LUX IN TENEBRIS LUCET (ORIGINAL VERSION)

CHAPTER 3:

THE GIRL OF DARKNESS

The present day(1)

Alma's eyes fluttered open, only to shut once more as light seared her retinas. A hiss of pain wormed out of her lips. She ached all over. But she could also feel things, things she hadn't truly felt for a long time. The cool, soothing sensation of cloth against her bare skin. The smell of must and dust. To actually experience these sensations once more rather than rely on memory was…she didn't know what to think.

"It's alright, Miss Wade," came the soothing but authoritative voice of an older woman. "Easy does it."

Her eyes flickered open once more, and focused on a woman in a nurse's uniform. Concern was in the rather strict-looking woman's eyes. Where…am I?

The woman seemed somewhat surprised at her question, or rather, at how it came to her. Recovering her composure, she said, "You're in the hospital wing of Hogwarts."

Hogwarts? So…I'm really there. She blinked, recognising the woman from Harry's memories. You're Madam Pomfrey, aren't you?

The woman nodded. "The Headmaster told me about you, what he knew of you, anyway. He said you were in some sort of Muggle contraption. I had to remove those damned tubes and stop the bleeding from the IV lines. I've seen Muggle medical apparatus before, but…what they did to you…" A sickened expression flashed briefly onto the woman's face.

Before Alma could reply, the door opened, and a man with sallow skin, a pointed face framed by lank, greasy black hair, and eyes as dark as night swept in. "I have the potion as requested, Madam Pomfrey," the man said in a resonant, if somewhat nasal tone.

Alma recognised him from Harry's memories too. Professor Severus Snape, the Potions Master, Head of Slytherin, and nasty bastard. Her eyes narrowed, as did Snape's when his gaze met hers. However, he did not say anything, and Alma was surprised to discover that she couldn't hear his thoughts, at least not easily. Perhaps that was a good thing: the perpetual susurration of people's thoughts was maddening. Instead, she said, to him, What is that potion?

Snape seemed to bite back a retort, before placing the vial next to her. "It is a very dangerous potion, for use in emergencies. As your muscles are severely wasted, they require a certain amount of regeneration. Growing bones back is easier and less hazardous, but muscles are another matter. Indeed, these potions are highly regulated. I believe Muggles have a similar, if far less effective drug known as anabolic steroids(2). This dose will be enough to bring your muscles back to a state where you may walk and perform simple physical tasks. And I believe it is quite…unpleasant to drink." A smirk twitched at the man's features. "Very unpleasant."

With that, he swept out of the room, his robes billowing out behind him like the wings of a bat. The impressive and dramatic effect was somewhat ruined when the door suddenly swung shut on them, and a strangled squawk from behind the door was followed by a crash. Pomfrey hurried over, and opened the door, freeing Snape's robes and helping him to his feet. For a moment, he glared at Alma, who just stared back at him impassively. He then strode away. Only then did Alma allow a smirk to touch her features. After all, telekinesis did have its uses in pranks.

Snape was right about one thing: it was unpleasant. Indeed, it felt like every inch of her body was on fire when she drank the potion. But she didn't scream, she didn't cry out, not even telepathically. She just gritted her teeth and endured the pain. Life without pain, after all, had no meaning. It was pain, after all, that brought moments of pleasure into sharp relief, and reminded one that you were still alive, and still mortal. Of course, she would prefer not to have to deal with it.

The process took place overnight, so when she woke up, aching and sore all over, Harry was sitting next to her. …Harry? she asked. She realised someone else was sitting nearby, a girl with bushy brown hair and prominent teeth. Hermione… she said quietly.

Hermione, who was currently reading a book, looked up at Alma speaking to her. "Oh, you're awake," Hermione said. There was an uneasy look in the girl's eyes, and her thoughts were filled with the sour smell of fear, but Hermione also knew that it was only thanks to Alma that she was still alive, and the troll that had nearly squashed her into strawberry jam had been turned into a rather messy skeleton. "How do you feel?"

Like a troll squashed me, Alma replied with a tired smile. She frowned when she looked around. Where's Ron?

Harry looked a bit...hurt when Alma mentioned Ron. And when she saw his thoughts, she understood why. Ron was unable to accept that Harry hadn't put his name in, and hadn't intended to, so they had something of a rift between them. Hermione believed Harry, but judging by the thoughts in their heads, there were few, save for the staff, who believed him.

"We came here to visit you, see if you were all right," Hermione said after they conversed over the Ron issue. "You look…better than you did last night."

Snape's doing. He gave me some sort of muscle regrowth potion…very painful. Alma gingerly lifted her arm out from underneath the sheets. It was no longer the near-skeletal wreck it had been last night. Instead, it was normal. Slender, but she could move it without much effort. She waggled her fingers, and smiled. She reached over to Harry, and gently touched his cheek. For the first time, not counting Harry hurriedly helping her to the hospital wing, they had touched. He felt so warm on her cool skin. She gently brushed her fingers through his hair, and then did the same to Hermione's bushy locks.

Alma laughed, out loud. It was a hoarse, cracked thing, as her larynx had all but atrophied while she was in the Vault, her lungs filled with oxygenated liquid. But it was laughter nonetheless, though it degenerated into coughing soon after. I can touch, she said, simple, juvenile wonder evident in her tone.

"But how did you get here, Alma?" Harry asked. "How did your name end up in the Goblet of Fire?"

I don't know.

Hermione frowned. "There's not a lot known about magical artifacts like the Goblet of Fire. Maybe…it brought you here because you were connected to Harry. The parchment looked different to the others. I am speculating, of course."

It doesn't matter, Alma said. I am here now. But…what is the Goblet of Fire? What is this Tri-Wizard Tournament?

It took some explaining, but Alma was brought up to speed. The last time she had spoken to Harry, it had been in the aftermath of the Wizarding World Cup. Something had prevented her from speaking further, presumably what Armacham had done to her. They had stepped up their psychic insulation lately, and the few stray thoughts she caught from the workers suggested why.

…So, you're in this tournament now. As am I. And we have to undergo a series of tasks, or forfeit our magic?

Harry nodded. "I'm not sure whether your psychic powers count, but…"

"Actually, they do," Madam Pomfrey said, walking over. "I cast some diagnostic spells over Miss Wade last night, and while it is somewhat strange, she does have a magical core. I have seen few like it before, really. A true psychic is really a natural user of Legilimency."

On Harry and Alma's puzzled look, Hermione supplied, helpfully, "The magical art of penetrating the mind of another. Occlumency, conversely, is defending one's mind against Legilimency."

"Well done, Miss Granger," Pomfrey said. "That is a basic summary of those arts. That being said, using Legilimency on another without permission is an offence. Many a wizard or witch who used Legilimency on the unwilling have gone to Azkaban."

I read thoughts automatically, Alma said. I can go deeper, but I cannot switch it off.

"Legilimency, as most people put it, is actively penetrating the mind, where it can be used to cause damage. Dumbledore has vouched for you, Miss Wade, so I will trust you. But keep what I said in mind." The door opened, and Pomfrey muttered, "What fresh hell is this?"

It was, indeed, a fresh hell, in the form of two redheads. Fred and George Weasley, pranksters extraordinaire, and successors to the Marauder legacy. The number of people in Hogwarts who knew about Alma prior to her appearance in the Great Hall could probably be measured on the fingers and toes of a human's hands and feet. Fred and George were two of them. They had found out because Alma, occasionally, appeared next to Harry on the Marauder's Map, her presence in Harry's mind being enough for the Map to notice. In the aftermath of the troll incident on Halloween three years ago, they confronted Harry about it, along with Ron and Hermione.

Alma liked the twins, partly because she had an impish, prank-playing streak in her (although the pranks she played on the scientists examining her were somewhat darker than anything the twins would have contemplated), and partly because she was almost certain that they were (albeit weak) psychics themselves. On occasion, she helped them with a prank in the school, with the Perilous Potions Poltergeist earlier this year being their masterpiece after Snape forced Lupin to resign. She was probably the only person capable of telling which one was which, though it helped that she was psychic.

"At last, Forge," said Fred, "we meet our prankster-in-arms in person."

"Indeed, Gred," George replied. "We are not worthy to be in her presence."

Alma giggled. Bow before me, unworthy mortals. Your goddess has come.

Fred and George sank to their knees. Not out of any influence from Alma, or because they wanted to truly abase themselves. But they loved to play their parts in this little farce.

"Stop that at once!" Hermione snapped.

"Listen not to the infidel, O Alma," Fred said. "She does not see thy radiance."

"Guys, knock it off," Harry groaned. While he liked Fred and George's antics, he wasn't quite in the mood for them.

"Oh, come on, Harry," Fred said. "It's the greatest prank you've ever pulled, even better than our modest efforts."

"You manage to get your name in the Goblet of Fire, and you manage to bring your girlfriend along for the ride," George said. "That's classic!"

Then, they noticed the chill in the room. They noticed that Alma was not smiling any more. Instead, her glowing eyes were focused on the twins.

I would know if he put his name in the Goblet of Fire. I would know if he managed to bring me here himself. And I don't know whether I am his girlfriend. So I would suggest that you stop believing that idiocy about him putting it in there himself, before I tie your brains in on themselves. It's like being trapped in a cupboard with a Boggart, forever. I did that to a researcher once. She didn't like it(3).

The twins quailed back from Alma's gaze. It was almost unheard-of that she had ever become angry with them. And yet, here she was, doing with a quiet telepathic voice what Molly Weasley usually had to use volume or a Howler to achieve.

Am I understood? Alma asked after an awkward silence.

"Perfectly!" Fred and George chorused, their eyes wide with understandable fear, and quaking in their robes. Then again, they had more sense than to piss off the powerful psychic.

"Alma, you didn't need to go that far," Harry chided.

Yes, I did, Alma responded. She then returned her attention to the twins. We're still friends, aren't we?

Fred and George looked at each other, then back at Alma. "Ummm…I hope so," George said.

"We were hoping on getting your help with pranking Filch later," Fred added.

Good. I have something in mind for him. I call it Dope-on-a-Rope(4).

"Alma…can we please get back on track?" Hermione asked. "You've been selected as the Fifth Champion of the Tri-Wizard Tournament. There's already an uproar about Harry being selected, but you…well, with your looks, particularly your eyes, you look…"

Hermione trailed off, but Alma caught her meaning, even without intruding on her thoughts. Dark. Or rather, evil. That is what they think.

"Yes."

Alma's face became an impassive mask once more. Eventually, she said, The darkness has been with me all my life. I spent half of it in darkness. That darkness has flowed into me, filled me, become me. But in that darkness, there was only one light. Her orange eyes flickered over to Harry. Just because I am dark, does not mean I will extinguish the light.

"…Well, that was romantic," Fred remarked. He suddenly reeled, as if an invisible attacker had slapped him. He stared at Alma, who was smirking.

Psychic, remember? Just be thankful you didn't sing that song you're thinking so loudly(5).

The look on Fred's face was a sight to behold, and the tension drained away somewhat in the small circle of friends. Alma smiled when she thought of that. Friends. Yes, friends. She had friends. Actual friends…

CHAPTER 3 ANNOTATIONS:

Well, Alma is in the hospital wing, Harry is in the doghouse where most of Hogwarts is concerned, Snape is in Alma's bad books, and Fred and George are in plotting mode. Good times all-round.

Snape does know something of Alma: at the very least, he witnessed her power during the events of The Prisoner of Azkaban (or at least this story's equivalent), destroying a shitload of Dementors. He fears and hates her, in much the same way he does with Lupin, though he doesn't know of her collaboration with the Weasleys. But he only now knows her history thanks to Dumbledore. How does Dumbledore know? You'll find out later. Harry and Dumbledore are the two who knew her best prior to the events of The Goblet of Fire, but as you may guess from what has been said so far, Ron, as well as the Weasley twins, know her. They have met a projection of her, as have Hermione. Draco Malfoy has met a projection too, but he doesn't know her, other than 'scary ghost girl who seems attached to Harry'. Remus and Sirius know too. Who else? Well, we'll see…

1. The Goblet of Fire is set in 1994/1995. Assume that this is November 1st, 1994 at this point. I'm not going to be always precise with dates, instead putting 'present day' for the events of The Goblet of Fire.

2. I have no doubt that Snape is not as ignorant of Muggle things as his fellow Death Eaters are. In fact, I reckon, being a Halfblood, he knows more than a few Muggle drugs, hence his comment here. I wrote in this potion to explain how Alma can get up and walking again after so long in the tank (okay, she manages it even as a skeletal near-corpse in the games, but I wanted it to be other than psychic powers). I thought of it as having a not dissimilar time to work as Skele-Gro from The Chamber of Secrets, and more painful at that.

3. This is the researcher from the F.E.A.R prequel videos. I decided that this was her ultimate fate. Alma knows what a Boggart is because she was present during that lesson in The Prisoner of Azkaban. Maybe I might write that scene later…

4. If you've ever played any Batman: Arkham game, you'll know what I mean by this. If not, Batman can perch on a gargoyle, swoop down on an enemy who passes underneath, and hang them by their leg on rope. I called it 'dope on a rope', and I laughed when, in Batman: Arkham Origins, one of Joker's thugs actually said (in a New Jersey accent, I think), "Lookit that! A dope on a rope!"

5. In case you're wondering, it's the 'sitting in the tree' song. Thankfully, the 'kissing' version.