Disclaimer: I don't own any of this. It belongs to J.K. Rowling

Chapter 2

I had strange dreams.

They were darkly vivid dreams, of a hooded man in black with a scythe and a glass of bourbon. A girl stood at his side, with hair the color of fire and freckles over her nose. She wore a black dress down to the floor, but I could see her pale toes peeking out from the fabric. She looked sad.

We stood in a room of ten doors, each with a different knob. The two figures faced me, in the center of the room. The floor was marble, reflecting the ten doors. Behind one door, the color of onyx, I could see green light flickering. It escaped through the cracks around the door, lighting up the room around me.

"Don't let him catch you," the girl whispered. A tear rolled down her cheek. "Don't let him catch you. He caught the last one."

That was when I woke up in the same white, sunny room as before. This time, there was no one to greet me but an unconscious boy to my left and a mouse scurrying across the floor.

My throat was dry and felt as if someone had decided it needed a sandpaper massage, but I didn't want to touch the tall glass of water on my bedside table for fear that it was a potion. I considered going to sleep again, but I didn't want to see the scythe-man again, so I instead settled for looking out of the large windows. I probably should've felt some sort of emotion right now. I mean, this was either some huge prank, I was dying/in a coma/asleep, or I was actually in the Harry Potter world. Choice number two seemed the most likely. Did that mean that I had just had a dream inside of a dream? Anyway, I could either act like the characters were actually the characters or I could try to call them out for pranking me. They probably already thought I was crazy anyway.

After a few minutes of unsuccessful attempts at decision-making, I gave up and came to the conclusion that even if I made a decision now, I probably wouldn't stick with it when it came time for me to act a certain way. I was fickle like that.

I glanced down and absentmindedly flecked a piece of lint off of the bed. Thankfully, I was in the clothes that I last remembered wearing: a pleated skirt, mock turtleneck, and sheer black tights. I was glad that some random wizard hadn't magicked me into new clothes. My stomach rumbled and I realized just how hungry I was. How long had I been asleep? It felt like a while, but it couldn't have been too long, right?

Experimentally, I stood up on unsteady feet and walked forward a couple of paces. The floor was warm where the sun had touched it, and my tight-covered feet looked strange against the antique tiles. I looked for my shoes, platform oxfords, around me and found them slightly under the bed. I slipped them on and cautiously walked towards Madam Pomfrey's door. There was no movement behind the frosted glass on the door, and I was secretly hoping that she wasn't in her office so that I would have an excuse not to talk to anyone for a while. I knocked on the wooden part of the door and bit my lip when it opened. Madam Pomfrey saw me standing and tutted disapprovingly.

"You shouldn't be up, dear. You went through quite the fall. And to think that Professor Dumbledore allowed you to be questioned with Veritaserum!" She Hmph'd and started to guide me back to the bed. I didn't really feel like going back in that bed, in part because of my monstrously hungry stomach and because if I lay down again, I would most likely be haunted by the same nightmares as before.

"I'm hungry," I said bluntly. Normally, I would have added an "if you don't mind" or "not to bother you," but this situation wasn't normal and I was pissed at the professors' behavior earlier and I was still convinced this was a dream (the nightmare must have been a dream inside of a dream!) so what did a little bit of rudeness matter?

"Of course you are, dear. Take a seat on your bed and I'll fetch you a meal," the nurse-figure said.

"How long was I asleep?" I asked curiously.

"Five days. I had to give you a potion to keep you from getting too hungry, but that was three days ago."

What. The. Hell. Five days? That was a long time to be asleep or unconscious or whatever the heck I had been. Startled, I tripped over the edge of a tile and went sprawling on the floor. Wincing, I rubbed my back. More painful was the realization that this could possibly, maybe not be a big dream. If I could feel pain here…

"Be careful," Madam Pomfrey warned me, helping me to my feet. She shot a disapproving look at my shoes but I ignored it and took a seat at the edge of the mattress. She turned and disappeared out of what I presumed was the exit to the hospital wing, probably to get food. I took this chance to better soak in my surroundings. It was truly like I was in one of the Harry Potter books. The ceiling was high and filled with beautiful stone carvings. The windows were large, and filtered light into the room. When I looked out of them, part of me was hoping to see quidditch players zooming around above the grass, but I had no such luck.

The sleeping boy in the bed next to mine was a redhead… no. It couldn't be. Shit. I almost yelled "Ron," but I held myself back. It could be another redheaded, freckled, tall, gangly Harry Potter character. I wondered if he would freak out if I woke him up by putting a spider on his face. Probably.

Madam Pomfrey returned with a tray of food and I looked at it hungrily. She set the chicken, asparagus, mashed potatoes, carrots, pudding, and water on the bed and I eyed it. She handed me a fork and a napkin and I thanked her. She smiled and nodded and returned to her office as I dug in. I was a vegetarian, so I didn't bother with the chicken but the vegetables and pudding were delicious. I'm not proud to admit it, but I devoured that food like I hadn't, well, like I hadn't eaten in five days. This food was great. I probably should have been more suspicious of it because of my last experience with Hogwarts-provided drink, but I was too hungry.

When I finally came up for air, I found the redhead suspected-Ronald-Weasley staring at me with raised eyebrows.

I swallowed before saying, "Hi."

"Hi," he said. His eyebrows didn't lower.

"What?" I asked. "Is there something wrong with eating?"

I thought I heard something from him like, "Now I understand what Hermione means about my eating," but it was mumbled so I couldn't be sure." More loudly, he asked, "Who are you?"

I set the empty tray down next to me on the bed and scooted closer to the middle of the bed. The redhead's eyes flickered over presumably strange outfit.

"I could ask you the same thing," I said.

"Ron Weasley," the boy said. I'd been right. I wanted to jump up and down, because I was a fan of the Golden Trio, but I resisted.

"Rose Evans," I said. "What're you in here for?"

"Poisoned," He said casually. I hmm'd, nonchalantly. I was still processing his identity, and I already knew the events in the book. Malfoy must have tried to kill Dumbledore again. "You?"

"I fell from the ceiling. Were you there?" I asked.

"Sorry, no," he said. I mentally sighed. I'd been hoping that someone could tell me what had happened. I honestly had no recollection, besides a few voices and a pretty sky, and I wanted to know how I had fallen from the ceiling. "Wait, what? You fell from the ceiling? And why are you dressed so strangely?" He asked, ever-so-sensitively. I glanced down at my outfit.

"I don't know. I like these clothes," I said, stating the obvious and rolling my eyes. Ron narrowed his eyes.

"Wait a minute. What house are you in?" He asked me. I shrugged.

"Dunno. I don't even know if I'm a witch." Which I probably wasn't. Sadly.

"I didn't know Dumbledore allowed muggles in Hogwarts," Ron said.

The hospital wing door opened and three figures entered the room. Two were girls and one was a boy. My eyes widened when I recognized Harry Potter. He was tall, skinny, and pale. His hair was black, and half-covered the lightning-bolt-shaped scar on his forehead, slightly to the side. His robes, dark like the girls', was pinned with a red and gold lion. One girl appeared to be Hermione Granger, identifiable by her frizzy, curly brown hair and brown, almost amber, eyes. She was shorter than I had pictured in the past, but she was pretty. Freckles dotted her cheeks and nose and she was glaring at the other girl. The second girl looked to be Lavender Brown. Straight teeth in a half-smile, half-grimace in happiness that Ron was awake but worry about his condition, brownish blonde hair pulled back into two braids, and a pale purple sweater covered by dark robes.

"Ronald. You're awake!" Lavender Brown said, rushing to his side. I raised an eyebrow at the lack of a nickname, then remembered how he had said Hermione's name in his sleep in the book.

"Hi, Lavender," he said. He sat up a little bit straighter, wincing a little bit.

"You had us worried, Ron," Harry said, standing across from Lavender, on Ron's other side, closer to me.

"You're just lucky Harry was there with the bezoar," Hermione said from the foot of Ron's bed. Lavender glared at her.

I could resist cutting in, "You swallowed a stone that was in a goat's stomach." How gross. Not that it was worse than being dead, but still. Gross.

The three visitors turned to look at me. Harry's eyes widened and he just stared at me.

"And you are?" Hermione asked.

"Rose Evans," I said.

"Hermione Granger," Hermione said, "and this is Harry Potter and Lavender Brown. I suppose you've met Ron. Wait, did you say Evans?"

Before Hermione could continue, I said, "Pleasure to meet you all."

"Were you the one who fell from the Great Hall ceiling?" Lavender asked, looking at my face and tilting her head, like she was trying to discern whether I was indeed that girl.

"Yeah," I answered. "That was me."

"You fell from the ceiling?" Hermione asked. Harry was still silently staring at me.

"Unfortunately, yes, and no, I don't know why or how," I said before they could ask.

"How did you know that Ron swallowed the bezoar?" Hermione asked me, eyeing me little bit suspiciously.

I shrugged. "He said he was poisoned, and you mentioned the bezoar so I connected two and two. It isn't like you stuck it up his—"

"Okay," Hermione interrupted me before I could finish my sentence.

"So why did he have to swallow it?" I asked, even though I already knew the answer. Malfoy had given Slughorn the drink to give to Dumbledore, but Ron had ended up drinking the poison instead.

"Bad drink," Ron said, grimacing. "Thanks mate, for saving me," he told Harry.

"No problem," Harry said. He looked a little bit uncomfortable, maybe because the other two girls in the room appeared to be having a glaring contest or maybe because he didn't like it when people acknowledged his great-person-ness.

"So do you go here?" Hermione asked me, breaking her stare with Lavender. I shook my head.

"She might be a muggle," Ron cut in. "Maybe they'll obliviate her," he continued, apparently without a brain-mouth filter. I winced when he brought up the memory charm.

"Don't be insensitive, Ronald," Hermione said, glaring at him. "And anyhow, if she isn't a witch, how did she end up in Hogwarts? Experienced wizards and witches can't get in here without permission, let alone muggles."

I took a loud slurp of what was left in the cup of water Madam Pomfrey had brought me, to remind Hermione and Ron that I was in the room and could hear them talking about me. Lavender glanced at me.

"Well, I have to go study for the divination test, so goodbye, Harry, Rose," Lavender said, ignoring Hermione and Ron. It was times like these that I realized why I didn't have a boyfriend. I couldn't deal with someone annoying me all day, or breaking my heart. I couldn't imagine why Lavender would choose Ron Weasley for a relationship.

"Divination," Hermione muttered with a disapproving sniff.