Propane Nightmares


Author's Note

Some of you might have already read this, for the first time. Some of you may be rereading this. Whichever route you're taking, I want to welcome you to Propane Nightmares, a Harry Potter Fanfic where my MC is an OC. I haven't done this in a while, but I do have one hell of an idea in mind. This chapter is only the beginning of a long story, one where the OC's appearance changes how things in the series.

As I just said, it's been a while since I've done anything in a fandom with a character of my own creation (where the MC's an OC). So this is something new for me.

This chapter has been revamped, given I hadn't liked what happened the last time around. I couldn't quite figure out where I wanted to go, so I redid it. It's largely the same, but there's more action. There's more movement. I like how this turned out and I do hope everyone who reads this will also like it. I'm enjoying where this going. I have ideas and thoughts and a general plan. So getting from Point A to Point B will certainily be one hell of a ride.

So, without further ado: Read, Enjoy, and Review.


Chapter One


Rain poured from the heavens, soaking anyone caught in its fury.

Nicki trudged through it, one arm wound around her middle as she staggered through the twisting alleyways. Her hair clung to her face and neck, her once-white camisole bleeding red. A trail of watery pink followed her, seemingly glowing with every intense, brilliant flash of lightning.

Slumping against a stone wall, she dragged in a ragged, uneven breath. She pressed against the weeping wound, almost screaming as pain seared through her body. Shoulders hunched, she forced in air through convulsing lungs. Somewhere in the distance, there was…something. Nicki looked up, her vision blurring as she pushed away from the wall. Cold and scared, she forced herself to take another step.

"Get that thing out of my face!"

Nicki staggered, ears ringing as the high-pitched voice carried through the rain.

She stumbled, hitting the ground as someone yelled, "I said shut up, Dudley! And don't talk about Cedric!"

"What was he?" The other boy was laughing, now. Nicki picked herself off the ground, slipping in the pools of blood spilling across the ground. Her clothing, torn and tattered, clung to her skin as the speaker yelled, "Your boyfriend?"

"I said shut up!"

She could see a distant light. Shapes were moving, blurring together as she made her way closer. Behind her was a trailing sense of desolation, of deathly cold. Nicki felt her eyes sting with tears, shuddering as she took another step. All around her was darkness, the lightning flashing in sharp bursts of light all around her. Before her, a shimmering portal of light.

Of release.

When she reached for it, fire consumed her and she screamed.

Exclamations cut through the air as arms caught her, her cheek pressing against a too-warm neck. Nicki grasped the shoulder of the person – a boy, she realized as their chests pressed together as she slumped into his hold – holding her up with trembling, bloody hands. Nicki shuddered, eyes half-lidded as she inhaled a scent of pine and smoke.

"Oh God!" Someone cried out. It wasn't the one holding her. Nicki's grasp weakened as the one holding her spat, "Dudley, shut up! Merlin, we need help."

"She's bleeding!"

"I said shut up!"

Coughing, fingers biting into a skinny shoulder, Nicki whispered, "Help me…"

Then there was an overwhelming sense of cold, of ice and depression and a loss of hope. From where she came, darkness pulsed. As her vision dimmed, she could see thousands of dark, fluttering shapes spiraling ever-closer. The one named Dudley went silent while the one she was leaning against sucked in a quick, sharp breath before he whispered, "Impossible…"

"What is that, Harry?"

Dudley's voice was a faint whisper, his words strained like he was having a hard time speaking. Nicki felt her body sinking, knees giving out as strong arms encircled her waist. As her head lulled, Harry hissed, "Nothing good, that's for sure! Come on, we can't stay here. Dudley, come on!"

The larger, pale-haired teen could only stare at the blood. Harry shot his cousin a harsh look, a sense of unease crawling through his skin as he adjusted the girl in his grasp. She was getting heavier, deadweight building as he took a step back. He could feel the coldness, flickers of green light flashing across his mind's eye, as he said, "Dudley, we gotta go now!"

He swung the girl up into his arms without missing a beat, ignoring the damp heat coating his shirt and skin. Dudley fled down the alleyway ahead of him, stumbling every few feet as the alley behind them grew darker and darker. The sky clouded over, the moon suddenly hidden behind a veil of silver and white. Fog rolled across the ground, their surroundings blurring like a vision hidden behind a veil of smoke. What little hope he had was draining, sucked from his body by invisible hooks.

Harry knew, then, that behind them were dementors.

Dudley led the way, turning this way and that. Harry hoped he knew where he was going. Behind them, the cold crept closer. Could they outrun a dementor? He doubted it, at this point. He and his cousin were running, fleeing through the alleyways with danger on their heel. Water splashed and rain poured, making it difficult to see where they were going. The dementors were flying after them, cloaks whirling around their bodies like puppets pulled through the air on strings.

When they reached another alleyway, a dementor dropped from the sky. Harry's heels bit into the ground, Dudley also coming to an abrupt halt as he stared at the dark-cloaked being. Yet this thing was different. It was covered in the same tattered clothing, hovering to-and-fro, yet its face was obscured by a mask of what appeared to be white bone. Harry felt his skin crawl as he saw what seemed to be blazing, silver-blue eyes peering out of the eyeholes as other, eyeless, masked dementors landed.

They were surrounded.

Harry swore. He twisted, ordering his cousin to take the girl. Dudley did so, dropping to the ground as his foot slid across the damp stones. Harry pulled out his wand, raising it so it pointed at the one with ice-cold eyes. Its gaze shifted from the girl to him, its form lowering until it touched the ground – even so, it towered over him. Harry stared, wide-eyed.

He didn't have time to scream or cry out a warning.

This silver-eyed dementor extended a hand and the rest swarmed. Harry didn't think. He swung his wand up in an arc as he yelled, "Expectro Patronum!"

His stag burst forth from the tip of his wand, galloping forth. Dementors scattered as it neared them, their dark forms fluttering up and away before looping back around to resume the onslaught. The stag circled, antlered head shaking to-and-fro in its run. Harry forced himself to relax, to calm down, as the stag pushed away the dark-natured creations.

The cold-eyed dementor slid out of its way as it charged, his silver-blue gaze tracking the ghostly, silvery creature's movements. Harry kept himself between the dementors and his cousin and the girl, shielding the two with wand, magic, and body. Part of him wondered if it was possible, to protect them, with the Dark creatures pressing upon them.

'Why are there dementors on Privet Drive?' Harry stepped back as the silver-eyed dementor made its way closer, ignoring the light-natured creature trying to force it away from the humans. It did not budge. A cold sweat coated Harry's skin, green eyes too bright. 'What is this thing? Dementors can't be near, not with my patronus out!'

It didn't seem to matter, now.

The silver-eyed dementor slowed as the stag charged, antlered head down. The black-cloaked finger threw up an arm, dark energy radiating out of it and tossing the stag across the stones. It dissipated bit-by-bit, parts of it fading from view every time it struck the ground. Harry felt a panicked cry rise in his throat, his eyes unnaturally wide as he staggered away from this creature, from this monster, that was steadily gaining ground.

"Harry!" His gaze snapped to the side, disbelief filling him as Mrs. Figg ran towards him. Several of her cats darted through the shadows, hissing and spitting as the dementors neared them. A young man was behind her, night clothes hanging loosely off his body as he flung up his own wand and summoned his patronus. A large, spiked lizard burst from the zip. "Harry, we must call for help. There's a spell. Daniela can keep the dementors at bay."

"His name's Daniela?"

"That's not important!"

Behind them, Dudley started babbling. Harry turned, green eyes wide as he saw the girl shift and heard her cough. Her eyes were beginning to flutter. He dropped to the ground next to her, tan hand pressing against her cheek as she stirred. Gunmetal-colored irises met Killing Curse green, confusion evident in her features as her lips parted.

She was trying to speak, but only blood oozed between pale lips. Mrs. Figg was kneeling down to them both in a heartbeat, bony hands prodding at the girl's body as she said, "Harry, you have to focus. We need to call for help. There's a spell I know that can help."

Harry stared at this old woman, choosing to ignore the felines rubbing against his legs as one headbutted his palm. He absently scratched it behind its ear as the girl's head lulled back, a film of gray beginning to cloud her eyes. Mrs. Figg smacked her cheeks, voice stern as she said, "Harry, child, she needs help now. Dudley, be a good lad and keep her propped up. Turn her – yes, like that. Now she won't chock on her own blood…"

This stranger, she was turned slightly onto her chest with her head pressed against his cousin's shoulder. Dudley was holding her up, pale as a new winter morning. Her body convulsed and blood splattered across the ground. As he rose to his feet, gaze shifting to the old woman, he said, "How do you know about magic, Mrs. Figg?"

"Because I'm a squib. Did no one tell you that?" Harry shook his head, mouth dry. She eyed him for a moment, expression unreadable. After a moment, she said, "The spell you want is Vacato Guardiam. The same feelings you use for your patronus will suffice. Aim at the sky and yell the incantation. Hurry, now!"

Harry's gaze shifted to the girl, body pale and loosing color. Red stained her mouth.

Vacato Guardiam.

The words echoed in his thoughts even as her eyes opened. He was lost in those eyes, sucked into a whirling vortex of pain and desperation and complete, utter confusion. He knew, then, that she needed their help. She needed his help. He whirled around, gaze on the dementors and the silver-eyed creature and the wizard battering them away with a sweat-soaked face. Then he saw his friends, in his mind's eye.

He heard their laughter. He saw Hermione sitting at the library table, quill in hand and brow furrowed as she worked on an essay. Ron was at a chess table, chin resting on his knuckles as he eyed the board. Neville was working with the plants in the greenhouse, smiling shyly. Then there was his Godfather's laughter, Remus's smiling eyes, the picture book of his parents….

Harry raised the wand and, in one deafening roar, screamed, "Vacato Guardiam!"