1. #1

Somnium Insidiae

He couldn't see her, but he knew she was behind him, because he felt her arms wrapped around his waist and her hiding her face in his back. She was scared. Trying to calm her down, he looked back and murmured something to her. She nodded. She still seemed a little off, but she took a deep breath and held onto him again. In the end, he grabbed on tightly and they started to rise, with jerky movements...

"Harry? Harry, wake up..."

The boy opened his eyes, focusing on his surroundings. With some relief, he remembered everything that had happened that night. He'd fallen asleep on the grass, and he'd had that dream again. Breathing clean air, he forced himself to separate the real world from the dream world. Mostly because that warm body that was resting against his felt very real.

He looked to the side and found his gaze locked with that face that he loved so much. He smiled, whispering "Hey..." and as he moved behind her ear a few rebellious strands of her hair, he asked: "Have you been awake for long?"

She didn't answer immediately, instead giving him a light kiss on the lips first, and then, levering her weight on her elbows on the grass, she continued looking at him with a smile on her face. "Not much. I was really comfortable. I'd say you make a very good pillow, Mr. Potter," she concluded.

Harry put his arms behind his head, looking up. "It's in the job description, miss." When he looked to the sky, he noticed it was darker than usual. "Seems like it's late... what time is it?"

The girl immediately looked to her wristwatch. "Oh, it's past eleven! We have to go back..."

Harry put on a mock-sad expression. "Awww, can't we just stay here a bit more?"

She laughed, amused, but she still looked a little worried. "Really, Harry, it's very late..."

Then he stood up, stretching his waking muscles, and gave her a hand. "You're right," he replied, helping her get up. "I don't want to get the Head Girl in trouble..."

"I absolutely agree," she replied, blushing when he kissed her hand.

While they walked down the corridors of Hogwarts, Harry thought of how wonderful his life was. If someone had told him that morning that he'd have a girlfriend by the afternoon, he wouldn't have believed it. And much less would he have believed that said girlfriend would be the best-looking, smartest girl in the school. Somebody up there must really like him to give him such good luck.

Personally, he had never thought he was attractive enough for a girl as special as she was to take an interest on him. He wasn't tall, or strong, or intelligent... he wasn't even that good with the opposite sex. After all, she was the one who took the initiative in the first place. Of course, there was the whole "Boy-who-lived" thing, but he was completely sure that she wasn't with him because of that. It wasn't his talent for quidditch either, and much less the fact that he was the captain of his team. Really, Harry couldn't see what was so interesting about him.

But even then, he felt like the king of the world.

When they reached the private dormitories of the Head Boy and Girl, she said goodbye and kissed him, reminding him that they'd see each other in the morning, at breakfast. When she finally walked in, and the statue came back to its original position behind her, Harry knew that he was standing there with the goofiest smile on his lips. Anyway, he couldn't help it. With a sigh, he turned around and started walking to the Gryffindor Common Room, praying he wouldn't find Filch or Mrs. Norris on the way back. Why, oh why had he not thought of bringing his invisibility cloak with him?

But he found someone entirely different.

"You're out after curfew, Mr. Potter."

Harry stopped as if a bucket of freezing water had been thrown on him. He slowly turned around. Of all the people who could catch him breaking the rules, it had to be his Defense against the Dark Arts teacher? It would've been better if it had been Snape! At least with him, he'd know what to expect. "I know, sir."

The professor walked around him, serious, with a critical eye. Harry felt as if, instead of being in a School of Wizardry, he were in a Military Academy. "Let's see," the professor began, "to be fair, I think I should ask you the reason you had to break this rule, before I take any points from Gryffindor."

Harry gulped. He wasn't going to tell on his girlfriend on the first day of their relationship, but he couldn't lie. So he was just going to try and not cause much damage. "I was in the gardens with my... girlfriend." The professor's eyebrows rose, but he let him continue. "We fell asleep outside... we didn't realize it was so late. It was my fault, she wanted to come back..."

"Very well, Potter," the professor interrupted him. "Ten points from Gryffindor. Now go back to your Common Room."

Harry nodded and kept on the way he originally planned on taking.

"Harry."

Once again he stopped. The voice was the same, but the tone was different. He turned around again to look at that man standing in the middle of the hallway.

"I was waiting for this moment to come one of these days..." the man continued, blue eyes shining behind his glasses. "I'm proud of you, Son."

Harry smiled. The line between family and profession was rarely walked through on weekdays, much less at that time of the night. "Thanks, Dad."

James Potter also smiled, that gesture so similar to his son's. "She's a good girl, I hope," he threw back, putting his hands inside his pockets.

"Of course," the boy replied. "Cho is a wonderful girl."

And with that, both men continued on their respective ways.

When Harry walked into the Common Room, ready to go up to his room and fall on his bed, he was surprised to see that someone was still awake.

"WHERE have you been?"

Harry rolled his eyes and decided to ignore her, sneaking quickly towards the stairs to the right, but he couldn't make it far because she, swift as an eagle, hung onto his left arm and threatened not to let go of him until he explained.

He had no choice but to stop on the first step. Over his shoulder he looked at her, irritated.

"Gwynn, you're a pest, you know?"

The little girl let go of him as if burnt. Crossing her arms with an annoyed expression, she made a face to let him know that she did not appreciate that comment at all. Harry laughed. In that position, with her blood-red hair straight and disheveled, her baby blue pajamas and her bright blue eyes, she looked as cute as a puppy. The boy knew he wouldn’t be able to resist.

"Ok... what is it?"

The girl's shoulders sagged as if her anger had escaped in a whiff. "Mom noticed you didn't come down to dinner... she sent me to look for you since then! I spent the whole night walking around the castle. I even got lost! Where were you, huh?"

Harry grimaced. He had never imagined that when his little sister came to Hogwarts, her mother would have the perfect spy to find out about anything that happened in his life. And Gwynn had no problem with it, of course!

He sighed. "Don't you have friends to be with, like normal people?" he asked, and the girl again looked at him with one of those killer looks. That didn't stop him, anyways. "I don't have to tell you. Dad already found me, and he took away 10 points. Why should you find out?"

"Harryyyyyyyyy..." she whined, hugging him around his waist (because she couldn't reach his neck). "Teeeellllll meeeeeee..."

The older brother asked himself if he'd ever had that much energy. How could she be so active, if it was past midnight? Prying her little hands off his waist, he continued riling her up. "Listen, Red, I'm not going to tell you. And well, you wouldn't understand anyway. You're just a little girl, you can't know about these things."

In less than two seconds, the girl was four feet away from him, with her hands on her hips and openmouthed, obviously offended. "How dare you?!" she exclaimed, and she couldn't have looked more like Lily Potter if she'd wanted to. "I'm not a little girl. For your information, Professor McGonagall told me this morning that I'm very mature for my age."

Harry laughed even more. "Ok, ok, I'll tell you. But you have to promise me that you won't tell Mum."

Gwynn bit her lower lip. "Well, I could promise, but... you know how Mum is. She always finds out." She shook her head with a tragic expression, as if he were announcing to her brother that he was going to die the next day.

"I know. I'll tell him myself, but not yet." And he hadn't even finished saying that phrase, when Gwynn was already giving him the puppy eyes.

"So?"

Harry had to admit that those eyes were powerful. With a resigned air, he let his little secret come out. "I was with Cho."

Again the girl opened her mouth, but this time in surprise. The suprise quickly became joy, and the exuberant little girl couldn't help jumping around the whole Common Room singing: "I've got a new sister, I've got a new sister!" Harry followed her through the whole room, trying to shut her up, at the same time thinking that he didn't know what he'd done to have such a fun sister... even though he wouldn't admit it out loud.

It was close to half past one in the morning when Harry finally made it to his room. Noticing that his roommates had left the light on, he let his eyes wonder about the
room.

He had always liked that room. The environment was much nicer than that of his room at Godric's Hollow. It was more home-like. Little details here and there... made it... more real, maybe.

The first bed to his left was Dean Thomas'. It was covered in notebooks and drawing parchment, posters of the Manchester United team, and his Prefect's badge was on his night table. Dean, like every night, was asleep on his bed, on his back, and with his arms extended to the sides of his body. The boys always joked about that, telling him he looked more like he was sleeping inside a coffin than on his bed, but Dean couldn't help it, really.

Seamus Finnigan's area was distinguishable from the others because of the green color that covered it. Seamus had a big Irish flag hanging from the bedposts, and there was also the clover glass he had on his night table. Seamus normally slept in weird positions, and this night he was face down, with his pillow over his head. Though when one thought about it, maybe it wasn't that weird. At least the pillow muffled the snoring.

Neville Longbottom's bed, to the back of the room, near the window, was the most normal out of the five. The covers were Hogwarts standard. Over his night table he had a picture of his grandmother and one of his parents on their wedding day. Neville was comfortably asleep on his right side, with one arm beneath his pillow and another one holding his bed sheets.

Then, back towards him, was his own bed. Nothing weird about it, one or two posters of some quidditch team (the national team was really good that year, a lot of people were saying they had great possibilities of winning the World Cup the next year), "Quidditch through the Ages" had fallen to the floor along with his red quidditch robes. Yeah, it was rather messy but Harry jut didn't have enough space, and he had to read all those books... he was the captain, and he had to guide his team to victory.

The last bed, just to his right, was Ron Weasley's, Harry's best friend since his first day at Hogwarts. The bed was even more bright than Seamus', what with his orange covers and his orange flags and his orange posters... Ron was a fan of the Chudley Cannons, and that became pretty obvious when you looked at his stuff. Had anyone ever told him that that color clashed horribly with his hair? Harry half expected to find Ron falling off his bed, like every night, but instead he found him sitting on it, looking straight at him with curious blue eyes.

"So?"

Harry sighed and rushed to lie on his bed. "What, is it 'interrogate Harry' day?"

Ron smiled. "What happened? Teacher trouble?"

"I wish," Harry shot back, remembering to lower his voice so as not to wake the others. "After leaving Cho in her room, Dad found me."

"Ouch," the redhead quipped, cringing like he shared his friend's 'pain.' "Did he give you detention?"

"Nah, he took ten points but he let me go," he explained. "And when I came into the Common Room, Gwynn was there."

"Ugh, don't even tell me," Ron groaned. "That girl is not normal. What, doesn't she sleep?"

It was Harry's turn to laugh. "You're right. I'd never say that a girl who's in love with you is normal, Ron."

Ron threw an orange pillow at his head. "Don't remind me of that!" he exclaimed between his teeth.

"Ok, I won't mention it anymore..." Harry conceded. "I wonder if Mum will tell me anything tomorrow?"

"She probably will," his friend replied, laying back on his bed. "You know how she is."

"I'm kind of scared that she won't like Cho," the boy confessed. "You know how she is with Gwynn and me... I know she doesn't do it on purpose, but I don't want her to get jealous or something."

"Ah," Ron closed his eyes, fixing his pillow to his neck. "Well, you can't do anything about it. Consequence of having your mother in Hogwarts, isn't it? Thank God mine is FAR away... if she were here, I'd already be married to your sister or something like that!"

Now Harry threw the orange pillow back at him. "Don't you dare, Weasley!"

"Nah, don't worry... So, tell me, Potter. You have a girlfriend. How do you feel?"

Harry sighed and Ron rolled his eyes, muttering something about drooling idiots and romance novels. "I'm very happy, Ron," he answered. "You don't know how it feels. It's just that Co is... so wonderful... I don't know. She's almost... perfect."

Ron laughed. "Yeah, I can tell from your face, mate. And well, you take good care of your perfect girl because, who knows? One of these days I might take her away from you..." he added, suggestively.

"Sure, Weasley," he replied. "In your dreams!"

They were going to continue their chat, when Neville interrupted them. "Harry, Ron, could you please go to sleep?" he asked, with a sleepy voice, still laying down.

Both boys rolled their eyes, but, muttering their respective "'nights", they laid down, letting the rest of the room sleep in peace.

Harry stayed awake for a while, thinking about Cho and about everything that had happened that day. What he'd told Ron was true: he felt really happy, maybe happier than ever. He knew that he was very lucky that a girl as beautiful as Cho had taken an interest in him, she wasn't only pretty in that simple form, but she was the smartest (well, she wasn't Head Girl for nothing) and most understanding girl Harry had ever met. And well, maybe she wasn't exactly the perfect girl, but she came very close.

And with that last thought, he fell asleep.

And there she was again. He was holding his broom and getting ready to fly, and she, with her bushy hair floating behind her shoulders, and her brown eyes shining with determination, came between him and his objective. She was saying something, but he wasn't focused but on her face...

---

don't kick me out of portkey yet! everything has a reason, i swear.

hey, y'all! this isn't a new fic, but it is a new translation. the original is already on chapter five, so hopefully it won't take me too long to update this.

before i say anything, i want to thank carlos rodriguez, whose fic "reality" (it's a jonny quest: the real adventures fanfic) gave me the idea for this. thanks for giving me permission to use it, carlos! i hope i can do something good with it.

i know most of you want to strangle me right now. what can i say? mwahaha, suffer! ^_________^ ok, i have to be a good girl. keep on reading, it's not as bad as you think. really.

and lastly, i'd like to apologize for the- surely- AWFUL latin in the title. i'm sure it says something really weird. it's my first try at latin grammar-- i'm sorry if there's an awful mistake ^^;;;; i was told it was pretty similar to spanish, but man, it's hard! #_#

thanks for reading, and i hope that you liked the first part. you'll see some action soon!

2. #2

Somnium Insidiae

He gave her just one look. She was so nervous, so worried, she didn't know what to tell him... but when his bright green eyes focused on her face, she couldn't help but feel moved. He was in front of her, he who carried the fate of the world on his shoulders, looking at her with such an expression, like a little kid lost, searching for his mother. Overcome, she threw her arms around his neck...

Then she felt the sunlight hitting her closed eyelids.

She instinctively turned to her other side, trying to avoid the annoying pack of photons that threatened to wake her from her comfortable dream. Yet, she couldn't avoid the hand that yanked her bed sheets from over her.

"Young lady, if you don't wake up right now, you're going to be late for school."

Hermione opened her eyes reluctantly, and looked at her father, who was standing at the foot of her bed, giving her a smile.

"Can't I sleep just five minutes more? Not even today?"

Mr. Granger shook his head decidedly. "It's already fifteen minutes past your normal waking up hour. And you want to sleep MORE?"

"Ok, ok, I'm up..." she finally gave up.

While she stood up, her father continued talking. "You wouldn't be so sleepy if you hadn't been out so late last night with THE NEIGHBOR... That boy is definitely corrupting you, Hermione."

She rolled her eyes, being used to those comments. It wasn't that her father thought "the neighbor," as he called him, was a bad boy, but he was a father, after all. "He likes you too, Dad..." she retorted, while her father opened his arms to give her a hug.

The man affectionately kissed his daughter on the forehead. "Happy birthday, little one."

"Thanks, Daddy," she replied with a smile. And, getting out of the hug, she looked for her personal necessities, and took her towel and her things to go and take a shower.

She barely had time to pick up her bag from her room, and then she had to run down the stairs to get some breakfast. It was too late, and she couldn't lose anymore time.

She met her mother in the kitchen, as she made her eggs and toast for breakfast. The woman greeted her with a shiny smile. "How did the birthday girl wake up?"

Hermione smiled back and let her book bag fall to the floor (with a big "THUD!", it was so heavy). "Hungry, Mum." She almost didn't let her mother serve her eggs on a plate; she quickly put them inside the bread and started to eat them like a sandwich.

"Hermione Granger, manners!" her mother exclaimed when she saw her.

Hermione answered nothing, instead taking the juice glass her mother had left on the table in her hands to drink it down in one big gulp. "Sorry, Mommy, but I'm running late! I can't ruin my punctuality record!" And picking her book bag up from the floor (with some effort), she kissed her mother on the cheek and ran out to the main door.

She ran past her father, who was walking down the stairs, on her way out. "Honey, want me to give you a ride?" he offered. But Hermione, as she was rushing, simply shook her head.

"Not necessary, Dad. I'm going with Dylan!"

Closing the door behind her, she didn't see her father roll his eyes, or her mother smile amusedly.

She looked carefully to both sides of the street, in case a car was coming. When she was sure it wasn't, she crossed, backpack slung over her shoulder, as quick as she could without tripping. She got to the house that was in front of hers, a very small but cozy two-story house, and rang the doorbell.

A couple of seconds later, a young man opened the door. He was tall, thin, kind of lanky and blond. Fair-skinned, but not pale, just rosy. He had big blue eyes, with a cloud of freckles over his nose that brought out the brilliant ocean color. The boy, seeing her at the door, smiled brilliantly and gazed at her warmly. "Hey," he said, leaning closer to give her a little kiss. Hermione could've sworn he'd blushed. He didn't let her reply, he just went on talking. "Just give me a minute, I gotta wake my Grandmother up and I'll be back with you, ok?" And with that said, he ran back into the house. She could hear the sound of his footsteps as he went up the stairs.

Hermione leaned against the doorway while she waited. She wondered how he could be so active at that time in the morning, when they'd both gone to bed just a couple of hours ago. Dylan was having trouble with chemistry (well, that was usually the case... it was his worst subject), and Hermione volunteered to help him with the last topic, so he could understand it a little better. The only problem was that midnight came before they were done. Mr. Granger hadn't been very happy, but what could Hermione do? Dylan swore up and down that he could only understand when Hermione explained it to him, and well... she couldn't say no.

Dylan was just such a wonderful person that it was hard to deny him of anything. Mostly because he rarely asked for anything. He was the type of person that would keep his problems to himself, so as not to bother anyone else. In all the time she'd known him, Hermione didn't stop telling him that if he needed anything, he shouldn't doubt that he could come to her. She hadn't quite managed to convince him, but at least when it came to schoolwork he was getting better.

They'd met on their last year of elementary school. Their school's football soccer team had passed to the regional championship and it was the main topic of discussion in the neighborhood. Dylan, being the top scorer in the team, was the newest celebrity, of course. And Hermione, in part because she was so curious, and in part because of admiration, since the kid was immensely popular, tried to know all she could about him. One day she literally ran into him while coming out of her house (books flying everywhere) and at that moment she realized that Dylan was, in fact, the boy who had moved the past summer to Mrs. Milliken's, that is, her neighbor's, house. And, moved by her desire to know, as always, she started spouting off and babbling about how she wanted to know if it was true that his parents had died and that's why he'd moved there, as the people in school said.

Obviously the boy hadn't been all that happy. His expression, which up to that point had been almost amused, retracted immediately, and picking the last book off the floor, he continued on his way, leaving Hermione behind by a long distance. She felt a little hurt, and didn't realize her mistake until later. The next day she woke up early to step by Dylan's house before school, to apologize for the way she behaved and especially for being so tactless. He didn't hold any kind of grudge against her, and from that day on they were the best of friends.

It turned out that it was true that Dylan's parents had died in a car accident. His closest blood-relative, then, was his grandmother, and that's why he'd moved in with her. At the beginning everything was going fine, but after some time his grandmother got sick, and now he had to deal with the house and work to sustain them both. It was hard, but he tried not to complain.

During those first weeks of friendship he also confessed to her that he loved football soccer, and that he hoped to play professionally someday. But even so, not everything was happy for him, because most of the people in the neighborhood only liked him because he was good at sports, and not for what he really was. That was the reason why he had no real friends, even if he was so popular. Hermione could immediately relate, because she had felt how fake the other kids at school could be; in her case, a lot of them only talked to her when they needed help in a class, but in any other moment, they made fun of her for being a know-it-all and for having buck teeth. She knew it didn't feel good. Maybe it was their mutual misery that made them be so close... or maybe they were just made to be friends.

Four years later, she had gotten her teeth reduced and he had been made captain of his team. And the day he told her he felt for her just what she had felt for him the whole time was one of the happiest days of her life. So now they were together. For almost five months, officially.

The sound of jiggling keys got her out of her thoughts. It was Dylan, walking back down the stairs. "Done, we can go now," he told her, and she stepped aside to let him close the door. Shouldering his backpack (which was considerably less heavy than Hermione's), he took her hand and they started walking towards the school.

"Happy birthday," he told her, kissing her hand lightly. She thanked him. "I'm sorry I haven't gotten you a gift yet," he continued. She was going to reply telling him that it wasn't necessary that he got her anything, but he didn't let her. "But I was thinking that maybe we could go get some ice cream this afternoon, and then step by the bookstore so you can choose something you like."

Hermione looked suspiciously at him. How could he do that on a weekday? On the other hand, books were her weak spot... "Go out, today? Don't you have to work in the afternoon?"

"Oh, don't worry. My boss gave me the day off."

She bit her bottom lip, wondering if she should accept or not. Her dad wouldn't agree with her going out with Dylan so soon ("But you're together the whole day at school... don't you ever get tired of seeing each other's faces? You'd only see each other more if you lived together or something..."), but since the only thing they did together lately was study, it'd be okay. Or at least she hoped so. "Ah... ok. Anyway, there's a book about the use of microscopy in the study of protozoan evolution that I'm dying to read!" she finished, excited as only a good book could get her.

Dylan laughed, freckles jumping, and put an arm around his girlfriend's shoulders. Hermione also laughed. Sometimes she was too predictable, but she couldn't help it. And anyway, that afternoon was sure to be perfect.

Last class of the day: Chemistry. Likely to bring anyone's mood down, except Hermione Granger's. She was taking notes of everything the professor said, because according to the chronogram they had a text coming next week and she couldn't afford to miss any details. Dylan, on the other hand, was looking outside with a frown and a 'free me from this hell' expression.

Luckily for him, a couple of minutes later the bell that marked the end of classes rang. The students went out of the classroom quickly, before the professor could assign any homework. Dylan waited for Hermione to pick up her books so they could walk out together, but just as they were leaving, the professor stopped them.

"Miss Granger, may I have a word with you?"

Hermione told Dylan to wait for her at the door, and turned to talk to the professor. "Yes, sir?"

The man, quite an old man actually, gave her a smile. "I just wanted to tell you that the School Council approved your petition, and so you will be moved up to AP Analytic Chemistry class. Congratulations."

Hermione's eyes opened wide, as if she couldn't believe what the professor was telling her. "Really? Oh, I... thanks, Professor! Thank you so much! Wow, this is too much..."

Dylan, who was observing her from the door, couldn't help but laugh. Hermione was acting like a cartoon character... the kind that grabs a person's hand and wouldn't stop shaking it, babbling about the same stuff over and over at the same time. She was just too funny.

Dylan's laughter brought Hermione down from the clouds. Still with a big smile on her lips, she turned to him. "Did you hear that?"

"It seems like we have another reason to celebrate," he concluded, opening his arms. Hermione ran towards him, and they gave a few spins around in the hallway, adding a few excited expressions here and there. In the end, they stumbled on their own feet and Dylan ended up against the wall, with Hermione in front of him.

"It's unbelievable," Hermione muttered, leaning her head on Dylan's chest.

"Why? You're the smartest girl in the school. Don't tell me you actually thought your petition was going to be rejected?" he asked, playing with a brown lock of her hair. She smiled. "I bet this will look really good on your resume. You'll be able to get into any college you want!"

She looked up. With all reason, Dylan should feel a little depressed because if she switched to AP classes, she wouldn't be able to help him with whatever problems he had with the subject. But even so, he was so wonderful that he hadn't even thought about that; on the other hand, he had been as happy as if it had been him. How could she not love someone like that?

"I love you, Dylan," she murmured, hugging him tightly.

"And I love you," he replied, gazing intensely at her and lowering his head to kiss her.

So wrapped were they in each other that they didn't even notice when the professor came out of the classroom, locking the door behind him. "Yes, everything's fantastic, miss Granger, but for some reason I don't think the Council would be too happy to find you two like this."

Both teenagers sprung apart as if someone had dropped a glassful of ice-cold water on them. Dylan was a little red, but Hermione had so much blood stuck in her cheeks, she looked like a ruby. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Mr. Jeevers, it won't happen again, I swear..."

"Don't make promises you won't keep, miss Granger," the professor shot back, something of a smirk on his face. "Simply try to be less obvious the next time."

The man walked out immediately. Hermione stood there, doubting if she should repeatedly hit her head against the wall or just stare fixedly to the floor, waiting for it to swallow her. "Oh my gaaaaawwwwd, Dylan, I just embarrassed myself in front of a professor! Oh, this is horrible..."

Dylan, who was feeling pretty uncomfortable himself, went for the simplest option. "Look, let's just forget about this, ok? Let's just go to the mall, and pretend nothing happened."

Hermione wasn't really convinced, her eyes were moist and she was desperately hoping that what happened wouldn't influence in anyway her new promotion to AP Chemistry class. But even so, she let herself be guided by Dylan to the exterior of the school.

It was close to 11 at night when Hermione entered her house, being careful to walk silently so she wouldn't wake her parents up. She walked up the stairs in her way to her room, but halfway through she noticed that her parents' room door was half open. She randomly wondered if her parents were still awake. But, knowing her father and his jealousy about Dylan, they probably were. Kind of amused, she decided to spy on them for a moment.

"Gerald."

"Hmmmm?"

"Sleep. Now."

"I'm going to wait a little more, Helena. I want to be sure that she gets home safe and sound."

"You're exaggerating. She's with Dylan, nothing's going to happen to her."

"That's what I'm worried about."

"Oh, listen to yourself! You're acting like you'd never been a teenager!"

"It's precisely because I was that I'm worried."

"Come on... you know that Dylan is an excellent kid, and that's why you don't like him."

"I know... it's just that..."

"Don't be such a crybaby. Look, just a while ago I thought I heard the door. Hermione must be home already. Why don't you go to sleep? You know your patients really worked you up today..."

"Ah... okay. You're right, I am very tired. Why don't you give me a back rub? I'm sure that'll make me feel better..."

Hermione knew that was the appropriate moment to go to her room (with parents like that, it was a miracle that she was still an only child...). She wasn't worried about her father's reaction anymore. She knew he felt a little jealous that she was spending most of her time with Dylan, but deep down the blond boy had known how to gain her father's trust. Feeling happy, she turned around in silence, going her way down the walkway, without noticing that her parents' door closed behind her.

Changing into her bedclothes, she laid on the bed, thinking about her day. Dylan had taken it upon himself to give her a birthday as she'd never had. It was one of the best she'd ever had, she could admit that freely. Sixteen perfect years. She was completely happy; she had everything. Academic excellency, luck, the love of her life, her family... she didn't wish for anything else.

Smiling, she closed her eyes. She was so happy that she was surely going to dream about Dylan.

But she didn't.

On the other hand, the face that appeared in her dreams was that of that mysterious boy with green eyes, lightly sliding from side to side in front of her. The wind blew on his black hair and messed it up, giving him a semi-ethereal appearance. It almost seemed like he was flying...

author's notes!

ok, second chapter. truth is, i admit, i have problems with this... i don't like it #_# it's awful. no depth. next time i hear the name "gary stu" i will shoot myself. anyway, that's the way i feel.

it doesn't have much action, but it's coming. i know you guys don't understand anything yet (if you wanted to kill me for the cho thing, i can only imagine you guys now that hermione's with dylan ~_~), but i swear everything has a reason. you'll see how things start shaping up soon. maybe there will be something in the next chapter.

i want to thank carlos rodriguez again for letting me use the basic idea of his fanfic. and also, this hasn't been beta-ed, so any grammar/plot mistakes are entirely my fault.

3. #3

Somnium Insidiae
by cali-chan.

When he saw her fall to the floor, he felt the air escape out of his lungs. With a terrified scream he ran to her, kneeling beside her and praying to every god that could help him that she'd be ok. If something happened to her, he wouldn't ever forgive himself. It was his fault that they were there, his fault that they'd been attacked, and his fault that she might be... But no. She wasn't dead. She COULDN'T be dead...

Then the lack of air forced him to wake up.

When he opened his eyes, he found that there was a pillow covering his face and that Ron was somewhere in the room laughing madly. Frowning, he threw the pillow at him, even if it was mostly possible that he hadn't hit him, because his vision was, as it was every morning, completely blurred.

Stretching his hand towards the bedside table, he grabbed his glasses and put them on. "Shut up," he told Ron, who was sitting on his bed, wearing green boxers and a white shirt, and had only one sock on.

"You sure were hugging that pillow tight, Hary," he said, putting on the other sock at last. "I'm sure you and Cho were having a great time there inside your head."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Ha, ha. You think you're so funny," he comented, leaving his sheets to the side and sitting sideways on the bed, with his feet on the floor. "In fact, it's pretty weird. Cho wasn't in my dream. Quite the opposite, there was this girl..."

Ron looked at him curiously, arching one brow. "This girl? What girl? Do I know her?"

Harry shook his head, still frowning. "No. I don't even know who she is myself. But she's been in my dreams since some time ago..."

Ron stood up, walking to his trunk to get his clothes out. "That's weird, Hary. You're dating the prettiest girl at Hogwarts, and here you are, dreaming about an imaginary girl." Choosing a pair of black pants, he turned towards Harry again. "Tell me, this girl X... does she at least look good?"

Harry was doubtful when he answered. "Actually she's nothing spectacular... From what I remember, she has brown hair, kind of frizzy, coffee or honey-colored eyes, not too tall..."

"From the neck down, man!" the redhead exclaimed; he obviously hadn't been thrilled with the description he'd been given.

"I wouldn't know what to tell you," Harry answered, shrugging. "The dreams don't focus all that much on that aspect."

"Then don't make a big deal out of them," Ron replied, as if it were the most logical thing in the world, while he looked for a shirt to go with his black pants. "Just worry about the asian bombshell that's waiting for you outside in the corridor."

"You're right," Harry admitted, standing up too, to get dressed.

He really didn't know why he cared so much about those stupid dreams... He had never believed in Divination. All those things were a fake. Dreams were random images, it wasn't as if his subconscious was telling him something. The "girl X", as Ron dubbed her, didn't exist. He shouldn't be affected by her. He was happy with his life as it was. He didn't have to worry about silly stuff like that.

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. Before any of the two boys could approve, a little red head peeked in. "Harry, I gotta tell you that..." she started, and when she noticed the second person present on the room, her eyes got wide open. "Ron!" she exclaimed, and ran up to the tall boy, without even closing the door behind her. "Hello! I hadn't seen you since... uh, since yesterday!"

"Gwynn! You can't just barge into our room like that!" Harry exclaimed, glaring at the girl, a little annoyed. She didn't mind him for a minute, so focused as she was with the Weasley's youngest boy. Ron, by the way, had already spent some seconds looking at Harry with the international, standard "save me, best friend" expression.

"Um, green looks really good on you," she continued, blushing a little. "But then, any color looks good on you..."

*She's obviously never seen him wearing one of his Chudley Cannons t-shirts...* Harry thought, very amused. "Gwynn, what do you want?" he tried to stop her again, but she continued talking as if he'd never spoken.

"You know, Mum is planning a family outing to Hogsmeade this afternoon, and I was wondering if you'd like to come with us, you know, since you're almost part of the family. Well, not really family, no, it's not as if you're my brother or anything. It's just that, you know, you're important to me- to US, and since Mum and Dad are going to be busy with Harry, maybe you and I could hang out meanwhile..."

At the moment, Ron was already covered in cold sweat. The girl had taken a hold of his arm and that did NOT make him feel comfortable at all. "Uh... Gwynn, listen-"

"Family outing?" Harry interrupted them, feeling somewhat threatened. That wouldn't be a plan of his mother's to find out about the Cho thing, would it? "What family outing?"

"I'm not talking to you," Gwynn muttered, giving him one of those lethal glares. A second later, she was back to looking at Ron with the most innocent gaze possible. "Anyway, I thought maybe we could go to Zonko's, because, you know, I really want to go, but my parents won't let me go alone, they say I might get in trouble with those jokes. And I know that you really like them, so..."

"GWYNN. For goddsake, can you simply tell us what you came to tell us and leave?" Harry exclaimed, standing between her and Ron, to see if he could stop the little babblemouth for once.

The girl frowned. Even though it had no effect, because on her a frown didn't look threatening, but somewhat cute. "Mum says to hurry and go down to have breakfast, because she has to talk to you." Craning her neck to look behind her brother, she gave Ron a bright smile. "Bye, Ron! See you this afternoon!" and with that, she left the room, a skip in her step.

Ron fell on his bed and covered his face with his hands. "I can't take this anymore. I can't take it, I can't, I can't..." he murmured to himself, but Harry could hear him. He thought about saying something, but he was more worried about his mother's plans this afternoon. And above that, his strange dreams. He knew he shouldn't be thinking about that, but he couldn't help it.

Harry decided when coming down from the Tower that it would be best not to say hi to Cho that morning. He was risking her getting mad at him, but he didn't want anybody (that is, his mother) seeing them being affectionate in the middle of the Great Hall. At least not until the news of their dating were of public knowledge.

At that moment he was sitting in his usual seat, moving his breakfast around his plate, without paying much attention to what was happening around him. In front of him, Ron and Ginny were discussing about her skirt being so short that "I can't see why you bother putting it on" and that Ron was too much of an overprotective brother who had to learn to "keep you nose out of stuff that aren't any of your business," and they kept trying to bring Harry in onto the conversation, but Harry wasn't in the mood. He had other stuff to talk about...

The first thing that came to his mind was that she had to be dead. He had seen her on the floor, pale and still. And when he woke up, he felt so empty that it was hard to doubt that something that big had really happened. After that, he'd try to convince himself that it couldn't be. In his dreams she looked so real, so full of life, that she couldn't have died just like that. And lastly, he'd get angry at himself for thinking about it. She was just a dream, she didn't exist, and as such she couldn't be alive or dead. He couldn't lose his time thinking about those things. His thoughts were a vicious cycle that repeated itself all throughout breakfast.

He was about to give up on his muffins, when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Good morning, Harry."

Harry turned towards the sound, to find his mother looking at him with a smile and a suspicious gleam in her eyes. "Uh, hi, Mum. Did you want to talk to me?" Harry noticed that Gwynn peeked out from behind his mother's waist, with her eyes wide open, furiously shaking her head while pointing at herself.

"Oh, yes. I wanted to tell you that we're going out tonight. We'll go to Hogsmeade and have dinner as a family. What do you think?"

"Um, just great, Mum," he replied, feeling that all the eyes in the room were on them and their conversation. "Just don't let it be too early. I have to finish my Transfiguration and begin working on my Potions essay..."

"Oh, don't worry about that, honey," she replied, smiling even more. "You have time. Besides, you have to go invite your girlfriend-- Cho, is it?"

At hearing that question, Harry looked so much like a deer caught in the headlights of a truck that his mother couldn't help but start laughing. Behind her, Gwynn shook her head even more frantically. Lily, seeing her kids' expressions, continued speaking. "You shouldn't be so surprised, Harry. I sleep in the same bed as your father, after all."

With that, Gwynn sighed, relieved, and decided that she could get away without being accused of anything. Harry tried to say something without stuttering. "Er, Mum, look, I can explain..."

"Don't worry, Harry," she interrupted him, smiling sweetly at him as she ruffled his hair. "It was going to happen someday, right? I'm sure she's a wonderful girl. I just want to get to know her better, really. I have to welcome her into the family..." she said with a wink. Harry blushed. "Don't forget to invite her, ok?" she continued and with a last smile she bid him (and his friends who had witnessed all of it) goodbye, and turned around to go up to the teachers' table.

Harry looked at Ron, somewhat disconcerted. "Well, that went better than I expected."

The sixth-year Gryffindors were in the Common Roon, bending over tables, thrown on the floor or lying face-up on the couches while working on a certain Transfiguration project that was worth 30% of their final grade. Professor McGonagall had been reminding them for a month that they were supposed to finish by that monday, but of course they had waited until two days before to start working on it. They had a long way to go, no doubt.

"Does anybody have the list of the problems one might find when transfiguring caterpillars into inanimate objects?" Dean asked, looking around at his classmates' faces for an answer.

"I think I have them..." Harry said, going through the stack of papers that was on the table to see if they could find him. "McGonagall explained it last thursday..."

"Oh!" Parvati exclaimed, just remembering something. "That's true, Harry... I have your class notes, remember? You lent them to me yesterday and I forgot to give them back. They should be in my room..."

"Ah, don't worry, I'll get them," he replied, standing up. "Where are they?"

"In my bag, next to my bed," Parvati answered, looking back down to the book she was reading.

"Ok," Harry said, and walked bristly to the stairs leading to the girls' dormitory. He checked twice to make sure that he was entering the right room and opened the door, looking around to find the bag. It wasn't too hard. Even given the fact that Lavender and Parvati were the ones who slept there, the room wasn't as crowded as he would have expected. It was actually very spacious, and maybe because it was a girls' dorm room, it was clean and tidy.

Not wanting to lose more time, he picked up a green-colored bag from the floor, which he assumed was Parvati's, and looked inside until he found his Transfiguration notes. When he had them in his hand, he left the bag on its original place and rushed out of the room, but when he passed through the doorway, something made him stop.

Spacious...?

Again he looked around the room, stopping on each of the two beds, one on each side of the room. Everything was in place: clothes, books, personal objects, school stuff... Everything was there. Like in every student dorm room, everything they needed to spend those nine months in Hogwarts was there. There was no reason for anything to be missing.

Then why did he feel the room was so... empty?

Harry shook his head to get that idea out of his mind. That was ridiculous. He was thinking too much. It was probably just stress, due to all the projects and that night's dinner out. Yes, that must be it. He'd be better off relaxing and staying calm.

By the time three in the afternoon ticked by, Harry was convinced that he was never going to be able to concentrate. He rested his head on the table and stayed that way for a few minutes; even Lavender and Parvati started wondering why he looked so tired. Seamus and Dean wondered if having a girlfriend fried a guy's brain cells. Only Ron had the idea that maybe Harry wasn't thinking about Cho.

And his suspicions couldn't be more correct. In his mind there was no Transfiguration, no Potions and no girlfriend. He couldn't stop thinking about the girl in his dreams, about the strange sensation that he felt when he left Lavender and Parvati's room... and that somehow, he felt the two were related. But he didn't know how, because he couldn't even remember all that much about the dreams. The only thing he was sure of was that the bushy-haired girl was always in them.

At the same moment Harry lifted his head up, Neville walked through the portrait hole looking for him.

"Hey, Harry! Cho's waiting for you outside," he informed him. Harry nodded, standing up to go looking for her. His housmates whistled and laughed at him, but he didn't mind them.

Just as he walked out of the Tower, he found her. She was standing on the other side of the hallway, leaning against the wall, hands behind her back. "Hey," she greeted him, hugging him and kissing him. "Are you studying?"

"Yeah," he replied, taking her hand and guiding her outside for a little more privacy. "But it's ok that you came here, I was going to go looking for him in a while anyway."

She smiled at him, while they walked down the hallways towards the Main Gates. "It's just that you didn't talk to me during breakfast..." she pouted. "I missed you."

"Ah, hehe, that..." Harry took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. He looked really tired. "I'm sorry. It's just that I haven't told my Mum, and I didn't want her to find out like that."

"Don't worry, I know how that feels," she said, softly passing a hand through her hair. At last they made it outside and, arm in arm, they walked slowly through the gardens. "Did you tell her?"

"Actually, my Dad told her. She took it really well, better than I expected. In fact, that's why I was looking for you. We're having dinner tonight in Hogsmeade and she asked me to invite you. She said she wants to get to know you better."

"That's great!" she exclaimed, happy. "We're going to have so much fun, you'll see."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," he replied, looking sideways at her. It was one of the eternal teenage fears that the parents were to embarass them in front of their girlfriends. "You know them as teachers, but as normal people, I guarantee you, they can be pretty weird."

"Oh, come on, Harry. How bad can it be? You love them anyway, right? Everything's gonna be fine, I'm sure you're just nervous," she assured him, always looking at the positive side of the issue. She was really glad to be meeting Harry's parents, she knew they were really important to him, and she couldn't think of anything better than having the opportunity to get to know the most important people in her boyfriend's life.

"Yeah, maybe that's it. Well, now I gotta go back to the Tower, to finish my Transfiguration project..." he started, feeling somewhat guilty. He had ignored her that morning, then he'd been so negative, and now he had to go so soon. He wouldn't win the best boyfriend of the year award, that was for sure. And they had only been dating for one day.

"Oh. I was hoping we could be together for a longer while..." she sighed, biting her lip. "But oh well! Studying comes first. We'll see eachother tonight. What time do I have to be ready?" she asked, an excited gleam in her eyes.

"Um, I'd say around seven," he answered, when they made it back to the Main Gate.

"Ok. I'll see you later, then," she said, and kissed him goodbye. With that, each took their own way, Cho on her way to her room and Harry back to the world of Transfiguration.

At about six, Harry excused himself to go change. He wanted to be ready early, so he could go pick Cho up and not make his parents wait too much. He spent a couple of minutes deciding what to wear. He normally wouldn't have cared about that, but it was his first real date with Cho and even if they had chaperones, he wanted to look good.

It only took him a little while to find what to wear. He quickly left aside every article of clothing that his mother had bought for him, and somewhere in the few robes that he had left after the scrutiny, he found a dark blue one that he thought he'd look good on, so he decided on that one. Black slacks and a white button-down shirt followed, and in a moment he was fully dressed.

Time to tackle the hair.

THAT took him fifteen more minutes.

As of now, he'd managed to make his black locks lie still. Not perfectly, but it was on its way. The only problem is that he was getting fed up with the sarcastic remarks the mirror threw at him (Harry had been pleading for years to his roommates to throw out that mirror, but Seamus had threatened them all with a slow death if any of them touched his personal "ego feeder". Of course he would, since he was the only one out of them all that the mirror treated nicely... If it weren't an "inanimate" object, anyone'd say it was in love with the young irishman), so he decided to just leave like he was.

But with one last look at his reflection, he realized that he'd left his room in a deplorable state. His books were thrown all over the floor, covered, of course, by the dozens of robes that he'd discarded when dressing. It was definitely colorful, but he was sure someone would trip on something when walking sleepily towards a good rest after the day's hard work.

He quickly went on to pick everything up, leaving the clothes in their place and putting the books on his bed. He was just to turn around to walk out of the room when one of the books, apparently put on an awkward angle, fell to the floor with a light blunt sound. Harry picked it up, eyeing it for a second. It was the "Hogwarts, A History" copy that he'd borrowed from his sister the day before to work on his Potions essay.

Focusing on the book for some reason, he made his way past the cover and looked at the "Gwynn R. Potter" that was written with blue ink on its first page, under the title.

Suddenly it seemed like something was out of place. Something that had to do with that book.

And the girls' dorm room.

It was ridiculous, and he knew it, but he couldn't help his legs taking him downstairs, across the Common Room, up more stairs and inside Lavender and Parvati's room without authorization. He wasn't even worried about the fact that his classmates, who were down in the Common Room, must've seen him and followed him to find out why he was running that way. He didn't even care that his parents and Cho must've been waiting for him at the Main Gate right then.

Before he could realize what he was doing, he had started to move the furniture. Parvati's bed was moved a little towards the right, close to the door, while Lavender's trunk took the space at the foot of the bed. The night table that was between the beds ended up to one side, and Harry put on it a couple of books taken out of Parvati's bag. He arranged the pillows differently. And finally, he put Gwynn's book over the bedspread. Agitated, he turned his back on the rest of the room and just focused on the corner that he'd just rearranged.

He could almost see her sitting there. Not Lavender, nor Parvati. But the bushy-haired girl that appeared in his dreams.

"I'm going crazy!" he told himself. He'd been in that school for six years and he was completely sure that Lavender and Parvati had never, NEVER, had a third roommate. How could he, then, remember clearly the way Hermione's bed was arranged?

And then his thoughts froze.

He knew her name.

Hermione. Hermione Granger.

author's notes--

well then, stuff starts getting weird. next time we're back to hermione and her sweetheart and THEIR weird stuff.

this was written pre-ootp so please just ignore the fact that harry just waltzed into the girls' dorm room as if it were his. i tried to come up with an explanation, but somehow they just sounded lame. so i figured it'd be better to just go on as planned.

this chapter hasn't been beta-ed or even spellchecked (suddenly my microsoft word does not have auto-correction for some reason) so forgive me for any typos you may find. and please review! i do my best to answer to every review i get. hopefully you're liking my fic.

4. #4

Somnium Insidiae
by cali-chan.

She felt her heart stop as she saw him walk out onto the rocky grounds. He looked so small, so insignificant compared to that gigantic monster that was attacking him, the wind playing with his dark hair... she couldn't help but feel nervous. She knew he would make it, but at what price? And she couldn't do anythng to help him at that moment, she could only watch. After seeing him move from one side to the other, as fast and agile as an eagle, she finally covered her face with her hands, thinking that it was too much to ask herself to watch all of that without worrying. She had already decided to go down to the grounds when the sound of ecstatic screaming and people's applause made her turn and look again; and immediately her heart started beating again. He was alive! He was okay! And he had made it! Euphoria welled up inside her and she felt herself smile...

And above the noise, her alarm clock rang.

Hermione open her eyes, still a little sleepy, and looking into the big red digital display, she asked herself why she'd programmed her alarm clock to wake her up at such an ungodly hour. It only took her a couple of seconds to rememner: her school was taking her and some others students from her class to a field trip down to a new, international-level water treatment plant that had been recently installed down south, in Surrey. Hermione, thinking that it would be perfect as an extra-credit assignment to make her way easier towards the advenced analytical chemistry class, had run to write her name and Dylan's on the list.

Hermione had been excited the whole week. Sice she was always willing to learn new things, it was the perfect cultural experience for her. Dylan was not as excited, obviously, but he'd kept his mouth shut for her, without complaints, acting like he couldn't wait for the field trip. But no matter, the fact was that they were going to spend the whole weekend together. It wasn't a stretch of the imagination to think that Mr. Granger wasn't very happy about that...

Always thinking ahead, she'd fixed her bags the previous night. Knowing that Dylan would wait until the last minute to do so, she took her time getting ready.

When she went down for breakfast, she decided to take a couple of analytical chemistry that she'd bought the previous day with her; it was always good to be prepared before a class, she thought, and this wasn't the exception. Her mother, who was standing by the stove, making pancakes, smiled at her as she sat down, the book open beside her.

�Good morning, Hermione. Ready for the trip?�

Hermione nodded, reminding her that she'd been waiting for this day to arrive for a while. Mrs. Granger served the pancakes on a plate and both fell into a comfortable silence as they ate. Mr. Granger wasn't around, presumably taking a bath to get to their practice early.

The quiet gave Hermione the opportunity to let go of the academics for a while and meditate about her strange dreams. She felt very weird about it... The images didn't seem to have any type of continuity, they came with different locations and situations each time, unrelated...

Except for the green-eyed boy.

He was a constant in all of them. Each night since the dreams began, he had made his appearance in her subconscious, confusing her more each time. She was almost a hundred percent sure that the boy in question didn't exist. She could almost swear by it without a doubt, because of all the fantasy she found in the dreams. For example, that very night she had seen him fighting some kind of monster... something that was completely impossible in reality...

On the other hand there was also the strange connection she felt with the young man. Was that possible? To feel worry, respect, even care about an imaginary individual? She couldn't help but feel that maybe if she looked for him she would find him, somewhere...

�Honey, are you okay?�

Hermione jumped when he heard her mother's voice again. Trying to appear normal, she tried to make it look like she'd been completely focused on her reading. "Of course, Mum. Why do you ask?"

�You've been reading the same page... I'd say the same line... for the last five minutes.�

�Oops,� she muttered under her breath. Well, there wasn't any time for a back-up plan. Taking between her hands a cup of hot cocoa that she could've sworn wasn't there a minute ago, she sighed. "Mum... I think I'm going crazy.�

Mrs. Granger, who had never heard such a phrase come out of her daughter's mouth, arched a brow, curious. "Crazy? Why do you say that?"

�I've been having... these dreams...�

Her spirit of a woman of science came up immediately in the woman. "What kind of dreams?"

�I wouldn't really know how to explain them," the girl began, leaving her cup on the table after taking a sip of cocoa. "They're always different, and I can't really remember the details in the mornings... the only common factor is... well, there's this boy," she finished, blushing a little.

�A boy? Not Dylan?" she asked, somewhat surprised. It had taker her daughter long enough to get her face out of the books long enough to notice Dylan, and suddenly she wasn't thinking of one, but two boys. "Do I know him? Who is he?"

Hermione frowned, leaning her arms on the table. "That's the problem, Mum. I don't even know who he is."

"Are you sure?" Mrs. Granger asked, finally turning off the stove and sitting at the table with her daughter. "Maybe you met him at one point, but you can't remember him..."

"I don't think so, Mum," she replied, shaking her head. "You know my memory is almost eidetic..."

The woman nodded with a sigh. "You're right..." she leaned back as she crossed her arms, deep in thought. "And how long have you been having these dreams, Hermione?"

The girl mimicked her mother's posture unconsciously. "Uh... I don't know... a month, maybe more..."

Mrs. Granger frowned, thinking hard. She still felt skeptical, but it was too much of a coincidence that such a pattern could occur in someone's dreams. She'd only heard about such a thing when people had recurring nightmares about their deepest fears that were supressed by their subsonscious... but her daughter didn't seem to be afraid, and she had no idea who this person was... "I'll tell you something, sweetheart," she proposed, her weight on her elbows on the table in a business-like posture. "If these dreams keep popping up, I can take you to get professional help..."

Hermione bit her lip, unsure. Would she feel comfortable talking about this with a psychologist? She opened her mouth to reply to her mother that she'd wait a while and then see if she decided on going or not, when the doorbell rang.

"Oh, that must be Dylan!" she exclaimed, picking up her stuff from the table and standing up. She hurried to the door with her book under her arm, and she found the blond boy peeking inside.

"How did you get in?" she asked him.

He shrugged. "Door was open."

Hermione frowned, but Dylan didn't give her time to think of an explanation because he wished her a good day with a kiss. "I won't even ask if you're ready, because I know you are. Shall we go?"

"One moment! Stop the carriage!" Hermione's father was coming down the stairs, ready to say goodbye to his daughter. Her mother walked out of the kitchen with the same idea, carrying the bag that contained the girl's books. With some effort she passed it to her and Hermione put it beside the bag that contained her clothes.

"I'll see you sunday," she said, kissing her daughter's forehead. "You too, Dylan. Have fun."

"If you have any problems, just call," her father told her. And with that he turned to the boy, throwing him a threatening glare. "And you better not try anything... funny. Understood?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Dad, it's like you don't know me at all. Dylan and I have been sleeping under the same roof for the last six years and we've never..." She cut herself off when she noticed that everybody was looking at her weird. "What? Did I say something wrong?"

"Uhhh... Hermione... you and I have NEVER slept under the same roof," Dylan reminded her, emphasizing the word never to reassure Mr. Granger, who looked more intimidating by the second.

"I know... Did I say that?" Hermione blinked in confusion. "I meant to say that we've lived close to each other for the last six years. My tongue must've had a lapse." Her father didn't seem very relieved anyway. Hermione looked at her watch. "It's late. We'd better go, if we don't want to miss the bus." Dylan nodded and they left for school after just a little more words of farewell.

It was getting dark when the group made it back from the treatment plant. Just as she'd thought that morning, it wasn't a very big group; barely six people besides her and Dylan, and two professors acting as chaperones. As they walked down the main avenue to reach the bus they'd hired for transportation, professor Jeevers asked them questions to make sure they'd paid attention.

Hermione and Dylan had lagged to the back of the line, holding hands and walking in silence. Normally Hermione would be the first one to raise her hand to answer any questions, but that day she was strangely introverted.

"...And I hope that at least one of you can remember the name of the chemical that is used to precipitate certain metals the water can contain and the effects this substance has on the human body..."

Hermione stopped at the corner of the street, looking back to where the treatment plant was. There was something weird about that place. Crossing her arms, she tried to analyze it. It was strange that an institution such as that one was surrounded by so much... vegetation. And the residential area was in the vicinity, maybe too close to the plant. Surely that was very risky. There were laws against such cases.

When she was looking at the forest around the plant, something caught her attention. There was an owl flying between the branches. This wasn't really odd, because it was nightfall and the animals were coming out of their hiding places. No, this owl was special in a completely different way. It was its feathers: they were as white as snow.

It was beautiful.

Especially when it stood on a medium-height branch and locked its amber-colored eyes towards the front.

Hermione was startled. The owl seemed to be looking straight at her. Was that possible? She had to be hallucinating. She could almost swear it was trying to communicate with her... but that couldn't be...

"...Miss Granger? Miss Granger!"

When she turned to look at the group, she realized everybody was staring at her: her professors were somewhat mad, Dylan looked worried and her classmates were quite surprised (after all-- Hermione Granger distracted when she was being asked a question? It was doomsday, surely!). Blushing from the embarassment she tried to reply something, whatever: "I'm sorry, Mr. Jeevers, I was just..."

"I know what you were doing, Miss Granger," the professor cut her off. "And since the landscape seems more interesting to you than my questions, maybe you should demonstrate how much you learned on this trip by writing a report about the speech you were given at the plant." Hermione was going to nod when the professor turned to look at all the students with narrowed eyes. "You know what? Everybody will write that report. I want them on my desk, first hour on monday. And you know to thank Miss Granger." And with that he kept walking towards the spot where their bus was parked.

The students groaned loudly, and some of them even glared at Hermione before stalking off behind the two professors. She was left behind, feeling guilty and completely stupid for having been distracted in that way, and by such a silly thing.

Dylan came up to her rolling his eyes, and put an arm around her shoulders. "I'm sorry," she told him, biting her lower lip. "I don't even know what I was looking at on that side..."

"Hey, don't take it to heart," he told her, smiling, even though Hermione knew he didn't like the idea of doing extra homework at all. "Jeevers is a ridiculous old fart... he was just looking for an excuse to make us write the report anyway."

"I'm sorry that I was that excuse," she commented, disappointed.

"Look, don't worry about it," he assured her. "Now let's go back to the hotel, let's rest as much as we can and we'll go down to the library tomorrow after we get back to work on the report together, okay?"

Hermione sighed dejectedly. "Okay." The idea sounded good. Since the moment her strange dreams started, her mind had been acting abnormally. The whole thing with that owl only reinforced her idea that there was something wrong going on with her. Maybe she'd take her mother's offer and visit a psychologist... But anyway, what she needed now was a good rest.

After a rather early dinner, the boys decided to play some soccer in the hotel patio to waste some time before going to bed. Hermione and a classmate, the only two girls in the group, were sitting to the side watching everything and clapping accordingly. Of course, Hermione wasn't paying as much attention as she should; her gaze was lost somewhere behind their two chaperones, who were drinking tea to the side, and she was contemplating what happend a few hours previous.

Dylan found her in that state when they decided to take a break from the match a couple of minutes after.

"Hermione, are you okay? You look tired."

Hermione closed her eyes trying to get out of her head images of white owls and green-eyed boys. "Yes, maybe I am."

Dylan, now somewhat worried, sat beside her, frowning. "Do you want me to take you upstairs? The match can wait."

She tried to tell him it wasn't necessary, that she was okay, just sleepy, but he didn't drop the offer. After telling their chaperones that Hermione wasn't feeling good and that he was going to take her to the girls' room (and receiving a sharp "I want you back here in 5 minutes, young man" in reply), both proceded to walk up the stairs to the third floor, where they were staying.

"Okay, here we are. Are you sure you're not sick or anything? We can call your Mum if you want..."

"I'm. FINE," she affirmed, turning around and pushing him out. "Now go or it won't be only the professors that will be out for your head, the other guys will be as well for abandoning the match," she concluded. Dylan let her push him, but he stopped under the doorway, turned around and embraced her.

"Just rest, okay?" he asked her, his chin on her head. "You know you get too stressed sometimes. Um, almost always. Uh... maybe."

Hermione laughed and leaned her head on Dylan's shoulder. "Yes, yes, I get it."

He kissed her forehead as a goodbye. "I'll see you tomorrow. I love you."

She kissed him lightly on the lips, feeling happy for having such an understanding and wonderful boyfriend. To her she was more than just a boyfriend, he was and would always be her best friend. Someone who understood her better than anyone, and when he didn't fully understand her, he supported her and he valued her. He couldn't believe that someone like her, a know-it-all, unpopular girl who was stuck to her books, could've found someone who loved her so much. She gave thanks for having him with her every day.

"I love you too, Harry."

The reaction was immediate; Hermione felt him tense up and a couple of seconds later, he let go of her and stared, confused. Hermione didn't understand, and even felt rather hurt from the sudden separation. "What?"

"Harry?" he asked, his expression getting darker fast. "Who's Harry?"

Harry? What Harry? It was then that Hermione thought back and realized what she'd said. Worried, she tried to fix the situation. Who was Harry? She didn't know any Harrys! Why had that name come out of her mouth, and in the worst moment possible...? Unless...

"Oh. My. God."

"Well?!" Dylan exclaimed, growing more irritated by the second, as was his right. He was waiting for an explanation, and Hermione wasn't giving him one soon enough.

"I-- Dylan, uh..." Few times had Hermione Granger been speechless. If the white owl hadn't been a sign that she was losing it, this definitely was. "Harry is-- sorry. I mean-- I meant to say 'Sorry.' You know, about the extra homework."

Dylan looked into her eyes, trying to gauge if she was lying. Sometimes Hermione did strange things, but to say some other guy's name when she was kissing him? That was definitely out of the norm. But with her tear-filled eyes and an expression devoid of... malice, it was hard to believe she was lying to him. In the end, he decided to give her the benefit of the doubt.

"Okay, if you say so," he replied, his tone undefinable. "Sleep. I'll see you in the morning." And with that he turned around and went back down.

Hermione entered the room, closing the door behind her. The tears were starting to roll down her cheeks. Nervous, she sat on the edge of the bed and hid her face in her hands.

What was happening to her? Everything was spiralling out of control... She hadn't only hurt one of the most important people in her life because-- God knows why, but now her little imaginary friend who visited her every night also had a name. Where the last remains of her sanity evaporating by the second?

Harry Potter.

What did it mean?

author's notes--

always be careful about what you say in front of your significant others. i haven't experienced this but i'm almost 100% sure that if your loved one calls you someone else's name, it's going to hurt a lot. haha, poor dylan, i mess up his life so much ^^U

if you're thinking of asking me what the hell took me so long, well... uhhhh... i'd kinda forgotten this was here. walked out of the fandom a long time ago and never resumed translating it. i'm still not coming back for good, but updating my fanfics can't be a bad thing. i'm sorry for the wait (if you're still bothering to read this fic after book 6 absolutely destroyed my canon...)

from here on, everything starts going downhill. next chapter you get 2 for the price of 1! yes! you get both the perspectives from 'harry's' side and from 'hermione's' side, all in one chapter! yay! ^______^

don't mind the typos, it's 3 am...

5. #5

Somnium Insidiae
by cali-chan.

"Wait... Are you telling me to find out if this Herma-person was ever in Hogwarts?"

Harry sighed, annoyed at Ron's attitude. He knew it didn't sound logical, but it was the truth!

After coming down from the girls' room, Harry found himself under his classmates' curious gazes, as they wondered why he'd run out so suddenly towards the girls' dorms. Harry, obviously, had no idea how to explain his actions. Parvati and Lavender later declared that the new arrangement of the furniture wasn't terribly bad, and that maybe they would leave it that way for a while. Dean asked jokingly if Harry had decided that his new calling was towards interior design-- they all laughed, but nobody really got the joke (wizards, after all). While the other Gryffindors were distracted, Harry pulled Ron to a corner where they could talk without being bothered.

"HERMIONE. And yes, that's exactly what I'm saying. Will you do it or what?" he replied harshly, quickly losing his patience.

"Harry... you're making me think that having a girlfriend really DOES fry a guy's brain cells," Ron shot back, staring at him like he had not only a few screws loose, but the whole structure.

"Look- Ron- I- argh!" the boy exclaimed, passing his hands through his hair. "Think what you want. But can you PLEASE do what I tell you?!"

Ron thought about it for a couple more seconds and then shrugged. "Okay, then. But if I get in trouble, I'm blaming you."

"Good. Thanks." Harry turned around to go to his dorm and comb his hair again. If his mother saw him as he was at the moment, she'd let him have it and he didn't want to be humiliated in front of Cho. He was already going up the stairs when Ron called him again. "What?"

"You've gotta write the name down for me, mate, 'cause I swear I'll forget it. What sane parents would give their daughter such a crazy name, anyway? Mental, they must be..."

Harry sighed and ran to get a piece of parchment.

He was seventeen minutes late when he finally made it to the entrance to the Head Students' dorms. Cho wasn't waiting for him outside, but luckily he found the ghost of the Grey Lady, who was coming from the Common Room. Somewhat desperately he asked her to go look for Cho and let her know that he was outside, waiting for her. The Lady looked at him like she was reluctant, but went in anyway and Harry knew she'd done as promised because Cho came out the door a few minutes later.

"Hello! I've been waiting for a while," she commented, walking towards him to greet him with a kiss.

Harry had the decency to blush a little. "I'm sorry. I had to help... Ron... with something from our, uh, Transfiguration project. I'm sorry I kept you waiting," he said as he took her hand and started walking towards the main entrance.

"Ah, don't worry. You know? It's one of the things I like the most about you... your give priority to helping those who need you," she explained, leaning her head on her boyfriend's shoulder. Harry hugged her by the waist, feeling a little guilty. What would Cho say if she knew he'd left her waiting because he was thinking of another girl? "Very few people do that," she continued, without knowing she was making Harry uncomfortable.

He tried to make things better, as he was starting to feel like a bug for not telling Cho the truth. He wasn't being the best boyfriend ever, that was for sure, but he wanted everything to go well that night. Kicking Hermione out of his mind, he tried to think of a way to compliment Cho.

"Erm... I like what you did to your hair, Cho."

She looked up and at him with a strange expression. From her every possible reaction to his compliment, this was the one he least expected. "What? Did I say something wrong?"

"What do you mean?" she replied, letting go of her hand.

Harry, who at the moment was sure he'd screwed up somehow, tried to straighten things out. "Uh, your new hairdo. Is it a perm charm, or a potion? Because-- uh-- it looks great, really..."

Now Cho crossed her arms and frowned. "Harry, I don't know what you're talking about. My hair has always been curly!"

It was almost eleven when Harry climbed up the stairs to his dorm room. He thought about the events of the day.

Contrary to what he'd expected, it had been the perfect evening. His mother had been perfectly nice to Cho. She hadn't made any kind of inadequate questions or embarrassing comments, as it often occurred when mothers met their sons' first girlfriends and all that. What was more, as the end of dinner approached, his mother and Cho seemed like they've been friends for years. Even Gwynn behaved like the perfect young lady; not once did she make one out-of-place comment, and she didn't even ask Harry why she hadn't brought Ron with him. And his father, so different to his classroom persona, spent all the time joking and making Cho laugh. In the end, the first meeting between his girlfriend and his family went excellent.

Yet Harry couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.

Things were getting weirder by the second. And the fact that everything went well only confirmed that thought. He couldn't help but feel that something was going to go drastically wrong very soon. That was for sure; after all, that's how his life had been since forever: each time things seemed to be going well, some other tragedy came and it all went to hell.

Extending his hand to his room's doorknob, he shook his head. Tragedy? What tragedy? His life had been completely happy and normal up until that very day...

Those dreams were messing up his head. Yes, that was it. He just hoped that Ron was awake and could tell him if he'd found anything about Hermione's existence, or her non-existence, as it were. However, he wasn't that lucky, for Ron, just like their other roommates, was deeply asleep. Harry had no choice but to go to bed and wait until the next day to talk to him.

After crying some more, Hermione decided that her tears wouldn't be any help at all: if she wanted to figure out what was happening, she had to do something. She would at least try to discover the mystery behind this 'Harry Potter' before she admitted to herself that she was going crazy. There was a logical solution for everything in this world, and this wouldn't be the exception. So, she steeled her mind to be cold and impartial, and she threw herself onto this new mission, getting comfortable on her bed with a notepad, pencil and eraser. She just remembered that it took her roommate a little bit longer to come up, because she wanted to do this while she was alone and undisturbed.

Biting the end of her pencil, she thought of all the instances in her past in which she could have met the boy. It was the only explanation she could find, that she had met him somewhere and now her subconscious had decided to bring him back. She had, of course, passed by some more fantastic options, from prophetic dreams to telepathy, but she had never believed in magic and such things, and she wasn't going to start now. So she carefully checked her memories, looking for an answer. With such a privileged memory, it wasn't too hard.

A couple hours later, she found herself at zero again. She'd written down many memories, and she'd scratched out most of them. There were many occasions in which she'd met all kinds of people, especially with her parents in conventions and other meetings of the sort, but she could not remember ever having met a Potter family or a Harry Potter at any point. Maybe she was losing track somewhere...

A sound at the door interrupted her train of thought. First the doorknob shook, and then someone knocked on the door twice. "Granger! Open the door! Why are you locked in?!" she heard her roommate's voice.

Hermione got up and opened the door, frowning. She couldn't remember having locked it.

The girl walked in and Hermione once again sat on her bed, examining her notebook carefully. She wouldn't have a silent environment that would allow her to get to clear conclusions anymore, but she could at least do something.

Her roommate stared at her. "What are you studying? We don't have any homework, do we?" Taking something, possibly her bedclothes, out of her bag, she continued speaking before Hermione could answer. "Oh, wait, we do... thanks to you."

Hermione glared at her, but didn't dignify that comment with a reply. At least not out loud; "Not like she'd actually do the homework, anyway," she thought to herself, leaving the notepad aside to look out the window and down to the courtyard, where it seemed the boys were about to start another match. "Best two out of three!" some were yelling. "Two out of three!"

Looking up from the first draft of her Chemistry report, Hermione snuck a glance at her watch and noticed that it was after eleven pm. If she tried hard she could still hear the noise from the courtyard below, and she thought it strange that the chaperones had let the boys play until such a late hour. But she didn't give it a second thought and focused on doing her homework.

...after this the water flows into a container where the chlorine is mixed in; this is necessary to...

But she couldn't finish the phrase because she was interrupted by some yelling coming from the window. Curious, she rose from her bed and, seeing her roommate, who had been already asleep, also sit up, she looked out the window to see what was going on.

"Professor Jeevers!" she heard one of her classmates scream. They were all gathered together almost beneath the window, forming a circle, looking at whatever was in the middle. Hermione wasn't sure what it was, because their heads and their shadows didn't let her get a clear view, but she assumed it was one of the boys who had gotten hurt or something similar; that was very common in footie, right? "The ball hit him and then hit the window! I think he's got a cut on his forehead, he's bleeding..."

"Who got hurt?" her roommate asked, from her bed. Hermione was going to tell her she didn't know when she saw that the professors were coming up to the circle of boys. Professor Jeevers made them all stand to the side so he could see, also inadvertedly allowing Hermione to do the same.

It was Dylan.

"Oh, my God!"

"What? Who is it?" her roommate asked, but Hermione, in her anxiety, did not even reply. She ran out the door, without even thinking that she was wearing her sleepwear, only focused on going downstairs and making it to Dylan's side.

When she got to the courtyard, she knelt on the floor beside him. Professor Jeevers was pressing a handkerchief tightly against the boy's forehead, and it was drenched in blood. When he saw her there, he told her to hold the handkerchief in his stead while he went to call a doctor. Hermione, who was almost working herself into a panic when she saw the amount of blood that spilled around her, did not hesitate for a second when it came to making herself useful, and carefully started to clean the wound.

She finally stopped the blood and, shaking some sense back into her head, she eyed critically the cut. It didn't seem to be very deep; that calmed her a little. She had seen in some documentary that superficial wounds bled copiously, she that explained the hemorrhage. It was long, however. It started to the right side, at the top of his forehead, almost at the hairline, and dropped down with a twist until it was almost to the right eyebrow, where it met the nose. It would be a very peculiar scar, if such a thing existed. If you looked at it from a certain angle, it almost looked like...

Hermione's heart stopped for the second time in as many hours.

The cut was lightning-shaped.

Now she was completely sure she was going crazy. She could swear she had seen a scar exactly like this... on Harry Potter's forehead.

Luckily one of the guests at the hotel was a doctor, and could tend to Dylan quickly. He declared the wound was not critical, took a few stitches and told him to get some rest. Between a couple boys, they helped him go back to his room and left him tucked into bed, where he would sleep until the next day, when they'd go back to Nottinghamshire.

Hermione was the last to walk out of his room.

Having recovered consciousness some time before, Dylan was still a little dizzy. Maybe it was because of that, Hermione wondered later, or maybe because he was really so good a person that he had already forgiven her for that night's incident; but for whichever reason, when she was walking out of her room, he took her hand and kissed it, thanking her for being by his side. And Hermione felt wretched.

She walked up the stairs to the next floor with a heavy heart. She felt like the lowest creature on Earth. How could it be that, having such a wonderful person with her, she couldn't stop thinking about someone else, someone who probably didn't even exist? How to explain that when one of the most important people in her life got hurt and needed her more than ever, her mind went flying towards places that weren't real except in her subconscious? Was there any logic to that?

When she got to her room, she saw her roommate lying down on her bed again, covering herself with a blanket. She asked her to please close the window, because she was cold, and Hermione, who was already standing up anyway, did so.

From the darkness outside she could hear the noises of nocturnal animals coming out to start their waking hours. For a second she thought she saw something white revolving around the trees that surrounded the window and she thought that it could be the snowy owl she'd seen that afternoon, but the odds of that would be really low.

When she turned to go to bed, she found on it the papers she'd been writing on, and also the notepad where she'd scribbled everything concerning her dreams. Glaring at it with some resentment, she picked it up and threw it in the trashcan. She wasn't going to lose anymore time thinking about Harry Potter. They were just dreams, and nothing more.

She lowered all her other papers to the floor and laid down, still telling herself the same thing over and over: she had parents who loved her, an amazing boyfriend, good grades, good health... her life was almost perfect. She didn't need anything else. She wasn't going to think about Harry Potter anymore.

But then... why did she find herself wishing Dylan's eyes were green?

When Harry woke up the next morning, there was nobody else in the room. When he looked at his watch he understood why: it was almost eleven am. He'd slept in, and by a lot; and Ron couldn't wait for him because naaaahhhh, he lived to eat and couldn't stand being one minute late for breakfast. Muttering something under his breath about not needing enemies, he hurried up and got dressed, hoping he wouldn't miss breakfast altogether because he was too slow.

Walking down the hallways, he wondered if it was him who'd gone crazy, or if it was the world. It was almost unbelievable that two days ago his life was practically perfect, and now he couldn't shake off the feeling that something strange was going on; his girlfriend's hairstyle change and, more than anything else, the fact that he seemed to be the only one who noticed that there had been a change at all, were almost sure proof. The certainty that he was losing his mind, or that he wasn't, depended exclusively on whatever it was that Ron had found out after talking to Professor McGonagall; that is, if he had found something.

He was thinking about this so hard that he almost crashed into a Second-year Hufflepuff boy. Luckily someone called him at just the right moment, and he stopped on time.

"Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall repeated at the same time Harry turned around. The woman's expression was serious and Harry was afraid Ron completely screwed up the past day.

"Uh... yes, Ma'am."

"I don't know what new trouble you're stirring up now," she declared, crossing her arms. "And I can't imagine why you'd be interested in gaining access to the Student Files, but I can tell you that they're strictly confidential and ask you to please not try again."

Harry let out a groan and buried his face in his hand. Ron hadn't just screwed up, he'd screwed up royally.

The Professor's eyebrow went up in an almost amused fashion. "Don't take it out on Mr. Weasley. He really tried, but you and I know that he's as subtle as an elephant."

Harry sighed. "I'm sorry, Professor. It won't happen again."

"Frankly, Potter, I must admit I'm intrigued about your motives. That was without a doubt one of the most unusual conversations I've had in my life. It makes me curious to know why you two would need such information."

Still with her arms crossed, she stared at him, expectantly. She obviously wanted to know the whole story. Harry, on his part, was kicking himself mentally. What could he do? He couldn't think up an excuse on the spot, he wasn't a good liar! He had no other choice but to tell her about his dreams, leaving out the parts about Cho's hair and the girls' dormitories, of course.

"...And I just wanted to know if she exists or if I'm going crazy," he concluded, rather weakly.

His Professor regarded him with a strange expression. For a moment Harry thought she was going to let him have it, but she didn't. "That's okay. Don't let it happen again."

Harry nodded and started to go on his way. He had already turned around to get to the Great Hall, when the elderly Professor called him again. "Mr. Potter." Harry turned to see her and was surprised to find her smiling at him. It was a rather sad smile, but still a rare thing to see, coming from the Deputy Headmistress. "You're not going crazy."

Harry's heart leapt to his throat. What she was implying with that phrase was... "You mean that--"

"Don't look for her anymore, Mr. Potter." And with that the Professor went back into her office, leaving Harry standing there, gaping, for a good couple of minutes.

At last, still shaking, he made it to the Great Hall and sat at the Gryffindor table across from Ron, who seemed to be going through his second serving of eggs and bacon. When he noticed Harry's arrival, Ron said hi and handed him a plate of food he'd saved for him, magically kept warm. A minute later he also noticed that Harry had not heard a single word he'd said and tried again.

"Hey, mate, I'm sorry, but I couldn't get anything out of McGonagall. I mean, really, I was lucky she didn't give me detention..."

Harry raised his hands to signal him to stop talking, and Ron did. Maybe Harry would tell him what the devil was wrong with him now.

"Ron, you're not gonna believe this..."

"...But I think I know who the green-eyed boy is."

Hermione looked at her in surprise, as she passed him the plate she had just washed. "You're having me on, right?"

Her mother smiled at her while she dried it. "Not at all. While you were out, I had time to look him up..." Leaving the plate in its place and the wipe she was using on the counter, Helena Granger walked out of the kitchen. Hermione quickly dried her hands and followed her.

When they got to the living room, she took a rather old photo album out from a closet and, sitting down beside her daughter on the couch, she laid it on her lap and opened it.

Hermione grimaced when she saw the photograph her mother was pointing to. "I think I remember him..."

Her mother nodded. "Yes, you do. Vernon Dursley. Your father and I have business ties with his company, for some parts for our medical instruments. One year they invited us to their Christmas party, and that's where you met him."

"Okay... what does that have to do with the green-eyed boy? Because I can assure you, this man isn't him, and neither is his son," she added, pointing to the fat boy who was standing next to Dursley on the picture.

Helena laughed. "I know, I know. But..." She moved on to the next pate, and pointed to another picture, similar to the previous one.

Hermione eyed it and found nothing to draw her attention. "It's them again."

"Look closer. Behind Mrs. Dursley."

Hermione took the album from her mother's hands and focused on the picture. And she noticed that, effectively, there was someone she hadn't noticed before, almost hiding behind that woman: a small, thin and pale boy, whose clothes and glasses seemed too big for him, and wearing such an amazed expression on his face that anyone would say he had never been at a party before.

"You can't really see his eyes, and the scar is a bit blurry, but the hair and the glasses..."

From the smile on her daughter's face, Helena knew she'd hit the jackpot. "Mum, it's him! I can't believe this... He looks much older in my dreams, but I've no doubt..."

"When that picture was taken, you were about seven years old. I think he was also about that age."

"Weird that he's popping up in my dreams now," Hermione muttered, more to herself, as she stood up. "Thanks, Mum. You took a weight off my shoulders."

"At least now we know you're not completely barmy," her mother quipped, putting the album back inside the closet. "What are you going to do now?"

"About the dreams?" the girl asked, stretching. "I won't think about that anymore, it's silly. I have to go up and finish my report, and then I'm head across the street to check how Dylan's doing."

"At least this time he wasn't knocked down too badly."

"With all the times he's gotten hurt playing that awful sport, it's a miracle that he hasn't gotten his name carved on one of the hospital beds," Hermione grumbled, walking upstairs towards her room and leaving her mother to wash the rest of the dishes.

Another day entirely dedicated to their Transfiguration homework, and Harry felt like his head would explode. Not only could he not concentrate after his conversation with Professor McGonagall, but it turned out that even if he was able to concentrate, he couldn't answer the questions because he simply had no idea what the answers were. And none of his classmates could help him because they were all as lost as the missing link. For some reason, none of the Sixth year Gryffindors took notes, or at least any notes that were good for something. If he thought about it, maybe they should name someone their official note-taker and that person could share with everyone...

Harry and Ron had decided to go and ask Tonks, who was their Defense against the Dark Arts teacher, but who knew a lot about Transfiguration, if she could help them. They were just about to go out through the Fat Lady's portrait, but before they could, someone opened from the other side and they met face to face with Professor McGonagall again.

"Mr. Potter, the Headmaster would like to speak with you."

Harry threw Ron a curious look. That was twice in one day he was called on by a Professor, which couldn't be a good thing. Ron shrugged, as if telling him that this time he hadn't done anything. Harry, not finding support from his best friend, sighed and quietly followed the Deputy Headmistress.

Harry had been in the Headmaster's Office plenty of times, not so much because he got in trouble but because of his parents, and the place never ceased to amaze him. That had to be the most magical place in the world; it hid all kinds of artifacts, books, maps and other things Harry was sure couldn't be found anywhere else. Not only that, but the raw magic that could be felt in the air was impossible to replicate.

The little baby phoenix that was resting on its perch cooed when it saw him, and Professor Dumbledore looked up. "Ah, Harry. I was expecting you. Sit down, if you please."

The Professor conjured up a chair and Harry sat on it, a bit hesitant. Dumbledore was acting too... serious. And that wasn't normal.

"Professor McGonagall tells me that you and Mr. Weasley have been performing a type of... investigation regarding a certain person's file..."

Ah. So it was about that. "I already promised Professor McGonagall that we wouldn't do it again, Sir."

"And that is very well and good," the Headmaster interrupted him before he could add anything else. "But I rather think that instead of just telling you not to do it again, I should explain to you the reason why you should not do it again."

Harry didn't understand. He knew perfectly well that the Student Files were confidential. Wasn't that the reason he'd gotten admonished? But Professor Dumbledore moved a hand over his desk and a roll of parchment appeared in front of him. Without another word, he opened it and handed it to Harry.

The first thing he noticed was that the picture that was in it wasn't moving, which was weird, he thought, for a file from a school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. But then, skipping over such details, he saw what the Headmaster was trying to tell him: it was the picture of a girl with bushy hair and a big smile that put on display her rather prominent upper incisive teeth. The picture was black and white, but Harry knew from the heart that her eyes, just like her hair, were brown-colored. And immediately under the picture, there was her name.

Mouth gaping, he stared at Professor Dumbledore. "It's... it's her! I knew it! I knew it wasn't just my imagination... She really exists!"

Dumbledore leaned his weight against his elbows on the desk and watched the boy in his euphoria. And his eyes, instead of shining brightly when gazing upon such happiness, got even darker.

"No, Harry... she existed."

author's notes!

doooom dooom DOOOOOOOOOM!

haha!

short chapter, i know. but when things start to speed up, i'm forced to deprive my paragraphs of a bunch of adjectives and as you can see, we're left without some filling. but look at it on the bright side, at least you get to the interesting part more quickly, and without as much ado!

as promised, you had both harry and hermione in one chapter. i hope that answers some of your questions (and brings up some new ones, as well...). the next chapter will also be like this one. like i said in the previous chapter, this fic is rolling down now. there are only seven chapters and an epilogue, so you'll find out what this is all about very soon. i just posted chapter 7 in spanish yesterday, so chapter six in english might just come out sooner than you thought.

thank you so much for all your reviews! i love hearing all your theories and explanations as to what's going on. thank you so much for reading and if you drop me a line in a review i will most certainly reply back, so go ahead and give it a try, i might reveal some little tidbit you'd be interested in.