*A/N: Massive thank you to everyone who's been reading - the reviews have been extremely sweet so thank you thank you thank you! (Frankly, I don't think I said 'thank you' enough in that sentence)

Chapter Four

"Mr Pond!" The Doctor called after Rory.

Rory stopped walking and waited for the Doctor to catch up.

"I'm not Mr Pond," he told him.

"Yes you are," The Doctor finalised. "Anyway, I came here because I need to talk to you."

Rory raised an eyebrow, "Okay…what for?"

The Doctor cautiously looked around to see if the coast was clear of Clara or anyone who would go blabbing to her but he didn't see anyone who he thought would care. Most people were outside or having a lie in anyway with it being Sunday. The Doctor hated Sundays. They were just so boring. Well, except this Sunday. He wished it could be a normal boring old Sunday instead.

He leant down and whispered, "I think I like Clara."

"Uh…okay?" Rory wasn't sure what this had to do with him.

"I need your help," The Doctor explained. "You convinced Amy to go out with you – how did you do it?"

"I'll try not to take that as an insult."

"Okay, let's face it, Rory. I'm not the best when it comes to you know…" The Doctor trailed off along with his hand movements.

Rory nodded. "Bit of an understatement."

The Doctor ignored him. "What do I do?"

Rory shrugged. "I mean, I'm pretty sure she likes you so just ask her if she wants to do something with you."

The Doctor stared for a while in thought. "Okay," he finally said bravely, adjusting his bowtie. "I'll do that."

It wasn't until he was halfway up the stairs to the Ravenclaw common room that he realised Rory hadn't given him much advice at all. He could turn back right now, he thought. He was just about to when three first year boys came trotting down the stairs. One of them gasped, "Are we allowed to go to the other houses dorms?" The Doctor cursed the timing.

"Well…when you're a Head," he answered, smiling. Knowing he couldn't seem like he'd been following them downstairs he kept walking forwards. The three of the first years headed off, two of them mumbling about how they were going to be a Head when they were in sixth year and the other telling them that there was no chance they could both be Heads and the probability of any of them being Head was unlikely when you consider how many other first years there are.

The Doctor took a deep breath and nervously awaited the riddle. He wasn't nervous about sneaking into another house or the question, he was confident he would get that right but at that moment, he hoped he wouldn't so he had an excuse to run back down the stairs.

"Munkswood," he answered easily and the door slid open. He'd never been into this common room before but he liked it. The only one apart from his own that he'd been in was the Gryffindor common room.

"What are you doing here, thief?" Idris asked. She always called him that since he stole her chocolate frog – that she wasn't going to eat – in first year.

"I'm looking for Clara," he answered. "She's still here, right?"

Idris nodded her head behind the Rowena Ravenclaw statue. "She's in her bedroom. Third on the right."

"What?" he asked. "Do you not have to share?"

Idris and the group of second years huddled around the fire laughed. "Of course not. Second day of term we decided we should all have more space so almost the entire house used our combined powers to cast an undetectable extension charm. Little bit of redecorating here, renovating there and poof we've all got our own rooms."

The Doctor headed off, impressed and wandered to the third door on the right. He knocked on the door. "Clara, it's me. Can I come in?" There was a long pause. "Or could you come out? Or-or I could just come back later – or-or not, I mean I don't have to…"

"I don't know…where I am," Clara said.

"What?" the Doctor asked worriedly.

"I don't know where I am. I don't know where I am. Please help me, I don't know where I am," he heard Clara say in a panic.

He threw open the door to see her lying on the floor unconscious. He dived to the floor beside her, checking to see if she was alright, trying to wake her up. He was relieved to find a pulse when his head darted towards a mirror on her bed. Not letting go of Clara, he stretched to grab it. It was a glassy handheld device that looked like just an old mirror. In it, the Doctor could see a frightened Clara, repeating over and over again, "I don't know where I am." The Doctor tapped at it pathetically, but Clara couldn't see him. He withdrew his wand and pointed at it, all spells forgotten. With one last leap of hope he cast the only spell he could of: a patronus charm. When his owl had no affect he decided to do something that could work or be potentially the worst possible thing to happen in the history of the world. He hurled it at the wall, smashing it into thousands of scattered pieces.

Clara took a gasp of air and coughed as if she'd been drowning. That's what it felt like. The Doctor grabbed her tightly in relief. "You're okay, you're fine," he spoke softly into her hair. What had happened? Martha along with a number of other Ravenclaws had gathered outside the door.

"Merlin's beard!" Martha gasped, walking inside. "Is she alright? What happened her?"

"I – I don't know." He pointed to the pieces of glass on the floor. "I think her mind was trapped in it." Martha cautiously took a step towards the pieces and picked up the handle which was relatively unbroken.

"Seven years bad luck for that," someone at the door said.

"I'll go tell Professor McGonagall," another said, quickly abandoning the door frame.

"Come on," Martha said to the Doctor. "We better get her to Madame Pomfrey's."

The Doctor nodded, carefully getting to his feet while still holding Clara. He knew all too well that she was short but she had never seemed so small before.

Clara dazedly woke up a few hours later. She opened her eyes to see the Doctor at her bedside, closing his book once he noticed she'd woken.

"Hey," he said softly.

"What happened to me?" she asked.

The Doctor scratched his chin. "I was rather hoping you could tell me. Do you remember it?"

Clara thought hard, she could remember what it felt like but she couldn't remember how it had happened. "I was scared. Really scared. I didn't know where I was…"

The Doctor smiled sadly. "Well, do you know now?"

She nodded.

"Well, then sleep. Madame Pomfrey says you should."

Clara obediently closed her eyes but noticed the Doctor didn't get up to move. She opened them again. "Are you really gonna sit there all night?" she asked, "Madame Pomfrey won't let you."

He shrugged, "I won't budge from this spot."

"Well then," she said, sitting up. "I can't let you be lonely."

The Doctor smiled at her. "That was supposed to be my job."

"Yeah well you're rubbish at it when I'm asleep. What are you reading anyway?" she asked, snatching the book from his lap. Wizard Communication of the 19th Century.

"I was trying to figure out what happened to you," he explained. "Look," he opened it to the page he'd been examining when she had woken up. "That's where you went from what I could see," he said, pointing to a picture of an almost identical mirror.

"What, I was sucked up by a mirror?" He sighed and rubbed his eyes, "I don't know. McGonagall and some of the other teachers are working it out."

Professor Mott came in soon after, with a horrified look on his face.

"What's wrong, Professor?" Clara asked. He was usually full of spirit, this was strange for him. She couldn't help but feel her heart race.

"Oh, my dear I'm so sorry," he said, reaching Clara's bed. The Doctor stood up. "What's wrong?" he asked.

Mott gave the Doctor a look of dread. "It's him," he said.

"Who? Voldemort?" the Doctor asked.

Mott shook his head. "No, my boy. The Master."

Clara felt like she'd been hit by a curse. She was dizzy and felt like she was going to throw up.

"He's got a trace on all of these mirror things he can get his hands on," Mott explained. He turned to Clara, "I'm so sorry. He found your father's. Tracked it back to you – you had the connected mirror."

"But why would he do that? What would he need me for?"

He took a deep breath. "To build an army. These are being used to keep in contact with people now since everyone's being separated and they don't trust that the post won't be intercepted, am I right?" he asked Clara.

She nodded.

"That's what I thought. Common war communication. Well he's found a way to use them to his advantage. Your dad's high up in the ranks-"

"Is he okay?" Clara croaked. She couldn't lose him too.

"I'm sorry, we don't know."

Clara felt bile rise in her throat and she wanted to scream.

"He's been using these to grab as many unwilling participants as he can – the people who agree with him have no need to use alternative methods to the post. He won't be happy that you got away but if smashing the mirror's all it takes, you wouldn't be the first. I reckon you're safe now…" But your dad probably isn't, he left out.

Clara curled into herself and buried her head in her pillow, letting out a muffled sob. She heard the Doctor mutter something to the Professor and he left.

The Doctor went back to Clara, rubbing her shoulder in an attempt to comfort her. "I'm so sorry, Clara," he whispered. She didn't understand why he was really sorry and for now, the Doctor was grateful for that.

A few minutes passed and nothing changed besides Clara's increasingly damp pillow. Madame Pomfrey came over and said to the Doctor, "I'm sorry but you need to leave." He looked up, noticing for the first time that he'd been crying too. "But-" he began hoarsely.

"Rules are rules," she interrupted.

He nodded reluctantly and kissed Clara's head. "Goodnight, Clara," he said, leaving back to his common room. He almost laughed, thinking that a few hours ago his biggest worry was getting Clara to go out with him.