Molly stared nervously at her new friend lying on the bright white bed. The woman who had frozen her had turned out to be the school nurse, the very ruffled school nurse. She had been flitting around the room for five minutes fixing the scrapes and cuts on Brook and ignoring Molly's pleas to unfreeze.
It's her own fault! The nurse had replied, fighting on the first day. I don't care who started the fight. The nurse, Madam Pomfrey, had listened to Molly's explanation of what had happened, but Molly was becoming desperate,
Madam Pomfrey! We're going to miss the Sorting. What happens if they don't sort us and they just tell us to go home, please! Let her go! Madam Pomfrey turned with a huff,
I'm not keeping her prisoner. I'm fixing her. And the Headmaster would not turn you home yet, I am sure. As for that Lucius, however, if what you say is true... her voice faded off. Suddenly, from the doorway, an old but humorous voice began to speak,
No one will be expelled today, Poppy. Miss Andrews, Mr. Malfoy, and a Mr. Weasley will receive warnings, though. Another event such as this cannot be tolerated. Molly turned her eyes to the man. He was old, perhaps ninety, but he seemed to have an energy that was not normal for a man his age. A long flowing silver beard fell to his waist and bright blue eyes sparkled under his half-moon spectacles. His gaze met Molly's.
You would be Molly Camden, then, it wasn't a question, I suggest that you get to the Sorting. It will be starting momentarily, and you will not want to miss it. Molly began to protest, glancing worriedly at Brook. He smiled a little,
Miss Andrews will be fine, we will Sort her and Mr. Malfoy separately when Madam Pomfrey feels they are ready. Madam Pomfrey grunted and set about her work again. With one last guilty look at the frozen Brook, she hurried out of the room.
Molly wandered carefully through the enormous halls drawn the sound of students' talk and laughter. She passed great suits of armor and grand paintings, wondering all the while how she would ever keep her mind on studies in such a place. The clatter grew louder and louder, and she could see a dancing light up ahead, like the light made by a thousand candles. She walked forward.
The room was magnificent. Four long tables clothed in yellow, scarlet, green, and blue held hundreds of students dressed formally in their black robes and hats. Dozens of candles, just as Molly had imagined, floated in the air, lighting and warming the hall. There were no windows, but the ceiling... Molly saw the ceiling for the first time. It wasn't there. In its place was a clear night sky dotted with brilliant stars and a full moon. Molly stared in awe.
Incredible, isn't it? Said a low voice by her shoulder. Molly couldn't stop staring, she couldn't even blink, so she simply answered,
Yes... it's marvelous. The person beside her laughed little, a light, happy sound, and turned to her,
I'm Amos Diggory, he said, still smiling by the sound of his voice. Molly tore her gaze from the sky and looked at the boy next to her. He was tall, probably a foot above her with dark brown, almost black hair, that fell into his light gray eyes. Molly felt her knees tremble a little, and she beamed up at him admiringly,
she stuttered out, Molly Camden. He grinned again, and Molly's stomach swam.
First year?He asked with a knowing look. All Molly could do was nod as she stared into the depths of his eyes. He flashed a grin again and said,
I started two years ago. Still pretty amazing, though. He turned his gaze back up to the ceiling and the two stood there for a moment silently watching the stars. He shifted and said,
Well, I have to go, they're calling me at the table, nice to meet you, Molly. He grinned one last time then walked off toward the yellow table. Molly sighed. She closed her eyes and then opened them again, trying to make sure that Amos was real. Wow, was all she could think when he didn't disappear.
called a girl's voice from across the hall, hey Molly Camden! Molly jerked back to the real world, and was relieved to see Brook trotting over to her.
Who was that?! She asked, a little bit of the amazement Molly had been feeling creeping into her voice. Molly sighed again.
Amos Diggory. Brook stared at the yellow table,
She said, dazedly.
Molly muttered as they started off toward the front of the room where all of the first years were gathering.
As they walked between two tables (scarlet and yellow) Brook explained to Molly that Madam Pomfrey had declared her but Malfoy was still rather battered. Molly bit back a laugh at this, feeling guilty that she'd known Lucius for a matter of hours and already was inclined to hate him. Brook went on to say that the battery wasn't entirely her doing. Apparently, some kid named Weasley had gotten into a fight with him only moments before they had stumbled upon him. Something clicked in Molly's head, and she remembered Dumbledore saying a Mr. Weasley would receive a warning. She wondered what Malfoy had done to make the Weasley kid jump him too. She didn't have long to think about it, however, because they reached the front of the room where an enormous woman with stringy black hair was pushing the first years into a line.
She cried in a voice that sounded like fingernails on a chalkboard. Brook looked at Molly with an expression that simply said, who is that? Molly shrugged her shoulders and made her way toward the beginning of the line. When I call your name, the stringy-haired woman announced, step forward to be sorted.
Dumbledore stood up across the hall and a hush fell over the crowd. Good evening, students! He greeted them warmly, I hope you all had pleasant summer holidays. Our caretaker, Mr. Apollyon Pringle, has asked me to remind all students that flaming milk tarts and disappearing-heel shoes will not be permitted in the castle this year, along with all the other items listed in Section ß of the rule book. Remember that no one is to enter the Forbidden Forest or exit the castle past eleven o' clock at night. I know this will be another splendid year. Now let the Sorting commence so we may eat! Professor Naphtha, he waved his arm, motioning for her to begin.
The stringy-haired woman, presumably Professor Naphtha, stepped forward. She drew a thick rag out of her robes. For a moment Molly thought she was going to clean off the short stool in front of her, but then a noise somewhere between fingernails on a chalk board and Molly's great-grand uncle's singing reverberated around the hall.
Good Day, brand new students,
You've come from afar,
To arrive here at Hogwarts,
Where you'll learn magic,spells, and charms.
Before you enchant anything,
I'm afraid we'll have to know,
Just what house to put you in,
But don't fret, I'll know where you should go.
Four houses, there are, my friends,
Each with their own special name,
Hufflepuff, Slytherin, Ravenclaw, and Gryffindor,
Each with their own great acclaim.
Helga Hufflepuff was a kind, trustworthy sole,
Always fair and just to anyone she'd know,
Hufflepuffs, now, have distinctive traits,
They always work hard and diligently and they hate to be late.
Salazar Slytherin, was not quite the same,
He was very ambitious and he achieved great fame,
Slytherins love to win, they strive to ace the test,
And with those the same as them, they are at their best
Rowena Ravenclaw had a truly brilliant mind,
There was not an answer that she could not find,
Ravenclaws always master magic and grow,
These clever minds seek and find all they want to know.
Godric Gryffindor set a lion on his crest,
Courage and bravery is for what he is known best,
Gryffindors are now noble, bold and valiant chaps
They don't have to think to just know how to act.
So come and sit down calmly
And place me on your head.
I may be a hat, but I'm the best,
There is no need to dread!
The voice, which had grown more tolerable during the song as though it just needed some warming up, ended and the hall broke out into a tumultuous applause.
Professor Naphtha stepped forward and rolled open a brand new scroll. She took a deep breath and called out the first student's name, Ackerly, Elisa. A small girl with dark brown eyes and black hair crossed over and sat the stool. She put the hat on her head and sat and wringing her hands until the hat shrilly called,
Elisa took it off and wandered shyly toward the yellow table amid polite clapping.
Adams, Matthew. Professor Naphtha beckoned, and a lanky blond boy advanced to the stool. He was declared a in moments, and Molly watched apprehensively as Naphtha called Brook to the stool.
As Brook sat, the hat sinking slowly over her shiny blond hair, a few whispers broke out in the hall. The fight, which had lasted only minutes, already seemed to be making Brook famous. Suddenly, she shook her head determinedly no' and the hat made what looked like a shrug then cried,
Happiness exploded inside of Molly. Now if only I can get in too, she thought, crossing her fingers as her name was called.
She moved cautiously to the stool and placed the rather smelly hat on her head, where in slipped down and enveloped her face. A voice like low bells sounded inside her mind,
Ah, a Camden, it said thoughtfully, Usually have strong opinions. I can see you're not afraid of much, but very clever as well. Not much ambition, though. Hmmm... It was silent for a moment and Molly fidgeted nervously Not patient either, it said, sounding a bit annoyed. Any preferences? It asked her in the deep voice,
Molly thought hard, I want to be in Gryffindor!
The hat asked, No changes once it's done, you know. Molly felt herself nod aggressively and the hat screamed,
A joy filled Molly unlike one she had ever felt. She didn't even know why she was so happy, it wasn't like she didn't like the other houses. She wondered about it for a moment as she walked toward the scarlet Gryffindor table, but just decided that it was meant to be when she saw Brook waving her over excitedly.
Brook was laughing as she pulled Molly onto the bench. Molly, this is Phil Weasley, she giggled quietly, pointing to a tall boy with fiery read hair and a large nose, Phil, Molly Camden. Phil reached across the table and shook Molly's hand while her eyes analyzed him; Weasley, she thought critically, did he attack Lucius?.
I'm a forth year, Phil announced in a surprisingly deep voice and interrupting Molly from her thoughts. My youngest brother, Arthur, is a first year too. He'll be last to be Sorted, I'm sure, as our name's a W. My sister, he said, motioning to a tall girl with the same red hair farther down the table, is a Sixth year. Her name's Louisa. She's a prefect, and very proud of it. My brother was one too, so were Hollis and Angie, though, so it's nothing new. Molly held her hand up, begging him to stop for a moment.
How many siblings do you have? She asked in an exasperated tone. Phil laughed and counted off on his fingers,
Seven, not counting me of course. There's me, Arthur, Louisa, Hollis, she graduated last year and is working for the ministry as a supervisor of magical creatures, John, he's twenty eight and works at Flourish and Blots in Diagon Alley, Angie, she works for the Daily Prophet as a copy editor, she's thirty, ...I think, Stewart, who has a store in a town like Hogsmead, and... he took a second to catch his breath and recount his fingers, Oh, and Patrick, who is a HufflePuff. He's the only Weasley that hasn't been in Gryffindor. We were really quite amazed when.... Molly stopped listening. Her eyes were wide with admiration for Phil's mother, whoever she was. Molly knew that she would never ne able to handle that many kids and survive.
*************************************************************
She looked back up to the Sorting, letting Brook listen to Phil ramble. It looked like two girls and one boy had been Sorted into Slytherin, (the green table) another girl, Tompkins, Rena, had gone to Hufflepuff, and a boy had gone to Ravenclaw. As Phil had guessed, Arthur Weasley, who Molly quickly recognized as the boy who had barged into their compartment on the train, was the last to be sorted. The hat had barely touched his head when it called out, to deafening applause.
When Arthur was sorted and seated, Dumbledore stood up once more, stretching a little. I trust you will all treat our new first years kindly. Now, enjoy your feast! Dumbledore swished his wand gracefully and the golden plates in front of them magically filled with food.
Molly was more hungry than she'd thought, and the dinner was the best she'd ever tasted. That was not even mentioning the dessert. Molly had a big weakness for good chocolate, and the chocolate at Hogwarts was exceptional.
In a half hour, Molly looked over the table of Gryffindors. Their talk was dying down, their eyes were drooping, and every one of their plates had been all-but-licked clean. Molly herself was beginning to feel as though she wouldn't be able to stay awake another moment when Dumbledore stood up one more time.
I see that everyone has finished, so, Prefects! He directed, lead your students to your common room. Sleep well, classes begin in the morning.
Dumbledore's voice jerked Molly back to her senses. She was starting her classes tomorrow! She couldn't believe it. Transfiguration and charms and potions...
Brook waved her hand in front of Molly's face, Where did you go? Molly sighed,
Brook grunted softly in disbelief,
Trust me, she said blandly, one week of school and you'll wonder why you ever wanted to come here. It's all work from what I can tell from my parents' talk. She shook her head at Molly and pulled her up and they followed Louisa Weasley and the rest of the Gryffindors down the corridor.
The journey to Gryffindor tower was long and tiring and by the time they stopped in front of a painting of a rather fat lady, they were all ready for bed. Louisa turned to them all with a sleepy but authoritative look, Listen, now. She glared at a group of first year boys who had been talking, the password is Aluminum Linoleum' until further notice. The portrait swung open, and Molly and Brook had their first looks at the Gryffindor common room.
Four large billowy couches were crowded around a huge fireplace and a deep mahogany table. There were more tables scattered about and chairs with scarlet cushions surrounding them. Paintings were hanging on the walls in no particular order, but most contained a handsome man with a large nose with a shield labeled Godric Gryffindor' or the Gryffindor lion. A few windows provided a view of the starry night sky and torches from the walls shed a flickering light upon the room.
Pretty amazing, isn't it? Phil Weasley said from beside Molly. She smiled, thinking that she would be living here for the better part of the next seven years, she returned, Molly yawned in spite of her excitement. It had been a long day, she decided, and tugged on Brook's sleeve, pulling her toward a sign that read, dormitories' and pointed up a stairway.
When they found their way into their room, they discovered that it was already occupied. Three girls were unpacking their things and making their beds. They each turned as Molly and Brook entered, but the one closest to the doorway was first to speak.
She said with a bright smile an Irish accent, My name's Darcy Finnagin, Darcy had virtually the same build as Brook, tall and skinny, but she had long straight black hair and hazel eyes where Brook was a blue-eyed blond. Molly introduced herself and Brook and faced the other two girls. They were Jenica Madley, a bubbly girl with alert brown eyes and honey-brown hair that fell in tight ringlets, and Allison Jordan, a pretty black girl with dark eyes and dimples.
They talked a little as they unpacked, about what they thought would be their best classes, and rumors about teachers, but after a while they all fell silent and crawled into bed. Sleep came quickly and easily for all of them, and it was morning before Molly knew it.
She opened her eyes; the sun was shining in through her window, lighting up the whole room. That's kind of weird , she thought, it's not normally so bright this early. She made a sleepy grab at her watch on the night stand, took one look at it and groaned. She was late. On her first day of school, she was late. No one else was in the room, so she ran to her trunk and pulled out a pair of khaki shorts and a pink top. She threw her black cloak on and ran down the stairs.
She raced through corridor after corridor, but she couldn't seem to get anywhere. Suddenly, she tripped. Her knee smacked into something cold and metal. She looked at it. It was a hand mirror. Shining silver vines twisted their way around the edges, what appeared to be bright green emeralds shimmered as leaves, and the mirror itself was completely perfect, without a scratch on it. She gazed transfixed into its depths, and gold galleons began to fall out of the sky all around her. Rainbows formed and encircled her. She laughed. Someone laughed with her. Molly, Molly, she said,
She closed her eyes, letting the beautiful voice ring in her ears. Her eyes fluttered open and she smiled for whoever was calling her. It was Brook, looking very frustrated, You're going to be late. Jenica, Darcy, and Allyson were standing behind Brook looking worried.
Brook, c'mon, Darcy said impatiently, just cuz Molly's gonna be late doesn't mean we have to be. Brook nodded.
You better hurry, she said to Molly. She started to turn but then added, We've got Transfiguration with Hufflepuffs first; second floor, third corridor. I've heard Professor Dale isn't very kind when people are tardy. Hurry. She scurried out the door with the other girls and left Molly alone in the room to change.
Deja vu, she muttered to herself under her breath as she pulled on her pink top and khaki shorts.
Molly dashed out the door with seven minutes to make it to class. She came back two minutes later, realizing that she had forgotten her purse, and two minutes after that when she remembered she had to bring her books to class. There is no way! She thought, screaming inside her head, No way can I get down three floors and over two corridors in three minutes. She sprinted anyway.
Down the first flight of stairs... two minutes and thirty seconds... down the second flight... two minutes and eight seconds... third flight... one minute and forty-two seconds... over one corridor... one minute and five--- CRASH!!!
Molly smacked into the hard wood floor, her books scattering all over the floor. She cried loudly, though there was no one to hear. No, no, NO! She flung her arms out and scraped up all the papers she could and grabbed her book roughly by the spine. As she struggled to her feet, she threw a backward glance at the scrolls she was about to abandon and stopped dead in her tracks.
The seconds slowed down. She could feel her heart beating sluggishly and her mouth dropping open, centimeter by centimeter. She hadn't fallen. She had tripped. She had tripped on a small hand mirror with emerald leaves and silver vines. Her thoughts were delayed confused as she reached her hand out to the mirror. Oh my God, she mumbled aloud, gazing into its depths.
She watched as piles of Galleons fell in the glass. Rainbows circled in it. But no one laughed, and no one woke her up.
she heard a voice that was almost mechanical but somehow still silky and educated. Molly blinked twice and stared at the mirror again. A face had appeared; a face unlike any other she'd ever seen. Eyes that held all the colors of twilight stared out at her from under long, dark eyelashes and waving silvery-blond hair. The lady smiled a smile so beautiful and pristine that Molly smiled back without thinking. Her face was perfect; the face that every girl wishes she had and every boy wishes he could see. She laughed and Molly closed her eyes, focusing on the sound like birds singing all around her. the Lady in the Glass said again. Molly answered without thought, without protest, and without care,
she said, though her voice sounded hard and cold next to the Lady in the Glass'. The Lady laughed again.
If you perceive and don't believe, you cannot learn nor can you win. Molly felt her senses returning to normal.
I believe, I believe, she cried as the image of the lady faded, afraid, for some reason, to let her go. But it was to late. The Lady's face swirled in a pearly mist and was gone.
Molly realized where she was again and dropped the mirror, her hand shaking violently. It clanged loudly to the floor, but did not break. She thought of the Lady in the Glass and what she'd said, If you perceive and don't believe... she whispered, trailing off at the end.
A throat cleared loudly behind her. She swiveled around and bit her lip in horror. Excuse me, came a low, cruel voice. It was the caretaker, Apollyon Pringle, who was famous for his love of giving detentions. She hastily shoved the mirror into her purse and smiled meekly at him. You wouldn't be attempting to cut your first class of the year, would you? Break the record, perhaps? Molly's mouth went dry, she had completely forgotten about class! Her face must have gone pale because Pringle turned the corners of his mouth in an evil grin.
You'd better move. I'll be following you. If you're not in class when that bell sounds... he grinned again and Molly wrinkled her forehead in confusion. She turned her wrist and stared unbelievingly at her watch. It said she had three minutes to get to transfiguration.
Molly slid into the room with windblown hair and red cheeks and only seconds to spare. A loud bell sounded and all of the doors slammed magically shut. Breathing heavily, Molly collapsed into an empty seat next to Brook and laid her head down on the desktop. She was trying to focus on catching her breath when she heard the attendance being called by a strangely familiar voice.
Molly lifted her head up and saw Amos Diggory standing in front of the class. Her hands flew up to her hair, trying desperately to force it back into its pink ribbon without calling any attention to herself. She shot a look at Brook and leaned over to whisper to her,
What's he doing here? Not sure whether to be happy or worried, she didn't wait for Brook's answer but hurried on, do I look okay? Brook looked as though she was about to say something, but instead jerked her head in the direction of the front of the room.
Camden, Molly? Was being called and Amos' eyes were carefully searching the room. They landed on her and she put on what she hoped was an apologetic-but-adorable smile. He grinned back, winked and moved on down the list. Molly felt her heart flutter. She looked at Brook, whom had one eyebrow raised in question, and wrote clearly on her parchment in front of her, Isn't he the cutest?' Brook looked up at the front of the room, studied Amos for a moment, turned back to Molly and nodded, smiling. She took the parchment and scribbled in shiny purple ink, You go girl.' Molly couldn't help but giggle.
As Amos went on with the roll call, Molly swiveled in her seat and whispered ecstatically to Brook, What's he doing here?! He's a third year, he told me so yesterday! Brook shrugged her shoulders indifferently,
He hasn't done anything but call role yet. Why's it matter anyway? He's here. She turned her face back toward the podium where Amos stood, appreciating the view. Molly thought about it for a moment, decided that Brook was completely right, and joined her in goggling. She fell into a state where sighing was the only language, but was jogged out of it soon enough when she heard,
Weasley, Arthur? being called. Weasley, she thought as she had last night, was it this one that had beaten Lucius up, then? Or maybe the Hufflepuff one... Her thoughts trailed off as she noticed Amos begin to move around down front. He cleared his throat and the class quieted.
He said, and flashed a grin that made Molly's stomach lurch a little, My name is Amos Diggory. There were a few mumbled greetings scattered throughout the room and Amos went on, I'm a Hufflepuff third year, I've met a few of you already, his eyes brushed over Molly and a couple Hufflepuffs, but I'm sure I'll get to know you all soon. As I said, I'm a third year, but I'm rather advanced for my age when it comes to Transfiguration-- he was cut off by a tall man with musty brown hair and a five o'clock shadow that had emerged from the back room.
the man said in a gruff voice, Ha! Damn near the best at it I've ever seen. Don't short yourself on credit, Diggory; if your good, say it! The man finished and began to dig through a pile of papers strewn about a large desk. He looked back up when the room remained silent and turned to Amos, Go on, then, Diggory. He motioned expectantly at him, and then walked back into the back room.
Amos smiled, Professor Dale, he said with a glint in his eye, your new Transfiguration teacher. A few murmurs danced around the room, but Amos either ignored them or let them pass as normal. he continued, I'm already through with all of the Transfiguration I have to take to graduate, so Dumbledore and Dale thought it was a good idea for me to help some of the younger classes, and this is the period I have free.
So you'll be here for all of our Transfiguration classes? Asked a small blond haired Hufflepuff girl from the back of the room. Amos nodded emphatically,
Yeah, that's pretty much what it boils down to. Molly silently shouted for joy and sent an excited look to Brook, who beamed right back.
The rest of the class period flew by. Amos (and occasionally Professor Dale) described to the students the art of transfiguration and gave them each the task of turning a needle into a match. Molly was successful on her fifth try, and received, to her delight, great praise from Amos as she was only the third in the room to accomplish it. Brook took most of the class period, but when she was finished her match was flawless; and Arthur Weasley was the very last to get done. He kept having problems splintering the wood before he could add the striking part and went through approximately thirty needles altogether. In the end, though, everyone was able to finish and Dale seemed very pleased.
That is the first class of first years I've ever had get completed on their first lesson. He smiled benignly at them, and they beamed proudly back, until they heard what he said next, at least, And since you've done so well, I've thought of a special homework assignment for you. All the smiles wilted and Molly heard a Hufflepuff next to her give a loud groan, but Dale kept on, I want two rolls of parchment on The Art of Transfiguration and How it Affects our Lives' for next class. He nodded and said, That will be all, and retreated to his back room.
Molly sank into her chair helplessly and chanced a distressed look at Amos. He laughed a little, That's Professor Dale for you: work, work, and if you finish, there's always more work. But two rolls shouldn't be too hard if you listened today. Molly smirked,
Of course I listened, but this is only the first class of the day. I can't wait till Potions, I've heard Naphtha's just a peach. Amos chuckled,
If you have that much work by the end of today, I'll help you with it. I haven't got this class to worry over anymore anyway. But I seriously doubt you'll have too much. Molly raised an eyebrow challengingly,
Ha! I hope your right, but I seriously doubt it. She mentally patted herself on the back and promised herself that if she didn't have that much homework by tonight, then she would find more. She glanced back up at Amos' smiling face. A lot more.
They day passed faster than any other Molly could remember. It was packed full of new names, faces, and lessons and Molly was a little more than disappointed that she wouldn't have to make up any homework assignments: her new professors had taken care of that perfectly. On the one hand, she thought lazily, I will definitely be able to weasel my way into homework-help from Amos. On the other, I'll have to waste perfectly good flirting time actually doing work. She sighed and crawled into her four-poster bed.
As she lie thinking of the crazy day and listening to the quiet breathing of her sleeping roommates, she remembered that morning. Molly sat up in bed so quickly that she almost caught her head in the lace curtains surrounding her. This morning! She thought desperately, This morning she'd found the mirror! Molly slid off her bed silently and tiptoed to the night stand, where she'd left her purse before going to bed. She carefully slipped her hand inside it and felt around. I must have imagined it,she thought, just a bit hopefully,I dreamed it this morning and got confused when I was running to class. She was trying to convince herself, and it was working, Exactly, thought a rational voice in her head, I just projected my dream onto..... Her hand grazed over something cold and metal in her purse that not even the voices in her head could deny.
Her arm began to tremble as she pulled the mirror from her purse. It was exactly as it had been that morning, exactly as it had been in her dream. Silver vines still twined around the edges and green gems still glinted where leaves should be, and a pearly mist was still swirling in the glass.
Molly didn't look into it. She moved her gaze firmly away from the glass and back to the framework. It was old, she noted. Not that it was scratched or rusted, but it had an air that only antiques could provide anymore. She traced the vines around the edges and turned the mirror in her palm. She blinked her eyes once and then drew her eyebrows together. There was writing on the back; a curvy script that formed into words she had never seen before:
SEM
La Rorrim den Nogrog
Euryale
Molly sounded out the words in a whisper, La Ro-rym den Naag-rawg Yuri-ale. She gasped and her hand trembled even more violently. Something was happening.
The air was growing thinner and Molly felt as though she was slowly suffocating. The dormitory around her was fading to blackness and her legs and arms tingled from lack of oxygen. Molly's head felt light, but she could hear a sound like the jingling of tiny bells far away. Then she felt herself slip from consciousness.
She didn't know how long she'd been out, or what time it was now; but her left arm felt as though the bone had split in two and her back like it had been pierced by thousands of needles. She groaned and opened her eyes painfully, then let out a gasp that would have bounced off the walls and echoed a million times. . . had there been any walls.
Molly shut her eyes and opened them again in disbelief. Not only were there not any walls-- there was not any anything. She was surrounded by a blinding whiteness, like being on an acre of land covered in nothing but snow. Only there was no snow. And she wasn't cold. She wasn't hot either, in fact, all of her senses but one seemed to have failed her: she could hear a far off jingling. But it wasn't even normal jingling that had no specific pattern and just rang, it was consistent, repetitive, monotonous. Jing-Jing-rest-rest-Jing-Jing-Jing. Jing-Jing-rest-rest-Jing-Jing-Jing. And it kept getting louder.
Jing-Jing-rest-rest-Jing-Jing-Jing Jing-Jing-rest-rest-Jing-Jing-Jing
Jing-Jing-rest-rest-Jing-Jing-Jing Jing-Jing-rest-rest-Jing-Jing-Jing
Molly clapped her hands over her ears and screamed. No sound came... only jingling. She felt tears welling up in her eyes and began to shake all over, but only jingling answered. Her breathing became fast and her heart began to race. The tears spilled over.
Jing-Jing-rest-rest-Jing-Jing-Jing Jing-Jing-rest-rest-Jing-Jing-Jing.
Help me! She cried, pressing her hands tightly over her ears. The jingling stopped, and a silky voice laughed.