When the huge clock on the clock tower chimed twelve times, Harry realized that it had to be near lunchtime and hurried back down the huge staircase, knowing that he would be able to find his way back to the large dining hall.

As soon as Harry entered the Hall, the old man, who looked like Father Christmas, called him over and motioned him to sit on the chair next to him. Harry hesitantly sat down, throwing the old man an anxious glance.

“Is everything all right, Harry?” the old man queried in a gentle voice, causing Harry to nod.

“Yes sir,” he replied in a small voice. ‘How could anything be all right? I don’t even know who you are or where I am,’ he mused, slowly beginning to panic.

“Harry, please don’t forget to pull your robes over your casual attire when you attend meals in the Great Hall. By the way, tomorrow is Christmas Eve. If you have time, perhaps you could help Professor Flitwick decorate the tree as well as the Great Hall,” the Father Christmas like man suggested, and a small smile appeared on Harry’s face.

“I’d like that, sir,” he said shyly, hesitantly taking a spoonful of vegetables on his plate as dinner appeared on the table, while he mused, ‘Robes? What robes? Is that what they’re all wearing? But how do I get those?’

“What do you think Father Christmas is going to bring you this year, Harry?” a lady, who was sitting opposite of him, enquired in a soft voice, pulling him out of his thoughts.

“Probably nothing,” Harry whispered uncomfortably. “I’ve never received anything from Father Christmas.”

“Ah, but I’m sure you’ll receive something this year,” the old man reassured him in a soothing voice, ignoring the gasps that his female colleagues let out at Harry’s reply.

When lunch was over, Harry continued to explore the castle, hoping to find his way back to the room, where he had spent the night, because he longed to lie down either on his bed or in front of the fireplace in order to forget his headache for a moment and to escape the icy air that crept through the thick stone walls into the corridors. However, he was not very successful to say the least.

After a few hours of walking around the castle, he let himself sink on the floor, leaning his back against the stone wall to rest for a few minutes. On the opposite wall was a large painting of two men and two ladies, who were sitting in a vast flower garden, having tea together. Suddenly, one of the women seemed to take pity on his exhausted figure and queried gently, “What are you doing on this floor, my boy? Hardly any student comes here.”

Harry let out a deep sigh, being in too much pain and fatigue to really comprehend that he was talking to a picture as he replied, “I’m looking for the comfortable room with the fireplace and many sofas around it, from where two stairs go up leading to several sleeping rooms.”

“Ah, you’re probably looking for your common room,” one of the men nodded in understanding. “Which House are you in, child?”

“I don’t know,” Harry whispered anxiously.

“You must know where you have been sorted, silly boy,” the other man threw in sternly, causing Harry to cringe at the tone.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t even know how I came here,” he explained hesitantly. “This morning, I woke up here in the castle, although I went to bed at home last night.”

“Something must be really wrong then,” the first man said thoughtfully. “What colour did the common room have? I mean the sofas and chairs as well as all the other equipment.”

“Red,” Harry replied anxiously.

“Well, then it’s Gryffindor, but the problem is that we can’t take you up to the tower to show you the entrance, because there are not enough pictures for us to hide and show you the way,” the man continued to speak. Let’s go and see if we can find one of the ghosts, who could lead the small one up to Gryffindor,” he suggested to his friends, and to Harry’s amazement the two men hurriedly left the picture.

Finally, Harry became aware of the fact that he was talking to a picture. He wearily put a hand up to his forehead, rubbing it fiercely. ‘What’s wrong with me?’ he thought horrified.

“How old are you, sweetie?” the first lady queried in a soft voice.

“I’m eight,” Harry told her, before his eyes widened at the sight of a silvery figure floating up the corridor and finally stopping right in front of him.

“Hello, I’m Helena Ravenclaw, the daughter of one of the founders of this school,” the ghost explained in a gentle voice. “But they also call me ‘The Gray Lady’,” she added.

“Hello, I’m Harry,” the boy mumbled in fear. “I’m sorry, but where am I?”

“You’re at Hogwarts, sweetie,” the friendly ghost replied gently. “Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”

“Is this all real?” Harry asked anxiously, “or am I delirious?”

“We’re completely real,” the Gray Lady informed him softly. “Sir Arthur told me I should accompany you to Gryffindor tower, because you got lost. Shall we go?”

Harry readily agreed, thanking the four people in the picture profusely, before he hurried after the ghost, who was floating ahead in a moderate speed. All of a sudden, the Gray Lady stopped and waited for him. “Why is it that you’re looking for Gryffindor in spite of not even knowing that you’re at Hogwarts, my dear?” she queried gently, causing Harry to tell the nice ghost everything.

“Oh, well, I can show you to the common room, but it might be better if you went to the Headmaster and spoke with him. Do you know Professor Dumbledore?”

“No.” Harry shook his head. “Oh wait. Is that the man, who looks like Father Christmas?” he guessed, causing the ghost to chuckle.

“Exactly my boy, and I believe that he probably is the only one in the castle, who might be able to help you.”

“Maybe I’ll speak to him tomorrow, but for now I’d just like to lie down and sleep, because I’ve a terrible headache and feel a bit dizzy,” Harry admitted in a small voice.

“Shall I take you to the hospital wing?” the ghost enquired with an expression of concern on her face.

“No thank you,” Harry replied, blushing deeply.

“All right, I know what we do,” the Gray Lady spoke up after remaining thoughtful for a moment. “Not far from here is the Room of Requirement. You have to pace in front of the door three times and whish for a room according to your needs, and then the room will appear. You can get a good night’s sleep, and I hope you’ll feel better tomorrow. If not you can call Rory, who is a many times great grandchild of my personal house elf, and he'll call me for you, so I can take you to the hospital wing.”

The ghost showed Harry where to pace the floor, and after a short while, a door appeared in the wall. Harry thanked the kind ghost profusely and hesitantly entered the room, looking around in fascination. ‘This is exactly as I imagined it. That’s amazing, just as if it was magic,’ he mused, looking around in fright as he thought the bad word with ‘m’, but Uncle Vernon was nowhere to be seen. ‘Wait, what did the Gray Lady call the castle? School for witchcraft and wizardry? Does this mean it’s a school for magic? I really must be dreaming. How can I get out of that dream, before Uncle Vernon might hear me talk about such things in my dream?’ he thought, slightly panicking.

The room held a huge bed like the one in which he had woken up in the morning, although the covers and curtains weren’t red but were kept in a light blue just like he had imagined it when he wished for the room. Next to the bed was a small bookshelf containing several books, which he’d loved to read if it weren’t for the headache, and a door led to a small bathroom. Extremely grateful to be able to lie down, Harry merely took off his shoes and scrambled into bed, falling asleep within seconds. He dreamed of moving pictures and talking ghosts, oblivious to the fact that six floors down an enraged Potions Master and a lemon drop sucking Headmaster told a worried Head of Gryffindor that her little lion didn’t only skip dinner and his detention in the Potions classroom but also behaved strangely at the meals he had been forced to attend.

HP

The next thing Harry knew was that a small creature was standing next to his bed bowing deeply. “Master Harry musts gets up and attends breakfast,” it told him in a high squeaking voice.

Harry lazily opened his eyes, noticing that his headache was still as bad as on the day before, and flinched back badly at the sight of the small creature.

“Excuse me, but...”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Master Harry. I’m Sunny, one of the house elves looking after the teachers. Professor McGonagall sent me to fetch you, because she couldn’t find you in Gryffindor.”

“Ah, right,” Harry replied shyly, remembering that the Grey Lady had said something about house elves the night before. “Excuse me,” he hesitantly began, “The Father Christmas like professor told me yesterday not to show up at meals without my ropes, but I don’t have any.” Seeing the small elf’s strange look, he mused, ‘No, it wasn’t ropes, but it was similar.’

“Wait a moment, Master Harry,” Sunny replied as understanding flashed up in her eyes and popped away, causing Harry’s eyes to widen in disbelief. An instant later, Sunny was back, handing Harry black robes. “Please head down to the Great Hall quickly,” the elf told him, before he popped away.

Harry pulled the robes over his pyjamas and took a minute to watch himself in the mirror, wondering what the crest meant that decorated the chest part of his robes, before he hurriedly left the room, glad that he knew where what everyone called ‘The Great Hall’ was. He hesitantly approached the teachers’ table, said politely, “Good morning,” and took a seat next to the tall professor, unaware of the fact that several people at the table frowned in incredulity at his decision of company.