There have been requests for translations, so after Hebrew, unless it's a 'duh' thing, I'll give the rough English translation in …
BONG!
Sabra jumped, startled out of her reverie by the tolling of the twelve o'clock bell. She yawned, raising one robe-clad arm to cover her mouth, then looked around and realized there was no one else in the common room.
"Hypocrite," she muttered to herself. "You're as tired as Allie was." She stood unsteadily up, and dropped her book on the chair. Bracing both hands backwards on her hips, she leaned back as far as she could, sighing as her tense muscles tightened for a moment, then relaxed.
Sabra bent down to pick up her book, and noticed a piece of parchment under her chair. As she picked it up, she noticed another one, farther behind the red chair. Retrieving that one, Sabra noticed the floor of the common room was littered with bits of parchment, candy wrappers and trash.
She sighed, put down her book, and set to cleaning the common room.
Ten minutes later, Sabra stood up with a bit of a groan, put her hands on her hips and surveyed the room in front of her. It wasn't mavrick, shining, sparkling but it would do.
She picked the book back up and walked up the red carpeted staircase. When she reached the 'ONE' door, she paused for a moment, cocking her ear. There was a soft hiccup-y coming from inside and Sabra poked her head to see what it was.
It was coming from Allie's bed.
Sabra walked softly over and sat on the edge of the bed, and put her hand in the small of the girl's back. Allie jumped, and lifted her tearstained to look at Sabra. She saw who it was, buried her face in the large fluffy pillow again and gave a large sob.
"Bubbelah sweetie , shah. What wrong?" she whispered, and rubbed her hand up and down Allie's back.
"I m-miss my dad," she hiccupped, pulling her face part way out of the pillow. "A-and Mheera; I wanted to be with her!"
Sabra gently stroked her hair and rubbed her back, whispering gently, "Shhh, bubbie. short for bubbelah You can have breakfast with Mheera tomorrow, and I'll help you write a letter to your aba after classes, and you can tell him what happened on your first day. Now, does that sound good?"
Allie nodded slowly, then sniffed and asked softly, "Sabra; what does aba mean?"
Sabra laughed and told her, then sat by her side rubbing her back and hair, speaking softly until she fell asleep. A moment before her eyes fluttered shut, Sabra heard her mutter softly, "Mmmthanks Sabra…"
"En divar, achot katan you're welcome, little sister ," she whispered back.
She sat on Allie's bed for a few more minutes until she was sure that the girl was asleep, then got softly up and padded to the other bed, in which a small girl slumbered peacefully. She checked the other beds to make sure they were all asleep, then, relieved, walked out the door.
Sabra paused for a moment at the top of the red stairway, turned to go to her dorm, and did a double-take. In the armchair she had just abandoned, a small boy was sitting cross-legged, chin in hands. She had almost missed him, but for the red (of course) blanket hanging over the arm. His shoulders were shaking slightly with what she suspected were sobs.
Padding down the stairs, she walked up behind him and gently put a hand on his quivering shoulder. He jumped up, and spun to face her; something that didn't work to well with feet tangled in a blanket. Lurching backward, he almost fell, and would have had Sabra not dived forward and halted his progress.
They ended up with Sabra lying on the floor, supporting the boy's shoulders as he hung over the edge of the chair. Pausing that way for a moment, motion quickly resumed when the boy reached up and grabbed the chair, hauling himself up.
"What's that for?" he demanded as Sabra lifted herself off the floor with a groan and a shake of her head. "Y'scared me!"
"Slichah. Excuse me/ sorry I did not mean to. I just wanted to know what you were doing up so late. Or early, as it seems." She raised a hand to her face to adjust the wire hook over her ear that had almost fallen off.
"Nothin'," he said grumpily. "I was just thinking."
She lifted a hand to his face and gently wiped the tears from under his eyes with her thumb, then reached into her pocket and took out a handkerchief. Handing it to him, she motioned to his face and ordered "blow."
He did so, bringing on a loud honking noise, then wiped the rest of his tears away with the clean bits. Hesitating as he handed it back, she shook her head and stuffed it in her pocket. It had seen worse, and there was nothing that a good washing couldn't get off of her favourite handkerchief.
"Now," she said, setting herself cross-legged in front of the chair. "Tell me what's wrong."
He looked for a moment as if he wasn't going to reply, but when another sniffle came on, and she hastily took the tissue back out, he complied.
"I was s'pposed to be in Slytherin," he said gloomily. "Blaise is, and I'm lonely 'thout 'im."
"You didn't want to be in Gryffindor?"
"Nu-uh!" he shook his head energetically, then paused. "'sides, Mheera's in Slytherin, an' I wanna be with 'er."
Sabra grinned. "Well how about this; we can sit with Mheera at breakfast tomorrow!"
"Nope. Y'gotta sit with your house."
"Says who," she retorted. "Is that a real rule, or just one of the unwritten ones?"
He shrugged, and she smiled. "I guess we'll see. Come on; let's get you to bed. You and I both have a full day ahead of us. It's my first year too, remember?"
He nodded, and scrambled off the chair. "You're Sabra, from 'srael, right?"
"And you're Vincent Zamboni."
Giggling slightly, he took her outstretched hand. "Nu-uh. Zabini."
She bowed over his hand. "Please forgive me Master Zabini. I beg your pardon."
He smiled regally and led the way up the gold staircase, and into the ONE dormitory. It was much like the girl's one, but for the fact that the theme was gold, and not red.
Walking to the last bed next to the lavatory, he climbed in under the covers and wriggled around a bit until there was a satisfactory dent in both the mattress and pillow, then relaxed. He reached his arms up to Sabra for a good-night hug, then shooed he towards the door. "I c'n go t'bed by myself," he mumbled sleepily. "G'night Sabra,"
"Lila tov," good night she whispered as she slipped out the door. Pausing for a moment outside the door, she waited to see if there were any cries, but none came.
Sabra yawned widely, raising one robe-covered arm to cover her mouth. She walked sleepily down the boy's staircase, across the common room and up the girl's. Entering her common room, she saw Zion curled up on her bed, nose touching tail. She grinned and walked as quietly as she could to the lavatory, closing the door so sound wouldn't carry and wake up Lavender, Parvati and Hermione.
After using the toilet and quickly showering, she brushed her teeth and slipped into dark-red flannel pants and a blue button up shirt. Regardless of the heavy covers, she didn't want to get cold.
She slipped into her bed, careful not to wake Zion up, and stretched her toes out. They brushed something hot and she jumped, then smiled. Someone had placed a warming pan at the foot of her bed while she was downstairs, and her bed was wonderfully warm.
She stretched out once more, then snuggled into the bed, one hand over Zion. Then stretched out like this, she fell asleep.
Cold.
Darkness.
That was all Sabra could feel as she sat up from what she thought was her soft Hogwarts bed. Looking around, all she could see was greyness and swirls of white as the wind whipped her frosted breath around.
She shivered, and hugged herself, wondering what was happening. All she could tell about her surroundings was that she was outside, and far from any civilization. As she hugged herself, Sabra realized that her hands didn't have as far to go; her chest was suspiciously flat. She looked down and blanched; she had the body of a child! Maybe three years old!
Sabra opened her mouth to gasp, than pulled it in when she thought deeper. This was her three-year-old self; before she had been adopted and before her childhood memories started. Maybe she could find something out…
She sat down on the cold ground, attempting to land on the sparse grass, but there was not nearly enough to make it any softer. Her clothes weren't much help either; all she was wearing was a pair of coveralls and a little pink jacket. Had the situation not been so grave, she would have laughed at the ridiculousness of the childish outfit.
She settled herself down for a long wait, and was surprised when two amorphous figures appeared on the horizon after only a few minutes of sitting. They got closer very slowly, so it took Sabra only a moment to realize that they weren't shapeless--as she had first thought--but wearing large black cloaks. The little light there was glinted off their faces, revealing that the silver was a mask and not some creature's true face.
She wondered briefly why they were walking so slowly, but quickly saw the burdens they dragged behind them on the cold ground. Large lumps that look suspiciously like--
Bodies.
Sabra stopped wanting to meet the two cloaked figures when she realized that they dragged bodies behind them!
But they wanted to meet her. At about fifty feet from where Sabra sat, for some reason unable to move, they huddled together for a moment. When they broke apart, there was a moment of stillness, then both cloaked figures dropped the bodies to the ground and took off at a dead run towards Sabra.
Bright silver knives shone in their hands, which they raised as they quickly got closer. Sabra ordered her body to move, but it seemed frozen in place. Breathing faster, she struggled with her heavy limbs, as the two figures got closer and closer.
Both came right up to her, and Sabra could see the glint in their eyes through the holes in the silver masks. She held her breath as both knives came towards her; pointing at her small three year-old chest, they came right up and drove the knives in, right below her neck. She screamed and blacked out; wicked laughter being the last thing she could remember.
"No!" Sabra sat up with the word on her lips. She gasped and clutched at her chest, checking beneath her neck for anything like a knife mark, but she could find nothing but the scar she had gotten after falling off the roof. She breathed deeply for a few minutes, hand over her heart, as she tried to recall her dream, but it just slipped away into the confines of her mind. All she could remember was something about…silver masks?
Sabra shook her head, and swung her legs out of bed. She needed some air. Going to the window by Parvati's bed, she climbed up into the window-nook and pressed her nose to the glass, looking out.
The sun was barely peeking over the edge of the mountains; rays of sun only just lighting the Hogwarts' ground. The hut by the edge of the woods looked homey, with smoke trickling out of the chimney and the door half open. Then out of the door came Professor Hagrid, and she grinned. She hoped that his classes were outside.
Reminded of her want for some air, Sabra tried the window, the realized that it didn't open. She smiled wryly. Of course. Why would there be an open window in a high tower? She would just have to go outside.
Walking to the giant armoire by her bed, Sabra reached in, and was about to pull out a red blouse, when she remembered that school started today. She needed to wear her uniform.
Sabra grabbed a white button-up shirt and a grey vest and threw them on the bed, quickly following them with a long black skirt and one of her huge school robes. Then, quickly slipping out of her night-clothes, she rushed into her skirt and shoved the shirt on, buttoning it as fast as she could and tucking it into her waistband just as fast.
Now that she was dressed and decent, she took a little bit longer on the rest of her appearance. She put her arms through the vest sleeves, and carefully buttoned it, taking a moment to properly fasten a button that had slipped out of the shirt underneath.
Reaching back into the armoire, Sabra took out the brightly coloured tie that she had charmed early in the summer to change to her house colours. She personally thought that it was a bit garish, but the gold was shimmer-y, and pretty to look at, and red was, obviously, her favourite colour. So she had no reservations in knotting the cloth around her neck; only tight enough to keep the collar closed, not enough to choke.
Then, her clothing in order, Sabra grabbed her brush from the nightstand and quickly ran it through her hair, attempting to get it into some semblance of order. After trying--and failing--Sabra gave up and grabbed an elastic headband, and shoved her head through it. Once that was done, she took her wizard's hat from the bedpost and rolled it up loosely, then decided to wear it, and placed it on her head with the ties flapping.
All other aspects of her appearance done, Sabra grabbed her robe and slipped it on, carefully buttoning all buttons but the top one. Then, taking her wand from the nightstand, Sabra slipped it in her pocket, put her book in the other, and set off downstairs, only pausing to grab her side bag and throw in over her head, carefully avoiding her wizard's hat.
Once in the common room, she looked around for the door, and remembered where it was when a flash of movement brought her gaze to a round recess in the wall. Looking down, she saw that what had moved was a small black kitten. Zion, in fact.
"Shalom katul, hi cat " she whispered. He walked over to her, tail hi in the air, and demanded to be picked up. "Sorry kitty, I don't think you're allowed in classes, and that's where I'm going after this." He sat down and looked pitifully at her, but she just laughed and walked to the portrait hole.
Swinging it open, she jumped into the corridor and looked both ways, wondering where to go.
"Hello there," a friendly voice called. She gasped and whipped around, then cried out as her feet tangled in each other and she fell to the floor.
"Ouch," Sabra muttered, her nose mashed into the cold stone and her arm pinned uncomfortably under her torso. She blinked once, twice, then slowly got to her feet, and looked around for the source of the voice, massaging her sore arm and twitching her nose. She saw nothing, except for a few snoozing paintings.
"Hello," the voice repeated again, and Sabra saw that it came from the bottom of the Fat Lady's portrait. She looked closer and saw a girl seated on the floor of the painting, maybe fifteen or sixteen, wearing an elegant black dress, her black hair pinned in coils on her head. "I'm sorry if I scared you," she said. "You're the new girl."
Sabra blushed, hoping her dark skin hid it. "Word travels fast," she said, by ways of an excuse.
The girl shrugged. "Every one of us knows; there a few large paintings in the Great Hall that most of us hide in during the sorting." She laughed. "Even Dingus Kundle's never seen anyone fall off the sorting stool!"
Sabra hid her embarrassment by asking "Who is Dingus Kundle?"
"He was the first headmaster after Helga Hufflepuff died. She lived the longest of all of the founding four, and then she appointed Dingus." The girl looked away for a moment, and reached up to fix one of the elegant coils of black hair on his head.
Sabra took this as a dismissal, and turned to go back down the hall, then stopped. She still hadn't decided which way to go, and both corridors seemed to stretch on indeterminably. Remembering that she had come to the portrait by ways of a marble staircase, she looked around for one, but found nothing except for a landing with a staircase-shaped gap in its gate.
"Go left," the girl behind her advised. "But hurry. I think that staircase is leaving in a few minutes."
Sabra took her advice, turning left and walking quickly down the hallway. She didn't understand what the black haired girl meant about the staircase leaving, but she vaguely remembered Ginny saying something like that…
She reached the next landing and saw a sturdy flight of marble steps leading all the way down to the bottom floor. She grinned and jumped on, hurrying down with her side bag and hat ties flying behind her. Almost at the bottom, Sabra nearly decided to slide down the huge banister, but didn't when she remembered that someone could be watching. It was bad enough that she had fallen off the sorting stool, but to fall off a banister, down perhaps many floor, could be embarrassing and potentially dangerous.
She had almost reached the bottom when a loud grinding sound reached her ears. She paused, unsure of what was happening, and tumbled forward as the huge, supposedly sturdy staircase began to move beneath her feet!
She rolled down the last floor's worth of stairs, loosing her hat and smashing her head on more than a few marble stairs.
After falling down the last few stairs, Sabra came to a stop on the floor below, her head giving one last knock on the stone.
"Nnng," she moaned, raising one hand up to her head, which ached in a way that Sabra was sure was going to turn into a splitting headache, as soon as feeling returned to her skull. On its way back down, Sabra's hand felt warn wetness beneath her left eye, and realized that along with the headache and a black eye, she had a deep gash on her cheek bone.
She reached into her pocket for her wand to cast a quick healing charm, still lying on the floor, when she remembered one of McGonagall's last minute rules as they walked into the Great Hall. No magic allowed in the corridors; she was going to be stuck with this!
Sabra shoved her wand back in her pocket and clutched her head, slowly levering herself to her feet. She staggered for a moment, her head feeling as if it was splitting and only seeing out of one eye, as the other had already started to swell up.
Standing for a moment to regain her balance, Sabra saw (out of her right eye) that her hat had drifted gently to the floor at her feet. She picked it up, muttering curses under her breath, and jammed it on her head, this time tying it securely, jerking the string and almost choking herself.
She straightened her robe and bag, pulling her skirt back into place, all the while glaring at the white staircase, sitting quite peacefully in what seemed like its permanent place.
Stomping off down the corridor, Sabra heard a giggle that could have come from a black haired painting, but she couldn't really be sure.
A/N
Hello all! Thanks for the reviews! I'd list them, but I'm grounded and posting this at the school library…
But still; I love you guys for them!
Next chapter: Sabra meets Fang… Haha. Don't worry, s'not that title.
Please review. I really only have three or four, and I'm getting depressed. I mean, my other fics had a bunch of reviews, so why isn't this one getting any…? Is it that bad? Please, tell me what you think about it; even flames.
Flames will be used to warm up Sabra's dorm at night.