AN:/ Okay then. Hiya! It's been… a while to say the least. But I was re-reading through some of my old work not too long ago and I was wondering what it would be like if I re-wrote it from a third person perspective. Because I'm sure my writing's improved over the years (please, for the love of all that is holy, say that my writing's improved…) and this was the result.
The original first chapter can still be read as one of my other fics, but I can officially say that I won't be adding any more chapters and I'll instead be focusing on this one.I can't say that updates will be frequent, but I'd honesty appreciate it if you could maybe drop a review on how you think the story is and - if you read the original - whether you think it's improved?
Thanks, guys, and I hope you keep reading! (:
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot and the girl. Everything else is the amazing JK's.
It would seem that all fairytales have the same essence. 'Once upon a time there was a princess and a handsome prince who shared true love's kiss and lived happily ever after. The end.'
But all of these stories have one thing in common; they're not true.
Apologies given to those who were sure that Cinderella and her step-sisters, or even Ariel and her fishy tail, were prophecies of what was bound to occur in future life. It is simply make-believe (probably created by an unemployed wizard who had one too many fire whiskeys).
The truth is that Fairy Godmother's are so wrapped up in their own lives that they would never take the time off to visit a poor rag girl orphan. And the only thing beautiful about a mermaid is their sharpened pitch forks, which no doubt are about to be plunged somewhere which doesn't bear thinking about.
But this account (unlike the obvious falsities mentioned before) is a true representation of one girl who tried her hardest to save her world. And failed. Miserably.
If asked, she would say that it all started on the 31st August, 1977. Well, actually, she would say that it all started a couple of years before that, back when she was still an innocent little witch who's greatest fear was failing that month's Transfiguration test. But on the date mentioned above, one Miss Alana Thomas was gracefully attempting to climb through the open window that she had - tactfully - left ajar before venturing out into the night mere hours earlier.
The Grandfather clock in the hall struck three in the morning as she tentatively placed her sneaker-clad foot onto the window sill. The terrace underneath her other shoe trembled unpleasantly underneath her weight, the wind blowing her dark, curly hair into her eyes and mouth.
"Always midnight meetings," she grumbled to herself through the harsh panting, "Why can we never meet for afternoon tea, for Merlin's sake?"
Using the upper body strength that she was sure she had once had, she pulled herself up and into her bedroom, the heat hitting her stinging face that was numb from the bitter cold outside. For an August night, it was unbelievably frosty. Typical English weather, she told herself.
She hit the carpeted floor with a soft thump and held her breath as she listened for the tell tale snores that hinted that her father was still asleep.
Silence filled the room.
And then, thankfully, a racking snore came from the room next door and Alana allowed her lungs to fill with sweet oxygen.
She quickly changed into her pyjamas and contemplated life, as one often does, while brushing her teeth.
In merely eight hours she would be boarding the train to the one place she had called home for the past six years of her life and in less that 365 days, she would have to brave the big wide world alone.
There had been many memories in Hogwarts castle, both good and bad. Memories that would always remain with her, despite what could occur.
The time when Brenda Musgrove had been locked in the Vanishing Door on the fifth floor for two days straight because no one could find the opening again to let her out. The time that Lucius Malfoy had red hair for a week and a half because someone had switched his usual hair gel with Sally Simpson's Super Strawberry Hair Dye.
The time she had broken her collar bone after falling from the school broom in first year. (She had never ridden a broom since that incident and she would be damned if she ever saw one again - she didn't even attend the Quidditch matches that everyone seemed to be obsessed with.)
And, of course, who could forget the time that changed her life forever?
She had been in her fifth year of schooling, merely sixteen years old, and was talking loudly with Severus Snape in the Charms corridor, discussing a brutal test that they had both just been subject to.
"It was horrible, wasn't it?" she asked him rhetorically, "I mean, seriously, who cares if someone can make a pineapple dance across a table?"
He chuckled slightly and then suddenly became quiet.
Alana looked at him from the corner of her eye.
"What's up, Sev?" she asked and he stopped dead in the middle of the corridor.
"We're friends, right?" he asked, and she nodded in response, unsure to where this conversation was going. "What if I told you," he continued, "that there's a person out there who could make our dreams come true?"
She laughed aloud.
"I'd say, 'What fairy dust have you been smoking and where can I get some?'," Alana replied and leant against the wall, "Come on, Sev, this isn't another one of those talks where you try to get me to come with you and join What's-His-Face, is it?"
He shook his head.
"It's too late, Ally," he told her and began to roll his sleeve up, the telltale dark ink that was etched into his skin becoming visible. "I've already done it."
Her eyes widened at the sight and she suddenly felt sick to her stomach.
"Why, Sev?" she asked him and forcibly reached over to roll his sleeve down once more.
"You know why," he replied, moving away from her touch, "I'm fed up of not being able to make a difference. There's people out there who have no right to be in our world. There's Mudbloods and blood-traitors everywhere you look, don't you want to get rid of that?"
He walked away before she could answer and Alana sank to the floor in desperation.
They had been friends since they were innocent little first years, waiting anxiously for Professor McGonagall to call their name in the Great Hall. But his mind had been clouded with obscene thoughts of blood-traitors and muggleborns. She now knew where his allegiance lay and, if the time came, he would tell his 'master' of their conversation and she would be in some form of danger.
With no other choice in mind, she took a deep breath and followed the long, twisting corridors that led to the Professor Dumbledore's office. A stone gargoyle marked the entrance and, with no other clue what to do, she simply stood there in hopes that something would happen.
She had always thought that the castle had some form of magic itself, that it could sense its students in the depths of the maze-like hallways. And her theory was only strengthened as, without a word, the stone gargoyle stepped aside and she began the agonizing walk to the top of the winding staircase.
A large, oak door with a brass knocker marked the entrance to the office itself and with a deep breath, gathering all the Gryffindor courage that she could find in her Slytherin body, she knocked loudly on the wood.
"Enter," a voice answered immediately, and her shaking hand reached for the doorknob.
Her small frame made merely a dent in the doorway and Professor Dumbledore, old and withered but with a twinkle in his eye, looked up from the letter he was writing.
"Ah, Miss Thomas," he said and placed his quill in the holder, "Please, come in. What can I do for you?"
It was strange that he knew her name, she remembered thinking, when she had never once spoken to him before. She was a smart child, but never enough to be noticed and she was never one to cause trouble. There was no need for him to know who she was. She made sure to fit in the shadows and was happy with being invisible.
It was at that point that Alana realised just how dedicated the headmaster was to his school.
She stood before his desk on shaking legs until he gestured to a high-backed armchair. At the time, she didn't know why she was so scared. Dumbledore was known for his generosity, even to those who never showed him it in return - but looking back on the moment years later, it occurred to her that merely being in the presence of someone with so much more power that herself was something that frightened her.
"Well, sir," she began, "I honestly didn't know who else to turn to."
His eyes filled with concern and he conjured a cup of tea with a sherbet lemon balanced precariously on the saucer.
"Tell me what troubles you, Miss Thomas, and I shall see what we can do."
"But I don't know where to start, sir."
"I always find that it's best to start at the beginning," he replied with a kind smile sent in her direction.
A small smile pulled at her own lips and with a deep breath she began to talk.
Once she had started, she couldn't seem to stop no matter how hard she tried. Words spilled from her mouth like an overflowing river, telling the elderly man everything that she could think of - how Severus had been begging her to go with him to see Voldemort ever since the start of the year, how he was too frightened to go by himself. And how he had gathered all of the courage that he possessed and had finally taken the plunge that would no doubt change his life forever, but not necessarily for the better. And how, now, she didn't know what else she could do.
Throughout her hysterical explanation, Dumbledore's eyes slowly lost their twinkle and began to fill with a deep sympathy that she knew was for Severus. He, like herself, no doubt knew of the trouble he experienced at home and it seemed to Severus himself that by joining the Dark Lord, these troubles would simply disappear.
It took an outside view of the situation to realise that the opposite would eventually occur.
"I'm afraid, Miss Thomas, that this a serious incident. Tom Riddle is a very dangerous wizard and it shocks me that he would be recruiting followers at such a young age as yourself." He stopped suddenly, and his eyes showed the inner turmoil he was experiencing.
"Miss Thomas, I understand if what I am about to say scares you. Heaven knows, I am slightly frightened myself. And you must understand that you have every right to call me a crazy old coot and refuse the option."
Alana's body filled with confusion. What could he possibly be talking about?
"Tom Riddle, or 'Lord Voldemort' as he is known today, is a very dangerous wizard. With his current rise in power, myself and a few others have found it custom to do our very best to be prepared for any dangers we may face. However, our forces have become, shall we say, less than reliable. We cannot base our plans on hear-say alone.
"Miss Thomas, how would you feel to become a spy?"
Her body seemed to shut down and she suddenly realised, as Dumbledore looked at her with sympathy, that she had been staring at him in silence for the last five minutes.
Her? A spy? Surely not. For one thing, imagine the danger - she was scared of her own shadow more than half the time and nearly fainted when she saw a spider. She wouldn't be able to handle being in more than close proximity with the Dark Lord himself!
And, what's more, she was only a teenager! A teenager who should be focused on passing her OWLs, not worrying whether she was going to be outed as a spy by the one person who was feared over the entire country.
But as her mind slowly began to work once more, the logic of the situation began to come through.
Dumbledore would only ask her if he had no other choice, if it was a last resort. And he was the most powerful wizard of all time - he would make sure that she was in the least amount of danger that was possible.
And she could be the key to winning a war that was no doubt soon to occur.
"Sir," she began, not entirely sure what she was going to say, "I'm not going to deny that I'm scared out of my wits. But I'm going to accept your offer. I believe that you would never ask something like this of me if it wasn't your last resort, and if I can at least help a little bit to get Severus back to the way he was then I'm going to do it."
Dumbledore nodded once, face serious but a twinkle of gratitude in his eyes.
From that moment she was an immediate member of the Order of the Phoenix and had regular lessons with Dumbledore on how to block her mind from intruders. Just under a year later, he felt she was ready to begin her mission and followed Severus' footsteps in joining the Death Eaters.
And from that moment, her life had never been the same.
She had been forced to put on a front to the outside world, to make herself act as if she hated muggleborns and blood traitors alike, to sneer at anyone who dared to cross her path. But in reality she was a sweet, loyal girl who never trusted someone enough to become real friends. She had seen first hand what it was like to be betrayed by someone you considered to be like family and she refused to let it happen again.
But in just over a year, there had been a great change because of her actions. People became weary of the man who called himself Lord Voldemort and she became more and more focused on her task as time went on. The Dark Lord trusted her with information that she then passed on to Dumbledore and, because of this, countless lives had been saved and Voldemort was none the wiser.
As the promise of a brighter tomorrow hung in the air, Alana closed her eyes and waited for sleep to claim her.
Alana woke the next morning by her owl, Taffy, screeching as loud as her lungs would allow. As there was no thunderous yells of anger headed in her direction, she knew that her father had already set off to work.
Taffy was glaring at Alana with her wide eyes, beak pecking at the lock to her cage. Taffy wasn't like a regular owl; she was afraid of the dark and instead preferred to hunt during the early hours. Although it was much more difficult for the bird herself, Alana benefited from the reliable alarm every morning so she was never late.
"Hey, girl," Alana said as she climbed out of bed and leaned through the bars of the cage to stroke Taffy's soft feathers. The owl hooted in pleasure and tilted her head to lean more into the touch. "You'll have to come straight back after you've caught something today. We've got a long day ahead of us." Taffy hooted woefully, glancing out of the open window with longing. "I'll let you out again on the train, you silly bird. It's not as if you're never going to see the outside world again."
If a bird could roll their eyes, Alana felt that this would be the moment that it would do so.
Pulling up the latch to open the cage, Taffy flapped her wings and took flight without a backwards glance at her owner.
Alana scoffed. "Yeah, I love you too."
After brushing her teeth and changing into her Muggle clothing, Alana glanced wistfully at the trunk placed at the end of her bed; it was emerald green in colour with black accents and the Hogwarts crest emblazoned on the front.
It had also been fully packed for the past two weeks - eager to return to her true home, Alana had had everything prepared for a fortnight before she had to actually leave.
At that moment, as she was staring longingly at her trunk, Taffy re-appeared perching on the windowsill with a small - but clearly dead - mouse dangling from her beak.
"Oh, you clever girl," Alana told her, suppressing her gag reflex, "Did you catch that all by yourself?"
Taffy gave a confirmative hoot, and in doing so, the mouse dropped to the plush carpet with a dull 'thud'. She the decided to savage the creature then and there and, turning a pale, sickly green, Alana turned around to grab the owl's cage rather than having to witness the devouring of small, adorable animals in her own bedroom.
As the sound of crunching bones finally stopped, Alana glanced at the clock hanging from the wall and realised it was time to start the journey.
"Come on, girl, into the cage," she said, and opened the cage door for Taffy to enter. Taffy stared at her incredulously, not moving an inch.
"Don't look at me like that," she said, "Come on, into the cage."
Taffy gave an unhappy hoot and nipped at Alana's fingers in a not-purely-amiable way before hopping into the cage and folding her head underneath her brown speckled wing.
Alana gathered her things and made her way downstairs, leaving a small note on the table to tell her father where she was going and that she would see him at Christmas. She tried to ignore the fact that he probably wouldn't even notice her absence and turned a blind eye to the littering of empty beer bottles thrown haphazardly around the kitchen. He wasn't an alcoholic, he was just going through a rough patch that's all. That's all.
With her trunk and Taffy's cage in tow, she made her way into the street, locking the door behind her. After waiting rather impatiently for an elderly Muggle woman to shuffle around the corner of the street, she held out her wand - cedar and unicorn hair, 8 ½ inches - and barely a second later a purple triple-decker bus appeared before her.
A middle aged man with slightly greying auburn hair and a frightfully pointy chin was leaning out of the entrance, a purple card in his hand.
"Welcome to the Knight Bus," he read slowly in a drawling voice, "emergency transport for the stranded which or wizard. Just hold out your wand hand, step on board and we can take you anywhere you want to go. My name is -"
"Yeah, yeah, Paul," Alana interrupted, "I've heard it before. Can I get on now? These things aren't getting any lighter, I'm afraid."
The conductor - Paul - glanced up from the card with a bright smile on his face.
"Alana! It's great to see you, sweetheart. Back to Hogwarts already?"
Alana nodded her head, handing him the sickles needed for the ride. "Yeah, but not soon enough in my opinion. You have no idea how much I miss that place."
"I have a bit of an idea, love," Paul replied, grabbing her trunk and dragging it on board. He had graduated from Hogwarts himself around twenty years ago and still missed the place. A Hufflepuff through and through, he could still remember standing amongst his fellow classmates as his name was called out to try on the Sorting Hat.
"We'll be at King's Cross in a minute," he said, knocking on the screen separating them from the driver. The man jumped a little, startled, before the bus rumbled to life and sped off at the speed of light. "Just got to drop Madame Marsh off."
Alana's eyebrows disappeared into her hairline.
"Madame Marsh? She practically lives on here now, doesn't she?"
"Third time this week she's been on, and it's only Tuesday," Paul replied, folding his arms in front of him. "I think she's sweet on the new bus driver, to be honest. Ernie Prang, started last week." He nodded towards the bus driver and Alana could just make out a shock of stark white hair and thick glasses covering a wrinkled face.
In no longer than five minutes, the bus had picked up three more passengers and Alana had the pleasure of witnessing a slightly green Madame Marsh stumbling off of the bus whilst being held up by Paul.
"Easy does it, Madame Marsh," he said soothingly as she swayed, holding a shaking hand to her mouth. "There we go, easy now. Kings Cross now, Ernie," Paul added and Alana had the pleasure of hearing a retch before the bus doors swung shut.
The next time the bus rolled to a stop, they were parked just outside the entrance to King's Cross Station. As Alana pulled her trunk along, thanking Paul and Ernie in the process, she saw from the large clock over head that it had just turned ten fifteen meaning she had plenty of time to reach the platform and may even have the chance of finding an empty compartment.
The entire station was buzzing with people, both magical and Muggle, but through the hustle and bustle Alana finally managed to make it to the stretch of wall between Platforms 9 and 10.
The ridiculous act of running towards a solid brick wall never failed to make her question her sanity, even though she had done it countless times before. Taking a deep breath, she tightened the grip on her trolley and ran as fast as she could towards the wall, making sure to look into the distance at a train that was ready to depart. Anyone looking at her would think she was late to board the very same train and yet, in a split second, she was gone.
And there it was, the large scarlet train appearing before her, steam already billowing from the engine as if it was as eager as the students themselves to begin the journey.
Stepping on board she made her way to the back of the train where the compartments were usually empty. She wasn't disappointed, finding one almost immediately and after lifting her trunk onto the luggage rack she collapsed into the cushioned seat, resting her head against the window.
Families - they were everywhere. Heart broken parents holding onto their eleven year old child as tight as they could before they were whisked away for a full year. Mothers unpacking and repacking trunks in the middle of the platform as their son or daughter looked away in embarrassment. Fathers conversing with other fathers while their children exchanged stories of their summers, ready to begin a new year full of adventures.
The jealousy rose in Alana like a tidal wave. Glaring at the throng of people of the platform, she closed the curtain attached to the window and they were washed away in a surge of scarlet fabric.
Bloody parents and their bloody kids. Who needed them, anyway?
The thankful feeling that she had felt thanks to the compartment being empty (so she could wallow in self pity, a voice at the back of her head chimed in) was suddenly dashed as the compartment door opened with a bang.
"Ah, Thomas, I knew we could count on you to find us a compartment," Lucius Malfoy announced with a smirk. He knew very well that the compartment was for her and her alone, and yet he sunk down into the seat opposite and several other Slytherins followed him in.
Deciding then and there that it would not be worth the hassle, Alana's mouth remained closed and any retaliating comments she forced under her tongue. There was a time and a place and, unfortunately, the Hogwarts Express was not it.
From the moment the compartment door slammed closed, they seemed to ignore Alana completely which - for her - was more than okay. It gave her time to think and to discretely identify who the invaders were as they made small talk with one another.
Lucius Malfoy was the obvious leader of the small group, his long blonde hair tied elegantly at the base of his head. On any other boy, it would be the basis for a number of jokes and jeers, yet Lucius' regal posture and attitude meant that no other hairstyle would even be questioned.
His pale hand was placed on the knee of the girl next to him and she looked to him with adoring, doe like eyes. The girl, Narcissa Black, was already dressed into her school robes, make up done to perfection on her porcelain face and her blonde hair cascading in gentle waves. To any outside source, she would look like a perfect angel. And yet sometimes the ugliness on the inside can shatter any effect of beauty on the outside - and this was definitely the case with Narcissa.
Opposite her, and sitting next to Alana, was another girl. Cordelia Greengrass was sat inspecting her nails with great interest occasionally looking up to stare longingly in Lucius' direction. It seemed every girl over the age of 14 in Slytherin thought Lucius was the most handsome wizard ever to grace the planet. Alana, on the other hand, thought he was an arrogant, self-centred idiot with daddy issues. However, she was obviously in the minority.
Dolohov was the penultimate person in the compartment - a boy in which Alana did not know, nor had any desire to know, his first name. He was large and bulky with a flat nose and receding hairline despite being only eighteen years of age. She was sure that he was at least part troll, if just by the stench he gave off.
The final person in the compartment was the one that Alana glanced at the least yet knew by far the most about. She glanced at Severus Snape, lank hair hanging in front of his eyes and hooked nose stuck in a book, for all of two seconds and yet at that moment it was by far the most difficult thing she had had to do.
Alana quietly excused herself from the compartment and yet the chatter continued on around her. It seemed her fellow Slytherins hardly noticed her presence and only one pair of obsidian eyes followed her as the compartment door swung open once more.
It had been one year and 232 days. 597 days in total since they had last spoken to one another. It was an unbelievably long amount of time, and yet she could still remember the important things, the things a best friend should know. His favourite colour, his favourite lesson, the kind of music he liked, what he would want for Christmas… (red, Potions, jazz and a magically enhanced telescope.)
It was crazy, yet she could feel herself itching to swing open the compartment door, storm in and start up a conversation with him.
"Hi, Sev, I know it's been nearly two years but, hey, what about those Cannon's at their last match?"
Alana chuckled at the expression she could imagine on his face, a mix between confusion and absolute horror, and before she knew it she was cackling hysterically in the abandoned hallway.
"I'm sure that's a sign of madness. Laughing madly to yourself with no real reason."
Well, maybe not so abandoned.
Standing upright, the laughter died completely on her lips. She was silent in less than a second.
Lily Evans was walking along the corridor, a small smile settled on her face and a reproachful look in her eye. Lily was observant to say the least - several times throughout the year she would talk to me and even though I gave her nothing but scathing remarks in reply, she was never deterred. It was like she knew that it was all for show, that I never meant the things I said. Or maybe she just saw the best in everyone… Maybe I was just another charity case.
"Well, well, well… What do we have here? You better watch your back this year, Evans," Alana sneered and, even to her own ears, she sounded less than convincing.
The smile on Lily's face never faded, yet disappointment filled those piercing green eyes. "I'll do that, Alana."
She was sure that, had she stayed any longer, she would either have gaped like a fish or broke down crying in Lily's arms - Lily Evans seemed to have that effect on people - so with a passing sneer Alana turned on her heel and stalked towards the bathroom.
The only thing appealing about the Hogwart's Express bathrooms was that each and every cubicle had it's own mirror and sink, meaning girls weren't fighting over a number of them in a small space.
It also meant seclusion and peace and quiet, something that - at that moment - Alana craved more than anything else.
Standing before the mirror, she took in her reflection as the train swayed back and forth. With long, wavy black hair and pale skin, Alana was the first one to admit that she wasn't the best looking student at Hogwarts. Not by a long shot.
But there was one thing about her appearance that she wouldn't change for the world - her eyes, a deep, dark blue were exactly the same as her mothers and the constant reminder that a part of her was still alive inside Alana filled her with hope.
All of a sudden, a sharp lurch of the train forced the girl out of her thoughts and, falling forwards, she stumbled into the basin. Legs dangling over the side and the taps pushing against her ribcage, it would have been a comical experience had the lights not begun to flicker out at that exact moment.
The air turned cold and her breath began to appear in short bursts before her eyes as confusion filled her.
It couldn't be… could it? Dumbledore would never…
Absently rubbing her backside - which was no doubt bruised from the sudden fall into the basin - she flung the door to the bathroom open.
The hallway was deserted.
Taking a deep breath, she reached into her robes for her wand and brandished it before her as one would a sword. It was her only means of protection and she'd be damned if the Dementors attacked any student on this train - Dumbledore trusted her and it was her duty to protect. And, Merlin, she would do it with everything she had.
Ears pricked for any sign of distress, Alana began the tentative walk along the long, dark corridor.
Halfway along, she began to relax. The compartments were quiet. Maybe she was wrong, she wondered to herself. Maybe Dementors weren't on the train. Maybe the… air conditioning broke - that would explain the sudden cold. And… the power must've gone out, or something…
A sudden noise made her stop outside of a compartment - it was the first sign of life she had heard since her patrol began so the person was obviously is some form of danger and she had to help, she had to save them… but if they were in fact, in some form of mortal peril, why were they laughing? Death - or the sucking out of your soul, Alana corrected herself - can't really be that much of a hilarious concept, surely?
Pulling open the compartment door, wand still drawn in defence, four teenage boys were sat inside. There was no Dementor in sight.
Instead, one of them - tall and muscular with tousled black hair - had their wand lit and was holding it close to his face, casting it in shadow.
"And then," he was saying in a low voice that, Alana was sure, was meant to be spooky (if not for the continuous break of laughter), "he reached out a hand towards the door, not knowing that the axe murderer was behind it. He grabbed the handle and pulled and then-"
"You can't actually be serious," Alana announced, disbelief showing clearly in her voice.
The four boys jumped slightly at the interruption - it was obvious they had no idea she had even opened the door. Honestly, she mused to herself, the Dementor itself could have snuck inside and they would have been none the wiser.
The boy holding the wand and telling the 'spooky' story smirked at her.
"Well," Sirius Black stated, rising to his feet, "I'm sure I could bore you all with jokes over how, yes, I am in fact Sirius. But I'll save you all the torment." His smirking face suddenly turned into an ugly sneer. "No one invited you, Thomas, and I'm afraid this is an invitation only party."
"Well, is the Dementor invited? Because I'm sure he'd love to listen to your amazingly scary story," she replied sarcastically, narrowing her eyes. "Y'know, since you're here telling childish tales instead of making sure everyone was alright. Because," she turned her eyes to the boy who was sitting opposite Sirius, "I'm sure that would be something the Head Boy has already done, so I'm obviously wasting my time, right?"
James Potter, a bespectacled boy, looked up, alarmed. "There's a Dementor?" he asked, Head Boy badge gleaming in the light from Black's wand.
"Duh," Alana replied, looking at him as if he had just asked the most obvious question in the world.
They jumped up and grabbed their wands in the way of true, courageous - but stupid - Gryffindors and Alana had to supress rolling her eyes at their actions. Black and Potter pushed by her without a word, Peter Pettigrew - a short, lumpy boy - following after them.
The last one to leave, Remus Lupin, was taller than all of the others. He had a selection of long, deep scars on his face and looked quite menacing, but as he passed by her he turned to Alana and gave a small smile.
"Thanks," he murmered, "for letting us know."
Alana's eyes narrowed again, not sure whether the boy was being serious or not. Settling on a curt nod, she left them to their own devices.
The patrol continued for another ten minutes, and there was no sign of distress as far as she could tell. It seemed that she had over-reacted, that wasn't in fact a Dementor - if there was, surely someone who have suffered at the hands of it?
A sudden scream made her stop in her tracks, and instinct made her hold her breath as she sprinted along the corridor, determined to find the source of the noise. Thoughts swirled around her head faster than she could focus on them.
She knew she would never forgive herself if she didn't make it in time, she had to make it in time, what would Dumbledore say if she didn't, if she let an innocent student be subject to the Dementor's Kiss…
She skidded to a halt at the end of the train where a young girl, no older than twelve, had passed out under a cloaked figure.
The Dementor.
Sensing the presence of another, the Dementor lifted it's head as it focused on Alana and she felt the sudden emptiness that came with every one of her worst memories.
"Do you swear to follow me throughout your life … do you swear to do my bidding … will you kill without a moment's hesitation …"
"It's your fault she's dead! You and your freakish little world!"
"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust…"
The mere simple idea of a happy thought was almost funny in the way that it was an impossible task to accomplish. A happy thought? There were no happy thoughts. Only terror as Voldemort marked her as one of his won, only numbness as her father yelled at her through the haze of alcohol, only distress as her mother was lowered into the ground in a wooden casket…
Her mother.
As the image filled her mind - all blue eyes and white teeth and ivory skin - Alana held her wand aloft and stated as clear as she could through the chattering of her teeth, "Expecto Patronum."
All that appeared was a slight mist, but it was enough for the monster to back away from the young girl.
But as the mist faded and the emptiness returned, the Dementor instead made straight for Alana with a newfound determination.
And the darkness seemed to come at her from every corner of her mind and her vision began to blur and the floor began to rise to meet her as she fell…
A bang.
A bright light.
And she knew no more.
AN:/
I know it's cliche to finish on a cliffhanger but, hey, I couldn't help myself. (;
Be a darling and drop me a review, and I'll give you a shoutout in the next chapter. :3
Thanks guys!
ButterflyFarie