Seven Days, Zero Nights, Take My Hand, We Die Tonight

Day Three

The group burst loudly through the front door of Malfoy Manor; slamming it shut behind them. Harry set the box gently onto the table and moved to sit on the couch, his head in his hands. Hermione sat down beside him and wrapped her hands around his waist. Ron looked at his watch and announced to the group that it was 2 a.m. Day three. They remained silent for the next half-hour until Draco broke the silence. He was peering into the box, examining one of Samara's files.

"This is just all too weird!" Draco said quietly. Harry looked up and moved over to examine the files with Draco. Ron and Hermione soon followed suit, taking a place beside them. "Listen to this!" Draco pulled a newspaper clipping from the box and read aloud:

"Mysterious Sickness Strike Morgan Ranch Horses!

The horses of the Morgan Horse Ranch have always

been labeled as superior creatures of their breed, before

the sickness struck. A sickness marked by insane behavior,

glazed eyes, and uncontrollable nature, it truly left the Morgans'

devastated, and with only a few live horses left. Who were nonetheless

affected with the dreaded disease. A short while afterwards, the Morgans'

daughter, Samara, disappeared without a trace. The disease continued

to plague the Island until the morning of august 16, 1980. Oddly enough,

the horses seemed to completely recover after the breeders suicide.

Investigators conclude that she may have jumped from . . ."

The page had been ripped off at that point, leaving them in an eerie silence "Jumped ," Hermione said in a whisper. They all shared glances as once again a foggy image crept into their minds. Anna leaping from the cliff, the image from the tape. It left them with cold shivers running along their spines. Harry shook the image out of his head and dived back into the box, craving more answers. It reminded him of something out of horror movies. The box was filled with papers and a tangled mess of brainwave electrodes.Harry's heart froze when his hand fell upon yet another videotape. He pulled it out, and heard a sharp intake of breath from behind him. He moved over to the television and popped the tape into the machine.

There was a flash of static, then a moment of fumbling with the camera. A small girl was sitting in the middle of a white room, and in front of her was a doctor at a small desk.

Doctor: "This is SM0015, Samara Morgan, hour 14. So what is it that's keeping you awake, you must sleep sometime? Do you dream about something? Samara? Let's talk about the pictures. How did you make them? Samara, how did you make these pictures?"

Samara: "I don't . . . make them . . . I see them . . . and then they just . . . are.

Doctor: "Samara, I need you to start telling me the truth, okay?"

Samara: "Can I see my mommy?"

Doctor: "No, Samara, not until we understand what's wrong with you."

Samara: "I love my mommy."

Doctor: "Yes you do, but you don't want to hurt her anymore do you? You don't want to hurt anybody."

Samara: "But I do, and I'm sorry . . . it won't stop."

Doctor: "Well that's why you're here, so we can help make it stop."

Samara: "He's going to leave me here."

Doctor: "Who?"

Samara: "Daddy."

Doctor: "They just want to help you."

Samara: "Not daddy."

Doctor: "Your daddy loves you."

Samara: "Daddy loves the horses. He wants me to go away."

Doctor: "No, he doesn't."

Samara: "But he doesn't know . . ."

Doctor: "He doesn't know what? . . . . Samara?"

Static.

The group sat in silence after the static had died away and the tape began to rewind itself. They didn't know how to explain the video they had just seen. The images flashed through Harry's mind like that of the twisted macabre of a massacre. He held his hands in his lap, trying to hide his nervous shaking. How were they to beat this? He looked to the right out the window where the setting sun set the misty landscape ablaze. He looked at the others; Draco had his brow furrowed with a look of intense concentration on his face, Ron, was displaying the ugliest face-Harry had ever seen, and Hermione looked as if she were about to vomit.

Harry cleared his throat to get the others attention. They all looked dismally at the Boy-Who-Lived, a look of exhaustion firmly planted on each of their faces. "We seriously need to figure this all out! Before . . . before we run out of time. Harry turned away from his friends and dove back into the box. He pulled out a pile of newspapers and began reading off bits and pieces of articles. "Quarantined……..Thoroughbreds found on Beach...Called to Dispel Ranch……..Investigators search for answers after second horse drowning………Equine Madness Continues…….Horses Recovering-……oh, guys listen to this, Horses Recovering After Breeders Suicide! And it says here that Anna Morgan suffered from hallucinations and she regularly visited a small clinic located on the Island."

Hermione reached across Harry's shoulder to take the article from Harry's hands. She looked over the article, her eyes whizzing across at breakneck speed. "Ahh haa, I found it! We need to go back to Moesko Island. The clinic that Anna went to on the Island isn't far from the Morgan's house." Everyone stood up from their places around the television and held hands one again. Harry lunged his right foot forward, concentrating on his destination. He then spun on the spot and allowed the sensation to grasp a hold on their bodies. They were suddenly unable to breathe as they were pulled through the invisible pipe that was 10 sizes too small. They didn't know how much longer they could last when they pounded into the damp, cold ground of Moesko Island.

They stood up and brushed the wet leaves and blades of grass from their Muggle clothes and looked around the Island through a heavy mist, trying to regain their bearings. They were surprised to learn that they had landed at the Morgan house, right beside an old tire swing. They walked over the bridge that led to the road to try and once again flag a car down that would take them to the small clinic. They waited, and waited, and waited for a any sign of a car and decided to start walking. They had no idea whether they were going in the right direction or not but they couldn't just sit around in the cold mist and wait for someone that may never come.

They continued their trek, stopping occasionally to see which direction they were going with the "Point Me" spell. They were heading North, Northeast to be exact and hoped and prayed that someone would come along soon. They were about to give up and apparate back to Malfoy Manor but had no need to for the answer to the whole mystery could be right in front of their noses.

They hurriedly climbed the slippery hill that lead to the small clinic and sprinted the rest of the way to the small, dingy porch, for a heavy rain had began to fall from the dark clouds above. They walked inside and were expecting to see a white room with televisions and old magazines and an elderly woman at the reception desk. But none, it like a small cottage and had no televisions and no elderly woman at the reception desk. A few magazines were sprawled on the far end table and a boy, maybe a little younger than they, was at a small baby's toy, silently moving the wooden pieces along the spiraling tracks. "Hello, I'm Doctor Grasnick, how may I help you?" The voice had startled the four of them and they quickly looked up to find the voices owner. It was a woman's, probably in her late 50's or early 60's. She was in overalls and had a concerned look on her face.

"Yes," Hermione spoke, "we do need your help."

"Well, I'll be happy to be of service. You must be from the UK, traveled far did ya'?" The woman said. She motioned for them to sit down at the small chairs lining the waiting room.

"Yes . . . do you know anything about the Morgans'?" Harry asked. His heart dropped into his stomach when the woman's face fell into a frown. "We're sorry if it troubles you, Ma'am, but we really need your help."

"What's this about?" the woman asked shortly.

Draco spoke this time. "We don't know why but . . . we're seeing things, in our head. And we don't know why but it definitely had something to do with their daughter . . . Samara."

"It's been along time since I've heard something like this."

-.:.--.:.--.:.--.:.--.:.--.:.--.:.--.:.-

They followed the Doctor outside, out into the misting rain. "They wanted a child more than anything, poor Anna. They tried for years but sometimes, it's just not meant to be. Then one winter they went away, when they came back it was with Samara. Adopted they said, didn't ever say from where though, said that the mother had died from complications. But they had their baby, they had their horses, everything was fine, that is until Anna started coming to see me. Said she was suffering from visions . . . seeing things, horrible things, as if they had been burned inside her . . . and it only happened around Samara . . . that she had put them there.

"Was you Samara's Doctor as well?" Ron asked.

"Yes, I was." The Doctor said quietly.

"Was there anything, you know, wrong with her?" Harry asked sullenly.

"You mean medically?" the Doctor questioned.

"We mean whatever you mean." Hermione stated.

"Some people have limits. When my son's boy, Darby, was born not to long ago, we knew something wasn't right with him. But, we loved him anyway. It's hard, ya' know?"

"What happened to her?" Draco asked.

"I referred them to Eola County Psychiatric on the mainland, I assume she still there."

"You mean you don't know?" Ron asked in a shaky voice.

"I don't, but ever since that girl has been gone, things have been a lot better around here."

-.:.--.:.--.:.--.:.--.:.--.:.--.:.--.:.-

They walked slowly away from the clinic, just out of earshot so that no one would overhear their conversation. "So Anna saw things too, because of Samara?" Hermione asked in a frightened tone. The others nodded, unsure of what to do next. Harry looked down the long winding road that cut through the murky valleys of the Island. They were at another dead end, unsure of where to go next. "Let's go back to the house, maybe there's something we missed in that box.

They sat in the living room of Malfoy Manor just over an hour after leaving Moesko Island for the second time. Harry was sitting on the floor, his back against Hermione's legs. He was flipping through the tattered photo album, stopping once in a while to stare at one of the morbid collages on the stiff paper. All of them were equally horrifying but one in particular caught his attention, the drawing of a mother and child with the label, "MOTHER." He cringed inwardly and closed the book, not wanting to depress himself further. Harry pulled the box next to him in hopes of gaining further insight on what to do or where to go next. They were running out of time. He wondered what all was happening at Hogwarts, and if people were wondering where they were. But he was sure that Dumbledore had explained everything to everyone.

"What say we get some sleep?" Draco suggested. They all nodded in agreement and stood, they're bodies aching from exhaustion. They walked heavily up the spiral staircase that leads to the long hall of bedrooms. They were about to walk into their bedrooms and say their goodnights when Harry pulled Hermione into his arms. Their lips brushed, and then deepened into a full blown kiss. All Ron and Draco could do was watch with their jaws hanging loosely open. They pulled apart and walked into their rooms, leaving Ron and Draco to stare at their friends' rooms in awe. They finally came back to reality and walked into their own rooms, saying goodnight as they went.

Heavy breathing. Gasp. Burn. Pain. Fear. Screams. Black. Water. Mother. Presence. Symbols. Static.

Harry woke with a start, drenched in cold sweat, his breathing quick and shallow. He just had a dream . . . Samara. His arm stung. his right arm. He looked down, pulling the sleeve of his pajamas up to his elbow. He almost screamed, but instead let in a sharp breath. A burn, in the shape of a hand, upon his right forearm. It was Samara's hand, he knew it. The dream was about her, she burned her mark upon him, and he didn't like it. He put his glasses on and walked out into the hallway. He was about to knock on Hermione's door when he heard a sound, coming from downstairs. He slowly walked down the steps, not wanting to find out who, or what, was making the noise. He was relieved to discover that it was only his friends, talking.

"There's the other lovebird!" Draco said with a smirk. Harry returned the smirk and sat down between Draco and Hermione.

"Did you guys," Harry began, "by any chance, have a dream?" The others shared quick glances before pulling up the right sleeve of their pajamas. On each of their arms, in the same place as Harry's, was a burn, in the shape of a hand . . . Samara's hand. Samara. They lowered there sleeves back to a normal position and sat in solemn silence. They had to find Samara's real mother, she holds the key. But where were they to find her? He looked to the box, and pulled it into his lap. His eyes fought aggressively to close. They had-oh man-slept the day away, for it was now 6 p.m.

Day Four

He pulled out the adoption papers and looked for the name of the orphanage and the address. He literally jumped in the air when he found it, startling the others. "Guys get dressed; we're going to America . . . again."

They ran upstairs to put their Muggle clothes on and held hands once again. They were pulled through the small pipe and were soon outside the orphanage building. They quickly walked inside, out of the rain, and jogged to the reception area. The woman at the desk looked up at the soaked teens. "Hi, welcome to our Orphanage, how can I be of assistance to you?"

"Ummmm," Hermione began, "do you recall a Samara Morgan?"

"Why yes I do?" The woman stated as-a-matter-of-factly.

"Can you tell us who her mother was?" Harry asked.

"I'm not sure I can . . .," she began, looking at their horror struck faces, "but for you kids, I will. She resides at a local Sanatorium" She scribbled on a small piece of paper. "This is the address, I hope I was helpful."

"Thank you so much!" Hermione squealed. The woman nodded and they ran out the door to head to the Sanatorium. They walked for blocks, their legs turning to jelly from the excessive walking. They reached their destination and hurried out of the rain, inside the murky building. They walked up to the front desk and smiled at the receptionist. "How may I help you four?" she asked politely.

"May we see patient number (she looked at the paper) #1454?" Harry asked hopefully.

"Right this way." The woman stood and motioned them through the wrought-iron door, buzzing it open. They followed her down a white hallway, screams echoing in the distance. "Okay, no sharp instruments, nothing that can be used to injure the patient." They each passed through a metal detector, the alarm sounding as Hermione walked through. She removed her hair clips and continued on. They reached a large white, metal door. Inside was a woman at a desk, clipping newspaper articles. All around the room were newspapers, stacked as high as Harry's waist.

"Ma'am," Draco said, "are you, Samara's mother?" The woman turned around and looked at them, seeing them, through them.

"She- she's evil." The woman whispered. "She drove me crazy, I couldn't stand to look at her let alone hold her. So, I took done to the fountain (she pointed out of the window) and tried to drown the little one, but they caught me . . . through me in solitary confinement and rushed the baby to intensive care."

"But, she was your daughter." Harry said, confused.

"You watched the tape . . . all of you." She said softly. She reached for Harry's right arm and pulled up the sleeve. "You see, she's marked you. All of you. And she won't stop . . . she never sleeps . . ."

"But it's not fair, what did we do wrong?" Hermione asked. She walked over to Hermione and placed her hands upon her shoulders. Her breathing quickened her heart in her throat.

"You let the dead get in . . ." she said eerily. Their eyes widened, their bodies shaking. "You must go . . . you're no longer welcome here."

"But-."

"Go . . ." They backed to the door and fell into the hallway. They walked don the eerie white hallway, trying to block out the screaming heard in the background. They walked out the front doors into the rain. Hermione sat down on the stone steps that lead to the Sanatorium and the others followed suit. Damn you, Samara. Damn you.