Harry sat in the common room, staring into the dying fire.

"Harry?" A gentle, female voice called. Startled, he turned to find Hermione standing behind him. Without a word, he made room for her on the floor beside him. "What're you doing down here?" She asked. "I'd assumed everyone else would be asleep."

Harry shook his head with a sad smile. "I couldn't sleep."

Hermione looked concerned.

Harry turned to the fire again. "I never sleep on Halloween."

Hermione grinned. "What, you go trick-or-treating all night?" The girl sighed. "My parents never let me go. They're dentists, you know."

Harry smirked. "I've never been trick-or-treating either. I always wanted to go though. What are you doing up?"

Hermione blushed. "I didn't want to sleep. I just know I'll have nightmares about that troll." She turned towards him. "You know, I never thanked you. Not properly. Thanks, for saving me."

Harry smiled. "No problem. What're you reading?"

"Oh," Hermione exclaimed, her cheeks coloring. "It's nothing."

"Come on," he prodded her.

Hermione laughed. "Fine. It's a Muggle book series called the Chronicles of Narnia."

Harry grinned. "Remember that all worlds draw to an end and that noble death is a treasure which no one is too poor to buy."

Hermione looked stunned. "You've read it!"

Suddenly, Harry became shy, studying the carpet. "I spent a lot of time in the library when I was in Primary."

"Oh, Harry! Why ever didn't you say anything?"

Harry glanced away, choosing to ignore her question in favor of changing the subject. "I always prayed to open a wardrobe and find Narnia—to go to a land so wonderful, full of magic and goodness."

Hermione smiled. "Who was your favorite character?"

Harry was quiet for several minutes. When he answered, his voice was a mere whisper. "Lucy."

Hermione smiled. "Me too. How come?"

"Well, she had the courage to do what she felt was right no matter what anyone else said. She's the one that found Narnia. She was loyal to her family and to Narnia through everything. She was a warrior. But, she was still kind. She never lost her joy, even after being exiled from Narnia."

"She would've been a Gryffindor, I think," Hermione said, "Aslan even said she'd be a lioness if she were any braver. But she embodied all of the Houses, really—brave, smart, loyal, and cunning."

Harry grinned. "I think they each would've been in different houses if they were at Hogwarts. Lucy would've been Gryffindor, but the hat would've let her choose between being a Lion or a Badger. I think Peter would've been the same, except he'd be more Hufflepuff than Gryffindor. I think Susan would've been a Slytherin and Edmund would've been a Ravenclaw."

"No way!" Hermione protested. "Susan liked studying and Edmund was a sneak. She'd have been a Ravenclaw and he was the Slytherin."

"Yes," Harry conceded, "Susan read in England to escape the war and to seem more mature, but in Narnia she was a politician and would've had to be cunning to pull that off, especially as a woman. Edmund was a bully and a traitor in England, but Aslan changed him. He became a judge and would've had to study really hard for that."

"But he had to be cunning to be a spy."

"I think the hat would've given them the choice too."

"But Harry, the hat doesn't give choices—it just chooses! Right?" Harry was silent, and Hermione turned to him, her eyes wide. "It gave you a choice?"

Harry blushed. "It wanted to put me in Slytherin. I asked for Gryffindor instead."

Hermione scowled. "But why?"

"I'd met Malfoy already, and Ron told me that all Dark Wizards came from Slytherin. Even Hagrid said that most Slytherins went bad. That's all I knew about the Wizarding World. So, I asked for Gryffindor."

As Hermione studied Harry, something else caught her eye. "What're you holding, Harry?"

"Nothing!" Harry responded immediately, moving his hand behind him. He was suddenly pale, and Hermione thought she saw fear in his eyes.

"What is it, Harry?" Hermione asked, her eyes gentle. "You can tell me."

The boy was hesitant. "You can't tell anyone, Hermione. Not even Ron."

"Of course I won't tell, Harry! Your secret's safe with me!"

Slowly, he revealed what he held—a pale blue baby blanket, ratty, with several holes and burn marks.

"Harry! Is this…" Hermione trailed off, unsure of how to ask that question.

Harry refused to look at her, his eyes fixed on the fire. Unconsciously, his grip on the blanket tightened as he drew it towards him, burying his nose in the soft fabric. As he drew in a deep breath, his eyes slid closed and a single tear slipped down his cheek. "Sometimes," he whispered, his voice breaking, "Sometimes I think it still smells like her—like my mum."

"Harry," Hermione breathed, her heart breaking for her friend.

"I wonder what she was like—what they were both like. What was their favorite food? What did they like to do for fun? What were their dreams?" Harry paused, taking a deep breath, before speaking again. "What would they think of me? Would they be proud of me? Would they—would they love me?"

"Of course they would, Harry," Hermione whispered.

"Really," he asked, a challenge in his eyes. "I'm not so sure."

Hermione decided to change the subject. "What do you know about them?"

Harry snorted, turning back to the fire. "I know that my Dad was on the quidditch team, and that he and his friends liked to play pranks. I know he was an auror. I know that Snape hated him, but I don't know why. I know that I look just like him, but with my mum's eyes… That's all I know about Mum—that I have her eyes. Everyone tells me about dad, but no one ever says anything about Mummy." Hermione didn't say anything. She just sat silently and allowed Harry to talk. "I told Ron that I don't remember them at all, but that's not true—sometimes, I think I can remember the sound of her voice, and in my dreams I see her hair and I remember what it felt like to know that I was safe. I haven't felt like that in a long time." Hermione froze, unsure what to say to comfort her friend. Glancing at her, Harry laughed. "It's alright Hermione. I don't need your pity. I just…I wish they were still here, with me. I wish people would remember that they died."