Hermione woke up in a different bed. It was larger and softer than anything she had ever felt, but with a strange weight to the covers. She blinked, confused to see a canopy above her head, which she followed to a tall wooden post. She blinked again. She was in a proper princess bed.

She sat up and caught sight of a tapestry hanging on the far wall, ornate carved wooden dressers and shelves fitted to curved stone walls. A massive pair of double doors were closed, and then she caught sight of the boy by the window. He was silhouetted against the bright sunlight that poured through the arched stone windows.

'Wer bist du?' The boy asked, standing quickly and pointing a long wooden stick at her.

'Who are you?' She demanded in return, 'where is this?'

For a moment that both just stared at each other and the difficulty of the situation suddenly occurred to her. She was pretty sure he was speaking German, although how she'd magically moved to Germany in her sleep was a mystery. Her German from school was scratchy at best, but she decided to give it a try.

'Ich bin Hermione Granger.' She said slowly. The boy stepped down from the window and suddenly she could see his features more clearly. He wore old fashioned clothes - woollen trousers held up by bracers and a vest buttoned up over a crisp white shirt. He was pale and his hair was a honey gold. He still clutched that strange wooden stick, but he wasn't pointing it at her now.

'Was machst du in meinem Haus?' The boy demanded and she desperately tried to decipher his meaning. Haus... that was probably house, meinem meant my. He probably wanted to know how she'd ended up in his house, or why she was there, but she didn't know and she had no idea how to tell him that.

'Ich spreche Englisch.' She tried hopelessly, shrugging. The boy made a noise of realisation.

'I am Gellert Grindelwald.' He said haltingly. 'Why are you here?'

'I don't know.' Hermione said, then amended as the words came to her, 'Ich weiss night.'

'You are which.' He said, she wasn't sure if it was meant as a statement or a question, the inflection was wrong and the accent so thick that she could believe she had misunderstood.

'English.' She said it once, then tried to say it again in a German accent. The boy frowned and shook his head.

'Nein, are you a witch.' This time he was much clearer and she frowned, sure that he was joking. She gave an uncertain laugh, then paused when he didn't join in.

'What, are you a wizard?' She giggled, then coughed when he nodded seriously. 'Well, I'll be a witch then, but I don't have a wand like yours.' She declared. The boy looked puzzled as he deciphered this, and Hermione desperately tried to figure out if she could say that in German. She eventually managed to stumble out some combinations of 'ich' and 'bin' that she thought might be close and the boy smiled, relaxing considerably. She wondered if he had been nervous that she might think him weird.

'How old?' He asked curiously, looking her up and down as if hoping to guess from her appearance. She glanced down at herself, finding that she was wearing her favourite jumper and skirt.

'8' She said with some measure of pride. He was older than her she could tell, but he was very serious and in those funny old clothes he looked even older.

'Ah, you get wand soon. 10' he replied, gesturing to himself.

She wandered closer, peering out of the window behind him. This was a dream, she decided. The scenery was stunning, the building she was in was a genuine castle with turrets and walls and towers, perched on a rocky outcrop that looked over the mouth of a valley and onto a wide, flat plain. There were people working in the fields with carts pulled by actual horses. Definitely dreaming.

She'd never had a dream where she needed to speak a different language though.

So she was dreaming that she was in the past some time, and in a castle with a strange German boy who thought he was a wizard.

She spotted a thick book on the ground, heavy and leather and decorated with gold on the cover. She sidled over to it, and the boy followed her.

'Was ist das?' She asked, pointing at the lettering on the front. It was a word she didn't know.

'My family magic.' The boy replied. He picked up the book and cradled it slightly, Hermione felt a tingle of jealousy and had to remind herself it was just a dream. Of course this boy would have wonderful looking books, he was imaginary.

She didn't know how to ask if she could see it, so instead she just held her hands out and said please. The boy looked between the book and her a couple of times, then sat on the bed and patted the spot beside him. She took it, sinking into the soft mattress and he opened the book on their laps. In halting English he pointed out the spells he knew, miming those he didn't know the words for. The book was hand written in beautiful flowing calligraphy and Hermione could just imagine some medieval lady writing this beautiful script by candlelight at a desk in front of a roaring fire.

It was without a doubt the best afternoon of her life. She spent several hours sitting with Gellert and looking through the book. There were all sorts of spells, potions and even neat maps of places certain plants could be gathered. He was a good actor, and she would say the word in English when she guessed it. He would repeat the word in his strong accent, then say the word in German and she would echo him.

She didn't know if she could learn a new language in her sleep, so she suspected that the words might be gobbledegook, but it was still fun. Her imaginary friend was eager to learn, in fact they just slid into learning and teaching with no discussion.

He had other books too, all with the same beautiful leather bindings and gold decorations. Some were printed, but most were hand written. She particularly loved the moving illustrations in some of them; colourful dragons and an animal with a bird's head and horse's body that she hadn't been able to guess. Gellert had called it a hippogif.

He said he had his own Kelpe, which was a kind of horse. There were little creatures that looked like evil Christmas elves that kept his room clean like servants and fairies that were poisonous if they bit you. He also had a broomstick to fly on, although he claimed he wasn't supposed to leave his rooms. He seemed both puzzled and amused by her lack of knowledge; perhaps the only flaw in her imaginary friend was that he could be slightly snobby. She supposed she probably would be too if she lived in a castle.

The sun set as they sat on the window seat, looking out over the valley. They were silent, communication too difficult with the language difference to bother talking and breaking the tranquility. It wasn't something she found many other children her age could manage, so it was nice to just sit with someone her age to enjoy the scenery. It was, she decided, why other children couldn't read such advanced books, they couldn't enjoy sitting for a moment. Particularly not boys, she decided with distaste. Perhaps it was because he was older... not that she'd observed the characteristic in the year 6 boys at school.

A voice called her name, sounding distant and far off. She glanced around, realising it sounded like her mother. Her name was called again, and she looked around again. It sounded like the call was inside her head, she couldn't pinpoint the direction she needed to go. Gellert was looking at her strangely now, as though he couldn't hear her mother.

'I think I need to go to school.' Hermione said, 'Ich zur Schule.' She added at his incomprehension. She had the sentence wrong, but he understood because his eyes widened and he opened his mouth to reply.

She blinked and he was gone. She was back in her own bed, looking at her mother peering through the door. It was morning, weak sunlight filtering through her window. Her school uniform sat ready on her chair and the German boy was nowhere to be seen.