Author's Notes: OK, this is my first story, so it might not be written very well and isn't very long, but hey, that's where you come in! Please R&R!!! (If it is apparently good then I will continue.)

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters or places mentioned in this story, although some of the characters I have made up myself.

Albus stared into the gloom of the lonely corridor, his Father's 'invisibility cloak' smothering his body with the sticky hotness of the night. He began to walk swiftly, narrowly avoiding Peeves, the ghostly poltergeist of the school. It was almost impossible to see in the fog, and he tripped over often, occasionally waking paintings of famous wizards. He cursed in frustration, as he realised that he had completely forgotten where he had last seen him.

The 'him,' Albus wasn't exactly sure who, but all he knew was that they had been causing all this fog and heat.

His father had explained to him about dementors, of course, but this mystery couldn't possibly be being caused by one of them, because when they come near, everything goes cold and everyone's happiness is sucked away from them. Albus didn't feel unhappy, and he certainly didn't feel cold - only cautious and incredibly sweaty. . . But then - the fog. . .

He shook himself, as if the troubled thoughts could somehow fall out of his mind and onto the marble floor. A fair distance away, he heard the footsteps of his professors, for, they to, were attempting to uncover the mystery of the fog and heat. He glanced down at the Marauder's Map (which had been his grandfather's and father's) to see if any of them were approaching. They weren't, so, with a quick tap of his wand, (mischief managed!) he stuffed it into his trouser pocket and headed back to the Gryffindor common room.

His older brother, James, greeted him with an exasperated expression upon his face. He had been waiting for Albus, knowing that he had used the cloak that they had sworn not to wear unless in an emergency. As Albus recalled, he was still surprised at how serious and mature his brother had acted that day. It had scared him. Later he had made a joke about, only to receive a hard scold.

"Dad won't be happy with you," was all James said, a smirk playing across his lips.

"What do you mean?" Al asked, "I would expect he would be proud."

"What? That his favourite son is picking up the mantle of solving mysteries?" Al blushed furiously. He had always admired his father. Yet, now he frowned. There was something in his brother's eyes that was ever so daunting. It had been there ever since his first day at Hogwarts. That had been two years ago. Even Lily had noticed. The strangest thing was, was that whenever they went back home for the summer, James went back to normal and everything was okay. When Al or Lily ever asked him about it either at home or at school, the same result would always be a confused look or a cold stare.

It seemed that whenever James was as Hogwarts, his personality would change from the usual mischievousness to a strange Malfoy-like personality (As Albus liked to put it.)

"Well," Albus sighed, "I'm off to bed."

James watched him go, until he was finally alone, and was left to deal with a secret business of his own.

Albus finally collapsed on his bed, to find that his pitch-black shaded owl, Walters, had arrived back with a dead vermin pinched amongst his large beak. The owl hooted a welcome, before consulting to his meal. Throwing the invisibility cloak lazily into his open trunk, and then closing it with an outstretched foot, Albus sighed in contentment. For even if one was to have a dreadful day, Hogwarts' four posted beds never seemed to fail in making someone utterly relaxed.

He listened for a while to the hushed cracking of the mouse's bones and joints, before falling into a restless sleep.

Albus' dream was the same as it always was. He was looking down on a scene of him and his fellow class mates in a Care of Magical Creatures class with Hagrid.

He saw that Hagrid was in deep conversation with the class, or rather with himself, as hardly anybody was listening. Albus could see himself drawing a picture of a threstral, or, what he thought a threstral looked like in the margin of his school book. His best friend Eliza Hearting was staring at the drawing in a mystified manner and the rest of the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs were either picking at the grass or staring off into space.

Suddenly, a change fell upon the scene, and although Albus had had this dream many times before already, he couldn't help but be surprised.

He had felt a change, but as he looked down, he realised that everything and everyone was just as it was before, talking to self, drawing, being mystified, picking grass, staring into space and all.

He thought all too soon. A choking fog appeared abruptly, surrounding the unsuspecting class. It did not reach up far enough to come in contact the 'looking down on the scene' Albus, and if it had even done so, he doubted it would have done him any harm.

He soon heard choking and gasping, as the crowd slowly suffocated. The fog just got thicker and thicker.

Now Albus was beyond desperate. He tried to go down and help them, only to realise that he was nothing in his dream, and being nothing he could do nothing at all.

A silence fell upon everything. This was the part of the dream that Albus dreaded.

An eerie moan filled the air, and someone swiftly began to rise from the dense fog. It if could have, a shiver would have run down Albus' spine. But it couldn't. So all he could do was stare in horror. He realised that the figure was a ghost, a man, but a ghost.

The ghost began to move towards the castle, still moaning in that fearsome way. But then it stopped, and turned around to face Albus, before speeding towards him with a wand outdrawn that Albus knew could affect him.

Albus woke up gasping as he always did, to find that it was only fifteen minutes ago that he had fallen asleep. He groaned inwardly, before wiping the thin sheet of sweat that had developed on his face away. It was going to be a long night.