It had been a typical lazy Quidditch-less Saturday. Because of the lack of reason to get up early, most students had opted to sleep in late, not getting up until almost lunch time. It was a Hogsmeade weekend, but for most of the Fifth Years, Hogsmeade was beginning to lose its novelty. And with the past week of intense lessons and heavy homework loads, the idea of sleeping in held much more appeal than the idea of hiking to the crowded village.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat ensconced together in a removed corner of the Gryffindor Commons Room. It was only moderately populated that afternoon - most of the aforementioned students either still lounging around in bed or bemoaning their workload in the library.

The three Gryffindors had been some of the ones that had found staying at Hogwarts more appealing than going to Hogsmeade, though for different reasons…

“Really, Ronald, sleeping in till past lunchtime is unacceptable! Think of how you could have used that time to study instead of laying around all day in bed not doing anything.”

“Oh, come off it, Hermione! I’ll have plenty of time tomorrow to get all my homework done. Plus, you’ll give me you’re notes to copy, so what‘s the big deal?”

Hermione’s lips pursed into a thin, white line. “You know, one of these days, Ron, I might decide not to lend you my notes. So maybe you should pay attention in class for once and start taking your own notes!”

Ron made a scoffing sound. “You wouldn’t do that to Harry and me. You like us too much. You’d never let us fail if you could help it.”

Hermione grit her teeth and muttered, “Well, I’m starting to give it thought... Maybe if you two failed a big test for once, you’d see how much you need to learn how to study and take notes for yourself without my help. Then maybe you‘d actually learn something for once.”

“That’s harsh, Hermione. But I still say you wouldn’t do it. The minute you saw Harry or me struggling, you’d be over here in a heartbeat giving us your study notes and telling us the main points of the lesson.”

Hermione was starting to get rather red in the face. “Oh, you think so, do you? Well let’s see how generous I am when you two start panicking about next week’s Charms test. I bet neither of you two have even started reading the chapter. But don’t expect me to give you my notes! I want to see how you two do on your own for once without my help.”

Ron gave her a cocky, skeptical look before glancing at the silent third member of their group. “You hear that, Harry? She says she’s not going to help us with our Charms test. How much you want to bet she’s lending us her notes before Tuesday. She… Harry? Hey, Harry? You listening to me?”

Harry shook himself out of what were clearly troubled thoughts and looked up at them. Hermione and Ron both studied their friend worriedly. Harry looked terrible, and - thinking about it now - had been unnaturally quiet all morning. He had stayed in bed longer than even Ron that morning, but still looked like he’d only gotten a couple of hours of sleep. There were dark circles under his eyes and he looked as though he were lost in some sort of daze. Though stranger and stranger things have been happening to their friend lately Ron and Hermione could safely say their friend’s current state made them even more worried then usual.

“Harry,” Hermione tentatively asked, “are you alright?” Then lowering her voice, “Did you have another vision of You-Know-Who last night?”

Harry stared at her with dull green eyes for a moment before hoarsely answering, “No. But I did have this really weird dream… It almost felt like one of my visions, but it wasn’t the same. I wasn’t looking out through Voldemort’s eyes or anything. It was like I was myself. But it wasn’t like any kind of normal dream I‘ve had before, so I don‘t really know what to make of it.”

Hermione and Ron both leaned forward in their seats.

“What was it?” Ron demanded. “What did you see?”

Harry related his strange dream the night before of him wandering Hogwarts, unseen by anyone else as he followed the pull of some silent call.

Hermione and Ron seemed just as perplexed as their friend, and questioned him intensely about it.

“That’s strange… What do you think was calling you?” Hermione asked.

Harry shook his head. “I don’t know. It was like I somehow knew where I should go though.”

Ron leaned forward in his seat. “Where were you going?”

“Towards the dungeons. I remember being at the top of the stairs that go down to the Potion classrooms, but I woke up before I could reach the bottom…”

The three friends all shared troubled looks. It was unnecessary for any of them to say who lived in the dungeons near the Potion classrooms - one who’s loyalty to the Light side was currently in question…

“Do you think it might have been some kind of trick of You-Know-Who‘s?” Ron said. “You know, like he was trying to somehow lead you out of the castle so he could get you?”

“No,” Harry replied, shaking his head again. “I don’t think Voldemort had anything to do with last night. Although…” He trailed uncertainly.

Ron and Hermione both leaned forward, sensing Harry had just remembered something important.

“What is it, Harry?” Hermione asked.

Harry chewed the bottom of his lip before slowly replying, “I remember my left forearm hurting in my dream. Right where-”

“You-Know-Who’s Dark Mark is,” Hermione finished for him.

“Yeah. But like I said, it wasn’t like any other kind of vision I’ve had before,” Harry said.

Hermione looked thoughtful. “If you say it wasn’t a vision than maybe it really was nothing more than a dream…” She sounded almost hopeful that that was all it really was.

Harry didn’t say anything in response and for several minutes, the three of them just sat there in silence, mulling over the details of Harry’s strange dream. A group of excited Third Years suddenly came bursting into the Commons Room through the portrait, talking excitedly about their excursion to Hogsmead. It created an almost surreal contrast to the tension surrounding the three older students.

Frustrated and tired and unable to think of any explanation for his dream, Harry ran a hand through his perpetually disheveled hair. “Have you started any research on that black stone I was telling you about from my visions, Hermione?” he abruptly asked.

Hermione looked up at him in surprise. “I have. But I haven’t had much luck with it yet. I checked all the main reference books concerning magic stones and other objects used for magical purposes, but I haven’t found anything like what you described. I wanted to try and start on a different section, but with all these tests coming up next week I‘ve been busy studying and making notes, so…”

“That’s okay,” Harry assured her. “I understand. But we have to figure out what I saw in Snape’s memory soon. This is important. If we can figure out what it is, maybe we can figure out a way to help him…”

“Whatever the case,” Ron spoke up, “all this talk of visions and evil stones is starting to make me a little bit nervous. Are you sure you don’t want to tell anyone about what‘s going on, Harry? Not even Sirius? I bet he’d be able to help you somehow.”

“That’s a good idea. You should write and tell him what’s going on,” Hermione agreed. “He’ll be worried if he finds out you’re still having visions and didn’t tell him.”

Harry still had doubts about telling anyone else about his visions or continued concern for his Potion master’s welfare. But he doubted telling Ron and Hermione that would do much good. They didn’t seem to want to believe him when he said he couldn’t trust such information to anyone else but them. Dumbledore had proved too many times already he didn’t believe the authenticity of his visions, and Harry was tired of having them written off as mere dreams. This was serious and he knew he couldn’t trust anyone else to do anything about it but himself.

He knew Sirius would be worried if he ever heard he was still having visions, but he doubted his godfather would be very worried if he told him that they always seemed to concern an old Slytherin classmate of his…

Nevertheless, he wasn’t about to voice such concerns to his already worried friends…

“Yeah, I guess…” Harry softly murmured, not meeting his friends’ eyes. “I haven’t talked to Sirius in a long time anyway. He’s probably wondering if I dropped off the face of the planet or something… I’ll write him later tonight.”

This seemed to placate his friend and soon the conversation moved away to other topics. But in the back of Harry’s head, the nagging feeling that something was wrong never quite fully left his mind…

Harry’s mind was a whirlwind of unsettled thoughts as he lay in bed later that night listening to the snores of his fellow dorm mates. Exhaustion pulled at his senses, but no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t seem to make himself relax and go to sleep. He restlessly tossed and turned in bed, unable to get comfortable. Finally throwing himself onto his back, Harry stared up at the canopy of his bed.

Snape had been missing earlier that evening at dinner. Any other year, Harry probably wouldn’t have cared, let alone even noticed. But with all the strange things happening since his accident in London the week before school, he’d found his Potion master beginning to occupy more and more of his waking (and sleeping) thoughts.

Why hadn’t he been at dinner? Had something happened? Technically it was the weekend and many of the teachers were usually absent from one or two meals, but Snape rarely ever missed a meal…

Harry restlessly rolled onto his side and stared out the window on the other side of the room. Silvery moonlight was streaming in from outside. Harry somehow found the nocturnal brightness ill-suited to his dark and troubled thoughts. Rolling onto his other side, Harry turned his back on the silvery light.

Was he looking into Snape’s absence too much? Because he’d slept in so late that morning, he hadn’t seen if Snape had been at lunch or breakfast. Maybe he was just being paranoid. But no matter what he told himself, he couldn’t help but think that last night’s vision had had something to do with Hogwart’s Potions master. After all, why would he have been going towards the dungeons? And why else would his left arm have been hurting unless it was somehow connected to Snape? He was the only Marked person in the whole school, and there was no denying that almost all of Harry’s visions the last few weeks had somehow involved Snape.

But then again, he, Hermione, and Ron had all agreed that what he’d seen last night had only been a dream…

Sighing, Harry rolled back onto his back.

He was so tired… It felt like every night he lost a little bit more sleep because of these visions and strange dreams. He wondered if things kept going as they were if he would at some point not be able to sleep at all.

He was just so tired. All he wanted to do was close his eyes and go to sleep. Maybe he should try and see if he could get some Dreamless Sleep Potion from Madam Pomfrey. It was too late to get any now, but maybe tomorrow he could ask her…

Closing his eyes, Harry took a deep breath and tried to calm his troubled mind. He felt his exhaustion once again pull at his senses, gently lulling him towards the brink of consciousness. He didn’t fight the darkness though. He was so tired…

He once again found himself wandering the halls of Hogwarts in a dreamlike, disconnected state. Something was calling him, urging him on. He mindlessly followed it, somehow knowing where he was going even though he didn’t. The portraits and different hallways seemed to drift past him as though he were moving along on some kind of invisible current.

He came to the moving stairs and took a flight that led him to the main entrance hall of the castle. He didn’t see anyone else around, and paused for a moment to admire the emptiness of the deserted hall.

The giant hourglasses containing the House Points of the four different Houses stood on the other side of the hall. By the current standings, Ravenclaw looked as though it was in the lead by at least several inches of shining blue sapphires. Gryffindor and Slytherin looked about equal, rubies and emeralds fighting each other for dominance. Hufflepuff’s topazes stood only several inches below that of the two other Houses competing for second place.

Harry admired the towering hourglasses. The different gems shined brightly in the moonlight filtering in through the windows. They were somehow eerily beautiful, like the treasure from some exotic, distant world.

The pull tugging at the back of Harry’s mind reached out to him again, urging him to hurry. He had to go.

Harry turned away from the hourglasses. But as he began to walk away, he suddenly felt a searing pain shoot across his left forearm.

Grabbing his arm, Harry fell to his knees, unable to fight the pain. He felt tears sting his eyes. It hurt so bad! How could anyone stand this kind of pain? He felt as though his entire arm was on fire.

He had to clench his teeth together to keep from screaming out. He felt as though the pain was trying to consume him, slowly inching its way up his arm.

Harry clutched his arm tighter to his chest. No! He couldn’t let the pain take over him like this. He had to fight it! Focusing his mind and magic on the indescribable pain invading his body, Harry pushed back, willing it to leave him.

But the pain refused to recede. Almost like a thinking entity, it pushed back, trying to invade his very mind now.

But Harry was not about to let it have its way. Concentrating harder than he ever thought he had before, the boy fought back, trying to push the pain from his body. He felt his magic swell. A silvery blue aura appeared around him, manifested by the strength and determination of his will. He felt it surround and envelop him - a cloud of pure raw magical energy.

The pain still refused to leave him.

Concentrating harder, Harry pushed back, screaming between clenched teeth as he felt the magical aura of air around him compress and then suddenly expand, exploding in a great burst of unrestrained magic.

Harry heard the sound of shattering glass and then the tinkling sound of cascading jewels on the flagstones behind him. Jewels scattered everywhere, showering the entrance hall in a rain of precious stones.

But Harry was hardly even conscious of it all. The pain was slowly receding, bleeding away from his arm like a bad dream.

He felt darkness rise up around him, his body completely spent from the energy needed to fight the unholy invasion. He felt as though he were suddenly falling. Falling forward into darkness.

He didn’t fight it as his vision went black and the room slowly faded away.

Harry woke the next morning feeling exhausted and distinctly ill-rested. His eyes were gritty and red from lack of sleep, and he felt strangely drained. He somehow forced himself out of bed and got dressed.

I have to talk to Madam Pomfrey today about getting some Dreamless Sleep Potion, he told himself as he pulled a semi-clean robe down over his head. After last night’s dream they’re all going to lock me in St. Mungo’s if I tell anyone what I saw. I swear these dreams are getting weirder all the time…

Ron was almost irritably perky as they made their way downstairs to breakfast. Harry had to force himself to focus on what his friend was saying.

“… and Dean Thomas was saying yesterday that since the Chudley Cannons decided to trade Michael Holloway for a new Beater from Scotland they might have a chance at winning the championship now. I haven’t heard much about this new guy, but they say he’s really good! Beat out all the other people trying out for the position. After Holloway’s performance last season, I can’t say this new guy could be any worse. Dean said that one of the Irish teams were also looking to sign him, but that the Cannons beat them to it.”

“Mm hm…” Harry mumbled, only half listening to what Ron was saying. “That’s nice…”

Ron glanced sideways at his friend, as though he knew Harry hadn’t caught of word of what he’d just said. Frowning, he asked, “You okay, mate? You look a little bit worn around the edges. Don’t tell me you had another vision last night!”

Harry tiredly shook his head. “It wasn’t a vision. At least I don’t think so… It was another dream like the one I had yesterday…”

Ron gave his friend a commiserating look. “At least you didn’t wake up half the tower this time,” he joked.

Despite himself, Harry smiled. Leave it to Ron to make him at least temporary forget about his troubles… “Yeah,” he chuckled. “Think about what Malfoy would say if he heard that happened again.”

Chuckling, the two hopped a staircase leading to the main floor. As they descended the stairs, they saw a mass of people - both students and teachers - crowding the main entrance hall. None of them were moving towards the Great Hall. Many of them stood in small groups, whispering and pointing to an area on the other side of the hall which was too crowded for Harry and Ron to see around.

“I want to know who did this!” Harry heard Filtch angrily yell over the excited murmur of the students. “Who did this?”

Harry and Ron spotted Hermione on the edge of the crowd and came up beside her.

“What’s going on?” Ron asked, trying to peer over the heads of the other students. “What’s Filtch screaming on about?”

“I’m not quite sure,” she replied. “I just got down here myself. But some of the other people said that somebody vandalized school property. Dumbledore and all the other teachers are trying to figure out who did it. Filtch is just about fit to be tied and threatening whoever did it with the rack and boiling oil...”

Harry glanced towards the other side of the hall where everyone else was crowded. Leaving Ron and Hermione, he made his way towards it. Pushing his way through the crowd, he finally came to the edge of the scene.

Filtch was standing next to Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape, and several other teachers, all surveying the destruction before them. Harry felt his blood run cold at the sight he beheld.

The hourglasses containing the House Points of all four Houses were broken - shattered as though someone had taken a blasting curse to them. Broken glass lay everywhere. Sapphires, rubies, emeralds, and topazes littered the floor, mixed together like a colorful assortment of Christmas candy.

Harry could only stare, unable to believe what he saw. It was exactly like in his dream…

But dreams were just that - dreams! They didn’t come true. It had been a dream that he’d accidentally broken the House hourglasses when he’d been fighting off the pain in his arm. There was no way it could have actually happened!

But then how else could he explain the shattered glass and jewels scattered across the floor?