[Discontinued] When Shadows Collide, The Game Begins

Chapter Twenty Three

The week following Harry leaving the Hospital Wing was probably the weirdest one he's had in a long time. For one thing, Ron kept on trying to talk to him about things that he was fairly sure never happened, and Malfoy kept on trying to talk to him, not insult him, just talk. If that wasn't strange enough, Harry felt strangely guilty every time he insulted the blond git, as if the hate was unfounded. It wasn't though, Harry was sure of it. He was sure there was a reason that they hated each other. If only he could remember it...

Harry had also been plagued by nightmares. Dead bodies and crime scenes littered his sleeping mind, as did an odd-looking flat, the walls covered in newspaper clippings and a Cluedo board underneath a large mirror. There were other things in the flat too, things that might be ordinary alone, but together, were just a bit off. Harry couldn't figure out what these things were, as dreams were always difficult to remember. For some reason, everything in his dreams was extremely familiar, even though he knew they were all made up by his imagination.

He'd asked Hermione about it, and she'd said it was probably from a movie or something. Harry had agreed, at the time, but he'd never really watched movies. The Dursleys hadn't let him. Though something about the Dursleys felt off too.

The only thing he could be sure of was that his meal-time headaches had started again. What caused them remained a mystery, as did why they stopped for around half the year.

They were particularly bad one Wednesday morning, the same morning that Malfoy decided to talk to him.

"Hey, Harry," said Draco, coming over to the Gryffindor table.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" spat Harry, holding his head in his hands.

"Well, Potter, I was going to give you some help for your headaches, but clearly you don't want any." Harry looked up and turned.

"Why are you doing this, Malfoy? Why are you trying to be nice? We both know this is torture for you, so why bother?" Malfoy looked strangely taken aback. He opened his mouth to say something, but Harry cut him off. "Just piss off. I can't deal with you right now." A flicker of hurt crossed Malfoy's face, replaced by confusion, then steely grey malice. He turned and stalked away, leaving Harry to bury his face in his arms, trying to rid himself of the headache.

When it became unbearable, as it usually would, Harry got up and left the Great Hall. The moment he left the room, the headache disappeared and a feeling he hadn't even noticed lifted off his shoulders. He sighed and leaned against a wall, wishing his dreams would leave him alone. Sleep hadn't been coming easily as of late.

"Are your headaches getting worse?" asked Hermione a few minutes later as she left the great hall. Harry looked up at her, bloodshot eyes and sunken features. "And the nightmares?" She looked at him, pity clear on her face.

"I just can't sleep anymore," said Harry, falling into step beside Hermione as they walked to their first class. "The dreams are too weird. I honestly prefer this to what I see." Harry shivered slightly, closing his eyes as dozens of dead bodies filled his mind. He shook his head slightly and did his best to push the images to the dark depths of his memory.

"You should ask Madam Pomfrey for a sleeping draught. One of those dreamless ones," said Ron, seemingly having appeared from nowhere. Harry jumped slightly before nodding.

"After class," he replied through a yawn. Hermione nodded, though still looked worried. Harry knew they might start asking about the dreams, and the last thing he wanted was them to think he was some sort of... he couldn't think of the word. Harry had an odd feeling that he would've known, if only something was... different? He couldn't be sure.