A/N: Thanks everyone for the reviews!(Ninde Annare, BuckNC, AbercromB, CountingCodFish) You've all encouraged me to continue with this next chapter... Readers- please take the time to review, I'd love to hear what you think and also some suggestions you can make to hopefully make this story great!
Chapter 3- Memoria (Memory)
I was held firmly as they escorted be down the long narrow hallway. It was all white and large white washed steel doors were everywhere. It was so abnormal- there was not a single door that didn't fit neatly into its hinges. Not a bit of paint that peeled and curled into a tight round ball- just like the wonder of a snails shell. Everything was perfect, but that was the word I'd never use for it, for that vision of perfection was my idea of hell.
"You can let me go you know," I said venomously.
The member of staff that hadn't spoken loosened his grip substantially before he received a kick from the grunting beastly man that now stood behind me. He squealed in pain, clutching his leg protectively. He was half the size of the kicker and apparently twice as feeble. But it had been a hard kick, which was the reason why there was blood scattered over the once pristine floor. It had broken the skin. The sight of blood stirred a forgotten defiance in my brain.
"I'm not likely to run away when my ticket to freedom is round the corner am I?"
He snorted again and stared me in the face. He opened his mouth as if searching for the words; his incisors grated together unearthing rotten food particles. I flinched, but not at the smell for the putrid morsels were being presently sprayed at me as he snarled. "You my pretty flower are too gullible."
That was the last thing I remembered. Unless you count a funny feeling that I encountered a fist flying towards my face. I tried to get up but a strange sensation came across me. Dark colours swirled, infused with pastel shades and blinking luminous lights. Dots of orange merging into calm purples and then... black.
I skipped through my garden, the long grass grazing my bear ankles. I looked up and saw clouds of marshmallow drifting peacefully with the sherbert tasting wind. I smiled at the sky, and the sun returned it gladly. It was such a peaceful day and what was more, my owl from Hogwarts would be arriving soon. My brother Barty was looking forward to me coming, he loved my company even though we had little time to spend with each other. My father- his father too (even though he tries to deny it) has no fondness for him. And Barty I can see tries his best to impress him, to at least once have a father that would feel proud of him. I remember it was on a day like this his owl results flew in by a large tawny owl. He raced up the gravel path, past the privet hedges and through the open doors to my father's study. I didn't hear what Barty said, only my fathers loud shouts. "DON'T INTERUPT ME WHILE I'M WORKING! HOW DARE YOU DISTURB ME! I DON'T SODDING CARE ABOUT YOUR OWLS- MY WORK IS IMPORTANT! WITH OUT ME THIS COUNTRY- THIS WORLD- WOULD BE IN JEPORDY!"
He walked down the stairs and out into the back garden where I was sitting, smiling at my neat row of daffodils that I'd planted earlier in the spring. I didn't need to turn round or hear his stifled voice to know that he was crying. Crying for a fathers love he didn't receive and never would likely to ever have. I hugged him tightly, and cried too, out of pity and guilt, for our father loved his little girl. He loved me. And I was left with the face of a boy with straw coloured hair and freckles dappled over his milky fair face, and that memory would be nothing more...
The next thing I knew I was laying on a table in a room covered with silver and chrome instruments. My eyes stung from unaccounted tears, my face sticky with the trails they made. The sea could have been in my mouth for all the salt I tasted in there, and no one cared, no one knew. No one asked.
As my eyelashes unhooked their tight embrace, my vision became slightly clearer. There was just a woman in a white cloak. No it was a lab coat, muggle's didn't where robes or cloaks. But was that a wand in her hand, it couldn't be? Had my time come, was I really a witch? Then as she approached me, I could see that it wasn't a slender wooden wand but a sharp needle in her hand. "Noooooooo!" I screamed in anguish. I didn't care that it was a needle with a sharp point, but that it wasn't a wand and I was doomed to be a Squib for evermore...
Chapter 3- Memoria (Memory)
I was held firmly as they escorted be down the long narrow hallway. It was all white and large white washed steel doors were everywhere. It was so abnormal- there was not a single door that didn't fit neatly into its hinges. Not a bit of paint that peeled and curled into a tight round ball- just like the wonder of a snails shell. Everything was perfect, but that was the word I'd never use for it, for that vision of perfection was my idea of hell.
"You can let me go you know," I said venomously.
The member of staff that hadn't spoken loosened his grip substantially before he received a kick from the grunting beastly man that now stood behind me. He squealed in pain, clutching his leg protectively. He was half the size of the kicker and apparently twice as feeble. But it had been a hard kick, which was the reason why there was blood scattered over the once pristine floor. It had broken the skin. The sight of blood stirred a forgotten defiance in my brain.
"I'm not likely to run away when my ticket to freedom is round the corner am I?"
He snorted again and stared me in the face. He opened his mouth as if searching for the words; his incisors grated together unearthing rotten food particles. I flinched, but not at the smell for the putrid morsels were being presently sprayed at me as he snarled. "You my pretty flower are too gullible."
That was the last thing I remembered. Unless you count a funny feeling that I encountered a fist flying towards my face. I tried to get up but a strange sensation came across me. Dark colours swirled, infused with pastel shades and blinking luminous lights. Dots of orange merging into calm purples and then... black.
I skipped through my garden, the long grass grazing my bear ankles. I looked up and saw clouds of marshmallow drifting peacefully with the sherbert tasting wind. I smiled at the sky, and the sun returned it gladly. It was such a peaceful day and what was more, my owl from Hogwarts would be arriving soon. My brother Barty was looking forward to me coming, he loved my company even though we had little time to spend with each other. My father- his father too (even though he tries to deny it) has no fondness for him. And Barty I can see tries his best to impress him, to at least once have a father that would feel proud of him. I remember it was on a day like this his owl results flew in by a large tawny owl. He raced up the gravel path, past the privet hedges and through the open doors to my father's study. I didn't hear what Barty said, only my fathers loud shouts. "DON'T INTERUPT ME WHILE I'M WORKING! HOW DARE YOU DISTURB ME! I DON'T SODDING CARE ABOUT YOUR OWLS- MY WORK IS IMPORTANT! WITH OUT ME THIS COUNTRY- THIS WORLD- WOULD BE IN JEPORDY!"
He walked down the stairs and out into the back garden where I was sitting, smiling at my neat row of daffodils that I'd planted earlier in the spring. I didn't need to turn round or hear his stifled voice to know that he was crying. Crying for a fathers love he didn't receive and never would likely to ever have. I hugged him tightly, and cried too, out of pity and guilt, for our father loved his little girl. He loved me. And I was left with the face of a boy with straw coloured hair and freckles dappled over his milky fair face, and that memory would be nothing more...
The next thing I knew I was laying on a table in a room covered with silver and chrome instruments. My eyes stung from unaccounted tears, my face sticky with the trails they made. The sea could have been in my mouth for all the salt I tasted in there, and no one cared, no one knew. No one asked.
As my eyelashes unhooked their tight embrace, my vision became slightly clearer. There was just a woman in a white cloak. No it was a lab coat, muggle's didn't where robes or cloaks. But was that a wand in her hand, it couldn't be? Had my time come, was I really a witch? Then as she approached me, I could see that it wasn't a slender wooden wand but a sharp needle in her hand. "Noooooooo!" I screamed in anguish. I didn't care that it was a needle with a sharp point, but that it wasn't a wand and I was doomed to be a Squib for evermore...