Disclaimer: I own neither Naruto nor Harry Potter.
Awakening
Waking up is usually a quick affair in my case.
Not today. When I first become aware of myself, my mind feels like it's floating through space. It's a nice feeling. There are no worries, no dangers, no pain, no thoughts. So I stay there. Can minds smile? If they could, mine would probably have a really dopey smile on its mind-face. And maybe giggle stupidly. I could stay here forever, I think. Mind-me blinks in realization. Heeeeeyyyy... I have thoughts again! I find this hilarious. I mind-giggle some more. Being dead is funny. Wait, I am dead? No one answers my question. Maybe I should try talking to myself. Or thinking to myself. I think I will call it thalking. Then I realize that thalking to myself would be pointless since I can't tell myself anything I don't already know.
Now that I am actually thalk- I mean thinking about my situation, I decide that I don't want to stay here forever after all. Being dead is going to get boring really fast. I decide that this can't possibly be the end.
Shouldn't there have been a tunnel with a light at the end? Or just a light without a tunnel? Maybe a flock of angels? Then again, with all this darkness around me, I can't really see anything. Idiot, I think. Of course you can't see anything when you have your eyes closed.
So I open my eyes.
I blink. My vision is blurry but clears when I blink some more. A woman in white clothes is leaning over me, eyes focused on where I suspect my chest is located. I can't really feel my body, so I have to guess where everything is. I manage to move my eyes around so I can see what the woman is staring at. However, what I am seeing doesn't make sense.
The woman's hands hover over my ribs. From her hands, pale green light is spreading out and seeping into my body. I stare at this for a while, then I manage to tear my eyes away, refusing to even think about what is happening. To distract myself, I look at what I can see of the rest of my body. Bad idea. It's not very pretty. Dozens of needles stick out of my skin, connecting tubes to machines that I can see out of the corners of my eyes.
A man walks into my field of vision, he too is wearing white. His mouth moves and the woman straightens and turns towards him. His mouth moves again. I realize he is talking, but I don't hear a thing. My hearing is gone.
It's too much for me. Black closes in on me and I fade away.
The next time I wake up, my mind is much clearer. I open my eyes and look around. I think I am in a hospital room because it looks similar to one I have seen on the telly when Aunt Petunia watched a television series that took place in a hospital. My being here probably means I am not dead, which I'll consider a good thing so long as the Dursleys are far away from me. The needles are gone which I am really grateful for. I tap my hand on the mattress. My hearing is back, thank God.
The room I am currently in is not the one that I woke up in before. This room is bright, with white walls, light grey floor and a large window. From where I am lying on the bed, I can only see the sky that seems so much bluer than I remember.
I try to sit up but my arms won't support me and I fall back onto the pillow. I decide to stay there. Even this little movement has exhausted me. Instead of moving, I finally allow myself to think about what happened. Did all that really happen? I ask myself. It must have, because the Dursleys have never even taken me to a doctor, much less a hospital, so someone else must have brought me here. But from what I remember of my injuries, I should have been in pain, and I am not. I shouldn't have been able to even try to sit up like I did earlier, and I didn't feel any pain when I fell back down. And the woman with the green-glowing hands, how could she have been real? Hands don't glow. I decide that some of what I remember might be real, but my brain may have added a few details. Then again... whatever I did to leave my cupboard, all that power... are glowing hands really so impossible?
My thoughts get interrupted when a knock sounds and what I recognize as a nurse steps in. When she sees me awake, she smiles at me and says something in a different language and looks at me expectantly. Uh-oh, I think.
"Excuse me. Do you speak English?" I ask her. Please say yes, please say yes...
She looks confused. "Nani?" she asks me. My stomach drops.
"That's a no, isn't it? No English?"
A blank stare is my answer. Then she says something else and almost runs out of the room, slamming the door shut behind her.
Great. Just great. I have finally managed to escape, and where do I end up? Somewhere no one speaks my language. And not only that, she didn't even recognize the word 'English'.
Where the heck am I?
I decide to give sitting up another try. I need to look out of that window. It isn't easy, but this time I manage. Exhausted, I sit on the bed. Now that I only need to turn my head to look outside, I am scared to do it. Something tells me that once look, nothing will ever be the same again. But then again, I wanted a new life. So I take a deep breath, but before I can turn my head toward the window, the door opens and three men walk in.
They don't look like anyone I have ever seen before. The one that must be their leader since the other two are flanking him is an old man with tan skin and a white goatee. I don't spend much attention on his face because his clothes distract me. Mainly his hat. He wears a red robe held together with a white sash and a white loose jacket around his shoulders. On his head sits a large red hat and adorning it is a symbol, which is what is distracting me. I am pretty sure that symbols like that are mainly used in Asian countries. Maybe I am in China or Japan?
The other two men both wear dark clothes with olive-green vests that look like they are really sturdy. They also wear fingerless gloves that have some sort of armour too protect their hands. Aside from their clothes, they look very different. The one on the left wears a red sleeveless jacket over his vest and his long ash blond hair is worn spiky on the top of his head and tied in a long ponytail in the back. A headband with a metal plate engraved with a symbol I have never seen before is tied around his head. That symbol must be important to him if he wears it on his forehead, I muse.
The last man wears a sleeveless jacket over the rest of his outfit too, but his looks to be made out of some sort of skin. His dark hair is tied back in a ponytail that is so spiky it reminds me of a pineapple. Two scars mar his face.
It's not the way they look that makes me think that the three of them are dangerous. It's the way they hold themselves, the way they walk, the way their eyes take in every single detail of the room in an instant, and I decide that I want to be like that someday.
I wonder what they see when they look at me.
I'm tiny for my almost seven years and too skinny for even my small height. I don't have a mirror, but after what happened to me, my skin is probably even paler than usual. I don't even want to think about what my hair looks like after who knows how many days of unconsciousness.
I wonder if they notice the haunted look in my eyes. I'm almost completely sure they do.
They stop a few steps away from me. I stare at them. They stare at me. Now I know what insects must feel like when they are caught and observed under a magnifying glass.
"Please tell me one of you speaks English." I decide to break the silence.
Blank looks. Bugger.
The blond man says something. Now it's me giving them a blank look.
Some tension seems to leave their bodies. The two men flanking the old man exchange a quick look, barely noticeable, then look at me even more intensely than before. I think the blond one may have said something that would definitely have drawn a reaction from me had I been able to understand their language. Now there's a thought. Maybe I should try the same thing.
"When I sneeze, elephants come out of my nose." No reaction. They definitely don't speak English. Considering what I just said, that's probably a good thing.
We stare at each other some more.
"I'm so glad this isn't awkward or anything." Some part of my brain wonders what's wrong with me. I normally hate talking in front of others since the reactions of the listeners usually consist of either derisive laughter, harsh words or condescending stares as if I wasn't even worth answering to. In Uncle Vernon's presence, I don't talk at all unless directly spoken to which almost never happens.
The old man suddenly smiles at me warmly. I wonder why. It's not like I have done anything that could have endeared me to him. I look at him confusedly. He says something and smiles at me some more. The other two start to smile too, the pineapple-haired one chuckling and saying: "Mendokuse." I'm pretty sure I was just the subject of a dumb joke.
Pineapple-Man steps forward and points to himself. "Shikaku." he says. Then he points to Blondie: "Inoichi." Inoichi points at the old man, saying: "Hokage-sama."
"Jasmine Potter," I say. Blondie repeats my name, stumbling over the syllables awkwardly. I frown. That's going to be really annoying if nobody can pronounce my name. Then I have an idea. I mimic writing something in the air and Hokage-sama produces a pencil and a scroll out of some hidden pocket of his robe. He gives both to me. I study the scroll carefully before I figure out how to open it. Once it's opened, I draw a few jasmine flowers. Then I hold show them the scroll, pointing at the picture, saying "Jasmine" and then pointing at myself.
Their faces light up with understanding. "Riko," Hokage-sama says, pointing at me. "Riko?" I repeat, testing it out. Then I nod and smile at him. I can live with Riko as my new name. It's still my name, only it sounds different.
For a few seconds nobody says anything, but it isn't as awkward as it was before. Then Hokage-sama sighs. "Inoichi." he says, and from his tone, I can tell he has just given an order. Inoichi straightens. "Hai, Hokage-sama!" he replies, then walks toward me. I tense. Then his hand suddenly stretches out toward my face and I throw my arms up to protect myself, scooting backwards until my back hits the wall behind me. Inoichi pulls his hand back fast and takes a few steps backwards, lifting his empty open hands as if trying to tell me he meant no harm. I don't think I believe him. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Shikaku and Hokage-sama exchanging grim looks. Oh god they are mad at me no no no please don't hurt me! I cringe, awaiting the pain, but it never comes. They just stand there watching me while I draw in panicked breaths, arms still up guarding my face, knees drawn to my chest to protect the upper part of my body. Eventually Shikaku grabs the scroll that must have fallen to the floor when I moved and pulls out a pencil of his own, drawing something. Then he walks towards me and I tense even more, but he only lays the scroll on the bed and takes a few steps backwards.
I lower my hands and pull the scroll towards me, the whole time never taking my eyes of them which is really difficult considering Inoichi is standing at the foot of the bed and Shikaku has rejoined Hokage-sama on the right side of my bed. They don't move from their spots, so I decide I can chance a quick look at the scroll.
I look at the picture Shikaku has drawn and have to laugh. It's a really crappy drawing of a small person in a bed with three stickmen standing in front of her, lifting knives to a cute-ugly looking monster-dragon-thing with fangs. One of the stickmen wears a ponytail and the top of his head seems to be on fire, one has a rectangle over its head that might be a hat and the third one's head looks like a pineapple. The person in the bed...
"My hair does not look like that!" I say and give Shikaku an offended look. At least I hope it doesn't. I decide to find a mirror and a hairbrush sometime soon. Shikaku smirks at me, which is when I realize that the tension has faded from my body. I narrow my eyes at him. He's a sharp one.
I turn my head toward Inoichi again when he moves towards me, and this time I don't panic. He sits down on my bed and reaches for my head again. Then he sees the scroll and gives Shikaku an evil look, hissing something at him while pointing at the stickman representing him. I'm pretty sure he is complaining about the depicted hairstyle too. Shikaku continues smirking. Hokage-sama shakes his head like an indulgent grandfather.
Inoichi turns toward me again. I stare at his face. His green eyes are friendly, and I manage to not flinch when his hand comes to rest on my forehead. He closes his eyes and something flows out of his hand into my head and suddenly I am not in the hospital anymore.
Salad flies through the air and hits Uncle Vernon. He backhands me, drags me put of the kitchen and to my cupboard. His fist sinks into my stomach and I can't breathe anymore. His foot crashes into my body. Then I am alone. Power courses through me and out of me and crushes me and then I lay dying under a tree.
I am in school. Behind me, I hear running footsteps and then something shoves me against the wall. I look up and see Dudley's plump backside moving away from me, running towards his usual group. I narrow my eyes and glare at his back, and then something in my head clicks and Dudley is flying headfirst into his gang and the floor is filled with wailing seven year old boys trying to entangle themselves from each other. I laugh.
It's my sixth birthday. The Dursleys locked me in my cupboard yesterday evening and have left the house. I don't know how long it will take them to return. I 'm really thirsty.
A rolled-up newspaper hits me on the back of my head and wakes me up. Disoriented I look around. My math teacher with the newspaper in his hand sneers at me and says something mean. All the other kids laugh at me. Then, the teacher's wig is suddenly an electric blue color.
Aunt Marge is visiting and I am serving dinner. Aunt Petunia and I prepared a lot of food, so I don't think I'll have to be hungry tonight. When the Dursleys finally lean back patting their stomachs, I walk towards them to clear the table. Right in front of my nose, Marge takes the leftover roastbeef and potatoes and places them in front of the two bulldogs she brought. The food is gone in seconds.
I am running from Dudley's gang. Piers Polkiss said earlier today that he would break my leg when they catch me. I don't really believe him, but I am scared anyways. I can run faster than themthough, and I think I can hide in the gardens on Primrose Lane. But Andy Mitchell is suddenly coming from that direction and I have to dart into an alleyway and I run and it's a dead end but I don't stop running and then wind wraps around me, lifting me up and releasing me on a rooftop within a split second.
I am in the grocery market with Aunt Petunia. A man in purple robes notices me. Tears start filling his eyes, and he grabs my hand and shakes it while telling me what an honor it is to meet me.
Aunt Marge has come to visit. She and Uncle Vernon are now in the living room drinking whiskey. Marge yells for me to bring her dog food. I walk in and they are talking about my parents. Marge says that if kids turn out wrong, it's always the mother's fault. I turn toward her and Vernon and ask her how that is possible when Vernon looks like a walrus and she like a bulldog and their mother can't possibly have carried the genes for both animals. That evening Vernon hits me for the first time.
The first week of school has passed. I am sitting with Mrs. Figg on her couch, cuddling Ms. Emmy while my heart is breaking because Mrs. Figg never acknowledged me the way I thought she did.
It's my second day of school. I am standing in the school's playground. In front of me, Callie Andrews and her friends sneer at me and mock my looks and clothes. I laugh and then open my hand in front of Callie's nose. Sitting on it is the spider I swiped from the bushes next to me while she was busy talking. Callie screeches and she and her friends run away while I laugh. They never mock me again.
I am four and a half years old. Mrs. Figg is asleep and I am supposed to be napping, too. But I don't need to sleep in the daytime when I can do that in my cupboard whenever Vernon makes me go in there. I think once I am bigger, I'll be able to do more chores and then he'll have a reason to let me stay outside. I tiptoe down the corridor to the living room. So often have I wanted to look at Mrs. Figg's books, and now I finally can. I study the titles, then I pull out a book about flowers. Reading page after page, I am fascinated how many different flowers there are. I turn to the next page and my name stares back at me. I start to smile. My name is a flower and it's in a book! I read the page about Jasmine over and over until I can recite every word written on it and the image of my flower is burned into my memory.
I turned four three days ago. After Vernon leaves for work and Petunia goes upstairs to play with Dudley, I sneak out of my cupboard. Running silently to the kitchen, my goal is not the fridge but Uncle Vernon's newspaper that he left on the table. Then I run into the living room where under a mountain of Dudley's toys a book is buried. It's a children's book that is supposed to help kids learn to read with the help of pictures. Aunt Petunia tried to use it to teach Dudley to read so he'd have an advantage in school, but after five minutes, he threw it into a corner and started to cry. The book has since been forgotten by everyone except me, and I grab it to hide it and the newspaper under the mattress in my cupboard. Next Sunday during naptime at Mrs. Figg's, I will teach myself to read the newspaper.
I am three years old. I am sitting terrified in the cupboard under the stairs. Uncle Vernon grabbed me earlier and told me that this is my room now because he doesn't want Dudley anywhere near me anymore. Something crawls over my left hand. I give a small shriek and shake whatever it is off. Then I curl into a tiny ball on my mattress and start to cry.
I wake up to loud rumbling. I open my eyes and an enormously hairy face looks down at me. We are flying through the air. I start to cry because my face feels cold because of the wind and Mama and Papa aren't here. The man holding me looks sad and rumbles something with a deep voice, and eventually, I fall asleep again.
I am sitting happily with my Mama and Papa on the floor. Mama is cutting crowns out of paper while Papa taps his wand to them to make them golden and glittery. I giggle and clap my hands excitedly. Mama asks him to get something to drink for her and Papa kisses her cheek, ruffles my hair and walks out of the room and down the stairs to the kitchen. Mama laughs softly and runs her hand over my hair to smooth it down. Then a crash sounds from downstairs. "Lily! He's here! Take Jazzy and run!" "Fool!" An ice cold voice hisses. "You cannot run!" Crashing sounds come from downstairs. Mama jumps up and takes me and runs to the fireplace that we sometimes sit in front of while Papa reads me a story. She throws something into the fire, but nothing happens. She takes a deep breath and hugs me tightly to herself while walking over to my cot, and then she lays me in there. The crashes downstairs have stopped. Mama leans over me, her long beautiful red hair touching my face and whispers to me: "Don't worry, Jaz. I won't let anything happen to you. Mama and Papa love you very much, sweetheart." A teardrop falls onto my cheek. Then she straightens and stands in front of me as someone enters the room. "I won't let you touch her!" Mama hisses at him. "Stand aside, you silly girl!" the cold voice from before orders. "I only want the girl!" "No, not Jazzy, never Jazzy! Take me instead!" Green light flashes and Mama falls to the floor unmoving, green eyes staring up at the ceiling blankly. Something enters my line of sight. It walks towards me, cold red eyes glaring at me hatefully. His wand points at me. "Avada Kedavra!" the Thing hisses, and green light hits me and then it flashes back to him and its high cold voice screams. The world around us explodes and I scream too, but I stop in horror when something cold and WRONG worms its way into my head and it hurts so much. I want my Mama and Papa but they don't come and I cry and cry and cry until everything goes dark.
I'm back in the hospital and I can't breathe. My skin feels icy cold and I am shaking and I can hear a high-pitched whine that sounds like it's coming from a dying animal. Someone grabs my shoulders and says something to me and my head shoots up to look at the blond man and I don't want him to touch me! I try to shove and kick him away and I am back in the room with Mama lying on the floor - why won't she move? - but when I blink I am back on the hospital bed and I clutch at my head, fingers digging into my forehead - rip that Thing out of me! – and something touches my neck and everything goes dark.