DISCLAIMER: Rowling created Harry Potter. I created this story.

-Chapter Sixteen-

Nighttime Wanderings

"Professor, I've finished copying down everything you told me to." John said, laying down his quill.

Professor Weasley looked up from her book.

"All right, Mr. Reeds, you may leave now." She said. She stood up with him as he collected his bag and made for the door.

"I shall lock my office now. Return straight to the Gryffindor Tower, Reeds. Good night."

"Good night, Professor." John turned left for the staircase leading to the Gryffindor Tower. It hadn't been such a bad evening, he reflected, as he made his way in the dark. Professor Weasley had made him copy the old quidditch records from 1970 to 1990, and a lot of familiar names had jumped to him while doing it. There was the mention of Mr. Lupin, Meg and Mark's dad, as commentator, James Potter and Ron's uncle Charlie as Gryffindor seekers and so on. Still, he thought, detention for looking out of the window for a chance second was too hard. He hadn't realized before that Professor Weasley could be this strict.

He stopped suddenly as he spotted a hooded figure coming up the staircase. He was carrying a staff, but instead of using it for support, he was holding it with both arms. John glanced at his watch, which said it was quarter past eleven. Who could it be?

You've just had a detention"- a voice said inside his head. John chose to ignore it. Following the man was difficult as he kept glancing back and sideways. Fortunately for John, it was dark and he was thin enough to be concealed by a statue or a pillar or a Coat of Armour, which were quite regularly met with in Hogwarts corridors. And also, Peeves was not around. The man stopped outside Professor Nott's office and knocked. The door opened and the man went in, closing it again behind him. 'You are being reckless"- said the voice inside his head again, but John went and pressed his ear against the keyhole. Sound of hushed conversation came from within, and he recognized the voice of Theodore Nott. So, Mr. Nott had come to meet his wife. He really shouldn't eavesdrop anymore, John thought, and made to pull away, when Mr. Nott spoke again.

"It is not working properly here." He was saying, and he sounded angry and impatient, "Pansy, I want you to find out what protective spells are at work in Hogwarts."

What was not working here? Something evil, seeing that Hogwarts was resisting it? But how could Mr. Nott harm Hogwarts when his own son was here?

There was a low purr and John looked down in time to see Mrs. Norris scurrying away, possibly to get Filch.

"Run"-said the voice in his head and this time he heeded it. Without caring for how much sound he was making, he ran for life. He could soon hear Filch's footsteps behind him. He found a staircase and started climbing down, without thinking where it would take him. He had not gone five steps when he tripped and sprained his ankle. He was now done for it. Filch's footsteps were becoming louder every second. With a sinking heart he stared at the top of the staircase, waiting for Filch to appear there with his leering face, when several things happened at once. He found himself lifted up by someone he couldn't see. He tried to scream out in horror, but a strong hand that seemed to belong to no one clamped down on his mouth. Next second, he found himself pulled inside some kind of a silvery cloak. The hand, which he could suddenly see now, still covered his mouth, effectively pinning him against somebody's body, and he was relieved to realize that the hand wasn't after all a dismembered one. But because of the way in which he was held, he couldn't turn back to see the person's face. Soon enough, Filch appeared, holding a lantern and with Mrs. Norris tagging along (he had a strong urge to kick out at her, but the person holding him had made that impossible too. Miraculously, Filch walked right past them without a glance at them.

"Sniff, my sweet, he must be somewhere around."

Mrs. Norris fixed her lamp-like eyes right on them, but she too skulked away behind her master.

"Be quiet." The man holding him said warningly, when both the caretaker and his cat had disappeared, and slowly removed the cloak and then his hand, though still holding John by the shoulder. John turned around immediately and found that his captor was a young man, tall, thin, with messy dark hair and glasses. He looked somewhat familiar, but John couldn't place him.

"Mrs. Norris is such a pest, isn't she?" the man asked him, grinning. He took out a wand from his pocket, and pointing it to his ankle, muttered something.

John found his ankle healed.

"Thank you, er…who are you?" he managed to stammer out.

The man smiled.

"You are John Reeds, aren't you?" he asked instead. "So you thought you would eavesdrop at your teacher's door when everybody else was in bed?"

John stared at him stupefied. He wanted to ask how he knew his name, but he was too amazed to speak.

"I had a detention with Professor Weasley." He said weakly, after a while.

"Wow, first you have a detention and then you go on a castle-tour instead of returning to your dormitory. You seem to be quite a regular rule-breaker." For some strange reason, the man seemed to be quite amused.

"Who are you?" John asked again.

"That's an interesting question. I'll tell you, but tell me first, what were the Notts saying?"

"I didn't hear the whole of it," John said hesitatingly, "But Mr. Nott was angry that something was not working properly at Hogwarts because of the protective spells, and he asked Professor Nott to find out what those spells were. That's all I heard."

The man seemed to be satisfied with this report.

"She's always right." he muttered softly to himself and then turned back at him.

"Thank you, John. Well, I have some work of my own here tonight, but I will first escort you to the Gryffindor Tower. Get under the cloak and be careful not to make any sound."

They reached the Fat Lady's portrait in silence. The stranger led him through a couple of shortcuts which John hadn't known before. In front of the portrait John threw off the cloak and grabbed the man's hand.

"You still haven't told me your name." He said accusingly.

The man laughed and then glancing at the sleeping portrait pulled John a little away from it.

"You are so impatient. I like that. Well, my name is Harry Potter."

"Don't be ridiculous. Harry Potter is dead. He died eleven years ago. "

"The Boy Who Had Died has come back." The man said softly, and brushed the hair off his forehead. "Do you know this?" he asked John.

John stared. There on his forehead was the famous scar. He observed his face- yes, those green eyes, that messy hair, it resembled the picture on his Chocolate frog card a great deal.

"But…but…how did you…"

"Survive?" he finished his question for him, "Well, I've always been good at it. But keep it quiet, all right, John? I don't want many people to know I am here."

"But I want to tell my friends I've met you." John said feeling disappointed. Ron knew a lot of stories about Harry Potter, but he could now tell him he had met him!

"Well, you can tell Ron or the Lupins, but make sure they don't tell anyone else. It was nice meeting you. Good night." He turned to go.

"Good night." John said dazedly. "The man not only knew his name and what he had been doing, but he also knew who his friends were. A sudden idea struck him.

"Mr. Potter?"

Harry Potter turned back.

"Call me Harry, please."

"Well, Harry, can I ask you something?

"Yes?" He asked smiling.

"Do you know where Professor Granger is?"

Harry looked him up and down.

"You know, the Fat Lady has a habit of disappearing in the middle of the night. You better be quick or you won't be able to make it to bed tonight."

With that, he was gone.

-XXX-

Ginny hadn't been long asleep when something woke her up. She sat up on her bed, and listened. There was a soft knocking at her office door. She switched on the lights and put on her blue dressing gown and then went to open the door, clutching her wand firmly. There was no one outside. She stepped outside the door and looked sideways. There was no one in sight, not even a ghost. She had probably imagined it. She was prone to this kind of things these days, since Hermione's disappearance. She came in again and locked her door and was about to turn off the lights when she saw someone standing inside her room. Her heart stopped and she stared wordlessly at the person, without moving or speaking. She was taking it all in, the emerald eyes, the messed up hair, the scar that was almost hidden behind it, the silvery invisibility cloak and an old piece of parchment in his hands, she noticed everything and they all seemed to fit; but somehow, her mind could not register what she was seeing.

The person took a step towards her.

"Ginny?" He said softly, tentatively, "It's me, Ginny. It's me, Harry."

Ginny clutched her head in her arms.

"I am dreaming." She moaned feverishly, "I am dreaming again! I need to stop dreaming about the old days, I really need to…"

Harry strode up to her and clutched her, "Ginny," he said in a stronger voice, "it's really me. I am here. I am back. I am alive, Ginny."

The last word finally made an effect, and Ginny looked up at his face.

"It's really you." She said whispering, more to herself than to Harry, and then, "Oh, Harry!" She flung herself on him and broke down.

Some minutes passed, or maybe, an eternity. Ginny stopped weeping, and looked up those bright eyes, which didn't seem very dry either.

"Where have you been?" She asked lightly, as though Harry had just returned from a weekend trip he had gone on without telling her.

"That's such a long tale, Ginny, " he smiled, "will you keep me standing all night?"

-XXX-

"You are lying. I am not going to believe you." Ron said flatly, when John had finished narrating the previous night's experience, revealing the mysterious stranger's identity only at the end, just as Harry himself had done to him.

"But, look, he was here. I saw him. I saw his scar, and cloak. It was really him. And he knows where Hermione Granger is."

"Did he tell you where?"

"Of course not, but…"

"See what I mean?"

"Are you fighting again?" said a girl from the doorway of their dorm. "Honestly, aren't you guys ever tired, or hungry, for that matter?"

"John reckons he met Harry Potter last night." Her brother told her.

"What? Did you really? What was he like?" She asked excitedly.

"Meg has always believed Harry Potter to be alive. She used to reason out her theories on it with dad." Mark remarked dryly.

"Let's go down for breakfast. I'll tell you all on the way to the hall." John told Meg, "And meanwhile, you two, if you don't believe it, don't at least go around telling everyone. He asked me to keep it to myself, and I suppose he was right."