It started with a Sleeping Potion, or at least that was how Neville liked to remember it. The potion had been stored in his bag for months, carefully wrapped in an Unbreakable Charm for the sole purpose of sending him to sleep when his nightmare returned.

The potion hadn't been brewed by him, and that was the only reason Neville had allowed Harry to take the potion. The entire Gryffindor House knew better than to consume something Neville had brewed - even Trevor had taken to hiding whenever Neville brewed something.

And, Harry was asleep - kind of. His eyes were firmly closed and his breathing was even, but he was standing and moving around as if he were awake. Neville was glad the other boys were asleep, or he was sure they would have called Hermione, or one of the prefects perhaps even McGonagall, to sort it out - after several strained minutes of horror and panic.

"Harry!" Neville whispered, as the boy headed towards the door. Neville followed Harry into the common room, but beat him to the entrance, standing guard in front of the portrait. "Where are you going?"

Harry tried to push past him, but Neville held firm. It shouldn't have been difficult since Harry was skinny, but Harry was determined even in his sleep. Neville almost wished he knew enough spells to have been able to stun Harry before they had even left the dormitory. The potion would wear off before anyone else woke up, and no one would have known anything.

One unexpected shove after several long moments of stillness had Neville careening off to the side, and away from the entrance. Harry took the moment to dash through the entrance, and Neville forced himself to hurry after the boy, certain that he was going to get into trouble for this - and Gryffindor didn't need to lose more house points than they already had.

They were dead last in House standings, and making the point difference larger would only make the tension in the Gryffindor Common Room worse. The Slytherins would laugh them to their graves.

If the school thought Harry was good on a broomstick, they had clearly never seen him run. Neville was winded, but still forced himself to duck down deserted corridors and scramble through hidden passageways after Harry, all the while contemplating exactly how he would get Harry back into the Common Room - and if he even remembered the password since he hadn't a moment to grab his password parchment.

Harry entered a dusty classroom that Neville thought was a corridor or two away from the library. Neville couldn't understand why that classroom in particular had been Harry's destination, but he was grateful for the opportunity to catch his breath.

A mirror stood in the centre of the room; the tables and chairs that had previously occupied the room were piled against the walls, covered in cobwebs and dust. The floor held signs of what Neville realised were Harry's many visits to that classroom; and Harry himself stared wistfully into the mirror.

Having grown up in a magical family, Neville knew that this kind of obsession with a magical object was a terrible sign; and that the mirror must have held some kind of powerful enchantment. Curiosity and wariness battled within him as he inched closer, hoping for some kind of clue to break the enchantment on Harry.

Neville ignored the words etched onto the wood of the mirror, knowing he didn't have the ability to decipher it, and allowed himself a single peek into the mirror. Somehow, Harry's reflection had been replaced by those of his parents. They smiled and waved at him; their eyes were clear from the haze of confusion he had learned to convince himself would one day go away.

Gran stood slightly away from them. Her expression was proud, and Neville realised he had managed to find the cure for his parents' insanity.

He tore himself away from the mirror immediately. Gran had always told him that when he was shown his deepest dreams, it meant that he was in the most danger.

If Harry was seeing his own parents in the mirror, Neville could understand the obsession that had lead Harry to the mirror under a Sleeping Potion. Neville would have to stop this. He wouldn't be able to shatter the glass - whoever had put the mirror there would eventually come back looking for it too - so Neville glanced around for something else he could to break Harry's gaze.

A dusty cloth lay on the far side of the room. It could have been a table cloth from the teacher's desk, but it looked big enough to cover the reflecting side of the mirror. Not willing to risk having his magic react unexpectedly due to shakiness, Neville opted to toss the fabric over the mirror himself.

It was a bit short, and a sliver of the bottom of the mirror was still visible, but Neville reckoned it would be enough to snap Harry out of the enchantment temporarily.

"Neville?" Harry yawned, running his hands over the goosebump-covered flesh of his arms and looking around. "What are we doing here?"

"The potion, the potion I gave you. It made, it made you sleepwalk," Neville stuttered. "I followed you, because, because it's my fault. I should have checked, checked the Potion first."

"Oh, don't worry, Neville. You couldn't have known." Harry grinned. Neville thought Harry was taking the entire situation entirely too well. "I think there could have been worse things happening than sleepwalking. At least I didn't grow an extra limb or a tail, or turn green or something. Let's go back to the dormitories before we get caught."

Neville nodded, glad that everything worked out, even if the sky was starting to look slightly brighter and Neville was sure that he was going to be spending the day trying his best not to fall asleep. He cast one more look at the covered mirror before he scurried out of the classroom after Harry, not wanting to be left outside the common room again.

The Golden Snitch [Uagadou, Biloko] – Adopt a Reindeer: Bedtime - write about a sleeping potion gone wrong