Disclaimer: I own nothing and no one except Vera. She's mine. Please review.

Hermione ran to Dumbledore's staircase still in her pajama's and bare feet. She got to the gargoyle and stood shaking with shock and cold. Lemon drop. no. . . snickers? Jolly Rancher? . . . Milk dud? At milk dud the gargoyle jumped back. She was pounding on Dumbledore's door moments later.

Ah, Ms Granger. I have been expecting you. sit down. She was too overwrought to do anything except look more confused. She huddled in the chair Dumbledore indicated and almost laughed when he transfigured a pair of slippers for her (they were big pink ducks).

You were expecting me?

Yes, very much so, I'm waiting for someone else as well, he should be here momentarily.

Do you know why I'm here, then, I don't think I quite know myself?

I believe I do Ms Granger. Have you by any chance looked at your wrist? If not, I suggest you do so.

My, . . . my wrist? She looked down and gasped. Twined around her left wrist was a silver chain or cord, shimmering and beautifully detailed with runes. What is it? What's happened? And the book, the book's involved too isn't it?

The book; I knew you would understand Ms Granger. Tell me then, what do you know about Vera Nicolaievna?

Hermione bit her lip, then began in a flat voice, Vera Nicolaievna was a Russian. Current theories state that she had certain . . . possibilities . . . I was not able discover specifics. She disappeared from her school in Moscow ten years ago, she was then fifteen. . . . But professor. I don't understand. The book. My dreams. Did you . . . know?

The book. I knew, I confess, about the book. I caused Madam Pince to recommend it to you. I did not know about the dreams, but they do not surprise me.

Another knock at at the door. Loud. Almost angry.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. He has arrived and now I can explain.

~

a/n so, who should the mystery man be? Draco? Ron? Lupin? (not Harry he has enough dreams) come on I know someone cares. Please, please review and help me decide.