Author's note: Hi everybody! I just to thank all who reviewed:
Alassea: I'm flattered…Anyway, Alanna Aurdomiel is writing a witch-from-Hogwarts-goes-to-ME. I suggest you to have a look at it for it seems good, though she has published only two chapters, by now.
Alanna Aurdomiel: wow, thank you! I'm so glad you like her! I saw you fiction and I hope you'll update soon too.
xoulblade: Here's a new one for you
Lady Phoenix Slytherin: Thank you very much!
To every reader and every reviewer: As I said in the "default chapter", I'm not English nor American. I'm translating this fiction from Italian, my native tongue, and when I finish translating a chapter I send it to my dear and wonderful beta-reader Daughter of Olorin. She reads it, corrects it and sends it back to me, so I correct my mistakes. As you can guess, this requires some time. I'll try to update as soon as I can, but anyway, don't you worry: I have already written the whole fiction in Italian – and its the second part, too… - so I won't just let this drop.
We ain't risking any writer block. Maybe some "translator block"
Now enough babbling and let's go on with the story…
CHAPTER IV: DAYS OF WAITINGWhen she woke up, she found it hard to find her way. She didn't know where she was. Instinctively, she had thought of Hogwarts and her mind, numbed by sleepiness, had formulated for a moment a stupid thought.
"No, if I was at Hogwarts, my roommates…" she didn't go on. She forcefully shut her violet eyes, burying her face in her hands. Even so, she couldn't avoid seeing those images again. She saw clearly the room in the dungeon with the five beds and trunks. Her ears were grazed for a moment by the soft sound of four different breaths that sleep had made heavy and regular… How many times she had fallen asleep lulled by those breaths; how many times – just the previous year, when the only other breath was Catherine's – she had found herself laying awake in her bed, listening to Catherine Dwan, the only girl left except for her, a few meters away… she thought of the long nights alone, when she was awake suddenly from her half-sleep because she thought she had heard Catherine breathing. She had never told anyone, obviously. They'd think that she was mad…No, wait a moment, they already thought so, but this time they could have locked her up in an asylum and thrown the key away if she had started telling around that every night she was lulled to sleep by her roommate's breathing. Dead people don't breathe, Victoria. She imagined them perfectly as they told her so, in that calm and indulgent voice used with children a little bit obtuse…or with lunatics.
Slowly, she sat up with her legs crossed and leaned her elbows on her knees. And yet it was true, it was all true. She didn't imagine Catherine's breathing, it was real, just like her own…but it was useless. They wouldn't understand, they had never wanted to understand. The hell with that. It was useless bothering about it.
She got up and walked to her trunk. With all the mess that had happened when she had taken Frodo away, she hadn't even realized that she had also took the false bag that Strider had given her… False because that was her trunk transfigurated: a simple Exchanging Spell, a Fourth-Year thing. In the clearing where she had landed, there was only an empty bag. She had cast the spell right under their eyes and they hadn't noticed… Oh, well, she did her best not to let them notice.
She started rummaging through her trunk looking for some clothes, but her mind was elsewhere. Was Catherine Dwan still breathing in the middle of the night, down in the Slytherin girls' dorm, now that no one was there to hear her? And the others, did the others let their presence be acknowledged as well? No. She knew that they would always be wherever she was. All of them. All the twenty-nine of them.
She prepared her clothes and went to wash herself. She was ready in a few minutes and left the room they had given her. She absolutely wanted to find Frodo, to know how he was…but how? She had glanced out of her window and, from what she had seen, the place was huge. Hogwarts' castle was a dolls' house compared to it. How could she find someone so small like an Hobbit in such a place? And then, the only person she knew was Arwen, but then again, where could she find her?
"Oh, the hell with that!" she thought. "I can find a way out on my own." And so she did. She spent the little time of morning left wandering around Rivendell, looking for the Halfling. Around lunchtime, she found another one who walked in the corridor leaning on a walking stick. She was puzzled, because during her travel with the Ranger and the other four, they had told her that Hobbits don't love adventures, nor leaving their homes. She stopped him almost instinctively. She introduced herself but couldn't ask him anything because he cut her off thanking her for carrying there his nephew Frodo. She asked his name: Bilbo, was his answer, Bilbo Baggins. She started. She knew that name. Once she had heard Frodo and another Hobbit – what was his name…oh, yeah, Sam – whispering it. As the old Hobbit walked her to the Dining Hall, she asked him how Frodo was. A veil of sadness fell on the old man's eyes.
Not well, my dear girl, not well, he answered. He's fighting against the shadows.
Victoria didn't replied. Suddenly, in spite of the bright sun, she felt very cold. She didn't eat much and spent the most of her time wriggling nervously on her chair, waiting for Bilbo to finish his meal. In spite of his age, Bilbo still had an impressive appetite, just like every member of his race. Then they headed to the Last Homely House, but only Bilbo was allowed to enter. Victoria had to wait outside.
Don't take offence at it, girl, the Hobbit told her. It's already a miracle if they let me pass…
The girl didn't answer and the Hobbit entered the room. Victoria sat down on the threshold and the waiting started. She spent almost the whole afternoon sitting there, until Arwen herself came to fetch her.
You asked to be informed when your companions would cross Rivendell's borders.
Victoria's face was darkened by a sorrowful shadow. They're not my companions, she muttered, angry and wounded. At least, I'm not their companion.
I see, Arwen replied, compassionately. Would you wait for them nonetheless, like you had decided?
Absolutely yes.
Then come with me, I'll walk you to the gates. She turned and started walking down the corridor. Victoria could only follow her, after casting a brief glance toward the Hobbit's room and its closed door.
The sun was setting over Rivendell when, finally, the Ranger and the Hobbits sighted the gates.
It seems that somebody is waiting for us… Strider murmured, noticing a person leaning against one of the pillars. In spite of his excellent sight, he could only make out her shape. Duke the hawk let out a loud screech and took off from Billy's saddle, flying toward the figure against the pillar. When he landed on her shoulder, she raised an arm to stroke him.
It's Victoria… said Merry. Then she did it, she carried Frodo here in Rivendell.
The girl stood in front of the gates in the last daylight, her face expressionless like a statue's. They stopped in front of her, silently staring at each other. After a few minutes, the Ranger spoke in a broken voice.
Then…you did it.
She nodded slowly. Yeah, I did it. She gave him a single glance. A single glance that told more things than one hundred speeches.
How is Mister Frodo? Sam asked, running ahead.
They're still treating him.
What happened to your face? Pippin asked, noticing scratches and cuts already healed on her face.
Oh, nothing, just a few cuts when we broke the window…
Broke the window? Merry repeated hardly.
It's a long story.
No doubt about it, the Ranger spoke up Did a healer check on you?
No, they're too busy with Frodo and I don't wanna bother them with such a silly thing…I'll take care of it myself.
Lady Cross, I think… he started, but she cut him off. Come on, I won't die for a couple of scratches. Believe me, I have had worse things.
Strider looked at her in the eyes. I'm sorry I doubted you, Lady Victoria. I hope you'll accept my apology.
No need to apologize, Strider… the girl said sadly. …I'm quite used to it.
The Man wondered what she meant, but he decided to put his question off another time.
We were wrong about you, Lady Victoria. I hope you won't take offence at it. Aragorn said again.
Victoria studied him or a moment, like she was looking for clues of a lie, then, suddenly, she smiled and shook his right hand.
I accept your apology. And no ill-feelings. I haven't been exactly…well, let's drop it. she turned around. Come, I'll show you the way.
Strider watched her going off with the Hobbits. That girl was surely strange…And yet, now he had understood that probably she was like that because she had passed through a lot. He shook his head. He'd investigate on her past later.
Where's Mister Frodo? Sam asked, his eyes full of anxiety.
Victoria explained to him the way he must take and the Hobbit ran away without waiting for her.
When finally she managed to free herself of Merry, Pippin, and Strider to reach the room, she noticed, puzzled, that Bilbo was waiting for her outside the door.
Where's Sam? the girl asked, looking around. Maybe he got lost…
No, Lady Victoria, Sam arrived here safe and sound…he's with my nephew now.
And didn't they kick him out? she asked, her eyes wide.
Oh, I believe they tried…But Gamgees can be stubborn as mules when they want to.
Victoria felt anger building quickly inside of her, but she forced herself to keep quiet. She sat down at her seat and there she stayed, unmoving, caught up in her thoughts. She wasn't trying to understand why they had left her out, oh, not at all. She didn't need to rack her brain on that matter.
It was simple and clear. They didn't trust her. They feared she could hurt the young Hobbit. The girl clenched her fist so tightly that her nails ran through her flesh.
Che vadano all'inferno tutti quanti! [They can all go to Hell] she growled, also thinking about another time and other people.
Bilbo threw her a curious look. He knew many languages spoken in Middle Earth and he could recognize the others from their sound, and yet he hadn't understood nor recognized the language that the girl had spoken.
The next day, when Bilbo arrived at his nephew's room, Victoria was already sitting on the threshold. He nodded at her and then disappeared behind that damned door. Victoria sat there by herself, staring at the wooden door and waiting. That evening they let her know that there had been a clear improvement in his conditions and now all they had to do was waiting for his awakening. Victoria tried to ask if she could see him, but the healer said that only Bilbo and Sam were allowed. Victoria and the elder Hobbit protested, but it was completely useless.
I will tell you how he is, the Hobbit reassured before the door closed behind him. Furious, Victoria came back to her seat. It was frustrating just sitting there and doing nothing at all, unable to help. If only they have allowed her to see him… She didn't want to try some spells, not at all. She had never seen such a wound and she was afraid she could do more evil than good. But she could talk to him, hold his hand…anything not to be stuck there waiting! She tried to walk around that kind of little house (she didn't know what to call it). Yeah, there was a balcony, but to her taste it was already too high, she couldn't bring herself to scale it. She smiled bitterly. Funny, she had flown on a broomstick after more than two years, with all those things that had happened, but she didn't feel like climbing on that balcony. A shiver shook her limbs and she closed her eyes, lost in another terrible memory… The sound of footsteps awakened her. She saw Bilbo walking with difficulty toward her and she went to him, starting immediately to ask question after question. But his words didn't ease her anxiety.
Later that evening, long after dinnertime was over, Victoria was still there, walking back and forth on that threshold, not allowed to enter. She went into the garden again, in front of the balcony. There was a window slightly open and she could catch a glimpse of a flickering light behind the half-closed curtains. She looked again at the balcony. A creeper climbed on the wall to the banisters and then the wood finely carved created enough hooks that could support her hands and feet. This time her hands wouldn't slide against cold stones. A soft, kind breeze blew and the temperature was pleasant. This time her hands and her limbs wouldn't be numb with the biting cold, she wouldn't feel her blood almost freezing in her veins. Then the height, it was so low compared to the big Northern Tower of Hogwarts. Even if she fell…
She shook her head violently. No, no, no, she mustn't think about falling, she must not let those images invading her brain again. She approached decidedly the wall and looked around. No one, it was very late, the right time to commit her "crime." Much ado about nothing. She just wanted to see him, just for a moment but she had to see him… She wanted to see that he was still there, that he was really…really what? She didn't know and didn't care. She just wanted to see him. Her hand grazed the carved wall, almost buried under the climbing plant, and then, suddenly, gripped it strongly. She placed her foot in the conjunction between two decorative motives and she pushed herself upward, heaving herself up. She hesitated to lift the first foot from its solid support and place it higher, but she did it and repeated the same thing with the other one. But when she found herself doing the third step, things changed. Suddenly, her head started spinning, she almost felt the hooks sliding away from under her feet.
Terrorized, she closed her eyes and pushed herself against the wall, tightening her grip until her hands started hurting. For some interminable seconds she stayed there, clinging like a survivor from a shipwreck to a piece of wreck. Then, slowly, she started going down, step by step. As soon as her feet were stably planted on the ground, she stepped back quickly and folded her arms against her chest. She was shaking. She took a deep breath, trying to get back her self-control. When she calmed down, she raised her gaze to that balcony and that half-open window.
I'm sorry, Frodo… she whispered, holding back her tears of anger and fear. I'm really sorry.
She turned and ran away before she got caught there.
Next day, she was on that threshold again.
Merry and Pippin ran across Victoria at lunchtime. The girl ignored the furious glares they threw her. They thought it was her fault if the Elves had kindly asked them to stay away from the Last Homely House. The healers couldn't work well if they stumbled over someone every time they entered and left. The Hobbits didn't know that the girl had been asked to go away with the same excuse. She had replied that she wouldn't move an inch and she didn't give a damn if in that damned place there were the only blind Elves of the whole Middle-Earth and they should watch where they walked and think more about healing that poor Hobbit instead of bothering her.
Victoria tried to concentrated on the food in her plate, but she couldn't. Someone was watching her, she felt it. She had become quite good in realizing when somebody watched her and especially how he watch her. From the eyes of a person she could understand a lot of things, but it wasn't a natural gift. Simply, she had learned how at Hogwarts, just like she had learned a bunch of other things that certainly weren't included in the study program. It had been a long time since she had gotten used to being followed by the people's eyes wherever she went, long before she arrived in Rivendell, where everybody stared at her because of her race and the clothes she wore. She thought about the way they stared at her at Hogwarts and a shiver ran through her limbs. Anger? Sorrow? Both? She couldn't tell it. And those eyes still on her back. She turned around suddenly and her eyes met the deep blue, magnetic eyes of a man, an old man with a long, tangled beard and long gray hair, his clothes completely gray. Who was he? Where had she met him? Then she remembered -- three days ago, when they had reached Rivendell. She had caught a glimpse of him near Frodo's room. It was him, she was sure. He was no ordinary Man, but then, nothing around her was ordinary. Yet, even in those altered conditions, she could feel his power. Earth or Middle-Earth, people's eyes never did change. Suddenly she realized who he reminded her of: Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster, the wizard who ran Hogwarts. His eyes where lighter, but the wisdom and the power she read there were the same, there was no mistake. She knew the look he was giving her and that reminded her more of the old Headmaster. He was studying her, trying to read her soul, trying to understand. For a moment, she felt like she was in Hogwarts, in the Great Hall again, sitting alone at a table meant for at least two thousand students that made her look smaller and stood out more at the same time, just like she made it look bigger and emptier merely sitting there. She pulled herself together, staring straight in the old man's eyes. A name came spontaneously to her lips. Gandalf… she murmured.
During the first days of traveling, they had told her of that wizard friend of the Hobbits, saying that probably he would have helped her to get back home. If it was true, than she was intentioned to avoid him as much as she can. She pushed her chair back and left the hall, taking the corridor that lead to the Last Homely House. She sat down on the threshold, as usual, and waited, cursing every blind and boring healer of every Earth.
The fourth night fell upon Rivendell and Victoria still sat in front of the house. It was late, more than every other evening, but to do what she had planned, she needed the favour of darkness. Slowly, she got to her feet and approached the door. She pulled out from a pocket her wand and, pointing it against the hated closed door, she murmured only a word, a word that was enough to make the lock go off..
Alohomora
She placed her hand on the finely carved handle and opened the door slowly, just enough to have a look inside the room. She saw some small tables against the walls, a wardrobe and Sam Gamgee sitting near the four-posted bed. His eyes were fixed on the unmoving form of Frodo Baggins, so he didn't see her watching them nor pointing her wand toward him and whispering: Dormiat.
A soft, light-blue ray hit him and immediately he felt his lids getting heavy. After a few seconds, his head dropped on his chest and he fell in a magic sleep. Victoria entered the room quickly, closing the door behind her. She stood still in the dusk clutching her wand, ready to cast another Sleeping Spell, but there was no need of it. Nobody was awake except for herself and she found it really weird. Obviously she didn't pretend that Elrond himself did so, but at least a healer should watch over the sick boy. What if he got worse? She shook her head. In spite of all the things she had heard from the Hobbits about the Elves during their journey, she was starting to think that the Immortals were a little bit overvalued. She approached the bed walking soundlessly and then she lowered her wand, letting out a small sigh. Frodo lay there, under the white sheets. She bent to brush his left hand with her fingers. It wasn't cold like when, in the woods, she had held it between her own to warm it up. She even felt a faint warmth. She smiled in the darkness and her fingers rose to brush the little Hobbit's face and dark curls. She could barely see him. Her hand caressed his cheek.
Come on, Frodo, she whispered. You've almost done it. You just have to come back to us, now.
She leaned toward him, whispering in his ear: Next time I wanna see those beautiful blue eyes of yours open, is it clear?
She briefly kissed his forehead and walked to the door, opening it with caution. She slipped outside murmuring Finite Incantatem and closed the door behind her.
In the room, someone, who had watched the scene unseen, passed from the darkness of the corner where he had hidden from the faint light. Gandalf the Gray fixed his piecing eyes on the door where the girl had left, knitting his brows. He turned just in time to see Sam Gamgee open his eyes, a little bit dazed, and his frown deepened. Who can do such a thing? he wondered.
The next morning, Victoria awoke later than usual. The previous night she had stayed awake for a long time before coming into action and, once she came back to her room, she had had an hard time falling asleep. Even now, as she had breakfast in the great hall, dark thoughts and memories from a past that hadn't yet stopped burning troubled her mind. She tried to be cold and impassive, but she wasn't… not enough to stand all the things that had happened: at Hogwarts first, then at home and then since she had arrived in this strange place… She hadn't understood exactly where she was nor why they talked that strange language so similar to English…Well, no, actually it was English, maybe a little bit archaic and with some words from Ancient Runes. This place wasn't that bad either…if only people would stop staring at her and avoiding her like she was some kind of danger. She thought about the Hobbit that lay in the white-sheeted bed and, closing her eyes, she prayed to her God to let him get better.
"I don't think I could last for a long time without him…" she thought and then she came round violently. "Fool! You must not grow fond of anyone, you know!" she scolded herself mentally. "You know that sooner or later they'll send you back home…" She took a sip of her hot milk "Well, the later, the better." She put down her mug and took her usual road. She sat down on the threshold waiting, but than she realized that the Last Homely House was strangely quiet. She leaned against the door and realized that it was open. When she came in, she almost had an heart attack: the House was empty. Frodo wasn't there anymore. She ran outside, wandering in the passages looking for Arwen. Surely she would know… She ran, feeling her heart pumping in her chest, a cold terror seizing her mind. She tried not to think about that night, four years before, when she had been all over Hogwarts' castle uselessly, looking for another missing person that was very dear to her – but it was hard, very hard. She heard laughter and slowed down. She knew those voices. They belonged to Merry, Pippin and Sam… She ran to them and found them in the Eastern court. As soon as they saw her, they stopped laughing, but she doubted it was for the anger she showed.
Where's Frodo? Where did you take him, what did you do to him?
Why should we tell you? Merry answered, showing a courage he didn't have.
Victoria had always had a short temper and recently she had gotten worse. She seized the Hobbit by his arm and shook him violently, furious.
Damn it, what else should I do to prove to you that I'm one of you? Tell me where Frodo is, I wanna know it now!
Victoria? called an uncertain voice on her right. The girl turned around and found herself face to face with the person she was looking for.
Frodo, you're… she couldn't go on, overwhelmed with emotion.
Awake? he replied, raising an eyebrow.
He motioned to her to come near. Please, come, I need to talk with you.
Behind Victoria's back, Sam opened his mouth to protest, but Frodo silenced him with a stern look.
Still quite upset, the girl approached him and they both went off into Rivendell's gardens. The Hobbit looked quite serious, but she couldn't help but feeling on cloud nine. He was awake. He was fine. Yet suddenly, a new thought hit her like a lightning hits a tree. She had waited for his awakening for so long, sitting on that threshold all those days, worrying like she hadn't done since Draco was there with her…and when he had finally awoken, no one, no one had bothered to tell her and end her torment. Her heart sank.
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