Written for the Dream-Plot Challenge by Maria Mississippi.

J. K. Rowling owns Harry Potter.

It's so dark, and I'm not even sure if I'm awake or asleep.

I reach to turn on the lamp that I hope is still in the same spot, and it is. I pull the decorative string and the light comes on.

I notice that there is a box of tissues at the base of the lamp; how odd.

I impulsively reach out and take one, and then I pause.

What would I need a tissue for anyways? I wonder, fingering the tissue in my hand.

I hear a scream from far away...

I hastily get up and push the heavy blanket off myself, then leap off my bed and tip-toe out the door.

I am almost sure that it was Ron who screamed, but why?

Probably Fred and George, I guess.

I yank Ron's bedroom door open to see a deranged-looking boy sitting up in bed with his eyes closed.

My brother.

"The spiders! The spiders! Ginny, is that you! Get them away!" he yells.

"Shut it, Ron," I mutter, swaying a little.

I'm dead tired, as it is hardly past midnight and I went to sleep an hour ago.

"Help!" he screeches, and I roll my eyes.

"Don't worry," I say. "I'll squish it with this tissue. Where is it?"

Ron's eyes abruptly flash open, and he says, in confused tone, "What tissue?"

I look down and see that I'm not holding a tissue.

It must have been a dream.