Somewhere Between Heaven And Hell

*DISCLAIMER*

J.K. Rowling’s characters and their world belong to her and her affiliates alone. I like to pretend their real because I am sick, depraved, and have no life.

My character(s) and their life belong to me and I can do whatever the hell I want to them. I also can do things to Rowling’s characters. *Rubs hands together and grins in wanton abandon*

I’m not making any money off this, but I am getting my jollies.

Thanks to SnapesPet for the wonderful review! I love reviews, *Strokes self and purrs*

Okay, and here is chapter four and Phoenixx is finally introduced to the Wonderful World of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

***Forsaken***

The next several days were a blur to Phoenixx. She aimlessly wandered London, lost and confused. On the good days she sometimes slept in a dirty, seedy room she managed to rent; on the others, under bridges and on park benches when the police didn’t chase her away. She barely ate one meal a day and her appearance suffered as a result. Her clothes were torn and ragged, her normally lustrous hair a disheveled, tangled mess. Her dirt streaked face revealed eyes of a hollow, flaccid individual, a lost soul. Phoenixx was a shadow of the young woman she used to be. As a result of the traumatic and unnerving events that had brought Phoenixx up to this point, she no longer questioned her sanity. She had accepted the inevitable; she WAS really insane, full of false hopes and memories. She had imagined the entire ordeal of the accident, and possibly her entire life. What the hell was wrong with her? Phoenixx came to the point where she no longer cared if she lived or died. She lived these days of her life precariously, either in a wobbled, drunken haze, or drugged and fully unaware of the situation. Phoenixx lost her will to live and in her sober moments contemplated suicide endlessly.

Days, possibly weeks had passed since Phoenixx had fled Murdock’s Center. She had no idea and she didn’t care either. She lived for her next bottle, or possibly her next hit, if she was lucky. The money eventually had dwindled to nothing, and Phoenixx resorted to unmentionable acts to gain the release she so desperately sought to ease her pain, in the form of the bottle or even better, the syringe.

Her body lifeless, her dead eyes staring upward, Phoenixx’s mind and thoughts blocked out the events that were occurring to her at this moment as some grotesque, seedy character thrust over and over again into her forsaken body for his own self gratification in exchange for her next hit of release.

“Inside myself I’m slowly dying,
soon I know my last breath I’ll be sighing.
For I don’t have the power to go on,
Because in this life I am just a pawn…”
Copyright 1998, Chantel L. Fain


As Phoenixx continued to lay motionless beneath the sweaty, vulgar man while he huffed and puffed away, a flash of a familiar face struck her mind and filled her memory…Chevill… Chevill’s beautiful, smiling face. “Chevill,” she mouthed, “my sister!” That memory conjured more feeling in Phoenixx than she had had in a long time. In that instant her self pity left her and a surge of deadly anger coursed through her body. In a split-second the one atop her flew off through the air and a considerable distance later was bashed against the hard concrete wall. His unconscious, limp body crumpled to the ground in a sickening thud, his horrid trousers still down below his knees, his own juices spilt upon his thighs.

Phoenixx had no idea was had just occurred. She was utterly and completely confused, and pulling her clothes up and around her in a more proper manner, sunk down to her knees and began to cry unceasingly.


Hagrid hurried through the abandoned streets, making his way towards Diagon alley for he needed to obtain flesh-eating slug repellant which could only be found in the decrepit bowels of Knockturn Alley. As he shuffled towards his destination he noticed a strange obscure flash of light in the alley across him. Strange, he thought to himself. Magic isn’t allowed outside the Wizarding World. The large form’s curiosity got the better of him and he decided to investigate. Turning the bend, the half-giant gasped at the sight that met his eyes. Kneeling on the ground sobbing was a young witch, (or assumed so given he had witnessed the use of magic earlier,) a young witch who was trembling and scared, torn muggle clothes hanging limply on her skeletal frame. Dark circles under her wild eyes and hollowed cheeks told Hagrid of the state of malnourishment and possible sickness she was in. Her dirty face was streaked with tears of anguish, her matted hair a disheveled mass. Out of the corner of his eye, Hagrid observed the crumpled body of the muggle man who just a few moments ago had been thrusting his depraved member into the young woman. The man’s rising chest indicated he was still alive, although in arm was twisted in position most unnatural, and blood leaked from the corner of his mouth. Ignoring the man, Hagrid slowly advanced on the unaware young woman.

Stepping closer, Hagrid’s hand went out to reach her, in comfort. “There, there, it’ll be all right,” Hagrid tried to soothe the girl. Phoenixx looked up in a start at the strange, large bearded form with wild, bushy hair. Before Hagrid could say another word, the girl fainted and crumpled to the ground below him in a state of shock.

Hagrid, the gentle half-giant and Professor of the Care of Magical Creatures at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, kneeled and picked up the pitiful thing before him. Covering her limp body with his immense hairy coat, he chortled, “It’ll be all right, I’m gonna take care of yeh.” Hagrid, ever the chivalrous, was determined to ensure the young woman’s well being; flesh-eating slug repellant was the now the last priority on Hagrid’s mind. Hagrid decided to take the young witch to the only man he respected and trusted, the only man he believed to truly have confidence in him when no other had, famous wizard and beloved friend, no other than Albus Dumbledore. “He’ll know what ter do, great man Albus Dumbledore,” muttered Hagrid under his breath as he picked up the extremely light young woman and carried her in his arms. “Even if she did use magic outside the wizardn’ world, she did it for’a reason, I can’t leave her be.”

Hagrid had made his way to Diagon Alley on the train commonly used by muggles, but had enough sense to know it would look mighty suspicious with him carrying an unconscious girl and all. He decided to take his changes and continue to Diagon Alley, bypassing Knockturn of course, and make use of the fireplace in the Leaky Cauldron. “Outter the way,” he mumbled, while the limp girl drew stares from onlookers. “Hagrid,” began the wide-eyed bartender, but was interrupted by an on-purpose Hagrid. “Not now Tom, Hogwarts business,” he slightly lied. “I need ter use yer fireplace…” “Of course, Hagrid, of course, go ahead then,” he replied while stealing looks at the forlorn girl who was limp in Hagrid’s arms. “Is she…” Began Tom. “No, not yet anyway,” Hagrid interrupted gruffly. He had no desire to stay and chitchat. He’d send someone to take care of that horrid muggle man later, for now he could just suffer. Serves ‘em right thought Hagrid to himself.

Hagrid very rarely traveled by the use of floo powder, but today he would just have to make an exception, no matter how distasteful he found it to be. Without another backward glance, he stepped into the fireplace and holding the girl in one arm, he threw down a generous amount of floo powder, and stated firmly, “HOME.” After a flash of green light ensued, they disappeared.


Hagrid stepped out of his fireplace, sputtering and coughing, knocking his head on the cauldron. He proceeded further into his warm hut and laid the unconscious girl on his bed. “It’ll be alright,” he soothed the unaware girl. As Fang whined in curiosity and frustration, Hagrid hushed his dog. Brushing away some of the young woman’s matted hair from her dirty face, Hagrid’s heart tore with pity at the sight of her depraved body, every inch abused and neglected. It seemed she had some old injuries as well that hadn’t healed quite right.

Lifting a ladle full of cold water, Hagrid held the girl’s head up with one massive hand and poured the sparkling liquid upon her parched lips. Although most of it spilt, some managed to trickle down her throat and Phoenixx stirred in response to the liquid her body had been depraved of. Removing a towel from the drawer opposite the large bed, Hagrid heated a small amount of water and doused the towel in it. After wringing away any excess moisture, Hagrid gently cleaned the girls face, neck, and arms of any dirt and grime. After several minutes of wringing the filthy water out and immersing it in clean, Hagrid noticed that underneath all that grime was actually a very pretty girl and he noted if she wasn’t so malnourished she could in fact be very attractive. After covering up the girl with a heavy quilt, Hagrid decided it was time to inform the headmaster and he hurriedly made his way to the castle entrance.