Extended Summary:

What happens when Nikki Birnes (1 year older than Harry, 1 year younger than the Weasley twins) finds her way into a time Vortex that brings her back to the Marauder's time period? Dumbledore has two different missions for Nikki and her friend, Sophie, to complete. But soon, Nikki befriends the Marauder's. Soon, she lives two lives. But... which one is meant to be? Only time will tell.

Or was time the one who dragged her into this mess in the first place, creating boundaries that set her apart from her real life and the life she wanted? No - the life she needed. The life she craved. The life she could never, ever have. The life that was merely meant to be a dream, that could only ever be a fantasy. But, sooner or later, dreams turn into nightmares; fantasies turn into realities; and life turns into... death.

Please let me know what you think! If you're interested, I'll continue the story. Simple as that. :)

Chapter 1

I sighed and looked around me. Everyone in class seemed either utterly bored or disturbingly intrigued by today's Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson. I couldn't care less; I hated my teacher. I shifted my gaze over to the window and stared at the open grounds of the castle, hoping for some sort of interruption from class. No such luck.

My name is Nikki Birnes, and I'm a sixth year Gryffindor at Hogwarts. I'm good friends with Sophie Vargas, a tall and fair-skinned girl from Ibiza. She has a brown-blonde pixie cut and hazel-green eyes that change color in the sun.

The two of us share what we call our "pad," as it is a pretty sweet little tower located right off of the Gryffindor wing right in between the exits for the boys and the girls' dormitories. We have our own kitchen, common room, bathroom, and bedrooms; it's decorated pretty nicely, too.

Our beds each have four posts with red and gold curtains. Our bathrooms are big with pristine white tiles. It seemed all too much like a mini-spa; there are mirrors with light bulbs around them, a cabinet for all our bathroom products, a Jacuzzi, a bath, and a stand-up shower with glass doors. Of course, our pad is decorated with red and gold everywhere – the carpets, the bed sheets, the curtains, even the bathroom rug! The common room had a big red velvet couch with gold lining and a couple of red and gold 'lazy boy' chairs. The kitchen counter was made of redwood and gold granite, with a cabinet for chilled drinks. (We mostly kept sparkling apple cider in there, anyway, but there was also the occasional Bailey's or Vodka.) We have a stainless steel fridge and a lot of pantry cabinets, which were also made of redwood. There are also lots of lion portraits and some shields and armors throughout our pad.

"Anyone?" Inquired Professor Umbridge, bringing me back to reality. "No one knows the answer?"

I sighed internally. Her high-pitched voice was getting on my nerves and I did not want to give her the satisfaction of having my cooperation. "Ms. Birnes," she said, looking at me, "are you telling me you don't know what the Three Unforgivable Curses are?"

"The Imperious Curse, the Cruciactus Curse, and the Killing Curse," I said dully. We learnt this last year, you crazy old cat lady, I thought to myself.

She looked taken aback. Everyone stared at me appraisingly. "Very well, then. Class dismissed."

Sophie caught up with me after class. "Nice one, Nik," she said, giving me a nod of approval.

I laughed, dismissing Sophie's comment. "I just answered a question, it's not like I actually stood up to her."

"Yeah, but you showed her that we don't really even need her teaching us… that she's useless."

I shrugged.

"OI — NIK, SOPH!" said two voices in unison.

Sophie and I looked at each other and thought, The twins.

I smiled as I felt a pair of warm hands grab my shoulders from behind me. I turned around to face him. "Why, hello there, George."

For the first time in months, I saw my two favorite heads of fiery red hair and pairs of brown eyes. Fred and George both had very similar characteristics — okay, nearly identical characteristics — but I could tell the difference between them by the way they acted and carried themselves. After a while, it became sort of like a sixth sense; I could always differentiate between the two, even when Mrs. Weasley sometimes couldn't.

"And Freddikins," I said, pinching his cheeks tortuously, "you've grown so much."

He crinkled his nose and pushed my hand away from his face. Fred pretended to glare at me. "Thanks, Aunt Muriel."

Sophie and George laughed at us. George piped in, "Ah, Freddikins, you forgot your blanky at home, shall I tell mum to send it over?"

"Oh, would you, George! That would be very kind of you. I think mum would also appreciate if we sent her that toilet seat we told her we were going to blow up in our third year, we never really got around to doing it."

Fred and George looked at us and bowed. "We'll be seeing you ladies later."

With that, they scurried off to the nearest bathroom.

"What a pair," Sophie said.

I couldn't help but laugh again. "Double, double, toil and trouble."

"I can't believe they're a year older than us."

I shrugged and said jokingly, "Boys."

It was lunchtime, and I went back to my room to take a nap. Just as I was drifting off to sleep, there was a knock on my door.

I jumped up in excitement as I saw who it was. "Harry! Hermione! Ron!"

They all swarmed in and toppled me to the ground. "We missed you," said Hermione.

I smiled and tried to breath. "I… missed you… too."

The three of them got off of me and we all went over to the common room. "Ron, Hermione, congrats on being chosen as Prefects."

"Thanks," Hermione replied. Ron just sat there, staring at me.

"Ron, what is it?"

He shrugged. "You're the only person who isn't in shock that I'm a prefect. Everyone thought that Harry—" Ron pointed at his best friend —"would have gotten it."

"Oh, c'mon, mate," Harry said. "I know for a fact that Dumbledore always makes the right choices. Look where it's gotten me through all of this Voldemort crap."

"That's right," Hermione said. "Dumbledore sees something in you, Ron. Don't let what others may think get to you."

"I agree. Prove them wrong. Show them how great a prefect you can be," I said, smiling encouragingly.

Ron smiled at took a piece of cake that was sitting on the common room table. "Thanks, guys," he said, stuffing his face.

I turned my attention to Harry, who was sitting next to me on the couch. "Hey," I said, quietly, as Ron and Hermione were bickering about something, "how have you been doing, Harry?"

"I'm fine."

I looked at him. "Don't give me that. I know about Sirius, I know about the dementors, I know about Voldemort, and I know about the dreams."

Harry looked alarmed. "How?"

I sighed; I shouldn't have said that. Truth is, Dumbledore told Sophie because he wants her to watch over Harry for now. "You don't remember telling me over the summer?"

"I'm pretty sure I haven't told anyone but Dumbledore."

"I know you and Sophie have some sort of job or deal with him," Harry said, "I get that, so I'm not upset. But — just don't tell anyone."

"I would never! Just tell me, friend to friend, how you're dealing with all of this."

Harry sighed. "I dunno… sometimes it feels like I'm just peering in on what Voldemort is doing, but other times… other times it feels like I'm doing what Voldemort is doing."

"Look, I know you feel unsure about this whole connection you have Voldemort, but listen to me — that doesn't change the fact that you and him are two totally different people. As Dumbledore would say, 'it's not our abilities that define us; it's our choices.' While Tom Riddle chose to become the most powerful, evil wizard of our time, you chose to be in Gryffindor and rise up against him… don't you think that says something?"

Harry looked at me. "Thanks, Nikki."

"Hey, what are friends for," I said, shoving him playfully.

Hermione looked at her watch. "Oh no! If we don't get a move on right now, we're all going to be late for our next class!"

Ron rolled his eyes. A feeling of dread washed over me, as I realized: "AH! I have Snape!" I grabbed four pre-made PB&J sandwiches from the fridge and made a run for it.

"Wait, Nikki! Your potions book."

"Thanks, Ron, you're a lifesaver! I'll see you guys later!"

I sprinted down the steps, and headed towards the dungeon. It was the farthest classroom I had from the Gryffindor towers, of course it had to be the one class I was cutting it close with.

'Where are you?' Sophie's voice rang in my head.

I was a little alarmed by this. Dumbledore always spoke of giving Sophie and I some sort of direct source of communication in case of emergencies; I just never pictured him giving us telepathy.

'I'm on my way, Soph. Please stall for me.'

I ran down the hallways, with some of the portraits yelling at me.

"Yeah, you run away, you ignorant little girl!"

"Well, well, well, what seems to be your hurry?"

"Got something you've gotta do there, lil' miss?"

I sprinted faster. I hated when portraits made the stupidest of comments that somehow still managed to intimidate me. But hey, at least it helped me get to potions class quicker.

I chomped down the rest of my sandwich and headed inside the classroom.

"…When I tell you that you will all be conjuring the Drought of the Living Dead. No partners for today. Ah, Ms. Birnes," said Snape, turning to face me, his eyes dark with resentment, "how kind of you to join us."

I felt my cheeks get warm as I took a seat next to Sophie.

'So much for stalling,' I thought, frustrated.

'Sorry! I tried my best, but you know Snape.'

'Unfortunately, yes.'

Snape leered, amused. "Mind sharing something with the class, you two?"

I was puzzled. We were just using telepathy… how on earth could he know? The two of us shook our heads.

'Him and Dumbledore have close ties, for some odd reason,' Sophie thought.

Damn, I thought (to myself). This is going to become annoying. Is there a way we can shut off this mind reading thing?

'I dunno. We're supposed to have a meeting with Dumbledore sometime later this week to talk about how we can control this new thing.'

'Wow, you heard that? Hm… I wonder if this is how Harry feels when he and Voldemort … well, you know.'

'Probably. I think it's more of a one-way thing though… Harry can only see into Voldemort, or Voldemort can only see into Harry.'

"Okay, enough," I said to Soph, taking a deep breath. "Let's get started on potions."

"What a genius idea, Birnes," Snape said, as he passed by. "Ten points from Gryffindor. No more silly teenage girl distractions."

I was seething with anger on the inside. Why does Snape always pick on me? I've never done anything to him in my life. I guess I can't complain; Harry has it worse...

"Stupid potions teacher," I mumbled to myself as I cut up the valerian roots and crushed the sopophorous bean. I scooped both of the ingredients into my cauldron and the draught turned a deep lilac. After stirring for a couple of minutes, the potion turned a pale pink, the color it was supposed to be.

Snape was making his rounds around the classroom, searching for anyone who failed the assignment miserably. I wondered what it would be like to be in Harry's class — I hear Seamus' draughts often blow up in his face and that Neville often ends up in the Hospital Wing. Knowing Neville, he felt safer there than in the dungeon; he had an awful, awful fear of Snape.

"Well done, Warrington," Snape said to a Slytherin in my year. Dean Thomas calls him "that big bloke from Slytherin who looks like a sloth," and I guess I can't blame him. Warrington is also the Slytherin Chaser, and is now part of Umbridge's Inquisitorial Squad.

"Pucey—could use a little more stirring." Adrian Pucey was also a Slytherin Chaser in my year.

Snape started making his way towards the Gryffindors. Katie Bell and Cormac McLaggen were in my classes, and we got on pretty well. Well… McLaggen could be a prick sometimes, but I guess other times he could be decent.

Of course, Snape only made comments about Sophie's potion and mine, as picking on us was one of his favorite pastimes.

Snape clicked his tongue. "Tisk, tisk. What a shame, Vargas; not enough sopophorous."

Snape then turned his attention in my direction. He didn't speak for a while, but instead just stared at my potion. He took a sniff. "Five points from Gryffindor," he said, sharply, "you were supposed to cut up the sopophorous bean, not crush it. Speak with me after class."

How on earth did Snape know that I did that? And why do I have to stay after class for actually getting a potion right?

The whole class was mumbling about this too. I could hear the indignant protests of Katie and Sophie. Even Cormac was a little red in the face. "Why, just because she's a Gryffindor and she's good at potions?" someone from the back said.

Snape had a distant look in his eyes as he said, in that depressing, hollow tone of his, "Class dismissed."

"I'll meet you outside," Sophie said before she left.

I carried my Advanced Potion Making book and walked up to Snape's desk."Yes, Professor?"

It felt as though Snape's dark eyes were burning holes through mine. "How did you know to crush it, Birnes?"

I shrugged and said somewhat matter-of-factly, "I just figured it would be easier, as the bean is pretty difficult to chop up."

"Give me your book."

I was taken aback. "Excuse me?"

"Your potions book, Birnes. You're slower than I thought. Must I repeat it once more?"

I didn't say a word and dropped my book on his desk with a plump sound. He smirked at me. "Now, now, watch that temper. Gryffindors…"

Snape was flipping through my book, as if he was looking for something. He seemed particularly fascinated in the first page of the book, where I wrote my name. Snape took another glance at the page with the instructions for the Drought of the Living Dead. "You bought this book just this year, correct? It's brand new?"

"Yes."

"Yes sir."

I laughed. "I'm a girl, Professor."

Snape glared at me. "Another five points off Gryffindor for disrespectfulness." He tossed the book back at me. "Dismissed."

Is that even a word, "disrespectfulness?" I thought as I took the book and left the classroom.

Sophie was waiting for me outside. "What'd he do?" she asked curiously.

"Strangely, he just checked my book… he seemed to be looking for something, as if he thought I was cheating. He asked me if it was new. Maybe some people have reused other people's old books with shortcuts written in them."

"Weird."

"Tell me about it."