The Sun Slave

by PurpleFuzzyDragon

After an innocent mistake her second year, Carina's existence is wiped from the memories of everyone around her and she is cursed to live each day twice. Sixth year rolls around and she is a nameless face. Why, then, does a regular boy who has been forgetting for five years suddenly remember her?

14. Pinch Me, I'm Dreaming

Chapter 14-Pinch Me, I'm Dreaming

I open my eyes Friday morning and instantly sense something is wrong. The room is still dark, but I pick up on the slightest bit of light. Something natural reflecting against the particles of the air outside the school. I shoot out of bed and run across the dorm, through the common room, and out, into the school halls in an instant. I run along the stone floors, barely breathing as I streak past countless frames. The floor is ice against my bare feet and my hair flies back, but all I can think of is that sun rising without me. Never in my life, not since I stepped into that pool in the dungeons my third year, have I woken to the sun already up. I naturally wake before dawn. Something is terribly wrong. After reaching my window, I climb out and pull myself onto the shingling above. I grip the roof for a moment, afraid I've missed it. Afraid my chance is up. But I can't live in fear there forever. I look up.

And our eyes meet.

The sun is there, rising, but I don't know if I'm in the vision. If I am, there's no way to know until I wake. If I'm not…What if I'm not? What if I missed the sunrise and the day goes on without me? What should happen? I feel cold inside. I must wake up. I have to try. If there's anything to wake up from. I can't do it here. I know that.

I look down below and suddenly the height seems dizzying, but I jump anyway. I soar through the air and land firmly on the ground so it quakes when I press my hand to the grass. I get to my feet. This is a good distance from where I was. If I pinch myself here, I'll wake back up there. I pinch myself.

Nothing happens.

I look back up, hoping to see some out-of-body vision of myself waking on the roof above. But my spot is empty. I panic and pinch myself again. Nothing. Again. Again. Again, again, again, again…NO! No. No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. This feels wrong. I press a hand to my chest and breathe. My heart is jumping quickly, but not as quickly as when I leave my visions.

There's no vision. It's just me outside, in the cold, with my slip on. No wand, no clothes. Thank heavens it's just sunrise and barely a sole is on the grounds yet.

Just then, a group of six boys and a girl dressed in their Quidditch robes walk by me, whistling and calling for me to come over. No vision. This is all really happening. And it strikes me that if it were the vision, I wouldn't be able to process me being inside of a vision. It's not something I'm ever able to comprehend within. Now I can. This is wrong.

I run my fingers through my hair and walk slowly until I get into the school, but something snaps. I don't know what happened. It was an idea. A glimmer of hope. I break into a run. By the time I reach the Great Hall, there are a few people there. "Frieda!" I shout, scrambling through the Great Hall. She's always here early so she won't miss the hash browns which are gone in seconds. I skidder to a stop in front of her, eggs still hanging off her fork as she brings them to her mouth.

"Hello, Pocahontas," she greets. "Why don't you have clothes—"

"No time to explain! I need you to pinch me now!"

She raised her eyebrows and set down her fork. "Honey, we need to talk."

I have no time for one of Frieda's condescending lectures today. I jut out my arm. "Pinch me, Frieda!"

She pauses for a moment, then looks to the rest of the people in the Great Hall who are staring at us with great fascination. They don't exist in my mind. She leans close to me. "Are you crazy? What is your problem?!"

"Pinch my arm! Do it!"

She takes my arm and digs her fingernails hard into my flesh. "That what you wanted?"

I take my arm back and stare at the red welt. "Maybe you didn't do it right?"

"Are you serious?!" she shouted. "What is wrong with you?! You show up to breakfast in your knickers and want me to pinch you?! People are looking at us, you thick weirdo!"

"Sorry to have inconvenienced you," I tell her. I don't look at her. I stare at the spot on my arm where her fingernails pricked my skin, walking slowly from the Great Hall. I leave to Frieda's shouts, but I know if I let her stew a few minutes, I'll be a distant memory in her mind, a recall of embarrassment too far in the past to still upset her.

I make my way to the dungeons again. I think maybe I'll wander a bit. Fruitlessly look for that pond again. But I wonder. Can people remember me now? If I don't have my dream, can they see and remember who I am? I wonder. If I was ever strong enough to stop going up to that roof and staring into the drug sun, would I have been noticed because I had no vision? I stop in place and shiver in my slip as the cold sets in around me, my hair a mess, my legs and arms and most of my chest bare. I am nothing without my visions. Just a friendless girl who got terrible scores on her OWLs. I'll do the same for next year's NEWTs. Because I never had a reason to study. Because as well as I know people and this school, I'll never know the world well enough to fit into it.

Then, I hear a noise. Shuffling, shouting. Someone's frantically casting spells. Several someones. I duck behind a pillar as I see a boy pushed about. I peek out to see Albus Potter slammed against a wall, five wands pointed at his neck. Blood trickles across his mouth, down from his nose, hair ruffled, as always, in a black mess. His chest rises and falls fast.

"Does little Potter want to give up?" a boy laughs. I hold my breath. Sean Connors. The boy Frieda barely knows. She tends to fancy older men. Of course, who wouldn't go for the Slytherin's best Quidditch player? His reputation as a rebel didn't exactly have girls running from him either.

"Shut up, Malfoy. Don't be a coward. Fight me yourself!"

And that's when I fall, stumbling over my own two feet. Curse my chicken legs. The floor shoots the cold through my arms and legs and goosebumps push up in my skin. I hear whistles.

"Check it out, Potter," Scorpius taunts. "Another admirer from your adorable fangroup."

"Leave her alone, Malfoy! She's just a little girl!"

Amusing response. After all, I am a year older than him. It's hard to tell my age, though. Most people think I'm a third year instead of sixth.

"What? You don't like her? But she's so…oh, well, I guess she is pretty ugly, isn't she?"

Albus feints attack, but Malfoy doesn't flinch with the rest of the boys. He walks over to me and my blank face. He's much bigger than I am, but I'm hardly afraid. Reality is getting harder and harder for me to feel, so I pretend like it isn't there. I stand up, in his face. "Why is there so much anger in your heart?" I ask him. Oh, Carina. Lovey would be your only friend even if people could remember you.

A smile chisels its way into Scorpius's face. "I'm not angry. In fact, I'm a pretty good guy. I'm going to give you exactly what you want." I'm confused for a split second and he has a malicious smile. He grabs me before I can flinch and throws me to his cronies. They have me by the arms, but I don't try to struggle like Albus. There are too many of them. "Well? Don't you have a crush on him? Kiss him!"

I wanted to scream, arms pressed so hard behind my back, it feels like they might pop out of their sockets. They crush me against Albus who pushes his face away, yells, curses, kicks. Then, a hand grips the back of my head, digging its fingernails deep into my scalp and neck, and pushes my head into Albus so our lips are forced together.

I open my eyes.

The sun is bathing in a million brilliant colors and I sit there, my heart beating faster than it ever has so I think it might blur into a line of sound like on those heart monitors at the hospital. I go limp and slide over the roof, but when I land in the grass, I land against the ground like an armoire and just lay there, splintered.

"Hey!" I hear feet stamp the ground. Someone pushes me over and shakes my arm. "Hey, are you alright?"

I crack my eyes. "Jeremy?" I ask.

He looks surprised I know him. "Ah, yeah, it's me." I realize he's one of the boys who whistled at me in my vision. He slides his arms under my back and legs to carry me. "I'm taking you to the hospital wing."

"No, no!" I say, I'm still sore, but I'm limber and climb quickly out of his arms, sitting on the wet grass, feeling a kink forming in my neck. "I'm fine."

Jeremy hesitates. "You sure?"

"I'm sure," I tell him.

He waits a minute, but then takes off his Quidditch robes and slides them over my head. "I've got more," he says as I open my mouth. "And you look cold. You haven't got much on."

He stands up and runs back to his group which looks over at me, but keeps walking.

For a moment, I'm frozen on the ground, sitting another boy's Quidditch robes. "Thank you," say to him quietly. Then, I pick myself up, walk into the school, and I start pinching myself, just to make sure it's real. I pinch myself everywhere, in every possible place, and nothing happens. This time, I'm glad.

I'm walking down the empty hallway when I freeze.

"I never should 'a let you carry the map."

"Oh, no, you're not blamin' this on me! I clearly told you the map was goin' into the oak's third branch for you."

"I 'ave absolutely no memory of this conversation."

"Maybe because you never listen to me!"

"I do too listen to you! Every time you wouldn't stop talking about Meredith Silverchain—"

"Oh, come off it! That was decades ago!"

Dwarves. Dwarves. The majority of the world, muggle, wizard, goblin, or any magical creature alike, has never seen a dwarf even once. Those that have are ones who've traveled deep into the mountainsides and encounter dwarf miners who spin them around and magic them back to civilization so no one else may follow. Now, here, on Hogwarts ground, are two dwarves. I can't close my eyes for fear I'll wake again and they'll vanish.

"Meredith Silverchain, the poems you made me write for her!"

Suddenly, the other dwarf notices me. "Ah, Darius…"

"That song! Oh, do you remember that song? For no other love I 'ope more to gain—"

"Darius—"

"—than that of Meredith Silver—BLOODY HELL, IT'S A WITCH!"

"That was a smashing finish, I must say," I applaud with a smile.

"STAY BACK!" Darius shouts, raising his pickaxe. "This breaks steel and cuts diamonds; I'll 'ave you know!"

"Oh, for all that's good and humble, she's just a wee lass," the other tells him, hands on his hips. He bends low, his beard piling on the ground below, and holds out a hand. I reluctantly slide my hand into his and he kisses it before rising. "My good lass, my name is Sloane. Sloane Copperridge. And this here is my grumpy companion, Darius Minesworth."

"Grumpy companion! I'm no grump!"

"No, no, 'course not." Sloane winks at me. "And your name?"

"I'm Carina Honeycomb," I say, instinctively curtsying in Jeremy's Quidditch robes. It would seem Sloane's manners are contagious.

"Well," Darius says. "Unless your name's Albus Potter, we don't want nothing to do with you."

"Oh, now, Darius—"

"Albus Potter?" I ask. "But I do know Albus."

The two stare blankly at me for a moment. Slone looks back. "You see there? You see how it pays to be nice?"

"Oh, shut your flapper, Sloane."

He looks back to me. "Miss. Carina, if you would, lead us to him?"

"I would," I say, "but he's probably still asleep and I'm not allowed to take you to the Gryffindor common room. I'm not even supposed to know where it is. I'm a Hufflepuff."

"Can you at least take him to us?" Sloane asks.

"That might be difficult, but I'll see what I can do." I step to leave, but pause. "Er…not to pry, but how is it you know Albus?"

"We met in the Forbidden Forest."

"DON'T TELL 'ER!" Darius shouts. "SECRETS, MAN!"

"On the weekend of Halloween?" I ask.

"I can't say I've ever heard of that," Sloane tells me.

I lower myself to one knee before them. "You aren't here because of the goblin incident, are you?"

They stand in silence for a moment. "Sidebar," they say in unison. To my fascination, the two skitter down the hall a bit of a ways and begin frivolous conversational intercourse, looking up at me from time to time. They skitter on back.

"First, you answer our questions," Darius says.

"I'll see if I can," I tell them.

"Why've you got them red spots all over you?"

"I've been pinching myself."

They look at each other for a moment. Sloane shrugs. "Must be a witch thing."

"Alrighty, then," Darius says, adjusting his pants. "How much do you know about them goblins?"

"Not as much as I could," I say truthfully. "But if this is about the Living Pearl, I promise you, I can help."

"You know that name?"

"Along with some other people. What's happened? Why were you in the Forbidden Forest?"

"The real story is what made us leave," Sloane says. "Goblins. The spiders captured a whole bunch of 'em, dried 'em up and drank every ounce 'a their blood, then hung 'em up all proud around their layer. I never seen spiders catch a goblin before. Thing is…we knew one of them goblins."

"Two of 'em," Darius corrected. "I met another one. Theys was always after us about the Living Pearl. But if you want it—"

"I've got it," I tell them.

They freeze.

"You 'ave?" Darius asked.

"Hidden," I say, "And safe for now."

"Safe for now's not safe for always," Darius warned.

"I know," I tell them. "I want to destroy it."

"Then we're on the same team."

I can't stop myself from immediately believing them. I know they could just be trying to get me to tell them where it is so they can dig it out of Leo's body and have it for themselves, but something tells me no. Ever since I fell into that pool in the dungeons, I've got this way I can sense about people. It's simple and imprecise, but it tells me if someone's intentions are bad. I've never gotten that with Frieda or Leo and I don't get that with these dwarves.

"How do we know we can trust you?" Sloane asks.

"What do you need to trust me with?" I ask. "I'm no threat to you. I'm the one with the pearl. You're the threat."

They exchange a glance that lets me know everything I've just said is wrong. "You're right, lass," Sloane nods. "We trust you." And even though there's something he's keeping from me, I know he does.

"Then trust me when I say you don't want to go to Albus. Yes, he was in the forest the day the goblins were killed, but he wasn't involved. It was a minor coincidence." I can tell the dwarves don't believe me. "So perhaps it was a coincidence I had a small part in," I admit, "but Albus was a puppet along with Rose and Patricia. The only other person involved is Leo."

"We only know Albus," Sloane admitted. "Lucky, though, that we'd just so happen to meet one 'a the two people in the school who know 'bout the Pearl."

"Not so lucky," Darius says. "You know the Pearl, Sloane. If this girl 'as it, it's already started."

I knit my eyebrows. "What's started?"

"She don't even know," Darius says shaking his head. "Just as ignorant as all the rest. Damn shame."

"What's going on? If we want the Living Pearl destroyed, we need to be honest with one another."

"I absolutely agree," Sloane says. "And it's obvious you're hiding something."

"I'll tell you everything I know," I say. "Just don't—"

"WAIT!" Darius shouts. "People are comin'. I can hear it. Quick! Give us your clothes!"

"My clothes?" I look down at Lorcan's red Quidditch robes and know I only have a slip underneath it, but then I hear voices and know I only have seconds.

Sloane's gotten onto Darius's shoulders and is holding out his hands. In that moment, I realize it doesn't matter if I'm half-naked; no one will remember my face, but I don't want them to wear the robes. Then they'll smell like dwarf. And not like Jeremy.

The voices get louder. I have no choice. I slip them off of my head and over the two dwarves. Sloane's head is only up to my shoulder, yet he looks like a forty-year-old man. Oh, well. In my rush, I never grabbed my wand, so I wait patiently as the group rounds the corner. They come gradually down the hallway and I think perhaps they won't see us because of my charm. I am wrong.

The group slowly passes and watches us.

"Slytherins," I say, standing with bare legs, arms, and shoulders in my silk slip. "Quite unlike the snake in its solitary brooding state of patience, I find. Truly, they throw quite the social gathering."

Sloane nods in agreement.

"The Slytherins had a party?" one boy asks.

We say nothing, just look at one another for a moment.

"Didn't you know?" I ask, suddenly spotting the Slytherin insignia on his robes. "This is quite awkward for you," I say. Not awkward for the ones in their jimjams and oversized Quidditch robes. Not a bit.

The boy walks away, towards his group muttering, "In my own dorm…"

As soon as they are out of sight, Darius tosses Sloane off his shoulders and throws me Jeremy's balled-up Quidditch robes. "Now do you mind hiding us somewhere before the WHOLE BLOODY WIZARD WORLD FINDS OUT WE'RE 'ERE!"

I smile. "I think I know just the spot."