I opened the door to our room at the Leaky Cauldron, knowing that I would definitely want to get to get to sleep early tonight. Tomorrow, I would be going to Hogwarts! My parents and brother were not magical, making me a muggle-born. We were very surprised when I got my acceptance letter. A professor from the school, named Professor Flitwick, I think, came to explain to my parents and I about me being magical. Now, in fourteen hours time, at eleven o'clock tomorrow morning, I would be boarding the Hogwarts Express from Platform Nine and Three Quarters.

When I got into bed, I forced myself to fall asleep quickly. I turned on an audio-book of my favourite story, and listened. I began dreaming. Half-way through a dream, however, everything became blurry. I squinted, but still, nothing came into focus. Then, I saw a odd stone basin come out of the fog. It was all I could see. When I approached it, I couldn't tell whether its contents were liquid or gas. They had a silvery quality, yet seemed clear. I really wanted to touch it, but somehow that seemed rather idiotic. I did, anyway. Immediately, I fell into the basin, which I was informed by a voice was a Pensive. I looked around, and saw no one. Black smoke was shooting down from where I had falled from. It formed structures; an abandoned-looking house, overgrown shrubbery, and tall trees that looked like they might fall at any moment. I waited for the black smoke to form the person which I had heard. It didn't. I heard the voice again, telling me where to go. I followed the voice's direction, and entered the house.

Fifteen minutes later, I awoke with a start. The last words from the voice were running through my head, "This is my memory. Be careful who you tell the contents. It is wanted by the former Death Eaters. It will help them finish what You-Know-Who started." The female voice told me, urgently. "The memory cannot be destroyed. If the only person with this memory dies, it will go to the closest person--not emotionally closest--to the deceased. I will soon be dead, so I have chosen to give the memory to you, rather than my murderer.  After my death, you must confide the contents of this memory to one other person. My name is Memoria Custos." I think she kept talking, but I woke up. There were also parts I didn't understand. How could I see someone's memory? What were Death Eaters? And You-Know-Who? I didn't know who. How had this Memoria Custos invaded my dream? I shook my head. This was a dream. Simply a dream. I looked over at the clock, it was 3:37. I rolled over, and tried to fall back asleep.