Our World As It Is

Chapter 5: Lost in Oblivion

Chapter 5: Lost in Oblivion

"Wow..." she breathes. Her voice trails quietly in the air, picked up by the branches as they carry the last of her breath up higher into the night. A few stars wink in the sky, seeming to have a conversation with the crescent moon.

She approaches the translucently pale, yellow dome slowly, both in caution and in awe. The relaxed face, the slowly heaving chest, the bed of petals and deep green leaves make the man seem like an innocent boy, accidentally having fallen asleep after having passed the hours by, playing. His lightning scar seems to harmonize with the surroundings, simply personalizing it, rather than bringing memories of an unpleasant past. The frame of withered and weary bark would seem foreboding, had it not been for the lively and rich brown colour, almost golden from the softly luminescent cage.

Her large hazel eyes reflect the scene in wonder, widening with every step she takes, but closing with a sigh every time she holds herself back, afraid to ruin such a serene moment. Her bare feet welcome the dark green grass, overgrown and wild, making a flat carpet for the visitor with every step she took.

Finally, she reaches the dome, taking the chance and putting her hand against it. It is as smooth as glass, as warm and cozy as a hearth. She relaxes, and any lingering tension in her body ebbs and flows out of her body like the tide with the moon.

Suddenly, a wind blows and the grass flies up, pricking her ankles and blowing her curly hair into a knotted mess around her face. She throws up her hands shielding her features. The dazing spell is broken. Her eyes are alert, becoming panicked as they see the grey-black smoke tickling in from the edges of the dome, working their way to the sleeping boy.

No! Harry! she seems to yell, though nothing is heard in the dome. Wake up! Please!

She shakes her head in all directions, letting her eyes lead it as she searches for a way to save him. And that is when she sees it. A piercingly bright, but overwhelmingly frail and thin hair-like strand, branching from over his heart, leading off the bed down the side of the tall wooden frame, to a small brown heap, a little ways away from the edge of the cage.

She does not know what that book is. She does not know the name, nor author, nor the exact contents. But she knows it is the key. She knows that it is the only solution.

She bangs against the dome that separates her from the now horrifying scene. The grass dies as the smoke brushes over it. The already withered wood seems to fall apart as it passes over, inching its way to the sleeping boy. Her fingers scratch, claw and push. Her eyes leak tears and she yells.

She screams. She shrieks. She cries.

"Harry! HARRY!-"

"HARRY!" Hermione bolts up in her bed. Her hands clutch the bed sheet and her eyes dart to every corner of the room, trying to identify her surroundings. Her heart beats faster, roaring in her ears, her left hand grasping her shirt in an attempt to keep it from coming straight out of her body. Her breathing is the only sound in the room, loud and heavy, a marathon in its own right.

Slowly, her eyes identify the large window and the neat desk. She is nearly startled again when she sees the eye peering back from beyond the dresser table, in the mirror. But this is a familiar scene. It is her home. She can be calm.

With a final deep breath heaving all her body and exhaling all the worry, her back slouches and calms. It was just a dream.

She glances at the alarm clock, glaring 5 AM in annoyingly bright red characters. She sighs, Might as well.