Chapter 3: I'll See You in My Dreams

I was making brownies. It was Mystic's third birthday, and I was making her brownies. She was sitting in the living room where I could see her over the kitchen counter, reading.

It only slightly bothered me that she could read, but not talk yet. She hadn't grown much, either, and was dwarfed by the other children. She seemed to get along with them well enough, though, and this time of day she often sat on the sidewalk with her friend, Gloria, and drew with chalk. Gloria's mother and I would take turns watching the girls.

"You want to go down with Gloria now?" I asked, pouring the batter into a pan.

She nodded, and I bent over to slip the pan into the oven.

I looked up, just in time to see Mystic jump out of the window of our third story apartment.

I think my heart stopped.

When it began to beat again, it was tattooing a rapid rhythm against my ribs, and I ran over to the window, looking down, knowing what I'd find…

And not finding it.

Mystic was drawing a giraffe in pink chalk, and Gloria was giving it wings. Mystic looked up, grinned, and waved at me.

I waved back weakly and sat down.

I figured that I must have been going insane.

It seemed that there were more and more…strange things happening to Mystic.

I tried to push the thoughts away, but after that display, I knew that I could no longer ignore it.

She was tiny. Unnaturally small. And she hadn't begun to talk. Yet, she could understand and even read perfectly. And how she had never cried…

But those could all be explained by some scientific rationalization. It was the other things that worried me.

The fact that sometimes, when I asked Mystic if she wanted something—a glass of lemonade, a book, a cookie--, she'd nod, and I'd turn my back to retrieve the item. When I turned around again, she'd already have it.

I felt a tear slither down my cheek as I wished that Charlie was there for me to talk to.

I quickly redirected my thoughts back to the problem at hand. Deranged thoughts began running through my head. Was this like The Exorcist? Was I going to have to stretch my daughter out on a stone altar and decapitate her, or something?

I shook my head, and went to check on the brownies.

That night, I crept into Mystic's room and looked at her. Her tiny form seemed to be engulfed by the twin bed, and looking at the calm smile on her tiny lips, I knew that whatever my daughter was, it wasn't evil.

I tip-toed over to her, and carefully curled up around her. She opened her eyes drowsily, gave me one of her dazzling smiles, and returned to her dreams.

As I fell asleep, I felt as if my problems were being absorbed by my daughter.

I was in a meadow. It was a beautiful spring day. Poofy white clouds, glorious sun…the works. I was sitting on a red and white-checkered cloth, sipping lemonade and watching Mystic leaping around trying to catch grasshoppers.

Suddenly a form emerged from the trees surrounding the clearing I was centered in.

I couldn't make out who it was, because the figure was walking from the direction of the sun.

When he got close enough to make out, my breath hitched. "Charlie." I murmured.

My mind almost returned to consciousness at this point out of strict shock. In the three years since his death, I'd never once dreamed of him. I once heard that if you think about something too much, you won't dream about it. Likewise, if you see something just in passing, it'll play a major role in your dream. I knew that I had thought about Charlie that day…this seemed so real.

"Hey Gyp!" He said. I realized that I had stood up and put down my lemonade, and he took advantage of my position to bring me into a big hug, pick me up, and spin me around.

"I've missed you so much." He murmured into my ear as he set me down. I found myself utterly speechless.

"Daddy!" Mystic spoke in my dream. She launched herself at her father, and he spun her around too.

"Go play—we'll talk later. I need to talk with your mother now." Mystic nodded readily and ran off again.

I sank down to the ground.

"Gypsy…I don't know how much you know."

I looked up at him. "Charlie, I…I feel more lucid than I've ever felt in a dream before. As in, there aren't giant ketchup bottles floating around, and I know that it's a dream. And I've never dreamt about you. I don't know what's going on."

"Right…so you don't know. Let me explain. First of all, you should know that this is real. Sort of. You see—no, I'll get there later. Let's start at the beginning, shall we?" He sat down next to me, and I leaned into him out of an old habit. Out of the same habit, he put his arm around me. "I've missed this so much." He murmured, before continuing. "Gypsy, I didn't graduate from Oxford; I didn't even go to university. I attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

Now I knew that it was a dream, for despite my better judgment, a part of me had wanted to believe Charlie when he had told me that this meeting was a reality.

I decided to continue to enjoy his touch, so I stroked his arm. "Of course you did." I said softly.

He sighed, and ran his hand through his hand, frustrated. "No, Gyp, you don't get it. I'm serious. I was a wizard. There's a whole other world on earth—one of magic, with witches and wizards."

"Charlie, you were a CEO." I said calmly, reaching up to stroke his cheek.

He leaned into my touch, and for a moment, I thought I'd succeeded in dissipating this ridiculous talk. Then I felt him shake his head. "Gypsy." He said my name firmly, as he used to when he was trying to tell me something important. "I graduated from Hogwarts, and then I worked in Romania, with dragons." Riiiiiight. "The wizarding world was then torn by war. I was on the good side. Then, someone very close to me was killed. I foreswore the war and wizardry, and severed all of my connections by just up and moving to America one day. I got a job, ran into a beautiful muggle, and it seemed as though I was successful in separating myself from my old life. Then, the night of our daughter's birth, I was getting into the car when the people on the other side of the war found me. I apparated—um…teleported, if you will,myself back to our apartment, and they followed and killed me."

I figured that my subconscious had been taking illicit substances behind my back.

"Gypsy, I know you don't believe me, but in the morning, you're going to be holding some directions. I need you to them with Mystic. For her safety. If you want more proof, look in my desk, and you'll find a piece of wood broken in half—that was my wand."

I was starting to believe some of this insanity—Charlie sounded so sincere. I turned my head and kissed him, and into that kiss we put all of the passion and longing that had built up from three years of separation.

We pulled back, and at this point I was completely immersed in the dream. Nothing my subconscious came up with could come close to that kiss. I believed it.

"Where do you-" I grappled for a word. Obviously 'live' wouldn't suit. "--stay now?" I asked him.

"Here." He replied, tucking one of my loose curls behind my ear. "I'm waiting for you two to join me—then I'll be in heaven." He smiled.

His smile, of course, reminded me of Mystic, and I looked over at my daughter.

"She visits every night." He said, noticing the direction of my gaze.

"Does she talk to you?" I asked, trying to remember if I'd heard her say 'Daddy' at the beginning of my dream.

"Yes. She tells me everything. I always want to know more, though." He kissed me lightly. "She's a special witch. I'm sure Dumbledore will be able to tell you about the nature of her powers."

"She's a witch too?" I asked faintly.

Charlie's brow furrowed. "There's so much I should have told you."

And I woke up.

I sat straight up. I looked down at my daughter, and seeing the complacent smile that adorned her features, wondered if she was still in the field with her father.

I shook my head. That was nonsense! It was impossible! What the hell had I put in those brownies?

I got up and walked into the living room, and realized that I was clutching something.

I opened my hand and saw, in Charlie's unmistakable penmanship, directions to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Author's Note:

Hey! I really liked this chapter, because it confronts something that's always bothered me: muggle parents' reactions to early signs in magical children! I mean, if I had a kid who started pulling a Neville and bouncing down the street, you could bet your skittles I'd be on the phone with animal control before he bounced back into the house! Well, in any case, thank you so much for reading this; it's an idea that I've been toying with for a while, and as I think the story is rather original, it's really special to me! Thanks again!

Review Replies:

TheDarkLadyOfRavenclaw-Thank you so much for reviewing! I hope that you enjoyed this chapter! It always bothered me too that there seemed to be only the one side with muggle-born students. In fact, it really seems that they get the really bad end of the stick--take Hermione, for example! She's never at her parent's house, but instead almost always with Ron and Harry! I always felt bad for those dentists...Well, thanks again for reviewing!