Disclaimer: It's very simple. If you can find it (the character, place, thing, or idea in question) in a book with J.K. Rowling's name on the cover, it's hers. If not, it's mine.

Also, in this story, several characters are based on real people. The permission of all involved has been obtained. (In some cases, they insisted on being included.)

Thank you very much.

Chapter 1: Bedtime Reading

Privet Drive was dark, as it usually was at 1:00 in the morning on a warm summer night. Anyone on the street would have said all the lights in the houses were out. An observer from the backyards, though, would have been able to see that one light was still on, and that the occupant of the room was currently leaning on the windowsill and staring out the window.

The black-haired boy was still fairly small and scrawny, but he had a tough look about him. No one would mistake him for a wimp, even with his glasses. He had bright green eyes and, though no one could have seen it through his fringe, a lightning-bolt-shaped scar on his forehead. In short, he was Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived.

Except that at the moment I'm The Boy Who Can't Sleep Because The Nasty Nightmares Will Come And Get Me, he thought, conscious of the irony. He had lived through danger and disaster, survived several attempts on his life by Lord Voldemort, the most feared Dark wizard for a hundred years, and Voldemort's followers, the Death Eaters, and now he was afraid of dreams? Unfortunately, though, the dreams showed him everything he couldn't bear to see – the people who had died because of him, and worse, the people who might die.

He had only been back in the Dursleys' house for ten days, and for a week of that he'd been seeing his friends tortured and killed at night, every night. Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger were the most often featured, probably because they were Harry's best friends, but his year mates in Gryffindor house, Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnigan, and Neville Longbottom, showed up fairly frequently.

Ron's older twin brothers Fred and George and his younger sister Ginny also appeared often – as a matter of fact, Harry realized, Ginny was there almost as often as Hermione or Ron. Most of the other members of the DA, the illicit Defense Against the Dark Arts club Harry had headed last year, were present every now and again, but there had been one whole night dedicated to Cho Chang, the Ravenclaw seventh year Harry had briefly dated. I guess I'm not as much over her as I thought I was, Harry thought wryly.

Mrs. Weasley's boggart the summer before came to Harry's mind. Boggarts turned into whatever the person they were facing was most afraid of, and Mrs. Weasley's had turned into all the members of her family, one after another, dead on the floor. But there was no one here to cast a spell on him to take the nightmares away. That was assuming there even was such a spell. He knew there were potions for dreamless sleep, but could you take those every night? Did they have side effects? Were they addicting somehow?

And that's only some of the dreams. The rest showed him what had really happened because of him. Cedric Diggory, his fellow Triwizard champion, murdered without a chance in a graveyard somewhere in England, and all because Harry had insisted they try to split the championship honors between them.

Hermione being struck by a beam of purple light from a Death Eater's wand... Ron being attacked by a flying brain... the pain on Ginny's face as she clutched a broken ankle... Neville's screams under the Cruciatus Curse, which caused terrible agony, which had claimed the sanity of both his parents...

... and perhaps worst of all, his godfather, Sirius Black, falling through the veil at the Department of Mysteries, when Harry had gone there in the first place because he thought Sirius was there and being tortured by Voldemort.

Dreams of Sirius were especially terrible, because Sirius' fall was always in slow motion, and Harry felt that if he could only move fast enough, maybe this time he could save Sirius, but he knew even as he tried that he never could, never would. Those dreams were usually followed by the taunting laughter of Death Eater Bellatrix Lestrange, the woman who had cast the spell that had pushed Sirius through the veil, and her master...

Harry shook his head violently to get rid of that line of thought and turned his gaze into the room. His trunk was open beside his desk, where Hedwig's empty cage stood. He wondered where she was. She hasn't been back since yesterday morning. It doesn't take that long to deliver a letter to the Burrow.

A soft hoot sounded in his ear, and Harry almost jumped out the window. "Oh," he said weakly to Hedwig. "There you are." She was hovering outside the window, and Harry realized he was blocking her entrance. "Sorry." He moved aside, and she swooped in, depositing the package she was carrying on his bed.

Curious, Harry picked up the parcel. It was heavier than it looked – he was amazed that Hedwig had been able to carry it all the way from – wherever she had come from. He didn't recognize the handwriting on the outside, which worried him slightly. The only people who had ever sent him packages were Ron, Hermione, Hagrid, and Sirius, and now Sirius was dead...

He forced that thought down. One o'clock in the morning is the wrong time to think about it.

So, the parcel wasn't from Ron, Hermione, or Hagrid. Who could it be from?

Only one way to find out...

He pulled a pair of scissors out of his desk drawer and carefully slit open the top of the parcel. Then he ripped it the rest of the way.

There was a letter in an envelope on top of four individually wrapped packages. Harry tore open the letter, which was addressed in the same handwriting as the package.

Dear Harry,

Happy early birthday. I think you might like these. They're all the rage right now...

He scanned down the letter to the signature.

...hope to see you soon.

Your friend,

Ginny Weasley

Harry grinned, returned to the top of the letter, and began again.

Dear Harry,

Happy early birthday. I think you might like these. They're all the rage right now with the girls my age, and (although they won't admit it) with the boys too. Ron said they were baby stuff, but I spotted him with number 3 the other day, and then a couple days later he asked me very politely where number 4 was. Mum checked through them too, just to make sure there wasn't anything bad in them, and at first she didn't like them, but now she's crazy about them too.

Number 5 comes out in a few months. There'll probably be a release party at Flourish and Blotts – if you like them, maybe you could come along. Some people dress up like Muggles for it, and I thought even if you weren't going to come, you could give me some hints on my costume.

I got these by Owl Order for a few Knuts each. They're a little stained, but nothing's missing or messed up. I hope you like them.

Everyone is fine here. Hermione's coming in early August. Maybe for once you'll be here before she is. We all hope to see you soon.

Your friend,

Ginny Weasley

Harry put the letter aside and looked at the packages. It occurred to him that Ginny had never said in her letter exactly what they were, but her mention of Flourish and Blotts, the shop in Diagon Alley where he bought all his schoolbooks, had given him a clue...

One of the packages had a big number 1 drawn on it. I guess that's the one I should open first.

He tore it open to find what he had expected – a book. It was a thick and colorful paperback that was somewhat dog-eared and worn but looked perfectly legible nonetheless. He flipped it over to see that the book was entitled Erica Gorelli and the Indecipherable Seminar. It showed a picture of a young woman in jeans and a sweatshirt. She was sitting on a wooden box and looking utterly perplexed as a gray-haired woman in a bright pink shirt and a very large necklace spoke to her.

Harry shrugged. He didn't see what would be so interesting about this.

The other books didn't look much better: Erica Gorelli and the Hyperactive Actor, Erica Gorelli and the Insane Dorm Hall, and Erica Gorelli and the Costume of Doom.

But anything was better than sitting around, not daring to go to sleep. And hadn't there been something about this in the Daily Prophet a few days ago?

He got up and rummaged through the mess on his desk until he found the edition of the paper he'd been looking for. Sure enough, there was a second-page article about the Erica Gorelli books, and how they were taking the wizarding reading world by storm. Apparently they had originally been intended for kids between eight and twelve, but had gained a huge following among older children and adults as well.

I might as well see what all the fuss is about. He opened Indecipherable Seminar.

I'll just have a look at the first few chapters.

----

Harry blinked and looked at the clock. 3:30? What happened to 1:00?

He looked down at the book in his hands. There were a lot fewer pages on the right side of his place than there were on the left. In fact, he was nearly done with the book. Wow. This is a lot better than I thought it would be.

It had turned out to be the story of an American college student and her trials and troubles through her first semester of college. Erica was a theater major and loved the theater, but another freshman girl, Mercy Lowdale, had gotten a part Erica had really wanted. Mercy wasn't Erica's only trouble – she also had to contend with one rude and one indecipherable professor, out of four classes.

On the plus side, though, Erica had made some good friends, notably Lanie Connor, a girl who loved running and science, Lizzie Hertzfeld, a notable prankster and cook, and Edith Lee, a martial artist and musician. Being a singer herself, Erica had joined the college women's choir, and there were hints being given that eventually she would advance to the co-ed choir and possibly even be allowed to join the elite minor choir.

The parts Harry had found himself enjoying the most were the parts about Erica's family. She had three younger siblings, two brothers and a sister, and because she went to school only about an hour from her hometown, she could go home on some weekends to see them and her parents. The family love Harry had seen displayed in the Weasley household in real life was repeated here in fiction.

Whoever wrote this is really good. He looked at the author's name. K.J. Terning, huh? Never heard of him... or her.

He reached for the Prophet again. K.J. Terning was an American witch who had published under her initials for the exact reason Harry had discovered for himself – so no one would know if she were male or female. She thought that boys were unlikely to read a book written by a woman and about a girl, but girls were unlikely to read a book written by a man.

What she apparently hadn't anticipated was that her books would become a huge success, with everyone in America, Britain, Australia, and anywhere else wizards and witches spoke English snatching copies. They had been translated into several other languages as well, and were selling just as well in France and Germany as they did in America and Britain.

Harry looked at the picture of K.J. Terning beside the article. She had long blond hair and was smiling in a bemused kind of way, occasionally giving a little wave. Harry felt a kind of kinship with her. She never expected to be famous either.

Ginny was right. These are really entertaining.

And I want to know how Erica did on her exams.

He opened the book at his place and began reading again.

When he finished, he was yawning so hard he was afraid he'd drool on the book, so he decided to give sleeping a try. His last thought before his eyes closed was of a scene from Seminar: Erica wrestling with Lanie on the floor of the lounge because Lanie had snitched her keys, with Lizzie and Edith cheering them on.

Harry slept peacefully until ten o'clock, dreaming of Ron chasing him through Gryffindor Tower because he'd stolen Ron's prefect badge, while Hermione and Ginny watched and laughed.

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