Prologue: Many the Miles

What if you slept?

And what if in your sleep, you dreamed?

And what if in your dream, you went to heaven and there plucked a strange ad beautiful flower?

And what if, when you woke, you had the flower in your hand?

Ah! What then?

--Samuel Taylor Coleridge

November 1995--

A tiny orb of light.

It lay on the floor as chaos reigned sovereign in the large, ornate and dimly lit rectangular chamber. Figures and bright flashes of red and green light danced around the room. People were shouting, sweating, cursing as they pranced in and around a deep depression in the center of the chamber.

Was the orb solid? It was lying on the black-as-a-star-filled-sky floor, so it must have been solid. Who had ever heard of energy forming into a simple shape and resting upon a surface? But it was amazing how still that ball lay upon the floor, despite how many people were rushing past it. Surely the energy, vibrations of pounding feet, and whooshes of air that was emitted as partners danced their lethal waltz would cause the orb to move, roll under someone's unsuspecting foot, and be crushed instantly . . .

She was running. Sweat was pouring down her robes, soaking her bra, her hair. Lungs were straining to breath. Legs were figuratively screaming in agony. She wanted to stop running, she wanted to collapse upon the floor so that the lactic acid in her leg muscles will gradually clear.

But she knew that that desire was selfish and cowardly. The situation at hand empowered her to run forward, her own arm raised, and-- despite her parched throat-- she found the strength to scream---

***

Her dream ended suddenly. There was a sharp Crack, and the hall, the figures, the lights all disappeared from her train of thought and her subconscious vision. It was like watching a very engaging television show during a thunder storm and suddenly the screen goes black. No picture, no sound, and no static. The viewer is left staring blankly at the screen, trying to figure out what happened while they struggle to make sense of what they had seen before being so rudely interrupted by the technical glitch.

She then realized that she was lying spread-eagle upon a very soft surface that was bouncy in texture and that the back of her night clothes were all perspired. She was gazing upwards at the canopy above her bed-- yes, in two nanoseconds upon emerging from the dream, her mind deduced that she was lying on a very comfortable mattress with fine linen sheets. She felt as if she had been pushed backwards off a very tall building without warning, that she was unable to see the earth that was countless meters away from her, and she was growing even more hysterical since gravity was pushing her down at a increasing rate. When she would hit the ground and break every bone in her body, she didn't know. She kept gazing at the canopy; despite the pitch blackness of the room, she was able to make out that the canopy wasn't torn or strained in any way, and she felt better knowing that she hadn't fallen a hundred feet, through countless floors and a navy blue bed canopy before reaching her bed.

She was conscious of her breathing. In that moment, she felt more aware of the fact that she was alive than ever before. She closed her eyes and willed her heart to stop its unruly gallop in her chest; focused on taking small, regular breaths. It took some time, but eventually her lungs and heart had settled back into their typical rhythms.

Now, if only the rest of her body could relax. She needed to sleep. Sleep was a blessed state that she had treasured, longed for when she was stressed or when she wanted to repress thinking about certain troubling things. But in the past four months, sleep had ceased to be either of those things. She didn't like to sleep anymore. Sleeping caused her to reevaluate her day, assess what had gone wrong, what she should have done better. Sleep was not a treasured gift, but it was a cold necessity that she couldn't say no to. She had grown to curse her stupid human frailty that deemed sleep to be a need. In her dreams, she couldn't escape her fears like she could when she was awake. When she was eating, studying, or talking she could push her fears and worries into a far corner of her mind. Unfortunately, by bedtime, her daily woes had culminated into such a great monster, that she was powerless to the confusion, anxiety, and sorrow that gripped her nightly dreams.

Her mind was on fast-forward. What the heck had she dreamed about? This dream was different from the one last night, and all the previous nights. Orbs, a dais, flashes of light, screaming, shouting, maniacal laughter, and she running. Why was she running, to where, and to whom? In her mind, she seemed so purposeful and determined that her body acquiesced to her demands despite its anguish. Yet nothing was clear. The figures, the words, even the rectangular hall-- none of those aspects were recognizable. They were blurred and incomprehensible to her senses.

One thing that wasn't incomprehensible was the sensation of something wet trickling down her face and into the curve of her throat. Tears? No, her eyes felt dry. And anyway, she think she would have been more conscious of the sensation of weeping. Sweat? Perhaps. She licked her lips. But sweat was supposed to be salty and warm, this fluid was cold and unflavored. It was water. Surely there wasn't a leak in the place, was there? She listened hard and kept very still, she didn't hear a rush of water flowing from a major water main, of people's chatter as they observed the ruptured pipes from a distance, nor of the sound of dipping water onto the floor.

She opened her eyes. A white towel was being mopped across her brow. Who was performing the action had yet to disclose their identity until . . .

"Ooh, Mistress Elspeth!"

A wide, humanoid face with two hazel eyes that size and shape of ping-pong balls was starring into the girl's own. The creature looked stricken and fretful for her "mistress."

"Heddy was most troubled when she heard her mistress gasp in her sleep. Did Mistress Elspeth have another bad dream?" The creature proceeded to wring out her cloth before alighted elegantly upon the mattress beside the sprawled-out young woman. Not waiting for the girl to respond, the elf continued: "It's such a pity that Elspeth is tormented by such demons who won't give her slack at all. Poor, poor mistress. . . "

Elspeth swallowed quickly to moisten her throat and whispered to the creature: "Heddy, could you please fetch me some water from the tumbler on my nightstand?"

The creature bowed and returned moments later with a glass full of crystal clear, cool water. Elspeth nodded her gratitude as she pulled herself up in a sitting position, nightgown still bunched up and stuck to her back due to sweat, to receive her drink. Only after downing a glass full of water was the girl able to speak.

"You are the most noble of all house-elves, Heddy, truly you are."

The elf flushed with pleasure, "My mistress is far to kind. Come, tell me what happened in your dream."

Elspeth wrinkled her nose, "I don't know. Just flashes. I was in the dream and so were an awful lot of people. I mean, I couldn't make them out so I don't know how many there were exactly. But I just got a feeling that there were many of them. There were flashes of light, I'd say from wands but I cannot be sure. I'm just, just so damn confused, Heddy . . ."

"Maybe if Elspeth spoke to Professor Dumbledore, she'll feel better," The elf suggested, twisting her terrycloth toga in her spindly fingers. "Professor Dumbledore is a most kind man who welcomes any worry."

But Elspeth was already shaking her head, "He has too much on his plate already. My worries are nothing to what is going on." She threw herself back onto the sheets. "I just want to go home, Heddy."

"And where is that, Mistress Elspeth? Homesickness ought to be conquered by the time one begins their 5th year at school . ."

Home was a concept that Elspeth fought to ignore for several months. It was too painful to consider. It was too impossible to return home. The more Elspeth considered her home, the more she knew it was pointless to imagine returning there soon.

The elf raised a mirror to Elspeth's face and the girl wearily observed her tired countenance. The person staring at her had large grey-green eyes, curly dark brown hair, and very pale skin. With the heavy bags until her eyes and the unkempt hair that hung in tangled bunches around her face, Elspeth looked much older than her fifteen years. She licked her chapped lips and bit them to give them some color. Then she closed her eyes and laid very still. She felt the elf jump off the bed, lay the mirror upon her vanity, and abandon her bedchamber.

From the day she had arrived at Hogwarts, students and faculty alike have asked the same question in harried, curious whispers that seemed as loud to Elspeth as if they had shouted the questions in a stadium: "Who is Elle Taylor?"

Elle thought sleepily to herself, Yes indeed, who am I? I used to define myself by what I had: a loving family, friends, a home; and a different life, a life that was blissfully uncomplicated and boring. But all these things are gone now. I cannot define myself by those things anymore. Who am I? Well, listen to my story closely. Maybe you'll have more luck than I do.

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Author's Note: Hello all! Welcome to the wild world of "Ask Me No Questions." The prologue, as you can tell, introduces you to several new characters, the most important being Elle Taylor. You'll learn more about Elle in later chapters.

I really hope that most (scratch that: all) of you will stay with me during this wild ride. Please review regardless if you have an account or not. Even a smiley face is helpful. If you have advice on how to make the story better, feel free to say so.

Thanks,

L.

DISCLAIMOR: I own none of the characters save for Elle Taylor and Heddy (thus far); the other characters and locations are all of JKR's invention.