Disclaimer: None of the characters in this fic are mine. They were all created by J.K. Rowling and are the property of her and Warner Bros.

CHAPTER ONE




HERMIONE

Hermione fingered the chain on her neck. She smiled, and thought of the events that had occurred in the past year. Strange... she thought. She could almost hear bells ringing- softly, somewhere in the distance. She murmured to herself, and then, as if in a trance, she walked out of the room.
She could feel her feet moving of their own accord. They were taking her somewhere- where? She didn't know. There was a longing, a burning deep inside her for something. What? She didn't know that either. Confused, she watched her feet as they took her somewhere, somewhere...
Hermione Granger awoke, panting. She was a girl of 16 with bushy brown hair and brown eyes. The cleverest witch in her year, she was sensible, practical, and always reading. However, a dream of this sort was the type of thing that troubled her.
She wasted no time in heading to the library, though it was very early in the morning. She knew that she wouldn't be able to go back to sleep if she were to try, and anyway, she was not the type to waste time sleeping when there was important research to be done. It wasn't exactly that the dream itself had been so important, but the feeling that came with it had been indescribable- full of meaning.

The library was dimly lit, but she could just barely make out the names of the books. Hermione searched. After what seemed like hours, she found the right one: Dream Interpretations, it was called, by Briareus Gooseshackle.

LUNA

Luna Lovegood looked at her watch. It was almost noon, and he still hadn't come. Neville had been supposed to meet her there at 11:00, but he must have forgotten, as he often did. She sighed. It was hard having a boyfriend who didn't remember you from one moment to the next, even if he was very sweet.
Her shoulders drooping, she headed back into the castle, thinking about Neville Longbottom. At the end of his fifth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, he had asked her out, and being the dreamy and romantic sort of person that she was, she had accepted. Perhaps a more practical girl than she would have turned him down, knowing it was to turn out less than perfect, but Luna had never been asked out before. She knew she was not in any position to refuse an offer.
Her whole life, people had made fun of her. "Loony Lovegood", they called her. It hadn't been easy, but as the insults got much worse, she had learnt not to care. She had created a sheltered little world of her own in which to live, and became almost unaware of the goings-on in the outside world from day to day. Now suddenly, as adolescence came her way, she had been jolted back to reality. It hadn't been pleasant.

HARRY

"Stop it, Ron!" Harry Potter laughed, pushing his best friend away. Harry was a short, skinny boy with jet-black hair that could never be kept tidy, and bottle green eyes. But of all his physical attributes the one that stood out the most was the lightning shaped scar on his forehead.
Today, he was sitting in the Gryffindor common room with his best friend, Ronald Weasley. The two were playing wizard's chess, and as usual, Ron was beating Harry.
"Should I move there, and sacrifice my bishop for a rook, or..."
"Bad move! Look, this is where you should have gone..."
"But if I do that won't I..."
"Ha! Got your queen!"
"Why do I even bother playing this with you? You're so bloody good..."
As the people in the common room left to go to lunch, Harry watched, and then, when he was sure the only two in the room were Ron and himself, he pushed the chessboard away.
"What did you do that for?" Ron asked loudly, annoyed. Harry shushed him.
"I have to show you something," was all he would say.

The boys walked over to the fire and Harry pulled out his wand.
"Gionotium!" He whispered. Bright purple sparks flew from the end of his wand into the flames. Words appeared in the fire:

If werewolf turns to face the moon,
After the time when stag I did slay,
Two marauders there are left,
And Deradril's founders waste away.