A Peculiar String of Bizarre Dreams

Chapter 21: A Huge Fan

I settle down in a row behind the three best friends, feeling dubiously ready for Potions, even though Snape hasn't arrived yet.

Before following the group of first years to class, I threw on a black robe that I found in the Common Room. It is long and bulky enough to cover my denims and inadequate student attire. I also borrowed a book lying around in the Common Room. Its cover reads Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander. Hopefully, Snape or the other students won't notice that I don't have the required textbook. For added measure, I hunch over my scarce supplies so that they're not on obvious display for the keen eye or two.

When my paranoia is almost reaching its peak, the classroom door bangs open and an ominous hush falls over the room. Severus Snape makes his signature appearance and walks up to the front of the class. I stare at him, dumbfounded.

He looks malicious as ever with his translucent skin and raven black hair. I feel petrified, I don't think I have it in me to have impromptu conversations with Snape.

In his casually severe manner, he announces that today we will be reviewing the procedure for making the Forgetful Potion.

Within seconds, I observe students flipping open their textbooks and going over the instructions, while know-it-alls jump straight to pouring ingredients from vials and containers and fervently stirring concoctions together.

I take my cue from the students reviewing the text and not participating in the practical aspect of potion-making. Imitating them, I open my book on fantastical beasts to a random page and scowl at unrelated words like centaurs and centuries.

I try to steady my breathing and think rationally. Okay, so what could be the worst thing that could happen if Snape caught me midst my fraudulent schemes? He could torture me with an awful dark spell, maybe jinx or curse me? But he wouldn't risk doing that to a first year, would he?

He could deduct points from my supposed house, Gryffindor. But surely that would be too mild a punishment...he'll see right through me, he'll know I'm lying if I tell him I accidentally brought the wrong book.

Or he might send me to the Headmaster!

And then maybe Dumbledore can help me whisk up a new cloak. I know, I know, the old man probably has a thousand important things on his mind, but a spare second to help a muggle shouldn't be a big deal, right?

In all seriousness though, I might get thrown out of the school, to fend for myself, without even meeting Dumbledore. Fact is, Muggles don't belong in Hogwarts.

Before I realize, with my head bent over my book almost the entire time, the class is over. I've somehow missed idiosyncratic incidents like Snape scolding the trio, or favouring students from Slytherin. And good heavens, where was Draco Malfoy?

I must have been too worried about getting caught because I've definitely reached the apex of my daydreaming: I tuned out everyone around me and my thoughts were the only sound I heard.

The three best friends are out before I can catch them. But I've already set a time after dinner to meet Harry outside the Common Room. So, I let myself wander around the place.

I drift about the grounds and soon notice specks of people in the sky, flying on broomsticks. I gape at them bright-eyed, my pulse quickening.

Quidditch.

Based off the yellow uniforms, I deduce that the Hufflepuff team is practicing for a game. I find an obscure corner and watch them play for a while. I imagine what it must feel like to fly on a broomstick. They would instinctively know a muggle was in their presence if they asked me to fly like that, because I wouldn't be able to.

The players are still playing when I decide to further explore the premises.

I notice a hut-like structure, with smoke piping out through the chimney jutting out of its side. Hagrid.

I run towards it and then quickly stop. What will I say to him? "Yes, umm hello Hagrid, I'm a huge fan, it's an honour to meet you." Yeah, I don't think that will go very well.

Instead, I find a tree close to his house and plop myself down under its shade. I take Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them out of my bag. 'My' bag, that I also stole from the Common Room; surprisingly, the room had a bunch of misplaced objects lying around today. I'm glad that it worked out in my favour.

I pretend to read the book in my hands and glance up every few minutes to check if Hagrid has come out of his hut. Almost an hour goes by but he does finally come out — a living breathing incarnation of him, right before my eyes, realer than the books and movies.

He appears taller than ever, equivalent in height to the tree under which I sit. His haggard beard and hair warm my heart with familiarity. Dressed in several brown-black coats and chunky dark boots, Hagrid is intimidatingly delightful.

I wish Marion was here with me. She would love to talk to all these people from this realm. Marion, my dear old town-private-investigator, would probably exhaust the time traveling ability to forever live in this world. Even if that meant sacrificing herself as colossal damage caused by Voldemort's destruction.

In all my wistfulness, I don't realize that the sky has dimmed and the sun's last traces are bidding adieu to pink and orange streaked clouds. A vintage clock in a corridor claims that it is quarter to seven.

I've missed dinner, that's for sure. But I'm not hungry, perhaps I still have enough strength from the royal meal I ate in Lykineria.

I immediately begin to find my way back to the Gryffindor Common Room.

I remembered that it's on the seventh floor. But since I didn't know the password for entering it, I told Harry I would meet him outside it around 7 o'clock.

Blending within a fictitious world is not an easy task; one has to think ahead. Especially in a dangerous wonderful world like this one.

The school's staircases are predictably unpredictable, I wobble around like jello over several steps but eventually arrive at my destination.

And then, I fiercely hope that Harry Potter will show up to help me.