To Dwell on Dreams

Hermione's eyes flipped open. She was back in her four-poster bed. Dim daylight shone past the curtains. Lavender was still asleep next to her, but Hermione was, oddly enough, wide awake. What time was it? She sat up and took her watch from the night-table. This was about the time she would normally wake up - how convenient. Without a trace of lethargy, she got up and headed for the bathroom.

Then she stopped, remembering something.

She had had a dream, a dream about a girl named Jane Smith. They had been in a log cabin, talking about...life, and...Gryffindors. Jane had made a bitter comment about all the houses merging into one Slytherin...hold on! What was the meaning of that?

Could it have been a prophecy? It couldn't have been just a dream; it had been too real!

Get a grip, said a voice in her head. You know visions and predictions are a load of superstitious nonsense...

But there were real prophecies. After all, last year Harry had smashed one about himself, in the Department of Mysteries! Wasn't that right?

It was a good thing that brushing her teeth required little concentration. Her mind was overloaded with the task of sorting out memories. What had happened yesterday, before the dream? She had been in the common room while Ron and Harry were talking. They had been talking about...Sirius, again, yes, that was it, that was always it. Harry never stopped talking about Sirius. But last night he and Ron had sat a good distance away from Hermione, and she couldn't remember why they had. An uneasy feeling crept over her - the feeling she got whenever she suspected that something was her fault. And then she remembered the reason. Herbologyclass! While they were working on the same Giggly Gaschewer, Hermione and Ron had started bickering again. It was about something trivial, she recalled, but the argument had grown into a yelling match by the time they got to Defence Against the Dark Arts. Harry had had to sit between the two at dinner, and in the common room he sat with Ron...

"I can't go on with it," said Harry. "I keep remembering how Sirius watched from the stands, and then I forget why I'm there...I'll just mess things up for Gryffindor if I play!"

"Ginny isn't half as good as you, and you know it!" Ron insisted.

"With her mind on the game, she'll be loads better..."

Hermione stood up and walked over to Harry's armchair. She couldn't stand Harry talking like this. "Harry, I really doubt Sirius would have wanted you to drop Quidditch on account of him..."

Ron whirled around to face her. "How would you know? He wasn't your godfather!"

"Don't be ridiculous," Hermione snapped. "You know Sirius, he wouldn't be very happy -"

"Hermione, shut up about things you don't understand! Stop nosing around in other people's business!"

Hermione felt the heat rush into her face. Harry muttered a weak "Ron..."

"Well, FINE!" Hermione shouted, looking at both of them with rage. "So you're 'other people,' I'm just this girl who hangs out with you almost all the time, who you can leave out when you feel like it. Of course I would never understand you because I'm not a boy! I'm just a book that gives you answers when you need help on homework, or even when you're trying to do brave deeds but you're too stupid to figure out how to go about it -"

"Nobody's asking you to hang around us!" roared Ron. "You could just go and hang out with some proper girl friends, if that's what you want!!"

Hermione stared at Ron, speechless. She was acutely aware that everyone else in the common room had turned to look at her and Ron. Finally, her voice cracking, she said, "You know perfectly well that I haven't got any 'proper girl friends.' You know I could never hang out with normal girls. But if you two hate my company so much, I don't care. Just don't expect anything from me ever again!"

With that, she grabbed her textbooks and parchment in both arms and crawled out the portrait hole, heading for the library.

Hermione closed her eyes. Could it be true, could that scene really have taken place just yesterday evening? That was so horrible...and, of course, that meant she couldn't possibly look at either Ron or Harry today. Or tomorrow. For a while. Until someone apologized.

Well, one thing was for sure. She wouldn't be the one to do it!

She went on with getting herself ready for classes, all the while seething about Ron's behavior. It was only when she turned on the shower and felt the water splash through her fingers that she thought, once again, of Jane Smith. Now there was a girl she could be friends with. Of course, Jane was a ghost who'd only shown up in a dream, which posed a slight problem. Hermione smiled slightly, marveling at how pathetic she sounded even to herself.

Though really, Jane Smith did puzzle her...

The morning passed uneventfully, for the most part. During breakfast Hermione ignored Parvati and Lavender, concentrating on the Daily Prophet instead. ("HOGSMEADE UNDER SIEGE BY DEATH EATERS" - Hermione's first thought was, "Parvati would be glad," though she wanted to slap herself immediately afterwards.) She took care to sit far from Ron and Harry whenever possible in the classes they shared. In Potions she paired up with Neville, thus saving the class from another disastrous explosion.

By lunchtime, however, Hermione was tired of not speaking to her best friends. She remembered her third year at Hogwarts, when her loneliness coupled with a crushing workload had made that year the most miserable of her life. Maybe it wasn't worth waiting for Ron to realize that he was at fault; maybe she'd better pretend she was sorry and have things go back to the way they were. But that could wait till the evening. In the meantime, since she was friendless, she could go to the library and actually get some work done.

She sat down at a table and unpacked her bag. A minute later, she had her nose comfortably buried in her Ancient Runes book. But a nearby huddle of whispering Ravenclaws stole her attention away from its pages.

"...Cho doesn't like him anymore, I heard they ended on a pretty awful note...but the fact that she's still worried for him makes you wonder how bad it really is..."

"Why haven't they done something? Why is he still going to school when You-Know-Who could kill him any minute?"

"Well, we've got to remember that Dumbledore's the greatest wizard -"

"But he's so old, he could die any minute and where would Harry be?"

"Parvati told me he's not that great at his classes either -"

"Look!"

There was a sudden hush. Hermione pretended to be deeply engrossed in her textbook.

Finally, someone said, "At least he's got her for a friend - you can't say she's not great at her classes."

Hermione was halfway between snorting and smiling, but she fought the urge to do either. Yes, they flattered her, but perhaps only to make up for their criticizing one of her best friends. Still, they had inadvertently posed another interesting question. Where would Harry be, now that Hermione wasn't there to let him copy her notes?

Once again, Hermione nearly slapped herself. They were talking about Harry being in danger - how could she be so vindictive? She did worry about Harry, even if he didn't act like he was in danger. He had gotten into life-threatening situations every single year that Hermione had known him. But she had shared a good number of them herself, so she no longer really thought of him as being...special...

But he was. He was the one Voldemortwas after. He was the one whom Voldemort hated, upon whom Voldemortwould find any means to take his revenge.... Despite everything that had happened yesterday, Hermione berated herself for the times she had secretly resented Harry's continued grieving over Sirius. Who knew how many other troubles he kept to himself!

At exactly nine o'clock, an exhausted Hermione climbed through the portrait hole. She dimly registered a large notice on the board announcing the suspension of Hogsmeade visits until further notice. Between the end of classes and now, she had essentially locked herself up in the library. She hadn't even eaten dinner. Her teachers had dished out a heavy workload today, especially in Ancient Runes and Arithmancy. Besides, now that she couldn't hang around Harry and Ron, conversation at the Gryffindor table wasn't worth the time.

The growling in her stomach had completely subsided after about an hour. She was pleasantly surprised - the next time she was piled with work, she would know she had the option of skipping a meal. But she was so tired...

She didn't even look at Harry or Ron as she headed to bed, thinking only of how comfortable it would be to lie on a mattress and let sleep take over. Her earlier plan to apologize to them was completely forgotten.

Ron stared after her. "Not even a scathing look?" he muttered.

"I still say we should probably tell her we're sorry and get on with it," said Harry heavily. "It's useless, breaking up friendships over silly arguments..."

"Why should we be the ones to say sorry?" Ron said indignantly. "She's the one who's all by herself!"

The journey seemed much shorter this time, though the way was impossible to follow. Just when Hermione and the otter had reached what looked like the end of the Forbidden Forest, the land below them trembled violently, as if an almighty hand were shaking it vigorously from side to side. When the trembling stopped, they were swimming over a flat grassland. She could see the log cabin in the distance: a lighthouse in a sea of dark, green-tinted greyness.

Jane was sitting by the back wall of the first room, as if she were expecting them. She had her reading glasses on and was perusing a thick volume in her lap when they arrived. Upon looking up, she immediately closed the book, set it on a small table next to her chair, and took off her glasses.

"Well, hello!" she greeted Hermione in a mock-surprised voice before bending over to pat the otter.

"Hi again," said a bemused Hermione. There was no doubt about it - she could almost make out the colors of Jane's figure. She ventured to guess that Jane had brown hair, but eyes that were not brown. "Why am I back here?"

"Madam, I should like to ask you that myself," declared Jane with gusto, lifting her chin to the heavens.

Hermione didn't laugh; she was too busy being confused.

"Would you care to join me in a cup of tea and a discussion of our lives?" Jane pressed on.

Now Hermione had to smile; she had never met anyone like this. "Why, I would be delighted! How kind of you to think of it..."

The night passed in a much cheerier fashion than before. Hermione could speak freely of her breach with Ron and Harry, wrinkling her nose most elegantly and acting like she could care less. Jane listened to her with a sympathetic ear nonetheless, which Hermione appreciated - for once, she was the one doing the talking. Being advisor to Harry was nice in its own way, but when had he or Ron ever listened to her problems? It made chatting with Jane so refreshing. But there was still the question of why she was having this conversation in the first place...

"I need to ask you something," Hermione said after a short silence. Jane looked at her questioningly. Hermione continued, "Well, the possibility that you're a figment of my imagination is very likely...even if it's been two nights now...and I was just wondering. Are you - a vision, or a prophecy, or - basically, who are you and why have I met you?"

Jane appeared to be weighing the matter. Then, with an air of decisiveness:

"Would you like me to tell you about my life?"

Hermione was taken aback by this outright evasion, but she nodded.

"All right then," Jane said, sighing. "Where should I start.

"I wasn't born in a magical family. My mum was an English teacher; my dad, a surgeon. My older sister was a Muggle as well. We weren't the happiest family - my sister and I didn't get along, and my dad worked long hours, so we didn't see him too much. But I was a lucky kid, 'cause starting early on, I did well in school. It gave me - and my parents - something to be proud of.

"Then my Hogwarts letter came. Well, that was an interesting time for my Muggle family."

"Mine too," Hermione interrupted, grinning at the memory. She couldn't help it, and Jane had looked almost as if she expected Hermione to say something.

"Yes, bless our Muggle-born hearts. It's lucky they sent Hagridto fetch me after a few days; I don't think my dad would have settled for any less proof than Diagon Alley. After that, though, my parents were ecstatic. I guess they felt special, even if they weren't wizards themselves, just because now they were witnesses to a world completely barmy and insane - totally unlike the mundane one we had lived in till then.

"So I went to Hogwarts and loved it, even if I didn't love all the people. Then in my fifth year my parents were both killed - w-we think, that is to say, I am almost sure, that - that they were killed when some wizards went - Muggle-hunting. The Ministry covered it up - Professor McGonagall gave me the Muggle letter saying that my parents died - in a bus accident at night - which was preposterous. They both had their own cars and went home at different times. We think - it was a nighttime hunt - people could get away with those things back then, the Dark Lord was rising...but I will always remember that I introduced my parents to the world that killed them. That killed us."

"Killed - you?"

Jane nodded.

"Was it - Voldemort?"

She nodded again, then leaned forward and looked straight into Hermione's fearful eyes. "I know this all sounds very vague. Most things I have to say to you will be just as unclear. I can't tell you all you would like to know, or even all that I would like to tell you - I'm sorry."

Hermione swallowed a lump in her throat. A million questions were darting through her head, but she was afraid to say any of them after what Jane had just said. Finally she stammered, "S-sorry, I just need to - to ask you - d-did V-Voldemort kill you because - because you were Muggle-born?"

Jane looked at Hermione with a grave expression on her face. "The Dark Lord only makes one distinction between wizards. Either you are on his side, or you are not. I was not. And he is - unbelievably powerful - that is, he can kill almost anyone he cares to. The best we can do is to learn all we can and to prepare ourselves, emotionally, to stand up to him. Even if we die, it is a victory to have defied him during our lives."

Hermione was silent. Finally she whispered, "Are you trying to tell me something?"

"I'm not a prophet," Jane said quietly. "But remember what I've said, all the same. Defy him while you live, and you are the winner. Do you understand?"

Hermione didn't understand, but she nodded anyway. She remembered something that had been bugging her since lunchtime.

"I'm worried for my friend Harry. I don't know how he can go on with his life like everything's normal - I mean, he's really the one Voldemort's after, now." Jane nodded, obviously having heard the story. "And since - well - Voldemortkilled you" - Jane rolled her eyes, which made Hermione feel a little less nervous - "is there anything you could tell me, anything that I could do that you think could - help him, somehow?"

To her surprise, Jane's pale green eyes twinkled. "Well, well, we're catching on to the idea, are we? But I thought you weren't talking to him! Yes, there is something you could do that would help him immensely. Tell him that you're sorry for blowing up at him and Ron, but you wish they wouldn't leave you out all the time. Don't glare at me like that, you know you need to get it over with. How can you help him if you won't go near him when Ron's around?"

Hermione sighed, though she was smiling ruefully in spite of herself. Jane grinned back. It was so unnerving that Jane sounded so wise sometimes, even though she looked to have died around Hermione's age. Then again, it was probably easy for Jane to give Hermione advice when she didn't have to follow it herself, being a solitary ghost and all...

"Well, I think that's quite enough food for thought for one day, don't you think?" said Jane, interrupting Hermione's thoughts. "You'd better be going back to bed." She sprinkled a sand-like substance into Hermione's teacup and poured a little more tea into it. "Here, drink this, it'll help you. No more questions!" she added, when she saw that Hermione wanted to say something.

Very reluctantly, Hermione lifted the cup and did as she was told. "I'll see you again tomorrow," she heard Jane say before she woke up.