DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. This fiction is purely for my own enjoyment and yours. No money is being made by me or anyone else from this fiction.

Author Note: I had a lot of questions about what the other students dreamed about while under the influence of Neville's potion in Asphodel, especially Harry, so I decided to write about it. I hope you'll all enjoy!

Chapter One

Blearily Harry opened his eyes. He was sitting on the the floor of a fast moving elevator, leaning up against one of the walls. Above his head, several white paper airplanes were floating. But those look like... Suddenly a cool female voice sounded within the elevator. "Department of Mysteries," she said, and the door to the elevator slide open with a creak. Harry shook his head, trying to figure out what had happened. The last thing I remember was Malfoy picking on Hermione, and then Neville's potion exploded... Harry's eyes widened. This had to have something to do with that! But why was he at the Ministry? And where was everyone else?

Harry realized he was still sitting on the elevator floor and has been for several minutes. Oddly, the elevator door remained open, like it was waiting for him. "Guess this is my stop," Harry said to himself. He pulled himself to his feet and stepped slowly out of the elevator, getting out his wand as he did so. He was relieved to find that he still had it, since he couldn't remember the journey to the Ministry. With a loud clack, the elevator door slid shut, and moved swiftly away.

Now Harry was alone. Cautiously he looked at his surroundings. The hallway he was standing in was the same one he had walked down for his hearing over the summer. Harry shivered a bit at the memory and peered around anxiously, half expecting one of the Wizengamot to show up and cart him away. When no one appeared, Harry decided to venture further down the hallway.

Further and further he went, and still he encountered no one. Harry started to walk a little faster now, and as he walked around, things started to feel more and more familiar. This was just like the dream he kept having, ever since the summer. It was...the Department of Mysteries? But hang on, that's just in my dreams. But this isn't a dream...is it?

Harry wracked his brain, desperately trying to figure how he had gotten there. What were we brewing in potions? The Draught of Living Death. Yes. That's right. But if he had gotten dowsed with that, how could he be dreaming? He thought he remembered Hermione saying that you didn't dream with the Draught of Living Death. But if Neville got the potion wrong...Harry shook his head. None of it quite made sense. He wished Hermione was there to spout off her endless knowledge, or at least be trying to figure out what happened. And he wished Ron was there to make a joke and lighten his mood. As it was, Harry was alone.

He pressed onward. He passed door after door, but each one he tried was locked, even with alohomora. Finally, just as he was about to give up on this endless hallway of locked doors, he heard a creak and felt a cool breeze, a draft snaking about his ankles. Harry turned towards it and caught sight of a cracked door. Eagerly he made his way towards it, but stopped suddenly as he reached it.

Harry hesitated at the doorframe. Now this was beginning to feel horribly like a trap. What if he had somehow been kidnapped from Hogwarts? What if he'd had some kind of magical accident and never left his trial over the summer? What if he had imagined everything since then? It was starting to freak him out.

Just when he had decided to turn around and run back the way he came, the door opened behind him and a voice he'd only ever heard in his dreams washed over him. "Harry dear, why are you waiting outside? Come in, your grandad is waiting to see you."

Slowly Harry turned around, not daring to believe what his ears were telling him. He caught sight of the figure in the doorway and his mouth dropped. Standing there, arms outstretched, a big smile on her pretty face, was Lily Potter.