"Harry!" Dudley's shout pulled him from his dazed stupor as his cousin lifted him form the street of the alleyway. "Blimey Harry, I thought you were dead!"

Harry noted with dry amusement that Dudley sounded relieved by his apparent survival. "I'm okay, Dudley. I'll live. What happened?"

Dudley dropped Harry's arm, taking a step back and twitching nervously. He leaned forward. "The shadows ate you, Harry."

Of course asking Dudley for information on a magical event was going to be useless. Harry shook his head, freeing it from the last of the cobwebs. He looked round, dropping to his knees when he spotted the source of all this weirdness still lying on alley. Harry's hand brushed against the boy's throat, feeling for a pulse. Instead they touched cool leather, obviously an adornment of some kind. But the boy murmured at the pressure. Harry released a breath.

"What are you doing?" Dudley watched with horror as Harry grabbed the boy's arms, shifting and hefting until the unconscious figure was draped across his back, short legs sticking out from under Harry's armpit.

"He's coming with us. We can't just leave him here."

"Mum will never allow you to bring another wizard home." Leave it to Dudley to make life worse.

Harry thought about it then shrugged. "We can't leave him here." Harry started back down the alley.

"But he's filthy."

"I'm sure he'll wash."

"I bet he's sick."

"I bet he's not."

"He spoke funny. That wasn't English. He was talking gibberish. He-" Dudley stopped speaking as Harry grabbed his arm, pushing him against the alley wall. "Harry?" He whispered fearfully.

"Shut up, Dudley." There was no malice in Harry's tone. Just concentration. That scared Dudley into silence, which was just what Harry needed. He cocked his head, listening and praying he heard nothing.

A hoarse familiar rattling of breath let him know he wasn't that lucky. He could hear the faint whispers of cloaks, as all other sounded faded into darkness. The fates must be mocking at him.

"Dudley," Harry spoke as calmly as he could, "you need to take the kid from my back. I'm going to draw my wand. Then you need to slowly and quietly follow me. If I tell you to run, you run."

Harry couldn't see Dudley's nod in the dark but he could feel the weight pulled off of his back. Harry pulled out his wand. He took a few steps away from Dudley then slowly peered around.

The Dementor was staying still in the alley, breathing in deeply. Harry could feel the cold, but it didn't bother him. He had been far colder only moments ago. He pushed the knot of fear in his stomach aside. Slowly he slid back to his cousin. "This way," Harry's whisper was barely a hiss.

Slowly the trio began working it's way back in the direction they had already come from. Harry had no idea where they could run, where they could hide. He could summon the Knight Bus, maybe go to the Burrow. But that wouldn't work. Dudley wouldn't be able to see it and as much as he hated his cousin he would not wish for death by Dementors for him.

Harry heard another rattling his. From up head. He stopped in his tracks. There was more than one.

He spun to warn Dudley, to try and come up with a plan. Fluttering cloaks caught his eye. The first Dementor had spotted them.

"Dudley, duck!" His cousin wasted no time with the order, dropping to the ground and using his large body to help protect the younger boy they had found. The younger boy that was going to die for having met Harry Potter. Just like Cedric died.

Harry could hear the echoes of laughter in his mind. The cold and cruel sound cutting through his consciousness. Still he lifted his wand. "Expecto patronum." Harry wasn't surprised when a wisp of silver light shot from the tip and died in the night. Of course it wouldn't work now. Not when other people's lives were on the line.

Harry shook his head, trying to push through the Dementor induced despair. He could hear the second one coming up behind him. He could see the first one approaching, lifting its scaly hands in beckoning, promising a fate far worse than death.

Anger bubbled through Harry. It was dark and viscous. He had just escaped a painful death. He wasn't going to curl up now. And he had saved someone doing so. That's right. Someone wasn't dead!

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

Silver light burst from the tip of his wand. Harry watched, waiting for the familiar stag to appear to drive the Dementors off. Instead the light continued to shine, building up to such intensity that Harry had to turn his head, shutting his eyes to protect from the growing light. Still he winced as the brightness seeped through the lids. His arm hummed from the magic flowing through it into the wand. The humming grew, moving from his arm into his shoulder, then spreading throughout his body.

Harry gasped in surprise, opening his eyes in shock. A pure white world greeted, save for one black smudge before him. The Dementor was still. Even its cloak had stopped fluttering. But Harry didn't want it still. He wanted it gone. He wanted both them gone. The humming reached a climax.

Then it was gone and Harry was once again on the ground, panting and feeling exhausted and light headed.

"Harry?"

"Dudley." Silence stretched between the two of them. "Are you all right?"

He heard his cousin shift on the ground. "I'm cold."

Harry nodded, trying to blink away the spots in his vision. "You need chocolate. But you'll live."

"Oh." There was more silence. "Are you all right?"

Harry thought about the question. Dudley had managed not to be a total prat. He deserved an honest answer. "I can't move."

Dudley's response was lost in a screech. "Harry Potter!" Harry bit back a groan. He recognized Mrs. Figg's voice. The woman was probably about to accuse him of attacking Dudley. Or one of her cats. And she would be able to see is wand. Harry frowned at that, but he couldn't exactly hide the thing.

"Hello Mrs. Figg." Harry tried to make his tone sound conversational, as though he, his cousin and an unconscious stranger were not lying half blind in the back of a dark alley.

He heard someone flop down beside him. He felt the hand on his jaw, twisting his head. "Harry, are you all right?"

"He said he can't move." Dudley supplied.

"I am going to kill Mundungus Fletcher!" Harry frowned, not recognizing the name. "We need to get him out of here before the Dementors come back. Can you carry him?"

"Then who's going to carry him?" Harry frowned. He could here a rushing in his ears. That was probably why the conversation was confusing.

"Goodness, there are two?! I can't carry him. I'm too old for such nonsense." Harry blinked, his vision clearing enough for him to see Mrs. Figg wringing her hands. "Oh I am going to kill Mundungus! I warned him, I warned him! I told him I'd flay him alive if he left! Good thing I put Mr. Tibble on the case. But now what am I supposed to do? Dementors! Of all things, Dementors!"

"Mrs. Figg, are you a witch?" Harry asked blurrily. If she said no he'd claim he had been hallucinating.

"I'm a squib, dear boy. Can you move yet?"

Harry experimental tried to lift an arm. It was easier than processing that his batty cat neighbor was actually aware of the magical world. "Not an inch."

He watched as she paced, then frowned when something caught his eye. "Mrs. Figg, what's that?"

"What's what?" He could here the fear in her voice.

"That bundle on the ground."

Harry watched curiously as Mrs. Figg cautiously moved over to the dark spot on the ground. She poked it with a slippered foot. When it didn't move she cautiously bent over and picked it up. A long dark cloak fluttered from her hand. Mrs. Figg worked her jaw before voicing a strangled answer. "It's a Dementor's cloak."

Harry frowned. Not only was there a Dementor out there, but it was also naked. The thought repulsed and amused him at the same time. He could almost picture the naked thing explain to Voldemort how it got that way.

A crack resounded through the alley. Harry blinked as a squat and dirty man appeared a few feet from where Dudley was cradling the unconscious boy they had found earlier. Part of Harry's mind warned him to be afraid but it was quickly drowned out by the though of naked tap dancing Dementor.

"S'up Figgy? Whatcha got there?"

"A Dementor's cloak. From a DEMENTOR! You left and the boy got attacked by bloody DEMENTORS!"

The man rocked back, stunned. "Dementors? 'ere?"

"YES!" Shrieked Mrs. Figg. Harry knew it was going to take a lot of tea to get her to calm down. "YES THEY WERE HERE! Now go get the Order! NOW! Harry's hurt and I can't move him!"

"What about him?" Mundungus pointed at Dudley.

Mrs. Figg swung a bad that had been hanging from her waist. It struck Mundungus across the face. "Get the Order now! We aren't out of danger yet! Go or I will feed you to Mr. Tibble you worthless pile of harpy vomit!"

A crack echoed through the alley again, reducing its occupants back down to four. Harry frowned, trying to think of something to calm the frantic Mrs. Figg down. But his mind was distracted. His tap dancing Dementor had found a cane and a top hat.

More cracks were sounded and suddenly the alley was filled with people. Harry heard a woman whisper and light flooded the alley. It was blotted out as a face filled his vision.

"Harry?" He heard the fearful whisper. It took a few seconds to place.

"Hiya Professor Lupin." He tried to sound cheerful, but he was getting awfully tired. He frowned. The Dementor now had a werewolf dressed as a cabaret girl dancing with him.

"Harry, where does it hurt?" He was lifted from the alley into a pair of warm arms. The warmth felt good. It felt nice. Mm. Comfy. "Harry?"

He blinked then remembered the question. "No where. No pain. Just can't move. Sleepy." As he said it he realized just how tired he was. If he could have moved he would have snuggled closer to the heat source and past out right there.

"What in blazes happened here?" He recognized that growl. Moody. Professor Moody. He should answer. But he was so tired.

"Well?"

He'd explain in the morning.

-x—x---x—x-

Two ghostly figures raced through the streets of Little Whinging. Both moved with a form of panicked determination, as though every step was measured by lives at stake. Light from street lamps struck the figures, both of who were pale. Shock white hair bounced the light back as the boys wove there way through the lights and shadows. Had anyone been bothering to look out there window they would have soon found themselves believing in ghosts.

One of the figures held a golden item in his hand. It shone eerily; it's light deepening the shadows. One of the points on it was aiming itself towards the south, the same direction the boys were moving in. Then the light flickered and died, leaving cold metal in the albino's hand.

"What the fuck?"

"Bakura, what happened?" Ryou approached his Yami as the stopped, both of them staring at the ring.

"How the fuck should I know, Landlord? It was working then it wasn't. I didn't fucking make this thing."

"Calm down Bakura. I'm sure it's nothing…"

"Nothing?! We can't find the midget and my fucking Ring is broken! How the fuck is that nothing?! Fuck! Can this night get any worse?"

"Bakura…." Ryou moved closer, placing his hand on Bakura's. He knew how worried the thief was. He could feel it pouring through the link, matching his own. And it would stay until they found Yugi. Then, it could become fury. Then it could become vengeance. "I'm sure we will find him. We always do. He'll be fine." They both knew it was a lie. It was unlikely that Yugi would ever be fine again.

The Ring gave a violent jerk, the needle coming back to life. But instead of pointing south it swung itself towards the northwest. The glow was dimmer, indicating distance.

"What the fuck?!"

Ryou just sighed. "Back to the house. I have a car."

-x—x---x—x-

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