SECOND CHANCE

Not for the first time in the sixteen years that she had been alive, Hermione Granger woke up in the middle of the night – clutching the side of her bed and gasping for breath.

Hermione had dreamt, yet again of herself, dying. Hearing the fateful Avada Kedavra being uttered from a stranger's lips and then crumpling into a heap – dead. Though all these dreams revolved around the same plot – the death of Hermione, each took place in a different scenario. Sometimes, it was inside a locked dungeon with no escape, or in the middle of a crowded street where everyone was too busy and ignorant to worry about each other. However, each dream ended with Hermione's life flashing before her eyes and ending almost immediately.

Back in her bedroom, Hermione tried to get back to sleep, but it was impossible. She had seen herself, become the victim of a murderer's wand, trapped in a secluded chamber. Though she cried out for help again and again, wishing someone could rescue her, there was no luck. Finally after her voice gave out, hoarse from all the yelling, she sat down and waited for the worst to pass.

Hermione rolled around in her bed, trying to get the images out of her head, but was unsuccessful. Finally, she got out of bed to open the window and get her mind off the dream.

As she pushed up her blinds and fumbled with the window latch, Hermione whole-heartedly wished that she were back at Hogwarts. Back to the cosy fires of Gryffindor common-room, the magnificent Great Hall, the secluded library and to her best friends –Harry and Ron. It wasn't that she didn't love her parents. Hermione loved her mum and dad more than words could describe – but it seemed that they just didn't understand her any more. Though her mum was always there for the mother-daughter talks and her dad always cleared her doubts and fears, Hermione didn't feel as comfortable discussing her life with them, as she did before. Nowadays, she preferred keeping to herself, engrossed more than ever to study for the upcoming NEWTS.

Hermione was always happy in Hogwarts because whenever she stepped to sleep into her four poster bed in the Girl's dormitories, she never encountered any dreams. It was as though her world was finally perfect. Hermione had always kept her dreams a secret – knowing very well that if she told someone, a huge commotion would be created.

Hermione tugged open the rusty window and let the fresh night air cool her down. She took a deep breath and let the light wind play with her wavy brown hair, glad that it had finally lost its bushiness over the summer. She glanced toward the clock on her bedside table – 3.30 AM.
I reckon a nighttime stroll would do me some good. She thought.

After pulling on a pair of track pants and a shirt, she went downstairs, wrote a hurried note to her mum and went quietly out the front door. After thinking for a few seconds, she decided to go to the local park. As she walked she looked at her watch wondering what day it was.
"Thursday the 29th of July" she read out loud to herself, "I should probably send Harry something for his birthday and a note to Ron, saying…"
Here she trailed off, remembering the last few days she'd spent with Ron at Hogwarts. Harry had gone to an interschool Quidditch Tournament at Durmstrang Academy representing seeker for Hogwarts. During the seven days that Harry was away, Ron had convinced Hermione to drop her 'goody goody' acts and have some fun in the last days of being a sixth-year.

The twosome had blown dungbombs in every possible corridor – never getting caught as no one suspected the Prefect Hermione Granger to do something so childish. They had smuggled as many tricks as they could carry from Fred and George's "Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes" and used them to their fullest extent.

Hermione smiled at the memory, wondering whether they would be able to have as much fun in Seventh Year. It seemed highly doubtful…well, after the incident that took place on the last day of term…