This is not my normal writing style, so please let me know what you think of it. Also, though I can't promise frequent updates, all of them will be at least 1000 words. And no, I won't kill Harry off.

Sure, I own HP. The fact I haven't left High School yet has no bearings on this fact. Whatever.


Harry Potter
"Stay here. I will see what the trouble is." I started, spinning around to face the new professor. The man stood tall, with something in his eyes and posture that belied the shabby clothes. He had appeared tense even in his sleep, if oddly vulnerable. But now his eyes flickered warily around the compartment, his back held straight even as his shoulders hunched, as though he was trying to make himself as small a target as possible. He left the compartment- not stalking as such, but with a predatory grace that made me move back slightly.

It wasn't that I thought he would hurt me, but rather that my life so far had given me the ability to sense danger. Ten years as the neighborhood punch-bag and another two as Voldemorts' arch-enemy does that to you. I'd learnt to act on instinct, to decide between running and fighting in a millisecond. I had the bravery of a Gryffindor, but it was tempered by my Slytherin self-preservation skills.

Now my instinct was telling me this man was dangerous, so I listened. It didn't help that our previous Defense instructors had been less than savory. But despite this warning, I didn't pay that much attention to him. My attention was elsewhere.

A dark fog had wriggled its way under the door, and it carried with it a feel of such despair that I nearly broke down and cried. It dragged at my spirit, clogging the few windows that allowed light to shine through to my soul. I lay hopeless in darkness, head spinning. I hated being hopeless! I forced my back straight even as my legs collapsed.
Then came the scream.

The dank fog wrapped around me, suffocating, drowning me in a cold sea. It pulled me down into the darkness, until I was floating in nothingness. Dread suffused my entire being. I was so cold that it felt like I was burning, that odd extremity of temperature that makes polar opposites seem the same. I couldn't decide whether I was struggling in fire or ice. My limbs were lead.

The scream was back again, and it felt like I should recognize the voice, but couldn't. It was a half-remembered memory, hanging tantalizingly just out of reach, like a carrot dangled before a donkey. I strained to get to it. Not knowing exactly what 'it' was, just that, somehow, 'it' was important.

Then my world backed up and my breath caught as someone so like me he was obviously my father swam into view. I wanted to reach out, touch him, but the body I was in wasn't mine. Well, it was, but it wasn't. A few seconds later I realized it was naught but a memory.

There was a knocking sound that caused my memory-self to blink. When I opened them again I noticed at once that something was different. My fathers' face was contorted in worry, which morphed into terror as a manic chortle tore through the house. It soon became apparent just which memory this was.

I could do nothing but hang there and listen as my parents died before my disbelieving eyes and ears. I watched as first my father, then my mother, sacrificed themselves for me. As Dad told Mum to take me and go, then placed himself between us and Voldemort, giving his life for his family. I could do nothing but watch as the Dark Lord killed my mother even as she begged for my life. In an abstract kind of way I wondered why he didn't just kill her at once- but it didn't matter. She was dead. Her life given to save mine. Guilt invaded my being, worming its way into my very soul. It was my fault she died. She didn't have to. But she did. For me.

All the while that horrible cloying presence stayed. Some sense of panic kicked my preservation instincts into action. The warning was so faint many wouldn't have noticed it. However, to me that was yet another cause for fear- why wasn't my brain working properly? It felt like my consciousness was separated from everything else. Including my instincts.
That thought alone was enough to cause me to pry my lids open.

I jerked back as the first thing I saw l was skeleton jaw just about to clamp on my mouth.
This time the scream was my own.

Remus Lupin
Remus allowed his superior lupine instincts to take over as he left the compartment. He slowly glided along the corridor, directing his silvery Patronus. Amber eyes moved smoothly but swiftly, ensuring that nothing dangerous was in the immediate view. Usually he would have relied on his keener senses- those of sound and smell -to check, but Dementors were silent and their scent was only useful when determining around a hundred meter area that they could be in. Besides, he did not wish to breathe in any more of that horror than necessary.

Assured that none of the vile creatures remained on this area of the train, he turned to make his way back. This time he stopped by the various clusters of terrified children to hand out comfort and chocolate. Some accepted at once, but the greater portion watched him with wide, slightly fearful eyes. It was only natural, he supposed, that the Dementors' aura would have left then scared and insecure. Still, it hurt. He was used to people giving him such looks when they discovered he was a Were. There was the distrust. The fear. It made him want to run, tail between his legs. But he was an Omega, a loner, independent.

He slowly made worked back to his original compartment, keeping up the steady stream of reassurance. Finally arriving, he prepared to let out a relieved sigh. That quickly turned into a howl at the scene revealed as he slid the door open.

A tall black figure was framed by what little light still came through the window. It was a single silhouette against the unearthly mists swirling about the enclosed space. It took all of a second for him to realize that the Dementor was not, in fact, alone. Crouched back in his seat, green orbs filled with terror, mouth open in a silent scream. Harry. His best friends' son.

The cloaked creature leaned forward, lowering his hood. The thing underneath could barely be called a head. It was some awful dark parody of a skull, a mass of solid shadows. Like any wolf, Remus had a good sense of when to run and when to fight. This was screaming at him to run.

Then the jaw lowered. The monster leaned forward, over the boy, to caress his lips in a horrifying mockery of a lovers kiss.
"Expecto Patronum!" Remus yelled, eyes wild. It was a harsh sound, tainted with anger and despair. A doe leapt out of the end of his wand- a doe after his first true friend, Lily. Never a wolf. A Patronus represented safety and joy, not madness and pain.
The doe raced forward, quick and lithe as a cheetah hunting prey. The Dementor fled- too late.

Harry fell back, eyes unseeing.

AN) i told you I wouldn't kill him! This isn't death. It's a fate worse than death. *Evil laugh*.
Next update after at least ten reviews. Please? Pretty please? Yeah, I know I'm shameless.