6

As soon as Care of Magical Creatures was over, Neville bolted. Not literally, but he did try to blend into the hut before anyone could see him leaving. Unfortunately, Neville had never been very good at sneaking around. "Hey, Neville!" Harry called from behind Neville's retreating form.

Neville accidentally let a sigh of frustration escape his lips before turning to face the 'boy wonder.' "Yeah?"

"Hey," Harry repeated, as if Neville were too dull to understand the first time. As soon as Harry came alongside Neville, the two began trekking back toward Hogwarts. As the Gryffindors walked, Neville got the feeling that Harry wanted to know something and was just waiting a moment to get Neville off guard. "So," Harry began, making his silent companion roll his eyes. "Is Rory doing alright? You said she had to go to the hospital wing."

Ah, it was about her. "Yeah, she said she was fine. I think that she just had a stomach ache, most likely some food she ate." Neville kept walking, trying to get away from Harry and his curiosity.

"Oh, that's good. Well, I'll see you around then?" And Harry left.

Yeah, that's what people tended to do. They asked a question, got an answer, and left. Short conversations, greetings; the small things. No one really thought of Neville as being a good listener or someone worth talking to. No, he was back-up for when someone's friend was unavailable or unconscious, which was a usual hobby for some of the braver students of Hogwarts.

Neville kicked at the gravel beneath his feet and kept going. What was wrong with that girl, Rory Carmon?! Nearly everyone would immediately befriend her if her personality were more hospitable. She was gorgeous, and she was different. The accent, the slight curving down of her mouth at the edges, as if she had never learned how to smile. She was scary, but she had the entire school in the palm of her hand, and she had been there less than one day! Whereas, Neville had been there for four years, going on five, and still got lost on the way to classes.

Then there was the obvious interest Harry had for Rory. First the dinner, where she had basically told him to get lost, and then the questions he asked after class. Neville hadn't seen her the night before, because he had gotten lost again after Trevor, his pet toad, had hopped away, but he had heard of the things she had said. Suddenly, his face met wood and he collapsed, clutching his forehead.

Running into trees now? Great! Just great! As if he didn't already feel bad, now trees were leaping in front of him to tackle poor Neville with its wooden appendages. A stream of profanities slid from his tongue, but they felt foreign and sour on his tongue. Gran-Gran had raised him better than that!

He raised himself off of the ground and looked at the watch on his wrist. It was broken... again. Sighing in damnation, he turned and began his trek to the castle. Today was a slow day—hallelujah—and his next class wasn't until two. Looking up at the clock tower, Neville was surprised to find that it was only 1:07. Fifty-three minutes of nothingness awaited him, something completely normal for a friendless loser such as himself.

Rory made her way from the hospital wing. Madam Pomphrey had only given her a note to have an excuse from Care of Magical Creatures. The school nurse had never been able to figure out why she had to keep refilling the sleeping pills for that girl. Everything indicated that Rory was normal, and that she should be able to sleep peacefully, but without the pills, she'd begin retching within an hour of falling asleep. It had only begun occurring regularly after the explosion. Before that incident, the problem had only bothered Rory a few times a month.

1:58... She'd be late for Charms, but Professor Flitwick wouldn't mind. No one minded as long as the work was done and she didn't do anything noticeably wrong. When Rory's feet led her to her spot in a far corner, the professor didn't even look up. She sat down, everyone else's eyes focused on the work before them.

"Well," the elf shrieked. "Welcome back to Charms. We will begin this year like every other... with review. I know all of the things I taught you last year have been forgotten."

As class progressed, it was obvious who was terrible and who was great. Rory watched as the boy—Neville wasn't it?—caught several books atop the professor's desk on fire. Everyone just laughed, but no one got up to help as the books set fire to his wand as well. "Poor kid," Rory thought to herself. With a blink, the fire was out. She would hate herself later on, she knew, but this boy seemed to be just as alone as she, and it hurt.

A boy turned his head to stare at Rory, who had taken her usual place in the corner. The jolt he had sensed still had bumps rising up and down his arms. The hair on the back of his neck slowly crept back down, snuggling into place. He could sense the power radiating from her. More than scaring him, it fascinated him. What she was... people would die for information like that. A smirk lifted the left corner of his mouth. He'd watch... and wait. Neville was the key, and he knew it. The two opposites had quite a bit in common. When the time was right, he'd act.

The rest of the day went by pretty fast for some people. For others, it consisted mainly of breathing and casting spells that had to be learned. Several people kept wary eyes on the new fifth year as she ate in silence in her claimed place. The meal was delicious, but hardly a word passed between the lips of the two nearest Rory. They trembled each time her fork scraped more harshly against the plate, or she coughed.

But Rory wouldn't give in to forcing a conversation this time. She left the hall, jostled between people, and took a seat nestled into a junction of walls in the Gryffindor Common Room and hugged her knees to her chest. People Watching: a hobby that had always amused her. No one noticed her, or pretended not to, as she sat there, seemingly lost in her own world.

The clock chimed another hour. The lights were beginning to dim and a few people began going upstairs to the dorms. Rory went up and got ready for bed. Silence... silent fear. The others didn't know her; couldn't know her; would never understand. That's what she thought, at least.

The same girl that had sent up Rory's schedule approached. "Granger. Hermoine Granger," the girl introduced herself, looking over at the white-haired girl. "You're Rory, right?" When the other nodded, she continued. "The professor asked me to give you the assignment since you missed class." With a small nod, she plopped a book on the edge of Rory's bed.

Rory glanced at it before shaking her head and saying, "I've already read it."Hermoine's eyes widened, but soon returned to their normal size. "You have?" she asked, not bothering to try to hide the surprise that seeped into her voice.

"Yes."

"Um... Well, Neville said you went to the hospital wing. I hope you're feeling better."

"I am. Thank you." Hermoine began walking away to her bed. As she lay down, Rory's small voice spoke up over the chatter of the other girls. "You need to watch out."

"Huh?" Hermoine demanded, flipping over to stare at the other girl. Was she threatening her? What horrors did this girl possess?

"In Potions class, that boy that sits behind you is changing your potion," Rory explained, her already dead eyes losing even more light as she watched the other girl's fear flash across her face before being masked over. "He didn't do anything dangerous today, but I think he was trying to."

Hermoine's fear dissipated and she was left facing Rory's back and staring in amazement at the back of the girl's head. "Thank you," she whispered, turning away and closing her eyes, willing sleep to drive away her confusion.

The night sped on and by 11:30 all but one had finally drifted off to sleep. Rory opened her eyes, not bothering to pretend to sleep. After forcing herself to get up, she readied for bed, hesitantly settling back into bed forty-five minutes later. A small pill was clutched in her hand, her eyes glaring at the bit of medication. Never had she liked medicine or drugs. Too many memories of her parents, attempting to make a new wonder drug, assaulted her. Her eyes slammed shut, failing to block out the mental pictures of her smiling family. Finally the pill slid between her cold lips; a swallow of water accompanied it. The depressant was strong. Her eyes didn't open. Sweet, sweet sleep.

White. Everything was white. Her pale body was just a shade tanner than the white gown she wore. Her hair was whiter than everything around her, as if absorbing the walls' and beeping machines' and bed's purity. A needle pumped a dark, dark red liquid into her wrist. A sob tore from the back of her throat. "What's wrong with me?" she screamed, taking her free left hand and clawing at the strap around her waist, pinning her down.

A tone sounded, like the high pitched noise from big trucks when they backed up, except this tone was steady and constant. A door clicked open and shoes squeaked against the floor. At least the incessant noise had stopped. "Are you awake?" a man's gruff voice demanded.

Rory's violet eyes swiveled to focus on the man. He was rather short and stocky; A slightly balding man with squinty brown eyes in a white lab coat that made him look like a floating head in the white wilderness.

"What's going on?" Rory demanded, her voice scratchy from disuse. When he just smiled at her and adjusted one of the monitors, she yelled even louder. "Who are you? Where am I? What do you think you're doing?"

The man sat down on a chair that was lying far enough from the bed that, if her arms had been released, she still could not reach him. "Do you know what the liquid that's going into your arms is?" he asked, the first words he dared utter.

"Answer me!" Rory screamed, trying to focus. A swirling, cloudy gray-blue haze was trying to tug her back to unconsciousness.

"This amazing concoction prevents you from using your powers. You can't hurt me." The strange man's face seemed to get clouded in darkness. A crazy, demented cover flashed across his blue eyes.

"Then unchain me!" she protested, trying to tug her body out of her shackles.

"No, no. There's no need. You have to sleep soon." A smile began inching its way across his face. "But for now, I have a question or two. Do you know your name?"

"No, of course I don't know my own name," Rory snapped sarcastically, still trying to move the metal bars from around her middle and glaring at the one trapping her ankles.

"Answer truthfully. You're in no position to be arguing." Rory just scowled in reply, and the man took that as a form of consent. "What are your parents' names?"

Even though Rory knew it was a dream, she also had the notion that this was a real situation, that if she answered his questions, something would go horribly wrong. "Donald and Daisy Duck," she replied in all seriousness.

Her smug smile was ripped off when pain split across her face, her cheek jamming against her teeth. Rory didn't see as the man's hand retreated or the demented glance from the madman, but she could taste the trickling blood. She choked liquid metal, coughing to try to rid herself of the awful taste.

"You will answer truthfully! Do you understand?" the man screamed.

Rory turned and spit the terrible liquid at him. A dark red stain drooled from his cheek and ignited his blue eyes in flames of fury. He sprang up and grabbed Rory's arm, the one with the IV. Pain shot up her arm, ending all the way up in her head. The man took out a vial. "This will teach you, stupid girl," the man growled, taking out a needle. The IV was torn from her wrist, only to be replaced by the needle. The light green liquid filled her blood stream. Fear clawed its way through, along with the poison.

Suddenly a flash of small, yellowish lights broke through and Rory could see the Gryffindor bed with all of the others girl's belongings and one girl's concerned face. Hermoine.

The next instant, the white room was back. The man's maliciousness tore at her arm, where he stared at the blood dripping from her wound as he roughly bound it in a white cloth, stained in fresh vibrant red.

When Rory blinked, Hermoine was cautiously shaking her. "Come on. Classes are going to start soon."

Rory tried to move, but when she opened her eyes again, the man was taping the tourniquet while her hand began going blue with lack of blood.

Another blink and Hermoine was in clear focus. Rory's eyes blinked up, uncomprehendingly at the other girl. "What's our first class?" she groaned, sitting up and barely missing a collision of heads with the other girl.

Hermoine stepped back, surprised that Rory hadn't yelled at her for having been woken up. "Oh...uh... I have Ancient Runes, but I think you've got Divination.

"Oh, alright. Thank you." Rory tried to lift herself up, but found her arm too heavy to lift. The other arm wouldn't move either.

"Are... are you coming?" Hermoine asked from the door. "There's only half an hour until classes start."

Rory just nodded in affirmation. "I'll be on time. Don't worry; I will." Hermoine gave her an odd look.

"This is the most I've ever heard you talk," she smiled softly. "It's quite refreshing, to tell you the truth." She walked out and Rory trained her ear to the other girl's footsteps retreating downstairs. Now for the problem at hand, why couldn't her arms move? She tried again to lift her arm.

Success! Whatever mystic force had held it to the bed had released her. But why hadn't it worked before?

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hey, all my readers. I'd just like to say thanks for keeping up with the story and bearing with my annoying random absences for so long. Now that I am back, I have a few requests to make; please review! It would help a lot in figuring out which direction I want this story to go. Also, if anyone would like to beta or needs a beta, just send a message my way. I'm a lot faster with my editing, by the way. Anyway, a new chapter should be up soon, to make up for the lost time. Enjoy! ^.^