-tired muscles and made him race with reckless abandon, trying to outpace whatever terror it was that had gripped him.

He had no idea where he was running to, but Harry didn't want to think about that.

Whatever it was that had happened to Hermione, or was still happening to her, he would be too late to stop it — also something he tried to shove out of his mind.

There was only a desperate race toward her, wherever she was, and that indescribable feeling of loss that made him want to crawl into a dark hole to lie down and let it all be over with.

He would give anything to trade this ache with the eye-watering migraines from before. Better to faint under the avalanche of his own sensory impressions than to experience… this. Harry noted that there was a metallic taste in his mouth as he rounded corners and jumped over balconies, and that his ears were buzzing.

His feet carried him up through the castle, and so he followed, not questioning his body's decisions.

There were a few students that he dodged during this mad race, but they were nothing but potential hindrances, and he ignored their outcries as he left them behind.

Hermione.

She was all that mattered, now and…

He stopped as he reached the seventh floor and saw a group of Gryffindors that was about to enter the Common Room. His senses were all over the place and felt so muffled, as if someone had doubled the Charm's effects on him. At the same time, Harry knew she wasn't here. He knew it with such conviction that he didn't even question the thought as it manifested itself.

There was no way he'd be able to find her unless he'd literally run into her.

This was no good, and if he wanted to stop whatever it was that happening, he needed to find her now, not in three hours.

Trying to catch his breath, Harry stared at his hands and his palm lines.

Of course.

The Marauder's Map.

He was such a blithering idiot.

He raced after the other students and caught the door just in time before it closed, ignoring both the Fat Lady and his housemates as he slipped inside and raced up the stairs as if Voldemort himself was after him.

As he entered his dorm, Harry aimed his wand at his chest. "Alohomora!"

It flew open violently and spewed clothes and books on the floor, but he didn't care. With a swift motion, he grabbed the map, and his cloak that he'd left here again for some unfathomable reason, and hurried toward the stairs.

The others had caught up with him.

"Harry, what in Merlin's name is going on?" Ron stood on the stairs, panting and holding himself on the railing. "Is there another attack?"

"Hermione," he said. "Something happened."

"What? Is she hurt?" Ginny stepped up to her brother, her face covered in fresh sweat from the running.

"I don't know, but I need to find her. Please, let me through." He didn't wait for an answer but slipped between the redheads.

"Wait, we can help you!"

"Harry, stop!"

"What's going on?"

"Hermione's in danger, or something!"

"Where's he running to?"

"No idea."

Harry ignored them all, even though they wanted to help, and he felt even worse for it. But the aching loss he felt was also a pull, and he couldn't stop. If he were to meet a professor, or a patrolling prefect… well, he'd cross that bridge when he got there.

He banged the Common Room door open, causing the Fat Lady to shriek, and continued his race. He needed a quiet corner to read the map, away from all the voices and distractions. The others would probably try and follow him again, or organize their own search for Hermione.

But he couldn't be part of that. It would take too long, he wouldn't be able to bear it.

Harry raced down the Grand Staircase again and, noting the absence of any smells or sounds that indicated human presence, slipped into a corridor on the sixth floor and opened the first broom closet he saw. Even though his senses felt muffled, he smelled dust and old rags and also sweat and something sweet… old perfume.

It seemed this closet had been put to good use over the years.

In the darkness of the closet, he hastily pulled his map from a pocket and unfolded it. There was no need for light, as his eyes were more than capable of making sense of the lines and names on the parchment in here. Sadly, his condition hadn't also improved his reading speed, and Harry desperately tried to remain calm as he frantically searched for Hermione's name.

Outside, he heard the voices of Ron and Demelza and others going down the stairs. They weren't yelling, not this close to the curfew, but it seemed that they had indeed joined the search.

He still thought that he didn't really deserve friends like that. They were risking detention and worse just on his word, when he was acting like a lunatic. Again.

As he followed the dots of the Gryffindors on the map, Harry noticed movement on the other side of Hogwarts' floor plan, on the grounds outside.

Hermione.

She must've stood still because something had been there the whole time, he'd seen it from the corner of his eyes.

He watched her dot move slowly and erratically in a northern direction, away from the castle.

Was she injured? And why was she even outside? His mind only came up with increasingly frightening answers, and Harry swallowed bile as he put the map away with shaking hands.

He stepped out of the broom closet and put on his cloak, then he ran down the stairs once more.

The unbearable feeling of doom and loss intensified with each step, and Harry fought actual tears as he neared the Entrance Hall. What was happening? Hermione was still alive, and yet in his entire being, it felt as if he'd witnessed her death.

Suddenly, he smelled a mix of potion fumes and old clothes and saw Snape coming up the stairs, his face ashen and his nose bleeding. The greasy git seemed to have lost a fight or something, and normally, Harry would've been all over that.

But as much as he appreciated seeing his hated teacher suffering, he couldn't stop now.

Hermione needed him, and he needed her.

Curously looking at Snape one last time as the man passed him by without noticing anything, he continued his race toward Hermione.

As he stepped off the Grand Staircase, he saw Ron and Jimmy. Both had their wands drawn and were approaching the Great Hall. He knew Hermione wasn't there, but seeing them taking this all very seriously made his heart ache.

But there simply was no time.

Leaving them behind and hoping they wouldn't run into a Snape or another professor, Harry hastily opened Hogwart's tall doors and slipped outside.

It was already dark, and there were just a handful of stars visible through the thick clouds. He shivered as the cool air sapped his warmth, but it wasn't an unwelcome sensation. Despite the hurt he felt so keenly, Harry felt as if he'd left a stuffy room and could finally breathe freely.

He pulled back the cloak's hood.

There was no way someone would see him out here without him noticing them first, and he needed didn't need another barrier between his senses and the world.

He also removed his glasses, knowing he had no need for them right now.

Looking in the direction where he'd last seen Hermione's dot on the map, Harry continued running. Even though the wind made enough noise as it rustled between the towers and nearby trees, he tried to be quiet — it was pure instinct at this point.

Following one of the paths that led to the Owlery, he hurried through the darkness.

As much as he tried, though, Harry didn't pick up anything.

No scent, no sounds, no sight of her. It was agony to know he was so close and yet not being able to feel her, to know with absolute certainty that she was there.

He noticed that his breathing grew more rapid, and it had nothing to do with physical exhaustion. The taste of blood in his mouth increased, as did the prickling sensation on his skin. Harry felt as if the Charm was beginning to suffocate him, suffocate his senses.

The need to feel, to feel her and find her, became overwhelming.

Try as he might, he wasn't capable of running like this anymore.

Harry faltered and fell to his knees.

The pain he felt in his legs was almost exquisite in its sharpness, and he desperately tried to anchor himself in the sensation. He didn't know when he'd drawn his wand, but he was already holding it.

He needed to be free.

"Finite Incantatem," Harry whispered as he aimed at his own chest.

Gasping for air, he felt the uncomfortable barrier dissolve, his mind being flooded with millions of sensations. But unlike before, in the castle, his head didn't explode in white pain — it was still overwhelming, but like a conduit, he just channeled all these intense impressions, somewhere deep inside him.

He was the eye of the storm, and there was no holding it back.

His ears picked up a pair of centaurs, miles away in the Forbidden Forest.

The wind brought the scent of a scarf someone had forgotten in one of the stands at the Quidditch pitch, and he knew that it belonged to Emily Saunders-Cooke from fourth year.

He saw a huge airplane through a break in the clouds, miles high in the night sky, and noticed the myriad of scratches on its underside.

And he felt Hogwarts behind him and all around, felt it pulsing like a living organism. Magic, so tangible he could almost taste it.

It was like nothing Harry had ever experienced, and he cried and laughed and gasped all at the same time as he opened himself up to what was inside him. He didn't know why he wasn't writing on the floor in excruciating pain, he just reveled in the sensation of being on the cusp of understanding.

Everything was about finally making sense…

… Hermione.

The raging storm of emotions and sensations stopped so abruptly that he almost fell over.

He heard her heartbeat, that soothing beat he'd recognize everywhere, and smelled her caramel scent. She was somewhere in his vicinity, at least what counted as that with his sharpened senses, and he needed to get to her.

Now.

He'd already wasted enough time.

Harry jumped to his feet and stumbled in the general direction of Hagrid's hut, following Hermione's scent.

Behind him, Hogwart's doors were opened and people stepped outside. He heard Professor McGonagall and a few others. There would be hell to pay once this was over, but he didn't care, for as long as he found her, everything would be okay.

He continued running, as fast as his legs would allow him.

The ache within him was still there, but it was fading, and Harry didn't know if he should welcome it or worry even more. He knew he was closing in on Hermione, and not knowing what the hell had happened made it even more unbearable. Why was she out here, wandering off into the Forbidden Forest, all alone?

It made no sense unless she was experiencing something similar to whatever that near-religious episode of his had been.

Was that why he was so drawn to her?

Or why she didn't pull away from him? Every waking moment brought more questions, yet there were no answers, only more confusion.

Harry heard Hagrid's deep voice as he passed the hut. It seemed his friend was singing to himself as he cooked a stew that smelled a bit too spicy for Harry's hypersensitive nose. Fang was snoring, probably lying somewhere by the fireplace inside.

He left the impressions of Hagrid's domestic bliss behind and focused on the Forbidden Forest in front of him. There was even less light between the tall trees, but his eyes had no problem piercing the shadows.

Taking a deep breath of cold air, Harry almost felt… as if he was home. At least as much as he was in the Boy's Dormitory back in the castle.

Somehow, he felt more at ease here.

The forest was calling to him.

But he needed to find her first, there was no way he'd indulge himself right now, no matter how much of a rush he felt underneath his skin to just experience everything around him completely unfiltered — and without headaches.

Harry was aware of so many things around him right now, but trying to order them and put them into conscious thought was an effort in futility. He knew that, behind him, McGonagall was accompanied by Professor Sprout and that Ron, Ritchie, Hannah, and Luna were with them, however, they had managed to convince the professors to participate in the search.

He knew that the Headmaster was in his office, a series of protective charms didn't allow him to sense what was going on inside, though, no matter how hard he focused.

Way ahead of him and Hermione, he heard the mumbling of a small stream, and how it poured in a large pond. Something… no someone was splashing around inside the water, and he felt it was a humanoid being, but not a wizard.

Then, his nose picked up Hermione's scent again, and he focused on it entirely as he raced through the dark forest, dodging thorny bushes and stepping over gnarly roots.

He knew she was afraid, there was a sour note in the air and a smell of sweat. She'd touched tree trunks and young spring leaves on her way through the forest, and the points of contact he sensed, so clearly they might've been painted in glowing colors, were too numerous to be accidental contact.

She touched almost everything in reach.

Why?

Not waiting to find an answer on his own, he continued running.

There was her heartbeat again, and he heard her steps on the soft ground — she was barefoot? Why the hell was she barefoot, when it was this cold outside? Knowing Hermione low tolerance for cool temperatures, he was sure she was almost freezing to death right now.

The thought that someone might've done something to her infuriated Harry like nothing else.

There would be hell to pay indeed should he find that she'd been harmed, but not by him.

As he rounded a tall oak tree, he finally saw her.

She seemed to be in a dreamlike state, walking through the forest like she was taking a stroll. Her hands were outstretched and brushed over twigs and leaves in her path.

"Hermione!" His hoarse voice sounded terrible to his own ears.

She stopped and turned around.

His heart skipped a beat as he took in her pale skin and the wide eyes that stared at him as if she was blind, not seeing him by trying to focus on him. She was shivering in the night, her feet indeed bare. She didn't wear any thick clothes, either.

"Hermione?" He hurried toward her.

"Harry…" she mumbled, her eyes still staring through him into the darkness. "Why… "

"What happened to you? Why are you here?" He stepped up to her. "Hermione? Talk to me."

"I don't… why is everything so far away… Harry?" She held out a hand to him like a blind woman, as if she wanted to touch him and reassure herself she wasn't alone.

Harry swallowed hard. "You're safe now, I've got you." Then he closed the distance and softly embraced her. "I've got you."

It was like coming home, and with a shuddering breath, he was finally able to release the terrible feeling of loss that had been gripping his heart. His anxiety faded away, and he filled the void left in its wake with the sensation that Hermione was alive and… here, right with him.

Hermione, for her part, hadn't reacted to his embrace at first.

But before Harry could muster any thoughts about having overstepped boundaries or being inappropriate, her arms suddenly held onto him as if he were a lifeline. She hugged him for all he was worth, and he felt her sobbing into him.

"Harry… what happened?" she cried. "Why am I here? Where were you?"

"I don't know." He teared up again as he sensed her desperation.

None of them let go of each other as their heartbeats slowly fell in sync. He could actually smell her relief, how the adrenaline inside her subsided. Her fingers were feeling his shoulder blades and muscles underneath the cloak as she ran her hands up and down his back.

She was breathing him in as much as he was doing it with her.

Harry felt his all-encompassing senses being pulled together, focused not on the Forbidden Forest around them, but on his best friend in his arms.

He knew that somehow it was all her, she was his anchor.

Slowly, he released her from his embrace. She still held on to him, and he carefully put a hand on her shoulder to push her a tiny bit. "Hermione."

She let go just enough to raise her head and stare into his eyes. Their faces were incredibly close to each other, and he felt her so intimately and intensely that his mind was spinning. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he also wanted to kiss her.

Her eyes were full of worry and affection. "Yes?"

"What do you remember? How did you end up here?"

She took a breath. "I… was in the Common Room, waiting… for you, I think?"

He frowned. "So how is it you're in the Forbidden Forest, all alone and without proper clothes, or shoes, I might add?"

Hermione looked down and blushed, as she involuntarily shivered. "I don't know."

Reluctantly, Harry let go of her. "You're freezing. Let me help you, please."

She nodded. Then, she padded herself. "Where's my wand?"

They stared at each other. "Accio Hermione's wand!" Harry said, looking back to where they'd come from. As expected, nothing happened. "Damn."

She didn't say anything.

He turned to her. "I'll continue doing that on our way back." He raised his wand. "Fervens Aeris."

Since he didn't want to blast her with a gust of hot wind, Harry felt into the magic as it built inside his wand, and kept tight control on its way through the wand's core. It was completely natural for him to do so, even though he had no idea how to describe it.

Hermione gasped as she was enveloped by the warm air and almost immediately stopped trembling. "How… did you do that, Harry? That's not how the spell normally works."

"I didn't want to blast you, so… so I didn't." He shrugged. "It's a bit hard to explain right now."

They exchanged another look, and he wondered how well she could actually see him right now. It was so dark that he wouldn't be able to see his own feet without enhanced eyesight.

"Where are your glasses, Harry?" It was as if she'd heard his thoughts.

"In my pocket. I… don't need them anymore."

"Why?"

He felt himself frown. "What do you mean? My eyes are as hypersensitive as any other senses, and somehow I can perfectly see when I'm… like this." He sighed. "One of the few things about this whole Sentinel business I'm actually looking forward to."

He heard her heartbeat and breathing speed up. "What Sentinel business? What are you talking about?"

Harry felt cold dread spike in his chest. "Oh no…"

"What, Harry?"

"I think you've been obliviated, Hermione." Her eyes grew large, and she took a step toward him, to reach out and reassure herself. He grabbed her hand.

"Are you sure about that?"

"You were the one to tell me about Sentinels since you were the one who got that book from Slughorn. And you don't seem to know why you're here." He grimaced as the implications hit him. "Did someone tell you to come here, Hermione?"

"I… I don't remember… but I don't think so?" She stared off into the darkness. He could see goosebumps on her neck despite the Hot Air Charm still protecting her. "It's all so… muddy… I can't remember anything clearly. Oh no, I think you're right."

"We'll find out, I promise you that." He pulled her closer and embraced her again. "Whoever it was, they'll be sorry. That was the second time someone attacked us, and I'm not going to stand by and let them get away with it."

"I have so many questions right now," she mumbled against him. "Who would do this?"

Harry hmm'ed. "That's a long list at this point."

"I... hate not remembering."

He nodded absently as he smelled her hair and felt her strange powers help him focus like nothing else. If he hadn't known better, he would've bet that right now he was still covered by the Quietus Animus Charm. This level of self-control was amazing, and he wanted to hold on to it forever. Or her.

"I'll tell you everything I know. We'll get through this. But we need to go back, people are already searching for you. Both of us by now, probably."

"Oh." She stepped back but continued to hold his hand. "We're probably getting a lot of detention for this then."

"Not when you've been obliviated, Hermione. That's an attack on you as far as I'm concerned." He removed his cloak with his left hand and held it out to her. "Here, put this on."

"I'm not cold anymore, Harry."

"I know, but I still feel terrible about you being barefoot. The cloak won't help with that, but just in case someone is going to try and attack us again, this will give you an edge. Please?"

Reluctantly, she accepted his gift and covered herself with the ancient heirloom.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. Always."

They locked hands again as they walked back to Hogwarts.

~.~.~.o.~.~.~

Albus sat in his armchair and worried.

His attempts at leaving a trail of bits and hints across time and space that would lead to Tom's eventual downfall had been interrupted by recent events, and he didn't know if his intended successors would be able to pick up the trail again. Harry being, at least potentially, a Sentinel… that was the worst news he'd received since he'd seen the boy return after the Triwizard Tournament, tortured and bleeding.

With the prophecy in play, it was simply inconceivable what this empowerment of Harry would do to Tom. If there was even a chance that, somehow, the metaphysical forces being at work between Harry and his fated enemy would level the playing field… Albus wasn't sure the world could survive a Dark Lord that had that kind of power.

Because his former student would surely find a way to grasp it and corrupt it for his own twisted purposes. If there was one thing he could be sure about, it was that.

His heart ached, though, at the additional burden he would have to put on Harry's shoulders.

Such a gift that was slumbering within the young man, and he was forced to squash it for everyone's sake. It was unforgivable, maybe even inconceivable, but the alternative was just too dangerous to even entertain the thought.

And now Harry was missing, looking for Miss Granger no doubt.

There was a strange dynamic at play between the two students that Albus didn't quite understand. They cared about each other a lot, that was obvious, and he knew that Minerva had put a decent amount of Galleons on them falling for each other eventually — Fred's and George's bet was still ongoing at this point.

But there was a draw the young woman had on Harry that ascended mere pubertal attraction. Both Minerva and Poppy had told him about the magical touch that had calmed Harry's overloading nervous system down.

That was not something to be dismissed out of hand.

Sadly, he didn't know much about Sentinel lore and was forced to fill in large blanks with guesswork. The Hogwarts Library had been cleansed of books about this topic a long time ago, and he'd never found the time to indulge his idle curiosity and find other literary sources, his hands always being full of wars and Dark Lords.

It seemed that decisions had come to bite him in the butt since Horace of all people had shared more knowledge with Miss Granger than he'd thought possible, likely rendering Harry's attempts at retrieving that vexing memory void.

Yet another problem to deal with in the limited timeframe he had to operate within.

Also, where was Severus?

The absence of his spy was almost as much cause for discomfort as Harry's, Albus admitted to himself. He wondered what measures the man had taken in dealing with the Sentinel problem. He trusted that Severus knew the stakes and wouldn't do something too harmful, but in the back of his mind, Albus also knew that there was something twisted about the way the Slytherin perceived the world. Especially concerning Harry.

The Headmaster's thoughts were interrupted when one of his devices suddenly stopped making noise.

He leaned over his desk and watched as the newest addition to his collection of unfathomable knick-knacks stopped whirring and began to emit a low light instead. Its color was a bloody red, and it pulsed slightly, like a heartbeat.

"Oh no…" Albus mumbled.

"That bad, isn't it? I think that's bad." Phineas Black sighed from his portrait. "What's going on?"

But Albus waved him off, absentmindedly. "Not now, Phineas…"

He ignored the chatter of the portraits behind him as they started joining the conversation and took hold of his little spying device. Whatever hopes he'd harbored of containing this new Sentinel situation, it seemed they'd been squashed. That pulsing light… Harry had awoken.

Deciding that he needed answers and that he needed them now, Albus stood up. It was time to leave his office, no matter how weak he was at the moment. His withered hand wasn't important — but Harry was.

He left without looking back and hurried down the stairs. Nodding to students as he passed them by, he ventured down the Grand Staircase, and into the dungeons.

When he knocked at Severus' office, he didn't expect him to be there.

"Yes?" the muffled sound of the Defense Professor came through the door.

"Severus? It's me. What happened? Where have you been?"

The man opened after a few seconds, and Albus saw that the Defense Professor looked as if he'd been trampled by an angry hippogriff. He was also very angry and didn't try to conceal it. "What mess have you dragged me in this time?" he hissed by way of greeting. "Couldn't you have told me that Granger is a perfect Occlumens?"

Albus blinked. "Come again?"

"She threw me out of her mind so violently, I crashed into a bloody wall!" Severus left him at the door and returned to his desk, where two potions were brewing. "I fainted, Albus, right then and there. When I woke up, I had the worst headache of my life. Still have."

"I don't understand. What did you do?"

"Exactly what you asked for, trying to get rid of this Sentinel nonsense in Potter's mind," the Slytherin snapped. "Which means getting rid of Granger's ideas about it as well."

"Severus, I hope you didn't try to…"

"Of course, I obliviated her! Well, tried to. What else was I supposed to do, ask her to let it go?" Snape shook his head and immediately winced. "Your trust in people will kill us all eventually, old man."

Albus closed the door. "So you're telling me that the Obliviation failed?"

"Spectacularly so." The man took a deep breath as he stirred one of his potions with slightly shaking hands. "I've never encountered a mental shield like that before, not ever. It didn't even feel like a real Occlumens barrier, more like… "

"Like what? Please, tell me, Severus."

Snape grimaced. "It felt as if I was falling into a dark pool, drowning as it pulled me into its depths." He looked at Albus again, still angry. "There is no way that foolish girl is capable of doing that on her own, no way. So something else is going on. What is it?"

"I'm not sure… all I have are vague suspicions."

"Don't give me that speech, Albus! I need to know! She was gone when I came to, and I've no idea where she is. Or Potter, for that matter."

The Headmaster stared at Snape and wondered if all of this had been a huge mistake. It certainly felt like it. Should he be right… Merlin help them all. He removed his glasses and pinched his nose. "If I'm correct, and what you and Poppy described to me leads me to believe I might be… then Miss Granger might be a Guide."

Snape's pale face became white as a sheet. "You bloody fool," he whispered. "Do you have any idea what will happen if that's true?"

Albus didn't answer.

It wasn't necessary since, even with their limited knowledge, both of them knew that a failed attempt at Obliviation of a Guide could make a Sentinel… feral.

Completely unable to control, no matter his intentions.

And only the Founders knew what that meant in regard to Tom Riddle.

They needed to find Harry as soon as possible.

~.~.~.o.~.~.~

Hannah shook her friend as she tried to wake her up. "Susan! Susan! It's all a dream."

She watched the redhead slowly regain consciousness.

Her forehead was covered in sweat and her bed was a mess. Susan had been twisting and turning when Hannah had woken up from the noise.

She'd cast a Quietus Charm before the whole dorm would be awake. Hannah knew from experience how bad a nightmare could be, and how embarrassing when others noticed.

There was no need to expose Susan in any way.

"Hannah?" her friend mumbled. "What… oh."

"You had a nightmare," she said. "Are you okay?"

"I… I think so."

She held out a glass of water, and Susan took a few sips.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Susan shook her head. "I don't… I'm not sure. It's all so confusing."

They sat in silence for a moment.

"I think Harry and Hermione are in danger," the redhead eventually said. She looked at Hannah. "They were in my dreams, but it felt so real… so real."

"How so?"

Susan stared at her blankly. "They were in the Forbidden Forest, searching for something. Hermione was barefoot, and Harry… I don't know… he was a hunter or something. He felt dangerous, but not for Hermione." She looked at Hannah again. "Or us."

"You were there with them?"

"Not really, it was more like… as if I was a bird… and then there was this lake? No, smaller, maybe a pond. I think they were trying to get there. A hidden place."

"Susan, that sounds like a typical dream." She reached out and held her friend's hand. "It doesn't mean anything, it's just things that are on your mind."

"I know, but Hannah… I felt what they felt. Hermione was somehow lost, and Harry… he was so angry at someone… and I wanted to help them so badly." She shuddered. "And there was something behind them or someone. Danger, but it was vague."

"I'm sorry if I caused you to dream about this," Hannah whispered. "I know I've been obsessing over Harry a bit the past few days."

Susan shook her head. "I don't think it's you."

"Well, they're missing, that much is true, but it's not the first time Harry has gone somewhere after curfew, is it?" Hannah closed her eyes. "Wherever they are, they're probably fine, even with Harry's hypersensitivity or whatever it is that haunts him."

"I don't know what you mean by that, Hannah."

She shrugged. "I don't know, just… me talking about Harry all the time, now they're missing again, and the attack… have I pulled you into something like a hysteria?"

"Unlikely." Susan smiled tiredly. "Don't forget, I'm kind of used to your drama by now."

They held hands for a moment.

"Do you need… company?" Hannah asked.

Susan opened her mouth, then stopped and exhaled. "Maybe," she admitted.

"Scoot over then." Hannah slipped underneath her friend's blanket and snuggled up to her. Susan took her hand, turned around, and pulled her close.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"Don't mention it." She sighed. "Normally, I'm the emotional mess between the both of us. I've never seen you this… distraught, Susan."

"I know."

"Sleep well then."

They stopped talking.

Hannah reflected on how much calmer she was whenever Susan was close, and how much she needed her friend to keep her grounded. She couldn't remember ever seeing her suffer from a nightmare, or anxiety in general — the youngest Bones was made of sterner stuff than many other Hufflepuffs.

So what had caused this? And why was she having goosebumps listening to Susan's nightmare?

Hannah vowed to help Harry and Hermione in every way possible, no matter what. Maybe by doing so, she could also help her best friend.

Despite everything, she fell fast asleep.