The same but different

Chapter 2 Memories

Everyone at school was talking about the Triwizard Tournament. Harry, personally, was only interested from the periphery; he'd had enough drama and danger in his school years so far, and was quite looking forward to watching someone else take it all on instead. The idea of foreign schools coming to visit was intriguing, though. He'd like to learn more about what magical societies were like in other parts of the world.

Mostly, Harry was - as per usual - focused on his own issues. Namely, his dreams.

Almost every night since he'd returned to Hogwarts, Harry had been disturbed by dreams. He could never remember them when he woke up, just the feeling of having them, but they felt... familiar. Like memories, only he knew that he'd never experienced those things before.

He hadn't had another dream like the one of Voldemort and Pettigrew, but that didn't stop Harry from worrying the Dark Lord was responsible for them.

He didn't mention the dreams to anyone. What could he say? 'I don't remember any of it but they don't feel like they're mine?' Enough people thought he was crazy as it was; even Hermione and Ron would have a hard time getting some logic out of that one.

So, Harry kept quiet, going about his usual business, and if he seemed a little distracted, no one brought it up. Again; perks of being Harry Potter. Hermione sent concerned looks his way sometimes, when she thought he wasn't looking, but he pretended not to notice.

With the foreign schools not due to arrive until the end of October, it felt like any other school year for now. "I wish we still had quidditch practice," Harry muttered, sat opposite the twins at dinner. "Feels like I haven't been outside except for classes since I got here."

"Tell us about it," Fred agreed, George humming in sympathy.

"At least we got to fly a bit in the summer," he added.

"Maybe I'll take my broom out at the weekend," Harry mused. "They can't stop us flying for fun, surely. There's just no time for quidditch matches with the tournament happening."

"Careful; Angelina hears you say that and we'll have full-team practices every week even without matches," Katie Bell piped up from a few seats down, eyeing their new captain warily. Angelina was far up the other end of the table, and all she could speak about these days was entering the tournament, wondering what they might have to do and how they could prove they were the best candidate for champion.

Personally, Harry wouldn't mind weekly practice - maybe if he was exhausted from quidditch he'd stop having weird dreams.

"Harry, have you finished the essay for Professor Flitwick?" Hermione asked. Harry racked his brain.

"You mean the one that's not due til Friday?"

Hermione's lips pursed. "That doesn't mean you should leave it until the night before," she scolded. "If you do the homework the night it's set, you're less likely to get snowed under and have to stay up all night. We have our OWLs next year, you should really get into good study habits now."

Beside her, Ron groaned. "Hermione, that's ages away!" he insisted. Hermione turned her lecture on him instead, and Harry shared a knowing look with the twins, who stifled snickers.

He was halfway through the essay. He wasn't Ron; he wouldn't leave everything until last-minute. The only reason he had in the past was he'd gotten a little side-tracked by other, more important things; like the strange voices in the pipes that turned out to be a murderous basilisk, or the supposed mass-murderer breaking into the school, or the forbidden corridor that his weird DADA professor seemed very interested in. He always had the best intentions with his schoolwork. It just became a little... hard to follow through sometimes.