1A/N: Ok, I re-edited this one mostly for spacing, but there are a few changes...there's some gore in here, be warned. It was fun to write (LOL).
Disclaimer: Not mine (officer).
A slightly younger-looking Gemma halted her progress washing a greenhouse window, staring through the glass at a school across the street. The weather outside was gray; as she watched, a storm gathered overhead.
She sighed wistfully before returning her attention to the window.
As the day wore on, the sky continued to darken, and just as she finished the windows it began to pour. She stumbled outside, leaving the greenhouse door banging in the wind.
Making for the door to the house closest to the greenhouse, Gemma attempted to open it; as expected, it was locked. Her father grinned cruelly at her through a window, before slamming the shutters in her face. Gemma shrugged to herself, having predicted all of this; besides, she would rather be outside right now.
Some food would have been good, too, but that was more than she could hope for at the moment. The Powers That Be were giving her her favorite type of weather and plenty of time to enjoy it; Gemma decided to make the best of the situation.
Spotting an old garden trellis leaning against the house, she hurried over to it and quickly scrambled up to the gutter. Clambering over the edge of the roof, she settled herself against the brick chimney, letting the water soak her from head to toe. Soon her hair was plastered to her face and she was shivering, but Gemma didn't care.
She was too caught up in the storm.
Absently untying the scarf wrapped in her hair, she tossed it into the air, watching as the wind contorted it and swept it off to unknown places, disappearing from her sight.
This image, too, faded to black, until a new one replaced it.
Standing in the center of the living room, pointing her wand at her dead father.
Gemma's eyes were filmed over, covered by a whitish sheen, but as the door slammed open, they cleared, showing confusion and bewilderment.
She had enough time to open her mouth and say, "Wha-" before at least ten Ministry-trained Aurors piled on top of her, Stunning her within the instant.
This vision flared into a blinding white; pain filled her head, a stabbing throb that was everywhere at once and made her scream in agony.
Images flickered past her unseeing eyes.
A black-haired man lying next to a red-haired woman on the floor of a nursery illuminated by the flames licking up its walls.
A street full of bodies, silent but for the sound of a single man laughing…a laugh that was somehow familiar.
A small, desolate cupboard with a spider dangling from the ceiling.
A tiny glass ball breaking on a marble floor, and smoke rising from it.
A familiar castle crumbling and in flames, bodies strewn everywhere.
And finally, not a picture, but a sound, a boy's screaming layered over the castle in ruins.
The sound went on and on and on and on…Gemma's eyes snapped open, darting around the cell wildly.
Slender hands scrabbled on the stone floor as she searched (on and on and on and on) for the rock she used to mark her calendar.
Finding it quickly (and on and on and on and on), she began to sharpen it on the stone wall.
I can't take this…need to get out…(and on and on and on) make it stop makeitstop makeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstop…without hesitating, Gemma brought the rock down onto her wrist and dragged it towards her body, gouging deep into her skin.
Switching hands, she did the same to her other wrist.
And again…(on and on and on and on) anything to get out.
Soon the blood was gushing out, flowing down her palm to her fingertips in rivulets.
The rock became too slippery to hold, and slid from her grasp with a clatter.
It was funny, she thought detachedly, how the cell around her was fading quickly, but the screaming was still as loud as ever.
Slipping sideways down the wall, she muttered, "Sorry Sirius. I just couldn't…"
The cell before her, dim to begin with, flickered once and vanished into a wall of solid black.
"Hey. Hey you. Mortal. Hellllo?"
"Whassamatta?"
"Oh, for Circe's sake…WAKE UP!"
"Ahh! Ahh! Ahh, get off me, I'm up! What's with all the name calling and slapping? Ow. Ahh!"
"Oy vay," muttered the voice. Opening her eyes, Gemma surveyed her surroundings. It was…black. Very black
"Am I…dead?" she asked, suddenly wide awake.
"In a matter of speaking, yes. You see, human, there are nine levels of the afterlife. Or death, heaven, hell, call it what you will. You are merely floating on top, in the first layer. Most mortals sink straight to level nine. But some, like yourself, get detained for some reason or other. You will not be permitted to pass on for one reason: it is not yet your time. You will return to the world above until you complete your appointed task."
"All right, then. I must be completely hungover…"
"Believe what you will, but fate will catch you up."
"Wait! Can you at least give me some advice, sir?" Gemma called out desperately, feeling the man's (thing's?) presence beginning to fade.
"Well, since I like you…trust the water, trust your talents, and trust your friends. Vengeance is sweet, but too much sugar turns the best dish sour. Also, never wear a belt over a tucked-in shirt. It's tacky, and it always will be. Cheers!"
With that, the blackness fell silent, and Gemma felt utterly alone.
Not for long, though…a white light came into view, speeding closer and closer to her, until it engulfed her completely.
Gemma opened her eyes blearily.
She felt like she'd been hit by a train.
Come to think of it, it was quite possible that she had been.
Bit by bit, she took stock of her surroundings.She appeared to be in the bed of a pickup truck, resting on something soft and lumpy. Looking down, she stifled a shriek.
Beneath her lay countless bodies, bumping and jostling each other as the truck thundered along.
Once her heart rate had calmed down to something nearing normal, she realized that she must be en route to the mass graves of Azkaban, where deceased prisoners were buried in large holes.
Not exactly her desired destination.
Wincing as she stepped on various body parts, and trying to avoid the faces, Gemma clambered over to the tailgate of the pickup.
Pushing herself carefully over the edge, she landed on the ground with a painful thump. She waited until the pickup was out of sight before standing up and dusting herself off. Staring off into the distance, she contemplated her next move.
Gemma had, somehow, accepted the guardian's (she had neglected to ask his name, or what he was, but this name seemed to fit) words, and had resolved to keep her ... death ... to herself.
Who was she to complain?
Maybe she could find Sirius again…he had been her friend and mentor during her stay in Azkaban, and she missed him.
Gazing at the horizon, she made up her mind; Azkaban was an island; the guards lived there, and the prisoners were transported by authorized portkey.
There was no way off, save death.
And she had already tried that one.
The only other possibility was to jump off, into the water, and swim for it.
Suddenly, her mind made the connection: Trust the water…the guardian had been telling her to jump!
Walking westwards and encountering no guards, thankfully, Gemma made her way to the shore of the island.
Standing at the peak of a tall escarpment that fell away directly into the sea, Gemma balanced there for a moment.
Then she jumped.
Immediately, her head was sucked under the water. Panicking, she fought her way upwards through the icy waters. Floundering to the surface, she gasped for air and spluttered as a wave filled her mouth with briny water. Reorienting herself, she noted the thin gray shadow on the horizon and struck out for land.
0o0o0o
Gemma floated on her back, letting the water carry her where it would.
She was just too tired; she couldn't think straight.
The swimming had been two strokes forward, one stroke back.
So exhausted…the waves, which had seemed so hostile mere hours before, now seemed gentle, caressing her beaten body, luring her into soft, sweet sleep…
Opening her eyes, Gemma quickly grimaced and shut them again.
Bright midday sun pierced her eyelids, sending pain lancing into her skull.
Rolling over on her side, she coughed up seawater onto the sand.
Scrambling to her feet, she was rewarded with a burst of agony and a flare of white.
When the light cleared, she looked around warily.
She must have fallen asleep while trying to battle the waves.
The churning water had tossed her up onto this beach.
Gemma felt surprisingly awake and refreshed.
As she squinted into a marvelously colored sunset, she mentally reviewed her to - do list.
It was relatively short.
One: find wand.
Two: clear name.
Three: find Sirius.
She sighed; none of them would be easy, and they would all be impossible if she didn't find out where exactly she was.
A/N: So..re - edited that one mostly for spacing. REVIEW PLEASE!