AN: Hey, guys! It's been a while. Some of you may have read my Death Note fic, in which case it's wonderful to see you again. Others may be new to my stories, and to them, I would like to say: Welcome! Hopefully you enjoy this, since I've been working on it quite a bit. I do feel that it is a big step up from my previous work, which was. Er. Not exactly the best. A

Anyway, if you enjoy this, and are a fan of the Draco/Harry fandom, then you should totally go and check out The Nameless by JustGimmehMaiCookieh. We are writing it together, and with her creativity and my writing abilities, it should be pretty awesome (not that I have a big head or anything, haha.)

Oh, and. Uh. You should also totally leave a comment, because comments make Bastet (not to mention me) happy. =D

~x~

Michelle leaned against an oak tree, breathing deeply. She glanced at the familiar woods. She never used to come here, and if she had a choice, she wouldn't be here now. When she was a child, she was terrified of this place. She was sure that monsters were lurking amongst the shadows, ready to eat unsuspecting little girls, who, she thought, must look quite a bit like sausages clumped together. Even looking at the forest now, Michelle thought of how the old trees resembled the monsters of her childhood. Its gnarled branches reached like twisted, clawed hands. It creaked like the ghost that she had been so sure existed when she was a child. She wrapped-

"No. No more of that." Michelle whispered. "From now on, I am Mitch. I am not Michelle. And I am most definitely not a girl. And most of all, I will not mope around like some fucking martyr."

Mitch sat and leaned against the oak, trying to think of a gameplan. Telling his parents that he was transgender had not been the wisest decision of his life. When he had been a young "girl", he had told his parents he was going to begin wearing trousers, because skirts were, as he put it, "inconvenient". Mitch's parents had written it off as childishness, but had grounded him for a week, so that he would understand that he must be a good little girl. Now that Mitch was fourteen, and feeling the effects of teenage rebelliousness, he had decided to tell his parents that now they would call him Mitch, and that he was a boy.

Of course, this had not been taken well by his old-fashioned parents, and he had received an old-fashioned beating. In addition, he had been locked in his room for weeks. Had it not been for his friend Andrew, he may not have survived it. Andrew was his only contact with the outside world, and Mitch's best friend. He stood up.

"That's it!" he exclaimed. "I'll call Andrew!'

Mitch pulled his cell phone out of his little gray bag and dialed Andrew's number.

Riiiing.

Riiiiing.

Riing.

"I'm sorry, but the person you are trying to reach is out of service or does not have their phone turned on. Please try again in a few minutes."

Mitch groaned in frustration. Apparently he didn't have any reception here. He looked around, trying to figure out what to do. He sighed. In all directions, a thick white fog spread, obscuring the land. All he could see were the outlines of trees and a suffocating blanket of white. Figuring that he couldn't get any worse off, Mitch chose a direction and walked towards it.

A few minutes later, he was still surrounded by white, and was in fact fairly certain he had gone in a circle. In fact, the oak tree was even there, claw-branches reaching for his blouse and hair. Instead of letting this discourage him, he walked the other way.

A moment later, he was back by the tree. Mitch's heart started pounding. He looked around for anything that would show that he was somewhere else. A pair of large, gray eyes stared from up in the tree. Like any rational boy of his age, Mitch screamed. The eyes blinked, and gave a questioning "Mrrow?"

A cat had appeared, long and thin, on one of the branches. Its black fur was sticking out in all directions, moisture clinging to it. Mitch took a deep breath and smiled, chastising himself. Obviously, the cat had been there all along, and he had only just realized it. The cat mrrowed again and hopped down from the branch, landing lightly on its paws. It rubbed against Mitch's legs and looked up at him.

Mitch, who had always been quite fond of cats, reached down and scratched the feline's ears, one of which had a silver earring. It purred contentedly.

"Hey, little guy. Where are your owners?"

The cat looked at him in the way many cats do: as if humans are complete idiots. This cat, however, took it a step further by bringing its ears back, thrashing its tail, taking a step away and licking its shoulder. Mitch shrugged, knowing that cats are a very peculiar species, but was slightly unsettled.

"Alright then. No need to get pissed off. I don't have any owners either. Just left mine actually. Sort of wondering where to go from here. Would you happen to have any idea?" Mitch chortled, amused by the idea that a cat would know where he should go.

The cat however, took this seriously, and took a few steps forward, looked back impatienty, and meowed. Mitch stared in disbelief for a moment, then sighed.

"Ok. Where to?" He placed his hands on his hips.

The cat meowed again and began walking off into the fog, tail thrashing. Mitch followed close behind, hugging himself and looking around warily. It was probably odd that he followed a cat, but at that moment Mitch did not much care. In fact, he welcomed the feline's companionship. The cat obviously had a better idea of how to get around than Mitch, since this part of the forrest was completely unfamiliar. The fog had thinned somewhat, and gave the area a magical feel. The ground was lush with moss and shrubbery, and alive with noise. Large berries glistened on bushes, and Mitch was sure that he could hear running water nearby. He suddenly became very aware of how thirsty he was.

A smooth voice spoke in Mitch's mind. "Don't eat anything here. It's not safe. And don't drink anything either."

Mitch jumped, and the cat stopped, turned and smiled-yes, smiled. It's razor-sharp teeth shone in a grin. Then, it did the unthinkable: it talked.

"What? Never heard a cat speak before?"

"Can't say I have, a-actually." Mitch spluttered, eyes widening.

The cat cackled. "God, I love scaring humans. It's so easy."

It started moving forward, and looked back at Mitch in annoyance.

"Well, are you coming or not?"

Mitch thought for a moment. It seemed wisest to simply turn around and leave. Or, better yet, stay here. But what if the cat was right, and the food and water wasn't safe?

"Since I have quite obviously gone mad, I see no harm in continuing to follow you. chances are that if I don't, I may be tricked by a toadstool or something." With that, Mitch followed the cat, who chuckled.

"Oh, the toadstools are quite kind, actually. It's those tree sprites you have to watch. Nasty buggers. Oh, here we are."

Mitch stared in confusion at the large hole that the cat was sniffing. A Mitch-sized hole. He gulped.

"Uh, where, exactly, does this lead us?" Mitch asked tentatively.

"This hole will lead us to the land of Mirror Fae, which is a nasty, godawful place. Full of the Broken. but it's the nearest Portal in a five-mile radius. Besides, Hatter is here. We might as well visit."

"Can't he come up here?"

"No. Much too dangerous. The Broken might follow, and where would that put us?"

Mitch was about to inquire where, in fact, it would put them, but the cat grabbed his skirt between his teeth and tugged. Mitch took a step back, but the cat was very insistent and jumped down the hole, Mitch's skirts still in his teeth. Mitch yelped as he tumbled into the hole, which was much larger than it first appeared.

The two fell in what felt like slow motion as the walls flew by. Mitch's hair barely stirred, though, and his skirts kept in place as the cat released him. He noticed that peculiar things were happening to him. His chest felt a lightness, then a ripping sensation, followed by another by his ribs. Pain burned him as the fabric of his blouse brushed against his wounds. A moment later, it felt as if a knife sliced his face. When he reached up to feel it, there was a stitch. Suddenly, Mitch's clothes caught fire, He screamed in anticipation of the pain, but there was none. Then, his hair was falling off in clumps, and his insides seemed to shrink as the skin of his stomach pressed against his spine. And then, he hit the ground with a thud.

"Well, aren't you a fixer-upper."

Mitch looked up at a teen with a shock of black hair falling over one of his narrow grey eyes. Out from the hair poked two large black and purple cat ears. The teenager's teeth were razor sharp, and his nose was pointed. A barbed wire seemed lodged into his neck in what looked like a collar. He adjusted his dark purple-and-black scarf to fix this. He also readjusted his matching armwarmers, as well as his black tank top. He wore old, faded jeans that were torn at the knees,and a fluffy cat tail that matched his ears and accessories thrashed behind him.

Shocked by the occurences of the last few minutes (or hours; Mitch wasn't exactly sure.), it took him a moment to respond with a witty "What?"

The former cat circled him with smooth movements, his too-long limbs moving gracefully. "The Fall wasn't exactly kind to you. You resemble one of the Broken." He sighed, reached in his pocket and pulled out a hand-held mirror. "Take a look."

Mitch stared in surprise at his reflection. His hair was cut just below the ears now, his blonde hair faded to a dull brown. His brown eyes were just as dull, and nearly black, with deep circles under his eyes. An ugly stitch covered his left cheek, where his mother had slapped him. He looked down at himself. Black scars covered his chest, which was now flat. His heart was clearly showing where there should have been flesh. His ribcage showed in another part. He had grown quite a few inches, and now reckoned himself to be nearly six foot seven! This growth had left the rest of his body much too thin, and he could see all of his bones, including his now-sharp pelvic bone that poked out of jeans that had apparently materialized while he was falling. He looked up and at the cat-boy, who was watching him with a worried look on his face. He glanced behind him, into the tunnel that they had apparently fallen into. Whispers echoed and shadows crept across the walls. Mitch cleared his throat.

"What happened?"

"I'll tell you later. Right now we need to leave. Quickly."

The cat grabbed Mitch's hand and began to run, quickly leaving the tunnel. Mitch decided that it was in his best interest to keep up, and did so as best he could while looking around.

The landscape blurred by them (Mitch seemed to have become much faster after The Fall), but Mitch could see that it was nothing like a place he would like to be. A place he would like to be would not consist of dry brown dirt, scrawny trees or a light mist. It also would not harbor malevolent beings with black eyes glaring from the trees. At one point a naked old man blurred by, with a bulbous nose and angry glare.

Finally, they came upon an oak, much like the one the cat had been laying on. This tree, however, had a sign saying come in.

"But there is no door." Mitch informed the cat-boy, who looked at him like he was stupid.

"Yes there is, stupid."

"But-"

The cat-boy opened the door of the tree, and made a mocking bow.

"After you, Dolt."

Mitch's face burned as he stepped inside the tree. How could he have not seen the door? It was bright red.

As he looked around, he thought to himself that it was a rather nice tree home, if a bit small. A small blue fire danced inside a glass jar, its flame arms and feet doing something of a tango with a thin, bright green fire. A man walked in and smiled at the flames.

"You two seem to have gotten along wonderfully. I knew that Fiona would get on amazingly with Ash." He glanced at the two flame people, then at Mitch. "I just knew it!"

The newcomer was the same height as Mitch, but looked much better. He wore a dark red suit with white lace cuffs and matching lace at his neck. His black trousers were slightly fitted, and his boots were a rich purple. His one green eye that showed from beneath his shoulder-length chestnut hair met Mitch's eyes, and his wide mouth stretched in a grin. His black-gloved hands grabbed Mitch's.

"Oh, just look at what the cat dragged in!" His voice was rich and musical. "I do hope he didn't scare you too much! Old Bastet here has a way of doing that, naughty kitty."

Bastet, who seemed to be very irritated with the man, looked away.

"He's my pet, you see-"

Bastet hissed, his eyes flashing. "I am no one's pet."

"The Queen says you are my pet, so my pet you shall be, Bastet." He said sternly, and Bastet grabbed his throat and making a choking noise. He looked back at Mitch. "Anyway, come! I must tell you what has happened! You must be parched-don't worry, I have tea."

"Sounds wonderful," Mitch croaked, following the man to a bookshelf that had been built into the tree. Small symbols were carved into the wood around it: animals, eyes and what Mitch could only assume were words of some language. He pulled out a blue book, and the room began to spin.

A moment later, they were in a large sitting room. The floor was shiny and black, with red circular rugs. Large, ornate chairs and a semicircle couch surrounded a smooth black coffee table, which reflected the white flames dancing the merengue in the fire place.

"Would you like some tea?" asked the mysterious new man, who was now wearing a black top hat that had a red ribbon held in place by a pin with a fancy H on it.

"Yes, please." Mitch said.

"What about you, Bastet?" He asked his "pet" in an endearing voice.

"No." Bastet sulked over to the couch and sat beside Mitch. He curled into a ball and rested his head on his shoulder.

Mitch looked at him in surprise. He had no issues with Bastet resting on him, but it struck him as rude.

"You do realize that this can be considered quite impolite?"

"And you realize, Human, that I don't give a damn?"

"Apparently not."

The man smiled and set down three large mugs of steaming Breakfast Tea, some sandwhiches, scones, and a few pastries. Bastet snatched his tea and glared at his apparent "owner".

"I knew you couldn't resist, Bastet."

"Fuck off, Hatter." He mumbled through his tea.

Mitch sipped his, and was suprised to find it very sweet. He grabbed a sugar-coated cookie to cut the sweetness a bit.

"So, uh, can someone please tell me what is going on?" Mitch said finally.

"Hm?" Hatter looked up from his tea, which he had been staring into. "Oh! Yes, yes. Of course. What, exactly, do you want to know?"

"Everything." Mitch replied.