Disclaimer: I don't own anything from the Harry Potter franchise, nor do I intend to claim any ownership. So, everything other than my original characters, plot, and writing, as well as my interpretations of canon events and characters belong to J.K. Rowling and her minions. Yes: minions. Anyone as awesome as J.K.R. has to have minions.

Story Summary: Bridget Griffins is the first to admit that she's rather obsessed, but it's too much even for her when her obsession starts affecting her dreams as well as her waking hours. What happens when an avid HP fan finds out that her fandom isn't as fictional as she thought? And she has to live through it.

Prologue

Not Again

"I believe in looking reality straight in the eye and denying it." -Garrison Keiller

God, she was tired. Bridget sat up, letting the covers fall back, and ignored the subtle chill of the quiet, Hawaiian night as she rested her forehead in her hands, elbows perched precariously on her knees. Her breathing was unsteady and her usually bright brown eyes were dull and tired, dark with uncertainty. All she wanted was a nice, full night's sleep without— without those—

"Not again," she muttered to herself as she pressed the heels of her palms against her eyes. "Not again," Bridget repeated, firmer than before. "I am not going crazy and I am not having these weird, stupid dreams." She ran shaking hands through her dark hair in a sorry attempt to calm herself. "This isn't real. It's all in my imagination."

But, as much as she was trying to deny it, this girl had been having strange dreams, very strange dreams that seemed to revolve around an extremely popular, but equally fictitious book series. Everyone knew that those books were made up, fake, make believe, totally and completely not real, which meant that her dreams were just a product of her overactive imagination.

Right?

Unfortunately, she was starting to doubt the fictional quality of those books and was, in turn, also starting to doubt her sanity. Because, really, who in their right mind consistently dreamed about characters and situations from a book? Every night? It was absolute lunacy and she was so tired.

Bridget Griffins let her head fall into her hands again and sighed. This sucked.

His life sucked.

The boy fished on his bedside table for his glasses, pushing them on with a tired sigh once he found them. He sat up, turned the lamp on, and picked up the well-worn book next to him, flipping it open with all the airs of someone who was used to the task, if not someone happy to be doing it. This was the third time in a week he'd been woken up and he was getting a little tired of reading Flying with the Canons at three in the morning just because he couldn't get back to sleep.

His name was Harry Potter and he was a wizard, a very well-known wizard. Anyone who knew about his world would know about him and would automatically look to his forehead in search of the famous scar left by one Lord Voldemort, the same Dark wizard Harry happened to be currently trying to defeat. Anyone who knew Harry (the real one, that is, not the idolized, idealized version so prevalent in that world) would probably agree with the teenager's assessment— his life really did suck.

By now, Harry was rather used to waking up in the middle of the night because of his visions, but it would be nice if they'd at least manage to be useful. He had no clue why he was dreaming about this seemingly Muggle girl (it definitely wasn't for the obvious, normal teenage-boy reasons) or how she could be connected to either him or Voldemort.

He sighed again, running a hand through his hair; maybe he should owl Hermione.

Author's Notes: Well, there's the first chapter of my novel-length Harry Potter fanfiction. It's a fan-meets-character fic based in Harry's sixth year, but during Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire; it'll be explained. It and its sequel are completely planned out, so—barring death, serious injury, or amnesia—there's almost no chance I'll ever abandon it. Granted, it might take a while to finish, but it will be finished.

Don't forget to review!

Next time in When Reality Fades:

Wait. Maybe they were here for her, not him. Hermione had mentioned something about magical transportation being traceable during her many lectures on Hogwarts and Apparation, and Harry was almost positive that— Muggle or not— she had arrived magically. Besides, it wasn't like it would be difficult to find out where "that delinquent Potter boy" lived.

She stared expectantly at him for another few seconds, while he thought, before saying, "Are you going to tell me what's happening? Or… um… get off me?"

"Oh. Right. Sorry." Harry swung his leg back over, kneeling next to her as he helped her into a sitting position.

"And the situation?" she prompted briskly, brushing the dirt off her clothes.

"I don't really, um, know, but we have to get out of here before they see us. My aunt's house is nearby; we should be able to make it there if we cut through this garden."

"Why?" she asked. Her eyebrows furrowed as she peered suspiciously at him. "Why should I go with you?"