Chapter One - In the Box Beneath the Bed
Thick smoke was choking her, she could hardly see. Falling to her knees she began to crawl. She couldn't breathe. She had to find a way out! Reaching out before her, she felt her hand connect with something that was most definitely not stone. Pulling her hand back she squinted through the smoke and leaned closer. "Mom?" Empty eyes sockets stared at her, the black, charred skin was sloughing off. Where her hand had touched, the skin had fallen off completely. Her mouth was open in a silent scream. She was floating through time and space; the world had stopped spinning. She wanted to look away but her eyes wouldn't leave the gruesome sight. "Mom…"
Lying there in the silence of the house, she shivered. The sight wouldn't leave her mind. The occasional tear dripped down face. She wanted so badly to undo it all. If only she could go back and change it. It was physically possible, actually. The question was, could she ever really do it? Her minds eye slipped from the slowly warming horizon to the dark, dusty world beneath her bed. In the far left-hand corner, directly below her pillow sat an old box of miscellaneous items: her forgotten bottle-cap collection, a poorly kept diary, a mouse trap, a spinning top, half a deck of muggle cards and a broken rook from a lost chess set. Beneath all that, in a paper sack sitting in the only un-duct-taped corner, was a necklace that could let her re-write her past.
She sighed and closed her eyes. She knew it so well. So many times had her fingers traced over the ruins engraved upon the hour-glass that their texture seemed permanently burnt into her fingers. Night after night she had contemplated it, the miraculous journey back in time. Three times she had hung the golden chain around her neck, and three times she had removed it, too afraid to spin the hourglass. Again she wondered what was holding her back.
Her friends were not close, though they had tried to be. She hadn't been able to tell them yet, and they had learned to accept her night terrors without question. Still, she would occasionally catch a glance between them, worried, curious, and slightly afraid. Her father was not close either, but it was not one-sided. They both stayed silent about her mother's death, it had never even been brought up. If her father had ever heard her wake screaming, he had never mentioned it. There seemed to be nothing for her to hang onto, not when she knew life had been so much better before her mum's death. Why was she still here? She had no idea.
The sun was fully up now. Stiffly she began to disentangle herself from the sheets that held her captive. Deep in thought she reached into her wardrobe and pulled out the first things she touched. Changing she walked down stairs and into breakfast with only one sock on and a purple and orange plaid tank top clashing horribly with her neon-green skirt.
In the kitchen her father was hunched over the newest article for the Quibbler. He was so engrossed in his reading that he didn't notice that the sugar bowl was still adding to his tea, excess sugar gathering on the tablecloth. Sitting across from her father, she waved his wand and it froze. He looked up for a moment, smiled, and went back to reading. Reaching across the table she fixed herself some cereal and some orange juice, thinking. Her father had distanced himself. He was trying to forget and move on by working harder and longer. She was just trying to believe it never happened. Neither technique worked, and both deepened the rift between them. They each lived alone in the tall, dark, tower of a house. She was not so hungry anymore.
Forcing down two more bites she stood up. He kept reading. She watched him reach for a quill, write something down, and move on. For a few more moments she simply stood there, watching him read. "Yes?" he finally asked, acknowledging her presence. "Do you need something Luna?"
"N-No papa. Thanks." he returned to his reading. Slowly, she turned and began climbing the stairs out of the kitchen. Looking down, before the next floor blocked her father from her view, her eyes paused on the door leading to the basement. The door handle was dusty from years of no use. That door served a single purpose now: to remind the family of what had happened. To Luna it was a sickening reminder of the role she had played in what had happened. Jerking her eyes away she hurried up the stairs and into the shower hoping to empty her mind.
Her shower was very short; today her mind wouldn't quiet. No arguments could keep her accusing thoughts away. By noon she was sitting in her room with the door locked, a tattered box on the floor in front of her, a golden chain around her neck. Hands sweating, she was still unsure. A nagging little voice was telling her off, reminding her of everything that would go wrong. She shoved the voice away and reached for the hourglass. It came back, shouting and pounding its fists. 'NO! NO! NO!' It screamed at her. 'BE REASONABLE! BE SMART! YOUR A RAVENCLAW, DARN IT!' her hand was on the hourglass. 'Please,' her mind begged with her. 'Don't go, please.' Her hand almost pulled away when another voice whispered in her ear.
'What have you got to loose?'
A/N: Review! Tell me what you think. Any comments, good or bad, are warmly welcomed. If I get three reviews I'll post the next chapter (it's already written)
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Echo Chambers