AN: All rights belong to the majestic madame Rowling and Warner Bros. Entertainment

Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban- Chapter 5: The Dementor

Remus Lupin's POV…

Remus Lupin arrived at King's Cross at 10:30 AM, thirty minutes before the train was to leave for Hogwarts, not because he was particularly punctual, but because he knew how quickly it filled up with students; he was tired after that last moon cycle, and he wanted a quiet compartment. He loaded his ragged trunk onto a cart and went through the barrier between platforms nine and ten, emerging on platform 9 ¾, where he saw a bright burgundy train spewing smoke onto the platform, just having arrived to start collecting students for the new term. Remus was the first one on the train, and had his pick of the compartments, so he went all the way to the end of the train, shoved his trunk in the overhead compartment, and promptly fell asleep with his head against the window.

When he next woke, he didn't open his eyes, just listened to the rumble of the train and caught a snippet of a conversation.

"... wasn't supposed to be using Errol. You know he's not really up for long journeys… but how else was I supposed to get Harry's present to him?" The speaker was a boy, who was whispering loudly over a shrill whistling.

"Stick it back in the trunk," another boy said, "or it'll wake him up." The whistling suddenly was muffled and Remus quickly fell back asleep.

An angry yell woke him next, followed by a brush of fur against his leg, "Get out of here!"

"Ron, don't!" said a girl angrily.

He shifted, and the frustrated voices stopped immediately, watching him. Unconcerned, he turned his head, eyes still closed, and went back to sleep.

The next time he became aware of his surroundings he heard the other occupants talking loudly again but as he listened closer he realized they were emitting yells of panic and alarm.

"I'm going to go and ask the driver what's going on," said the girl, and Remus heard the door open again, then she squealed in pain.

"Who's that?"

"Who's that?"

"Ginny?"

"Hermione?"

Remus heard their bickering as if through water, he just realized that the compartment was very cold, and when he opened his eyes he saw there was frost on the window and his breath made puffs of steam when he breathed out. The lights suddenly flickered out, and, he felt with growing suspicion, the floor was not vibrating, meaning the train was stopped.

His concerns rising, Remus finally sat up and said, "Quiet!" his voice hoarse from lack of use and just a bit sharper than he intended.

The car went deadly silent. Remus slowly unfolded himself from the cramped sitting position he had slouched into and stood up. Still no one moved. Salvus Inflamare, he thought in his head, and small flames ignited in his palm, which he held it out, surveying the room. There were five students in the room, their faces blurred in the dark, all looking at him with wide eyes that reflected the fire in his hand.

"Stay where you are," his voice was still hoarse, but the students didn't waiver. He stepped forward, holding the flames out like a torch, reaching with his other hand for the compartment door, but it slid open before he touched it. Behind it floated a dementor. His stomach twisted in disgust, both for the creature itself and what it was hunting. The students had clearly never seen a dementor before, and to add to the terror they must have been feeling, Remus spotted a rotting hand slip back under it's encompassing cloak. Then the dementor took a breath, and Remus felt the unpleasant cold wash over him, filling him with sorrow, pulling forth memories, the worst memories, forcing him to relive that warm Halloween that would forever give him chills, dementors or not. He looked quickly at the other occupants, they stood shocked and terrified and the smaller girl whimpered and shrank into the corner. One of the boys however, gasped as the cold floated through him, went rigid, then slipped onto the floor, shaking and twitching. Remus took a breath and pushed the memories away, then stepping over the boy on the floor and holding his wand aloft, he addressed the dementor,

"None of us is hiding Sirius Black under our cloaks. Go!" But the dementor didn't move, so, thinking of the happiest memory that would spring to mind, he muttered,

"Expecto Patronum" The patronus wasn't corporeal, but it didn't need to be, the whisper of a wolf was visible to his trained eye as it chased the dementor out of the doorway. The dementor glided away, it's torn cloak rippling as if it was moving through water instead of air. Their compartment must have been the last to be searched, because a few moments later the lights burst back into life and the train started a slow crawl back up to speed.

Remus took the last step forward, closing the compartment door and turning to the students who were sitting shivering and looking dazedly up at him. He bent to help a tall red-haired boy pick up his friend who had collapsed, sitting him in a seat while his other friend, the older girl, picked up the boy's glasses off the floor before they were stepped on.

Remus felt his heart crank to a halt in his chest. James. James was slouched in the seat opposite him. Was it really James? Everything was recognizable, from the messy jet black hair to the lanky frame. Remus's breath let out in a small puff, but he couldn't take another one. He was staring at the unconscious boy, this apparition, sitting in front of Remus with the nostalgic face while more memories surfaced, lit in front of his tired eyes like fireflies. He saw them again, the ones the dementor pulled from him, but this time they came easily, and stayed flashing in front of his eyes, each frame a knife wound to his already bleeding heart.

The boy's friends were slapping him now, trying in alarm to wake him. Slowly, his eyes opened and Remus felt that embarrassing lurch when you falsely recognize someone. This was not James, the eyes, the eyes were not right. But he felt another lurch, a shove to his guts when he had another epiphany. What did they always say about James' son? Lily's eyes. How could he have forgotten? How could he no longer pull Lily's face from the depths anymore? The realization of who this boy was, and why he had fallen when none of his peers had, twisted his guts so hard that he had to stand, turning away quickly to fumble with his trunk for some chocolate.

Harry Potter was looking groggily around, stammering and still looking terrified as he asked,

"What happened? Where's that- that thing? Who screamed?"

His friends looked puzzled but Remus felt like holding on to the rails his heart felt so weak and pained. Finding the chocolate, he unwrapped it without any of them looking around and, to get their attention, and his own, snapped the thick bar of Honeydukes in half. They jumped, their heads swiveling to him in alarm.

"Here." Remus said, handing one of the halves to Harry, "Eat it. It'll help." Remus started breaking up the remaining half and handing it to the rest of the students.

Harry spoke again, "What was that thing?"

"A dementor," Remus said, allowing a taste of disgust to mingle with the anguish inside, "One of the dementors of Azkaban."

No one had eaten their chocolate, the fog of torment was enveloping Remus to where it hurt to breathe now. Escape now. Harry is fine.

"Eat," he repeated with a small smile and not a touch of sternness, "It'll help. I need to speak to the driver, excuse me…" and with that, he walked past Harry, who made no move to eat the chocolate, opened the door to the compartment, stepped out and shutting the door, moved to the front.

He did not speak to the driver immediately however. First he stood on the junction between two cars, letting the fierce wind blow away the memories and tears he has not felt nor shed for thirteen years. He had been right to know why one boy collapsed. Extreme trauma. "Who screamed…?" Who indeed, Remus thought bitterly. Poor Lily. Poor sweet Lily, and poor Harry, who's only memories he will ever know of his parents will be of their final moments. Their deaths. Once he had a hold of himself, he asked the driver if he had an owl on him, and wrote a note to Professor McGonagall.

Dear Professor McGonagall,

Harry Potter became ill and collapsed this afternoon

when the dementors inspected our compartment on the train.

Perhaps notify Madame Pomfrey? I know we must all look

out for Harry's safety more so than our own due to Black's

threats.

Yours sincerely,

R. J. Lupin