Take Me Away

Chapter Four

Lost in the darkness of a land
Where all the hope that's offered is
Memories of being taken by the hand
And we are led into the sun

~Sarah McLachlan--Lost

"Today, class, we'll be doing Glamour charms," Professor Flitwick spoke shrilly, beaming from his precarious perch on a stack of books. He began to explain the process of glamour and the charm that could be used to change one's outward appearance. The spell was almost like the Polyjuice potion with a few significant differences. The Polyjuice potion lasted for an hour and, though the time limit could be altered, the person's true identity could not be identified physically. They truly became that person. On the other hand, glamour lasted longer and could be cancelled at any time by the person affected and a powerful castor could dispel glamour if they concentrated hard enough.

Harry copied down the notes silently, idly wondering why he was even here. Harry had thought that Hogwarts would be his relief, like it had always been before. But it was worse than being home with the Dursleys. At 4 Privet Drive, Harry had usually been able to ignore the jeers and insults. And at least no one there knew what he had been through. If another person looks at me with that Look, then I'll scream, Harry thought, pressing his quill harder to the parchment and nearly ripping it in the process. The Look, Harry decided, was one of the worst things about being at Hogwarts. All of the teachers (minus Snape) and most of the students (except for the Slytherins) either looked at him with fear, concern, or a misguided empathy. Colin Creevey, for instance, had taken great pleasure in prattling on and on about how "some people just couldn't take a hint when it was obvious that Harry didn't want to be bothered." Harry had abruptly hexed Colin's mouth shut and continued eating his breakfast as if nothing had happened. But still the forced smiles were being flashed at him wherever he went and whispers trailed in his wake.

And I'm sick of it, Harry said to himself angrily, waving his wand far too aggressively and sending sparks over at Dean Thomas, who yelped as the scorching embers of magic rained down on him.

"Not like that, Mr. Potter," Flitwick squeaked in alarm, hurrying over to him, his hat falling off in the process. "Remember--gentle! Not a jerk! Try again!"

Harry groaned inwardly but, with the rest of the class watching him, flicked his wrist and curtly said, "Commutatus," imagining the person that he wanted to change into but his thoughts drifted and turned to, as usual, the person that he missed so acutely at the moment. His hair grew longer, his face thinner, his eyes more sunken and they darkened. His bones shifted slightly; Harry could feel himself grow and change.

Pavarti Patil and Lavender Brown screamed. There were sharp intakes of breath heard all around the room and even Flitwick was taken aback.

The figure of Sirius Black had replaced Harry Potter. Everybody backed away and stared at Harry with amazement and alarm. Ron and Hermione's faces were filled with worry and hesitation. Harry, speaking hoarsely (his vocal chords had become those of Sirius as he had first heard him), mentally berated himself as he intoned, "Finite Incantatum."

His features morphed back into his own and Flitwick piped up in a trembling voice, steadying himself with one hand. "Very good, Potter. Five points to Gryffindor." His eyes darted around the room. "Well?" he snapped, sounding very unlike Flitwick and eerily similar to Snape. "Get back to it." Hermione shot a concerned glance at her best friend who sat back down in his chair, brooding.

"Com," she spoke shakily. "Commutatus." Her change was even more rapid than Harry's and even he looked up when the hushed giggles broke out. Hermione had chosen to give herself the appearance of Ron. The real Ron was blushing deep red and glaring at Hermione, who just grinned cheekily and swiftly changed back.

"Your turn," she said brightly. Ron did so and nearly everybody burst out into laughter. Even Harry's lips twitched a little. Ron had cast a glamour over himself to make him look like...

"A house elf, Weasley?" Flitwick asked, amused.

"Dobby," Harry murmured under his breath. The transformation was complete, right down to mismatched socks. Harry shook his head and began to twirl his wand carelessly in his long, slender fingers, counting down the minutes until the class ended.

He was the first one out the door. One class down, Harry thought. How many more to go again?

*~*~*

Potions with the Slytherins came after lunch and was by far the most...interesting, Harry later supposed the word was. Yes, Potions was certainly, without a doubt, the most interesting class that day.

The Gryffindors and the Slytherins met at the front of the Potions classroom door, like they did every year. Before, it had always been the Dream Team vs. the Slytherin Trio. Harry had just come from Divination. Needless to say, he was not in the mood for a trade of insults. He was in a sour frame of mind and felt quite strongly that he would hex the next person who gave him the Look.

"If it isn't the Mudblood, Scarface, and Weasel," Malfoy sneered. Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson flanked him as per usual. Parkinson, Harry noted with a bit of detached curiosity, hung back slightly and looked him straight in the eye for a second. Her eyes were cold and dead, as empty as a victim of the Dementor's Kiss. They were a closely guarded sea of swirling blue, sometimes so dark they were nearly black one minute and sometimes as light as frosty, cruel ice. That was her mask, he could see already. For a split second, it faltered and his mind rushed back to the feast, when he had caught a glimpse of how weary she was inside, how much she hated her existence already and Harry, no matter how hard he tried to suppress the traitorous feeling, felt a deep empathy. In that moment, she was not a Slytherin and he was not a Gryffindor. They were just a boy and a girl, confused and hurt beyond recall and Harry could see how lost she felt.

"If it isn't Ferret, Pug-face, and the Bitch," Ron snarled back, breaking Harry and Pansy out of their reverie. Both masks went up and they were on opposite sides once more.

"Weasley, your insults get worse each time we meet," Zabini gave a ladylike snort. "When you can afford to dish out good and witty abuse, we'll actually listen to it." She paused and her pretty face twisted in a nasty smile. "Of course, with the salary your father's on, I doubt that that will be happening anytime in the next millennia." Parkinson remained silent on the other side of Malfoy, her clear azure eyes watching the fight calmly. Harry watched her watch them and he couldn't help but feel obligated to help her. After all, it was his entire fault that her parents were dead.

What am I thinking? Harry groaned to himself. Help Pansy Parkinson? She'd probably spit on me if I tried. No, I'm better off without the stress of having to deal with Her on top of everything.

Unknown to Harry, Pansy was sneaking glances at him as well as their friends and she had her own internal battles to fight.

The fortress was being built around her once more. First the cement, spread smoothly with the trowel. The brick was set on top painstakingly. There would be no crooked bricks this time. It would be solid. She couldn't risk anyone being able to tear it down, not like Harry bloody Potter had been able to, twice, too, in as many days! With just a flash of his big, forlorn emerald eyes, she had been a goner. How had he been able to do it? In sixteen years, no one had been able to sneak in through a crack in her fortress; no one had been able to slip in through the back door. And here was Harry Potter knocking on the front door, demanding entrance. And her, giving it to him, too!

With an inward growl, Pansy looked at her schoolmates, friends, enemies, and...well, she didn't know what some of them were to her. But, it didn't matter. All she felt was a lonely exhaustion over all of the skirmishes. Didn't they know that they would all die if they didn't work together? Didn't they know that they were humans too? The Gryffindors didn't care to know. But the Slytherins weren't much better.

Good vs. Evil, she thought derisively. Light vs. Dark. Gryffindor vs. Slytherin. Everyone's hero Potter vs. the dastardly villain Malfoy. It doesn't ever change, does it?

"So quiet, Parkinson?" Weasley turned on her with a scoff, still sputtering, furious over Blaise's remark. "Still recovering from your parents' deaths? It must have been a grisly demise. Nothing more than they deserved of course." His evil smirk rivaled most Slytherins, Pansy reflected lazily. The remark about her parents hit home and she froze, her mask sliding once more to reveal a stricken expression before it was fixed back into place carefully.

"Would you like a description?" her voice was calm enough, dripping with sickly sweet venom. Although her tongue did not lash out quite as quickly as Blaise's, it was just as sharp as a Basilisk's fang and twice as poisonous.

"Sure, Parkinson," Weasley shrugged flippantly, stupidly ignoring the warning bells going off in his mind. Somehow, he knew that he was walking straight into her trap.

"I don't think that you could possibly comprehend a description actually," Pansy breathed, circling Weasley like a vulture circles its prey. Out of the corner of her eye, she could vaguely see Draco and Blaise exchanging grins. "A demonstration, maybe, you would be able to grasp..." Moving in for the kill... "Acies memoria." The strike was made. Instantly, Weasley reeled backwards in horror, crying out. Granger and many of his fellow Gryffindors scrambled forward in panic.

"Ron!" Granger screeched. She wheeled on Pansy. "What have you done to him?" Her voice was high-pitched and hysterical, cinnamon eyes wide with horror.

Pansy arched a brow coolly. "Granger not knowing a spell?" her voice was disdainful and mockingly shocked. "You must be slipping." She laughed a cold laugh that held no mirth in it. She cut it off herself brusquely. "He's experiencing everything I went through that night with a few...changes in the cast, I should say?" With a sharp look at the recovering Weasley, Pansy callously whispered to him, "Don't ever talk about my parents like that again or I will make you pay a thousand times worse than I have made you pay today." Her voice dropped even more. "I'll make sure that it becomes reality, so help me." The look of fear that was still in his eyes followed her. They weren't the only pair either. Harry Potter's bright green eyes trailed her progress as she sauntered to the door of the Potions classroom from his spot in the corner and gleamed reproachfully at her.

Pansy could not shake the emotion that was rising in her, though she attempted to quash it. It almost felt like guilt. Even though she hated Weasley, for every nasty word he aimed at her or her friends, she would never, ever have wished her worst enemy to witness the horrible deaths of a loved one, such as she had faced. Well, maybe my worst enemy, Pansy amended. But I doubt that Voldemort loves anyone enough to be tortured by anyone's death.

"Pull yourself together, Weasley," her voice softened somewhat as she paused, looking briefly over her shoulder. "It's just a vision." To most of those standing around, it sounded like she was jeering at him but Draco and Blaise could probably hear the reassuring undertone of her words. Weasley looked up in surprised at the sudden compassion and almost seemed to smile shakily before he caught himself and settled for a glare instead. Pansy sighed inwardly before she swept into the classroom where Snape awaited them.

*~*~*

The omnipresent aura that cloaked Professor Snape followed him wherever he went. His cold black eyes penetrated the clumsy students who stumbled into his classroom. With a sneer, he viewed Potter and his gang of Gryffindors with utter disgust and hate. Snape noticed that Potter himself was not leading the group of Gryffindor students in his old self-righteous manner and his sharp eyes studied Potter's appearance. I'll bet that he hasn't slept all summer, Snape mused as he snapped at the class and began to teach the lesson automatically. So the Boy Who Lived feels guilty...interesting...His gaze turned towards his Slytherins and almost puffed up with satisfaction at his prized students: Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, and Pansy Parkinson. He felt a pang of pity and regret in his heart when he saw the cautious and angry posture of Pansy. She had been torn apart by the death of Larissa and Polaris. If only he had been there on time to save her parents...it was like Lily and James all over again. Lily...Snape sighed to himself. If only you had listened to me...then you would still be alive and I wouldn't owe Potter a debt that can never be repaid.

While Snape observed his pupils, Pansy was listlessly taking notes, her mind elsewhere. She fixed her gaze on the wall behind Snape and wondered about the passageway that she had discovered the night of the feast. Unable to concentrate on Potions, she spun her elegant eagle feather quill through her fingers and began to doodle all over the parchment.

"We'll have new partners this year, different ones every class," Snape spoke silkily, finally attracting Pansy's attention. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Potter sitting up too. "Partners picked by me."

I'm doomed, groaned Harry.

Shit, Pansy cursed Snape to herself. Then, she proceeded to call him every foul name that she could think of. Dirty, rotten, no-good, traitorous, bastard...don't pair me with a Gryffindor...

"Let's see..." his gaze was gleeful. "Bulstrode and Longbottom." Indignant objections were heard from both parties before Snape shot each of them a sharp glare. Millicent Bulstrode sullenly went to sit at a table with a terrified Longbottom. "Weasley and Crabbe." Weasley squeaked with rage. It was commonly known that Crabbe was even less competent than Goyle. And that was saying a lot. Pansy suspected that Goyle had just learned how to write and she was sure that Crabbe had yet to master the simple skill. "Brown and Zabini. Patil and Goyle. Tyler and Thomas. Egry and Finnegan." The list went on and on. Soon, there were only four people left to be paired: Hermione Granger, Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy, and Pansy herself.

Please not Potter, Pansy silently begged Snape. He'll destroy me. I can barely look him in the eye without...without what, Parkinson? She could almost hear Snape's scathing tone. She had no answer.

"Potter and..." Snape paused and Pansy waited with baited breath.

*~*~*

"...and Malfoy," Harry heard Snape finish his thought. Harry was in shock. He couldn't move. Even Snape could not be so stupid as to pair him with Malfoy. One of them would be dead by the end of the class. Harry was pretty sure it would be Malfoy but freak accidents can happen. And he wanted to live beyond Snape's Potions room. "Well?" snapped Snape. "Get to it." Harry sighed before slamming his cauldron on Malfoy's table. Could this day get any worse?

*~*~*

"This means it's Parkinson and Granger," Snape gave Pansy a strange glance. He had seen her sigh with utter relief when Potter had been paired with Draco. Perhaps the two Slytherins were fighting? But no, he had seen them outside the classroom and Draco rested his hand reassuringly on Pansy's shoulder for a brief moment before sneering at Potter. What was it then? Pansy had always had detested Potter but she never passed up a chance to tease him. So why was she so relieved to have been paired with Granger?

While Snape pondered, Pansy and Granger began silently on the Potion. Pansy was one of the best Potions students and she knew it. Everyone did. But not many people knew was that she earned her marks on her own. She was naturally good with Potions, as she was with DADA, Charms, and Transfiguration. It was this little known fact that started the fight that would send the next year's events in motion. Granger had been making snide comments the entire time they were working and, for the most part, Pansy had kept silent. Until Granger said something that infuriated Pansy so much she very nearly committed murder then and there.

"Don't screw up the Potion, Parkinson," Granger mocked her, obviously still rattled by Pansy's contemptuous remark earlier and her attack on Weasley. "I don't want to fail."

"Oh, perfect Hermione Granger is worried about her precious grade," Pansy laughed scornfully. "Well, don't worry. I'll bet that I could surpass your grade any day. And I have no intention of failing either."

"Must be pretty hard not to," Granger snapped back. "After all, without the brains to figure everything out, you have to rely on your looks to get a good mark. And those are almost as dismal as your intelligence." Pansy broke her initial thought to remain civil right there and regarded Granger with glittering blue eyes.

"Are you sure you're not talking about yourself?" Pansy remarked sweetly.

Granger just smiled and spoke the unforgiving retort, "Of course, with your parents being so horrible, it's no wonder you turned out the way you--" That was as far as she got because Pansy immediately took out her wand and pointed it at Granger inconspicuously. No one else seemed to notice; they were too busy watching Potter and Draco argue. Granger looked slightly remorseful and thoroughly shocked with herself. Pansy didn't care. Her blood pulsed with a fiery fury in her veins and the world was becoming dim. Even her voice seemed to come from a stranger.

"Didn't you learn your lesson earlier, Mudblood?" Pansy whispered quietly. "What I did to Weasley, I could easily do to you." She paused before resuming in her soft, deadly tone. "Of course, that wouldn't be very original. And I do so love being original." She threw Granger away from her and shouted, "Petrificus Totalus." By this time, Snape was making his way to their table, as was a frantic Draco and Blaise. Potter and Weasley were rushing to Granger's side but none of that mattered. All that mattered was that she had insulted her parents and Pansy wasn't going to stand for it.

Granger blocked the curse and called out, "Impendimenta." Pansy dodged it with ease and muttered the Disarming curse. A second later, Hermione was shooting back with, "Tarantellegra." Sparks flew all over the class and Snape was shouting and trying to push aside students to reach the heart of the duel when it happened.

Suddenly, the blood in Pansy's veins seemed to reach a new level of heat. It boiled and burned and, although she tried to scream, she found that she couldn't. Abruptly then, it stopped. No longer was she dueling. Inside her mind, she had all but forgotten about the duel as she found herself in a room, a room that was bathed in red, covered with dripping crimson paint. She was walking around the room in a beautiful white dress when she stumbled into another person, a boy, and placed her hand on the wall to balance herself, only to discover that the wall wasn't completely dry yet. A smear of red appeared on her hand, leaving an imprint of her hand on the wall of stone behind it. Immediately, it filled in with red once more and Pansy was amazed and admiring.

"Do you know where we are?" the boy asked. He looked about her age and had messy black hair and beautiful green eyes. Pansy thought he looked quite good in the room and giggled. Shaking her head, Pansy smiled at him and he grinned back ruefully.

She continued in her perusal of the room when a drop of red fell and landed on her nose. She looked up and more red paint dripped on her. Sniffing lightly, Pansy was puzzled over the distinctive tang that filled her nostrils. A slight trickle of red paint was slowly covering the floor and Pansy cried out. Reaching across, she grabbed the boy's hand and a name erupted in her mind. He could feel it too, she knew it. Simultaneously, they both thought it, though how she knew it she didn't know. It didn't seem strange to her but the most natural thing in the world. Matthew!

And then she collapsed into darkness once more, tumbling down and down. The hand of the mysterious boy had been ripped from her and she was alone, falling, falling, always falling, into the blackness of the abyss.