Part One: A Bedroom In Surrey
The room was dark, but Hermione Granger was not afraid. She was not afraid, for no matter how all-encompassing the dark would become, this room was familiar. After all, she had first found herself there at the tender age of fifteen. Hermione was not afraid, until...
"NOOOO!!!!" A flash of light and a terrible, high-pitched screaming brought Hermione crashing back into reality, where she found herself sitting rigidly upright and sweating slightly in another familiar place-- her bedroom. She had been dreaming again, only dreaming...the lights, the sounds, the smell of the place had all been in her head. Hadn't it? As she shook the sleep slowly from her eyes, she found that she was wrong. Outside, lightning was flashing furiously in the inky sky, as though making rips in its intricate velvet tapestry. She soon realized that the screaming, too, had not been entirely a figment of her subconscious, for as she pulled back the cream-colored sheets of her bed, a tiny girl came bounding into the room, latching herself quickly to Hermione's thigh.
"Mum," she cried softly, burying her face in the dream-cushioned sheets. "Mum, I'm scared."
Slowly, Hermione's mind registered the scene. She was here, in her bedroom in Surrey, alone, save for the tiny girl at her bedside. "Lily," she said quietly, reaching out to the mop of curls atop the child's head. "Did the lightning scare you?"
"No," said the girl, whimpering as she slowly pulled her face from the covers to peer into her mother's eyes. "I...I had a bad dream."
"Bad dream?" Hermione cooed soothingly. "Well, why don't you come up here and tell me about it? It'll help to make it less scary." She smiled, and the girl obeyed.
"Well..." Lily began, tucking her blonde head under her mother's arm as she spoke, "I'm not quite sure where I was, but I know that it was an awful sort of place. Dark and dank and really foul-smelling. But I felt like I'd been there before. And I wasn't afraid, until..."
Hermione swallowed hard in an attempt to shut out all thoughts of the "until" in her own dream. "Until what?"
"I heard a scream." said Lily, cowering, almost, at the sound of her own voice forming the words, as if she, too, might scream at any moment. "It was a dreadful sound, and it gave me such a fright, and then...then you were there. But you were young, like in school, sort of. And you were with these other lads; I don't suppose I've ever seen them before. But the look on your face, Mum...you were dead scared!"
Her breath quickening as panic ran cold through her blood, Hermione did her best to reply calmy and evenly. "You were screaming, love."
But the little girl persisted. "I know. I know, Mum. Because I was scared for you...this other man, he didn't look very friendly at all, and I thought he might...well, the way you were looking at him, he--"
"Other man?"
"Yes. There was another man there, a very dodgy looking one, and he kept laughing and laughing, and then he said something I couldn't understand, raised up his hand, and--"
"What?" Her teeth now chattering with nerves, Hermione lashed out in the hopes of one last chance to return her daughter's story from where she feared it might be going. "What did he do?"
"He shot out this...this light! Right out of his hand, Mum! And he knocked the three of you-- you and your mates, I mean-- right up into the air! It was like you were flying or something for a moment. And then..." The child called Lily burst into sobs, never to finish her story. But Hermione didn't need to hear the end to know the outcome. She had, after all, lived it, and could not only recount the rest of the story but could also fill in the gaps left by things her daughter hadn't mentioned and, hopefully, hadn't seen at all. But she would do neither. Instead, she simply said, "Don't be daft, Lily. You know perfectly well that people can't...fly."
The room was dark, but Hermione Granger was not afraid. She was not afraid, for no matter how all-encompassing the dark would become, this room was familiar. After all, she had first found herself there at the tender age of fifteen. Hermione was not afraid, until...
"NOOOO!!!!" A flash of light and a terrible, high-pitched screaming brought Hermione crashing back into reality, where she found herself sitting rigidly upright and sweating slightly in another familiar place-- her bedroom. She had been dreaming again, only dreaming...the lights, the sounds, the smell of the place had all been in her head. Hadn't it? As she shook the sleep slowly from her eyes, she found that she was wrong. Outside, lightning was flashing furiously in the inky sky, as though making rips in its intricate velvet tapestry. She soon realized that the screaming, too, had not been entirely a figment of her subconscious, for as she pulled back the cream-colored sheets of her bed, a tiny girl came bounding into the room, latching herself quickly to Hermione's thigh.
"Mum," she cried softly, burying her face in the dream-cushioned sheets. "Mum, I'm scared."
Slowly, Hermione's mind registered the scene. She was here, in her bedroom in Surrey, alone, save for the tiny girl at her bedside. "Lily," she said quietly, reaching out to the mop of curls atop the child's head. "Did the lightning scare you?"
"No," said the girl, whimpering as she slowly pulled her face from the covers to peer into her mother's eyes. "I...I had a bad dream."
"Bad dream?" Hermione cooed soothingly. "Well, why don't you come up here and tell me about it? It'll help to make it less scary." She smiled, and the girl obeyed.
"Well..." Lily began, tucking her blonde head under her mother's arm as she spoke, "I'm not quite sure where I was, but I know that it was an awful sort of place. Dark and dank and really foul-smelling. But I felt like I'd been there before. And I wasn't afraid, until..."
Hermione swallowed hard in an attempt to shut out all thoughts of the "until" in her own dream. "Until what?"
"I heard a scream." said Lily, cowering, almost, at the sound of her own voice forming the words, as if she, too, might scream at any moment. "It was a dreadful sound, and it gave me such a fright, and then...then you were there. But you were young, like in school, sort of. And you were with these other lads; I don't suppose I've ever seen them before. But the look on your face, Mum...you were dead scared!"
Her breath quickening as panic ran cold through her blood, Hermione did her best to reply calmy and evenly. "You were screaming, love."
But the little girl persisted. "I know. I know, Mum. Because I was scared for you...this other man, he didn't look very friendly at all, and I thought he might...well, the way you were looking at him, he--"
"Other man?"
"Yes. There was another man there, a very dodgy looking one, and he kept laughing and laughing, and then he said something I couldn't understand, raised up his hand, and--"
"What?" Her teeth now chattering with nerves, Hermione lashed out in the hopes of one last chance to return her daughter's story from where she feared it might be going. "What did he do?"
"He shot out this...this light! Right out of his hand, Mum! And he knocked the three of you-- you and your mates, I mean-- right up into the air! It was like you were flying or something for a moment. And then..." The child called Lily burst into sobs, never to finish her story. But Hermione didn't need to hear the end to know the outcome. She had, after all, lived it, and could not only recount the rest of the story but could also fill in the gaps left by things her daughter hadn't mentioned and, hopefully, hadn't seen at all. But she would do neither. Instead, she simply said, "Don't be daft, Lily. You know perfectly well that people can't...fly."