§

There has never been, and never will be again, a crash of so many lives onto one day. The werewolf fallen, a girl standing, the team quietly invading an ancient castle, the dueling teacher and pupil that had ceased to be, a dark shadow suddenly finding a flame catch its sight as a snake sat on perch, preparing to march. But as we all only have two eyes to see, one nose to smell, two ears to hear, one tongue to taste, two hands to touch, and half a mind to think; life appears for us in scenes upon a video, with one person's point of view.

§

The great doors of Hogwarts opened with a faint click, barely audible in the muffled twilight air. Nymphadora wrapped the heavy black robe tighter against the chill. Inside her contained camouflage bubble her form stood a petite woman with dark golden skin and ebony hair.

"Did you get it?" The voice came out of the seemingly uninhabited area. A fine silhouette of almost clear mist was the only indication of Kingsley Shackelbolt.

Mundugus Fletcher was standing beside the great doors of Britain's finest wizarding school with an assortment of small knives, screws, and unidentifiable pointy objects.

"Look, just because Dumbledore lifted the wards for tonight's little parade doesn't mean that Hogwart's doors are simply going to spring open. I still have another lock, and it has a funny shape..." The convict began muttering to himself as skilled fingers picked through tools and keen eyes examined the slender crack between doors.

The female shifter looked out at the rapidly cooling night sky. Months had gone by, and it was now just a week before Halloween. It's been so busy lately, its nice to just be in peace for a few moments. Tonk's wide pink eyes looked up to the sky. The sun had already set, but its last traces cast gentle lights of pale yellow and brilliant orange into the oceanic-blue colored sky. The streamed clouds were lined in a soft violet color that streaked through the sky with dying red at the edge of the horizon. All this beauty now, but darkness would soon descend.

"Aha! Got it!" Dung pronounced happily as the door gave another click, and easily swing open.

The patched-up thief stood proudly at the open doors, hands gesturing inside as a broad smile covered his face.

"Yes, and you've also almost been loud enough to wake people up!" Another voice gave a low growl, an infamous voice that carried only less popularity than the wide eye of its owner.

The strangest thing about all the talk was that only one body was in sight, a filthy, torn-up pick-pocket leaning against the doors. The other voices had bodies hidden my magical cloaks. It gave the entire scene an eerily dismembered look.

Mundugus shrank, laughing nervously. "Whoa, there Mad-Eye. Look, I do my job and get the front doors unlocked, you and your little party get to go fight the scary witch lady. Everything works out, okay?"

"Right ho!" A younger voice chorused.

"On we go!" A second, near identical tone joined in perfect rhyme.

"Everyone keep your voices down." Kingsley spoke up softly. "We are about to go inside. We all know the plan and everyone knows their parts?"

A small murmur rippled through the invisible companions and one loud 'Aye!' The bodied man.

"Then, Fred and George, lead on." Mad-Eye Moody growled gentler.

Small footfall, and than the entire party moved into Hogwarts. Though they did not yet know it, it had become a race against time. And time had become Kryeen.

Let the games begin.

§

Harry was in agony. He had his mind penetrated before, in his Occlumency lessons with Snape and Lupin. But those had been quick, and he endured them so that way it could never happen again. He endured it to defeat Voldemort. Even when the Dementors had brought their frigid aura and delve him into the freezing lakes of his shadowed past, they were images only he could see. Harry could protect, could hide what he knew deep to his very soul and lock it into the morbid part of his existence where it lay dormant, being without causing anyone else harm even as it bled at times into his heart.

But this time, the break was very different. Potter could feel his Professor breaking through his mental barriers, her intensely heated aura a blind spot in his mind as she shattered through his walls like glass, breaking him. Further she plunged, wreaking havoc upon a sixteen-year old's mental self. When the-boy-who-lived recalled the feeling after a time, he could only proportion it with rape.

Then they came, the memories.

Once again he was in the cathedral-sized room full of shelves and glass spheres... His heart was beating very fast now... He was going to get there this time... When he reacher number ninety-seven he turned left and hurried along the aisle between two rows...

But there was a shape on the floor at the very end, a black shape moving on the floor like a wounded animal... Harry's stomach contracted with fear... with excitement...

A voice issued from his mouth, a high, cold voice empty of any human kindness, "Take it for me... Lift it down, now... I cannot touch it... but you can..."

The black shape on the floor shifted a little. Harry saw a long-fingered white hand clutching a wand rise on the end of his own arm... heard the high, cold voice say, "Crucio!"

The man on the floor let out a scream of pain, attempted to stand but fell back, writhing. Harry was laughing. He raised his wand, the curse lifted, and the figure groaned and became motionless.

"Lord Voldemort is waiting..."

Very slowly, his arms trembling, the man on the ground raised his shoulders a few inches and lifted his head. His face was bloodstained and gaunt, twisted in pain yet rigid with defiance...

"You'll have to kill me," whispered Sirius.(Ootp, pg 727)

And how true that statement became. Soon his past dream faded into nothingness and a new, deeply cut memory appeared in its place.

The second jet of light hit him squarely in the chest.

The laughter had not quite died from his face, but his eyes widened in shock... It seemed to take Sirius an age to fall. His body curved in a graceful arc as he sank backwards through the ragged veil hanging through the arch...(Ootp)

"SIRIUS!"Harry yelled "SIRIUS!"

Bellatrix's laughing voice guided him to the next vision, as waves of emotions crashed over him; hate over her shallow face, sorrow over Sirius's fall, and regret over leading them all there. It was his fault, always was.

§

A figure strolled across the lonely hallways, filled with scatterings of students trading wizarding cards, reading books, casting spells, and simply enjoying one another's company. The tall glass windows brisked in the day's last light into the torch-lit hallways. Stopping now and then to wave, or smile and chat, the girl made her way to a more secluded hall, her small feet echoing every now and then off the marble flooring.

Celia Magnatine was quite a popular girl. Her quiet disposition and never-ending smiles made her good company, and stunning looks a good catch. Yet, in the secret place of her heart she needed to be left alone at times. Quiet and shadow, to sit and think. It had become increasingly difficult with the Guardian of Slytherin on the loose, but the creature seemed to be sedated for now.

So naturally, she had stolen this break to stroll around the ancient castle so new to her, simply letting her mind wander and eyes rove over the artful design of the building she was now residing in.

Yet fate had other plans.

And in its own subtle way, it guided her subconscience steps down and around corridors, up stairs, across landings, and through doors. Until she came to rest at a classroom familiar to her. Then the girl noticed where she was.

Celia looked up at the tall double doors, bolted on the inside. She had been to this particular room more often than most, and knew the danger and prize that awaited through its sealed gateway. However, this was not her focus now.

What is that? She wondered as sounds fled through the thin cracks of stone. Glass shattering, and footsteps, loud ones. Celia hesitated, than slowly leaned her head against the warm door, brown hair cascading down her face as she listened intently. Now something else was unfolding, someone screamed a spell, one she didn't know very well, however she had caught the Latin word for water.

A water spell? What is the Professor teaching them?

Then there was a louder cry filled with adrenaline and heat, the familiar voice of Blair, an explosion that rocked the very stone the 6th year was standing on, and then a muffled silence. Celia held her breath, her heart suddenly racing and her deep azure eyes checked with worry, insecurity, hesitation even as her imagination hurled itself into overdrive and sent visions through her head. And then another feeling, one familiar and real to her, yet so far from reality. An ethereal hand trailed down her back, pushing her towards the door and mist began to fill her mind and the air whispered in her delicate ears.

"Open the door, save him... See inside and save him... He must live... Open the door..."

The teenage witch knew better than to ignore or disobey the voice. With a slightly shaking hand and forlorn thoughts, her pale, slender fingers wrapped around the door-knob and pulled gently.

The door gave a small creek as it cracked open for her. It was unlocked.

The brunette opened the door to allow a little sliver of it exposed, dipping her face close so that both blue orbs could grasp fully the sight that greeted her. Thoughts dribbled down her mind as she quickly swept around the strange class.

Despite the darkening world around it, the Defense Against Dark Arts classroom was as brightly lit as if under the influence of Amun-Ra. The flames lining the celling were dancing tall and wildly, glancing over the set golden tiles and painted walls. A hot blast touched her cheek, and right below her were bits of broken items; glass, porcelain, and the pale wood from one of the desks. A circle of students had gaped, forming a crescent far from the center of the room. They stood in fearful silence except for a small group, the red-haired boy and curly-haired girl she had seen that night were struggling to get away from five unknown Ravenclaws holding them down with a slightly chubby, bumbling boy with a brightness in his eyes as he screamed toward the two bodies in the center.

Professor Blair Kryeen was half-crouching, her complex hair damp with sweat and even-toned skin marked with streams of blood. Thick cuts sprung at her back, showing through holes in her loose, black linen t-shirt that was now folding into itself as she leaned over the other person, her eyes wild and far-away as one slender, strong hand held him up and another pressed atop his third eye.

Harry James Potter was lying in her arm, struggling weakly as his wind-tanned face contorted in pain, lips pulled, eyes squinting. His lean form shook and hands clenched against some unknown agony.

Shouts were coming from the strugglers in the crowd, but Blair ignored them all as she continued.

What is she doing to him? Celia's thoughts raced in panic, while her face shown with compassion. After a quick moment of indecision, she knew what she had to do. Retracting her head, she closed the door, taking but a moment to steady herself before gracefully running off.

§

It almost seemed digressive, the way the memories swarmed at him. From last year and Sirius's death, to his fourth year and Voldemort's return. The portkey trophy, Cedric's handsome face frozen forever by Wormtail's stream of green light, the horrible, maldeformed body of fallen Voldemort, Peter cutting his arm with the dagger, the foul smelling brew, his own blood being taken to complete the potion. Lord Voldemort rose anew, his laughter, the pale, spider hands and squashed snake-face. Hot coal eyes filled with cruelty and malice, death eaters all around him. The duel, Cedric's body...

Yet good courses wove through as well. His torture, defiance, and final defeat of the dreaded Umbridge with the help of Fred and George. Things as trivial as his column in the paper, the Ministry not believing him, the fake Moody. He saw his first ride on the broom, his instance dislike of Draco Malfoy. Back and back it went, falling into his youth. Meeting Sirius, losing the Nimbus, gaining the Firebolt, his misdeeds with the invisibility cloak and Norbert the Dragon. His loathing for Snape, classes he had taken, summers spent with the uncaring Dursley's, Professor Trelawny's predictions, his first real Christmas at Hogwarts, playing Wizarding Chess with Ron, catching the Snitch. Flashes became too fast and disoriented for Harry to catch. His fight with Tom Riddle, saving Ginny, riding a Hippogriff, his eleventh birthday, going to the zoo and setting the snake free, finding out he was a Parselmouth, his balance going from loved to hated, famous to infamous. There was Collin Creevy, Dolby and Winky, the Baskilsk set free and the trials before the sorceror's stone. It showed his unwavering loyalty to his Ron and Hermione, and their's to him. His mind was open so she saw his growing affection for Ginny, knowing the prophesy, fear of failing, training everyday, his beloved Headmaster that had come to fault, the Weasley clan. Every smile, every laugh, every tear, every scream that had ever passed through Potter she saw. Until her burning presence came to another one.

Lupin, the werewolf who helped with the Dementors. The Dementors who haunted him...

"Lily, take Harry and go! Go! Run! I'll hold him off—"

The sounds of someone stumbling from a room— a door bursting open— a cackle of high-pitched laughter—

"Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!"

"Stand aside, you silly girl... stand aside, now..."

"Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead—"

"Not Harry!" Please... have mercy... have mercy..."(POA, pg 179)

The dying words of the victim's parents floated in his head, and Harry felt himself rent with too many emotions, his soul itself was done. The fiery aura has left a gash in his mind, and then it had paused, letting his mind try to repair itself.

§

Celia was sprinting down the halls, her strong intuitive senses were screaming loudly that the hourglass was on its last grains, falling through time...

A faint click went off in the back of her mind, and the girl halted for a moment, catching her breath. The corridor she stood in looked empty, musty air buzzing around lazily. It was silent, the torches lighting the dim landing as she paused, cautiously glancing around the space. A moment passed, nothing changes. Magnatine stood perfectly still, her slender frame uprooting in the very center. A breath passes, another, the warning gets louder... Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a torch flicker.

The young witch drew her wand and let out a small gasp as a shadow moved in the wrong direction. There was faint murmuring, and the girl steadied herself for what was most likely the Guardian of Slytherin.

A hand pressed against her mouth, and another clamped over her wand.

"Hello, pretty one." A friendly, youthful voice muttered lowly to her. "Look, we are here to help,"

Another voice joined in suddenly, having the same rhythm as the first.

"But we can't have you ruin it,"

"So we'll going to let you go..."

"Just no screaming or hexing, and we'll give you a sample of our newest treat."

"Okay?"

Celia nodded carefully, her face calm and passive.

The pressure released from her, and two figures suddenly appeared.

Obviously twins, with matching orange-hair, bright freckles, smiling faces, and winking amber eyes.

"What are you here for?" The younger witch asked.

"Fred, George, enough already. Cast a charm and let's go!" A gruff, growling voice came from the seemingly empty landing.

"Calm down Mad-Eye," One of the two intoned.

"Yeah, we can't hex her for walking down the hall of her own school, now can we?" The other finished with a bright wink at her.

Moody muttered something to himself about, 'tying them all up' and 'idiots.' But made no move to stop them.

"Now then, my good lady," Fred began again, turning his bright face to her.

"We are here to help Hogwarts get rid of several pesky critters," George thought of a lie quickly.

"And have Dumbledore's full approval. So, we must be off now." Fred finished with a bow.

She looked at him with startling blue eyes, and somehow saw far deeper than he wanted her too, a singularly all-knowing serenity seemed permanent on her face. After a moment of thought, she replied.

"The room you seek is one floor above you, the second door to your left. You don't have much time now, so hurry."

They both opened their mouths in surprise, ready to ask the girl how she seemed to know what they were doing, but Tonks interrupted in her playful voice.

"And to think, we brought you to along as a guide."

"The girl's not telling a lie." Moody said suddenly. "Let's go."

With a shrug, George placed a small green candy in Celia's open palm.

"Cheers for you!" Fred said with a grin, and then the spell cloaked them again.

§

Harry began to feel something different from Blair's presence in his mind. At first it was bare wisps, but Harry began to grasp at them. Her aura burnt into his mind, but the boy-who-lived fought again, regaining strength as he pulled against her, pushing farther into conscience. There was a moment of disorientation, and then Harry saw other images float by as a wall shattered with his mental flailing. These memories were not his however. Snatches went by, searing into his thoughts as he kept fighting up to the living world.

A woman, with pale skin untouched by the sun and dark tresses of hair that whipped down her back. The face was beautiful, sensual lips, a small, straight nose, strong cheekbones, arching eyebrows, and eyes... Wide, hazel eyes flecked with dark auburn to light chestnut.

A small girl, tangled black hair across her gaunt face, long fangs protruding from her chapped, torn lips as dirt and blood patched over her face, eyes a deep, fathomless night. Her small wrists were chained to the wall, and her face was leaning over a dead body, drinking and tearing at it hungrily as the cruel binds dug into her already slit wrists. Bruises, cuts, burns dug into her sickly skin as the horrifying image crossed Harry's sight. The room was covered with dried blood that teased her senses, the body still a little warm as she feasted on it. Weapons of various kinds hung on the wall across from her, out of her reach. Whips, Canes, knives, stars, clubs, a hot iron; all of them non-fatal. This was a torture room. No light penetrated it, so that you could not even see the wall where the chains led to, only the blackened silver cutting deep grooves into her tiny wrists.

A voice, calm and caring, knowing and gentle, was talking. Then there was running, running like never before. The ground was filled with moss, grass, leaves, and damp earth that cushioned her feet and became springs to help her leap across the sky. Wind rushed past, egging her on to beat it, to defy the coursing breeze as the moon illuminated her eyes in soft, comforting light and the dark night sky set the wild, untamed power free.

But now Blair was fighting back. Harry wondered why it had taken her so long. But he soon forgot that as a hard, branding iron wall came crashing down on his aura. The pain was intense, but the determined wizard tore himself up to the waking realm.

§

"Let go of Harry you bitch! What are you doing to him?" Ron roared, tearing against his holders.

"Stop it! Stop it!" Hermione had gone nearly hysterical when Harry fell limp in her arms.

Suddenly there were muffled voices outside the door, and then a loud bang as they shot off their hinges and sent a fine layer of dust everywhere.

"Ron, Hermione!" Tonks suddenly came running in all the confusion.

"What?" Ron muttered, confused by the turn around of events as dust filled the air and a small party of Order members leaped into the room.

"Tonks," Hermione wasted no time, her face glistening from newly fallen tears of fear and anger. "It's Harry! Blair's done something to him!"

The female witch cursed under her breath and swiveled around to the center of the room, where Kingsley, Moody, another wizard by the name of Venn, short, lean, and hawk-faced, and a witch named Marrissa, tall, bony, and almost cat-like in features, had surrounded Blair and Harry.

As the dust cleared the scene changed abruptly. Harry's green orbs shot open with shock, and his professor promptly dropped him, a hiss of pain escaping her lips, but golden eyes never leaving the boy.

Harry fell with fear and hope, and Moody wasted no time in casting a levitation charm. The boy floated a few inches from the sharp tiles. At first, his mind was blank, but rushed, everything came hurtling down. Unbroken, scar-face turned straight at his Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor. He wanted to scream at her, punch her, or simply laugh hard. But then the strange memories resurfaced. The small girl's image was horrifying and he wondered who's it was. In a question, Harry lifted his bright jade eyes and looked, or more so glared, at Blair. What he met, however, was the last thing he expected.

Kryeen stood still, letting the blood flow slowly down her clear, warm skin. Her muscles were taut, lean body stretched and flaming hair still flowing. But the eyes, the daringly old and angrily new eyes had changed. A fire still reflected in them, bright but contained, so that Potter could see flashes in the back, but they were hard to describe... Unsure, confusion, respect? The underage wizard had been steeled for her wrath, not for this. For in that moment, in that single breath, Professor Blair Kryeen looked human.

It was broken in an instant however.

Racing footsteps and panting breath rounded on the door as Fred and George appeared again, flushed and sweaty.

"Moody, Tonks," The first one gasped.

All eyes flickered away, save for one large, inhuman blue one that was fixated on the professor and the student in the center.

"It's Lupin! He's been attacked!"

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A/N- sorry over the delay. I hope the length will make up for it a little. So what do you all think? Should I kill Remus? Or keep him alive? And what about Professor Blair? Who was the black-haired girl?