Harry stood in numb shock, staring at the girl before him. The girl who looked just like an angel. The one who had a scar, just like his. Slowly, tentatively, he took a step forward, and sat lightly on the bench next to the girl. Hesitantly, he reached out and touched the scar that was so much like his own.
The train braked suddenly, and the lights went out. Harry felt Ron fall heavily on the seat next to him, and Hermione "oof" as she landed on top of him. Harry assumed that Ginny and Neville had fallen to the floor as well, and by the mixed yelling from outside that the crowd were now also on the ground.
Harry was about to ask if everyone was okay when he blacked out.
He was in a room. A white room, and it didn't appear to have any walls. The girl was there. Looking at him. Harry almost jumped.
Her eyes were as blue as his were green. She was looking at him with a mixed expression. Interest, crossed with-
No. Only one person had ever looked at him like that. And they were gone.
The girl smiled at him. Harry felt himself bristle. Who did she think she was? He didn't want this. No more weirdness. This year was going to be normal. No more weirdness. Not now. Not ever. Not anymore.
"Where the hell are we?"
The girl continued looking at him, her eyes boring into his very soul. She smirked.
"Wolfram and Hart, of course. They arranged this, I think."
"And that is where, exactly?" Harry snapped. He chose to ignore the last bit. He'd had enough crypticisms to last him a lifetime. If crypticisms was even a word. She smiled again. No answer. Harry asked then what he had been itching to ask since he first set eyes on her in the carriage on the Hogwarts Express. Now, however, it came out quite more rudely that he had first intended.
"Who are you?"
Her look changed. Her brow creased in confusion, but one corner of her mouth remained upturned. She was wondering. That was the look.
"Don't you know? I know you. I didn't before, but now I see you I remember."
Her voice was soft like velvet, purring across his skin. Harry mentally shook himself. Damn mysticeries, he muttered to himself. He asked again, more demanding this time.
"Who ARE you?" She laughed then. It was a rich, throaty sound, and Harry wondered where he'd heard it before.
"Wouldn't you like to know?"
Dark. It was so very dark here. And cold. He could hear water dripping. The cold wrapped around him like a blanket, the water in the air cloaking his senses, smothering him. Damp.
He was lying down on a hard surface, but Harry could tell it was not the floor. He tried to sit up, but found that his arms and legs were tied down.
The girl walked to his side, her face half hidden in shadow. She perched on the edge of the platform Harry was on. Still smiling. It was eerie, but beautiful at the same time. Dammit, this girl was pissing him off.
"Who the hell ARE you?!" he yelled, twisting and turning in his bonds.
The smile faded. She glanced at something behind Harry's head, her eyes fearful. She hissed quietly through her teeth.
"Naughty boy," she whispered. "Naughty boy never would behave. Sssh, you've woken the puppies now..." Her eyes bored into Harry's and she starred back at him, and he found that no matter how he turned, he could not escape her gaze. Her eyes were green now, though darker than Harry's own - almost back.
"Ssssh..." the girl hissed. She looked back over Harry's shoulder. "They are coming."
Ron and Hermione sat on one of the beds in the Hogwarts hospital wing, watching Harry writhing on the bed beside them, fear in their eyes. He had been like this for hours. They had voluntarily missed the feast to stay with him, as had Ginny, who was sitting on a chair between the two beds. The angelgirl had woken when Harry touched her, but had not yet spoken. She had been taken to Dumbledore's office upon arriving at the school. There was something decidedly weird about that girl.
Hermione, though neither of them had noticed it, was holding Ron's hand. Harry continued to thrash on the bed. A tear leaked down Hermione's cheek, for all she fought to hold it back. Ginny was already in floods. Ron's free hand was clenched so tight by his side that Ginny thought his knuckles would burst through his skin.
Nobody knew what was happening to Harry. Not even Dumbledore.
They were back in the white room. The girl was smiling again, but it was not the warm, friendly smile that had been there before. It was cold, and Harry didn't like it. Her eyes were golden, like a hawk's, but there was a streak of darkness behind them that unnerved Harry somewhat. Something sinister.
"Pity I had to pull you outta there so soon, sweetie. I coulda had some fun." She ran her tongue over her teeth. She was American...Harry's addled brain tried to make sense of it. She hadn't been American before...and her voice was deeper. It was no longer like velvet, nor the girlish tones of the dark room. There was an underlying layer there that Harry couldn't quite put his finger on. It was like dark chocolate...Though he knew there was something not right there, Harry felt he could drown in that voice...
Suddenly, shocking Harry out of his trance, the girl jerked backwards, as if she had taken a blow to the stomach. With a blood curdling scream, she threw her head back, going rigid. After a few seconds her shoulders slumped. She shot a look at Harry that was filled with love...
And the eyes were green.
"Harry, I-" the voice had changed once more. It was softer again, but still different than the first time. Harry was hard pushed to remember all the different voices and eyes this girl had. But this voice...it reminded Harry of fields, and sunsets, and wild flowers...and it was passionate. The owner of that voice loved him more than anything in the world. But before she could finish her sentence, her head rolled back once more, eyes closed. The girl's body jerked stiffly a few more times, like death throws. Her face was contorted into a grimace of pain. Concerned, Harry darted forward, and grabbed her girl's shoulders. She felt so small in his hands, so fragile, that for a moment Harry was afraid he might break her. The girl cried out something incoherent, but stopped jerking. She shuddered, and a fat tear rolled down her cheek.
Then, it was as if she was a different person completely - even more so than before.
Her eyes shot open. They were blood red. The voice which echoed from the girl's mouth was deep this time - a man's - and hollow.
And filled with hate.
"Potter..."
In the infirmary, Harry arched up off the bed, his eyes wide as he gasped for breath. He fell back onto the bed. His bloodshot eyes sought out his two best friends.
"Ron..." he choked. "Hermione..."
Hermione dashed forward, loosing Ron's hand and grasping Harry's instead.
"It's alright, Harry," she smiled desperately. "We're here."
Later that night, Madam Pomfrey had given Harry a potion to slow his raging heart, but had declared that there was nothing more she could do. Dumbledore had told Harry to continue as usual, and said that if he had any concerns or anything else like this happened, he should tell a member of staff.
Harry was sick of this. If his scar wasn't hurting, he was passing out and having fits, because of touching other people's scars! Amazingly, Malfoy hadn't yet said anything, despite having witnessed the entire scene. Harry simply counted this as a lone good thing, if not a strange one.
Next morning at breakfast, Harry sat with Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Neville. They took seats at the end of the table, away from the rest of the Gryffindors, eating silently. Nobody seemed to know what to say. This year had looked so promising to Harry on the train, but already things were starting to go haywire.
When all the students had eaten, Dumbledore rose.
"Ladies and Gentlemen. As I am sure you are aware, the sorting was put off last night due to certain..." his eyes flickered briefly in Harry's direction, "circumstances. I am delighted to tell you, however, that it will therefore take place this morning, so that the first year students may take part in their regular morning lessons. Professor McGonagall, the Sorting Hat, if you please."
He waved his long-fingered hands at the doors, which burst open, and McGonagall entered with a trail of first years behind her. At the end, however, there was a girl a foot taller than everybody else, who was staring at her feet uncomfortably. It was the girl from the train. Immediately, the students as one started whispering. Each and every one, it seemed, had seen her last night on the train and had their own story: about who she was, and why she was joining late. Harry watched her cautiously as she lined up with the first years. She seemed to be normal. Her eyes were that pale, piercing blue again. Maybe the stuff in the blackout had just been a dream? Dumbledore cleared his throat, and obedient silence filled the hall once more.
"As I know you have noticed, this year we have an older new student. She is American, and will be joining us late due to family issues. She is only thirteen, however as her magical skills are already over average, due to whom she was raised by, she will be entered into the sixth year. This decision has been agreed upon by all the Hogwart's staff, AND," Dumbledore shot a look at Draco Malfoy, "the Governors." He smiled as shock rippled through the hall. "And now, to the sorting. There will be no song this year, I am afraid, due to the unfortunate time limitations."
This was followed by an annoyed muttering from the student body.
"And so, we proceed."
One by one, the first years were sorted into their own houses. All eyes were on the older girl. One question had been in all their minds since they had seen her on the train. Who was she? Now, it seemed, they were about to find out.
As McGonagall moved slowly through the M's, the students were getting impatient.
"Come on," muttered Ron, angrily. "Tell us who she is! We've waited long enough."
After what seemed like an age, the moment finally arrived. The students collectively held their breath.
"Potter," called out McGonagall. "Amy."
End Part
