Gwaed Ddraig

The girl shivered beneath her sodden cloak. The dark purple material streamed out behind her, blending into the bruised black sky. The water formed rivulets either side of her travel-worn boots and poured over the ravine. The shrieking Winds clawed at her rain-enveloped form with icy talons as she bowed her head to protect her gleaming silver eyes. She did not dare use magic to repel the rain. Not now. She was too close. Much too close.

Suddenly, the whole ledge began to tremble, causing showers of loose rock to hit the dusty ground with muffled cracks. The air shook with a volcanic roar, knocking the girl off her feet. The noise filled the air and the words were barely distinguishable.

"Pwy sy wedi dod? Pwy feiddio i ddeffro fi?"

The girl cowered where she lay, her hands protectively covering her ears. She did not understand the words, but there was something about the language. She felt she should know it... she should know the meaning. It felt old, like a forgotten memory. Yet, somehow, she was beginning to grasp the words... she was so close... what was it?

"Who..."

But then the tremors grew worse and the ground began to split beneath her. A blast of fiery air and trail of black smoke poured from the cave. The cold of a shadow stretched across her. She looked up, her eyes transfixed on the entrance. She drew a deep breath to scream and choked, the dry air raw on her tender throat. She couldn't breathe; she clutched desperately at her chest, terror rising through her in an unstoppable wave. Heat, boiling, blazing heat and fire, everywhere there was fire...

* * *

Hermione Granger woke with a start. She flicked panicky looks around her room until she felt the bed beneath herself. She let out a sigh of relief, comforted by her familiar surroundings. It was only a dream... but then... it wasn't. She knew she'd had the same dream many times before, but she couldn't remember them and soon she would forget this one. She grabbed a biro from her bedside table and something that felt papery. She scrawled "fire" just before her head drooped onto her pillow. She fought it, her eyelids flickering desperately, but in vain. The pen slipped from her hand and rolled onto the floor; the note crumpled and forgotten. She was asleep.

* * *

Rain drizzled across Hermione's car window, blurring the industrial grey buildings. Her dark eyes were filled with concern and her left hand was closed around an old shop receipt. It was a mere trifle, a scrap of meaningless paper, but it was the reason for her frown. Why had she written that word? The faintest trace of a memory fluttered just out of her reach but...

...but there was fear there. Fire and fear and a terrible, burning sorrow.

"Are you all right, dear?" her mother asked, turning to smile comfortingly at her daughter from her front seat in the car.

"Yeah, mum," Hermione replied tonelessly. Her mother frowned slightly but didn't pursue the matter further.

"We're nearly there now," she said instead.

No reply. Hermione was anxious to get to Diagon Alley quickly; she wanted to talk to Ron and Harry about the note. There was something ominous about it and she was worried.

No.

She was afraid.

The car stopped. Her dad turned around from the drivers seat and smiled.

"Well, we're here. Are you sure you want to stay with the Weasleys for the rest of the holidays?"

"Yeah, I'm certain," she replied quickly. "It's easier to get the train together and it's only a week 'til school."

Her dad was so protective of her. When she first got her letter from Hogwarts, he only objected because she would have to live away from home. Her mum had been so excited; she was quite a superstitious woman. She believed in the broken mirror, black cat, number thirteen, spilt salt stuff. Despite this, her mother studied science in university to become a dentist. Her father was a dentist too; he went to the same university as her mother. Even after four years of magical education, Hermione still could not get her parents to fully accept magical explanations. Hermione tried to point out how inconsistent it was for her mum to avoid magpies and yet to put her foot down when Hermione asked to have her teeth reduced magically.

They meant best though. They preferred her to study Arithmancy and Ancient Runes; they were such practical and scientific subjects. They fully supported her decision to give up Divination, which they agreed was rather woolly. "It's an arts subject," they would say as if that was an insult.

"I'll carry your stuff for you," her dad said, still smiling. Hermione barely nodded as she clambered out of the car. Her legs were stiff from hours of sitting in the same position. Carrying Crookshanks' basket herself, she followed her parents to the Leaky Caldron. She wondered why no one seemed to notice them much, despite her dad hauling along her heavy trunk. Then again, she supposed, this was London.

"Do you need anything from this side of London before we go in?" her mother asked.

"No mum."

"If you're sure, then."

They stepped inside the musty darkness of the Leaky Caldron. Heads barely turned as Hermione and her parents headed towards the bar. They were half way there when...

"Hermione! We're over here!" she couldn't mistake that voice, or its owner with his eye-drawing red hair.

"Ron! Hi," she said and rushed over to the table where he was sitting. Also with him were the younger half of the Weasley clan and her other best friend, Harry Potter. Sitting at the next table along were Mr and Mrs Weasley, who were smiling and waving at her parents.

"How've you been?" Harry asked her with a broad grin.

"How've I been?" she said with a laugh, "shouldn't it be, how've you been with those Dursleys of yours?" Harry smiled even more broadly.

"Since what happened last year, they're more afraid of Mr Weasley than of my godfather!"

"Tush!" exclaimed Arthur Weasley, "Like I keep saying, I was only trying to help them!" They all had a laugh about that until Mrs Weasley brought them down to earth.

"I'm glad you're having a better time of it Harry, dear, but you shouldn't mention, well, you know who, here."

"What? I didn't mention Voldemort."

Harry quickly regretted his rash words as a deadly stillness settled on the pub. After an uncomfortable silence, the noise resumed, but it was a hushed, whispering sort of sound that was almost worse than the silence.

"Quickly now," muttered Mr Weasley. "We'd better move on. Fred, George, you two help me with Hermione's things. We'll take them through the Floo system to ours and catch you up outside Gringotts."

They all shuffled away, followed by curious and hostile eyes. They were outside by the wall that led through to Diagon Alley when Ron turned to Harry, saying

"Gosh Harry, that was a bit thick wasn't it?"

"Ron!" snapped Mrs Weasley, "You will not mention this again, understand?" She glared at her son, who returned her look without flinching. Eventually, she gave up and instead said, "Harry, all I meant was, you mustn't mention your..." she lowered her voice to a whisper "...godfather..." her voice resumed its normal level, "...in such a public place. You don't want him to be in trouble do you? These are dangerous times to be loose with your tongue." Ginny smiled in a rather odd way at that and averted her eyes.

"You're the one who confused things by not naming him, Mum" said Ron pointedly. His mum gave him a startled look.

"I don't know what's got into you, my son. You've been acting too big for your boots, of late." Ron watched her sullenly as she turned to open the portal to Diagon Alley. Hermione looked at him worriedly. For a moment there, his expression had been so cold, so unlike him. He had been behaving out of character over the summer as well. His replies to her letters seemed so formal, so detached. He didn't even gloat when she told him that Victor Krum had split up with her. He found the long distance too much and wanted to stay in Bulgaria with his Quidditch team. Harry was a bit distant too, but he always tended to be. She could understand as well, after the way the last year ended. As it was, she knew she wouldn't have an opportunity to discuss her note until they were back at the Weasleys.

"Fire," she murmured. But what did it mean?

* * *

"I need new robes."

Ron groaned- he hated clothes shopping. Harry was looking across the street at Quality Quidditch Supplies. Hermione sighed.

"Fine!" she said exasperatedly. "I'll go to Madam Malkin's and you two can gawp at Quality Quidditch Supplies". Without another word, Harry and Ron ran across the street. Hermione rolled her eyes and sighed again. She walked quickly to Madam Malkin's wondering if she should get two spare work robes, or just the one.

The shop was full of robes of every sort and colour. Hermione looked longingly at some particularly nice blue dress robes. She could not afford them; she had to buy her boring, black school robes. But did they have to be so shapeless and unflattering? Her eyes flickered with the challenge.

"Yes, can I help you?" a squat, smiling witch bustled up to Hermione in pale lilac robes. Hermione smiled.

"I want black robes."

"For school, dear?" Hermione's smile broadened.

"No. I want something slightly different. I want black work robes, but could they look a bit more stylish than the Hogwarts uniform?" Madam Malkin smiled at her and winked.

"I understand, dear. Come through to the back." Hermione followed her into the back fitting room, which was empty.

"Stand on this stool here, dear. I'll have Alice do your fitting." Madam Malkin left the room and another witch entered. She was tall with auburn hair and rich brown robes. She pulled a standard work robe over Hermione's head and started to pin it in, to give it more shape.

"Do you often do robes, like this one?" Hermione asked discretely. The witch, presumably Alice, smiled.

"Every year I get another girl who wants nicer robes than the standard uniform. Usually it's the most rebellious ones, who don't mind breaking a few rules." The witch winked at Hermione, who looked surprised. "Tell me," Alice continued, "Are you studying with Professor Trelawney?"

"No!" she exclaimed vehemently. She blushed and looked at the floor. Alice laughed.

"Not one of her followers then? Don't worry, I understand. You think it's bad being in her lessons when you can't see the future? Imagine the nightmare for someone who actually has an all-seeing eye." Hermione looked intrigued.

"Are you a Diviner?"

"Yes," she replied simply. "I tried to tell Trelawney the future, but she would never listen to me. I kept proving her wrong. I eventually dropped out from sheer frustration." Hermione smiled

"I dropped out two years ago." Alice nodded sympathetically. Hermione continued, tentatively "Can you see my future?"

Alice sighed. "People always ask me. I can't always see what does happen. I can sometimes only see what could."

"Sorry."

"Don't be sorry. I'll say what I can see, but don't take it as fate."

"Ok," she said shyly. Alice took a deep breath, closed her eyes and then slowly exhaled. The smell of forests and wood smoke filled the tiny back room. She opened her eyes, but they were no longer greyish blue, but bright silver, like unicorn blood.

"I can see..." she murmured in a soft, lilting voice, "I see..." Her eyes opened wider, and for a moment looked almost fearful. "fire... everywhere... smoke... flame... and a voice in the dark... calling... summoning me." She began to mumble in another language "Rydwi'n dod. Bydda i ddychwelyd i fy mamwlad. Bydda i...geisio y ddraig...y ddraig coch. Bydda..." Alice began to trail off, her eyes closing.

"What?" Hermione exclaimed agitatedly, but at that moment another person entered the room. A most unwelcome person.

"Hello, Granger," he said in an indifferent drawl. He stood on the stool next to her while Madam Malkin threw a robe over him.

"Malfoy," she replied stiffly. Inwards she cursed him, she couldn't ask Alice about her prediction with him in the room. Alice resumed working on her robes but no longer met her eye. Madam Malkin began to adjust Draco's robes, but the bell on the door called her into the shop.

"Alice!" she called urgently. Alice looked at Hermione, apologised and followed Madam Malkin. There was an awkward silence, neither wanting to be in the company of the other. It was Draco who eventually broke the silence.

"I thought this shop was high-class, but if they let filth like you in, Mudblood, I start to wonder..." Draco muttered apathetically.

"Shut up, you stupid, little boy," snapped Hermione, "You weren't even trying with that one, were you? I'm insulted you couldn't think of something more original to say to me. Or is that beyond your cranial capacity?"

Draco glared at her, smarting at the "little boy" comment.

"How would you prefer I insult you, Mudblood?" he said with a sneer. "How about if I tell you the things that people say behind your back? About how boring you are? What a plain, overbearing, know-it-all you are. How smug and arrogant and self-superior you are?"

"That's a good one coming from you, you inbreed!" Hermione snarled at him, "At least I have friends that can string a sentence together. At least I can choose the life I want to lead and don't have to follow in my parents' footsteps."

"Who'd want to follow in the footsteps of a Muggle?"

"Who'd want to follow in the footsteps of a treacherous, murdering bastard?"

"Bastard? Unlike your family, Mudblood, my grandparents were married when they had their children."

"Unlike your family, my grandparents weren't brother and sister." At that point it would have been nasty, but Madam Malkin, looking pale, interrupted them.

"I'm sorry...sorry," she muttered distractedly. "I've had some trouble lately, that's all. Nothing for anyone to worry about." Hermione looked across at Draco, whose anger had turned to smug amusement. He knows, she thought, he knows what the trouble is. He probably caused it.

Her robes were quickly finished and paid for. She hurried out of the shop, trying to get Draco's mocking eyes out of her mind. She nearly ran down Ron, who was just coming to see why she was taking so long.

"Whoa, steady on," he exclaimed as she stopped abruptly in front of him. "What's wrong?"

"Malfoy! That's what."

"You haven't been causing trouble have you?" Ron asked, with a faint smile. Hermione looked set to deck him.

"Still talking about me, Granger? Really, how predictable of you." Draco was standing in the entrance to Madam Malkin's with a vindictive grin.

"Go away Malfoy," Ron said quietly.

"Trying to protect your little Mudblood whore, Weasel?"

Ron jumped forward to punch Draco, but Hermione was quicker. With a sharp, definite action of her knee, she hit Malfoy with all the strength she could muster. He crumpled to the floor, his face tingeing pink with agony.

"Now fuck off, you incestuous prick, ok?" She then turned her back and marched off, with Ron trailing behind her in amazement.

* * *

"I'm absolutely knackered!" groaned Mrs Weasley when they were eventually back at the Burrow. She kicked off her shoes and slumped onto a sofa.

"Why don't I cook dinner tonight, love?" asked Mr Weasley in a kindly voice. Around the room there were simultaneous exclamations of protest.

"My cooking isn't that bad is it?" exclaimed Mr Weasley.

"No..." replied Fred.

"...it's worse" finished George.

"Don't worry about it, dear, I'll manage. Ginny can help me, can't you?" Ginny nodded and smiled in a shy, secretive way.

"Quickly," muttered Ron to Harry and Hermione, "we'd better get out of here before we're conscripted." They hurriedly followed Fred and George up the stairs, who'd already had the same idea.

Not much had changed in Ron's room since the last summer. Ron said there wasn't much point in changing things when you only lived there for six weeks of the year.

"Look at what Fred and George got me!" said Ron happily. He was holding out a set of very dark, forest-green dress robes. They certainly didn't look like they had come from a second hand shop.

"Oh! How did they afford them!" exclaimed Hermione without thinking. She blushed and began to apologise but Ron interrupted her.

"No it's ok. I know what you mean. I don't get it either. I don't really care, I'm just glad I've got something decent and new." He held them up and swirled round, laughing. "They said not to tell Mum or Dad, so I think they might be stolen or something. I wouldn't put it past them."

"I don't think they'd do that" interjected Harry quickly. He knew how Fred and George could afford the dress robes. He had given them the money, only he hadn't told either of his friends about it. He especially did not want Ron to know. He was very sensitive about stuff like that.

"Whatever," he replied with a shrug.

"Stop quarrelling a minute will you? I've something important to tell you about," Hermione interrupted Harry, who was about to protest.

"What is it?" asked Ron diffidently, assuming it would be about schoolwork or the OWLs. Hermione pulled out her receipt with the scrawled note on it, but at that moment Hedwig flew in with a letter for Harry. Harry took it and read it hurriedly.

"Who's it from?" asked Ron, who was still marvelling at his new clothes.

"Sirius," he replied abruptly. Ron looked up, startled by his tone.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked quickly, pocketing her own concerns in favour of Harry's. Harry looked at her, his eyes hollow.

"Read it," he said, allowing the paper to fall from his limp fingers. Ron snatched it up and read aloud:

Harry

Time is short, so I'll be brief. You will hear about this soon enough, but I want you to be prepared in advance.

The walls of Azkaban have been broken. It didn't take long for the Dementors to change sides. They will soon be everywhere and the imprisoned followers of the Dark Lord will return to him. We tried to stop this. But Fudge and the Ministry caught us and undid all our plans.

There's another thing, but I find this hard to write. When the convicts escaped from Azkaban they wanted to avenge themselves in some way. They've taken St Mungo's, Harry. A hospital. They attacked the weak and sick. That is what the dark side brought them to. Most of the patients are dead, some are worse than that.

But remember, Harry, you must protect yourself. Don't put yourself in danger this year Harry. Promise me.

Sirius.

P.S. Be wary of your new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, she isn't to be trusted.

"Our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher is female?" said Hermione in a surprised but pleased voice. The other two looked at her.

"Is that all you can say?" hissed Harry in a deadly whisper. Hermione paled and stepped back from him. His green eyes were wide with rage.

"I'm s-sorry, Harry."

"St Mungo's?" muttered Ron, " Those cowardly scum. They..." he broke off.

"Should we tell your parents?" Hermione asked in a muted tone.

"Yes," Ron replied quickly. "We have to warn them." They filed out of the room, with Hermione trailing last. Her shame at sounding so callous completely drove all thoughts of the receipt from her mind.

* * *

It was a quiet journey to Platform 9¾. No one had much to say. The news of the attack on St Mungo's was plastered over every newspaper and radio station in the wizarding world. Everyone was in shock; especially those who did not would not or could not accept the fact that Voldemort was a threat again. There were the people who lived through the threat their whole childhood, who could not face going back to those days. They just wanted the screaming to be forever silenced.

It was much worse on the actual platform. The silence was so unnatural and the fear so palpable that it made Hermione feel sick. There were more parents than usual on the platform, some clinging to their children as if they would never let go. Muffled sobbing could be heard in a background of low, tense voices. There was no laughter that day. No joyous greetings of long parted friends, no young voices at all. Only the voices not graced by innocence could be heard. Mrs Weasley gave them all an extra long hug before they got on the train.

"Make sure you look after each other!" she called to the departing faces of her youngest children. But they were too far away to hear her. Arthur Weasley embraced his wife.

"Don't worry pet," he said quietly.

"Will we ever see them again?" she murmured, her eyes shiny with tears.

"They'll be fine."

"Like all the other years?" she whispered.

"They're still alive, aren't they?"

"But the risk! And all the trouble they get into!"

"Dumbledore will look after them," he said.

"But who will look after us?" she mouthed soundlessly.

Eventually he said, "Come on, dear. Lets go home." She nodded. It was better that he had not heard her reply.

* * *

Draco Malfoy stared out of the train window blankly. Another long, boring train journey with two people who, in terms of conversation, could be interchanged with rocks. He could always go and pick on Harry Potter, but then he'd have nothing to do for the other eight or so hours. He was resolved to go anyway, but then he remembered Granger would be with him. He flinched at the memory of their last encounter.

As he reflected on their conversation, he became angry. Crabbe and Goyle were not the brightest of sparks but they could string together sentences. Short ones, yes, but they were sentences. His eyes narrowed, "inbreed" was he? Well he'd show her. The Dark Lord liked to have interesting people brought to his attention. And she was certainly of interest to Him. A talented, Mudblood witch who was good friends with Harry Potter? Draco smiled unpleasantly. No doubt she was already noticed, he would just have to think of a way to tip the balance. He laughed a cold, sinister laugh.

Crabbe looked at Goyle dully and grunted "huh?" Goyle shrugged. They both began to chuckle trollishly.

* * *

"I've something to tell you both," Harry muttered to Ron and Hermione once they had found an empty compartment.

"What is it?" asked Ron blearily. He hadn't been sleeping properly since Harry had got that letter.

"It's about what happened. At St Mungo's." He paused. "I had a dream a few days before I got that letter. A nightmare. I could see Voldemort" the other two flinched "and he was laughing. He was looking in a giant mirror."

"I think I'd laugh if I looked like he does," said Ron. Hermione smiled, but Harry barely acknowledged the interruption.

"He was watching the Dementors unlocking the gates. I saw it. I saw them escape. I knew what was going to happen and I did nothing!" He kicked the chair opposite him violently.

Hermione suddenly stood up. "Harry!" she exclaimed, "You couldn't have prevented this! You heard what Sirius said; it was the Ministry and Fudge. They got in the way and allowed them to escape! Not you!" Harry shook his head sullenly.

"That's not all" he continued, " I had another dream. This time I could see St Mungo's." He paused while the other two looked uncomfortable. "I did not see much, but I heard Voldemort and he was laughing. Laughing at the destruction he'd caused. And I saw two people. A man and a woman. I saw Voldemort kill them before I woke up." There was a pause.

"Did you know who they were?" asked Ron carefully. Another pause, longer this time.

"Yes," sighed Harry. "It was Mr and Mrs Longbottom."

* * *

The sorting ceremony was unusually sombre. There was little cheering for any student from any house. Even the Slytherins, with their reputation for supporting the dark side, were disheartened.

There was brief interest when Lavender announced that her sister was being sorted. Her sister, Heather, became a Ravenclaw. Lavender looked a bit disappointed, but Parvati assured her that it was a really good house. Despite the fact the girls were all afraid of the Grey Lady, resident ghost of Ravenclaw. She was a bit old fashioned and criticised their "social habits".

The thing that caused the most stir though, were the new teachers. Hagrid was "away on Hogwarts business" so their new Care of Magical Creatures teacher would be Thomas Clearwater.

"That's my brother's friend!" whispered Ron, "He worked with Charlie in Romania. He's an expert in dragon flame!"

"Fascinating!" said Hermione in reply, "I'd love to know more about dragons."

"Is he related to Penelope Clearwater?" asked Harry.

"Yeah, he's her brother," replied Ron, "Did you hear? She's split up with Percy," he lowered his voice more, "Apparently he was more in love with his work than her."

"Who wouldn't love thick-bottomed caldrons?" whispered Harry with a grin.

"Is Percy ok?" asked Hermione. She was quite concerned about Percy; there was something manic in his dedication to work. She didn't like to think it, but, well... Slytherins were famed for their ambition and Percy was nothing if not ambitious. And even Ron had said that he thought Percy would sell his own brothers if he thought they might get in his way.

"I don't think he's too bothered by it," Ron shrugged "He's very busy at the moment. With work and stuff."

"Who's going to be Groundskeeper while Hagrid is away?" said Harry.

Seamus Finnigan leaned across the table. "I hear that he's been temporarily been replaced by a Mr Stevens," he said "He was a Muggle-born but never really adapted to magic. He's supposed to be really grumpy." Dean Thomas nodded in confirmation.

"Thanks, Seamus," said Hermione, smiling. He blushed and muttered something incoherent.

"I bet he'll get on really well with Filch," muttered Ron. Harry smiled morosely.

"Who's going to be the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher?" Harry asked Seamus.

"Sorry, Harry, I don't know" he replied. Dean shrugged.

"Where's Neville, by the way," Dean asked. Harry bowed his head and Ron averted his eyes.

"I think he's ill," stammered Hermione in a wooden, unconvincing tone.

"He hasn't been attacked, has he?" Seamus whispered quietly. Hermione shrugged miserably and Ron shook his head.

At that moment, Dumbledore called for silence. "I have one more announcement to make before you all go to your common rooms." His voice was serious, his eyes dim. "There will be a new teacher for the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts. However, she is caught up at the moment in recent events." He paused to let that sink in. Harry's mind raced- 'she isn't to be trusted'. "She will be joining us next week. Until that time, Professor Lupin will be standing in as substitute."

Harry's head shot up. He scanned the teacher's table, but Lupin was not there. Everyone who remembered Lupin was doing the same. He was an excellent teacher, with the unfortunate ailment of turning into a werewolf.

"Professor Lupin will join us tomorrow," Dumbledore added when he saw the confused glances at the top table. "And now, it is time for you all to be toddling off to bed."

* * *

"I'm very sorry, Mr Longbottom," Dumbledore said quietly, but sincerely. Neville did not look up from where he was sitting, twisting his hands in his lap.

"S'ok, professor," he mumbled.

"I know you were fond of the staff at the hospital. You knew them quite well from your visits to your parents. You've been going to the hospital since your childhood, haven't you?"

"Yes, sir."

"I would understand if you needed some time away from school." Neville looked up sharply, his face contorted with anger.

"Where would I go sir?" Dumbledore leaned back in his chair.

"To your grandmother, or another relative if you wish,"

"No. Not her. And there is no one else." Dumbledore gave Neville a piercing look, which was returned unblinkingly.

"I do not want you to act in a rash way, Neville. You cannot change what has happened." Neville's face twitched.

"Can I go now sir?" he asked tonelessly. Dumbledore gave him a worried look.

"You might like to see Madam Pomfrey first. She can give you something for the shock."

"Can she take away the images professor? Can she stop the memories?" Neville stood up violently, knocking his chair to the floor. "Can she bring back the hope that my parents will one day get better?" His voice broke and he ran from the room. Dumbledore did not follow him, but let him run.

He had always been worried about that boy. He seemed, at first, to be the most unlikely Gryffindor but then...he was braver than anyone could possibly know. Dumbledore sighed and took out his Penseive. He did not like to do it, but he would have to review his memories of the incident at St Mungo's. He would have to walk again amongst the smouldering ruins.

* * *

Hermione went to bed early that night. She wanted to cry, but did not want the other girls to know. She wished that she could just be able to sleep alone for once. In her own room, with her own things and her own privacy. She took out the receipt with "fire" scrawled on it once again. She was desperate to know what it meant. She had to work this one out on her own. That did not make much of a change, really. She put a roll of parchment and a quill carefully on her bedside table. Despite the quiet giggling and gossiping of Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown, Hermione fell asleep quickly.

And that night, she dreamed.