Whispers Turn to Screams

Water dripped from Hope's hair as she stumbled down the hall, shivering. Dragging her feet along the long rug that ran down the middle of the hall, she looked over her shoulder. Her eyes darted back and forth for any sign of movement as another sharp stab of pain entered behind her eyes.

Hope's breath hitched as she fought back a cry of pain, pressing her hands to the sides of her head. It was like someone had placed her head between a vice with constant pressure while occasionally hammering a nail skull.

Gritting her teeth, she numbly stumbled forward, trying to ignore the voices of the paintings hissing at her to 'stop making such a ruckus.'

That night, she'd explicitly remembered getting into bed between Albus and Newt and falling asleep fairly quickly. Yet, she'd become coherent while standing in the restricted section of the library soaking wet.

Mmmmmmmmmmmmm.

A strange humming vibrated somewhere in her head, making Hope lurch to her left. She pressed her hands against the wall as she sank to her knees. For a moment, she wondered if there was an earthquake, as everything seemed to shake around her, but none of the paintings fell. 

They didn't even rattle.

No, the quake was happening in her own head. With blurred vision, she drunkenly crawled to the nearest door she could find as hot tears stained her face. She couldn't see, she couldn't think. She could barely feel.

Her balance was nonexistent as if she had lost all equilibrium in her body.

Grabbing the door handle above, she pulled it open as well as she could and crawled into the little closet. Closing the door behind her, plunging her into darkness.

Hope gave a soft sigh of relief as she laid against the floor as best she could, pressing her cheek to the cold floor. With nothing to see, the world didn't spin as it had, letting her calm her body. She wasn't sure how long she lay there, but sleep soon came, and she willingly fell into its embrace.

Blinking her eyes, the line of light under the door was Hope's first sight. It was when she heard her name traveling down the hallway that she started to stir. Moving her head to the side, she groaned as her neck cracked audibly.

"Hope!" Newt's terrified voice came. 

How long had they been looking for her? 

Hope looked around the darkened room, slowly getting to her knees and then her feet. Part of her didn't want to open the door and let the light in, but it wasn't fair to not let them know she was safe.

Hand on the doorknob, she twisted and pushed. Cringing, she covered her eyes while they adjusted to the bright morning. When her eyes didn't feel like they'd been chemically burned, she took in her surroundings. The closet she'd taken shelter in was filled with various cleaning supplies and old broomsticks. Nothing out of the ordinary.

"Hope!" The voice seemed more distant now.

Sighing, she inched out into the hallway and looked left, then right. Professor McGonagall stood at the end to her right, but as Hope opened her mouth to speak, Minerva turned at the exact moment and gasped.

"I've found her!"

Distant footsteps echoed as she walked at a slow gait in their direction. Honestly, she could sleep another day and night and probably still be tired. Newt rounded the corner first, followed by Albus, who kept a safe distance. 

"Hey," Newt pulled her to him with a frown, looking her over, "where have you been?"

Hope cringed, the volume of his voice sending a booming thud through her ears. "The closet." She murmured, not quite looking at him. 

Newt frowned, rubbing her shoulders lightly. "Why were you in there?"

She gave a slight shrug.

"Hope," Albus offered as he stepped forward, "let's take a trip to the hospital wing. We can talk more there."

Hope followed them, vaguely hearing Minerva speaking to Albus behind her.

"The entire Prefect's bathroom is flooded, Albus. I thought it was Peeves at first, but…" she trailed off, and Hope could feel her eyes on her back. Hope glanced down at her stringy hair, which she remembered was soaking wet just a few hours earlier, was still damp. Had she really flooded the Prefect's bathroom?

The grueling steps it took to get to the hospital wing left Hope internally begging for a rest. She felt more like a sloth, only able to move slowly. Like being so sleep-deprived, everything begins looking distorted and doesn't make sense even though it should.

The bench they passed in the hallway should make sense, but Hope could only stare at it in confusion. Wondering why a bench would be there to take up space.

Hope said nothing as she entered the long room and crawled onto the nearest bed. The moment her head touched the pillow, she could feel herself start to fall under again.

"Hope," Newt murmured, sitting on a chair beside her bed. He ran his fingers through her hair, making her eyes flutter open to see him watching her with worried eyes. "Do you remember anything about last night?"

"I'm tired." She answered under her breath, her eyes starting to close again.

Somewhere in the room, someone said, "Let her sleep."

When Hope woke again, it felt like someone had stuffed dry cotton in her mouth. The clock ticked, the fire crackled in the hearth, and soft whispers in the corner brought her back to reality. Slowly sitting up, she took in the room. It was night again.

Had she slept the whole day?

"Hey," Newt smiled as he came into view, walking away from Albus and Madam Florence, "here." He offered her a glass of clear liquid that Hope assumed was water. She took it and drank it in a few quick gulps, taking a shuddering breath at the sudden change in temperature in her body.

Newt stroked her cheek lightly with the back of his fingers. "You've been asleep for a long time. You haven't moved since, though."

Nodding, her gaze drifted to the nightstand where another glass sat. Only this one was filled with a dark red color.

He seemed to notice her line of sight and reached over, taking the glass of blood and offering it to her. "We thought you might crave this." 

Hope was very aware of everyone in the room watching her drink the blood, but she just didn't care. When she drained the last drop, she returned the glass to Newt and leaned back against her pillow. Her thoughts were covered in a filmy haze, making it difficult to focus on more than one thing at a time.

"Hope?" Albus asked softly as he sat in the chair on the other side of her bed opposite Newt.

Slowly, she looked over at him.

"You were sleepwalking again." He said matter of factly. 

Hope nodded. She knew she had; she just didn't understand why.

Furrowing his brows, he watched her with careful eyes. "Do you remember anything from last night?"

Traveling back in her memory, Hope recalled only a little. "I woke up in the library," she paused, "I…was wet. It was cold. I started walking to-," she glanced over to see Madam Florence listening intently, "my room. This," she paused, closing her eyes as she tried to recall why she had to stop walking, "this…ringing in my ears. A hum, like a jet engine in my head. I couldn't walk. I kept falling over. That's when I found the closet." She looked over at Albus again. "I fell asleep in the closet. I felt drunk without being drunk."

Silence fell like snow.

"It's him," Hope whispered, "he hums in my head."