Author's Note: That last chapter was mostly an introduction to Ella Smith's world, not really supposed to get the plot moving. Ella's mine, as well as her friends, but the rest, well, JK Rowling thought of 'em first.
CHAPTER 2
Ella Smith
Literature: Social Circles
Family
I was adopted into the Smith family when I was seven years old. I have little memories of my life before that.
I sat at the desk in my room, staring at the paper before me. I hadn't a clue what to do about Burbage's assignment. I was supposed to write a brief paragraph before describing the members of that particular category. The Smiths were my family, I knew that, adopted or not. But at times I felt left out. Thinking of Miranda's remark from earlier, I wrote ferociously:
Though I am adopted, the Smiths are my family. Molly Smith, is my mother, the only mother I have ever known. The same is for Dad and Sophie, Charlie, and Colin (as the only father, sister, and brothers I have ever known).
Then I remembered someone else. I did have one connection to my biological family: an older brother that was not a Smith. I decided I probably should include that. But I felt as if it would ruin what I had written.
John "Jack" Smith: My adopted father. He works as a newspaper reporter. He has brown hair and brown eyes. He also can smooth over any chaos at home and loves to read newspaper stories aloud, especially the ones he wrote.
Molly Smith: My adopted mother. She is a stay-at-home mum. She has brown hair and blue eyes. She manages to keep all of us in line and the house spotless at the same time.
Sophia "Sophie" Smith: My older adopted sister. She is twenty years old and currently living at home. She has long brown hair and blue eyes. I envy her because she always manages to look drop-dead gorgeous.
Charles "Charlie" Smith: My (slightly) older adopted brother. He is seventeen and has blond-brown hair and brown eyes. We are often considered 'twins' because of our ages. Mrs. Burbage, you know my brother.
Colin Smith: My younger adopted brother. He is ten years old and has blond-brown hair and brown eyes. He is very cute and tiresome at the same time.
Ella Smith: Me. I am seventeen and have red hair and blue eyes. I am a senior at Stonewall High, I like playing field hockey (I am a goalie) and hanging out with my friends. I'm a bit of a klutz. I tend to make things explode without any reason. And I'm sure that's all there is to me.
I sat back and looked at what I had written so far. I crossed out all the 'adopted.' I hated that word. I didn't like what I wrote about myself but that's about all I would reveal to Bird-Brain Burbage. I also crossed out the exploding part—it didn't work with the following sentence—and I'd rather Burbage didn't know that.
Emily Knobbins: My aunt. She is my mother's younger sister. She lives just around the corner. She was married and is now divorced. She always has time for me.
It sounded corny, I suppose, the "always has time for me," but it was true. She always talked to me when I needed help and treated me as her niece or even as a daughter. I had caught her more than once watching me with an odd expression on her face.
Joshua 'Josh' Knobbins: My cousin. He is seven years old and has brown hair and brown eyes. He is very mischievous and get into all sorts of trouble. He is also very gullible.
Ethan Knobbins: My cousin. He is nine years old and has brown hair and brown eyes. He is mischievous like his brother, and likes to trick Josh.
I smiled, knowing that the word 'mischievous' hardly did Josh and Ethan justice. Well, that finished my family, I thought, hurriedly pushing my other brother from my mind. Now, for my friends.
Friends
My friends at Stonewall are absolutely brilliant. We always have a good time together. I don't think I could've survived my school years without them.
Kathleen Hullord: She has brown hair and blue eyes. She is very much into theatre. I met her when we were in grammar school. We didn't get along at first but now we are best mates. Being in the same mathematics class with a rather unimpressive teacher and rowdy class does that.
Justin Callaghan: Justin has blond hair and brown eyes. He is very into sports—or he likes to pretend to be, though he only plays hockey. He is quite a skeptic when it comes to theatre, though I know he has gone to every show his girlfriend has performed in.
Lara Jones: Lara is probably the only other person, besides Sophie, who can do anything about my hair—her almost-black hair is always perfect. She probably is the prettiest of all my friends, which is hard because all my friends are fabulous. She has green eyes. She is very outgoing and friendly…and smart—really smart.
Alison Walpole: I met Allie through field hockey. We've been playing on the same team since we were nine. She has blonde hair and green eyes.
Brant Walpole: Allie's twin brother, he is blonde and green-eyed also. He and I didn't get along very well at first, but now we're pretty close. He plays cricket, too.
Ellen Walpole: Ellie is Allie's younger sister—she, like her siblings, has blonde hair and green eyes. She also is into cricket. She is very outgoing and funny—sometimes I think she is trying to distinguish herself from her siblings.
Rupert Garside: He is pretty much my closest guy friend. He's got red hair like myself. There's a joke about us being long-lost siblings. He is funny and crazy but can be shy.
Susan Watson: Probably the most forward person you may ever meet is Susan Watson. She has blonde hair and hazel eyes and can grab anyone's attention. Everyone's jealous of her. She's very fashionable.
Nick Holmes: Nick is one of the crazy guys who scare people quite easily. He's got brown hair, brown eyes. He and Suze have been best friends since forever.
Connor Lloyd: Connor is really athletic—he plays so many sports I can never keep track. He has blondish hair and brown eyes. He and Susan are going out.
That was the rough outline of the crowd I hung out with. They were all so amazing and close to me; they were like my sisters and brothers.
Thinking of brothers, I added one more person to my list of family members.
Fred X: Fred is my older biological brother—he took the time to seek me out when I was eleven. We hang out every other Saturday. He has red hair and freckles and brown eyes. He is very funny and entertaining. He wants to open up a magical joke shop. I don't know his last name—my last name, because we decided it was best that way. Because of this I call him Fred X as a bit of a joke. He is two years older than me.
I couldn't add much more about Fred because, well, I didn't know that much about him. However, I connected with him the moment he introduced himself when I was eleven. He was the perfect brother, except for his numerous practical jokes. I could tell him anything. But he wouldn't tell me my mother's or father's names, or my siblings—I didn't even know if I had any—though he dropped hints that we did. He was so mysterious, but he was my brother and so natural at being a brother, we were very close. We wrote letters—he apparently didn't have a telephone or a computer. He complained that 'my' way of postal service was far too slow. I often felt like he was hiding something from me—boy, was I right.
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I looked up from my homework and realized that it was time for the soccer match. Hurriedly I ran to my closet, but—what do I wear? I thought. I was wearing jeans and a tee-shirt—not the sort of thing you wear to a game! Okay, well maybe it was, but not to a game where you would be driven home by a beautiful boy you fancied. I ransacked my closet, but could find nothing.
Hell, I thought, I might as well wear that ugly maroon sweater I got for Christmas. Thinking of the horrendous sweater, I was reminded of a blue shirt I liked that I had shoved under the sweater a month ago. Eagerly, I pulled open my bottom drawer and rummaged. I pulled the out the sweater and, sure enough, underneath it was the blue shirt. I grabbed it and broke out into a major victory dance. But, just as I collapsed on my bed, I noticed a spider, a giant spider, crawling from my shirt towards my arm.
Okay, it wasn't giant. It was an average-sized spider. But anything that is creepy-crawly with eight legs and makes webs terrifies me.
For a second, I was paralyzed, but then I dropped the shirt and jumped onto my bed, screaming.
Sophie breezed into my room. First, she saw me standing on my bed yelling. Then she saw the pile of clothes all over.
She raised an eyebrow.
"SPIDER!" I yelled.
"I figured as much," she rolled her eyes. "Where?"
I pointed at my shirt. She laughed a little bit under her breath. Everyone knew I was terrified of spiders. Finding me in this sort of predicament was nothing out of the norm for members of the Smith family. Grabbing a tissue, she killed the nasty creature and dumped it in the trash can. Then she turned and looked at me.
"What are you doing?—before the spider incident."
"Getting dressed," I blushed.
"Going somewhere?" she asked.
"Charlie's game," I told her.
"And you're destroying your closet…for soccer?"
I blushed harder, the tips of my ears turning crimson. "Jeff Conroy is driving me home."
Sophie's eyes widened. "Jeff Conroy—John Conroy's little brother? Well done, little sis. That is a reason to panic. Here…" She pulled out a pair of jeans, grabbed a white Stonewall High tee-shirt and lent me a gray sweatshirt with different colors all over it. I had no other shoes other than my much drawn-on, decorated, tennis shoes. Sophie then continued with makeup, until the zit on my chin was completely gone and my blue eyes were popping out—yet it looked like I was wearing no makeup. Such was the magic of Sophie. She smiled at me and ordered me to shoo. I raced downstairs and found Justin pulling up.
"Hey, are you sure this is the right person—it doesn't look like the Ella Smith I know!" hollered Kathleen out the window. I grinned and climbed in the backseat.
"I agree," said Nick, pretending to study me closer. "She had a huge blemish on her chin earlier…and she's much too cute-looking to be Elle." I punched him in the stomach.
"That's the power of makeup, Nicholas," I told him.
"It's Ella, alright, Kath. No other girl would punch my handsome self in the stomach."
I laughed and punched him in the arm.
"Alright, alright! I surrender! You look absolutely smashing, darling. As always."
"That's more like it," I told him.
We passed the Walpoles' house and saw Rupert picking up Ellen for their anniversary.
Rupert had a crush on Ellie since the moment they met, forever ago and they started going steady five months ago. They were so adorable together.
As Rupert leaned over to kiss Ellie's cheek, Justin blew the horn and Nick blew kisses in their direction. Rupert turned bright red, but Ellie laughed and kissed him full on the mouth. Nick wolf-whistled and Ellie gave him thumbs' up.
We laughed and continued on our way to pick up Lara.
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Once at the game, we had to crane our necks to find Susan and Connor. Finally Nick spotted them—or rather Susan's pink shirt.
We ran up the bleachers and found a whole bench had been saved for us. I plopped down next to Susan and grinned at her.
"So, Suzy, 'fess up—you and Connor were snogging up a storm," demanded Nick as he sat down, trying to squish between me and Susan. In her shoes, I'd have turned a brilliant shade of crimson, but Susan merely laughed and tossed her head.
"Whatever you want to think, Nick Holmes."
Susan and Nick have known each other forever. They grew up next door to each other—and they love to tease each other about the stupid things they did. They also were each other's first kiss, and they were going pretty steady up until last year. I don't think Nick really got over it, but they're still pretty close, the same Watson and Holmes as always.
As Nick and Susan started arguing about snogging and pink shirts, I turned my attention to the field. The players were warming up. Charlie was over in the goal, blocking kicks from the coach. I craned, trying to find Jeff, but I couldn't see him. My heart sank a little. But then I found him. He had been behind Ben, a huge kid who played defense because players ran into him and fell down.
Feeling relieved, I turned back to my friends. Nick and Susan were still arguing—Connor was talking sports with Justin and Brant. They were arguing about Manchester United or something. Lara, who had slid next to me, grinned.
"Who comes to games to talk about sports?"
I agreed.
"I go to watch the players," she winked at me. She nodded towards the field. The players were shaking hands—the start of the game.
There was number two, Jeffrey Conroy. He looked lovely in our school colors. My heart thumped.
I stuck my tongue out at her. She laughed and grinned broadly at me.
"How ever are you getting home from the game? I mean, it's not like you have a brother on the team, nor all your chums in attendance."
I blushed to the roots of my hair. "Who told you?"
"A little birdie."
"Named?"
"Wouldn't you like to know!"
"Yes, I would, actually."
"One of the girls who sits behind you in Lit…Andrea? She came up after class Friday and demanded if it were true that Jeff had asked to drive you home from the soccer game. I told her that you hadn't said anything and she told me that she had been walking behind you two and heard everything. Why didn't you tell anyone?"
I made a face. "I didn't want to jinx it, y'know? And…" I lowered my head closer to Lara's. "I didn't want to hurt Allie's feelings. I know she fancies him as much as I do."
"You're silly, Ella. Allie understands. Didn't you two make that pact?"
"Yeah…"
"Then don't be silly!"
"Okay. Hey, Lara, guess what? Jeff Conroy's driving me home from today's match."
"That's more like it."
She hugged me and we turned and watched as the first whistle sounded.
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The first few minutes were exciting—I guess. I don't really follow soccer, even if my brother's on the team, but I tried. Soccer's not my sport, field hockey is. I mostly just watched Jeff for the first half. But even as fun as that was, my friends were way too distracting. Brant and Justin were throwing Nick's shoe around, while Nick chased them all over. We got Connor to buy us hot dogs and candy and chips and fountain drinks from the vendors—Susan guilted him into it. Kathleen and Susan began talking about writing a show for their club, while Susan painted Lara's nails (Susan always has nail polish with her). Allie and I discussed and analyzed and gossiped about our field hockey team.
The soccer game ended with Stonewall defeating the other team 6-0. Our game ended with Nick substituting my shoe for his. Since I didn't mind, the boys entertained themselves by throwing it around. However, as soon as the game was over, they were all gone.
Lara's mother actually picked her up half an hour before the game was over. Justin drove Kathleen home and Susan and Connor wandered off somewhere holding hands. Allie and Brant's mother wanted them to pick up some groceries and Nick saw some girl he knew and went to go bother her. So I was left alone to make my way down the stands to find Charlie and Jeff.
You'd have thought they knew to clear out.
I found Charlie outside the locker room. He and Miranda were snogging. Gag me. I just kind of gave him a little wave and walked away. I wasn't waiting for Jeff there. That made me realize that I was waiting around for Jeff—did that seem weird? Was that a little odd? Something told me it wasn't cool.
But there was no choice—he promised to drive me home. Unless he made other plans, with some other girl.
I was sitting on the bleachers, waiting for Jeff when I realized that there was someone behind me. I turned around and saw Piers Polkiess and Malcolm something-or-other.
Bloody hell, I thought.
"Hey there, Ella." I rolled my eyes as Piers sat down next to me. Piers lived near me and had made himself a holy terror. Him and the rest of Dudley Dursley's gang. They went around beating up grammar school kids these days. I couldn't stand them in grammar school; thank God he went to Smeltings with Dudley. I don't think I could stand it if he went to Stonewall. All I could ever think of was how he and Dudley beat up Dudley's cousin, a poor kid who lost his parents in a car accident when he was a baby.
Piers apparently expected a response.
"Geez, Ella…gonna answer me? It's polite to answer someone—"
"Hullo, Polkiess."
"Aw, c'mon, Ella. We're neighbors, friends even. We're on a first name basis."
I got up. I wasn't going to take any crap from this kid. But he pulled me down before I could get away.
"Ella, don't be like that. I just wanted to talk. We haven't talked in a long time."
"Yeah. Okay, look—I got to—"
"I could give you a ride home if you want. Show you my new car. Pops just bought it for me, since my last one was totaled."
If this was trying to impress me, it was working against him.
"Look, I have a ride. But thanks."
This time I got up and got off the bleachers. I didn't care how desperate or uncool I looked to Jeff; I wasn't hanging round to be bothered by the thugs. Actually I was so bent on getting away from Piers, I ran into Jeff.
"Whoa. Hey, Ella."
"Oh...Err…hey Jeff."
"Where you going so fast? You still need a ride?" He tensed for a second.
"Yeah, actually I do still need one. You mind?"
"Not at all," he smiled.
I grinned back and he led the way through the crowd towards the parking lot. He must have noticed me looking over my shoulder because he asked me why. I shrugged and opened my mouth to tell him about Piers, but decided not to say anything. He seemed to notice and raised one eyebrow. I just shook my head.
"So, what did you think of the game?"
I blushed. "Well, what I saw of it, you were brilliant."
"Thanks. Charlie was great, too."
I rolled my eyes. "He's Charlie, isn't he? He better be good or he'll lose his team position, and maybe even his girlfriend."
"Miranda?"
"Yeah. Her."
"You don't get along with Miranda?"
"We don't not get along."
My problem with Miranda Cavendish is that she brings up with fact that I'm adopted every single time I'm there. I'm really touchy about the whole adopted thing. I mean, it's who I am and everything, but still…that's not something that needs to be brought up. And it's like she's trying to drive a wedge between Charlie and I. It's just not something I'm really comfortable talking about it, not in front of Miranda and especially not in front of Jeff.
"Oy! Smith, running away from us?"
I didn't stop walking, but Jeff did. He turned around and faced the little snot-nosed kid. I sighed and turned around too.
"Going to introduce us to your boyfriend, Smith?"
I blushed.
Oh great, now it had to be awkward.
"Err—he's not my—"
Jeff cut me off. "Jeff Conroy. Who are you?"
Piers introduced himself and his friend. Next to Jeff, who was tall and obviously took full advantage of the fitness centre in the basement of Stonewall, Piers was just a short, little skinny kid and Malcolm, well, Malcolm needed a diet badly. They didn't stand a chance, unless of course, 'Big D' and the rest of his gang showed up.
"You know these guys, Elle?"
"Know us—know us! Elle and I, we used to be real good mates back in the day. She always had the hots for me. Always tagging after me and the rest of the gang. "
Red-hot anger flowed through me. How dare he! My anger must have showed on my face because Piers stopped talking and removed his hand from my shoulder, where he had placed it. However, it was just to take off his sunglasses that had been perched on the end of his nose (trying to look cool)—the lenses of which were now quite cracked. He stared at the glasses for a moment.
Bloody hell. I had done it again. Snapped, lost my temper and something else broke. Would he notice?
Piers shook his head. "Must've broken them during that last fight, eh Malcolm? Stupid little grammar school boy jumped me. I taught him a lesson all right."
I glowered. How could anyone think that picking on little kids was fun? I looked at Jeff. He was frowning.
"Aw, chill, Ella. I'm just teasing. We're friends, right, and friends can tease each other. I tease you. You tease me. Lots of teasing involved."
From the way he said it and the way he wagged his eyebrows at me, I knew his version of 'teasing' had nothing to do with joking around with one's chums.
"Shut the hell up."
Piers ignored me completely and turned to Jeff, who looked like he was struggling a bit with his temper. Or laughter. I never could read guys, but he did look more angry than amused.
I hoped.
"You been teased by Elle here, Conroy?" My mouth fell open. The nerve—the balls!—of him to say something that insinuating in front of me! And to Jeff! My ears went violent crimson. "She's quite a tease."
I will not hit him. I will not hit him. I will not hit him.
Jeff tried to change the subject, talking of cars or sports or something. I wasn't paying attention to the conversation at all. I had a quick temper—stereotypical ginger, I know. I had to work to control it. I made things smash when I got angry.
"—She's adopted, so it's not a problem."
My head snapped up. "Pardon?"
Piers sighed mock-patiently.
"Keep up, Ella, please," He reached over at put his hand on the back of my neck. I tried to shake him off but he just kept squeezing my neck.
"Adopted. You know, some whore of a mother didn't want her kid and so dumped them at an orphanage—"
"You prick!" I spluttered. A tsunami of anger flooded through me. More than just his bloody sunglasses were going to get broken. Maybe his damned new car might explode. He deserved it. I pushed his arm away from me and took a step towards him, arm raised. I was actually going to hit him if Jeff hadn't grabbed my arm.
"Ella."
He gave me a look as he slid his hand down my arm and laced his fingers through mine. My anger ebbed and my heart was now racing for a completely different reason. How fickle am I? I thought. Piers smirked at me. Anger flared again, but Jeff squeezed my fingers. Satisfied I wasn't going to impale Piers, Jeff turned to them himself.
"I don't know you, but I bloody well don't want to hear anymore of your stupid bull about my girl. Got it?"
He looked really intimidating when he said that, I almost believed him. Even the 'my girl' sounded real. Abruptly, Jeff turned and dragged me after him, heading towards his car. I turned around and saw Piers stare after us, then turn and push Malcolm in the opposite direction, but not before cursing us off in sign language.
I looked at Jeff and realized he wasn't speaking. I also realized I was still gripping his hand. I didn't exactly want to let go but, what if he didn't realize he still held mine?
"Err…thanks a lot…and sorry about that," I apologized lamely. I tried slightly to take my hand away, not too strongly, but he didn't let go.
"How do you know him?"
"Neighbor. He went to grammar school with me before he and Dudley went to Smeltings, thank God."
"Dursley?"
"Yeah. He's part of that gang that goes around picking on grammar school kids. I guess Harry just got too big to pick on…" I muttered.
"Harry?"
"You know, Harry Potter? The Dursleys' nephew. His parents died in a car crash when he was a baby so the Dursleys took care of him. Dudley always picked on him at school. Lots of strange things happened to him there. Poor kid."
"I remember him. Skinny, broken glasses, messy hair. Sent to that place for criminal kids, wasn't he? St. Brutus?"
"I suppose."
"Always felt bad for the guy. He was odd."
I ripped my hand out of his. "So? What's wrong with being a little different? Just cause he isn't exactly like the rest of us? Just cause he hasn't got any parents—"
Okay, I was overreacting, but it was a subject close to my own heart.
"Whoa, Smith Number Two. Calm down," Jeff had stopped walking and placed his hands on my shoulders, forcing me to face him. "I guess that's a touchy subject with you."
My ears were on fire. Jeff probably thought I was a freak. I couldn't look at him so I just nodded.
He laughed, "Oh come on, Elle. You can look at me, I understand."
I wouldn't look at him. He'd just make fun of me. I couldn't explain to him that I had been made fun of for stuff like Harry and I couldn't understand it, though my incidents were not as crazy as Harry's. He had ended up on the roof of the school kitchens—I blew up pens.
Jeff tried to pull my chin up, but I just tucked it back down. Okay, I was being ridiculous. But most girls are around a guy they fancied.
"Ella, you're an oddball. I mean, first you almost killed that kid—"
Angry, I snapped my head up at him. "Did not!"
He was grinning, laughing. "Gotcha, Smith."
I laughed, a little embarrassed. "Yeah I guess so." I rubbed the back of my neck.
"Your neck okay?"
"Yeah. No problems."
"Let me look."
"No!"
"C'mon, Elle, I'm just going to check your neck for lice. I swear, that kid probably has some."
It was really awkward, him standing behind me while I held my hair up. He was tracing his fingers up and down my neck, giving me the shivers. Then I felt his fingers pulling my shirt's collar back.
"Hey!" I spun around. "Perv!"
"Kidding!" He threw up his hands and ran away.
I chased him, a little angry, a little thrilled. I chased him to his car where we stood on either side of the hood, feinting to either side, trying to catch the other. After chasing him around the car a few times, I sat down on the hood.
"I give up."
He sat down next to me. "I never took you for a quitter, Smith."
I punched him in the arm. "I never took you for a git, Conroy."
"Conroy and Smith, the Git and the Quitter."
"More like Conroy and Smith, The Loser and the Winner. Respectively."
"More like Conroy and Smith...err…I don't know…the boy and the girl...respectively."
"That was awful."
"It was, wasn't it?"
"Bloody awful."
"Language, Smith."
We sat there for a while bantering, dare I say flirting, as it slowly got darker. It was just past sunset when he suggested we head home. However as we got in the car, a weird feeling swept through me. I was suddenly very, very, very cold. Icy fingers crawled down my back as terror and panic began building up within me. I had no idea what was going on. I glanced over at Jeff, who was rubbing his hands together.
"Odd weather we're having, eh?" he said, his teeth chattering.
"Yeah," I said, "Weird."
My voice was tight in my throat and I fought down a surge of nausea. I now was wrapped in a cold panic. Jeff seemed so far away as he turned on the car.
I tried to roll down the window, thinking I was lightheaded. I glanced out the window and immediately wished I hadn't.
I had never seen anything so horrible; or rather I hadn't seen something that horrible in a long time. Huge, robed things were swooping around, somewhat in the distance, and a strange whistling rattling sound seemed to come from them.
I pinched myself, hoping this might be a dream. It was quite like a horror film. Looking at Jeff again, I realized that he hadn't seen them.
"Jeff, do you see that?"
"See what?"
I pointed, and he looked in that direction, but all he did was squint.
"Sorry, Elle, I don't see anything. Is it that Polkiess kid again?"
I stared at him for a moment. How could he not see it? I simply shook my head and Jeff turned the car on and drove out of there—a little faster than necessary. He seemed calm, but his hands were gripping the steering wheel tightly, and a slight sweat had broken out on his forehead. Me, I was clutching the seat belt with my life. I caught sight of myself in the side mirrors—my face was pale, freckles standing out, my eyes wide. As I stared at my reflection, I saw something flash. I turned around and saw another flash and one of the things spinning away. But one thing headed towards us, flying. Again, panic began to break over me and suddenly strange images flashed before my eyes…
All sorts of horrible, embarrassing memories surfaced before my eyes, before images began to play across my mind, things I couldn't ever remember seeing before, but yet were strangely and terrifyingly familiar.
…A flash of bright green light…
…Shouts of words that seemed to be in a foreign language…or maybe Latin? …
…Dozens of stars forming a huge glittery skull with a snake threaded through its mouth…
…Long robed men standing in a circle…
These and other images flashed through me until one single, vivid moment formed in my mind and before I could stop it I was watching it as if it were my own personal horror story.
…A strange woman with long, dark, wild hair stands with her back to me. Her long robe blows around her as she rolls up her sleeve to reveal a tattoo on her forearm—I can't make out what it is. She moves her opposite hand to press the tattoo and I find myself squeaking as she does. She swings towards me, dark eyes glinting.
"That's right, Weasel. You bloody well should be scared of my Dark Mark. I've summoned the Dark Lord. Best stay away or Nagini will be having a little bit of a snack, now won't she?"
As she speaks she gets closer and closer. My terror mounts as she pushes her face into mine. "Snakes eat Weasels, best remember that, dearie. Dearie little Weasel. Dearie little baby Weasels are snakes' favorite munchies."
Shaking, I try to back up and stumble and fall. I do not fall to the ground but fall against something. I turn just in time to see a small cauldron, which looks like a witches' brew if there ever was one, fall to the side and spill its contents onto the floor. Immediately I am grabbed from behind and see the fury on the woman's face.
"You brat! You little bitch! Look at what you've done!" she shrieks. I cower in a corner, searching desperately for an exit. The woman pulls a thin stick out of her pocket and waves it a bit—the liquid comes off the floor and back into the cauldron. The contents safe again, I think hopefully, but the woman turns on me. Snarling, she lifts me up and hurls me across the room. I land in a heap on the floor and she charges. Kicking at me, my head and ribs and lungs burn with pain.
"Stop."
I look up and instead of finding a savior, I see a chalk-white man with red, horrid eyes, a man who looks very much like the snake by his side. Reaching a new level of terror, I crawl further into the corner, behind my first attacker.
"My Lord," the woman bows.
"You were given a fairly simple task and you seem to be having trouble with it."
"Not at all, my...my Lord, the weasel—"
The man turns his eyes on me. He regards me for a moment.
"Animals must be house-trained if one wishes to keep a pet, even one as unusual as your weasel, Bellatrix."
He raises his own wand—I am quaking, I am in trouble. And I am right, my head immediately splits open in pain. Everything in my body hurts—the pain is so agonizing, it is indescribable. I am being ripped apart. Trying to move every which way to ease this torture, I kick and squirm and twitch. Suddenly it stops. I am left gasping, crying, twitching with reminisces of the anguish.
"Muggles"—he says this word with utter disdain—"teach young laboratory rats to travel through a maze by shocking them with electricity when they've made a wrong turn. The prize at the end of the maze is cheese. This is a very similar experiment: we are teaching a very young weasel how to behave. Unfortunately, my dear, you have taken a wrong turn. Crucio."
Once again, my body is racked with pain, jolts of 'electricity' shooting through me, cramping and stretching and snapping and mangling my body.
He waves the wand again and I find myself dropping. In the anguish I did not realize I had been levitating. I smash into the ground, twisting my leg painfully under me. I cradle my leg to my body as I try to hide myself into the corner.
"No cheese for you today, Weasel." Both the man and woman laugh. The snake hisses and begins to crawl towards me.
"No, Nagini, not today. She has learned her lesson." Temporary relief washes over me until the woman, Bellatrix, picks me up and I am tossed into a tiny room with only a small blanket in the corner. I crawl there, nursing my leg, and begin to cry…
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