The Madness Within: A Harry Potter FanFiction

Chapter I

A year had passed since Lana was freed from the other world. For a few months, she’d stayed in Britain, but found herself longing to go home—New York.

            She’d been already having the nightmares then, but not as bad. They weren’t so terrifying as to make her scream and thrash around in her sleep. It was only after she met Rae and Sawyer that they gradually became worse.

            Lana met Rae Quinn Nora in a wizarding ice cream shop in New York. The two hit it off immediately, and a little while later they moved into an apartment together with Sawyer Henry, Rae’s close friend. The three of them were all to be attending the Wizarding University of New York.

            The university was a school similar to Hogwarts, but for witches and wizards who needed a higher level education for their chosen careers. It was Sawyer who introduced Lana to the school—she was already attending classes to become a Magizoologist. Since then, Lana had decided she wanted to become an Auror, as that seemed like the only type of job Sirius had prepared her for.

            The school itself was located inside Grand Central Station, hidden by powerful protection spells. All one needed to do was walk through a brick wall in a far corner of the grand hall. Inside, the school was full of antsy students practicing anything and everything magical.

            Lana’s days consisted of long lectures on the criminal mind and wandless magic lessons and tracking techniques. As she made her way through the milky white hallways, snaking through the crowds, she slipped into a corduroy jacket, pulled on fuzzy purple mittens and a striped toque and flung a messenger back over her shoulder.

            The school was far behind her, and soon she was on a train to Brooklyn, sitting cross-legged against the window with her face buried in a textbook on defensive magic. The car was mostly empty, as always, since rush hour had long past and most people had already gone home or were still out partying amidst the crowds of the city.

            She quickly became aware that she was being watched.

            Lana glanced up, spotting a boy across from her staring at her. He was tall with a mass of dark blonde hair and brown eyes set in a handsome face. The corner of his mouth perked up a bit as their eyes connected, and Lana shut the textbook and said slowly, “Is there something you need?”

            “Not in particular,” he replied, “Sorry if I was staring. It’s just funny.”

            “Funny?” she repeated, an eyebrow quirking up.

            “That’s not what I meant,” he said, standing and grabbing hold of the metal pole in the center of the train car to keep himself balanced. “What I meant was that you’re funny.”

            “How is that?”

            “You’re hunched over that book so much that I can barely see your head,” he replied.

            Suddenly self-conscious, Lana straightened. “Am not.”

            “Are too,” he said, “And another thing—I see you every day on this train and I’ve never once heard your name.”

            Lana paused. “You’re on this train every day?”

            “And every day you sit there, hunched over your silly little textbooks.”

            “My textbooks are not silly,” she said defensively, hugging it closer. “And it’s Lana.”

            “Do I get a last name?” he asked.

            “Not until I get a first name,” she replied.

            He grinned. “David. David Clemons. Now it’s your turn.”

            “Lana Herondale.” She watched as he held out a hand for her to shake, but didn’t take it.

            “What, are you a germaphobe?” he asked, not taking back his hand.

            “No, I just don’t trust strange men I meet on the subway,” Lana replied.

            “Fair enough,” he said, finally pulling away. “Maybe if you met me somewhere other than the subway I could get you to trust me.”

            “Depends on the place.” Lana took out her messenger bag and put the textbook inside it.

            “How about you give me your number and we’ll figure out a place,” he suggested.

            Lana laughed. “I don’t think so.”

            He leaned back and held out his arms. “How can you not want to get to know this?”

            “It’s not so difficult.”

            “Come on,” he said, “One date. That’s all I ask.”

            “Who says I don’t already have a boyfriend?”

            “Do you?”

            Lana hesitated. “No.”

            “One date,” he repeated, “And if it’s the worst date of your life, I’ll never bug you again.”

            “Fine,” she agreed, “But I pick the place.”

            “Alright, just give me your number—”

            “I want your number,” Lana interrupted, “I’d rather not take my chances and wind up with a psycho calling me every five minutes.”

            “How do I know you’re not the psycho?”

            Lana smiled cutely. “Do I look psychotic to you?”

            He laughed. Somewhere in the back of her mind the laugh sounded familiar, and her heart began to ache as she realized it was Sirius’s laugh. The next thing she knew, he was holding out what was once the corner of a piece of paper with a set of numbers scrawled across it sloppily.

            “Call me,” he said, and the subway stopped, the doors slid open, and he hopped out, his hands in his pockets, and disappeared.