Chapter 2
The next morning the fog had not lifted and offered a pictorial image of Harry's mood.
He didn't wake up every night, but he could hardly find rest and that restlessness took its toll on him.
His news about Voldemort had the people divided since. Many did not want to believe him, while others felt uneasy about his presence in general.
Wistfully he thought of Cedric and the Triwizard Tournament and couldn't blame them. Maybe it was better if they stayed away from him so that no more people would end up in the crossfire.
Harry's scar hurt much more often than it used to, and he also noticed minor fluctuations from Voldemort's feelings and sometimes had problems telling them apart from his own.
There was Professor Umbridge, who had made it her business to make his life hell, and then Dumbledore, who was barely there for him, even though Harry felt he needed his guidance more than ever.
Life had become difficult and he was glad to have Hermione and Ron by his side.
Harry peeled himself out of bed and stretched sourly.
Some of his roommates glared at him as somberly as he felt and Harry looked just as disgruntled around the group. As he couldn't spot Ron among them Harry guessed he'd gone ahead.
Ron and Hermoine were waiting for him near the entrance at the Fat Lady's portrait, and Hermione had the same worrisome look as Ron had the night before.
♠
When Harry followed them through the corridors, neither of them spoke. Hermione didn't lead them to the great hall but purposefully towards an empty room at the end of the hallway.
"Muffliato" she put a spell on the closed door to keep prying ears out.
Ron sat at a nearby table to carefully study his fingernails and wisely decided to stayed out of the conversation.
"You should talk to Dumbledore." Hermione demanded outright and vigorously tossed her curly hair back.
Harry had known this was coming and glowered at Ron who twisted his mouth and shrugged to appease.
It wasn't the first time they'd advised him to speak to Dumbledore, but Harry had grown more and more stubborn.
"He has been busy lately, I don't think I should bother ..." Harry pushed around and raised his hands reassuringly.
"That was the fourth time in two weeks, and I didn't even count how often you had to drop out of class!" Hermione interrupted, putting more pressure on. "Dumbledore should know about this."
"He has already put Snape's Occlumency lessons on me." Harry protested, gritting his teeth. "That's his answer to everything, it's all we can do."
"You should tell him it's not going as well as he hoped!"
Harry's patience was running thin. "I have already done that!" he contradicted and waved his arms impatiently. "I told him it wouldn't work with Snape, but he disagrees and says he trusts Snape completely." he mimicked Dumbledore's words and grimaced.
Ron and Hermione looked at each other a little helpless.
"Maybe if he thinks it will eventually help you, maybe he has an idea of what you can do until then. Maybe we can help you." Hermione tried carefully.
"Harry." Ron interfered. "You sometimes talk in your sleep, you know. I ... I don't think it would do well if you suddenly started quoting You-Know-Who doing you-know-what ..."
Gradually Harry's resistance subsided as he realized the two would not let the subject rest.
"Alright, I'm going to see him later." he grumbled unnerved. "Satisfied?"
Their moods lightened. "Yes, very good." Hermione uttered a sigh of relief and happily clapped her hands once.
♠
Some days you would have rather stayed in bed, Harry thought to himself as they later entered the great hall.
An exuberant mood wafted from the Slytherin table where Pansy Parkinson announced Harry's arrival to laughing applause.
There was also a lot of activity at the Griffindor table and those present gave way in anticipation. Harry didn't have to search long for the cause of this general joy when a rolled-up copy of the Daily Prophet flew against the back of his head.
"The Hero's Downfall" the headline read.
It was an anonymous interview that analyzed his mental state and raised the question of whether he was going insane.
"Could it be the answer he needed to cope with Cedric Diggory's untimely death?" Blaise Zabini quoted directly and earned resounding laughter.
Harry didn't even bother to finish the article, he would surely hear the rest of it repeatedly throughout the day.
He let his gaze wander across the hall at the staff table. Dumbledore's seat was empty as usual, but Professor Umbridge pursed a swig from her teacup and read the Daily Prophet with relish.
Ron and Hermione scowled at nearby classmates to silence them and tried to snatch a few copies from their hands, but Harry had seen enough. He grabbed a sandwich from the breakfast table and told his friends that he would meet them later in class before leaving the great hall.
For a moment he even considered stopping by at Dumbledore's office, but then decided to go to the Owlery instead to have some peace and quiet.
♠
It was cold in the Owlery at this time of year. The windows were always open and Harry's breath was rendered opaque in the freezing air to mimic the lingering fog outside.
Hedwig was returned from her nightly hunt and slept soundly with her beak in her fluffed feathers.
For Harry it was a welcome and comforting sight. He would not have intended to wake her, but Hedwig must have sensed his presence and raised her head curiously. Smiling, Harry greeted the beautiful animal and gently began to stroke its snow-white plumage. Indulging in his caress, she put up her feathers and closed her eyes contentedly.
Harry looked fondly at his pet and watched his bony fingers moving across Nagini's scaly head.
Frightened he jumped backwards and bumped loudly into a cage behind him. The owl inside startled and screeched angrily the disturbance before deciding to find another place to sleep.
Intimidated and motionless, Harry stared at his hand which was no longer thin and pale. The snake was gone and Hedwig, who looked at him with faithful eyes, gave a dissatisfied shriek to get him to continue.
Confused, he closed his hand and opened it again, trying to calm his trembling breath. The memory was fleeting as a dream and just as difficult to hold on to. Could he have imagined it all?
He thought about his vision last night and Voldemort's message worried him. If Harry could see through his eyes, did that mean Voldemort could see what Harry was doing as well? Maybe at this very moment?
Harry frantically looked around the Owlery for any unusual sign, but then shook his head at his own idiocy.
He probably should start to take Occlumency more seriously, he admitted bitterly to himself.