Unrest

That night found Harry lying in bed unable to relax. He doubted he'd be able to sleep a wink. He was nervous. That morning he'd woken up refreshed and confident, but now he was worried that it had all just been a crazy dream. He wasn't even sure he'd see Sirius again tonight. He didn't even know if it was possible for something like that to happen. Maybe it had all been his imagination playing tricks on him. He had no idea what the rules were for this sort of thing.

Harry was also anxious for Hedwig's return. He was surprised with how worried he was about how Ginny would respond to his letter. After he sent it, he had wondered if he'd been too open with her or said too much. He hadn't meant to say so much in his letter, but once he started writing, he couldn't stop. He had felt so lonely the past week since coming back to Privet Drive. It had felt good just to talk to someone and to put himself out in the open. Ginny just happened to be the first person he wrote to, and it had all come out.

It wasn't that he was afraid he couldn't trust Ginny; he just wasn't comfortable sharing that much of himself with other people. She was definitely the last person who would ever go dark, and he couldn't imagine her running around telling everybody what he'd said. He was just worried about what she would think of him now. And he really didn't know her all that well, which made him that much more nervous. He wished he hadn't sent out the letter so quickly. He could have rewritten it, made it less personal.

He really hoped she didn't resent him for almost getting her killed or for completely neglecting her after the Chamber of Secrets. He could use all the friends he could get at this point, especially one who could understand what it was like to have a connection with Voldemort, to have him in your head. He still couldn't believe he'd forgotten about her run-in with Voldemort during his second year. It must've have been the worst time of her entire life, and he'd put it out of his mind without ever thinking about how she must be coping with it.

Harry realized that he often got caught up in his own problems and would completely forget or ignore others' issues. Granted his problems were often much more serious than the average person's, but that was no excuse to become entirely self-involved. He would just have to work on that and hope his friends could forgive him.

Harry resolved to write to Neville and Luna as soon as he'd written to Ron and Hermione. He owed them all his sincere thanks and an apology. He'd led them all into danger, but without them there, he most likely wouldn't have made it out of the ministry alive. Harry was glad he'd begun teaching the DA last year. Without the extra training, they would have been dead meat against those death eaters.

He decided he would speak to Dumbledore to see if he could continue with the DA as a school sanctioned club. With the training he'd be getting from Sirius this summer (that is assuming that he wasn't just letting his imagination run away with him, Harry reminded himself), he should still have plenty to teach his classmates.

He had spent the rest of his day going through some of his text books from the past couple years at Hogwarts. If he was learning during the day and practicing at night, then his training should hopefully go pretty smoothly. He also found himself going through the books he'd been given for this past Christmas that were meant to help him out with his DA lessons. Those were by far his favorite books of the lot.

Harry turned back to look at his clock to find that it was well past midnight already. He glanced out his window and could just make out a white speck in the distance, barely discernible in the darkness. He jumped up with a start and greeted Hedwig a minute later when she entered through his window. "There you are, girl. I've been wondering when you'd make it back." Hedwig gave him a reproachful hoot, so he quickly amended himself. "I didn't mean it like that, I was just anxious for you to get back because I couldn't sleep." This seemed to placate the owl, for she stuck out her leg and allowed Harry to untie the parchment that was attached.

Harry quickly unrolled the parchment, grateful for something to occupy his unrestful mind and began reading.