A/N: I own nothing you recognise. Just to let you know before you start reading, I am 100% sane. Thank you to Alice (californialove) for being a terrific beta and looking over this for me.

The Black Knight

It's cold. So cold. I can't quite believe it. It's like being stabbed over and over and over with a blade of ice. Cold. Freezing. Freezing cold. Freezing to death. I wish.

Relief: heat. Heat. Heat like an oven. It chases me, licking at me; it hurts more. Is that possible? So warm, so hot. Hot. Hot then cold, then hot. It's the most terrifying sensation. I want to close my eyes, I want it go away, but they are forced open.

Screams. I'm trying but my voice is gone. Did I ever have a voice? A voice – what is that? I don't understand. It's changing. The world is changing. It's horrific. Has it always been like this? It must have been. I have felt like this forever. Merlin help me. Who's Merlin?

Screams. Not mine. No, from another. Someone is writhing in agony. Is this me? No, it can't be. This is someone else. He's looking at me. Why is he looking? Stop it. Stop it. I want to shout at the top of my lungs but I can't.

Who is this? He's shouting something. I hear it but I can't listen. It's like a dream.

'Lis' – that's what he's saying. I see his mouth form the word. What is this 'Lis'? It is not a word I know.

The red comes again. He disappears from view as I am rolled over a bed of pins. My whole body tingles. Tingles? No. It is punctured. I am bleeding. I can feel it. The blood trickles down everywhere. I taste it. It's like metal. This is it. This is Death.

Black. Everything is black. The pain dulls. It is my saviour. My knight in shining armour has come. I welcome it with open arms. A swish strikes the air and more red. Not more. Please, no more.

Drowning. I'm drowning. The water is swallowing me. I try to keep my head afloat but I can't. I go under. My eyes sting. The red light comes slowly now, caressing the furious waves. There is a scream. Is it me? No. How can it be? Screaming was lost a long time ago. This shout is harrowing in such a different way. It does not tear my heart apart. It is a scream of ecstasy. It makes my brain want to explode. My hands jerk to my hair. I feel like I've got ten tonne weights for arms. I pull. It will be over soon.

I re-surface, gasping and heaving. It has stopped. What is this? The pain has gone. I do not recognise what is left. I see the man, the man who shouted nonsense. He looks happy. So happy. I think he's happy. Or is it sad? Yes. It must be. Sad. His hands cover his face. He's like a baby. I will make him better.

I shuffle forward. He moves too. It is like I am made of feathers. No, lead. Led? To lead? No, these aren't words. I don't understand. It makes no sense. I stop. I cannot do this anymore.

Black. More black. I force my eyes open. Everything is white. So white. It hurts my eyes and I yearn to close them again. He is there. The man who shouted nonsense is here with me. He is so far away. He has taken his hands away from his face but he is still sad. I cannot move. I cannot comfort him. I have never learnt. I am not a mother. A mother? Do I have one of those? Surely not. If I had a mother, she would be here comforting me. She would bring the black back. Isn't that what mothers do? It doesn't matter though, because I do not have one.

Screams. Not more. No more. I cannot take it. I clamp my hands over my ears. I don't want anymore. My mouth is open but I cannot make a sound. I cannot speak. I cannot drown out the noise with my own. Make it stop. Please, make it stop.

There is a voice. Another voice. It is soft. Or is it loud? No, it is not. It is soft and gentle. I take my hands down. No. They are forced down. The screams continue. I shake my head. Not more. No more. Please, no more. I feel my hair thrashing around my face. It does not hurt. Nothing hurts any more, except the screams.

Black. Again, it has rescued me. The voice is still there. It is clearer. I listen.

"Look, dear –"

Look. I won't. That means no more black. Black is good. Black is safe. It doesn't hurt. It is not red, not blue, nor green; it is black. It is nothing. I am nothing.

"Alice?"

What is this word? 'Lis'? It is as the sad man said. 'Lis'. It means nothing.

"I've brought Neville."

A new word. What is this Neville? Should I open my eyes? New things hurt. Black would no longer exist. A Neville could be anything. No. It is too dangerous. I do not move a muscle. If I stay still, they will leave me alone.

I listen to the voice some more. It pleads and I ignore it. The screams start again. My hands fly to my ears but they pause. This scream is different. It is not of the pain I knew. It is strange. I let my hands fall back to my side and turn my head. I creep through the black to the door I know will lead me into the world where things hurt. I hesitate before opening it.

The Neville. I do not understand it. It is crying. I want to hold it. My arms outstretch before I know it. The kind lady with the fluffy hat does not let me. She shakes her head and smiles but does not let me touch her Neville. The Neville quiets. It turns to look at me. It is podgy. It has wet cheeks and its chubby hands – hands, it must be human, but of what sort I do not know – reach for me. I will not touch it. It might bring pain. But it is so small. It cannot hurt. So I touch the hand. It is soft. The Neville smiles. I like this Neville. I smile back and reach to the table beside the bed. A sweet wrapper. He will like that I think. He holds it in his chubby hands. He is curious.

'It cannot hurt you' I want to tell him, but he just stares at me. He stares at me like the man opposite. I look away. It is too much. I want my black. I search for the door. Before I disappear, I cast one last look at the Neville. It is whimpering. It is saying something. I do not understand.

"Mummy."

Mummy? What is mummy? I wish people would stop making up words. Mummy means nothing. I close the door, I close my eyes. I return to the black that does not perplex me. It does not hurt me. It is sanctuary.

I am happy. I do not need the kind lady who brings this strange Neville. I do not need the people from the white world who make me drink the horrid red liquid. I do not need the sad man who I cannot save. I only need myself and the black. These are things I understand.

Only, I don't. Black brings nothing. I know that. Black is safe. I talk of 'I' and 'my'. These are things I know cannot harm me.

But the question still needs answering.

Who am I?

A/N: I have no idea what you're going to think of this. No idea at all. I sat down and wrote the first three paragraphs without thinking it would turn into fanfiction (obviously, the Merlin bit is excluded). I was in a really bizarre mood and came up with that and it evolved into Alice Longbottom. The start is supposed to be her being tortured by the Lestranges and Crouch, then we progress to her being in hospital and then Neville.

So, yes, I'm eager to hear your thoughts on this slightly insane piece