A/N: Many thanks to my betas, Jonelle and Mel! Thanks for reading and reviewing. Another author's note at the end.

Chapter 34—Outside Looking In

December 25, 1987-The Burrow

"What do you mean you see things that aren't there?" Ron's mum looked puzzled.

"Since I went to Brighton with Luna, I've been having these strange things happen to me," Ron replied, wondering if he was doing the right thing by telling his mum.

"What happened in Brighton?" Molly asked.

Ron thought back. "We had just arrived at the Wizarding West Pier. The Lovegoods and I had travelled via Floo. Almost as soon as I set foot on the pier, it felt like something pierced my eyes. Once the pain was gone, all of these images flashed in front of my eyes. Some were of people I had never seen before. Some were of the family and even of the Lovegoods."

"Why didn't you tell someone?" his mum asked.

Ron ran his fingers through his hair, trying to come up with an explanation. Rubbing his eyes, the source of the whole mess to him, he crafted a response. "I was scared that you would send me to St. Mungo's," he admitted. "I know you told me that I could always tell you anything. But, Mum, I think I must be crazy."

"Why?" Molly prodded him. "Does this have anything to do with what you thought wasn't possible?"

"Kinda. Back when Bill and Charlie left for Hogwarts, I got this thing, vision, image, whatever you want to call it of what happened in the kitchen this morning."

Ron's mum got this far-off look in her eyes. Ron thought she was thinking about something. Blinking her eyes rapidly, she turned to Ron. "Are you saying that you knew exactly what was going to happen in the kitchen this morning?"

"Yes," Ron replied before biting his upper lip. He continued to worry at it while Molly had a smile on her face that spread from ear to ear.

"It must be the Prewett gift."

"Prewett gift?" Ron parroted.

"Yes, your Aunt Nell also has the Prewett gift. It comes in many different forms. Aunt Nell has dreams about our family, which allows her to see what happened that day or will happen the next day." Her voice broke. She shuddered before continuing, "It's how we found out about your uncles Fabian and Gideon. She had a dream about them the night it happened."

"But what causes her dreams to happen? Does it just interrupt her current dream or what?" Ron demanded to know, desperate to understand this so-called "gift".

"I don't know, Ron. You'll have to ask her. I do know that my mother also had the gift, but hers was very different. She could touch people and see glimpses of their past, like little scenes playing out before her eyes."

"That's what mine is like, I think, except I see the future? Is that even possible, Mum?" Ron asked.

"With magic, almost anything is possible. Now this vision you had of this morning, did everything happen exactly the way it did in the vision?"

"No, in the vision, Bill knocked me down when he came down the stairs. But I stepped in front of the cabinet so I wouldn't get hit."

"Ah, so that was the reason. Remember how I said everything happens for a reason. Apparently the reason for your gift is so you can prevent certain things from happening."

"Mum, I had a vision- is that what I should call it?" Ron looked toward his mum. Seeing her nod, he continued, "Back in Brighton about Luna's mum. I think she got hurt or something. You said I got this gift for a reason, but how am I supposed to stop something when I don't know when it will happen, especially if I'm not even there?"

Molly grabbed Ron's chin and forced him to look at her. His eyes now had a thin ring of blue surrounding a dark black centre. She knew instinctively that his gift had been activated, but what would he see this time?

May 1988 --London

The sun had not made an appearance in several days, causing Harry to revel in its warmth while he waited for Mena outside the front doors to the school. It was lunchtime and their tradition was to always return to the orphanage for lunch. At first, it had started because neither Mena nor Harry wanted to deal with Chase during lunch. Since he typically stayed at school, Harry and Mena decided to catch the bus back to the orphanage. Later, however, it was simply a way for them to be able to spend time together. So, as usual, Harry was waiting while Mena talked to one of her many numerous friends. Harry hadn't made many friends at school since he was very shy. In fact, he didn't talk very much at school. Mena, on the other hand, could be considered a social butterfly. She had friends in all years.

Mena burst out the door, looking much like a ray of sunshine. She skipped happily over to Harry, grabbed his hand and pulled him to the bus stop. Chatting away about everything she had learned that morning, Harry just listened to his best friend and her enthusiasm. He was rather astonished that she didn't exhaust him with all of her stories, but he had to admit that he loved listening to her. Lost in his thoughts, he didn't even realize that they had made it to their stop until Mena tugged on his hand.

Once inside the building, Mena continued to make her way to the cafeteria while Harry ran up to his room for a book he needed to return to the school library that he had forgotten that morning. As he passed his floor mother's room, he saw Miss Stephens standing next to the open window. Must be taking in the sun, he thought. He dimly registered her arm stretched out the window and a big brown bird landing on it.

Whoa, wait just a minute! Did I see what I thought I saw? Harry backed up and looked into Miss Stephens' room. Yes, she was standing at the window. Her arm was not longer stretched out the window. Instead, she had pulled it close to her, but there was a large brown owl standing tamely on her arm. Her other hand was gently stroking its feathers before reaching down to take something off of its leg. It looked like a rolled up piece of paper, except that it appeared thicker than the paper he used for school. Once the owl was relieved of its burden, it flew out the window, causing Miss Stephens to exclaim, "Well, I guess they aren't expecting a response."

After he saw Miss Stephens unroll whatever it was that was in her hand, he went to his room puzzling over what he had seen. Last year in school, he had written a report about owls, so he wondered how it was that the owl was out in the daytime. According to one source he read, the owl's eye colour gave a clue about the time of day that it hunted. The owl that had landed on Miss Stephens' arm had dark brown eyes, which should have meant that it hunted at night. Still, how was it that the owl was so tame that it landed on her arm without hurting her with its talons?

September 1988--British Museum

A young brown haired girl trailed along behind the rest of her school group, looking at the sculptures from the Parthenon. She longed to run her hand over the muzzle of the horse that looked so realistic. Instead, she sighed, knowing that touching any item in the museum was grounds for expulsion from the museum. Since the girl had been looking forward to this visit for some time, she was reluctant to do anything to jeopardize her getting to see the library part of the museum. She had heard that this library was larger than the Bodleian Library at Oxford, which she loved to venture into just to absorb the smell of the books and manuscripts. In her idea of heaven, a library was almost always a main feature.

Glancing at her school group, she wondered if she should really try to catch up or not. It wasn't like anyone would even notice if she wasn't a part of the group. She might as well be invisible for all the attention she received outside of the classroom. Even in the classroom, she was only remarked upon because of her answers to the teacher's questions.

She decided to trail along with the group since she didn't know how she would make it back to Oxford if she didn't. Yet, it wasn't long until she overheard some of the other girls in her group talking about her.

"Look at that Granger girl. Wouldn't you think that she could do something about that hair? She's oh so smart about everything else in class," one girl commented.

"She can't really be that smart. After all, she hardly talks other than to answer the teacher. I don't think she has any friends whatsoever," another girl responded.

One of the others in the group looked over at Hermione and scoffed, "Look at her clothes. You would think with her parents being dentists that they could afford more fashionable clothes, but it looks like she got all hers from the Oxfam charity shop."

With that, the girls' attention snapped to the sculptures from the Mausoleum at Halikarnassos that they were now supposed to be viewing when they caught sight of their teacher looking at them very disapprovingly.

Hermione continued to slowly walk behind the group, her mind lost in thoughts of what she had overheard. With tears gathering in her eyes, she wondered why she never felt like she fit in anywhere. She was always on the outside of the group looking in. Never once was she a part of the group. She wished more than anything that she could find some friends who she could be herself with and who would understand that weird things happened around her and still like her anyway.

As she walked through the doorway leading to the world of Alexander room in the museum, her hands felt as if nails had been driven through them. The feeling of the nails disappeared only to be replaced by the sensation of an electric current travelling up her arms and into her chest. Hermione made her way to the nearest bench to catch her breath. It was such a strange feeling.

Resting her hands on the wooden bench, everything around her stopped before going in reverse, like what happened when her mum hit rewind on the VCR while the picture was still on the screen. Throwing her hands over her mouth, people, including her school group and another, started to mill around the room again. What on Earth just happened? was the thought that repeated through her mind.

A/N2: As for the second scene, I know some may be shocked that I have students leaving school for lunch, but I spent a semester in London with a practicuum in a primary school in Walthamstowe. At this school, students were allowed to go home for lunch, which is what I based this on.