Mind Slavery

CHAPTER 3

I dreamed I was talking to Hermione in the common room. I was aware of a red haze surrounding me. It seemed to only be around me, no one else. Suddenly, I became frightened by this haze only I could see. I tried to cry out, but my mouth wouldn't open. I heard the voice called Jahorina laughing.

I awoke in a bed in the hospital wing. The minute I opened my eyes, Ron jumped out of the chair he was in and yelled, "Ginny, Ginny, are you okay? What happened? Did someone hurt you? I heard you were hit with a CURSE! Who was it? Was it that bitch Slytherin, Ella? Was it? Tell me Ginny, TELL ME!"

"Ron Weasley!" An angry voice belonging to Madam Pomfrey boomed, "This is a HOSPITAL WING! I agreed you could sit here with your sister, as long as you CONTROLLED YOURSELF! You don't YELL in a place full of sick people!"

"Then why are you yelling?!" Ron snapped turning toward her. This seemed to be the wrong thing to say.

"OUT, OUT! This poor girl needs rest! She is obviously EXHAUSTED! You are not helping! GET OUT, GET OUT, GET OUT! AND DO NOT USE PROFANITY! You are getting DETENTION FOR THIS!"

Madam Pomfrey looked absolutely livid as she chased Ron from the room with her wand emitting sparks. Then in a completely opposite voice then the one she had been using she said, "Ah, hello dear. How are you feeling?"

"I feel . . . a... little sleepy," I stuttered.

"Well, I think you should stay her a while and rest, okay?" she said, her voice still dripping with sweetness.

"Umm . . . Okay."

"Good. I'm going to go help Ms. Brown. She seemed to have tried a human transfiguration spell well beyond her level," she sighed and shook her head. "I'll be back to check on you in a few hours. Just rest quietly." She left the room.

I laid back and tried to figure out what had happened. I was in Transfiguration . . . There was a voice wasn't there? Yes, there had been a voice, with a name that started with a J. Jessica? Jamie? No, it was something exotic sounding.

"Jahorina. It's Jahorina," I heard her say with a trace of annoyance in her voice.

I gasped and sat straight up in bed. It was all a dream wasn't it? Yes, it was all a dream! It must have been a dream!

"No, it wasn't a dream," she said, amused. "You know what happened! Think. Think really hard."

"No, No, No!" I moaned as it all came rushing back to me. Those screams, her laughter ringing above all the other noise that ran through me, torturing me. Her telling me that she . . . No it couldn't be. It's not possible!

"Oh but it is possible," she spoke amused. "Not only that, but it's true! I am your master and you are my slave."

"IT'S NOT TRUE!" I screamed hysterically. "IT'S NOT-" In a moment my mouth was slammed closed by some invisible force.

Madam Pomfrey immediately rushed in. "Ginny, Ginny! What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"I-" I started, planning to tell her all.

"Do you want to get carted off to St. Mungo's?" I heard Jahorina snap.

"Yes?" Madam Pomfrey asked, concerned.

A memory flashed before me. A dream I had just a week ago, of me being dragged into St. Mungo's. With that in my mind, I answered, "I . . just had a nightmare, is all. I Umm . . . forgot where I was."

Madam Pomfrey looked doubtful. "I'll go wrestle you up a good dreamless sleep potion. In the mean time, try to relax and I will be back in an hour or so." She stood up, glanced at me with concern and confusion in her eyes, and left the room.

"Do not do that again," Jahorina said forcefully. "Now, be quiet, don't scream, and listen to me. It will do no good to try to alert others to my presence. For one thing, they'll just think you've lost your mind. You don't want to end up in St. Mungo's! I know you don't because I know all about those nightmares you've been having ever since Tom Riddle of you losing your mind. Secondl-

"How do you know about that?" I asked flabbergasted. She couldn't know about that! I'd never told anyone, and she hadn't been in my head that long. "You couldn't know abo-" I stopped, feeling her anger welling up.

"Do not," she said coldly, her anger evident in every syllable, "interrupt me when I am talking."

Dread consumed me. Immediately after that it all came rushing back. The screaming, the pain in my head, her laughter, louder and fiercer then ever before. "Stop, stop!" I begged her. "Please, please, stop!"

She did. I could feel her amusement as she said, "I think we learned a little lesson here, hmm? Maybe about who holds the power?"

I didn't say anything, still recovering from the torture I received just moments ago.

She sighed. "When I ask a question, I expect a response. I wouldn't think you wanted another round, not after you just begged me to stop." I felt the noise rising again. "Well?" she asked.

"No, I don't" I managed to gasp out while shaking my head.

"No, what?" she asked calmly.

"No, I don't," I repeated.

"You misunderstood me. What I mean is, I want you to address me when you speak to me."

"Okay . . . Jahorina."

"Again, not what I meant. I want you to call me, Master," she said and I could feel her smiling.

Master? No way. "There's no way I'm calling you that!" I said venomously.

She chuckled softly. "Oh, I'm absolutely sure that there is a way. There are all sorts of different ways to break somebody, Ginny. All sorts of ways . . . " her voice trailed off.

"Well, they won't work on me!"

"Oh, you think not?" she asked with a little laugh. "Oh believe me, I can make them work. Perhaps a different sort of torture will help? This time I'll make it heavier."

I tensed, expecting the sound to explode out like the last time. Instead I felt nothing out of the ordinary. For a little while the only sound I was aware was of the sound of my breathing. It got louder and louder. A strange buzzing began in my ears. It gradually got louder and louder, just like my breathing. I felt strange, detached. I could feel my skin crawling. I tried to move but she was holding my body still the same way she had held my mouth still earlier.

It wasn't as bad as the other ones though. It could have been worse.

"Oh, believe me, it will get worse, I am just getting started," she said softly. Her voice was making the crawling and the buzzing much worse. I hoped she wouldn't keep talking. I flinched mentally at the sound of her voice as she started talking again. "I like this torture because it's a little more . . . personal." Every time she spoke it hurt. Not physically, but psychologically. My skin crawled and I could hear her voice flowing in every atom of my being.

"Oh yes," she said dreamily. "I know you feel that."

"Stop talking!" I said, intending to sound forceful, but ending up sounding more pleading.

"Oh, I don't think so, I'm rather enjoying this. You're responding very well to my voice," she paused a moment then said, "I can keep this up for hours, you know. As long as it takes." Against my will, I felt fear run through me. I felt her smiling. "Yes, you're scared, aren't you? Tell me how scared you are."

I didn't say anything and she laughed softly, not breaking the spell of the dreaminess in her voice. "Let's see how long you can hold your tongue silent, I don't think it will take much longer."

This slowness, her soft voice flowing over and in me, the way I was so aware of my breathing and the blood running through my body, was agony. I wanted to move, wanted to tear at my face, my body, so I could move. But most of all, I wanted to scream, to scream, and scream, and scream so I wouldn't hear her, or at least I would hear something besides her voice.

She paused sometimes. Each time it was just long enough for me to build a little hope, that maybe she would stop talking and let me go. Then she would start speaking again, soft and slow, tearing me apart.

She kept talking. "You will soon be doing, not only everything I say to do, but anything you think I might want you to do. It will become your life's mission to keep me happy. And that is because, keeping me happy, will keep you-"

Her dreamy, singsong voice became an unbearable agony. I couldn't take it anymore! No more! No more! Finally, when she paused for a moment, I seized my chance and I begged, "Please, please, stop. I can't take anymore!"

"Please stop, what?" she asked softly.

I knew what she wanted. I knew I shouldn't give in to her. I knew I should be able to hold out against her. But above all of those truths, I knew I couldn't take this slow, quiet, torture anymore. "Master," I whispered, shame enveloping me. "Please stop, master."