Brook came down to the common room, rubbing his eyes and yawning. He had had another nightmare and knew he was done sleeping for the night. He was glad that he could place Silencio around his bed, not just for the snores of his dorm mates, but also because he didn’t want to wake them with his screams. It was not uncommon for him to come down to the common room after one of these nightmares and watch the fire or study. As a matter of fact, it occurred at least once a week. He liked the common room in the middle of the night for it reminded him of his family room at home. During the winter, his parents and he would light the fire, and snuggle up in a quilt, just enjoying the chance to sit and do nothing. Even though the common room reminded him of his parents, it comforted him and gave him some peace, especially after one of the car wreck dreams.

The common room was dark as it usually was in the middle of the night, with just a dying fire to light it. As he sat down, the couch was lumpier than usual, and came to the realization that he was sitting on someone, not the couch. He looked down and said, “Ginny, I am so sorry! I didn’t see you there.”

“That’s okay; you can sit in my lap anytime. Just don’t let Dean see you,” she said jokingly, but Brook could tell that her heart wasn’t in it.

“Are you alright, Ginny?”

“I just had a nightmare and couldn’t go back to sleep. When that happens, I like coming down here to be alone and stare at the fire.”

“I thought I was the only one who did that.”

“So, you had a nightmare too? About your parents’ accident? You’ve mentioned before about having that dream.”

“Yeah, that‘s the one I have most often, but it was a different one tonight.”

“Would you like to tell me about it? Sometimes it helps to talk to someone.”

Brook hesitated for a moment before giving in to her request. “It’s a weird dream. I have no idea what it means. I've had this dream as long as I can remember, but I get it more frequently since coming to Hogwarts, at least once a week. I hear a woman screaming. Sometimes I can make out what she is saying, other times I can’t. When I can understand it she says, ‘No! Not him! Please no, take me, kill me instead!’ Then I see what I now realize is a spell being cast, but the woman who is screaming blocks my view of who is casting it. The whole room turns green and she falls. I then see the wizard who cast the spell in a dark cloak; I never see his face. He points his wand at me and I see the green light again, and then I wake up, my heart racing and all sweaty. I have no idea what it means or why I am so scared. I am sure Freud would have a field day with that one.”

“Freud? Who’s that?”

“He’s a Muggle psychiatrist . . . “ he stopped when he saw another look of confusion on her face. “Sort of a mind healer. Anyway he was famous for interpreting dreams.”

“You mean like someone interpreting a seer’s prophecy?”

“Maybe a little bit. But in his opinion, almost all dreams had sexual implications. I always thought he was a little perverted.”

“Well, I can’t see any sexual interpretations to your dream, but who knows. I don’t have a better answer.”

“What about your dream; any sex involved?” he asked teasingly, nudging her with his shoulder.

“No, the meaning of my nightmare is quite clear,” she answered quietly.

“I’m sorry, Ginny. I didn’t mean to make light of it. Care to talk about it? Some wise person once told me that sometimes it helps to talk to someone.”

“Prat!” she said, slapping him lightly on the arm with a smile. Her face darkened again and she bit her lower lip, obviously considering whether to proceed. “I don’t know. It’s pretty personal. It’s embarrassing and humiliating.”

“If you don’t want to, that’s fine. I don’t want to intrude.”

“No, you’re right; it might help to tell someone. But I want to prepare you, it’s not pretty.”

“Don't worry about that; if I can help you, I want to try. Whenever you’re ready.”

She took a deep breath and then started. “Well, the nightmare concerns what happened to me my first year at Hogwarts. Someone hid a magical diary in my books. Whenever I wrote in it, my words would disappear, and then the diary would write back. The person in the diary said his name was Tom and that he had been a Hogwarts student many years before and that he had enchanted the diary to carry a part of his personality so that he could talk to me. As the year went on, I wrote in it almost daily. I poured my most inner secrets and desires into it. But it turned out that Tom was an evil wizard who would later become the most feared wizard of our time, Voldemort.” Brook fought back the urge to gasp, not because of the use of the name, but learning that Voldemort had affected Ginny as well. “During the year, I started losing weight, not eating or sleeping, and then I started having blackouts. He used the diary to possess me and the blackouts were when he completely controlled me. It was really scary coming to and having no idea how I got there, or why I was all wet. One time I was covered in blood and feathers.”

“Blood and feathers?”

“That makes a little more sense when I tell you the other part of it. At the same time, there were mysterious attacks upon Muggle-born students. They would be found petrified, like rock, but still alive. Hermione and Colin were two of the students attacked. Tom was using me to open a hidden part of the castle called the Chamber of Secrets. In the Chamber was hidden a creature called a basilisk, a type of giant snake that could kill with just a look. The students who were attacked were lucky because they never looked directly at the basilisk. Instead, Colin, for instance, looked at it through a camera, and Hermione looked at it in a mirror, so they were just petrified. That is where the blood and feathers comes in. One of the few things that can kill a basilisk is the crowing of a rooster. So, one time when Tom possessed me, he made me go down to Hagrid’s and kill all of the roosters. Because of my strange behavior, Ron started following me and one night he tracked me when Tom possessed me. He trailed me to a girls’ loo on the second floor and watched me open the Chamber. To open it, you had to speak Parseltongue, or snake language. When he saw me open the Chamber, he ran to get Dumbledore. When he came back with Dumbledore, he had heard me well enough to imitate the sounds and the Chamber opened. To make a long story short, too late, I know, they went down into the Chamber and saved me and destroyed the diary. If it wasn’t for them, I would have died. I felt so ashamed and weak. Dumbledore said that many adults had been tricked and used by Voldemort; he said that even Tom was surprised at how long I held out. But I couldn’t help feel humiliated. I was responsible for all those students being attacked, and if not for dumb luck, I could have killed them. It took me a long time to get over it, and most of time I can put it behind me, but whenever I have this nightmare, it just all comes flooding back and I’m that small, silly girl again.” She put her face down into her hands and started sobbing.

Brook went closer to her and pulled her petite frame into a hug, held and rocked her, saying, “There, there, Ginny.” As he continued to rock her, she relaxed and started to calm down.

Eventually, she sniffed, wiped at her tears, and looked up at Brook. “Dumbledore kept my involvement a secret from the rest of the school, so very few people know what I did. I'm always afraid that they might judge me and think less of me if they found out. I would really appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone. I hope you won't let this affect our relationship. I don't want to lose you as a friend.”

Brook, shocked at what she said, at first didn’t know how to respond. “I’d never think less of you, Ginny. Remember what Dumbledore said; lots of wizards have been taken in by Voldemort.” He pulled back a little, held her chin in his hand, looked her straight in the eye, and said, “Now, hear me, Ginny Weasley, don’t beat yourself up about this. You shouldn’t be ashamed by something you did when you were a little girl. You are almost a grown woman now, and all of us have done things we are not proud of as children.”

That got Ginny giggling and she couldn’t stop. “What is so funny?”

Between giggles, she was able to get out, “You sounded like my mum so much, I would have thought you were her, but you’ve only met her the one time.”

“Well, it sounds like I need to get to know her better; I think I might like her.”

“Maybe we can arrange that.” There was a short pause and then Ginny put her head down into Brook’s shoulder again and just snuggled in. She let out a little contented sigh as Brook pulled a blanket up around them and pulled her in tighter. As he held her, Brook thought back to his nightmares when he was twelve concerning the red haired girl. If those dreams really were Ginny, the timing of the nightmares when he was twelve would have been right. This is getting weirder and weirder. It's seeming more and more likely that I have actually been dreaming events in Ginny’s life. His mind kept reviewing what he remembered of those dreams until he finally relaxed and fell asleep while holding her.

Brook was awakened when the sunlight started coming through the window, signaling morning. He was a little confused when he realized that he wasn’t in his bed and then remembered the events of last night and realized that Ginny and he must have laid down on the couch together sometime in the night. He looked down and saw that she was lying on his chest with her arms around him and a contented smile on her face. He reveled in the closeness for a few moments, wishing this could last longer than just one night, but listened to his conscience and decided they needed to get up. He shook her gently, “Ginny, it’s morning and you need to wake up. We don’t need anyone finding us like this and giving us detention.”

Ginny slowly awoke, stretching and smiling at Brook. “You’re right, especially a certain Head Boy, who would rend you limb from limb if he caught you sleeping with his little sister,” adding a wink. “Not to mention what Dean might do. He does have a tendency to get jealous. I'm willing to keep this between the two of us if you will.”

As she got up and started to walk toward the girls’ stairway, she looked back and said, “Thank you, Brook. That’s the best night sleep I’ve ever had after a nightmare.”

Too quietly for her to hear, Brook responded, “Me too, Ginny, me too.”

***********

Th e next few days were busy as they had Quidditch practice every evening. The first match of the year, against Slytherin was that Saturday and Ron was really pushing them hard. Ginny said that he was channeling his inner Wood, which made the other team members laugh, but Brook didn’t get the joke. A couple of times, as he was supposed to be looking for the Snitch, he found himself staring at Ginny as she flew with abandon around the pitch. But then he would see her pass to Dean, and that would break his reverie. After practices, Ginny and Dean would walk back to the castle together, sometimes his arm around her, congratulating her for a good practice. He would walk behind them, not paying attention to whatever Ron was saying about strategies and such, wishing it was his arm and not Dean’s that was around her.

One evening, shortly before curfew, Ron, Hermione, and Brook had been studying Charms for several hours when Ron leaned back, stretched, and said, “All this studying has made me hungry. Fancy a trip to the kitchens?”

“When aren’t you hungry?” asked Hermione. Brook heard a little snort on the other side of the room and noticed Ginny with her hand over her mouth, trying to stifle a laugh. When their eyes met, Ginny winked at Brook before turning back to her book.

Those days, Ginny gave Brook quite a few smiles, which he returned, but he felt guilty about what had happened. I slept with my roommate’s girlfriend!. Well, not slept with, (although with guilt he admitted those thoughts were crossing his mind) but fell asleep with. He had to keep reminding himself to keep his distance, despite the fact that he wanted to go over to her and hold her like he had that night. Then, he found himself taking different ways to class just to see her or studying in the library when he knew she would be there. At times, he felt like a stalker and felt guilty again, but most of the time, he couldn’t help himself, sneaking quick glances at her in the common room, or down the table at meals. It was really starting to be a problem during Transfiguration. He sat behind her in class, and he found that he was having a hard time concentrating on Professor McGonagall’s lectures. Every time the Professor would start to speak, he was drawn to Ginny’s hair, how it wasn’t just red, but it had orange, copper, and gold highlights. He was fascinated by how it would look differently in bright sunlight coming in the windows or from the candlelight if it was a dark cloudy day. He was transfixed by the way it would move when she turned or lifted her head. He wanted to run his hands through it, feeling the silky softness of it. He was close enough to smell her shampoo, and the subtle aroma of flowers was intoxicating. Then, after studying her hair, his eyes moved down to her back, and then they would travel further down, and even in her robes, he would imagine her cute bum, but then he would stop himself, knowing that what he was thinking was wrong and try to pay attention to the lecture for a few minutes before becoming distracted again. He had even lost House points once for not paying attention in class.

“You coming, Brook?” asked Ron, bringing Brook out of his thoughts.

“Um, sure. How do we get to the kitchens? I never found them when I was exploring the castle this summer.”

“You just have to know how to get in. The twins taught us lots of hidden parts of the castle while they were here.” The trio walked toward the Great Hall, but then took a staircase that Brook guessed led them directly below it. They reached what looked like a dead end (Brook knew that appearances can be deceiving) with a large painting of a bowl of fruit. Ron reached up and seemed to be tickling the pear. Brook was about to ask what he was doing when the pear giggled and squirmed before a green doorknob appeared. Ron then pulled on the knob, revealing a large kitchen, filled with cauldrons and ovens.

But Brook was taken aback when he saw numerous small creatures scurrying around, doing various kitchen duties such as baking, stirring cauldrons, and washing dishes. The creatures were all between two and three feet tall, had large heads with bat-like ears and eyes the size of tennis balls. He also noticed that when these creatures spotted the students, they all tended to avoid them. “What are those?” whispered Brook.

“These are Hogwarts’ house-elves,” said Hermione, in an obviously perturbed mood. “How do you think all of the cooking, cleaning, and laundry gets done around here? Magic?!” She practically spat out the words.

“What do you have against house-elves, Hermione?” asked Brook.

She let out an exasperated sigh. “I don’t have anything against the house-elves, but their situation. You see, they are powerful magical beings and can do some things that even wizards and witches cannot, but they are magically bound to serve their masters and have no freedoms. They live an existence that is basically slavery and it’s not right that it is allowed!”

“Now, you’ve done it, mate. You’ll never get her to stop talking about it now,” muttered Ron.

Hermione stuck her tongue out at Ron and then turned back to Brook and continued. “While the Magical community has so many positives, sometimes it is absolutely medieval. This is just one example. At least the house-elves here at Hogwarts are treated well. Many of the older families have house elves and they are treated abominably! They are abused, physically and verbally, and considered as nothing more than property. If I ever get a chance, I am going to try to make their lives better and work to outlaw this practice.”

Ron added, “Hermione’s been on this cause since fourth year when she first learned of their existence. She even formed a club called the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare, or SPEW for short."

"That's S.P.E.W. and you know it, Ronald!"

"Sorry, 'Mione," he said with a little wink to Brook. "Anyway, she tried to free them by leaving knitted clothes for them in the common room, but that only resulted in them refusing to clean it. Boy, did it get messy quickly.”

“That only shows how spoiled we all are. If the students just picked up after themselves and didn’t leave food all over the place, it wouldn’t have been so bad.”

“You lost me there, Ron,” stated Brook. “How would leaving clothes free the elves?”

Hermione interjected, “If a house-elf receives clothes from a master, then he or she is freed and may then go out and earn a living instead of being enslaved.”

“What Hermione doesn’t seem to understand that the house-elves don’t want to be freed. They genuinely seem to enjoy serving their masters. That’s why they refused to clean the common room; they didn’t want to be free.”

“That’s only because they don’t know any better.”

“If you say so, ‘Mione.”

While the couple was arguing, one of the house-elves cautiously approached. “Ahem. Master Wheezy, Miss Granger, Master Po . . . er Pelton. Is there something we can be doing for you?” The house-elf only stopped calling Brook by his real name when Brook was shaking his head and waving his arms behind Ron and Hermione.

“Yes, Joppy. We would like some pumpkin juice and some crisps, please.” Ron turned to his friends and whispered, “I just wish they would get my name right.” The three students sat at a small table, enjoying their snack, but Brook did notice that Hermione snuck some suspicious glances at him when she thought he wasn’t looking.

**********

The night before the Quidditch match, Hermione and Brook were reviewing Charms. “Now, what’s the difference between Aguamenti and Aqua Erecto?” asked Brook.

“Aguamenti is more for shooting water a short distance while Aqua Erecto directs a focused stream of water for greater distances,” replied Hermione. “Here, let me demonstrate. You go over to that window and open it and look out while I do the same to this window.” They went and opened adjacent windows and leaned out a little. “This is Aguamenti.” She said the spell and water came out of the tip of her wand, travelling 2-3 feet before losing strength and falling to the ground. “This is Aqua Erecto.” This time a one inch diameter tube of water shot straight out about twenty feet before starting to bend downward. They closed the windows and sat back down.

“Thanks, Hermione. That helps a lot. Sometimes you just need to see something no matter how many times you read it in a book.”

Surprisingly, Hermione agreed, considering it had to do with pointing out a shortcoming of books.

“I have another question for you, Hermione, but it doesn’t have anything to do with class. You know the phrases that Muggle magicians use, like ‘presto chango’ and ‘hocus pocus’. Are they real spells that a wizard or witch could use?”

“No, they are just nonsense phrases.”

“What about ‘abracadabra’?”

“It’s nonsense also. Why do you ask?”

“Well, I have these nightmares in which a wizard points his wand at me and yells what sounds to me ‘abracadabra’. I figured it was just my imagination combining my Muggle upbringing and my new world, but I thought I would check.”

“After the wizard said this, was there anything else?”

“Just a flash of green light.”

He thought for a moment. “Yeah, I guess that could be it.”

“Avada Kedavra is also known as the Killing Curse. It is one of the three unforgivable curses. It instantly kills anyone who is hit with it. No shield can block it and there is no counter curse.”

Brook thought to himself, what does this dream mean? but gave it up after a while. They worked for a few more minutes when Brook asked another question. “I’m a little confused on the essay on protective wards for Charms. Does he want us to discuss the theory behind wards or does he want us to cover the process of making wards?”

“Actually, I think he wants us to do both. At least that is what I did. To do the ten feet that he requested, you really need to discuss both.”

“How many feet did you write?”

“Well, I did eighteen, but you know that I tend to overdo . . .” In midsentence, Hermione stopped talking and just stared off into space.

“Are you alright, Hermione?” asked Brook. When she didn’t respond, he shook her shoulder, but she still didn’t seem to know he was there. After about thirty seconds, just when he was deciding to get up and get Madam Pomfrey, she gasped and shook her head. When she came to, she was pale and looked frightened.

“What happened, Hermione? What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Well, no, I guess that isn’t that big a deal, is it? Ok, you look like you’ve seen a Hungarian Horntail.”

“Oh, it’s nothing.” She now looked on the verge of tears. “I’ve got to go up to my dorm; it’s getting late. Good night, Brook.” She practically ran across the common room to the stairs as she left. Brook followed her with his eyes, concerned that she was hiding something.

He saw Lavender, sitting at a table. “Lavender, could you go up and check on Hermione? She just ran out of here nearly in tears and I just want to make sure she is ok.”

She had a little twinkle in her eyes when she replied, “Sure, Brook, I can do that.” Brook paced a little while he was waiting, but when Lavender returned, she said, “Hermione is in her bed with the curtains pulled. I asked if she was okay and she said she was and she sounded alright.”

“Thanks for checking on her.” Brook decided it was time to turn in as well, but he was puzzled as to what had occurred. He fell asleep pondering Hermione’s odd behavior.