Not What It Seems

Chapter One

Sixteen-year-old Harry Potter sat himself down in one of the large overstuffed armchairs in the Gryffindor common room. He had ink, parchment, and quills all at hand, but he couldn't think of a single thing to write for the stupid assignment he was attempting to get done. He didn't know taking this new class, Creative Writing, would be so... hard. At least, it was hard for someone like Harry. His second day back and he already had a project to work on, when he thought this course would be one to coast through. How was he supposed to create the first chapter of an entire, full-length story using his dull imagination? Especially after what had happened to his life since last year...

His fifth year wasn't his favourite year by far. He was only fifteen and already everything seemed like it was crashing down around him. Secrets were being kept, trust was broken, and it seemed like more hell broke loose every day, especially for him. He wondered if his life would be just as complicated if he wasn't the Bloody-Boy-Who-Lived. Would the most important person to him have been killed if he still wasn't the one who nearly defeated Lord Voldemort? Would everything be just as confusing? Sometimes he even dreamed what his life would be like if he wasn't some huge celebrity that the Dark Lord and his followers were hunting down, as if he were a fox at a hunting party.

Still, he had had to come back to Hogwarts School of Witcraft and Wizardry, sooner or later, and he definitely preferred it to the boring Muggle world with his so-called "family". But now, as he sat in front of the fire in the common room, Harry decided taking this Creative Writing class was a bad choice. Hermione was already done with her first chapter and even Ron was getting there. Even though Hermione's was probably some girly fairytale and, knowing Ron, his was about the Chudley Cannons, at least theirs were somewhat finished, if not already. What was Harry supposed to write about? Inspiration for him was obviously somewhere else at the moment. Once he had witnessed Sirius's death, everything seemed to have have a boring and stupid meaning - especially life in general. Harry looked around for something - anything - to give him an idea of what to write about. He was stuck.

"What are you looking at Harry?" Hermione asked him, looking up from the book she was reading, as she sat in another chair near the fire. She always finished her homework in a second, which made Harry more than a little irritated.

"I need inspiration," he said impassively. "My stupid muse has left me right when I need her."

"Do you even have an idea of what you want to write about?"

"No."

His clean sheet of parchment, was quickly becoming full of ink spots from his quill, which he was tapping it absentmindedly. It didn't help him think of a story at all.

"Try thinking of a main character first," Hermione offered, trying to help her lost friend, "That's what I did." Now there's something Hary hadn't thought of: thinking of a main character. He decided he wanted a character really different and out of this world... Maybe they could be Brazilian or something? But then, seconds later, he was stuck again. What gender would it be? Male or female? Harry decided female and wrote this idea down.

"Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"What's a good Japanese last name?"

"Probably Suzuki or something..." she was sucked into her book again and not paying him much attention anymore.

"Thanks." She didn't respond, but soon the wheels in his head were turning and he finally had a story.

Tori Suzuki walked dark streets that were unknown to her. She had run away, but everything in the past seemed blank and distant to her. She didn't remember anything, not even the reason why she had ran away. All she could vaguely think of was falling down hard, on a cold, wet, cobblestone street. It was raining, pouring really, so it was hard to really see anything clearly. She was shivering from head to toe, denim jeans completely soaked, her t-shirt clinging to her skin from being wet. Her long, black ponytail was dripping as well, and a few loose hairs were sticking to her heartshaped face. The only thing truly visible of her features were her eyes. Almond shaped and the darkest, richest shade of red anyone had ever seen, they looked like garnets with flecks of gold and blue-violet.

A couple of times while following the cobblestone street she slipped and fell into mud puddles, making her appearance to the passerby even worse. Most would give her looks of pity, and she'd glare back, fuming with anger, but she couldn't for the life of her think of why she was angry in the first place. She was tired, and confused, and mixed up, and she finally decided she couldn't take it anymore.

Tori stopped at the front gate of a big house (actually, it was more like a castle, but she didn't see most of it because of the rain). The brick wall surrounding it seemed to go on for ages. She studied it and came across a plaque. It read Malfoy Manor and Est. 360 A.D. beneath it. She was tempted to open the gate and follow the path up to this "Malfoy Manor" and (probably very pitifully) ask for place of rest, but she decided against the idea. No person would let a soaking, muddy, run away girl who looked like a drowned rat into their house, and almost definitely this family wouldn't. Tori got the strange feeling from the name and the added "manor", they were a family of luxury and money and wouldn't want some potential thief into their house, which probably held masses of antiques and valuables. And her appearance would not help any.

She turned away, head hanging and continued walking, without even looking back, lest she give into the urge to go back and ask anyway. Suddenly, a strong arm grabbed her waist and a hand covered her mouth before she could even scream her surprise. She heard the sounds of running footsteps and heard another pair of feet, along with the person who captured her. She tried to struggle, but the person holding her was much too strong and as she continued, something hit the back of her head and darkness ensued.

"There. After many hours of trying to think of what to write about, I have finally finished the first chapter," Harry said, standing up and bowing with a flourish. Hermione and Ron noticed this, but decided to ignore it, as they had been ever since the end of last year, when he started to be unbelievably sarcastic.

"Congratulations, Harry! May I read it?" Hermione said, trying to poke some genuine emotion out of her friend. Harry handed her the few sheets of parchment he used and she sped through it, with Ron hovering over her shoulder trying to keep up. When they were finished, tonelessly he asked how it was. They both had...different looks.

"Red eyes? Awesome Harry!" Ron critiqued, "Going for the vampire feeling, eh?"

Harry ignored the sarcasm as well. "Is it alright? Is it Hermione?"

"It's...it's quite different. A female main character. Why did you decide to write about a girl?" Hermione asked.

"She sounds like a run away Cho Chang, but less blubbery," Ron said bluntly.

"Ron, shut it. Don't go on and remind Harry."

"She doesn't sound like a Cho, does she? I don't even know how I came up with an Asian character. I just wrote what my brain told me to," explained Harry, who certainly did remember Cho Chang last year. Probably the first and last girl he would ever kiss. During the summer, he had tried to write a letter apologizing for how he had acted on their only date, and how he was an insensitive jerk. After writing the apology letter, he read it over and thought what a fool he was being, trying to ask for forgiveness from a girl after being completely cruel. The letter ended up as a crumpled piece of paper, coming to rest alongside the dustbunnies under his bed.

"Well, obviously Ron thinks she does."

"What? I was just expressing my blasted opinion! What's wrong with that?"

"What's wrong--"

Harry had had enough of their squabbling. "Quit it you two. Thanks for reading the beginning of my story, and now, you can continue to bicker, because I'm off to bed. Goodnight." And with that, he grabbed his things and went up the staircase to the Sixth Year Gryffindor boys' dormitory.

"Good going Hermione. You made Harry mad."

"Excuse me, but I wasn't the one being utterly tactless."

"Hey, you always start the fights, even though you know I've got a temper!"

"Strange, I've never heard you actually admit you had one. Now, I'm going to bed as well. Goodnight, Temper Boy."

"Good work, Mr. Potter. Not bad, for your first piece. I'll be expecting great things from you," Professor Hector said, looking over her spectacles and giving him a small smile.

Harry attempted to smile back, but didn't quite succeed, making it more like a grimace. Why did everyone have to say that to him? People always seemed to expect great things from him. Even so, when the auburn-haired professor had returned the first chapter of his story, he pretty pleased with himself. And Ron and Hermione found it interesting, he thought, I guess Professor Hector likes interesting stories. There upon the top of the first page was a 99%, written in the professor's rounded handwriting. One of the highest grades he'd ever received while coming to Hogwarts! Harry turned to Hermione and Ron and looked over at their chapters. Looking at Hermione's, he almost choked from surprise.

"An 85%?" she cried quietly, clearly shocked, "This is my first B ever!" Harry and Ron exchanged looks of surprise and saw that Hermione's eyes were tearing up, even though she was trying to hide it.

"Well, there's a first time for everything, eh, Hermione?" Ron said, without thinking (as usual). Harry elbowed him, making Ron realize what he had just said.

"Why don't you talk to Professor Hector after class?" Harry suggested. Hermione nodded in reply and asked Ron what he got, in an attempt to change the subject.

"I got a 90%!" he replied, grinning from ear to ear, "Funny, huh? 'Mione got a B while me and Harry got A's!" Harry elbowed him harder this time and nodded toward Hermione, catching Ron's eye in the process. Obviously, Ron hadn't gotten the message the first time. He quickly apologized, and Hermione nodded it off, in an effort to hide her tears again. Though it wasn't very obvious to the casual onlooker, it was evident on her passed-back chapter as tear drops splattered on her parchment and smeared the ink.

Blimey, how can you get so emotional about a B? It's still good, Harry thought.

Class came to an end, and as the other students filed out of the classroom, Harry and Ron waited behind for Hermione. She opened her mouth to speak, but Professor Hector beat her to it. "I suppose you are wondering why and how you recieved your first B, Ms. Granger?" she asked, without turning around. Hermione bit her lip and made a small incoherant noise.

"Well, first off, it must've been quite a shock to you," the professor went on, as she continued writing on the chalk board, "You're so used to all A's, you've started to expect them," Hermione opened her mouth to object, but the older woman cut her off again.

"This is a different class, sorry to break it to you, Ms. Granger. You can't get by on memorizing the text book. There is no text book, and I'm going to be honest with you. You were lucky to score a B on your chapter." The teacher finally turned around and faced Hermione, a grim expression on her young face. "I seriously considered giving it a C, perhaps even a D, but you have excellent English and grammar skills, so I couldn't exactly give you a grade that low. Your chapter, Ms. Granger, is some of the worst material I think I've ever read. In other words, it was downright boring. This is Creative Writing, not a class such Transfiguration where you turn in essays on magical theory, and so forth. You use your imagination and your ingenuity to improve your writing abilities to create a good stories and plots. The operative word being good. Your characters were incredibly unrealistic and there didn't seem to have any point to the plot. So we meet a few teenagers. Big bloody deal. I suggest that if you want to do well in this class, come up with something a little more original, more fascinating, something that isn't boring, and more importanly, something different. Good day, Ms. Granger." And with that. Professor Hector turned back to her chalkboard, obviously dismissing them. As they walked to the Great Hall for lunch, Hermione was beside herself with anger.

"Well, I never!" she exclaimed irritably, clenching her now crumpled chapter, "She had no right to be that rude!" Harry and Ron were having trouble trying to keep up with her; she was in a bad mood and walking fast with long strides.

"Hermione, you hate any teacher who doesn't like your work. Take Professor Trelawney for example," Ron said, again without thinking. Ron clapped a hand to his mouth as he realized yet again what a stupid thing he'd said.

Hermione stopped in her tracks. "Great going, Ron," Harry muttered through clenched teeth, facing his red headed friend as she turned on her heel and started stomping back towards them.

"I think this might be the perfect time to run," Harry suggested.

"I agree, Harry," Ron nodded feverently, a look of worry pasted on his face as a livid Hermione came towards them. "I absolutely agree."

In the Gryffindor common room, Harry read over his story again and again, grinning, showing new confidence in the assignment. He had taken a liking to Professor Hector. She wasn't like any of the other professors in the school, but she still managed to keep a class under control. Harry thought, that besides Hagrid, she might now be one of his favorite teachers. She was also the first one to ever give Hermione a bad grade, and tell her that she had deserved it, which he thought was probably very good for her. Hermione was his friend, and he loved her like a sister, but she also needed to be brought back down to Earth every once in a while. Sometimes she was just so full of herself.

Hermione notwithstanding, he had never imagined himself writing a story and liking it until this class, and he was rather glad he had taken it. He even liked his character, the garnet-eyed Tori. It seemed like he had created a whole new world, which he sort of wished was real.

Everything that had to do with his story seemed so much easier for Harry to create now. The world, the characters, everything. Ideas popped up here and there, all the time and sometimes he had to keep a separate piece of parchment handy to write them down so he wouldn't forget them. Who knew that Harry would be good at something other than Quidditch? Even he was amazed it this new found talent.

The echoing sound of dripping water was what finally woke Tori up from the unconcious state she had been in. Her mind was foggy, yet again, and as she looked around, everything was fuzzy. She groaned as she rubbed the lump on her the back of her head, that was from whatever had knocked her out and she arched her back as she stretched. She felt cramped for some reason, and as she placed her hands on the floor of the room, she felt freezing stone. It was so cold, Tori immediately felt a chill go up her arm. Her sight came back gradually, and she looked around the place where she was held. It looked like a dungeon. The cold, freezing stone walls, and the strong, metal bars that she couldn't in a million years break were all she saw. It was indeed bitterly cold and the fact that outside it was pouring rain didn't help, either.

A drop of cold water splattered on Tori's head and she looked up, seeing a leak. Over in the opposite corner, she saw a puddle of clear water. Her muscles aching, she got up and walked over to kneel beside it. As she looked over it, she saw her reflection. Long, black hair, dark skin, and those garnet coloured eyes of hers looked back. That was the only thing Tori liked about herself: her eyes. The rest, she hated for some reason. As she continued staring at her reflection, she found herself disgusted and agrily splashed the water. Drops of it splashed upon her, making her even colder, and again, she was beside herself with anger.

As Tori buried her head in her knees, she heard the creaking sound of the metal door open. In stepped a middle-aged man, with long, platinum-blonde hair held back in a ponytail, his dark green cloak billowing around him. He was lean and muscled, his cold grey eyes looking down at the teenage girl. He had an air of power around him, and Tori felt a deeply rooted sense of fear as she looked upon him. She refused to cower at his feet however, especially if he was the one who ordered her kidnapping.

"You must be Tori Suzuki," the man said, his thin lips curving into an evil smirk. All Tori could do was glare back at him, gazes meeting. Receiving no answer, he continued, "I am Lucius Malfoy. Do you know why you are here, Poppet?"

Tori ignored the pet name, and her eyes squinted in hatred. "No."

"No? So, you don't not know how special you are, do you, Poppet?" Lucius Malfoy asked, a look of control washing over him. Calling her "Poppet" only made Tori angrier.

"No. And don't call me 'Poppet', you filthy, disgusting bastard," she snarled through clenched teeth, spitting at his Italian leather boots. Anger flared in her eyes, and the guards behind Lucius stepped back involuntarily. Lucius noticed the change of garnet to flames and a small sliver of fear crept in.

"Request considered. Now, on to how you are very special, to me and my fellow, eh...friends," he said silkily. Continuing, he said without hesitation, "You're not from this world. You are from a different dimension, and my collegues have now decided on taking over these dimensions. For some reason, you have fallen through some sort of portal, and you being here makes you very valuable, and very very special indeed."

She didn't believe a word of this crap. "How do you know there isn't some other Tori Suzuki? What if I'm the wrong person?" Tori spat, standing up, glaring at Lucius and crossing her arms. Her legs were weak, and she felt like immediately falling back down, but she had too much pride, especially in front of this obviously despicable man and his cronies. The wealthy man chuckled from amusement. This girl had spunk.

"In disbelief, are you? How could there be another Tori Suzuki with garnet eyes that turn to fire when she's angered?" Tori clenched her fists and stepped back a bit. She continued to not believe a word of what he said. How could she not be from this so-called reality? Another dimension? If she truly had fallen through, why didn't she remember a thing from her life before everything here took place?

Seeing that he had won, Lucius turned on his heel, his guards following. Even though she knew he had the victory, Tori wouldn't admit it. Lost in her thoughts and bewilderment, her attention was caught as she heard a clatter on the stone floor. There she saw, was a plain, and simple dagger. Sharp, small, slender. Everything needed for her escape, she thought grimly.