Dreams (Or a Lack Thereof)
Harry Potter couldn’t sleep.
It wasn’t anything new, but he was painfully aware of it every time it happened.
The thing that was new, however, was how he found himself on the astronomy tower. He was no stranger to wandering the castle on his sleepless nights, but usually that involved simple corridor pacing and, more importantly, his invisibility cloak. Not to mention, it was quite cold out in the open air with his ratty sleep clothes his only protection against the brisk late September wind.
Harry was lucky if he got an hour of sleep each night at this point in the year. His increasing visions–or delusions if he really thought about it–involving Voldemort’s plan of rising to power certainly added to his distress. After the Quidditch World Cup, his visions had increased exponentially, and Dumbledore’s announcement of the Triwizard Tournament seemed to fuel his frenzy. Harry’s only reprieve was late at night when no one went looking for him.
Which brought him to the tower apparently. Harry braced his hands on the wall and looked up towards the stars. He had, surprisingly, quite enjoyed Astronomy class this year despite Ron’s constant groaning about the homework. He found it relaxing mapping the stars and their consistencies brought a certain comfort to Harry. His newfound interest was picked up on by Professor Sinistra, and Harry found he quite liked how she taught the subject.
Another change in his academics this year was his decision to drop Divination in place of Arithmancy. Hermione was delighted when Harry joined the class, and it grew even more when she noticed him taking it seriously and doing well as a result. In fact, the practical application of Arithmancy improved every aspect of Harry’s magic despite him being in the class for just one month. Both his and Hermione’s enthusiasm–rather subdued on Harry’s part, but there nonetheless–was only minorly dampened by Malfoy’s badgering during class.
And that brought Harry back to why he couldn’t fall asleep that particular night. Malfoy–infuriating Malfoy–and his stupid smirk. Earlier that day, Malfoy had caught him by surprise with a tripping jinx after Arithmancy. That wasn’t what was bothering him though–Malfoy did that all the time, he was used to it by now–it was how Professor Moody had turned him into a ferret for it. Granted, it was funny at the time, but it didn’t sit quite right with Harry after the fact. For all Moody knew, Harry could have jinxed Malfoy first, it wasn’t like Moody had seen before he showed up. Instead, he had jumped in to transfigure Malfoy and bounce him around before asking any questions.
He shuddered, and thought about being turned into an animal himself. One thing for sure, Mad-Eye Moody was definitely living up to his name. They still hadn’t yet had their first Defense Against the Dark Arts class, but Tuesday marked the beginning of an interesting day. Care of Magical Creatures also started on Tuesday, and Harry wondered what Hagrid had in store this year. He hoped for more Hippogriffs, flying Buckbeak had been almost as good as his broom. He still couldn’t believe that Quidditch was canceled for the year–he hadn’t forgotten his failure against Hufflepuff and Cedric–and Angelina was livid since she was lined up to be captain. Wood would have thrown a fit, had he known and still been at Hogwarts.
Harry blinked and found himself sitting on the edge of the tower. The stars were still consistent, and the moon caught his eye. It was much closer to a new moon than the full, but he found himself thinking of Professor Lupin and Sirius anyhow. He hoped Buckbeak was doing well with Sirius and that he was safe somewhere far from Scotland. And Lupin, Harry hoped he had found a job somewhere, maybe in the muggle world so he could keep getting his Wolfsbane potion every month.
His eyes wandered back to the night sky and he started mapping out the stars in his mind. The cloudless night allowed him to see his favorite constellation, Perseus, quite clearly. The quests of Perseus didn’t particularly interest Harry–besides the birth of Pegasus. But he was one of the only heroes of old that had a happy ending. Harry didn’t necessarily consider himself a hero, but that didn’t matter when everyone around you had decided that for him. Thus, he had no choice but to hope for an ending like Perseus’.
“Are you planning on finally ridding us of your presence Potter?” The sharp words cut through Harry’s thoughts faster than usual. He groaned to himself and caught a shock of bright blond hair from the corner of his eye.
“Oh sod off, Malfoy,” It didn’t have quite the same heat behind it as it normally did, but he thought it got his point across regardless. “You couldn’t let me have one moment of peace?”
Harry muttered this up into the sky, and Malfoy either didn’t hear or didn’t acknowledge it. Either way, Harry got off the edge and faced Malfoy. Without his minions–and muscle–Crabbe and Goyle, he didn’t seem all that threatening. Even so, Harry prepared for a fight, it remained to be seen whether it would be physical or verbal.
“I ought to report you for being out of bed and wandering about,” Malfoy had a smug look on his face, almost like he was bursting to say ‘My father will hear about this’. Harry laughed to himself at the thought and relaxed his wand grip. Verbal it was.
“Yes, well, in order to report me you’d have to admit to being out of bed yourself,” Honestly, Harry was relieved it wasn’t a duel type of night. He was much too tired to shield himself properly.
His tiredness must have shown, or at the very least bled into his voice, as Malfoy seemed taken aback from his lackluster response, without the usual biting remark. But he was tired of fighting for the sake of fighting. Especially when the stars looked so bright, and the night was still and quiet, and he could forget about the hand he was dealt.
“Potter…” Malfoy had a peculiar look on his face. Harry looked at him for a moment longer before it turned to an unmistakable look of disgust. “What in Merlin’s name are you wearing. Have you decided to become a house-elf?”
And that was Harry’s cue to go back to the dormitory. He didn’t bother responding and simply brushed past Malfoy and headed towards the stairs. Harry knew the Dursley’s ratty clothes weren’t the best, but he had been lucky so far that no one but his dormmates had seen him wearing them. It was bloody embarrassing for Malfoy to be the only other person to see him wear them, and he wasn’t likely to forget.
Luckily, by the time Harry got to Gryffindor House some of the shame had washed away. The Fat Lady was still awake and didn’t give him much of a hard time other than a skeptical once over.
“Password?”
“Scintillae,” Harry whispered the password even though the corridor was deserted. He simply didn’t want to break through the calm settled around him. The portrait opened, and he climbed through.
No one was in the common room to see him come back, and Harry found he was grateful for it. He went up to his dormitory and sat down on his four-poster bed. The only other sounds in the room were Ron’s snores. Harry closed the curtains, took off his glasses, and closed his eyes.
He was on his 300th sheep when he finally drifted off into a shallow slumber.