Yellow-green water enveloped Susan's body, blinded her, and rushed through her nostrils and mouth when she tried to take a breath. Grasping her throat, she coughed up a bubble of air, which floated through the murky liquid and made its way to the top. Her shoes were caught deep in the mud, and with a furious kick she released her feet from the boots, but felt herself blacking out from lack of air. As her vision dimmed rapidly, she grasped her wand, waggled it frantically, and felt a very strong force shoot her upwards, and she broke the surface.
She took a deep gulp of oxygen, feeling that she could never get enough. When she came back to her senses, she realized that Helen was not with her.
"Helen?" she asked croakily, kicking her legs weakly and searching the surface. "Helen? Are you there?"
It became apparent that Helen wasn't there, and she felt her strength giving out from kicking, and she started to slip beneath the surface again, arms and legs akimbo. As her head slipped back into the water, she felt her foot hit something soft - Helen!
Limbs flailing in a stroke that resembled a front crawl, she grabbed the front of Helen's robe and began a pitiful attempt to haul her to the surface, but she was too weak. Bubbles of air escaped from her mouth, and she fell down again to the silty bottom.
As soon as she hit, light exploded in front of her eyelids, and Susan dimly assumed that she had died, and gave in with a dismayed, watery sigh.
Color exploded many shades of green. Opening her eyes, she saw the water again, and Helen, who had also opened her eyes. They both inhaled, and water slipped down into their lungs, filling them with life-giving air, and renewing them. Untangling themselves from the weed that was on the pond bottom, the twosome clawed their way to the surface, where their heads lifted above the liquid, and took a breath of real air, which made them cough and splutter.
Vomiting up pond water, the two collapsed in the shallows, too exhausted to even climb all the way out of the pond. This was the last Susan knew.
Helen dimly felt strong hands hoisting her up, but assumed it was a dream... and slept again.
# # #
Falling... falling... falling... Grace felt her body twisting cruelly through empty space, and tried to scream, but her voice was too hoarse to do so...
Opening her eyes, she sat up violently, with a throbbing pain in her ankle. But what bothered her more than this was the fact that she was not just falling anymore, she was lying in a comfortable, very large bed, furnished with scarlet and gold tassels and trimmings. Around her were a very large vanity covered in cosmetics and behind her were two large windows, both of which were shut. The walls were a creamy off-white, with a golden candelabra stationed on each. On her left was a plush crimson chair, with a very elegant dress lain out on it, in a floaty shade of ivory, with matching shoes, ear drops and hose.
The door opened. In popped a short, friendly-looking man, with a bushy black moustache and beady eyes. He smiled and bowed to Grace, who blinked at him.
"My lady awakens," said he. Grace shook her head.
"I don't understand," she said dizzily. The man nodded sympathetically.
"Lady Rochelle residence at court found you in the palace grounds - nearly dead. We brought you in here... does my Lady remember her status and name?"
"I'm Grace Finnigan," Grace said, looking startled. "I don't have a status..."
The man looked very grieved. "My Lady... you are Lady Lydia of Greenspring, we know no Grace Finnigan."
Grace drew in her breath sharply and clutched her blanket to her chest. "Who are you?"
"Aduel Jamson, your loyal and obedient, Nobility."
"There must be some mistake - My name's not Lydia..."
"Of course it is, My Lady, you are just confused... Ah, I know somebody who will be very happy to see you!" said Aduel, smiling. "Come on in, Sir Tyrone."
'Sir Tyrone' was a very tall, broad, scarred looking man with a worried look on his face. He was wearing chain mail that was gold-brushed, and had a shield with a yellow background and a green fluer emblazoned on it under one hand. He sat down beside Grace and took her hand in his.
"I was so worried, my sweet, what happened?" asked Sir Tyrone.
Grace was too horrified to even attempt to answer.
"You do not know," he said quietly. "Surely you remember our betrothal, at least."
Now Grace was terrified and tried to inch away, but her ankle sharply protested with a bolt of pain that nailed her in place. "Marriage?" she whispered, blue eyes glazing over.
"The happiest day of our lives," Sir Tyrone answered happily. "Now, please let the ladies assist you in getting dressed so we can go and dine tonight.." the knight trailed off, motioning towards the dress. Grace was now openly gaping, and backed up, making her cry out in pain.
"But you are injured," Sir Tyrone simpered, pulling back the blanket and looking at her ankle, which was indeed very swollen. "We shall get a palace healer to deal with this, Lydia, we must.... Aduel, fetch the finest doctor in the palace, your Lady needs healing!" he demanded of the servant, who bowed and left. "Now you just lay back, and..."
But there was no need to try and talk to Grace, or 'Lydia', as she had already fallen back onto her pillows, in a dead faint.
# # #
Gerald was in the midst of having a horrid dream about falling, when he dimly heard voices chatting to themselves.
"I think he's coming around!" one whispered. The voice sounded young and boyish, as well as concerned.
"Nergh," Gerald said, hauling himself to a straggled sitting position, and looking about.
He was lying on the ground, with a stick of wood in his hands, and a myriad of young boys crowding about over him, blocking the sky.
"Ah," one of the boys said, "there's no keeping Marq down for long."
"Marq?" asked Gerald, voice very muddled. "What's a Marq?"
The boys shifted uncomfortably and looked down at Gerald. "He doesn't remember his name," one of them whispered fearfully.
"Move," a gruff voice ordered. The boys obeyed. A man approached the fallen Gerald, who was squinting and trying to make sense of what was going on. The man knelt down to face Gerald, green eyes rough and piercing.
"Marquell of Edgewood," the man said gruffly, "do you remember anything?"
"Falling," Gerald said. That was all he was sure of at the moment - he had been falling. The tall man snorted.
"Foolish boy, I told you that horse was too big for you, and now you've got a nasty crack on the cranium. Do you remember who I am?"
Gerald shook his head.
"I'm your Lord Quentin. Remember that." He shot a look at the boys. "What are you looking at?" Lord Quentin snapped. "Valleyrose, Silver Shore, over here." Two boys stopped and turned around, bowing.
"Yes, My Lord?" they both said in unison.
"Take Edgewood up to his quarters," Lord Quentin ordered.
"Who's Edgewood?" Gerald asked dizzily. "I'm Gerald Finnigan. Where-where's Grace?"
"Got a crack on the head, didn't you?" one of the two boys - either Valleyrose or Silver Shore - asked with a throaty laugh. The two boys lifted Gerald with ease, and one of them pried the stick from his fingers.
"You won't be needing the lance anymore, Marq," he said jovially, throwing it to the side.
With that, they both bore Gerald to his rooms, with Gerald wondering whom exactly this 'Marq' character was.
# # #
Rob blinked into consciousness, lying in a puddle of wet and listening to somebody wail.
"It would be like Martha to pull a stunt like that - dropping the washbasin on Edgar's head... maybe we had better get medical attention," a voice said.
Rob reached for his glasses, and fumbled them on, finding that there was a large crack in the left lens.
"What?" he asked creakily, feeling ill. Around him were about five people, all dressed identically in kacki-colored breeches, white shirts and black tunics. Looking down at himself, Rob found that he was also dressed in uniform.
"Are you okay?" one of the men asked, a worried frown on his face. "You had a nasty spill there, Eddy."
Eddy? wondered Rob, looking about. He was sitting in a puddle of soapy water, and attempted to move out of it. The man that called him Eddy helped him.
"You must be mistaken," Rob said once he was out of the water. "But my name isn't 'Eddy'. It's Robert, Rob for short."
The men looked at each other uneasily. "Maybe the spill was worse than we thought," one of the other men said. The man who called him Eddy gave Rob a friendly clap on the knee.
"Your name is Edgar Oplethorn, son of Marie and Samuel Oplethorn. You work at the Castle Sapius and have worked here ever since you were three. Does that ring a bell?"
Rob gaped. "Where am I again?"
"Castle Sapius. Why?"
Rob had to clutch the wall for support. Maybe this was all a dream, caused by thinking about his parents and their adventure at the Castle. But, wasn't Sapius a dead, deserted place of evil? It didn't seem like it.
"We're supposed to be serving the nobles at dinner with the squires," one of the other men said, frowning. "Demendros, I hate that job."
"Demendros?" asked Rob. "What's that?"
"Demendros," the man said frowning, "is the god of all servants and slaves. Eddy, maybe you should stay down tonight."
Rob shook his head. "No, I'm fine. What's your name?"
The man looked affronted. "Smith Barnes. You don't remember?"
"Of course," Rob said quickly, "just making sure. Anyway, what's up with the nobles?"
Smith made a face. "Fetch me this, fetch me that. This beef's too hot, it's too well done, it's too messy. I hate serving them."
"I see why," Rob said thoughtfully, rubbing his forehead. "My head hurts."
Before he could protest, Smith hoisted him up into his arms and carried him off. "You need to have a good sleep before tonight."
Rob struggled fruitlessly, and Smith bore him to a rather cramped, small room with a cot on the side, and placed him gently upon it. It wasn't very comfortable, but Rob fell asleep almost as soon as he hit it.
# # #
After the burning rain had stopped, a very large search party had been sent out to scour the Forbidden Forest for the missing children.
The parents of the children had conjugated at a rather small home in the warm tropics, which had happened to belong to Albus Dumbledore. Seamus, Gabriel, Hayley, Robert, Hannah and Chenelle were there, for moral support, as well as Draco, who was Sarah's fiancée.
"Now," Dumbledore said, setting out the tea, "you say you have reason to believe that Voldemort is responsible for all of this."
Sarah's brows furrowed irritably. "Of course he is!" she snapped, in perfect Sarah style. "Who else would conjure burning rain, and use it the second our children were out of the eyes of teachers?!"
Draco squeezed her hand at this, and the facial features of Sarah softened. Robert rubbed his forehead.
"We don't know that for certain, though," he said, in a more reasonable tone than Sarah. "They might be lost in the Forbidden Forest..." he trailed off when he heard an owl tap at the window.
"Excuse me," Albus said, pointing his wand at the window, which clicked open. A tawny brown owl fluttered in, dropped a piece of parchment and flew off. Dumbledore read it, sighed, and folded the parchment back up.
"It appears that the forest was scoured both magically and manually... nobody was found. They did, however, find the potion bag your children were using, and the remnants of a Dark transporting spell..."
Sarah thumped her fist on the table so hard that Draco's teacup fell over, but Hayley spoke first, and she had gone whiter than cheese. "What should we do?"
Dumbledore rubbed his temples. "I would suggest staying in a safe place - having Voldemort come after you as well would most certainly not do. Perhaps you should go under a Wizarding Witness Protection Programme..."
"Absolutely not," Sarah and Gabriel chorused. They looked at each other, and Gabriel went on.
"It's bad enough that our children are missing, Professor," Gabriel said, not knowing what else to call Dumbledore. "But what if they are just lost, or get transported back? They need to know where we are, and who we are."
Seamus nodded agreement, and he rubbed his hands along his wife's shoulders to try and get her tense muscles to relax.
Chenelle shook her head. "He has a point," she put in sensibly. "It won't do for Tom Riddle to come back and massacre us all."
Robert took a sip of his tea. "Why don't we all stay at Hogwarts?" he inquired. "There's no safer spot than that. Even if the raining episode happened there." He still seemed incensed that Tom Riddle had put one past him, and Hannah patted his arm.
"You did all you could," she said in a very strained voice, although she was whiter than the moon.
Sarah was rigid with anger; she gripped her teacup with such force that the handle broke off.
"Hogwarts it is, then," Gabriel said coolly.
# # #
Feeling like some ogre had beaten her with hammers, Helen staggered to a sitting position and felt around her warily. A loud, resounding noise echoed around wherever she was, frightening her. She reached around, and decided that she was sitting in a cupped enclosure that was well padded, but not quite like a bed. Feeling over, she felt Susan, lying in a heap at her feet. Helen sharply prodded her friend in the elbow.
The prodding jarred Susan grudgingly into wakefulness. "What?" she moaned, trying to curl up back into sleep.
"Get up, Susan!" Helen hissed. "Tell me what you see."
Susan blearily opened one eye a crack, and then was immediately wide-awake, looking around her with wide eyes.
They were sitting in what looked like an overlarge bird's nest, with the outside woven out of sticks, and the inside padded with what looked like garments of clothing and snippets of cloth. There were several hundred nests exactly like this around them, stationed on craggy gray niches of rock. The surroundings that the nests were in were the biggest cave Susan had ever lain eyes on. There was a very large opening about three hundred feet to the right of them, and the other end of the cave spanned as far as the eye could see, but was very well lit with bonfires every fifty feet.
Susan relayed this all to Helen, who frowned thoughtfully. "It's not an evil place," she said finally. "I don't sense evilness here."
The snapping of a twig betrayed the fact that there was something else in the nest with them. The girls' hair stood on end, and they both turned around. Susan couldn't muffle a horrified gasp when she saw what was in the nest with them.
It was what appeared to be a human, but it wasn't. It was unclothed, but this was unnecessary, because thick black fur covered its legs like pants, the exact shade of the black hair that lay matted on top of the thing's head. The eyes were bright silver, like liquid crystal, and it had the appearance of a Caucasian human, with a few differences.
Instead of finger and toenails, it had long claws that protruded from its hands and feet that were about three inches long. But the most surprising of all this was that stationed on its back, neatly folded in creases in its flesh, were large black dragon wings.
Susan gasped for breath faintly, and Helen wrinkled her nose. Her delicate nose could pick out the smells of the thing - mountain air, water, and the fleshy smell of animal.
The thing chirruped curiously, and took a step closer, and Susan and Helen gaped up at it, unsure of it's motives.
"Perhaps we should introduce ourselves?" Susan peeped, looking up at the creature with eyes wider than saucers.
Helen pointed her herself. "Helen," she said. She pointed to Susan. "Susan."
"Hail-un," the creature said with some difficulty, looking at Helen. "Soo-zun," he went on, pointing at the black haired girl. Finally, the creature - Susan had decided it was a he - pointed to himself. "Yizeer."
"Yizeer," the two girls repeated dutifully. The winged human - Yizeer? - smiled delightedly, and dropped a parcel of greens before the girls. He clicked something incoherent to Helen and Susan before flapping his great wings once and gliding over to another nest.
"Maybe its food?" Susan asked, drawing Helen away from staring after Yizeer. She was plucking at the greens, and wrinkling her nose. Helen grabbed a part and took a sniff.
"Phew. It smells like leeks."
"Maybe we shouldn't eat them..." Susan trailed off as her stomach rumbled vigorously. Helen giggled.
"Tell your stomach that."
"Okay, okay."
There were indeed leeks in the greenery, along with alfalfa sprouts, a handful of sesame seeds flavored with honey, and even crab apples, all carefully washed.
"Sour!" Helen exclaimed after biting into an apple.
"Sour for a sourpuss," Susan commented dryly. Helen gave her a shove.
"Quiet. I wish I knew what these winged people are called," she said thoughtfully, chewing on a handful of alfalfa.
# # #
"Luftwings," the page Gerald knew as Jordan answered promptly. Master Scotia nodded.
"Yes, the correct term for the winged human is the Luftwing," he explained, pointing towards the chart. There are two types of Luftwing - carnivorous and herbivore. Does anybody know where these beasts live? Balfour?"
Lenored of Balfour stood up. "Mountian ranges, Sir. They are most populated in the mountain range Opus, but herbivore species live on Mount Rinonaut."
"Correct. As we move on..." Gerald turned him out, looking at his hands.
Ever since people had been referring to him as this Marquell of Edgewood, he had been doubting his identity. Maybe he just imagined himself as Gerald, and he really was Marq. Or maybe this was all a dream. It was too confusing. But did hallucinations prompt such real-looking memories? It was so vivid. His sister, his parents, his friends... he shook his head. No need to pour over things he couldn't solve.
"All right," Master Scotia said, putting away his thick volumes on creatures and pulling out a thinner edition. "It's Satur's day, and it's time for your favorite thing."
All of the boys sat up a little straighter. On Satur's day, Master Scotia always gave them riddles to figure out, and the one who got it normally got some sort of token, like a sweet. The Master flipped through the yellowed pages, until he settled on one.
"Ah, here we go:
Forward I'm heavy,
Backward I'm not."
If they were waiting for more, it was not forthcoming. That was it? Gerald thought. He was no good at riddles. This was more Grace's sort of thing than his... who was Grace? he asked himself, clenching his fists. He was having all of these confusing flashbacks, and he didn't appreciate it!
There was much muttering and writing on paper as the boys tried to figure this out. They were almost to the point of giving up, when a voice drawled from the doorway.
"You all aren't that thick are you?" Gerald/Marq looked up, as well as the rest of the class.
In the doorway stood a young maiden, crossing her arms and leaning against the doorframe. She had long, blonde locks that were gracefully furled into swirls and pinned against her head. Crystal blue eyes glinted against a very tan-looking face for a lady, and she was clothed in a light green frock, looking irritated.
"Lady... Greenspring, was it?" Master Scotia asked, bowing slightly. "You know the answer?"
"It's ton," Lady Greenspring said. "Forward, a ton is heavy, and if you read it backwards, it spells not."
"Very good!" Master Scotia said approvingly, nodding.
Gerald looked at Lady Greenspring very hard. Something about her was familiar, though he couldn't quite put a finger on it...
"Grace!" he cried out, before he could stop himself. The entire class turned to look at him, including Lady Greenspring and Master Scotia.
"Marquell!" Master Scotia said sharply, "where are your manners?"
"Gerald?" asked Lady Greenspring/Grace. "Is that really you?"
There was an awkward silence in the room. "Ah," Master Scotia said quietly. "I presume you were childhood friends? Are those nicknames?"
"No," Grace said. "We're twins. Can't you see the resemblance?"
"You look very similar," Master Scotia said stiffly.
"Have you seen Robert?" Gerald asked, feeling certain of his identity now for the first time in about a week. "Or Helen? What about Susan?"
Grace shook her head. "No."
Master Scotia had gone slightly pink with frustration. "Lady Greenspring, I am trying to conduct a class here, if you please!"
Grace looked at her brother. "Later," was all she said, before walking out. Almost after she crossed the threshold, the bell rang for lunch, and the pages rushed out, whispering that Marq still wasn't right in the head after his fall.
# # #
Rob (or 'Eddy') had changed into nicer clothes, consisting of a white shirt, and a black tunic and hose. His black leather shoes were about two sizes too big, but there was nothing he could do about that, so he just laced them as tightly as he could and went to find Smith, and his girlfriend, Costelletta, or Costy for short.
"Now," Smith said, straightening his tunic, "you've been assigned to wait on the lesser nobles at the lower table, Eddy. Lucky. I have to cater to the ladies-in-waiting." He made a face.
"Hey," Costy said, buttoning her blouse, "it could be worse. You could be waiting on the royalty."
"That's the squire's job," another servant named Wesley reminded him. "Tie up your shirt, Edgar."
Rob obeyed.
"Now, don't be worried, lil' buddy," Smith said, tying his boot. "It's not hard. Just don't make conversation with the nobles at all cost, and cater to their beck and call."
Rob scowled. "Yessir."
Smith let out a throaty roar of a laugh and shook his head. "Go get em', Eddy."
Rob sighed and went to go get the fingerbowl for the ladies. He frowned, rubbing his eyes. Since his glasses had been cracked and did little good, his vision was always blurry, and it was rather a pain.
He walked through the door and into an ocean of color. The palace uniforms for the servants were dull and faded into the background against the brilliance of the dress of the nobles, the bright green-and-silver of the squires and pages, and the decorations of the room added to the splendor.
Too bad I can't enjoy it, Rob thought bitterly, straightening his tunic with one hand and walking to the table he was to wait on.
It was not a very large table, and quite below the salt, and for all that, Rob was relieved. Even though he didn't know who the king was, he didn't know what he was doing, and didn't want to look like an idiot in front of him. Looking out of the corner of his eyes, he saw a squire dip a graceful bow, and offer the fingerbowl to a lady, dip another bow to the man next to her, and murmur something, and then offered the fingerbowl to the next lady. Rob took a deep breath, and approached the table.
"If my lady pleases?" he said gracefully, dipping a low bow, and offering the fingerbowl. The lady smiled at Rob, rinsing and drying her hands. "Thank you," she said.
Rob bowed slightly, and then turned to the man next to her, and bowed slightly. "Sir," he said, before offering the bowl to the next lady.
Unlike the last lady, she stared at the waterbowl, as if unsure what to do with it. Rob looked up. "My lady?" he asked, and then nearly dropped the fingerbowl.
It was Grace.
"Grace?" he whispered under his breath. Grace looked up, stared at him for a long moment, and then drew a breath.
"Rob? I-I didn't recognize you without your glasses..."
"I know, I know," he said hurriedly. "Please wash your hands - people are starting to stare!"
The man sitting next to Grace frowned, his face furrowing like scarred oak. "Do you find something interesting in Lady Greenspring, Boy?"
Grace plunked her hands in the waterbowl, slopping water all over Rob. "Tyrone, dearest" - Rob noted with interest that Grace's face contorted when she called Sir Tyrone 'dearest' - "it was nothing."
The other court ladies looked at Grace, noting her dripping hands. Rob made a face, as his tunic now had a wet spot on the front of it. "Sorry, Rob," she whispered sheepishly, drying her hands on an inner petticoat.
"If I may be excused?" Rob asked, walking away quickly.
He met another servant who was working with the food, who Rob knew was named Syril. "Is there a problem, Edgar?" he asked.
Rob sighed. "One of the ladies got water all over me," he said, frowning. Syril sighed.
"Here," he said, taking off his tunic. "We'll switch... I don't plan on working with the nobles."
Rob thanked him, and switched, refilling his bowl, and walked back out. When he passed by Grace, she tucked his napkin in his pocket discreetly.
After offering the fingerbowl to the rest of the ladies, Rob checked the napkin, which looked like it had words written in it in oil.
Gerald's here, too.
Rob's heart skipped a beat - that was good. But what about Susan and Helen? They weren't here, or were they? It was a question for him to ponder on a spare moment. But he certainly didn't have a spare on right now, he thought as he accepted a platter of pasta from one of the pages.
# # #
Yizeer had let Susan and Helen out of his nest a while back, and they had spent the day poking about, with many of the winged humans following them. The little ones seemed as intrigued with the humans and Susan and Helen were of them. One of them was even brash enough to leap on Helen's back, and she had found that they were very light - they probably had hollow bones.
Helen and Susan had been talking to one another - like what had happened, where they were, and such. Then, there was a loud, shrill call, and all of the creatures dropped whatever they had been doing and stood attention by their nests. Yizeer called them back to his nest, where they stood.
"What the blazes...?" asked Susan, but Yizeer elbowed her in the side, and Susan fell quiet.
After a few moments, there was the sound of pattering feet and swooping wings. Two creatures flew by, each with a horn in its mouth, blowing an odd tune.
Not far behind, a squad of more creatures trooped past, carrying spears made of mountain rock. Then, after this procession, a singular creature flew by.
Unlike the rest of the winged humans, who had black fur covering their bottom halves, and black wings, this one had gold fur, and shimmering copper wings. He was very muscular, and had snapping green eyes, without a fleck of hazel. Around his neck, something was fastened, which looked like a long, white cloth of some sorts, with color embroidered into it.
"This must be the king..." Helen whispered to Susan, who nodded.
The king stopped before Yizeer and the girls, Yizeer bowed very deeply, and the girls did the same. Reaching out with one clawed finger, the king curiously touched Susan's bushy black hair. He cheeped an inquiry to Yizeer.
"Hail-un," Yizeer said, pointing to Helen. "Soo-zun," he went on, nodding to Susan.
Yizeer motioned to the king. "Izmagusty," he said, straining to make the words right.
"Izmagusty?" asked Susan.
"I think Yizeer's trying to say 'His Majesty'," Helen responded. They both bowed again. Yizeer looked very pleased.
The king crinkled up his eyes in amusement, and then nodded to Yizeer. Yizeer smiled even more broadly than before. The king stood back and raised his arms, looking to the sky, and shouted something. He said it again. And again. He repeated it until the entire cavern was echoing with the noise.
There was a wrenching feeling on Susan's back. It started slowly, but then it grew more and more painful until it was impossible to ignore, and she fell down onto the ground. The king repeated the chant one more time, and this time, it was perfectly understandable to Susan.
Luftwing, children of the air,
bring clansmen in to see and share.
Helen felt her back slowly, and felt something protruding out of it. "Susan," she croaked, "Susan, what's on my back?"
Susan staggered to a sitting position, and looked. And screamed.
"What? What?" Helen asked, genuinely frightened.
"Wings!" Susan cried. "You've got-we've got wings!"
This was too much at the moment. Helen fainted.
Yizeer smiled kindly at Susan. "Welcome to the clan," he said. Susan took a great breath and held it, just to make sure she wasn't dreaming, and could stay awake. Looking down, she saw that the rest of her was still normal - no hair on her legs, or no more than normal, and her fingernails were still right where they were.
"My God," she chirruped, and then fainted away, like Helen.
# # #
Sarah wrapped her cloak tighter around her and looked out the window, over the Hogwarts grounds. Everything was beautiful in twilight - everything was bathed in rich grays and blues, it was dreamlike. But something kept gnawing annoyedly at her insides, and she sighed, wondering where Susan was.
There was a knock at her door. "Whaddya want?" she grunted.
"Sarah?" it was Gabriel.
"That's my name, isn't it?"
"It bites. Ouch."
Sarah snapped her teeth together. Gabriel grinned, and walked over. "You know, I don't think that staring out your window is going to make things better."
"It's not making them any worse," Sarah retorted.
The pair were silent for a moment, while the Hufflepuffs filed out onto the Quiddich field, and started to practice. Sarah snorted as a Chaser dropped the ball.
"Pitiful," she said scornfully. "Blood-sucking pitiful. The Hufflepuffs never could play Quidditch to save their lives."
"They won one year," Gabriel reminded her. Sarah stuck her nose in the air.
"The other teams must have been out with mononucleosis."
"You might as well give it up, Gabriel," Robert said, standing in the doorframe with his arms crossed. "The way our Sarah Slytherin shows anxiety is by getting testier."
Sarah glared at him while Gabriel chortled. Robert settled himself in Sarah's bed. Hayley came in last, carrying Christopher.
"And Hufflepuff is good for other things other than Quidditch," Hayley said dryly.
Sarah rolled her eyes and commenced looking at the Quidditch game again.
All was quiet.
# # #
"You know, I rather enjoy the acts of the living," Salazar said smoothly, twisting his mustache. "It's rather like a drama show."
"Salazar Slytherin," Rowena said dryly. "Master of the Dark Arts, hater of all muggle-born, drama expert."
There was squawking from aways down. Helga came in, looking distraught.
"He's trying to play his bugle again."
"Gods save us," Salazar said, looking at the ceiling. Godric came in, sporting a bugle between his lips and making a lot of what sounded like unglorified noise.
"Maybe music lessons are in order," Rowena said in her cynic voice.
"Maybe a miracle is in order," Salazar spat. Helga giggled.
"You three just have no appreciation for good music," Godric said haughtily, blowing away, making the instrument sound like it was being strangled and dying a slow and painful death.
"Make it stop!" Salazar cried, clapping his hands over his ears. Godric sniffed like a king would, and blew the noise into Salazar's ear.
"Enough!" Helga ordered forcefully, wagging her finger. "We should send the dreams now."
Salazar made a face. "But I like seeing everybody so confused."
Rowena swatted the top of his head. "That's why we don't let you make major decisions. Yes, Helga, we'll do it now."
# # #
That night, Gerald did something he had never done before - he had a bout of sleepwalking. In fact, he did a little more than walk.
He purposefully rose out of bed, walked to his desk, took out ink and paper, and began to write.
There was a voice in his head, melodically singing in his ear a verse, which he dutifully copied down in his sleep.
It's where Gryffindor and Slytherin are the same,
Seek not in head, but in brain,
Second, look in marrow, not in bone,
Not in a gelding, but in a roan.
Third, apple, oak, rowan,
Find not in deer, but in fawn.
Fourth, not in the shell, but in the nut,
See not in open, but in shut.
Look in places the meek would not try,
See where winged humans fly,
Converse with Luftwing king,
Seek beyond golden wing...
Gerald would awake the next morning on his desk, wondering how the verse got there. He got up and preformed his chores as normal, but he didn't know that Grace and Rob had had the exact same dream...
# # #
Up in the sky, black clouds started to gather, and a pouring rain drenched Castle Sapius.
# # #
A/N: O_o That was weird, but I hoped you liked. Please review! ::whines:: I only got three reviews last time. ::finished whining:: Well, anyway. I'll get the next part out as soon as I write it! ::waves:: Bye for now!
~Moxie ^_^
Disclaimer: You know, most of the stuff in this chapter actually belongs to me. That's pretty bad. But the characters and names extracted from the Harry Potter books belong to the great J.K.