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[HP] 98: Infiltrating the Dream
🕑 Added 2025-08-12 17:13:18 +0000 UTCFor a dream demon, finding a target among the drifting clouds of dreams was hardly difficult.
In a dream demon’s eyes, every person’s dream carried its own unique scent—just as there could never be two identical people, there could never be two dreams exactly alike.
Louis walked through the realm of dreams.
The so-called “dream space” was a dimension very close to reality, a sort of inner world that served as the foundation for all dreams. Through it, Louis could traverse from one dream to another, even achieving physical displacement.
At this moment, Louis’s state was rather special. His hair floated and lengthened, gradually fading into the dream space. His body shimmered faintly, suffused with a soft, dreamy blue glow. His facial features had subtly changed too—the lines softer, carrying an almost bewitching charm.
This was the dream demon form, allowing Louis to draw out the full extent of the dream demon power within him.
The dream space was bizarre and surreal, with distorted reflections of real-world objects—much like how a person’s dreams were always fantastical and illogical.
The tall tower representing Ravenclaw’s dormitory stood upside-down on the ground, while fluffy dream-clouds seemed to sprout from its abstract form like cotton.
Parting the clouds that blocked his way, Louis found Hermione’s dream deep within the tower.
Inside, the dream was of himself and Hermione reading books together in the library. He hadn’t expected Hermione to be such a diligent student—studying even in her dreams.
Louis chuckled softly, then stepped into her dream as easily as if he were walking through the door of his own home.
The inside of the dream was still warped and strange, a reflection of the human subconscious.
For instance, in Hermione’s dream-library, nothing seemed unusual at first glance—but the bookshelves and walls curved and merged in odd, irregular ways. Disordered colors swirled through the air. Faceless, misshapen classmates wandered between the twisted shelves, sometimes walking atop them, sometimes shrinking to the size of beans to leap between the pages of books.
Without the rational mind’s control, the imagination stitched together one uncanny image after another.
Fortunately, the Louis inside Hermione’s dream didn’t have a grotesque face—he was still as handsome as ever. Apparently, in Hermione’s mind, his looks were worth preserving.
The dream went on, but it seemed to be nothing more than an ordinary daily scene. Louis shook his head, idly plucked a book from the shelf, and flipped it open.
Its pages were filled only with large patches of black and meaningless scribbles. Clearly, no matter how well the dreamer remembered them, books within dreams could never be faithfully reproduced with perfect clarity.
But that raised a question—if the books were like this, what exactly were he and Hermione reading?
Curious, Louis walked closer.
Hermione noticed his footsteps and looked up at Louis in his dream Incubus form. She didn’t seem to notice anything unusual and greeted him naturally.
“Good morning, Louis.”
Louis nodded. “Good morning, Hermione.”
Hermione tilted her head with a smile before lowering it again to read.
Louis walked up behind the “himself” in her dream—only to discover that this version of him was actually made of wood.
Or rather, the entire body was a single log, with a green leaf sprouting from where the nose should be.
At least it wasn’t growing out of the top of his head.
Louis leaned over to see what this wooden version of himself was reading.
It was a completely blank book, not a single word written inside—yet the dream version of himself was reading it with the focus and devotion of someone absorbed in a great literary masterpiece.
Louis then glanced at the book Hermione was reading. Hers did have words, but from the looks of it, the content wasn’t exactly scholarly.
“First time meeting Louis? Second time… Third time…”
The entire book was like a diary, chaotically recording every meeting between him and Hermione.
“So I’m actually pretty important, huh?” Louis thought smugly, stroking his chin.
Just then, the dream suddenly shifted.
The “Louis” who had been sitting in the chair abruptly stood, bent down, and leaned toward Hermione—only to stop mid-movement and stare at her blankly.
What scene was this supposed to be?
Louis, curious, stood to the side watching the wooden version of himself, then looked over at Hermione.
Hermione’s cheeks were faintly flushed, her expression smug, and she suddenly stood and stepped toward the wooden Louis.
Then Louis saw something truly absurd—the wooden Louis’s face actually showed a shy, bashful expression before shuffling three steps backward.
Why shy? Why?!
Louis almost gagged at his own face—his eyes burned from the sight.
The scene abruptly shifted again, the library dissolving into the moving staircases.
Such instant transitions were common in dreams, and the dreamer would feel no dissonance, only that everything was perfectly natural.
Louis also found it natural—clearly, Hermione’s dream had strung different scenes together through similar memories.
Again, the wooden Louis took a step forward, and Hermione approached with a sly smile.
Hmph! You still want to see me acting shy?
For the sake of his own eyes, Louis immediately swapped places with the wooden version—taking the role himself and stepping directly into Hermione’s dream.
The scene replayed. On the moving staircase, Hermione deliberately stepped closer, clearly intending to make Louis shy away.
But this time, the roles had reversed—the real Louis was here!
As Hermione moved closer, Louis slipped an arm around her waist, pulling her against him so their bodies pressed tightly together.
Hermione’s eyes went wide, her face filled with disbelief.
But Louis didn’t stop—his face drew closer and closer to hers. The distance shrank until their noses touched, and the warmth and softness of their lips hovered a breath apart.
“You two, keep going! You two, keep going! You two, keep going!”
A parrot with a fake beard suddenly hopped into view, chanting loudly as it fluttered above their heads.
Louis ignored it completely, lowering his head to meet Hermione’s shy, flustered gaze…
In the quiet Ravenclaw dormitory, Hermione’s eyes flew open. She sat bolt upright in bed, breathing hard, her hair tousled.
“What… what did I just dream?” she muttered to herself, touching her flushed, burning cheeks.
At Ravenclaw’s dream-space node, Louis felt the world spin before he was abruptly expelled from the dream.
“Hm? That’s it? She woke up already? That embarrassed, huh?” Louis chuckled, rubbing his chin.
He hadn’t controlled Hermione’s dream just now, so when she woke, the dream simply vanished and he was returned to the dream space.
If Louis had taken control, the dream would have turned into a nightmare—and without his permission, Hermione would never have been able to wake up.
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