Ginny Weasley sat in an unused classroom, terrified out of her mind. She had just regained consciousness less than an hour prior after another blackout period and was trying to figure out how much time she had mysteriously lost again.
The first time was scary enough, now the poor girl was beginning to doubt her own sanity. Was something wrong with her? Was she cursed or just crazy? A sob escaped her lips despite her best attempts to hold it in. She had thought about going to her brothers but… they always seemed so busy and she had no intention on having them look at her like she was evil.
After all she had woken up with blood on her hands, what other explanation could there be? Along with this her waking behavior was suffering as well. She was moody, even more so than usual, tired, stressed, and simply unpleasant to be around. That had been more than a little obvious when the few friends it almost seemed like she had made had begun avoiding her when possible.
Not that she blamed them. Now more than ever she desperately wished she could reach out to her former best friend Luna. Unfortunately the blonde had been sorted into Ravenclaw, and had been difficult to locate anytime they were not in the same class together.
The fact that Ron was always muttering demeaning things about the other Houses did not help either. Sure Luna and her had been close but… Ron was family, and that was more important… right?
Regardless the only highlight of her day was 'Tom'. He listened to her, spoke with her, and encouraged her.
If only he knew what was happening to her.
If only someone could save her from whatever was happening.
If only a certain raven-haired boy would glance in her direction.
...
"Pathetic… you are pathetic…" a choked voice whispered as a young girl sat crying in a bathroom stall. "Still running off to hide and cry… still not good enough, still not…"
A knock on the door ripped the bushy-haired witch out of her self-pity. "O-occupied!"
"Oh I know, I was just making sure this was the right one."
Hermione Granger froze in fear, the voice that had answered was male . Was it someone come to torment her in the last place she could find refuge? Was it whoever had been responsible for the attack? Was she next?
"W-who…"
"Do you know what a Masquerade Ball is?"
"Wh-what?"
"A Masquerade Ball, it is a Muggle party in which the attendees all wear these silly little masks. Quite an interesting concept no?"
"I… I don't understand."
"It really is quite ridiculous," the boy continued, "I mean if you truly think about it a tiny mask will never hide anyone's identity. Imagine if you lived next door to a woman with beautiful bright red hair, and then when you went to this party you saw the same hair. Obviously you would know it is her, even if the outfit is different, and perhaps she has wrapped it into a bun rather than letting it flow, you would know it is the same person just by that." the boy paused, and Hermione began to try and figure out who could be speaking to her… and why they would be doing so.
"I think…" he called out once more, "that it is the idea of being anonymous. Sure you might be able to figure out who hides behind the mask but… you can never be one hundred percent certain. There will always be the shadow of doubt in your mind. Perhaps they are purposefully talking like someone else. Perhaps they are wearing a wig or dyed their hair. Maybe their shoes are raised without you realizing it. For instance you might be able to guess who I am by my voice but who knows how the acoustics of the room can change it. Much like singing in a shower. Perhaps the door itself is altering the tone just enough that I could be someone different than you might think, just as you may be someone else as well… quite interesting is it not?"
Now she understood, he was giving her a way of remaining anonymous. Two strangers talking without knowing anything else about one another.
It was oddly comforting in a sense.
"So tell me my dear… how are you liking Hogwarts?"
Hermione didn't know whether to laugh or cry. It was possibly the first normal conversation she had been in since starting Hogwarts… last year and they were having it in the girl's bathroom.
"It has been rough. The others can be mean… cruel…"
"The other students."
"Yes."
"In your house or in others?"
"All of them, Purebloods all seem to have friends already, while I…" she trailed off, not knowing how much she should reveal.
"Have trouble, since no one cares about seeing the real you."
"No one cares at all, not the students, not the teachers, not my parents NO ONE!" and just like that she broke down, no longer caring about who heard her sobs. After a few minutes the bushy-haired girl managed to calm herself.
It was silent though, had he left? Had she scared away the one person who, for a brief moment, seemed to care about her?
"H-Har…"
"Just wanting to make sure you got it all out of your system my dear, here try this." A hand emerged from under the door, holding what appeared to be a black handkerchief.
Reaching forward she grabbed the offered cloth, only for the boy to hold on and stroke her hand with his finger before letting go. Pulling her hand back the girl fought against the blush consuming her face.
"Unfortunately it is nearing time for our next class my dear, we will have to continue this another time."
"Wait! What is your name… I mean what can I call you?"
"How about… Mr. Rochester… my dear Miss Eyre."
...
"Albus, we have just discovered another petrified victim."
The old man seemed to age another dozen years before McGonagall's eyes as he slumped down into his chair, "Who?"
"Mr. Creevy, a first year Gryffindor."
"Another who is Muggle-born if I remember correctly."
The woman nodded.
"Miss Tonks?"
"She is on the scene Albus, I can't help but feel we are barely avoiding a catastrophe. One student at a time, and only petrification."
"I agree Minerva, hopefully this will convince the Wizengamot to allow a full Auror investigation but…"
"But they are not Purebloods… which means it is doubtful."
"Unfortunately, I can only hope they will see reason before it is too late."
"Me too Albus… me too."
....
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