Chapter 2

When I woke up, it was to the sun streaming into the room I was currently in, nestled into the covers of the bed as I was. It took some time to force my tired eyes open, feeling like I hadn't slept in days, yet still just waking up from a dream.

It took even more time before my mind caught up with the recent events and when I finally did, several minutes later, I was staring blankly in front of me, not a hint of emotion appearing on my face. Questions like how, why and what made their way in my mind. It was too overwhelming, like thinking about the reason for our living, or our universal place in the galaxy and beyond. I just simply couldn't wrap my head around it all, and though appearing... at least some resemblance to calm on the outside, I felt myself freaking out on the inside. Which was completely understandable, considering my predicament.

I mean, considering the heavy amount of evidence laid before me, I could almost guess that I was somewhere in the Harry Potter universe. Which was not an easy thing to admit, considering the sheer impossibility of it all. Besides, I was a little reluctant to believe what was happening.

It wasn't like there was a manual to follow for situations like this. That would've been a little too helpful, right? I groaned and placed my hands over my eyes, trying to think as I struggled with gathering any coherent thoughts.

As it was right now, I had no information. I didn't even know if this was J.K Rowlings manufactured world. For all I knew, maybe I was just in another body and it just so happened that I found an orphanage housing a boy named Tom Riddle in what looked to be the era of his story.

Yes, that was probably it; I had been randomly transferred back in time and all of this was just a mere coincidence!

Or, this was just a dream and I was in a coma. Though, that made even less sense to me, taking into account I was not a Harry Potter fan and knew next to nothing about all of this. No way even my subconscious would be able to dream this up.

Personally, I thought the idea of all of this being a coincidence way more probable…

Thinking about it that way, even my most plausible theory did not make much sense or smarts.

A sudden noise startled me out of my thoughts and I snapped my head up to stare at the door opening.

The woman - the one who had received me, Martha - carefully poked her head inside and at seeing me, she fully opened the door to step inside. I caught sight of a plate in her hands as she closed the door.

She smiled at me, but still having my thoughts in a disarray, I couldn't bother to smile back.

"I'm happy you're up," she said as she placed the plate I could now see carried a small portion of breakfast on the little table beside the bed I was occupying. The food looked meager, but still, I found my stomach growling with hunger at the sight of it. "Do help yourself," Martha said and gestured for me to start eating. I gladly obliged.

She pulled out a chair and sat, all the while silently observing me. The stare, although kind and somewhat pitying, made me uncomfortable and after having eaten a sufficient amount to at least still the hunger some, I put the plate down and met her gaze with an inquiring face.

Sensing my unasked question, she smiled carefully before she began talking, "Emma, was it?"

I nodded.

"How are you feeling?" She asked.

I shrugged, "I feel okay. A little tired."

Martha nodded understandably as she gave me a sympathetic smile. "I understand. As you know, I'm Martha and this is Wool's Orphanage."

She paused as if waiting for my reaction. I gave none, only nodding with her words.

She continued, "As of yet, we haven't been able to find anyone looking for you and until we get everything sorted out, you will be staying here. You're in good hands. Mrs. Cole, the matron, is the most capable person I know. She will take good care of you, as will I."

Somewhere in the back of my mind, it registered that "capable" did not translate to "kind". I kept quiet and she smiled. "You have nothing to worry about, dear."

Finally, I gave a little minuscule smile in her direction and I could see my response, however small it was, calmed her. Taking a deep breath and exhaling after a short pause, her smile renewed to be even brighter.

I could feel Tom's interest in me as he observed me, even as I tried my very hardest to stay out of his path. I avoided him at every possible occasion, never really wishing to be in the same room as him and definitely not alone. Still, his gaze shifted to me. Inquiring. Curious. Wary.

And I definitely did not want to catch any more of his already growing attention. It was my fault for passing out in such a dramatic way and now it seemed I was paying for my earlier foolish actions.

However, when I wasn't tirelessly dedicating my time to steer clear of Riddle, I was simply trying to fit in. Which was easier said than done.

Not only were these children at least a third my mental age, but they were also children from a whole other age and era. I didn't know about the customs of the thirties and I had no idea of how to act.

In the beginning, I merely did my best to stay unnoticeable and quiet, which fortunately seemed to work. At first, the other kids were curious about me, but as normal kids do, they quickly lost interest.

The matrons were harder to get off my tail. They continued asking questions to which I had no answer, but even as they were concerned, it appeared my behavior did not worry them. I figured they had probably had to deal with similar kids who refused to speak about their background, especially after I learned about the Great Depression which had, quite frankly, devastating effects on the state and was still ongoing.

Despite the economic disaster, it seemed that even though run-down, the orphanage was clean and the residents cared for. It was some consolation that I had a roof over my head and food that kept me satisfied, even in my current situation.

And even when I clearly didn't fit in among the other kids with ages ranging from infants to seventeen-year-olds, I did my best to integrate myself with the others.

The orphanage housed a wide area of varied kinds of kids. Some were reclusive like me and others were outgoing and carefree. Those kids were often on the younger side, not remembering the early years of coming here. They laughed and smiled, a great contrast to the gloomy teenagers reminiscing their days of family now lost.

While I wasn't gloomy, I wasn't exactly carefree either. My mind was plagued by troubles and I will admit to never have been the smartest kid, not even in my… life before this. I still didn't know what to make of everything and it felt like I was still as lost as when I first came here.

So the first weeks of being here were spent silent and observing, trying to figure everything out. I had to establish if this actually was the Harry Potter universe and not something else. Right now, no theories were too impossible, as I felt I had crossed over that line some time ago.

In order to find out whether this was a fantasy world or not with what pitifully little information I had, the first step was obviously gathering more intelligence. And that was not only done observing, but, tragically enough, through participating.

Yeah, being thrust into a new dimension or whatever was not a fun thing, especially when everything that happened felt like it was only occuring for the mere sake of being inconvenient to me.

Like when I got my first friend.

If you can now call following me around persistently like a lost, but enthusiastic puppy being a "friend". Her name was Maria, and I had no idea of what to do with her.

At the age of six and a half, she was cheerful, eager to please and temperamental - just like any other child. Meaning I really didn't like her.

My efforts at keeping out of trouble and staying silent were squashed as she kept bumping into me with invitations to play or hang out. It wasn't that she was a bad kid, but she was an annoying one.

It was just that the idea of playing hide and seek with a kid not even seven did not sound very tempting to me, even if I may too look to be around that age.

Actually, I didn't know how old I was - or, correction, how old this body was - but after my initial guess at seven years old, I just kind of went with that. It wasn't like anybody could look it up to check if I was wrong. And really, what did it matter if I was a year or two younger or older?

With no background information, my past in this world was what I made it to be and I made it something inconspicuous. So besides my age, all my other personal information was made up by me and the adults would simply have to take my not so trustful words for it. I matched my story with all the others and so I was just one of many kids with the same history. I was, for all intents and purposes, just another regular orphan. Nothing special.

But Maria really didn't seem to get the gist.

I could see it in the way she looked at me; how she thought I was something curious, like an exciting adventure. That, coupled with her overly positive way of being, boded no good for me.

I wanted no attention, but Maria was someone who always brought it to her.

At first, I tried to avoid her too, like I did with Tom, but inlike Tom, Maria didn't care for obscurity and went right up to me when she wanted something. It was counterproductive and I knew I had to quickly do something before I, as a result, gained even more publicity.

At first, it seemed hopeless: everything I did and said only caused the reverence in her eyes when she looked at me to grow. I was simply at loss of how to handle her.

Then the epiphany struck me like lightning did metal towers: if she found me that interesting, then I would just have to redirect her attention elsewhere. And who better as a candidate than our one and only Tom Riddle!

Just joking. As if I would ever send someone into the clutches of that boy, no matter how annoying I thought they were. I wasn't evil, unlike another satanic boy.

No, but seriously, redirecting Maria so that she lost interest in me was probably my best shot at remaining inconspicuous. And soon, the perfect victim arose to volunteer.

Because like Maria was my first "friend", Eric Whalley was my first enemy.