At night, his thoughts focused on one thought: Was Voldemort going to invade his dreams again? He did not know, but his last thoughts dwelled upon that unhappy thought before he fell asleep. He awoke with a start a few hours after falling asleep. He rushed a couple of panicked breaths in before he could regain control. Did he come? he thought, but Harry could not remember. He racked his memory, but nothing. His scar was not hurting, so it was a good sign. He looked around and saw Seamus silhouetted against the window. He was watching outside, and he turned to see Harry was watching him. Harry got out of bed and walked over to talk to him.
                              
"What are you doing?" Harry whispered.
                              
"Just thinking about the war, I can't go outside anymore more, you know, with all those rampaging griffins out there," he said with a smile and Harry returned it. "Bad dream?" Seamus asked.
                              
"Don't remember. Don't know if I want to remember it," he said, truthfully.
                              
"Well, it's your business. I wouldn't tell anyone my dreams, unless they were really funny," he said, smiling.
                              
"Yeah, I want to be alone. I think I'll go sit by the fire." Harry said. 
                              
Seamus nodded to show he understood and Harry walked down into the common room. It seemed so private at night. He curled up on a couch by the fire and watched it spark and crackle. Crookshanks jumped up onto him and Harry petted him. 
                              
Ron and Hermione weren't going to let up, he thought. They are going to make me tell them the prophecy. Voldemort could capture and torture them. No, they must not know. They just believe it is about Sirius. His heart sank just thinking about him. 
                              
He watched him slowly fall when the spell hit him. He had to save him... Lupin had to let him save him this time. Sirius.... He woke up again. Dawn was approaching. He did not want to wait for Hermione to get up. He ran up and quietly got his bag. Everyone was still asleep. He left quietly down the stairs and out the portrait hole. He did not get to the sixth floor before....
                              
"Potter!" Harry turned to look into the crazed eyes of demented, bitter caretaker.
                              
"Yes," Harry said trying to act polite.
                              
"Don't say yes like that, what are you doing out of bed at this time of morning?" Filch spat at him.
                              
"Walking around. It's morning," Harry muttered.
                              
"No one walks around this time of the morning! You are up to something, like all the rest of the brats in here," he spluttered.
                              
"Well, if there isn't anything you can accuse me of, can I go?" Harry said, indifferently.
                              
Filch glared at him, "If I find one thing out of place...."
                              
"Yeah, I know, you will hang up by my wrists in the dungeons," he said bluntly and walked away from the infuriated caretaker, before he could respond. 
                              
He walked down to the fourth floor and headed toward the West Tower to visit Hedwig. He went into the circular room of Owlery and searched the rafters that were lit up by the morning light, trying to find his snowy white owl. 
                              
She was not hard to find, but before he could reach for her, she hooted, flew down and rested on his arm. He stroked her and apologized for not having a letter. He remembered he would usually send Sirius a letter, telling him about the dreams, but he could not do that anymore. He gently stroked her for a while and then he raised his arm and said a farewell as she flew off his hand and went up into the rafters. She continued to watch him, as he headed for the door. He gave one last look at her amber eyes and left.
                              
He went downstairs and into the Great Hall. There were a few dishes for early risers. He ate a few bites, but he was not very hungry. He sat there, and people started to arrive. He really didn't want to be around people, so he walked out into the entrance hall and went downstairs to Potions, which didn't start for another two hours. He knew no one in their right in mind would hang around in Snape's dungeon. He slid down the cold, stone wall and sat on the floor. He did not know why he was avoiding Ron and Hermione, but it seemed like a good idea. An hour passed without incident, until he heard footsteps coming down the stone steps. Snape appeared. He was clearly getting ready for class. He was carrying some sort of potion in his hand.