Disclaimer: Yeah, I own EVERYTHING!!!!!!! That's why I waste my time on when I could be making millions! Hahahaha, what are you going to do?

Rating: Oddly enough it's actually the same exact rating as the last chapter. Weird.

Remus acting off in the last chapter? Well look at it this way. He just found out that his last surviving (or so he thought….icky Wormtail is still alive) childhood friend was innocent and he didn't believe him and he now has to teach DADA to an entire school, privately tutor Neville, and oh yeah, there is a WAR going on! So he can act a little off. And maybe he had a hangover, I don't know. He could have been high for all I know (okay, maybe not. My characters don't do drugs. –sniffs-)

Oh, and you want to flame? Flame to your hearts content! Give a bored author and her best friend something to laugh over!

WARNING: This chapter includes suicidal thoughts and previous attempts.

BTW, thank you to all my lovely reviews! Love ya guys to bits!!!!! Mwah!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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Stranger Standing Alone

Chapter Four:

Embers were slowly dying among smoldering ash and wood in a stone fireplace. A high back wooden chair with ornamental carvings lay on its side with its former occupier standing in rage in front of it. The man standing in front of it was an odd looking creature. He was extremely tall but very thin with a hood drawn up over his otherwise bare head. Red eyes that were twins to the embers dying behind him were smoldering like fire beneath his black hood. His nostrils were two slits above a lipless mouth that was busy shouting at a man that was cowering at his feet.

"Why were there dementors on the train? They have chosen their side-the dark side! You were supposed to be making sure that they stayed in line! Why weren't you in Azkaban at the time?"

"Please, my lord, please. The Ministry, they were getting suspicious-I was being watched! I had already gone into Azkaban three times in the past month; no other caretakers have ever gone in as often! I had no excuse to go in!" the cowering figure babbled desperately to the feet of his master.

"You have failed me, Thineus, and you know what happens if one fails me."

"No, my lord-please! Please, forgive me-"

"Crucio!"

Harry awoke screaming, hands clapped to his forehead, trying to still the pain that pulsed there. Squeezing his eyes shut he rocked back and forth waiting for the pain to subside. Slowly the pain dulled to a throb that promised a headache later on. Shaking, he picked himself up from the floor of the corridor outside the Common Room. He looked around and then glanced at his watch. 3:23 am. Sighing he looked at the portrait that guarded Gryffindor Tower. The Fat Lady was asleep but he didn't know the password anyway. Harry began to walk down the corridor in the opposite direction of the Common Room.

Harry began to wander the halls, go down familiar passages ways, reveling in the quietness of the normally busying and noising castle. He loved Hogwarts. The castle was his home, his friend. The only thing he could ever trust, the only thing that was constant, never changing, never hurting him in his life. He climbed a staircase, carefully stepping over the trick step near the top, he took a look around. He was by the Room of Requirement. He had discovered that room during his fifth year, when he had been wandering around during the night. He had often stayed there after he woke up screaming from pain from his scar in his bed. Walking three times before the blank wall he stood back has a large black door appeared. Stepping through the threshold, he went straight to the large bed and laid down, hoping to get a few more hours sleep before classes the next day.

Try as he might however, sleep would not come. Carefully rolling onto his side, Harry stared at the wall which turned into a window that opened onto the lake for him. He sighed and rolled to face the other closing his eyes. He almost hated the Room of Requirement. He didn't like that a room could tell him what he wanted, that a room could almost see into his mind and soul. He didn't like feeling open.

Growling in annoyance, he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Glancing down at his calves he winced, rubbing his hands over the large and rugged scar that lay on the left calf. He had done it when he had been 12. He had heard that there was a large artery in the leg, one that if cut would make you die of blood loss in a matter of minutes. It hadn't. Just like all the other times that had failed to kill him.

Harry frowned. The glamour should have hidden the scar. He knew that there wasn't much of a chance that anyone would be seeing his legs but he still always made sure everything was covered, just in case. He would have to research better glamour charms and soon or he would have to resort to muggle makeup again.

Harry stood up and made his way across the room to the door. It was obvious that he wasn't going to get more sleep tonight. He slipped through the door and made his way down the silent corridor. He was on the seventh floor and a few turns the right direction brought him to the steps of the North Tower. Harry made his way up the twisting staircase, up into the cool night air wrought with breezes. The boy stood facing the wind letting the soft breeze catch his face and lift his unruly locks. He stood there lost in thoughts about the past but the not the future. Never the future. He didn't want to think of the future, but not because of the normal reasons such as being afraid of changes and the unknown. No, he was afraid to think of the future because that the more he might think of it, the more he would have to live it. He couldn't bear the thought of having to continue, to having reminders of his past and even his present existence. He didn't want to have to think that he was trapped in his life, that for some unknown reason he wasn't able to move on, even by his own means. Most people's greatest fear is dying, Harry thought, but mine, mine is living.

It was more than cold. It was a deep bone chilling freeze that penetrated your blood and froze your very insides. But the ones gathering in this dark dank cold weren't affected. In fact they were the very reason that the cold existed. They were raging in sizes from a tall human man to a small child, wearing black cloaks. They had gathered in a dark room of dirty stone, making no noise except for the rattling gasps that were their breaths. No noise, until the one began to speak in a voice like a blackened whisper.

"Then the soul has been-"

"Nearly two decades past, " the largest and seemed to be leader of the group of dementors around him.

"How can that be," another whispered, "that soul was to never meant to be returned to a body.

Murmurs swirled like dead leaves around them, their cloaks rustling though no wind reached them.

"It was not," the leader finally spoke, "but it has been. And what has been done cannot be revoked."

"Then what can we do," spoke a figure in back.

"Is that you, Varanortht?"

"It is I, my Vizier."

"You have disappointed me, Varanortht, by allowing that soul to pass the Bridge. You know as well as the others who that soul once belonged to. Now that it has been reborn, it cannot die until its mission has been fulfilled. Its mission that it failed in the last times it was born into this world. And the last time was the seventh time. If it has progressed on to its eight time in this world the soul will be warped. It will not function properly and the person who possesses the souls can endanger all those who come in contact with it. Varanortht, you will find the one who possesses this soul. You will find it and bind it again to the Bridge of Souls. Do all you can to make this happen. And do it as soon as possible."

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A/N: This chapter is dedicated to my cat Spirit who died of kidney failure.

R&R!!!