So it was stupid of us. I'll admit it. But what were we to think? We were just cynical suburban girls, (oh god, I was now from the suburbs); too tired of this life and the way that it was run. We needed a little magic in our lives, something to wish for beyond the president getting a brain before he blew up our country, or that two of us could get married regardless of who we chose.

So we did the "logical" thing. I found that hitchhiking guy with the ice blue eyes and the wolf dog and asked if he'd known someplace "magical" in his travels. I really just wanted a place where four girls just out of high school could go and pretend they were more than they were. More than just three white girls who hadn't really left Maine to travel for traveling's sake, and a bi-racial girl with too much attitude who wasn't sure how to do anything else. I wanted a small adventure we could call each other up and laugh about when the distance of college got too much.

He smiled at me. Said if that was what I wanted, he knew the perfect place for four girls like us.

" It's a small cabin up in the woods of New York. Every time I send people there, they always come back with a story to tell, if they decide they don't like it well enough to stay." And of course I decided that he wasn't really a bum at all. Just a rich guy who got his kicks reliving ennui by dressing down and thumbing around the country. So I took the address and key from him.

Let it be known now. Among the four of us, there was the caring voice of reason, the beautiful realistic one(who was also the moody one, but we loved her any way), the overly practical and somehow optimistic cynic, ( don't ask how that one worked), and the crazy/sarcastic, do-it-now-before-I-change-my-mind, yes-that's-a-tattoo, wild one who never planned anything out if she could do it on a whim and survive. Guess which one I was?

And so being the last one, I talked my friends into a short weekend in the cabin. ' Just three days' I said. ' It's summer, what could happen?' I said.' We'll. Be. Fine.' I said. I lied. I lied on all accounts.

Did you know that there are places weak enough that you can fall through space and time into other worlds? Did you know there used to be one in upstate New York? Did you know that if everyone in the room in a cabin in upstate New York just happens to be at least the tiniest bit passable at Latin, that you can open your way into those worlds quite accidentally? Most importantly, did you know that if you don't hold tightly to each other, you'll end up in the same time, but different places?

" Neither did we."

*****************************************************************

Arnica

*****************************************************************

I open my eyes slowly, holding onto my stomach like it's all I have to anchor me to the world. Actually, I'm trying to anchor it in my body, but you don't want to hear about that. Trust me, it's not a pretty sight. I lie under the bright blue sky, staring up at the puffy white clouds. Fleetingly I hope, desperately, I've just gotten myself smashed and staggered out of the cabin and fallen asleep on the ground. A lack of trees above me tell me this was not the case. I'm in a field somewhere. Near by, a figure crouches by a stream. There was definitely no stream near the cabin. My lower lip pokes out, trembling.

" Zoë?" I call nervously, my voice small in the air and small in my ears." Dia-chan?" I sniffled a bit then. " Sock?" None of my brunette friends ran over to comfort me. Instead there's simply a tall man with long black hair, tangled through with bit of leaves and sticks, his eyes worried as they light on me.

" So you're up then." His voice is rough. He sounded like hadn't used it much, but one thing was certain. He was definitely not American. I put my head in my hands and begin crying. He becomes alarmed. " What's wrong?"

" M-M-My sister t-t-told me I'd e-end up lost over s-s-seas if I didn't stop playing!" I wail. " I didn't mean to get drunk and end up in E-E-England!" He smiles at me.

" It's okay. We all make that one bad apperation." He soothes laughingly. " You're just lucky you didn't apperate where that lightening hit the ground." I wrinkle my forehead and sit up slowly, scooting backwards some. This man is crazy. Beautiful, I will give him that ( Sort of a mix between one of my old teachers and a backstreet boy), but undeniably out of his mind.

" A-apperation? Like disappearing and re appearing?" I ask slowly, standing on wobbly legs. God, even crazy hermits who pretend they are British and live in the woods of New York have read all the Harry Potter books. He nods.

Fine. I must only have wandered away from the camp and have forgotten. In fact, I bet I'm not even drunk. I bet I'm just dreaming. Because I know that if I dreamed about waking up in a field all alone in a Harry Potter world, I'd want to wake up near a Sirius Black who looked like a mix between my favorite teacher (who for the sake of his family shall remain nameless) and Kevin form the BSB. I wrinkle my nose. Okay, normally, I'd dream him smelling a bit better, but I ate about three plates of beans and little brandy/barbeque sauce weenies, so perhaps I'm a little weird from that. Yep. I've fallen asleep while my fourth year Latin scholar friends try and figure out what was lying around with the great runes on the cover.

" Yes, apperation." He says patiently. " Can you apperate out of here?" I shake my head. This is actually a pretty cool dream and I am in no hurry to end it. Instead I reach up and untangle a leaf from his hair. He blushes slightly and tries to get the long tangle in a semblance of order. I grin and get up on my knees, the falling sensation leaving my stomach finally as I continue to gently untangle the bit of debris. " What are you doing?" He asks in shock. I look at him in surprise. This is normally the part where dream!Sirius succumbs to my many charms and...you don't want to know that either.

" I adore long hair." I whisper in his ear. " And yours is too beautiful to have leaves stuck in it." If Dream!Sirius hadn't given into before now, that should have been the part where I can rest assured of sweet dreams. Instead, he grabs my wrist.

" Who are you?" He stands and is menacing and very tall. My normally tall five foot ten frame is nothing compared to the six two angry white man glaring down at me. Shit. This is not how dreams go!

" I'm Arnica." I yelp as he squeezes my wrist a bit tighter. The pain is sharp and hot and when I thrash, it doesn't feel like everything is filtering to me through water. Gods, I'm actually awake and about to be assaulted by this man. The blood stops flowing to my hands and I can feel them beginning to get cold as I hold still and take a few deep breaths, trying to clear my mind as he shots out questions. Things like who sent you and how did you know where to find me? I'm stalling, but I'm supposed to do something else... oh yes.

I pull back suddenly and use the momentum to bring my size twelve boots up to knock into his crotch. He makes a small noise and I kick him once in his knee caps to make sure he stays down, and run as fast as I can the opposite way. I'm doing pretty good by the way until my three inch heels (did I mention I love heels?) twist under me, and I fall into a large hole with a sickening crack.

I had never broken a bone before now. I scream very loudly and for a very long time. Then I cry for a while because I now have a very angry rapist coming after me and I can't even run away. Shifting a bit, I look down and realize that my foot was tangled around the strap of my project grad bag. The bag that was between my knees when we sat down to look at the book that called to all of us.

:: The room was spinning and there was a bright blue/white light. One of us screamed? Maybe we shared one scream?::

I shake my head of the weird thought and look up to see a very large black dog looking down at me, growling. Hastily I reach in my bag and pull out a mechanical pencil. If push comes to shove, I can always try to poke it in the eye while it's ripping out my throat. And then my attacker is there, staring at me oddly.

" That's not a wand." He says softly.

" It's a pencil and I swear I'll stab you in the balls if you touch me again. I swear I've had enough of you type of guys. I'm sick of this shit and I just want to know where in the fuck I am and how far from the cabin I am. If you tell me, I won't press charges, if you touch me, you'll have to kill me." Perhaps this would have sounded more intimidating if I weren't whimpering and sobbing, but he didn't touch me again. Simply slid down into the hole with me, his hand closed around a

::wand::

stick of some sort. He kneels by my broken leg.

" There aren't any cabin or inhabited area's here for about forty miles." He says softly, waving the

::wand::

stick over my leg and

::saying a spell::

muttering as if it would do any good. And then I realize I'm not crying anymore and that my helper-turned-attacker-turned-helper was helping me to my feet and that I was standing. Biting my lip I looked at him nervously.

" What's your name?" I whisper. He looks uncertain. " Please, I won't tell any one."

" Sirius.."

" Black." I finish numbly. " Oh god. I'm not dreaming. This is real..." I clutch his shirt looking around a bit desperately. " I don't belong here." I think I'm becoming hysterical because he sits me down and pats my back. " What did we do?!"

*****************************************************************

I don't know why we did it. It was stupid, right? Follow some strange hitch-hiker's directions into the woods of upstate New York? Spend a weekend there? See what happens? It sounds crazy even to me, and I did it. Me and my friends.

Oh, I think I know why Arnica did it. The weird crazy guy told her about the cabin, and she thought, sure, let's do it, without giving it a second thought. She's like that, you know. Shoot first, ask questions later.

I know why Sarai did it, too. She wanted to keep us from doing anything crazy. She knew I wanted to get plastered before going off to school. Maybe she wanted keep me from running around nekkid in the woods. Whatever. The practical one. Even she couldn't save us.

My twin is more of a mystery to me. For Aradia, I think it was mostly the rebellion. A chance to say, "Fuck you, Dad. We're eighteen, and we're gonna do whatever we damn well please." She didn't say it quite like that, but you get the picture.

Me? I went for a lot of reasons. Partly it was the adventure. Partly, the rebellion. Also, as Sarai feared, I wanted to get drunk. To know what it felt like and what I did, so I'd know not to do it at school. I never found out, though.

Mostly, it was to get away. I wanted to spend a weekend with my friends where we didn't have to worry about parents, work, little brothers and sisters. I wanted to have one last hurrah with my posse before we all split up for the school year.

That was before we found that damned Latin.

You know how sometimes things don't turn out like you planned? That's what happened that night. It started out pretty innocent. We got there, hung out for a while, then we saw this book. A book full of Latin words.

Now, as much as I used to complain about it, I love Latin. I took four years of it with a great teacher. I wanted to read the damned book. So Aradia, Sarai, and I started reading while Arnica looked on, amused.

Did you know that if you say the right words, at the right time, in the right place, you can fall right out of your world and into another? I mean, shit, that's really gonna fuck you up.

****************************************************************
Zoë
****************************************************************

"Fuck!" A scream tears out of my throat before I can catch it. The entire left side of my body is in pain. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK!!" I yell, tears of pain streaming down my face.

Cursing myself silently for my stupidity in falling over (who knew I was so tired?), I sit up, ignoring both pain and nausea, and look around to see if any of the others saw my fall and subsequent outburst.

My eyes meet the surprised face of a man standing directly in front of me. The surprise is gone, however, as he starts laughing, blue eyes twinkling with humor. He looks down at me, offering me a hand up, face a mixture of sympathy and amusement.

"First time apperating?" he asks, still laughing. "It happens to the best of us."

"First what?" I exclaim. My head hurts too much to deal with psychos, and this guys got to be psycho, because I thought I heard him say…

"Apperating," he repeats. "Don't worry, I won't tell your friends."

I stare at his hand as though it's going to bite me. "I must have hit my head harder than I thought," I murmur. "Where's the cabin? Where're the girls?"

The man looks down at me, concern creasing his forehead. "Are you all right? Do you need medical assistance?"

"Great," I mutter. "Even my hallucination thinks I'm crazy." I look back up at him, fighting back the nausea that occurs if I move my head too much. "I'm fine. In a whole lot of pain, but fine. Even finer when I wake up. What's your name, figment?"

He frowns. "I think I should take you to see a doctor. Can you stand?"

"Of course I can stand," I snap, irritated that this dream character is questioning my fitness. He grabs my left wrist and pulls, trying to help me up.

I don't get up. Instead, I scream as shooting pains from my shoulder fill my consciousness, dimming sight and hearing, before finally canceling itself out, as my world fades to black.

When my eyes open again, all I see is white. Is this heaven? Where are all the beautiful women? No fair!

I sit up, hoping for a better view of paradise, and realize I'm in a hospital bed (Oh God, what did I do?). I look around for a friendly face - my parents, stepparents, twin. Hell, even my brother would be welcome now.

Instead, I see the brown-haired man from my dream. He looks relieved to see me awake. His face breaks into a smile.

"How are you doing, Zoë?" he asks.

I look back at him, confused. "Uh… Fine… How do you know my name?"

"We opened your wallet and pulled out your driver's license. An American, huh? You went a bit off course, didn't you? Don't worry, we'll find a portkey to take you home."

"A… What?" I ask, knowing I must be dreaming again (Did I ever wake up?).

"Portkey." (No more Harry Potter for me…)

"Where am I?" (I am dreaming, right?)

"You're at the Diagon Alley Clinic for Non-magical Injuries Obtained Through Magical Means. You had quite the concussion. And with the cracked ribs and dislocated shoulder, it's a wonder you were conscious at all."

I stare at him dumbly. "I'm not dreaming, am I?" I manage to ask (No, stupid. You don't feel pain of lose consciousness in dreams.).

"No…" he says slowly. "You're fully conscious… Are you going to be all right?"

I feel the color draining from my face. "My friends aren't here? I'm not in the cabin?"

"No… I think I'm going to call a nurse…"

"And you. Please tell me your name is something innocent, harmless. Bob Smith or something like that. It's just a coincidence that you look exactly like I would imagine… But you're not. Tell me you're not." I'm babbling, and shaking. I look crazy, I know I do. (Should have left that Latin alone…)

He looks at me like the lunatic I appear to be. "No. My name is Remus Lupin. I teach Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts. Doctor!"

My eyes roll up into the back of my head as I faint for the first time in my life.

Oh, God. What have we done?

*****************************************************************


I don't know why we all did it. I think it was for many reasons. Arnica did it for the adventure. I now that. She has always complained about how Gorham, Maine was such a boring white-people town. Zoë probably did it for the fun. One last party with the girls… I think that the only reason Sarai did it was because we talked her into it. She was always the careful one, the mother to us all.

I did it for lots of reasons. One of them was the adventure. I've never had a really good adventure, and this seemed like a good place to start. I also wanted to spend some time with my friends. After all, we all were going away. Most of us to college… It would be a long time before we had a chance to do something like this again. I guess, if I'm being honest with myself, I probably got talked into it. After all, I am generally a careful person. The last reason I did it was for the rebellion. My father always thinks that my twin and I are really horrible children, just waiting for a reason to be in trouble. I guess I wanted to prove to him that I could do something without his permission. After all, I was eighteen, and I didn't have to listen to him anymore.

Stupid reasons, huh? In order to get back at my father, I got myself into, well, this…

And when we got to the cabin… I of all of us should have known better. As the only certified Witch of the group, I should have seen "Sic desiro, sic ille erit" as a red flag. After all, what ordinary Latin poem ends with "As I will it, so it will be?"

***********************************************
Aradia
***********************************************

I didn't fall very far, about five feet at the most. And my landing was pretty soft. Before I hit the pavement on the street, my body slammed into someone, breaking my fall.

My head was spinning, and I felt a little queasy. It felt almost like I'd drunk too much, but a little different. I recognized the feeling. It was the feeling of having done magick. As a Witch, I've had the feeling before. It's the feeling of when a spell has worked. It also happens to feel like being drunk. Drunk on power.

When I opened my eyes, I immediately wished I hadn't. Standing over me were two people, both dressed in what looked like robes. Not bathrobes, but, well, like the robes I would like to have had for my rituals. Magick robes. One of them was a boy, about my age. He was beautiful. His hair was white-blonde, like a vela from the Harry Potter books. In fact, he reminded me a little bit of how I'd imagined Draco Malfoy looking. Except it wasn't, because that was impossible. The other person was obviously the boy's father, and the one I had hit on the way down. He was glaring at me with anger in his eyes so intense that I was afraid.

"I'm so so sorry!" I scrambled to my feet, ignoring the pain in my back. "I don't know what happened! I was just… And then…"

"Stop talking, girl." The man waved a stick at me, and murmured a Latin word that my mind registered as Latin, but I couldn't think of the translation for. My babbling was cut short as I felt my voice leave me. Try as I might, I couldn't make a sound.

"You will speak only when I ask you a question. Do you understand?" I felt myself nod, though I really didn't understand at all.

"What is your name?"

"Aradia."

"How did you get here?"

I felt myself answering, as though the words were being pulled from my unwilling lips. "I used an ancient Roman spell written in a book in the middle of a cabin in New York."

This felt too real to be a dream, or a hallucination. I started, for the first time, to get really scared. This was real, and I was lost in a place I didn't know. I was among strangers who seemed to have no problems hurting me. I didn't know what was going on. I was separated from my friends, and I didn't know how to get back.

The man looked at me with contempt, mistaking my fear of the situation with fear for him. Though, I must admit, I was afraid of him. "So, you are an American witch." He shrugged. "I guess I didn't need to worry about you after all. Everyone knows that Americans are hopeless. No wonder you landed like this. Couldn't even manage a simple Apparition, could you?" He sneered at me, turning to his son. The boy, I noticed, was glaring at his father. Clearly, they had just had an argument, but he seemed reluctant to let the man know he was unhappy. Ashe saw his father turn to him, I saw him change his expression to mimic the look on his father's face.

"Please, sir, I'm lost, and I need help. If you could tell me where I am, at least, and help me out, I would be grateful.

The man, ignoring my plea, walked off, calling his son to" Come," like a dog.

I found myself in the dark alley, alone. I started to walk around, slowly, trying not to attract any attention. I feigned interest in the things I saw in the windows. From what I saw, it looked like a haven for mean-spirited practical jokers. Either that, of a place for Wiccans who decided not to live by the Rede.

The first thing I saw were cages full of huge black spiders. Stifling a scream, I sidled across the street, walking now next to a store who's sign told him it was called Borgin and Burkes.

There were black "poisonous" candles, a tray set out with what looked like acrylic nails. A sign above it said "Human fingernails, fresh picked from a three day old corpse." I shuddered. It wasn't that close to Halloween yet. Why did they have something like that out already?

I followed the twisting road down, watching as each shop sold more horrible things than the last. There were skins from deadly snakes, what looked like voodoo dolls, really well painted renditions of shrunken heads… All of it looked so… Real, I decided. By now, panic was sinking in. I wouldn't cry, I decided. After all, that wouldn't get me anywhere. I felt my heart skip a beat, like it does every now and again. I hid in the shadows of an abandoned doorway as I heard footsteps getting closer.

I heard the person go into a store. I quickly decided to leave my hiding place. After all, I had every right to be walking down the alley, and I was just being silly, hiding in the shadows. I looked out, checking to see that no one was around. I slipped out of my place, walking down the road, pretending that I hadn't been hiding.

A minute later, I wished I hadn't. There was the guy again, the son of the one who had talked to me. He was walking towards me. I quickly turned around and started walking the other way. I heard the footsteps of the silver haired guy coming towards me faster.

I glanced over my shoulder. He was jogging towards me, an expression of purpose on his face. My eyes widened with fear. When I was little, I was, well, raped by a guy, and I was terrified that it could happen again. And here was this guy, following me, in an abandoned alley, and I just wanted to escape because I was so scared.

I broke out into a run, not caring that it looked stupid for me to be running away from some teenager who didn't even look that scary. I felt my stomach drop out as I looked up in front of me. Dead end.

I slowly turned around, watching the blonde come closer. There was nothing I could do. I was never very good at self-defense. I shut my eyes and waited for the worst.

It never came. Instead, I heard a voice.

"Why did you run away?" I looked up. The guy looked positively puzzled. "Look, Aradia, I'm only trying to help you here." They guy rolled his eyes. "Okay. I'm Draco. You asked my father where you are, and now I'll tell you. You're in London. Knockturn Alley to be exact."

I gulped. No. There must be plenty of people named Draco in London, and J. K. Rowling must have gotten her street names from reality. That must've been it.

I turned my attention back to Draco.

"I'll hide you under my cloak, and hide you in my room when I get home. I would give you a room of your own, but my father has invited hundreds of wizards from all over the country, and most of the rooms are full. You'll fly on my broomstick with me, and we'll get home that way. I'll tell father that I just feel like trying out my new broom. Do you understand all that?"

I nodded, deciding that this was a dream, after all. After all, this was the Harry Potter world, and it couldn't be real. I decided to just go with it. It would be more fun that way.

"Wait, Draco, why are you doing this?"

He turned to me, an ironic smile on hi face.

"Because my father told me not to. This, at least, is something I can do." I shrugged, understanding. That was, after all, why I had embarked on this journey in the first place, so I understood his reasoning.

I felt him throw a cloak over me. I could see nothing of my body. Suddenly, I just wasn't there. I saw Draco start to walk away. I followed him, walking as silently as I could manage.

After a while, Draco motioned me to stop.

I heard him talking with his father, cold boredom in his voice as he asked if he could ride on broom home. His father agreed, telling him not to be too late coming home.

After Draco's father left, we walked along the Alley, following its twists and turns until we burst out into a sunny street. I removed the cloak, giving it back to Draco so he could put it away for as long as we were here.

A large sign told me that we were on Diagon Alley. Draco turned to me suddenly. "Do you have a wand?" I shook my head, confused. "I didn't think so. I didn't think you were really a witch, either, but you obviously have some power if you could use that spell. Do you have money?" I grinned.

"That I do have. When we left for New York, I was afraid that we would have some trouble. So I emptied my bank account. I have about a thousand dollars with me." I thanked the Goddess that She had made me at least a little careful.

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Muggle money?"

"Of course."

"We'll have to get it changed for you. Gringotts is just around the corner." He walked away, not looking back to see if I was following. Deciding to keep going along with it, I followed, checking my jeans pocket to see if I still had my money with me.

When we got to the bank, I stopped. The goblins at the bank looked, well, like nothing I'd ever imagined. I frowned. Wasn't a dream supposed to beat least something like what I imagined?

Still puzzled, I followed Draco into the marble building.

Ten minutes later, we walked back out. In wizard money, I had 500 galleons, 16 sickles, and 27 knuts.

"Wand first." Draco led me into a shop, Olivanders. I settled into the solitary chair and waited. This isn't a dream. I decided. Whatever we did with the spell brought us here. I have to find the others. Until then, I'm going to enjoy myself as much as I can. I smiled and settled more comfortably in the chair, waiting for a wand, waiting for my future…

*****************************************************************

"Just three days," she said. "It's summer, what could happen?" she said. "We'll. Be. Fine." she said. Remind me never to listen to her again.

I knew this was a bad idea- okay, so maybe I didn't know something would happen, but, c'mon, four teenage girls just out of high school, piling into a '93 Buick (seeing as how I'm always the chauffer) and heading into the wilds of New York- we were asking for trouble. But does anyone listen to me? No. Instead, I get, "Oh, come on, Sock- stop worrying so much!" and "Yeah- nothing'll happen, we're just gonna have some fun." Some fun. Huh. So, fine- I have a tendancy to worry a bit. Well, it's not my fault- my mom watches too much Dateline. Besides, one of us has to be able to be realistic, right?

Okay, so maybe I didn't argue quite as much as I could have. Maybe I could have just said no, I'm not going- you're all crazy. But maybe I was also getting sick of my little brother and hey, I love the bookstore as much as the next person, but I was ready for a few days off. And, yeah, we were all splitting up for college and stuff after the summer... Besides, if I didn't go, I'd regret it later, when they all came back laughing at stuff that happened, and no one had gotten hurt. So I went. Like I've been saying- Stupid, stupid, stupid. You know, considering I always wind up being the mother figure in our little group, you'd think I'd have some common sense. And you'd think, that after knowing Arnica for four years- never mind four years, knowing Arnica period- I'd be smarter than to let us do this without a bigger fight than the one I put up. I really should have pressed her about who she got the cabin from. Then again, if I'd done that, I probably would have regretted it.

In any case, I'm sure that nothing I ever imagined happening was ever anything like what did....

******************************************************
Sarai
******************************************************

I felt like I had a hangover. Of course, as I've never had a hangover, or plan on ever having a hangover (as alcohol frightens me on many levels), logically I knew- somewhere in the back of my mind- that this was not a hangover. But it was the only thing that came to my mind. Maybe because of the argument we had in the car on the way down about drinking... Arnica wouldn't have broken that rule, not after the fuss I made... Would she? Then again, even if Arnica was laying in a corner plastered, it would not have explained why my head was pounding, and my back felt broken and I thought I was about to be violently ill.

As my head began to clear, the pain in my back and neck grew sharper and the roller coaster feeling in my stomach increased. Drawing in a deep breath, I groaned slightly and mustered up enough energy to open my eyes slowly. Blinking, I waited for my vision to clear, and winced in the sudden light. I must have hit my head- hard, I thought, because I was staring up at a ceiling that seemed impossibly far away and realized vaguely that it did not look like the ceiling of the cabin. There was a searing pain directly between my eyes that I recognized as the beginning of a gigantic headache- one of those 'just-let-me-close-my-eyes-and-leave-me-the-hell-alone' headaches that make it hard to think straight. Maybe a migraine, but I'm not sure what a migraine feels like, because I've never been told, "you're having a migraine." Ditto for hangovers, but as I've never drank more than one of those tiny cups of wine at communion, I know I've never had one.

Where is everyone? I think wearily, shutting my eyes again. You'd think that if I fell and hit my head, at least Aradia would be doing something about it. Considering she's the will-be doctor. With my eyes shut, my headache began to ease slightly, and so I kept them shut, trying to block out the voices I was beginning to hear. I was tired, and I figured that it would take too much energy to get up and find out where my friends were. If I fell asleep, I could get rid of this headache, and then help Zoë and Aradia figure out the rest of that poem... And keep Arnica from eating all the Jelly Bellies...

Just as I was slipping off into sleep, I felt someone's hand on my back, gently pushing me up. I started and blinked rapidly, choking back a cry of surprise. A kind, accented voice said gently, "You poor thing, here. Drink this." I found myself accepting a mug of what looked like tea, and I drank it obediently, not sure of what was going on. I stared into the cup as I drank slowly, forcing myself not to panic and start sobbing as I did so, because I was suddenly very positive that I was no longer in our little cabin in the woods, and that none of my friends were with me, and that I had never met anyone with the voice I'd just heard. While I carefully looked nowhere but into my cup, I couldn't help but hear people talking around me, all with British accents.

"Molly, careful now. She might have a concussion, or she could have hurt her back."

"Hit the table hard, didn't she? Broke it, even."

"Fred, you've a bowl on your head."

Hey! You're a poet and don't know it."

I make things rhyme all the time."

Shut up, you two!" This was the first girl's voice. "Is she all right, Mum?"

I think so," the first voice said quietly. I worked frantically to even my breathing, as I was beginning to hyperventilate and felt tears of panic building up. I looked around cautiously, as if by looking I was making all of this real. It's a dream- it's a dream brought on by too many Jelly Bellies and Diet Pepsis, and maybe the water you washed those pears in wasn't good, and you've just passed out after an extremely long game of Scrabble and you'll wake up and find the cabin a mess and you'll have to blare the Spice Girls to wake up Zoë and Arnica. I'm tired from the drive, and sick from the junk food- Fritos and barbeque sauce do not mix. We worked too hard on that poem. You're dreaming, Sock. But even as I thought this, I knew that I'd never actually felt pain in a dream, and I'd never had a dream this strange before...

Looking around, I found myself in a small, cozy kitchen- or rather, I imagined that under normal circumstances it would have been cozy. Because I realized with a flush of embarrassment that somehow I was sitting in the center of what had once been a table, set for breakfast. (If Aradia were here, she'd pounce on me to see if my scalp is red- which I'm sure it is.) And that with the exception of the woman holding me up as I drank my tea, the room was full of people- all of them with red hair. Bright red hair. I'd never even seen that hair color in real life- it was an even more vivid shade than that of the boys I baby-sit for, which I had always thought was about as red as you could get, while still being a natural red-head. And, yes, one of them had a bowl of porridge upside down on the top of his head, his twin- I was assuming that they were twins (how could they be anything but?!)- splattered with its contents.

"Nice look, Fred, actually. Rather compliments your hair," another boy- apparently my age- said with a smirk as he handed something to who I was guessing must be their father, a tall, thin man with thinning red hair and worn deep green... robes. My eyes widened slightly at that revelation, and they swept quickly over the others in the room- the twins, their brother and the one girl in the room- standing beside Fred and wringing her hands worriedly- were all in shorts or jeans and tee-shirts. However, the boy standing in the doorway wearing glasses and a shocked expression, was wearing the same sort of clothes as his father. I felt sick. If I didn't know better, I'd think I'd just been dropped into the middle of some sick fanfic...

I shut my eyes again, swallowing hard. To my surprise, I still felt sick to my stomach, but I recognized the feeling as that of fear- the same knot and twisting, eating-at-your-insides feeling that I get when I hear thunder or see lightning. And, amazingly, I realized that my headache was fading and my back was beginning to feel better. Instead of calming me, this only made the knot in my stomach twist tighter. I felt suddenly light-headed.

"Are you all right, dear? Do you think you can stand up?" The woman's voice asked gently, and I felt her hands on my arms, helping me to stand when I found myself nodding. I stood and she guided me toward the nearest chair, where I sank, feeling stupid and embarrassed and scared and not sure of anything. I think that I was in too much shock to really react- how in the world had any of this happened... What had happened?

"Now, then, dear," she said, smiling kindly at me. "Are you feeling better? That must have been quite a shock, landing like that." She turned, looking over her shoulder. "Ginny, would you get her something to eat? There's more food on the stove." She smiled at me again, while I struggled to process everything being thrown at me.

"What happened?" The boy in the doorway asked, sounding slightly annoyed and astonished as he entered the kitchen, a frown creasing his forehead.

All of a sudden, everyone seemed to begin talking at once. Ginny grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the stove, handing things to him as she talked, and Fred stood up, removing the bowl from his head and lunging toward his brother to try and get porridge on him.

"Oy, Fred! Stop that!! C'mon!"

"Aw, is ickle Ronniekins afraid of getting porridge in his hair?"

"Yes, after seeing the way you two look."

"Boys!"

Oh, god.... I must be dreaming. I put my head in my hands and blocked out the noises of this strange family that was making my Harry Potter obsessed, over-fanficced (which is not a word, I know) mind spin. This cannot be happening. There's no way- no possible way. Harry Potter is not real, no matter what. You are not where you think you are, these people are not who you think they are... Why doesn't anyone listen to me when I get paranoid and worried? Why didn't we just stay home this weekend... This is all Arnica's fault. If she thinks I got mad when she ate crab at that outdoor sushi place, that was nothing compared to when I find her again... I wanna go home... I don't wanna be here, I don't want this to be happening to me... I just want everything to be okay, I wanna wake up in that god-forsaken cabin and go home... What is going on?!

Tears pricked my eyes and my throat closed up and I knew that I was going to cry- which was not something I wanted to do, but which was something I was surprised I hadn't done yet. I pressed the heels of my hands into my eyelids hard, forcing myself to breathe deeply and evenly and to fight back the waves of panic beginning to crash over me. Under my breath, in the back of my head I began reciting the Lord's Prayer over and over and over, which is something I usually reserve for thunderstorms, but which I figured couldn't hurt, as I didn't think I'd had a panic attack like this in a long time. Slowly I began to calm down and I could feel myself begin to regain control. Taking deep breaths, I told myself that I would be fine- these people seemed nice enough, and I would get back somehow. I was eighteen now, I should be able to handle myself better.

Feeling even more embarrassed, I bit my lip and looked up into the kind face of the woman who'd helped me up. "You poor thing," she said gently. "Are you sure you're all right?"

When I nodded feebly, she smiled broadly and moved away, and I found- to my utter shock and fear- that I was sitting at a worn, sturdy wooden table, completely whole and with no sign that it was the same table I'd just been lying on top of. One of the twins- with bits of porridge still stuck to his shirt, sat down next to me with a wide grin.

"Hope that wasn't your test. Where were you aiming for?" he asked conversationally, reaching for a roll from the plate his sister set in the center of the table. She smiled at me and I found myself feeling a bit better- she had a very reassuring smile.

"'Course, you can always take it again- our brother Charlie landed on a little old lady doing her shopping when he took his test. But I think landing on a table in the middle of breakfast makes a better story."

"Well, it could have been worse, you know. You could have landed in the pond," the other twin said to me, sitting down on the other side of his brother. It was hard to tell them apart without the bowl on Fred's head. He smiled. They all seemed to be smiling... He gestured at himself. "I'm Fred, and this is George." He pointed at the other boy, sitting across from me. "That's Ron, and that's Ginny," he continued, nodding toward his sister and apparently not seeing the smile fading slowly off of my face. Rolling his eyes, he pointed to the older boy, sitting next to Ron, pushing his glasses up his nose. "That's Percy." He nodded at me. "What's your name?"

"Uh.. I- I'm Sarai." It's coincidence- that has to be it. Those books aren't real. Even as I thought it, a small voice in the back of my mind whispered What are you talking about? You are eating breakfast with your favorite characters from your favorite books.... Swallowing hard, I worked up the courage to ask the question that was really bothering me. "Wh- where am I, exactly?"

Their mother placed a bowl of porridge in front of me, smiling. "You're in the Burrow, dear."

Oh, god...