Here's the next chapter! This mystery should be resolved in a little less time than Light and Changes.
I'm not sure about the pace in some of this chapter, it might seem a little rushed sometimes. Sorry about that; I'll try and fix it for later chapters.
Also, Remus might not be the most in-character, he's quite difficult to write. Hopefully you'll still like him though.
Enjoy!
"Paris, France," the Doctor span a dial on the TARDIS, grinning, hopping back a few steps.
Amy and Rory looked at him, both sceptical, doubting he'd land successfully. Hurt by their distrust, he made a move to say something.
Light flared suddenly. The redhead and her husband made a move towards the Time Lord, caught by surprise. The Doctor reached out, flailing as the light swirled around him. Unused to the energy's type, the TARDIS could do nothing against it, and the Doctor was dragged away-
To driving rain. The Time Lord opened his eyes, still standing, peering into the face of Albus Dumbledore.
"Hello again," the Time Lord said, grinning despite his abrupt, unwilling departure, "Do you know why I'm here."
"We summoned you," the headmaster replied simply, "My apologies for dragging you away, but it was necessary."
"Necessary?" the Doctor frowned, "Hang on, forget that for a moment. Did you say you summoned me?"
The headmaster nodded.
"Oh no," the Doctor rolled his eyes, "Please tell me you didn't go 'Accio Doctor'? There's more than just one of me, you know. Could've ended up with a guy and a scarf. Or pest and umbrella. Or ego and no fashion sense," he shuddered, "Next time, try 'Accio guy-with-cool-bow-tie', actually, don't do that. Could apply to Kazran Sardick. Hang on, do you know Kazran?" the Doctor peered closer to Dumbledore, "You look alike. Nah, never mind. So, why am I here?"
Dumbledore gestured silently, in direct contrast to the Doctor's babbling. He pointed to the Dementor's abandoned cloak.
Shuffling, the Doctor turned, eyes widening as he saw what was beneath it. A skeleton; bleached white bones, just bones, no flesh, in the driving rain.
The Time Lord tensed.
"This…is why you called me," the Doctor's voice had dropped from its previous, perky tones. He continued to stare at the bones and the Dementor's cloak.
"I am afraid so," Dumbledore spoke, pain in his eyes, "Her name is Rowena; for that is the name of the only missing student. We do not know what brought her to this state, nor do we know what has happened to the Dementor," the headmaster felt a kind of pity for the fiend, though he, for once, struggled to show it.
"The same thing," the Doctor replied instantly, "It was the same thing, though," he paused again, frowning at the black, "Maybe not at the same time."
The teachers frowned at him. It seemed for a moment that they were about to say more, but a telltale wave of depression washed over them. Several Prefects backed away, letting the teachers move forwards.
Garbed in deepest sable, a Dementor glided down for them, scabbed hands reaching out from beneath the deep robe. A pronounced hissing came from it, catching the Doctor's attention, but there was no chance to do anything more.
"Expecto Patronum!" the shout came up from several of the teachers. Only one or two produced a corporeal animal; but the rest created a wall of shining, blinding white light, a shield against the foul creature.
"Why are they attacking?" the Doctor muttered to himself, loud enough so that Dumbledore could just hear him, "They never came this close in the books."
Dumbledore frowned, unable to answer.
Slowly, reluctantly, the Dementor was forced away.
O
Remus Lupin slowly walked around a shaking wardrobe, frowning, humming to himself. Occasionally he flicked his wand, making tallies in the air as if using a checklist.
Several minutes through his pacing, the Doctor entered the staff room; the teacher didn't react, continuing walking around the cupboard.
"Hi Moony," the Doctor grinned, walking up to the teacher, walking behind him as he circled the wardrobe
"Doctor," Lupin nodded, after a silent moment. An expression of disquiet passed over his face
"Oh, I'm not supposed to know you're called that, am I?" the Doctor rolled his eyes, "You know, I keep doing that. Anyway, so you've got a Boggart in here?"
"Yes. It's for the lesson," Lupin nodded.
"I know," the Doctor shrugged, "By the way, there's a girl in that class, Hermione, a real bright spark. Looks an awful lot like Emma Watson. You might want to be careful of her."
"Why?" the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher frowned, before nodding, "Ah, I see. She might see that I'm a-"
"Exactly," the Doctor nodded. "I guess you know about Sirius too?"
"Sirius Black," Lupin pronounced the name easily, familiarly, "He's escaped from Azkaban."
"Pad-foot," the Doctor grinned, before wincing, "Not supposed to know that either, am I?"
Shrugging, the Doctor rapped once on the wardrobe, grinning as the Boggart inside knocked back. Then, with another, almost-childlike, grin, he ran over to a teapot, which rested gently on a table.
"A cup of tea, Doctor?" Lupin offered, absently levitating the teapot
"I've heard that before," the Time Lord muttered. "Tea's good though. Saved me on Christmas once, as well as a Satsuma. Have we got any Satsuma's? Oh well, at least you're not a Dalek," he paused mid-rant, "Are you? Nah, probably not. And yeah, ok. I like tea."
Frowning at the Doctor's bizarre monologue, Lupin poured two cups of tea with his wand, most of his attention still on examining the Boggart-holding wardrobe. He frowned, leaning forwards to tap and secure the lock with his wand. As the tip of the implement touched it, the door was flung open.
The Boggart quickly rolled out, taking the form of a minituare moon, just over Lupin. Tense, the teacher took a few steps away from it, an automatic reaction to the lunar light.
Sensing a need, the Doctor strolled, quite calmly, past Remus. The Time Lord stood still, facing the Boggart; the moon. It hesitated, indecisive, a split second before cycling through several forms, whole worlds of shapes, sizes and colours. A statue, a shadow, a Dalek, a Cyber-man, a shadow, a huge spider, a Sun, a Time Lord, a shadow-
"Riddikulus!" Lupin shouted, jabbing his wand at the creature.
The shadow, the shape it was momentarily in, dripped like treacle, turning to a bright, polka-dotted substance. Several charms later, and it was forced back, and locked, in the wardrobe.
"I have never seen anything quite like that," Lupin commented, slightly out of breath
"Oh, I have," the Doctor shrugged, "A lot of times. I've seen things that would give even that," he gestured towards the wardrobe, "Nightmares."
"Remarkable," the teacher responded simply.
"I try," the Time Lord grinned, turning to leave, tea in hand.
O
"Expecto Patronum!" Flitwick squeaked the incantation, holding a wall of light up against a Dementor.
Grey, scabbed hands tried to reach into the light; the Patronus flickered somewhat, but held firm. The spell was little more than a barrier, a swirl of white light, yet it proved enough to ward off the darkness of the Dementor.
Corpse-like flesh stared from beneath the hood, desperate, flailing against the shield. Flitwick chanted the spell once more, sending an extra jolt of energy to the Patronus, more energy to keep the Dementor distracted, satiated.
Still, the black cloaked fiend forced through the light, urgent, rushed, mad. Hands just piercing the thin, outer fringes of the Patronus. Casting a worried look up, Flitwick dredged up happier memories, throwing the spell once more.
"Expecto Patronum!" Snape's voice called across the grounds, a silver doe bounding along the grass. It ran towards the Dementor, forcing it back, taking the strain of Flitwick's flickering barrier.
With a few more bounds, the Dementor was forced out of the grounds.
And yet, still, many of the numerous guards of Azkaban were entering and re-entering the grounds. Why?
O
Hermione, Ron and Harry were gathered excitedly in the corner of the snowy courtyard. Dozens of other students, Third Year and up, were milling around elsewhere, buzzing. Only Harry seemed somewhat dejected.
"Oh, it can't be all that bad Harry," Hermione said, trying to cheer him up, "Professor McGonagall will understand."
"Nah, she won't," Ron shook his head, chewing on a sweet
"Ron!" Hermione elbowed the redhead. "She'll understand why the Dursley's didn't sign the form."
"Yeah, but I still won't be allowed to go to Hogsmeade," Harry mumbled, "Nah, don't worry. You go, I'll wait for you."
"You're sure, Harry? I don't mind staying," Hermione's voice trailed off
Harry looked up, surprised at the offer; but he saw the anticipation in her eyes.
"I'm fine," the black haired boy nodded, "Enjoy Hogsmeade."
"We'll bring you back something," Ron supplied.
Harry grinned.
More snow fell, a light dusting of the stone of the walls, statues, and the students. White fell, not unlike a Patronus, yet it had no effect at all on the Dementors gliding, quite some distance away from Hogwarts castle.
"Will all students, please return to their Common Rooms!" Professor McGonagall's voice sounded, amplified over the mutters of the waiting crowds; "All students, return to your Common Rooms."
A ripple of confused dismay passed over the group, yet the teacher was not forthcoming with answers.
Shooting a mildly hopeful look at Harry, Hermione obeyed; followed soon by her two friends.
O
Malfoy walked slowly to the Dungeons. Slytherin Common Rooms. Which was a pain; he was looking forward to Hogsmeade, his father had signed the form with gusto, or at least what passed for gusto with Lucius. The trips were highly recommended it seemed; naturally Draco wanted to go there.
He had little regard for Hogwarts rules, come to think of it.
On that note, the blonde stopped, momentarily hesitant, before turning, making his way back through the crowd. Many of the Slytherin students parted as he walked; and if they didn't Quidditch supporters and players made them. After all, his father has bought Nimbus 2001 broomsticks the previous year; that afford him a certain reputation among the players.
Hogsmeade was worth a visit; besides, was the danger likely to be at all major? This was a school, and it often overreacted.
He soon found his way out from within the castle; to a courtyard, quite near the dungeons. Dusting himself down, he started on his way. He could find his way to Hogsmeade, and a small visit would be worth it. Grinning in anticipation, making it through the pouring rain, it wasn't far until Draco reached the wall.
Now to get out. That shouldn't be hard-
A dark cloak brushed the back of his neck. Malfoy span around at the sudden sensation; backing right up against the wall as a hooded Dementor glared.
Silence. The black figure was unseen; just the torn, ragged cloth around it gave any clue it was there, that it watched. In the space of one, agonizingly slow, frosted breath, it drew closer.
No depression: Draco noticed that quickly, but didn't think on its significance.
Malfoy's eyes stared wildly, afraid of moving, the reaper-like figure watching. The misty air did nothing to conceal the blackness of the Dementor; it only accentuated the sheer lack of brightness.
With a sudden pang of fear, Draco realized that the hood was pulled backs lightly. Not a lot, but just enough to peer beneath it. He could see straight through, to emptiness.
Void. Dark.
Was…was there anything even in that ragged cloak?
The Dementor glared, lifting one, shadowy arm of its cloak, and in one beat of Draco's rocketing heart, moving it for the boy's throat. An instant of searing pain-
"Expecto Patronum!" Remus Lupin's voice carried through the chill air.
The white of the shield made the Dementor recoil, lifting a tattered arm of its veil in a futile attempt to ward it away. Faced with such blinding light, the gloom of the Dementor fled.
"I am quite sure McGonagall said to return to your Common Room," Lupin said lightly, "Now, go on. I know I-"
He stopped, for the first time focusing on Draco. He'd been injured by the touch of the Dementor, it seemed; a deep cut was gouged in the flesh around his neck, sterilized, neat, but so deep. Blood was starting to form around its edges.
The Slytherin gave no sign he'd heard Lupin, merely moaning incoherently, pale, shaking.
"Let's get you to Madam Pomfrey," Lupin murmured, lifting Draco up onto his shoulders.
O
"Is it truly wise to trust this…man?" Snape sneered.
He stood, with several other teachers and the Doctor, in the grounds of Hogwarts. Dumbledore, Lupin, McGonagall and Snape formed a ring around the Doctor, who'd just outlined a plan.
"I don't see a choice," the Doctor shrugged, in response to Snape's query about his plan, "When I call the TARDIS here, Amy and Rory will be an extra pair of hands, but I can't manage that just yet, and I really don't want to wait for answer. Things are boring in the right order, so why things always seem to be going that way, is beyond me."
"You propose to," McGonagall's voice quavered, "Call a Dementor?"
The Doctor grinned.
"Speak to it?" the teacher repeated, disbelieving. The Time Lord still grinned, nodding
"Talk solves most problems. Plus TARDIS translators," he tapped the side of his head, "Will help."
A few seconds passed. Rain fell down, pushed away by some shield a teacher had put up. Still, the dreariness, called by the presence of Dementors, presided.
Silently, Albus Dumbledore called his phoenix Patronus to his side. The comforting white light, as the magical bird circled above them, seemed to restore voice to the teachers.
"Unorthodox," Lupin began, "And I like it for that. But are you sure it will work?"
"Will anything work?" the Doctor shrugged
"True," the teacher said, light-hearted.
A few more silent seconds; Dumbledore's Patronus pulsed white light, once again causing conversation.
"I am curious," the headmaster spoke, "As to what gave you this idea."
"I like to talk," the Time Lord shrugged, "You probably noticed. Oh, and I heard the Dementor hissing when you summoned me. They don't hiss to your ears; the TARDIS is translating for me. And," the Doctor seemed to be made breathless from just that list, "Malfoy got wounded by a Dementor: that should not happen. So something's wrong with them."
Dumbledore creased his brow, nodding, slowly agreeing with the time Lord. Snape sneered as he watched, yet he too nodded, perhaps genuinely supportive, perhaps reluctant to disagree. Yet nonetheless, he agreed.
"Very well," McGonagall relented, "But I insist we have Patronuses ready."
With a quick flick of her wand, both she and Snape called animals of light: hers was a bespectacled cat, while Snape's was a doe.
The silver creatures circled the group once, before following Dumbledore's phoenix to a spot behind the Doctor, closer to the castle. The teachers too followed, leaving the Doctor alone.
The Time Lord stepped forwards, stepping out from the magical barrier and into the driving rain. Already a Dementor was approaching; possibly coming because it had seen the group of senior teachers. Whatever the cause, it was here.
"Hello!" the Doctor prolonged the call, waving, quickly catch the fiend's attention. The deep sable hood turned, grey, scabbed hands visible by its sides as the faceless cloak drew ever closer.
The Dementor's aura almost made the Doctor stumble; he was no stranger to sadness, yet he did not seek it out. Now all those tragedies in his past weighed on his mind. He could hear Rose crying, Donna sobbing, whole crowds of voices, screams and cries in his head.
He bore it. And the Dementor's hissing resolved into stretched, hoarse, phantom-like speech.
"You will listen to us."
The Doctor sensed it was meant to be a question, and yet the fiend in front of him seemed incapable of asking anything.
"I do," the Doctor played scenarios in his mind, play-acting to get through it. As if confronting all his fears, every cause of the sadness in his mind, he spoke boldly, resolute. "You wanted to talk?"
"Beware…us," the last word was contorted, prolonged into an indistinct, smoky noise
"I figured that," the Doctor replied
"You do not listen. Us. We have not changed. A foe has risen, it rules us: possesses us." The Dementor's voice was without a doubt unnatural. It was unused to speaking in this manner; while they sometimes contacted wizards, it was in a different way. Few understood this language.
"Something's controlling some of you?" the Doctor guessed.
"Us," the Dementor hissed. Its dark hood seemed to nod.
"What?" the Doctor spoke, questioning, urgent.
The Dementor hissed; just a noise this time, no speech concealed within. They did not know.
