Title - Finding A Way Home
Chapter title - Whittingham Asylum
Author - OblivionsGarden
Genre - Romance/Drama
Disclaimer - I do not own Harry Potter, books or films, in anyway shape or form. I only own my original characters and the plot for this fic. For this chapter I own, Gabrielle, Julie, Doctor Fletcher.

Summary - Gabrielle keeps dreaming about the world of magic. Are the dreams just that or are they supressed memories? Only one way to find out...Break out and find the toad like woman in pink. Scabior/Oc

A/n - My first, I think, Harry Potter fic. Woo! This is going to be a Scabior/Oc fic, because Scabior is a bad ass and Nick Moran who played him in the films is a terrific actor and, lets be honest, is a bit of a babe.
Please read and review, I'd greatly appreciate it. Hope you enjoy, xx (:

A hand, clutching a slim length of wood, pointing forwards as though it were some kind of weapon. A flash of blue light, blinding and the call of a man, all too familiar yet so foreign. The back of a head. A woman with long auburn hair and tiny waist. The same hand that had been holding the wood was rested on the middle of her back, the thumb tracing small circles. A word, Hogwarts, echoes around. Hogwarts? What is it? Is it even an it? The mans voice again. 'It's a school. For special witches and wizard. Just like you, darling.' Witches. Magic. Spells. Things a muggle could never explain. Muggle? Another odd word. What's a muggle? What is a muggle?

"Morning, poppet." A thick Scottish accent breaks through the thick fog that was a dream. "Now lets have you up and showered before breakfast, eh?" The elderly, grey haired, plump woman placed a polystyrene cup of luke warm tea on a bedside table and left the room. A girl on the bed sits up and rakes a hand through her long ebony hair, staring at the tea as if it had just spat out a great insult to her. She remembers things from her nights sleep. Hogwarts was a word she had heard before but muggle...That was new. She knew Doctor Fletcher would ask if anything new had surfaced but she also knew that if she told of the new word, she'd be in this place for longer.
Sighing, she lifted the tea and took a sip with a grimace. They always forgot the sugar. Leaving it where it was she picked up her wash bag, tucked a towel under her arm and grabbed her clean clothes and headed into the bathroom. Once clean and dressed, she dropped her dirty towel in the hamper, replaced her wash bag in her room and made her way into the communal area.
"Good morning, Gabs." A girl whose name had slipped her mind mumbled as she passed.
"Ah, Gabrielle. Toast for breakfast as usual, eh?" The Scottish woman was smiling from the kitchen. Gabrielle nodded and sat down at the small plastic table.
"Bring it through to my office would you Julie?" A tall man with messy blonde hair smiled as he flicked through various papers on his clipboard. "Gabbie, come through, please."

Gabrielle rolled her eyes but otherwise obediently followed the man through to his office. She sat down in the red faux leather chair opposite his desk without being asked. He sat down in his own desk chair and smiled in what he thought was a comforting way.
"Julie says you were talking in your sleep this morning."
"Well, she would know wouldn't she." A sarcastic tone that Doctor Fletcher was all too familiar with. He frowned.
"Gabbie-"
"Gabrielle."
"Gabrielle...If something new formulates in your mind you have to tell me. I'm here to help you get better."
"Eh-Ehhh! Wrong answer doc. You're here to make sure I stay put because mummy and daddy think I'm crazy."
"So you're actually calling them mum and dad now?" The doctor scribbled something down on a notepad.
"No. It's just less of a mouthful than foster mum and foster dad." Gabrielle scowled and sunk lower in her chair.
"And why do you prefer to be called Gabrielle?"
"You know why."
"Refresh my memory."
"Because my dad used to call me Gabbie. Doesn't seem right that you or anyone else does."
"Your dad being..."
Gabrielle glared at the doctor. "I don't know." Her teeth were gritted and hands in tight fists.
"So...What did you dream about this time?"
"Same as usual but there was another word..." Gabrielle started. Doctor Fletcher waited for her to continue, pen poised over the paper ready to take notes. "Muggle. And don't ask what it means, I don't know. I can't remember."
"Gabrielle. You're not remembering anything. These aren't memories."
"Of course doctor. As you so enjoy reminding me, they are just figments of my over active imagination."
"Exactly."
"Well, is that it? Because dozy Julie hasn't bought my toast through and I'm hungry."
"Go on."

Gabrielle left the room as fast as she could manage. She bypassed the communal area and headed straight into the gardens. The grass felt cooling beneath her toes and the air refreshing in her lungs. She walked right to the front gate and stared up at the large, ugly sign that looked out at the road opposite. 'Whittingham Asylum' was printed in a mossy green font.
"Oi lads, look." A deep voice from the opposite side of the gate caught Gabrielle's attention. "You're pretty for a nutter." A teenage boy called to her. With a smirk Gabrielle walked closer. "What you in 'ere for then darlin'? Loosin' you're marbles?"
"No. Actually, I killed my family and pleaded insanity. This place is nicer than a prison cell wouldn't you say?" The boys soon scurried off back to whatever rock they crawled from under and Gabrielle wondered back inside, a smug smile gracing her features.

At just nineteen years old, she'd spent three years in Whittingham, one year previous with foster parents, four months previous in a children's home and anything before that is beyond her. She can't remember anything before the children's home. She woke up in a blue bedroom, with no recollection of anything except for her name and age. During the time she spent with her foster parents, she started having dreams about the man and woman and Hogwarts and bright lights and flying...All these things were at first, regarded as just dreams. But when Gabrielle started to get more and more convinced that these things were memories and not dreams, she was sent to Whittingham.

'Gabrielle Beckett.
19.
Born November 10th.
Parents unknown.
Legal guardians: Tony and Caroline Hattersly.
5"4.
110lbs upon admission.
Believes deluded dreams are real memories.
No physical danger to herself or others.'

That was it. They were the main facts that Gabrielle knew about herself that were kept in a paper file at the foot of her bed. The other trivial things about her personality didn't count. All she knew was her name and her age. What use is that? She wanted to know who her real parents were and where they were now. She wanted to know what her dreams meant. She wanted, more than anything, to go home. Wherever that may be.
She had thought of leaving Whittingham before, but where was she supposed to go? She didn't have any money or any family...That she knew of. She didn't have a home or any friends. She had thought of Hogwarts but with no proof of it genuinely existing other than in her head, she didn't have a clue where it was. Instead she was trapped. Trapped within the white walls of Whittingham and the dark corners of her mind until something, anything gave her a clue of where to go.

"Gabrielle, lovie! You didn't eat your toast." Julie tried to stop Gabrielle from passing straight through the communal room.
"Not hungry."
"At least have a drink."
"I've got a cup of none sweet, cold tea waiting in my room. Thanks." She sped up her walk until she was back in her room. She took the cup of tea into her wash room and emptied it down the sink. She sat on the lid of the toilet, staring at her reflection in the mirror opposite. Her coal black hair hung to just past her shoulders with no style or volume. It just hung in a tangled mess, all one length and particularly boring. There was a small red dot on her right nostril where she figured she must've worn a stud at some point. It was healed up now though, and Doctor Fletcher made sure that none of his patients had anything sharp around them. Her eyes, a midnight blue, like that in the sky that surrounded the stars were dull and lifeless. She often wondered if there had ever been any sparkle in them. Any glint of life and mischief. She hoped there had, even if she couldn't remember it. Her bottom lip was cracked and chapped from where she regularly chewed on it in concentration and deep thought.
She glanced down at her hands. They were small, just like everything on her. Her feet, ears, nose. Even her height was considered small for her age. Her hands were covered in a pale creamy skin, like that of a china doll but was no where near as perfect. There were small scars on the backs of her hands from where the hospital had once owned a cat, as a present for the patients there. Trouble was the feline was evil. Hissing and spitting it's way down corridors and scratching anything within a 2 meter radius. Her nails were coated in a chipped red nail varnish one of the other girls had done for her. It was after Doctor Fletcher insisted she socialize more and the girl had offered a manicure. Gabrielle said yes, just to get the doctor of her back but regretted it straight away. Red nails weren't her thing. They were for a girl who liked to be noticed by men. A girl who wore skirts and tight tops. A girl that Gabrielle wasn't.

With a sigh she stood up and took one last look in the mirror but the person she saw staring back wasn't her. The person in the mirror mimicked every move Gabrielle made, even the stupid faces she pulled. It was a plump woman with a sickly sweet yet toad like smile. Seeing only her mid stomach upwards, Gabrielle could see she was wearing some sort of pink tweed outfit with a pink fuzzy cardigan on the top. Gabrielle rubbed her eyes with the heel of her hands and looked back up. The woman still stared back at her but this time, the wash room walls weren't reflected behind her. People were bustling about in the background whilst there was a grand statue. Gabrielle couldn't quite make out what it was when she heard a high voice, whispering in her ear.
"The Ministry. This is the Ministry Of Magic."
"The what?" Gabrielle asked but as soon as she spoke, the image in her mirror faded away, leaving her staring at herself again.

She moved back into the bedroom, aiming a kick at the chair by her barred window. With a groan she sat down in said chair and cradled her now throbbing toe in her hands.
"The Ministry." She grumbled to herself. "That's be great if I knew where the Ministry was."
"Where the what was?" Doctor Fletcher came into the room, a bright smile on his face.
"My, uh...Notepad. I'd be happier if I could remember where my notepad was."
"I confiscated it yesterday. Remember?"
"Oh...Yes, of course." Gabrielle mentally kicked herself. Now he's going to think she's got memory loss on top of delusion. Fantastic. "Can I have it back?"
"I suppose. There's nothing of great importance in there. Nothing you haven't already told us anyway."
"I did tell you."
"Yes, but I have to make sure. It's my job."
"Is it?" Gabrielle yawned as she pulled out a pair of socks and started wiping off the bits of dirt and grass that were stuck to the sole of her feet.
"The Leaky Cauldron."
"The what?" Gabrielle looked up at Doctor Fletcher who was frowning at her.
"What?"
"Did you say something?" She asked.
"No. Did you hear someone say something."
"No."
"Gabbie."
"Fletch."
"It's Doctor Fletcher."
"I know. Same as you know my name is Gabrielle." She stood up and left the room.

She headed into the kitchen and pulled out a slice of bread and a jar of strawberry jam. As she made herself a sandwhich, she head the voice again. The Leaky Cauldron. What is that? Ignoring it, she sat down in the communal room, staring blankly at the television screen as one of the other girls flicked from channel to channel without stopping for more than 3 seconds on any of them.
She went out for her usual jog around the grounds in the afternoon, but other than that her day passed in it's monotonous, slow progression. However the high voice didn't relent in whispering strange words in her ear.