Posted: Thu Feb 22, 2007 10:44 pm by Tonic

Joki stalked through the dungeons, dragging Regriam behind her by the hair. She had found the small girl in the kitchens with that Huffle boyfriend of hers, Drago. No one else was around. Joki had cast a temporary petrification spell on Drago and unceremoniously seized Regriam.

Joki had waited patiently for days for this opportunity, biding her time and ignoring her better judgment that told her to let the younger girl's insults slide. She had borne it all with some degree of patience, until Regriam ignorantly threatened to drown her. That, combined with a note Joki had received from her parents asking her to come home for a few days, had made Joki tense and even more hostile than usual. And now her opportunity for vengeance had come.

Regriam was a handful, still trying to attack the older girl even after Joki had taken her wand and tossed it away. Finally, after they were nearly seen by a class of stressed-out Fourth Years, Joki jerked Regriam back into a dark corner.

"What did you DO to him!" Regriam shrieked, finally able to speak. Joki backhanded her, hard, then grabbed the girl's jaw roughly and tilted her head back.

"I told you to shut up! One more word, and I'll cut your tongue out!" Regriam stared back at her, quaking with anger or fear. "Now you listen good. We're going to have to go through the Entrance Hall to get where we're going. I know for a fact that Seville is in there now, and several others. You are going to walk calmly across the hall, and go to the garden and wait for me there. If you even think about asking anyone for help, or giving any indication that anything is wrong, it's Drago that will pay. Got it?" Regriam nodded, backing away as Joki released her. "Good. Now move."

Regriam obediently walked a few steps of her in silence. They were almost through the dungeons when they heard a clamor in the corridor ahead of them. Joki froze when she heard Drago's voice. "They're here!"

There was no time to wonder how the boy had gotten to the Entrance Hall before them. Joki was forced to let Regriam go. The corridor was too long, and there was no quick way out of the dungeons at the other end. Whispering a quick spell to make herself invisible, Joki pressed back against the wall and prayed that none of them would come near enough to touch her, or hear her breathing.

For Drago hadn't just gone for Seville, he had brought the whole damned cavalry. Lucian was there too, and a girl Joki didn't know. She knew there was no way she could take on Priggo and Lucian and hope to escape. While the group was gathered around Regriam, Joki slipped past them and fled the dungeons, fury at her own failure roaring through her mind. She could only hope Regriam took her threat seriously, and valued Drago's safety enough to keep quiet.

Joki had just enough time to slip into the courtyard and light a cigarette before her invisibility spell wore off. She was standing in the sunlight, smoking calmly as if she had been there for several minutes, when Regriam's rescue party caught up with her. One look at Seville's face, and she knew Regriam had told them everything. Lies and denial wouldn't save her this time.

Later as she sat in detention, Seville's words ran through her mind. "You really have outdone yourself this time . . . I'll report you for kidnapping, attempted murder . . . don't think you can hide behind Snape, this is going straight to McGonagall . . . " And the line that caused despair to rise in her chest: "I've been here long enough to know that evidence is easily made . . . "

Joki leaned against the wall in the trophy room, her forehead pressed against the cool stone. She felt a tremendous sense of guilt. Not for what she had been about to do to Regriam- she would probably try again, if it was ever safe- but towards the writer of the blue journal she had loaned to Seville and gotten back the day before.

"You put everything I needed in my hands, whoever you are. You should have known it would go this way . . ."

_________________
"We are not bound forever to the circles of the world, and beyond them is more than memory."

Posted: Sat Feb 24, 2007 8:36 am by Tonic

The night was still and deep. Snow-covered forests and fields flashed by the train windows. Joki sat in a seat by the window, alone in the car. The blue journal was in a hidden pocket of her robes, its familiar shape pressed against her side. Her breath caused condensation to form on the cold glass. Absently she’d trace words in the fog, then wipe it away with her gloved hand, only to repeat the act a few minutes later.

She still could hardly believe she’d been able to get away before any teachers learned of what she had done. Not for a minute did she think Seville would let it slide- she knew he would plan the timing of her prosecution down to the minute.

Her mind was never still. A thousand thoughts and questions clamored for place. She thought about her parents, wondered why now, after four years without contact, they so urgently wanted her to come home.

She thought of the last few minutes in the tavern with Aden before the train came, thought about the sound of his voice and how he always made things seem a little brighter.

“You know why I like you, Joki? Because you wear tiny shoes in the snow . . .”

Her breath was even and warm against the cold window, her eyes staring out into the night beyond.

She had not said farewell to Creed. Things between them weren’t any better.

Absently she traced on the glass, her finger guided by some subconscious part of her brain. She thought about Adam. The years had not quieted her anguish over him. Every day she learned a new way to miss him. She thought about Creed, wondered if things between them would ever be better. She thought about the class with Professor Snape, weeks before, wondered for the hundredth time what the potion she had drank was. She wondered why, after years of smoking, cigarettes nearly made her vomit now.

She thought about the dream, the beautifully vivid nightmare of the unmarked graves that haunted her night after night.

“A sign, a sign . . . something to show me where the truth lies . . .”

The train began to slow, stirring Joki from her reverie.

Her eyes focused on what she had written on the windowpane, with her fingertip in her own breath: The rune that adorned the cover of the blue book.

And beneath it, a name:

Tilly.

_________________
"We are not bound forever to the circles of the world, and beyond them is more than memory."

Posted: Thu Mar 01, 2007 7:48 am byTonic


One need not be a chamber to be haunted,
One need not be a house;
The brain has corridors surpassing
Material place.

-Emily Dickinson




"So it's been you, then. The whole time." The words came from Joki's stiff lips, each syllable breaking from her like ice shards chipped brutally from the block. "You've made me this." She stood at the window as snow swirled outside, feeling neither the bitter cold that seeped through the edges of the glass or the warmth of the fire that burned in the grate behind her.

Alexander Wilde sat in a high-backed seat by the fire, watching her calmly. "I cannot take full credit, Josephine. Your will is stronger than I even dared dream."

Joki turned to look at him over her shoulder, her face and lips a bloodless white, her eyes blank. "The journal?"

"I've been writing it for years, for you."

"It's not your handwriting."

"Merely not the handwriting you know, Josephine."

"The cigarettes?"

"I sent them, of course. You think that fool boy would keep that up all these years?"

"Why did you send them to me?"

"So you would not forget."

Joki turned from the window and slowly walked to the chair where her father sat. He was a handsome man, even into middle age, but to Joki he had made himself worse than the devil. She felt no emotion as she reached a hand toward him, laying it against his cheek and looking into his green eyes so like her own.

"Adam?"

Alexander covered her hand with his, answering her almost kindly.

"You had to know what it is like to lose the person you care for most. The purest strength is birthed from that anguish."

"And you would do this to us? You, our father? You would murder your own flesh and leave what is left to grieve without consolation?"

Alexander removed Joki's hand from his cheek, holding her by the wrist and pulling off her glove. Turning her hand toward the firelight, he examined the spiderweb of scars that criss-crossed her palm. "Self-pity is unbecoming, Josephine. Everything I have done has been for you."

"It has been for you." Joki said, bright tears gleaming in her eyes but refusing to fall. "I will kill you for this, someday."

Alexanders grip on her wrist tightened painfully. Wrenching her arm, he brought her to her knees in front of him, gasping in pain. His other hand grabbed her hair, pulling her head back and forcing her to look at him. "You should understand something, Josephine. Your only worth is the knowledge I have given you. Should you decide you do not want the gift, you will be of no further use to me- just as your brother was not."

A spasm of pain crossed Joki's face, and she suddenly recalled the name that came to her on the train. She hurled it at him, her final stab though she didn't know its importance.

"And was Tilly of use to you?" Alexander stood, releasing Joki only to grab her by the upper arms and pull her to her feet.

"More than you will know for a long time. For the time being, do not speak that name, or even think it. Now go prepare your things. You will leave tomorrow."

"I can't go back to school," Joki said dully, her wretched mind attatching to the thought of everyday matters like a drowning man clings to a life preserver. "I'm in trouble there."

"I am aware." Alexander said dismissively. "You are resourceful. Deal with it. Stay at Durmstrang permanently if you must, or take responsiblity for your actions. Either way, you leave in the morning." He left, shutting the study door behind him.

******************************

The next morning Joki's things were loaded into a car that had been hired to take her to the train station. She had just settled back into the wide back seat when a fierce rapping on the car window made her start. Her mother stood outside, looking as Joki had never seen her before. Thomassa's hair, usually perfectly coifed, was in disarray around her face. Her green eyes were red with unshed tears. Looking at her through the window, Joki almost felt sorry for her. Almost. She rolled down the window.

"Tilly," Thomassa said without hesitation, "Tilly is the Truth."

Joki looked at her steadily, unwilling to be moved by anything she had to say, unaware of how very much her features were like her mother's.

"Why are you telling me this? And why only this?"

Thomossa looked over her shoulder again, then turned back and shook her head before leaving and running back to the house. Joki rolled up the window as the car began to move, with more answers than she ever possessed, and yet still even more questions.

_________________
"We are not bound forever to the circles of the world, and beyond them is more than memory."

Posted: Sun Mar 25, 2007 8:45 pm by Tonic

"You study necromancy, do you not?"

Pedro looked up at her, guarded surprise in his eyes. '"How do you know this?"

"Death hungers for itself. No surprise that one student of the dark craft would recognize another." Joki lifted her glass of rum and took a drink, watching the other Slytherin.

The Hog's Head was quiet. Long nights Joki had sat alone at the tavern, waiting. When Pedro had entered, she knew he was the one.

"I think I can help you." Joki pulled the blue journal from a bag at her feet, running her hand across the worn cover before handing the book to Pedro. "Almost everything you need to know is in there."

Curiosity overtook Pedro's caution, and he reached for the book. There was silence as he turned the pages, his brow furrowed in interest. Joki lit a cigarette, ignoring the impulse to gag that still came every time she inhaled the craved nicotine. Pedro had lingered on one page, glancing up at Joki from time to time. Finally he read the paragraph aloud, the one that was most familiar to the girl.

"It is the simplest principle in the world. Even animals know it. You must tear away the weak parts of yourself, so that you may be strong.” He looked up at her, eager to understand. "Love and hate?"

Joki nodded encouragingly. "Yes, even they must be bent to our will."

"Is that why you are so distant from everyone?"

The hand holding the cigarette waved the question away. "I don't know. Never really thought about it."

Pedro nodded, still thinking. "You bend love and hate to your will?"

"Of course." Joki said. "I love Aden. I hate Lucian. But even those emotions serve a purpose, and if I ever thought they were a danger to me, I would alter them however I must."

The silence pervaded again. They both ordered another drink. Pedro skimmed the pages of the book, reading a few more paragraphs out loud. Finally he looked up again, meeting Joki's eyes with something like sympathy. "Joki . . ."

She raised an eyebrow, nodding for him to go on.

"Love and hate . . . the are the strongest forces humans can know. In your desire to control them, be careful that you are not actually being ruled by them . . ."

Joki drained the last of the rum from her glass. "Wise words, Pedro. Guard that book with your life . . . I think someday we will live to see its full importance." She smiled as she turned away, satisfied with her choice for the book's new owner.

Slinging her bag over her shoulder, she went out into the cold night. Hogsmeade was dark and nearly silent as she walked to the Three Broomsticks, where she had rented a room for the night.

Once in the small, neat room, she threw her things down on the bed and went into the bathroom. Plugging the drain, she filled the sink to the brim with frigid water. Without hesitation, she plunged her face into the basin.

The water was so much colder than she had imagined. Tiny shards of ice, real or imagined, brushed against her skin and increased the torture a hundredfold. Eyes and mouth tightly closed, Joki felt the water invade her nose and her ears. Seconds passed.

The terrible fear arose again and again, each time she forced it to quiet. Her lungs felt as if they were exploding, cells dividing agonizingly as tissue and sinews separated. Darkness began to slowly blot out the images in her mind. Finally she lifted her head from the water, grasping the sides of the sink to keep from falling as she gasped for breath. The water ran from her face and hair to be soaked up by her already damp robes. A breath, then another, just enough so her vision cleared, then she plunged her head into the water again.

Seven times she repeated this, one for every year since Adam had died. Each time, she felt a little of her rage drain away. The self-inflicted reminder of her own mortality brought an overwhelming sense of relief. By the time she rose from the water the seventh time, she was composed and peaceful. Exhausted, she sat on the floor of the tiny bathroom, leaning against the wall.

She was human. She was weak. And for the first time, that was all right. Adam had been taken from her, but someday, somehow, she'd find him again. The realization of just how many lies Alexander had told was slowly dawning. And she didn't care. Tilly, the key, was still a mystery. And she didn't care. Someday things would be all right. But for now, she didn't care about any of it.

Slowly she stood to her feet and unplugged the drain, watching the water swirl away down into the pipes. Looking into the mirror above the sink, she studied her reflection. The thin girl staring back at her had seemed a stranger for a long time. Now Joki finally took stock of her features, making herself acknowledge them as her own. Her hair needed to be dyed again, roots the color of corn silk were starting to show. Her heavy black eyeliner had been washed away in the cold water. Her cheeks were slim, almost hollow; her lips full and blue from the cold.

Always before the question had come, thundering from the deepest places of her heart: "Who am I?" Tonight, as she stared into her own brilliantly green eyes, the answer came easily. "You are Josephine Kira Wilde . . . and I am finally going to love you."

_________________
"We are not bound forever to the circles of the world, and beyond them is more than memory."

Posted: Thu Mar 29, 2007 4:26 am by Tonic

Sitting on the floor in a corner of the great room in the Brask's hideout, Joki pored over her Advanced Transfiguration book. The boys were out, so she had a few moments to study and practice in quiet. This business of turning over a new leaf was every bit as difficult as she had imagined. The past several years she had done as little classwork as she could and still get by, and now in her last year of school she was having to reteach herself almost everything. Today, she was trying to turn a pixie into a flower. The pixie was not at all happy with the idea, so she tossed it to Memnoch and let him maul it around while she took a break.

Joki pulled out the case she kept her smokes in. She considered it for a moment, then chose one of Aden's 'specials' while Memnoch growled and worried over his new toy. After a morning listening to that damn pixie chattering and whirring, she needed something a bit stronger than the usual nicotine to calm her nerves.

The first inhaled breath of smoke instantly made her stomach cramp. The familiar nausea rose in her throat. She cursed and took another breath, still bewildered over her body's reaction to the stuff. For several minutes she struggled to enjoy the smoke, shutting out Memnoch's growls and the pixie's shrieks. Finally she gave up in disgust and looked over at Memnoch. He looked immensely pleased with himself. It didn't take Joki long to figure out why. The pixie lay between his giant front paws, intact but quite dead. Joki scratched the panther behind his ears.

"Good job, boy. Bet she'll be much more pleasant to work with now." Some persuading was required before Memnoch would give up his prize, and even then he sat watching Joki woefully and sulking in the opposite corner of the room.

Joki's stomach was still rebelling from the smoke. Swallowing hard to keep from vomiting, she absently picked up her wand and pointed at the pixie, muttering the words of the spell.

Instantly, bright purple light flashed from the wand, blotting out Joki's vision. The familiar nausea she felt became almost overpowering, bringing with it a barrage of sights and senses and memories.

She was back in a potions class from the previous year. Snape was calling her to the front of the room. In his dark robes he seemed menacing, the perpetual sneer in place. One foot in front of the other, her steps unreasonably loud on the stone floor. Creed. Aden. Priggo. Lucian. Regriam and Drago. The way they stared at her with alarm and fascination, as though they were about to witness a monstrous train wreck. The potion on the desk, black and thick like tar. "Drink it, Miss Wilde . . ." The disgusting ooze burning down her throat into her stomach, all the while the thought hammering in her brain: "Whatever this is, I deserve it . . " The taste, like used cigarettes, filthy and rank and revolting. Cigarettes . . . Snape . . . Of course!

How could she have been so blind? The realization reverberated through her as the light from the wand slowly died away. Strange vibrations ran from her stomach to her fingertips to her toes. She blinked several times as the room came back into focus, her mind reeling.

It took a moment before she realized that she was floating off the ground. Not floating, more like . . . hovering. She frowned. A bright purple light danced and shimmered around her, creating an aura from her head to her legs. Her legs . . . her BARE legs! Gone were her robes, replaced by skimpy green garments.

But not only she herself had changed, her surroundings had too. The room, and everything in it, had increased in size. Ten, twelve, twenty times over! The stacks of books she had been studying now rose from the ground like monoliths. The parchment she had scribbled notes on was the size of a bed, and her pen was as long as she was tall. Only her wand, still clutched tightly in her hand, retained its correct proportions. The dead pixie was gone.

Her open book lay on the floor. She must have mispronounced a syllable in the spell, for it seemed that instead of turning the pixie into a flower, she had altered the dimensions of the entire place. Impatiently she shook her head and moved toward the book. A strange tugging sensation between her shoulders stopped her. Growing increasingly irritated, she twisted her head around to look at her back, and nearly fainted at what she saw.

So delicate they were almost transparent, shimmering purple wings arched gracefully from between Joki's shoulder blades. She turned in circles, trying to get a better look at them. She was terribly confused, and angry.

"This is your doing, Snape!" she cried furiously. Or tried to. What came out was a high-pitched, musical chatter that was nothing but gibberish. She stamped one bare foot angrily in the air, then stopped short. She was even acting like a pixie! This dream, or hallucination or whatever it was, was entirely too real for comfort.

Doubly so when Memnoch slowly rose from his corner.

Crouching low, the great cat stalked toward her, his yellow eyes dilated with predatory glee.

_________________
"We are not bound forever to the circles of the world, and beyond them is more than memory."

Joki held her fingers in front of her face and flexed them as she lay on her bed. She was back in her own skin again, and the three days of being confined to a pixie form were beginning to feel like just a bad dream. Maybe, after all, they were. But dammit, what a nightmare it had been. The transition had been seamless- she had simply woken up as herself again.

That had been a week ago now, and already a few things had changed in Joki's life. Though her undesirable substance abuse habits remained in place, her need for drink and nicotine was not foremost in her mind. She was applying herself to her studies with a zeal she had never shown before, and had even made a new friend of sorts.

Regriam Banther, of all people, had come to Joki for help. It seemed Seville had been right all those months ago- the two Slytherin girls had much in common. Joki thought about her experiences with Regriam so far. The younger girl was bright and sarcastic, intelligent with a wit to match. And thus far nothing Joki had thrown at her had deterred Regriam wanting to learn as much as she could about dark magic. Joki grinned to herself in the darkness as she thought about Regriam's reaction to the Olgavich crypts, and her eagerness in collecting unsavory ingredient for the spells they were practicing. Regriam would definitely need some training- she was addicted to success, but had little regard for the process of getting there. And she still had some unhealthy fixation on that Hufflepuff boy. Sharing knowledge with her would be a challenge- but Joki felt well up to it.

Rolling over onto her stomach, Joki closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep, her dreams a pleasant whirl of classwork, snow, Aden, Regriam, and rum; and somewhere behind it all, a pulsing violet light.

_________________
"We are not bound forever to the circles of the world, and beyond them is more than memory."

The wind tears at Creed’s robes as he makes his way across the Hogwarts lawn. He shortens the distance between himself and the castle with each enormous stride. His hood inflates as the wind fills it with cold, piercing air. His face is laden with several new cuts, scratches, and the occasional scar.

Passing Hagrid, he gives a slight nod to the familiar Gamekeeper.

“Heya Creed.” Welcomes Hagrid with a friendly wave.

Creed nods in return and continues up the road to Hogwarts. He passes the Quiddich Pitch, the entrance to the Forbidden Forest, and the Whomping Willow all on his way up to the Castle. He passes several first and second years trying out various spells on each other. He also passes an all-to-familiar tree, one which brings several mixed feelings and a number of memories.

Creed makes his way to the large wooden doors after passing the benches and the fountain that decorate the front lawn of Hogwarts.

He opens the large door with a lift of the knob and a effortless push. Creed enters into Hogwarts, ready for another year.

Concealed by the shadows of night, Joki leaned against a storefront in Knockturn Alley and watched the small figure on the corner opposite her. The haughty lift of her chin, the determined set of her thin shoulders, the overly-provocative clothing- watching Regriam as she stood under the sickly glow of a street lantern was like seeing herself, as she had been a few years ago. The observation was so poignant Joki felt a slight twinge of some unnamed, unexplored pain. She'd do what she could to help this one.

Pushing away from the building, Joki walked across the street with her black cloak billowing out behind her in the way that Regriam once said made her think of Snape. Banther was unusually distracted, failing to notice Joki until the older girl was in front of her.

"Waiting for someone?"
Regriam's head jerked up, and she scowled at Joki from beneath the brim of the hat she wore. "Why do you bother talking to your minions, when they're soooooooooo far beneath your notice, your highness?"

Joki raised an eyebrow, scanning Regriam's angry, upturned face. "What's crawled up in your arse and died?"

"Oh, I don't know," replied the other Slytherin with mock patience, "Could be that a little bird told me what you say about me when I'm not around, how you call me a worthless, stupid annoyance."

Fighting the ire that rose within her, Joki let the accusation hang in the air while she calmly lit a cigarette and inhaled the bitter smoke. "That bird didn't happen to fly from the Seville coop, did it?"

Regriam eyed her shrewdly, her antagonism wavering a moment. "Maaaaybe."

Joki gave a harsh laugh. "I figured as much. Do you honestly think I'd bother with you if I thought you didn't have some worth?"

Banther finally relented. "I guess not. But why would he say that, then?"

Joki shrugged, exhaling through her nostrils and letting the smoke curl about her head. "Because he knows I can take you farther than he can, and he can't stand it."

"He says he taught you things."

"Undoubtably. But he forgets the most important thing he ever taught me."

Regriam fidgeted impatiently, moving from one foot to the other and staring out over the dark street before giving Joki her attention again. "Well, what is it?"

The corners of Joki's lips tilted up in a confident smile, the cigarette clamped between her teeth. "He taught me what he is afraid of."

_________________
"We are not bound forever to the circles of the world, and beyond them is more than memory."

"You want to hear something sad, Tiff? Out of the people I really consider friends, you're the only one who isn't currently dead, missing, estranged, or hating me."

Tiffany Gladrag looked over the rim of her gently steaming teacup at Joki with sympathetic bemusement. "There's a cheery thought, Love. Aye?"

Joki slumped wearily into a delicate chair, looking decidedly out of place in the fashionable boutique.

"I am just beginning to wonder if wanting something and living your life for it is enough . . ."

_________________
"We are not bound forever to the circles of the world, and beyond them is more than memory."

"There are things you need to do, steps you need to take, milestones you need to put behind you before you start blazing your bloody trail of glory through the world." Joki stood with her arms crossed in the boy's Quidditch locker room, where she had dragged Regriam for an impromptu chat.

Regriam heaved an impatient sigh, her tolerance of Joki's instruction wearing thin. "So what do you suggest I do, then?"

"I suggest you examine your motivations. What left the emptiness you are trying so violently to fill?"

Regriam looked up at Joki, her shrewd eyes shining with crocodile tears as her bottom lip stuck out in a pout. "I had the cuuuutest little white kitten, and he got hit by a car."

Joki frowned, staring at the younger girl steadily. "Don't screw with me."

"Fine." Like a poisonous flood, Regriam's words spilled forth. Drago. Amber. people and events who had hurt her and made her feel worthless.

Joki listened patiently until the lengthy tirade had ended. She was selfish, to the core. But something about Banther hurt her. Laying a hand on Regriam's shoulder, she stooped to look her in the eye. "Listen to me. I will not f--k with you. I will not betray you. And I am not going to let anything happen to you."

_________________
"We are not bound forever to the circles of the world, and beyond them is more than memory."

The heavy door swung shut with a groan. Joki locked it with a touch of her wand, sidestepping to avoid stomping Regriam. Their breath rose in visible columns of vapor in the chill of the chamber as Joki strode to a sheet-covered table in the back of the room. Grasping the sheet in one hand, she pulled it back, revealing a half-dissected corpse.

"Good," she murmured, examining the body in the light from the torches that burned on the walls, "Undisturbed."

Regriam moved to her side and stared at the body in fascination. "He looks familiar."

Joki shook her head. "Muggle."

"Didja kill him?"

"No." Carefully, almost lovingly, Joki covered the body again. "There is more I want you to see here. A library."

"A what? Where? With books? Can I see it?!" Regriam practically bounced around Joki in excitement as the older girl herded her out of the room.

"Library, this way, yes, and yes." Joki took one last look into the chamber, then shut and locked the door. "Goodnight, Joseph."

Regriam broke off mid-babble and looks up at Joki in surprise. "Joseph? You name them?"

"'They' are people. They have names just like you and me."

"Right, of course. I just thought he looked more like . . . a Fred."

In the library, Regriam reminded Joki uncannily of the Snitch. She practically flew from one bookshelf to the next, scanning the titles greedily. "Where did all these come from?"

Memnoch rubbed against Joki's robes, growling out his rusty purr. Bending and picking up the cat, she held him in her arms as she moved about the room. "Most of them were already here. Some are mine. Some were my father's."

"Oh. Did you carve him up, too?"

"No, regrettably. He and my mother live just outside London."

"Is he . . . a nice man?" Regriam asked, placing a book back on a shelf and looking at Joki shrewdly.

"He is the devil," the tall girl replied woodenly, putting Memnoch on the floor. Tugging off her gloves, she held her hands palm-up before Regriam. "But he is the smartest man I know."

Banther stared at the scars on Joki's palms in fascinated horror. "Who did that to you? Are you a cutter? Did your father do that? Why?"

"Alexander felt the need from time to time remind me of why I was important." Used to the rapid fire questions, Joki calmly pulled her gloves back on. "And no, that's not a cry for pity. Just thought you should know what you're getting yourself into."

Regriam wrinkled up her nose, the feisty fire ever-present in her eyes. "I know. I want to learn."

_________________
"We are not bound forever to the circles of the world, and beyond them is more than memory."

Dressed plainly in grey robes, Joki strolled lazily down a street in London. A familiar red-bricked building with its dusty front window was just ahead. As she neared, she pulled up her hood to cover her vibrant tell-tale hair.

The flapping of wings stopped her just as she reached the sidewalk in front of St. Mungo's. Irritated at the interruption, she took the message from the owl and read it hastily, freezing when she saw the handwriting. Regriam was in trouble. There was blood on the letter- someone had hurt her. Joki felt a white-hot fire kindle in her brain when she read the last line.

"I have to leave. I love you Joki, you've been like a mom to me. I will miss you . . ."

Deadly calm in her fury, Joki scribbled a response. St. Mungo's would have to wait.

"Stay where you are. Nothing matters. We will fix whatever it is."

There was no doubt in Joki's mind who was responsible. And he knew she'd be looking for him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Drago stood in the middle of the path outside the gates of Hogsmeade. He grinned fiendishly when he saw Joki storming up the path. "That didn't take long. I knew she'd go crying to you."

"She doesn't cry for you, you filthy little leech. What did you do to her?"

Drago merely grinned. "She's leaving, you know. Already has her things packed."

"Petrificate!" Joki cast the spell with barely a thought. "I'll be back for you."

Ducking into the Hogsmeade Post Office, Joki sent off another message to Regriam. "Do not leave yet. I have a potions class in half an hour- meet me there."

On the way back to school Joki encountered a revived Drago, and he had backup. A few rapid, unexpected spells from Drith Silvermoon left the Slytherin girl reeling. Together Drago and Silvermoon disappeared, with Drith's reproachful "Don't hurt my friend." directed to Joki as they left.

_________________
"We are not bound forever to the circles of the world, and beyond them is more than memory."

When she was finally in control of her senses again, Joki fled to Hogwarts, so furious and heart-sick for Regriam that she went to class late, and unprepared. Slipping into the potions classroom, she heard a familiar small footstep behind her and felt a rush of relief. Unfortunately it was short-lived. Regriam was badly wounded, her young face tear-streaked and bloody. Joki rested a hand on her shoulder and pulled her to her side as they took their places at a desk in the back of the classroom, directly behind Drith. And Snape was not at all pleased with Joki's tardiness. His dark eyes glittered at her from the front of the room. Joki was too busy staring daggers at the back of Drith's head to notice, until the professor spoke.

"The students in the front of the room will now switch places with those in the back." Snape announced with a sneer. There was a moment's pause, then the sound of shuffling as students gathered their things and moved to new seats. Joki moved to a desk at the front of the room slowly and with an increasing feeling of dread, supporting Regriam with an arm around her small shoulders.

The next few hours were like a bad dream. Snape ordered Drith, of all people, to take Regriam to the hospital wing. Joki was still fuming from the cruel irony when the Professor ordered the students to each take a vial from his desk and drink the contents. Memories of another potion and lavender light made Joki hesitate, while the other students promptly obeyed.

“Is there a problem, Miss Wilde?” Snape sneered from the front of the room, pointing to the door. “Make your choice, you are holding up the class.”

Slowly, Joki lifted the vial to her lips and drank.

“Finally. Now, you all have one hour to prepare the antidote. I suggest you hurry.”

There was a brief pause of surprise, then a bustle of activity. Some students, such as Seville and Marner, had come prepared. Others, like Knuck, had come intending to experiment. Joki, due to the day’s events, had come only with a small bundle of hard-earned ingredients intended for a much different occasion. There wasn’t much time to consider the ramifications of what she was about to do- the poison was already assaulting her system. She took the parcel from her pocket and opened it on the desk in front of her, sheltering the ingredients with her hands and body.

Trying to ignore the ever-sharpening pains in her stomach, she agonized over the amounts of each ingredient before dropping them into the cauldron. Hair, blood, teeth, wormwood, skeletal dust . . . ingredients for a recipe she hadn’t planned on attempting for quite a while. When she was as certain as she could be that the proportions were correct, she hastily swept the remainder of the ingredients back into the paper wrapping and bundled it into her pocket.

The potion bubbled and hissed, taking on a muddy hue. A stench like rotting corpses rose from the uninviting liquid. Joki let it simmer as long as she could, before fumbling for the empty phial that had held Snape’s potion and filling it from the cauldron. By the time Snape got to her, Joki’s bottom lip was bleeding. She had sunk her teeth into it to keep from crying out, the pains in her stomach had grown so severe.

“Wilde!” Snape suddenly stood at her desk, looking almost alarmed. Joki hauled herself to her feet, staggering. “Your antidote?”

Holding the vial out to him, Joki grabbed the side of the desk to keep from falling. Her vision blurred and the room tilted crazily. Blinking, she tried to focus on Snape as he peered into her cauldron. He sniffed the mixture, and then gave Joki a keen and penetrating glance. To Joki, it seemed like hours before he spoke. “Well, try it.”

Without hesitation Joki drank the vial of potion, gagging at the rotten taste. Almost immediately she felt relief, coupled with elation. Finally she had done something right. Snape watched her with surprise and the faintest hint of approval lurking behind his sneer. His next words brought the first surge of pride Joki had felt in a long, long time. “Ten points to Slytherin, for daring and finesse.” Leaning in, he continued in a voice only Joki could hear. “Welcome to Hogwarts, Miss Wilde.”

As soon as Snape moved on to another student, Joki emptied her cauldron and scrubbed it out. In spite of Snape’s praise, she preferred not to leave any souvenirs behind. Busy with the one student who remained after Joki, Snape dismissed her and even voiced appreciation for her clean-up measures. The praise left a warm feeling in her stomach, but she had not forgotten Regriam.

She bolted to the Hospital wing, pushing aside anyone who got in her way. After some persuasion and pleading, Pomfrey relented and directed Joki to Regriam’s bed. Silently Joki walked to the bedside, looking down at Regriam’s small, tortured form. The younger girl stirred in her sleep, a piteous moan escaping from her lips. The sound went through Joki like a knife. Sitting on the bed, she carefully pulled Regriam into her arms. One furious thought thundered through her mind as Regriam clung to her unconsciously:

“Whatever it takes . . . I will succeed.”

_________________
"We are not bound forever to the circles of the world, and beyond them is more than memory."

She could feel death. Like the chill of winter it stole into her bones, draining her a little every day. The outward signs were few. Her eyes were a little too bright. Her face a little too gaunt. Most people rarely saw far enough past her vibrant hair and the ever-increasing number of piercings in her face and ears to notice. But there was one person she never could deceive.

Joki and Creed had spoken little since Creed's return from Germany. When she sent the message asking him to come, she had little hope that he would answer. But now he stood at her side, at the edge of the forest.

"Do you have some time? This may take a while." She spoke without looking at him, her voice low and dull.

"You have, and have always had, as much of my time as you want." He answered lightly, but his tone was warm and sincere.

Turning her face toward him, Joki gave a faint smile from the shadows of her hood. "Let's go, then."

They traveled in silence, to the place where Joki had been working for many nights. She paused with her hand on the door. "Don't hate me for this."

"Just open it." Creed replied evenly, still giving her the benefit of doubt. Joki nodded and pushed the door open, ushering him into her dark sanctuary. Creed's heavy footsteps echoed in the chamber. "My god, Joki." He took in the room swiftly, his breath rising in moist trails of vapor.

Joki turned her back to him, arranging the sheet around the still form on the table carefully. Creed's rage and horror were palpable in the moment of silence, so well Joki knew him. "I'm getting closer. I am! I know it. For so long I have labored without hope, but I finally got something right. I can do this. I can. I know it!" she said defensively.

Creed watched, unbelieving, as Joki turned back to the table and pulled the bloody sheet back from the cadaver's torso. "Joki! "What the hell are you doing?"

"Research."

"Resarch for what?"

"My life's work. You of all people should know."

Creed grabbed her arm and spun her around to face him, his large hands clamped painfully on her upper arms. "Look at me when I'm talking to you!" He shook her hard, his breath hot on her face. Joki flinched, but glared back at him defiantly. "This is your life's work? A huge, empty room and a corpse? Look around you, Joki! There is a DEAD PERSON on that table, picked apart by you! And they're still dead, just like Adam is still dead!"

"You think I don't KNOW that my brother is dead?" Joki yelled, her voice catching in agony, "You think I don't KNOW that I failed him, that I STILL fail him every fruitless night I spend down here with nothing but the sound of my own breathing to remind me that I'm alive? Why do you love hurting me so damn much?"

"I DON'T love hurting you! You love hurting yourself! I think you enjoy your suffering. It makes you feel closer to your brother, doesn't it? DOESN'T IT!" Creed roared, his face contorted with a furious pity that had been brewing for years.

"Somebody has to suffer! Somebody had to pay for the way he died!"Joki babbled hysterically, freezing tears on her cheeks. "It won't be Alexander, it won't be the kid who pushed him, but someone has to pay!"

"Do you really think he would have wanted this? To see you breaking your heart in this place for a twisted, impossible dream?" Creed softened his grip just enough. Planting her fists on his chest, Joki pushed away.

"I don't know," she replied, wiping her face roughly with her sleeve as she turned back to the table. Her fingers found the hem of the sheet and she rubbed the material between her fingertips feverishly. "I am beginning to forget him. How he looked, the sound of his voice, who he was to me.

"But it doesn't matter," she continued with dogged persistence, staring down at the body, "As soon as I find the way, nothing you say, nothing Seville says, none of it will matter."

_________________
"We are not bound forever to the circles of the world, and beyond them is more than memory."

“They can’t know where I’ve been. We’ll tell them I was here, that you were looking after me.” The torches in Joki’s dissection room were all out; the small fire burning in the incinerator was barely enough to make Aden’s face discernable as he spoke.

“Not here. We can tell them you’ve been anywhere else, but not here.” Turning her back to him, Joki lovingly arranged a row of large jars on a shelf. “They can’t know about this place.”

Wrapping his arms around her waist from behind, the man spoke into her ear. “You’re the reason I came back. I lived for you.”


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The tall wizard blocked the path from Hogsmeade. Everything about him spoke of violence; from his hidden face to the dark staff he carried. Joki could feel the hairs on the back of her neck rise, and was glad Brennan stood with her “Aden Brask is dead. I killed him,” she boldly lied, keeping her hands from shaking with a will.

“Do not lie to me! I do not sense his death within you.” A long, purple lock of hair slipped from beneath the wizard’s hood. Joki stiffened.

“What business have you with Aden Brask?”

With a swift movement the man parted the neck of his robes, revealing his bare torso. He was undead. “He did this to me.” Joki swallowed hard.

Moving close, she rested a hand on the man’s chest and whispered earnestly. “I can help you. I can give you ease. Harming Aden will not bring you peace.”

“I do not want peace!” the man snarled, throwing her off and closing his robes. “I want revenge.” And swiftly as he came, he was gone.

_________________
"We are not bound forever to the circles of the world, and beyond them is more than memory."