Hi, everyone! I'm back with a new fanfic, as you can see xD I've had this for such a long time and I never really thought about posting it, I don't know why...

It's a bit different than what I normally go for, I've never tried crossovers before but these two universes are so much fun to work with! The Halliwells and the Weasleys are absolutely brilliant and adorable on their own but the two of them together? It's fantastic, really. I hope you like Anya, she's quite the spitfire, and I hope I don't change the relation between the Charmed Sisters too much, I'll try to stick as closer as I can, because let's be honest, you just don't mess with the awesomeness of their whole dynamic.

There are lots of new OC's too that I'm finger-crossing that you'll like, so be free to give me your opinions and share your thoughts, put it all out in the open! As usually, I'm always open to constructive criticism, and I love your replies - all of them really.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or the Charmed Ones and their universe, as much as I would love to eh eh. However, I do own Anya and any other OC's in this story, so let's try to keep that in mind, shall we?

Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

"Dream Girl"

1. Visions

San Francisco, California

Anya was having the most pleasant dream. The boy of her dreams had her wrapped around in the warmth of his arms, holding her close. His beautiful green eyes burned with love as his lips moved against her ear, whispering words that made Anya's heart race and tremble. If she could, she would've stayed there forever. With him.

"Wake up, Anya!" her mother cried as she stormed up the stairs.

"Ugh!" Anya groaned, burying her head further underneath the pillow. Why did she have to wake her up now? They were just about to get to the best part!

She heard her mother shuffle through the room before sunlight struck her in the face. Oh my god, really? Anya groaned again, pulling the covers over her head and keeping a tight grip on them when her mother tried to pry them away.

"Leave me alone, Ma!"

"Oh I don't think so, missy. Now get that cute bum up; it's half past eleven already. We're heading out for lunch, remember?" Piper Halliwell sighed exasperatedly when she realized her daughter wasn't letting the covers go so easily. "Get up right this instant, Anya Penelope!"

Oh now she really means business if she's calling me by my second name…

Her mother finally managed to get the blankets off but Anya was still very much determined to resume her precious dream. Bringing her knees to her chest and hugging them, shivering at the sudden absence of warmth, Anya refused to bulge.

"Fine, have it your way, but I'm getting the bucket!"

Anya shot up. "I'm up! I'm up!"

"Finally," Piper mumbled, then taking her leave.

Anya sat on the edge of her bed for a moment, trying to get her mind to focus. After stretching her sore muscles, she walked over to the bathroom with a yawn. Man, she really needed a cold shower to wake up. The touch of her dream boy still lingered across her skin, his smell deeply embedded in her hair. The dreams were becoming frighteningly more vivid each night she had them and it was increasingly more difficult to return to reality.

As she stood outside the door, reaching for the knob, Anya heard the faint sound of giggling on the other side. She rolled her eyes. Oh geez, really? They were at it again? It was the third time that week! Her aunt and uncle had the maturity of a couple of horny sixteen year old teenagers.

"Prue!" Anya called out. "Your parents are getting down and dirty the shower again!"

Her cousin, who was staying over for the weekend with her sisters and her parents, popped next to her. Prue's pink bunny printed pyjamas made Anya want to roll her eyes; she was such a girly girl.

"Spare my sweet virgin ears, why dontcha," Prue chuckled.

"Virgin ears my ass," Anya teased with a smirk. Prue smirked right back. "How long do you think it's gonna take this time? I seriously need a shower."

"Clearly. I could smell you all the way from across the hall."

Both girls turned to find Anya's brother joining them. Chris' black t-shirt rode higher on his stomach as he stretched his long arms over his head. Anya scoffed at his very unoriginal comment.

"Is that the best you can come up with?" she replied, bored.

"Yeah, I think you're running out of creativity," Prue added.

"Well, he never really did have much of that, did he?"

"Nope, that he did not!"

Chris glared playfully, "Shut up, you weird cousin twins."

"See? So unoriginal." Anya shook her head, grinning at his annoyed expression before turning to her cousin. "Geez, your parents are the worst! They're gonna stay in there forever – like they always do!"

"As much as I hate to admit it, you're probably right," she agreed, making a face.

Chris ran a hand through his messy dark locks, disheveling them even more. "What about the bathroom downstairs?"

"Tracy took that one and she won't get out anytime soon either," Tammy offered as she walked by before disappearing into the guest room she was sharing with her little sister, Tracy. They were both Prue's younger sisters.

"Now what?" Chris asked, to which the other two shrugged.

"TV?" suggested Prue.

We went downstairs to the living room and took a seat on the couch. The worldwide news came on. Anya was hardly paying attention until an image of London suddenly showed up on screen, followed by a short report about a strange set of gruesome murders plaguing the city. It was the fourth time they mentioned murders in England on TV. What in the world was happening over there?

After Chris switched channels to a documentary on wildlife, she lost interest again. Thankfully Anya was saved from boredom when her aunt, Phoebe, and uncle, Coop, walked in. They were holding hands, giggling like the two teenagers she knew they were on the inside.

Anya raised an eyebrow. "And you guys call us teenagers?"

Phoebe flashed a cheeky pearly white smile. "One day, my lovely niece, when you reach our age in your happy marriage, you'll understand how important it is to express your love every single day. I hope you come to me for advice on how to please your husband when such day arrives."

"Ugh, mom!" Prue made gagging noises "Spare your innocent child from those corrupt comments, okay?"

Coop plopped down in the middle of the girls, casually draping an arm over the back of the couch. His handsome face was showing a smirk that made him even sexier, and there was the faintest glint of mischief in his brown eyes.

"What innocent child? There's not a single limb of you that's innocent anymore."

"Dad!" she nearly screamed with a flustered face.

"I don't know why you're so shocked. You've been dating Tyson practically since we reached puberty, it doesn't take a love-genius like uncle Coop to figure it out," Anya laughed.

Prue swatted her arm scowling, "Shut up, Anya. No one asked for your opinion."

"You didn't have to. It's my obligation to comment on your lovely father-daughter intimate chatter."

As if on cue, Anya's father poked his head through the door, looking slightly distressed. Speaking of father… she smiled, amused.

"Hey," he started, "is your mother around?"

"No..." She raised an eyebrow. "Don't tell me you're hiding from her again?"

"I'm not hiding," he grumbled, fully entering the room and leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed. "Have you seen her today? She's so touchy... just this morning I mentioned the eggs could use a little extra salt and she threw me an apple. It's not the first time she's done it but today she actually hit me!"

"Maybe she's menopausal," Anya said as a loud thought. Phoebe and Chris snorted, but Prue palled.

"If she ever hears that..."

"Yeah," Chris nodded. "You'd be deader than a snowman in July and I mean TV-movie of the week, CNN all-day coverage kinda dead."

Anya rolled my eyes, hopping off the couch and making her way towards the stairs, scoffing, "Pff look at me – I'm so scared! What she gonna do? Blast me into oblivi–"

Her mouth was shut as soon as she turned around to find said mother right behind the couch. Ups. Piper looked slightly scary, glaring like that, but then again... she always did. Anya was pretty sure her mother was the single most terrifying woman on earth and not just because of her powers.

She flashed a sheepish grin. "Hey, Ma."

"Oh it's 'hey, Ma', now is it?" Her glare intensified. Not a very good sign; she really must've been having a bad morning.

"Ah ah," Anya chuckled nervously while walking without turning her back on Piper in case she decided to do a surprise attack. It wouldn't be the first time she did. "You know I love you with all my heart don'tcha, dearest Ma?"

Behind her, she heard her family snigger. Those traitors!

Piper unfolded her arms. The action startled Anya so much she let out a loud squeal and lunged for the stairs. Her family might've been laughing, but they would've done the same in her place. You never, ever, mess with a powerful witch with the power to explode anything within a ten feet radius distance. Especially when that witch is the one and only Piper Halliwell, matriarch of the Charmed Ones.

"Next time don't lie and admit that you really are afraid I'll blast you into oblivion!"

Her younger cousins eyed Anya's huffing figure curiously as they made their way down to join everyone else. She could just bet her mother was shaking her head and flipping her hair over the shoulder, piercing her father with a glare. Poor dad, Anya thought with a cringe.

Sighing, she locked the bathroom door and hopped into the shower.

England, the Burrow

Where was he?

Definitely not in the Burrow anymore. The weather was so warm… Harry could see the burning sun in the middle of the clear blue sky.

He was in some sort of garden, or maybe a backyard, with beautiful pink flowers swaying with the wind. He could smell perfume in the air, an odd yet wonderful combination of lilies and strawberries. Strong and sweet. And his heart was suddenly pounding hard against his chest.

Why was his heart racing so fast?

"Harry!"

Harry saw her when he turned around, like he did every time he fell asleep and met her in his dreams, and like always she made his heart stop. She was the most beautiful girl in the world, with hair cascading down her back in soft dark waves, fair golden skin and bright hazel green eyes. She was twirling around in a white lacy dress, and she had the most stunning laugh. Music to his ears.

"Catch me if you can, Harry!"

His legs decided to move on their own accord, running to accept her challenge. Once she noticed him, she squealed happily and tried to escape, but Harry was faster. he quickly caught on to her and, as he flipped her to face him, plunging deep into those bewitching eyes, he was overwhelmed by something inexplicable. He wanted her. He wanted to truly feel her in his arms, touch her out of this dream.

"I love you, Harry," she whispered lovingly. "I'm waiting for you."

Harry's breath was stuck in his throat and, before he even had the chance to reply, she slowly vanished from his arms. Emptiness engulfed him, swallowing him whole. He felt as if a part of him was stolen.

He sat up, sweating and panting.

The dream again. It was always the same – same place, same smell, same girl. And those words… It wasn't the first time she had told them to Harry, but it never stopped being unsettling. Except for perhaps his parents, he couldn't remember anyone loving him, much less actually saying it out loud. But there she was – a strange girl, whom he had never met or seen before in his life and who had waltzed into his dreams to plague his mind and make his heart ache with a throbbing desire to find her.

It was driving him insane. Harry barely caught any sleep during the last few days because, as soon as he closed his eyes, all he could see was her face, her eyes, her smile. She was in everything, everywhere. The obsession was slowly beginning annoy Ron and Hermione as well. They were constantly telling Harry to shut up about his dreams.

Sighing, Harry shifted to glance over to his best friend, who was snoring away like an electric chainsaw, sound asleep under a bundle of old woolen sheets. He would sleep through anything, even with a marching band parodying outside.

Ron couldn't help him

Slipping out of bed, Harry padded silently through the silent halls of the Burrow until he reached Ginny and Hermione's room. He knocked softly on the door. It opened seconds later, followed by a sleepy, dozy-eyed Hermione in baby pink pyjama, her hair a mess.

"Harry, what's wrong? It's 5 in the bloody morning!" she half yelled, half whispered. Upon noticing her friend's face, however, she sighed. "Don't tell me; was it a dream again?"

He nodded sheepishly. "Yeah…"

"Oh alright, come in then."

Harry did, taking notice of Ginny's peaceful sleeping figure under the covers as he sat quietly on the end of the vacant bed. "I need a favour, 'Mione. This time I saw some markings on her wrist." He grabbed a piece of parchment and a quill from her nightstand to do a clumsy sketch of what he'd seen in the dream. "I would really appreciate it if you looked into them, please."

Hermione stared at the drawings, eyebrows furrowed. Then, she glanced up to give him a sheepish smile. "Of course, Harry, but perhaps a bit later? It's way too early to be looking into my books, even for me."

He scratched the back of his head, chuckling, embarrassed. "Absolutely. Sorry to wake you up."

California, San Francisco

An hour later, Anya was finally fully showered and dressed. She had chosen her favourite pair of lilac skinny jeans, a white off-the-shoulders blouse and a pair of sandals. She had also decided to wear her hair down because it was doing beautiful waves and curls instead of annoying the living daylights out of her, like it normally did.

Everyone was waiting, even the rest of the family, who apparently arrived in the meantime. Anya sighed. How was it that she always ended up being the last one down?

"Took you long enough," said her mother, tapping her foot.

"Hey, don't tap your foot at me! If those two lovebirds weren't getting all hot and steamy in the bathroom, I would've been ready a lot sooner," Anya replied, glaring at her aunt Phoebe.

Piepr gave her younger sister an exasperated yet unsurprised look. "Again, Phoebs? Seriously?"

Phoebe shrugged with a smirk.

"Well, are we going or what?" Sandra, another cousin, shifted impatiently in her seat. "I don't know about you but I'm getting kinda hungry."

"Sure, we're just waiting for..." her aunt Paige trailed off as Anya's older brother, Wyatt, and his girlfriend, Donna, walked in. "Oh never mind."

Anya groaned, Prue and Chris joining in, since none particularly got along with Donna. She was a spoiled brat. Anya hated her – from her frizzly fake red hair to the chipped black polish on her nails. In fact, she could hardly understand her brother's sick fascination with the girl. He was such an intelligent man, what did he see in her? She wasn't particularly beautiful, she was mean and rude. I mean, come on.

"Nice seein' you too, Anya." Donna flashed the young girl a fake smile, Wyatt scowling from beside her. But Anya couldn't really care any less; they could glare all they wanted.

Awkward silence hung in the air for a moment.

"Alright... we're all here now so come on people, let's go. We better hurry up," Phoebe said, breaking the tension.

Anya threw one last glare at the annoying red head before grinning widely. "Anyone wanna ride with me?"

"Hell yeah, I do!" Chris grabbed his yellow helmet, tossing Anya hers as they headed out. "Can I drive this time?"

"You wish!" she laughed at the absurd question. No way in hell would she ever trust him with her precious bike. Not only would they end up in the hospital but he would also wreck it. "Hey, are you guys coming or what?!"

They exchanged looks.

"Last one there pays," Piper dared.

"With that old beat up van of yours? Better get that wallet ready, sis." Phoebe flipped her hair over the shoulder, my uncle rolling his eyes at the two.

"Oh you're on, Phoebs."

England, the Burrow

Hermione took the day to do some researching on her books about the information Harry had given to her earlier that morning. She had way too many books and she was absolutely brilliant at going through each of them without ever coming up for air. She would eat up book after book, memorizing nearly every single detail in her clever mind.

So far nothing had come up. She knew the words were Latin, so did Harry, but she didn't know how to translate them, and the other symbol didn't show up in any of her books. Not even in the oldest of which the pages were so faded that it was hard to read and the leather cases were peeling off little by little.

At first Harry tried to help out by going through some of the books or scribbling down notes he might think relevant, but he was jittery, his hands wouldn't stay put. He would always run them through his hair or squirm in his chair, twitching and twisting until Hermione was pulling at her hair, annoyed. Which was why she promptly called Ron and asked him to keep Harry away from her, to drag him off if needed as well.

Harry was forced to comply, of course, so he followed his ginger mate quite reluctantly. They went to play Quidditch on the Burrow's backyard with Fred and George, who had come home for a long weekend and keeping them busy was the only way they found to prevent them from pranking everyone while testing their newest creations. Or to keep them away from their mother because they had a very special ability to make Mrs. Weasley lose her temper.

As Harry was about to score another fifty points, Hermione stormed out of the house, waving around an enormous book. He wonder how she could keep the thing in the air with only one hand when she wasn't exactly the fittest of girls, but the thought was shoved into the back of his head as quickly as he lowered his broom to the ground and sprinted off, meeting her halfway.

"I found it, Harry! Look at this–" She sounded absolutely ecstatic as she nearly smashed the book on her friend's face. Harry chuckled at her enthusiasm, lowering it. "It's fantastic! Bloody fantastic!"

"Alright, just breathe and please put the book down, even I am not this blind." He smirked when she rolled her eyes – typical Hermione. Then, he took the book, scanning the faded writing and drawings, stopping at the bottom of the page when something caught my eye. "Hey – it's the symbol!"

"Yes, yes it is. It's called a triquetra, it symbolizes three different sides of the Great Mother, the creative energy of the universe – the Virgin, the Mother and the Crone."

"Yeah, yeah. Skip the History lesson, will you Hermione?"

"Honestly…" She sighed with a frown before elaborating, "as I was saying, it's a symbol related to the Great Mother, but also to an ancient great source of power. It marks the Saviour."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "The Saviour?"

"Sounds a bit silly, I know," she said with a shrug. "Well, from what I gathered, the Saviour is the most powerful being the world has ever seen, a prophesied witch who has been gifted with an immense source of magic. Some cultures call her the 'Bringer of light'. She's the only one who can save us when darkness swallows the world. The prophecy also mentions a great evil or some type of mythical catastrophe… I didn't really catch that part, it's too difficult to translate."

"The most powerful witch, huh? Wow," Harry breathed, gingerly skimming his fingers across the yellowed page, tracing the drawing of the triquetra. He felt it – a familiar tug at his heart. It made his skin tingle. Something was calling out to him, trying to draw him in.

She flipped through the book, bringing Harry out of his thoughts. "Oh! And that other marking you saw..."

"It was more of a tattoo really."

"Whatever. Here – take a look."

Upon closer inspection, he noticed Hermione's clumsy handwriting, her several attempts at translating the Latin words. "Forever Charmed..." he read.

"Exactly! And do you know what it refers to? Oh what am I asking, of course you don't! You and Ron never pay attention to anything in class," she argued. Harry shot her a glare, which she responded to with a good-natured smile. "Charmed refers to the Charmed Ones."

"Then my dream girl is a Charmed One?"

Hermione scoffed, "Oh don't be ridiculous, Harry. There are only three Charmed Ones in the world and I believe they are all probably about forty nowadays. Do you even know who they are?"

"Not exactly," he confessed, feeling only mild guilty.

"To put it simple, the Charmed Ones are the most powerful witches in the Magical Community. Impressive, huh? Which is why it's rather impossible for her to be a part of them. What I've been thinking about though, is that your 'dream girl', as you so fondly have been calling her, may very well be one of their descendants. Oh and before you ask, they live in San Francisco, California, they have been for at least three past generations."

"In America?" Harry's eyebrows met in the middle as the wheels in his head turned and reeled. "Why would I be dreaming about an American witch?"

"I don't know, Harry… maybe you should write Dumbledore and ask him. He always seems to know everything before we do," she offered sympathetically.

He nodded slowly. She did have a point. If someone could help him, it was definitely Dumbledore.