Hi! So, if you've been reading AMM, I mentioned an idea I was distracted with. Well, this is it! Er, one of them, anyway.

Hope I don't disappoint.

This is sort of a tie-in to my HP fic Discoveries, but it can stand alone, I guess. Albeit reading my other one may reduce confusion. (Hint hint. ;) )

SPOILER FOR OTHER FIC! This chapter takes place around the same time as my other HP fanfic, just a few days after Emily found out she can jump between our universe and the HP universe. She may show or tell Willow, but I don't think so. Later, maybe. SPOILER DONE!

I know this looks like a Pokemon fic at first. Bare with me, this really is how I got the idea, and I didn't know how else to start.

Oh, this starts out in my OC's POV.

Italics, while Willow is asleep in the beginning of this chapter, is the dream. Afterwards, it's thoughts.

Disclaimer: Me no own Harry Potter.

Willow's POV

I woke up partially as I registered my mum calling my name. I smiled softly, glad she had remembered to wake me up at 6:00 like I had asked, but still reluctant to get up yet, and knowing my dream was nearly over, I fell back asleep...

Falling back into my dream body, which for some peculiar reason appeared to be Ash Ketchum, I watched the Pokeball I had just thrown before being woken. The pokemon inside, of which I have no clue what it was, was fighting to get out, and fighting hard.

As it did that, I used my peripheral vision to see what was going on. Pikachu, Misty and Brock were fighting Team Rocket, who yet again had showed up with some sort of rubber-coated Pokemon catcher.

Finally, Pikachu found a place where the (ridiculously thin) rubber had torn, and shot a bolt of electricity at it. The device exploded and Team Rocket was sent flying, and, although I couldn't hear them, I knew what they were yelling. "Looks like Team Rocket's blasting off again!"

Suddenly, as the Pokeball returned to normal, signaling the pokemon was caught, I felt dizzy, tired, and slightly unsteady on my feet. I looked up and saw a giant piece of metal, presumably from Team Rocket's machine, come flying at me.

As it hit me, knocking me down and trapping me in the process, I heard an odd, yet familiar, combination of three voices directed at me.

Familiar because I've heard it countless times.

Odd because it's never been directed at me. Or any real person.

"Ash!"

"Ash!"

"Pikapi!"

Suddenly I was jolted awake, looking up at the clock again. 6:01. Hmmm. Only been a minute. I thought.

Suddenly, something almost like a movie came to my head. It looked like a third-person view of where my dream had left off. Brock, Misty and Pikachu were running towards

Ash, still unconscious and trapped under the three of them were trying to pry it off and, when they did, noticed that Ash's hat had fallen off, revealing a strange red gash that, though it looked fresh, wasn't bleeding.

In fact, other than the fact that he was unconscious and lightly bruised, Ash looked fine.

As it ended, I sat up. "Ok, that was... weird. But a good story idea. I mean, what if it were still going? Like I just imagined, but past that?"

As I thought of that little "theory," I added little details and jotted it down in my notebook real quick before getting up, stretching, brushing my hair (that still looked messy nonetheless) and starting downstairs.

On the way down, I started smiling softly as I used it to make a little Pokemon story plot, but my smile grew as my latest fandom, Harry Potter, came to mind, and I altered it to fit that.

I sat down, still smiling, at the kitchen table, where my mum was making eggs and pancakes. She heard me and turned, beaming in return when she saw me.

"Well, someone's happy today! I wonder why?" She said in mock wonder.

While she was doing that, I just kept smiling.

My mum's amazing. We're practically the same height, about 5'1", though I'm a little taller. She has light brown hair about to her chin, a solid frame, dark brown eyes and wire glasses. I'm always being told we look alike, but I don't see it. My hair is certainly leaning more towards dark red, I have bright green eyes and a sprinkling of freckles. I guess people refer to the similar frame, though I'm a bit more slender and flexible, as well as the dark eyebrows, thick eyelashes, we're both naturally a light tan, and the fact our cheeks are always lightly pink, as well as our lips. All in all, I guess it's the whole natural-makeup-look (neither me nor my mum touch the stuff), tan skin and frame that makes us appear to look alike, but I rather like it.

All that had run through my head, for whatever reason, a few seconds before mum finished her fake thinking.

"Ok, I think I've got it. Is it because it's a Saturday, it's your birthday, your cousin's coming over, or you got another story idea?"

She knew it was all of the above, but she had missed out on a part.

I fake yawned, feigning boredom to hide my excited face to see her reaction. "A little of all, though for the story idea, it's currently more in the 'theory' stage. I'll explain it later, when Emily and Dad get home."

Mum grinned before what I had said soaked in, helped along by my grin, and she gaped at me, spatula still in her hand.

I couldn't help it. I started laughing. Of course, I took a quick picture on my phone before I fell off the chair.

"Oh sweet Merlin!" I gasped, barely audible, from my place on the tile floor, pointing at her and rolling around a little. "You should see your face, it's bloody hilarious!"

She finally snapped her mouth shut when I calmed down enough to say, "Mum, close your mouth. You'll catch flies."

I gave her my signature sweet-yet-cheeky smile at her embarrassed expression, still on the tile, which was surprisingly comfortable.

She turned back to the stove to get the food off before it burned, and I got back into my chair, albeit reluctantly. That tile really is comfortable.

After she did that, turned off the stove, and had put the food down, she looked at me and asked, "How did you know your dad was coming home today?"

She had, apparently, forgotten I'd watched Sherlock the night before. (Yes, it's PG14. Yes, I was only turning 11 that day. I'm rather mature for 11-years-old.)

"Well..." I started in my best Sherlock-deduction-style voice and did my signature grin again at my mum's sarcastic groan. "You've rarely been seen without a smile for the past week, you're just generally more happy than normal, you keep glancing at the clock, phone, and calendar, which had a 'D' on today, July 1st to be specific, and you look like me when a new episode of Dragons: Riders of Berk or something is coming out soon. Plus," I added, rubbing the back of my head sheepishly. "I may or may not have heard eavesdropped on you guys Skyping last night."

"But that at was 11:30!"

"Yeah..."

"Willow Maya Mercer, I outta slug you." She lightly swatted the back of my head and we laughed.

"I shouldn't have let you watch Sherlock the other day." Mum said as she sat down. She too knew about the little extra-observant side-effect that seems to come with watching it, along with the even-faster-than-normal talking and an odd hyperness. (I don't get hyper very often, and when I do it's not because of sugar or caffeine or something.)

I shrugged as if to say. "Yeah, but you did."

Apparently I have very good timing, because just as I had rinsed my syrupy dishes off, put them in the sink, and dried my hands, I heard the barely-audible sound of footsteps in the living room.

Knowing who it was, I snuck up to the doorway and hid, jumping out just when my cousin got close enough to hug.

"Yeep!" She yelped, surprised, before hugging me back and laughing, purposely making her long, dark brown hair tickle my nose.

She pulled away and ruffled my already-crazy shoulder length, dark red hair. "Jeez, what'd you brush your hair with? An eggbeater?" She laughed.

"You should talk." I laughed, pointing out her hair, which is nearly identical to mine except that it's dark, dark, brown. Almost black.

In fact, we look a lot alike, especially when her eyes decide to change to bright, vivid green with warm brown spikes going around the pupil, practically identical to mine. Same frame, same tan, freckles, nearly the same height (I'm a few inches shorter), identical hair style (minus the color), same relaxed, tomboy look, tomboyish attitude, fangirl-y tendence (when it comes to Harry Potter, Percy Jackson, stuff like that.), and smarts. Heck, even our glasses and rubber bands on our braces look the same!

People have mistaken us as twins when we were at the bookstore, despite the fact that I was ten (nearly eleven!) at the time and her thirteen (barely! She wasn't too happy at officially reaching teenagehood). They simply assumed (as they told us) that one of us had dyed our hair. We were both really happy with that.

Anyway, after I pointed out her hair, she simply chuckled and ask, "Hey, have you checked your mailbox yet?"

"Nope. Waiting for you!"

"Whoa whoa whoa, wait a second." Mum called.

"Yes mum?" Emily asked sweetly. She will blatantly refuse to call her "Aunt Violet."

She smiled. "What's in the mailbox that has you two so excited?"

"Well..." Emily said, copying my Sherlock-deduction-voice and winking at me as mum did her sarcastic groan again. "Willow's turning eleven, right?"

"Yeah, why?" Mum asked cautiously.

"That's the age where people get their letters to go to Hogwarts, of course!" She said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

I guess I don't really need to add that she was the one to get me into Harry Potter a few months ago. Or that I've already finished the series three times over. But I just did, so we'll stick with that.

We ran out to the mailbox and, although I knew it was just a card from my cousin, I beamed when I got out the heavy, yellowish parchment envelope, addressed to me (even specifying where by bedroom was!) in bright emerald-green ink.

Looking at the fancy lettering, I remembered the quill and ink I had gotten Em for her birthday.

We walked back inside, Em's arm around my shoulders, and I opened it. There was an exact copy of the student letter and list of school supplies, as well as a "private note from Dumbledore" that was actually the card. I read through it and gave my cousin another hug, but we were both laughing the entire time.

"Seriously, how cool would it be if I were actually starting school at Hogwarts?" I said.

"Past cool. That'd be bloody amazing! I mean, really, my little cousin, a witch?" Emily replied, ruffling my hair again. My scathing fake glare was ruined by the fact that I still couldn't stop smiling.

The day from there was a typical birthday. My dad came home, we went to a restaurant of my choice (The Village Inn. Seriously, that place is awesome!) for dinner, came home, had some chocolate ice cream cake, opened presents (some books, a few movies, a Ravenclaw blanket [both Emily and I are Ravenclaws on Pottermore. It explains a lot and we were incredibly happy with that], and a wand that was designed like the one it said I'd have on Pottermore, which is 14 1/2 inches, unicorn hair core, dogwood, hard and not really all that straight, and a bunch of other stuff, a few included stuff way too girly for my taste), etc.

We were about to start watching the Prisoner of Azkaban (my favorite Harry Potter book, but I had yet to see the movie) when mum brought up the fact that I had said I'd explain the theory I had mentioned when Emily and dad got here.

Said people leaned forwards in interest. Emily and I are sort of famous in our family for interesting or amusing theories and story ideas.

So I told them, starting from the dream, and generally following my trail of thought to get to it.

When I finished, I opened my eyes, not noticing until then I had closed them, and looked around.

Emily looked thoughtful, rubbing her ever-present necklace like she does whenever she's thinking or bored. She looked like she might seriously be considering the possibility of my "dream theory," as I had started calling it, and when she saw me looking at her she smiled.

My parents, on the other hand, looked shocked.

"What?" I said impatiently.

They shook themselves out of their apparent trance and looked at me embarrassedly.

"Nothing." Dad laughed. He always seems to laugh stuff off.

"Just that," Mum continued, "well, that's a little... weird, to say the least, unexpected to say the most."

"Thanks!" I chirped brightly. I quite honestly loved that reaction. Weird? Unusual? Unexpected? Expected of someone older or less down to earth (which for some reason people think I'm basically grounded but couldn't be more wrong)? Nerdy or geeky? All of the above are my specialty, especially the weirding-people-out part (though it's not necessarily on purpose... most of the time) and are regarded as the ultimate compliments in my book.

Anyway, with that out of the way, we started the movie, Emily and I commenting pretty often.

By the end, I was basically thinking what I had with the first two movies (and most books-gone-movie): Meh, the book was waaaay better.

After Em and I had played around on the guitar for awhile (her playing and singing and me joining in, since I can't play,) we dragged ourselves upstairs. It was about 2:00 AM.

I turned on my lamp, grabbed my PJs, as did Em, and we turned away from each other to put them on.

When we finished, we said, "One, two, three!" and spun around simultaneously and started scrutinizing each others pyjamas, following our usual joking routine. Even though we had a pretty good idea what the others were; we didn't really wear any others unless they were being washed.

Mine consisted of a white short-sleeved shirt with a small, cartoon frog on the front and it read, "I'm a little bit country." Below that was a radio station name. On the back was a cartoon bee and it read, "and a little bit rock 'n' roll," also followed by a radio station. The bottoms were thin, light, and a soft, light blue, going down slightly past my ankles and covered with white cheetah spots rimmed in dark grey, a matching grey to the thick draw-string.

Emily's was her mom's- my Aunt Nancy and my mum's sister- oversized, baggy, bright rainbow tie-dye shirt that swirled to the middle and, like mine, thin and light, slightly baggy, light blue pants (brighter shade than mine) that stopped just a over her ankles, with a narrow draw-string at the top and had a ring of pink and white at the bottom of the legs.

Both of us were barefoot. We hate socks and shoes, but we'll deal with them if we have to.

We met each other's gaze and laughed. Since we had brushed our teeth before the movie, we headed over to my moderately-sized, green sheeted bed in the corner of my room, pushed against the wall on the side and head and by an overstuffed bookshelf.

Emily sat on the edge. I simply collapsed onto it and flopped face-first onto my brown Egyptian-material (whatever that means) covered pillow.

Em chuckled. "Jeez, Will, you'd think you hadn't slept in days!"

I turned my head towards her. "Well, first of all, doing that's fun, plus I've only been officially eleven for a few hours, not to mention I've been up since 6:00 this morning, it's currently 2:00 the next, and you are way too good at wrestling, and me way too stubborn to go down without a fight." I replied, grinning tiredly.

Brief POV change to Emily. Spoiler to other fic in second paragraph!

I laughed at my little cousin's tired response. Then my mind went back to her theory.

I looked down and started to mention it, figuring I could tell her about how I can jump to the HP universe basically at will, and maybe even take her with, but stopped myself when I noticed she was fast asleep, curled up with her back to the dark blue wall.

Smiling what I'm guessing was a ridiculously fond smile (I couldn't help it! She looks so peaceful and innocent when she's asleep!), I pulled up the green down quilt, got under it, collapsed onto my light-teal-cased pillow (she's right, it is fun! I thought) and pulled it over the two of us, turning off the green lamp (she sure has a lot of green stuff) and looking at the glow-in-the-dark stars Willow will absolutely refuse to take down, before rolling over so I was facing her and got comfortable.

By way of my typical method to get to sleep, I started thinking. But instead of my usual entertaining storyline, however, I kept contemplating the "dream theory," as I noticed she had started calling it.

After all, I thought, If I can jump across universes, who's to say Willow's wrong? I thought just before I fell asleep.

Back to Willow.

I was pretty darn positive I had just fallen asleep next to my cousin and basically my best friend, but after this odd plunging-into-a-dark-cool-pool sensation, like in the first book of Narnia, I opened my eyes and found myself in a dark, dirty, store-lined... alley, I guess. Looking around a little more, I noticed I was getting a few odd... no, sinister, looks; people in robes who looked as shady as the alley. They bumped into me roughly as they passed.

I looked down. I had on dark blue jeans and a deep purple hoodie that I had never seen before, as well as my black-and-teal tennis shoes. My glasses were back on, though I was sure I had taken them off, and I had a yellowish, heavy parchment envelope in my hand, with my name and address on it. A... Hogwarts letter?!

I stuffed the letter into my hoodie pocket and pushed my hands into my jeans pockets by way of habit and gasped. Closing my fist and bringing my hand out, I opened it and practically gaped. For whatever reason, it was filled with golden galleons, silver sickles, bronze knuts, the odd U.S $10 bill, and I'm pretty sure there were some drachmas mixed in.

Putting them back, I caught sight of a sign a few yards ahead, by a rusty- but elaborately patterned- gate that lead to a bright, crowded cobblestone road bordered by shops.

It read Knockturn Alley. The one next to it read Diagon Alley.

For a few seconds, my mind was stuck on one thought: What the bloody shell is going on here?!

Well, hope you liked it! Sorry for any odd/odd usage of vocab. Not British, but I somehow got into the habit of saying and writing mum and bloody, not to mention a fangirl (the shell part is TMNT, if you didn't know) plus I accidentally make up words for a language my friend likes to call Germish. Scientifical and fictionous are two such words. :) (I was trying to say fictitious!)

I know it's kind of slow, but it's picking up. Please please please let me know if you like it! And if you want, check out my other HP story, Discoveries. I swear, Emily will be mentioned a bit, so this will make more sense if you know the references. Also, part of the next chapter will also be on Discoveries, just because it fits too well to be ignored.

Reviews and PMs are welcome! (Unless you're cussing me out for something!)