Well, here it is. This is my first fanfiction. Please enjoy!

A/N: Chrestomanci will make an appearance towards the end. I want to focus more on the changing of worlds and on my characters. Please be patient. ;)

Disclaimer: I don't own Diana Wayne Jones' works. I only adore them.

Please R&R I'll stop bothering to post if nobody cares. Also, rated T for violence. I can get carried away and make some action scenes very graphic.

Chapter 1

In Which There is a Birthday Surprise

I hustled down the wide, barren hallways of Swanskin Boarding School. The bell signaling the start of class rang overhead. Tardiness was not acceptable at the prestigious, all-girls school. My shoes echoed eerily through the usually bustling hallway like a bad omen. When I finally reached room 205, math with Sister Catherine, I shakily gripped the door handle. Painfully, slowly, I forced the resistant handle down, hoping to sneak in quietly into the classroom with out arousing the sister's attention - with no luck. The door jerked open, almost sending me to the floor, and a very red faced Sister Catherine stood in the doorway.

Like most teachers at Swanskin, Sister Catherine was a short, plump, aging woman with an out-of-date hairstyle and bogus glasses. Her pale face was deeply freckled with blemishes and chicken-pox scars. Also, like every other teacher, Sister Catherine did not like disruptive, tardy, manner-less, single-minded individuals, which, to Sister Catherine, I was the epitome of. Nothing could save me from her wraith.

"Take your seat Miss Jenkof, and I expect to see you after class." Her tone chilled me to the marrow. She had all sorts of things planed for me after class. I repressed a shiver and straitened my slumped position, reminding Sister Catherine that I was a full four inches taller than her. I sat on the hard, plastic chair, losing my height advantage over her, and took out my notebook, opting to scribble little bunnies all over the crisp, white sheet rather than pay attention to the lecture.

After an hour and a half of cowering away from the Sister's glare and hiding my bunny drawings, which had multiplied like, well, bunnies, over the course of the period, the bell sounded. Math was over. Slowly I gathered my belongings, shoving my stuff into the standard school-issued bag and pushed my pencil unceremoniously through my messy bun, tucking it tightly into my hair.

As the other students filed out of the slim doorway, Sister Catherine turned her attention to me. I had hoped to sneak out with the mass of uniformed girls but the snap of a ruler against one of the cream color desk stop me. The ruler slapped down between the door and me. It was the only escape short of jumping out of the second story window.

"Miss Jenkof! Where are you going?" Sister Catherine's cold eyes glared up at me, and she leaned forward, bringing her pockmarked face close to me. I used my height to shadow her. "Don't give me that attitude, Miss Jenkof!" she spat the words at me, brandishing her ruler.

"I didn't say a word, Sister Cat." I mumbled the words, but the attitude she was talking about poured out, dripping off each word. The ruler came down and I jerked my hand back. I held it close to my stomach, nursing the stinging welt that pulsed where the limber wood made contact with skin.

"Call me by my full name, Jenkof." Sister Catherine circled me like an ugly buzzard waiting for its meal to breathe its last. "Let us see." She mumbled while scratching her chin. If I didn't know better, I'd say there was a thin line of stubble where she scratched. "Your skirt is to short, the top rolled I suppose, much shorter than regulation allows." To prove her point she slapped the ruler against the skirt, showing it was barely two inches too short, but successfully making me jump. "Your shirt should be tucked in," she gave the white piece of clothing a tug, almost ripping it off my shoulders, "and your socks should be rolled up." Sister Catherine slapped my naked calf with the ruler's edge, leaving a painful mark. I held back a yelp and stood my ground. "Hair's unkempt," she ripped the tie that held it up, taking chunks of my brunette locks and my pencil with it. "And those shoes."

Yes, my shoes were always a sore spot for the school's administration. They were lime green, clashing nicely with the regulation gray skirt and white top. The school's issued clogs were tacky brown leather, and I refused to wear them. So, on more than one occasion, staff members snuck into the dorm rooms, attempting to take the horrendous, shining beacon of self-expression that my shoes represented, but I kept them well hidden, snug under my pillow when I wasn't wearing them along with my favorite book on famous pirates that, if found, would be taking with the same speed my shoes would disappear with.

" I think a trip to the Headmaster's office is in order." For such a small woman, Sister Catherine had powerful arms and wasn't afraid to give me that full extent of that strength when she grabbed my arm and led me to Headmaster's office on the other side of the building. Our footsteps echoed hauntingly.

A strange clicking noise followed us, out of beat with our steps. It seemed to drift from the shadows and float across the empty halls, but maybe I was just nervous. I was tempted to ask Sister Catherine if she had heard the noise when it suddenly became increasingly louder, but I held my tongue, not willing to talk to the monstrous Sister if I could avoid it, so we walked in silence with only the erratic clacking to break it.

The Headmaster's door was truly beautiful, a polished deep mahogany with matching handles, intricate designs across both enormous fronts. I could trace that patterns with my eyes all day, but unfortunately the Headmaster was ready to see us.

Sister Catherine led me inside before taking her leave, mumbling about having tests to grade. I stared at the sleek, black backing of the Headmaster's chair and sat in the seat in front of the mahogany desk. The nameplate on the desk simply read "Headmaster".

Slowly the high back chair swiveled in an eerie, movie-like way, reveling a small woman curled in the center, legs crossed. The gray hair that decorated her head was strapped back into a tight bun, pulling her eyes wide, and the black wired glasses sat primly on the tip of her nose. She was bony, made up of all sharp angles, from her large pointed forehead to the dagger-like points on her conservative brown high heels.

"Miss Jenkof," she said my name like it was poison. "I have heard many complaints about you from various teachers, and even some students."

"They just don't like independence," I mumbled under my breath while watching the Headmaster's eyes travel down to my green shoes.

"Is that so?" I jerked back as if she had hit me. She had heard me. "Now, give me your shoes."

"No." The word passed as naturally through my lips as air. The Headmaster heaved a great, theatrical sigh and gave me a mock pout.

"Jenkof, do you understand that the only reason I haven't disposed of you yet is because your parents are large contributors to this school's funding? Now, are you going to give me your shoes?" When shook my head 'no' the Headmaster called out, "Bert, came here, I have a disobedient student for you."

A large man, tall and muscular rather than the short-and-fat body code the teachers followed, rumbled into the office. Suddenly the room didn't look quite as big and elegant. The man, Bert, held in his hand a long, wide stick with holes evenly distributed across its length, complete with the school's emblem burned into the hard wood. I sucked in a breath and whimpered, my knees becoming weak even before the beatings commenced.

The stick came down and I curled, squatting on the floor. It hit my back and I crumpled the rest of the way, kneeling on the hard wood floor as the bulging muscles in the man above me worked. The stick rained down furiously and I found myself screaming, tears streaming out of my eyes in pain. Fire spread up my back in prickling sensations as I tried to push myself to my knees again during a break in the beatings, but a booted foot stamped down my efforts, grinding into my raw back. Through the pain the Headmaster's voice somehow wormed itself into my brain as she said, "This is a warning. Remember this experience and we shall not have anymore problems."

While Bert had me pinned he reached down and ripped my shoes off, throwing them at the Headmaster's feet like an offering. Then he kicked me over, put the full force of his muscles into the stick, and began to beat my stomach and thighs, soon moving to my face as I tried desperately to cover it with my arms and crawl away. I couldn't remember when I blacked out.

I woke up to soft chatter circling my head in dizzy waves. The girls of dormitory number 57 hushed each other when I moaned loudly in pain. All of the bruises and pains that had disappeared when I lost consciousness flooded back with my senses. I opened one eye, the other being decidedly swollen shut, and looked at the ring of girls around my bed. I went to say something and found my mouth glued shut. Tentatively, I probed the inside of my lips with my tongue and tasted a crusted layer of coppery blood. When I finally could open my mouth, all that would come out was a croaking, raged breath. However, the girls surrounding my bed understood and began to explain how I had come to be in this condition, after gently lifting my head and giving me a drink of water.

Joyce, closest to my head, began to explain. "Two strange men drug you hear unconscious, but they wouldn't tell us anything. They dropped you on the bed and left, telling us not to get medical help, saying the same thing would happen to us if we did. What did they do to you?" Several nods came from the crowd around me, each one forming their own version of the story already.

I tried to sit up and hands from all angles reached out to help. In no time I was leaning against the headboard of my bed trying to catch my breath. When I could, I gave them a brief version of the torturous time in the Headmaster's office. The girls, though anxious for the whole story, didn't push for more and left me to sleep. Every inch of me was in pain, but I slept deeply despite it.

I didn't get out of bed the next day, or the day after that. The weekend came and went, and finally I felt strong enough to work my aching body out of bed. That Monday I went to my classes, only to be hassled by my teachers as to why I had missed the last two days of class, though just by looking at me, all of them knew exactly what happened. They mocked me during class, telling me I was nothing without my green shoes, jeering at the brown clogs that covered my aching feet. Soon my pride was as battered as my body. The mocking went on for sometime, but I learned to ignore it like the distant pain in my back.

One evening, not long following the beating, after all the girls had eaten dinner and left to their separate dormitories, several girls gathered in dorm number 57 for a surprise. I had after dinner duties with Sister Catherine, cleaning her classroom, because I had given a wrong answer in class. Wrong answers were not permitted in Swanskin, especially from Gwenevieve Jenkof. Sister Catherine had given me several petty, long jobs, just to keep me working for several hours, but when I finally was let go I happily, albeit stiffly and sorely, went back to dorm number 57.

It must have been later than I thought; all of the dormitories lights were off and a silence was settled over the room. I shut the door quietly and shuffled a few steps into the room before the lights flicked on. I jerked back and painfully hit the door behind me as I looked at almost every girl from the first floor of the dormitories. A collective yell of "surprise" and "happy birthday" came from them as they came out of every hiding place imaginable in the cramped room. I had forgotten my own birthday.

The girls gathered around me whispering excitedly about how they had pulled off sneaking presents in and making a cake, and all the work that was needed to keep it a secret from the staff, though several of the girls named staff members who had been willing to help, mainly made up of the cooks and janitors. Then, in a flurry of school uniforms and excited girls, I was whisked away to a small table that had two wrapped boxes and a small chocolate cake complete with two candles. The girls shuffled uncomfortably and apologized for the amount of presents and cake all their trouble was worth. Joyce stood beside me and quietly said, "we wanted to get you more, since we don't have many chances to throw parties for anyone here, but it was the best we could do with the Headmaster watching our every move. Here," she held out two notebook-paper wrapped boxes out to me, "open your presents first, then make a wish."

I took the larger box hesitantly, watching Joyce for any hint as to what surprise might be hiding behind the simple wrapping. I dug my fingernails into the paper and ripped. It fell away easily, revealing the school's logo printed on a simple, brown shoebox. I opened it, not sure what to expect. I gasped as a wonderful sight met my eyes. I turned the box over, dumping my green shoes out into my hands. I slipped them on, happily kicking off the ugly clogs. They felt wonderfully pleasant on my feet.

"Thanks, everyone." I felt hot tears swell behind my eyelids, but I refused to let them fall. No one had ever given me a surprise party, not even my family, and no one had risked being suspended from school to give me a pair of old, green shoes. The second box was shoved into my hands. I tore the paper and slipped the small piece of cloth into my hand. It was thick and warm, plush and soft. I cracked a grin and slipped the wristband on. It had a skull and cross bones on it, my very own Jolly Roger pirate flag. All of the girls knew of my pirate obsession. I hugged Joyce, and, with calls of "make a wish" coming from the girls surrounding me, I turned back to the cake.

While I had my back turned, someone had lit the two candles and shut the lights off, creating an eerie, golden glow that cast dark shadows across the wall. I drew in a deep breath and stared at the small glowing flames on the candles. They looked almost like eyes, staring back at me in a yellow-red light.

I wish I could leave this awful school, and have my own life, not one ruled by headmasters and school staff. I repeated this line over and over, willing it with all my being. It seemed like a silly wish, but one I wanted very much. I let my breath go, sending warm air down to crush the flames on the candles. It never reached them. The little flame eyes winked at me as I let the breath go, and the dark shadows swarmed from the corners and the deep places in dormitory number 57, collecting between the two candles.

Something happened then that, if you asked any of the girls who witnessed it, you would get several very different answers. The only similarity in their stories was that the birthday cake, which they had so painstakingly made, exploded, pulling Gwenevieve Jenkof down into a pit of darkness.

What did you think? Remember, PLEASE R&R! I cannot stress this enough, it means a lot to me.

P.S. I updated this first page because it looked bad. I know when I'm reading fics that if the first chapter looks bad, I won't read more. Plus, I feel more professional if it looks nice and uniform! Thanks for your time, blackfuzzdevil.