I'm back, everyone! Schoolwork keeps you real busy, so I'm so, so, so, so (ten minutes later) so sorry for the long wait! I know, it's not fair of me and I'll try harder gettingthe chapterup quicker (no guarantees though)! Thank you for reading this, and everyone give a big hand to hedwig136 and Gabwr. They have always been my constant reviewers and deserve an acknowledgement! I see many are reading, but not as many reviewing. I beg you, take the time to review and tell me what you think because it means soooo much. Thanks! Kudos to all who do- you help me keep going even when I have writer's block!
BIG thank you Aisha-ladimoon for the long review. You rock! (wink). Another big thanks to Harryisagod for reviewing as well! I luv you peoples.
Note: If any of you know what floor Dumbledore's office is on and which the Hospital Wing is on, that would be gratefully appreciated!
Disclaimer: One day, AngelMoon Girl owned Harry Potter... then she woke up from her dream and had to face the cruel reality (tear).
oOo
A mournful week passed by unbearably slowly, and Harry and Ron did the best they could to console the sometimes-hysterical Hermione. For the first few days, the brain girl spent all her time in the girl's dormitories, brooding in sadness. Harry's heart went out to her- he knew the pain loss brought, and knew that despite many of the best people's efforts, it was hard to cope and believe the words of 'It'll be OK, you'll see.' After that, Hermione began attending her usual classes once again, but it was with a determined air to avoid sympathy that she went about her day-to-day activities. The girl distanced herself from everyone, even going as far as to seat herself all alone every day. Harry and Ron fell behind in their homework as effect, partly because they needed the girl's help and partly because they could not bring themselves to do it out of sick worry.
The next Monday, the day dawned bright and early as Harry sleepily made his way into the common room, rubbing his eyes into awareness. As the fog sleep created lifted, he saw a bushy-haired girl at the corner desk, snoring loudly. Hermione looked exhausted; eyes blood-shot with dark circles around them as she slept, head upon a large stack of books. Cautiously, Harry approached her and gave the girl a nudge.
"Hermione?" Brown eyes (A/N: Are Hermione's eyes brown or hazel? Let me know if you know; I'm just hazarding a guess here!) snapped open, gazing at Harry with a mixture of reproachment, astonishment, and anger. The anger won over the other emotions.
"What was that for?" she demanded, voice taking on a cool edge. She sounded positively un-Hermione like as her eyes narrowed dangerously.
" 'Mione, you're exhausted!" Harry chided, trying to keep his voice calm as the hurt tried to overwhelm. "It's not good to bury yourself in your studies like this; it's not good for your health."
"Why should I care? Voldemort didn't give a damn when he killed my parents and left me an orphan! No one understands! I'm drowning in my own sorr-" The girl suddenly choked up, eyes filled up with tears as her voice descended to a pleading whisper. "Oh Harry, I'm so sorry... I forgot, I'm sorry!" Harry gave her a sad smile, understanding that she had forgotten about his loss of relatives in the heat of the moment.
Hermione continued. "You and me are a lot alike now, aren't we? Harry, I know how horribly you feel now... it's terrible, like someone's ripped out a piece of your heart..." The girl shuddered, then gave a ruthless, self-cruel laugh. "Look at me, dwelling on my pain! You must hurt double, now that you've lost Sirius too..." Harry flinched at his godfather's name- the hole of grief hadn't fully closed yet. He shook his head obstinately, forcibly grabbing Hermione by the shoulders to look her in the eye, to make her understand.
"Hermione, it doesn't matter who's lost more! It's that we've lost someone; someone dear to us at the hands of Voldemort. It doesn't separate us; it unifies us, brings us closer together in our fight for justice, and gives us a meaning to fight even the more harder, for their sake!" Hermione's glossy eyes widened at the realization, and she launched into Harry's arms to hug him tightly, sobbing.
"I'm so sorry for snapping at you like that, Harry! And you're right, I need to get on with life and not dig myself into a deeper hole of misery and self-destruction," she related, but then the abated emotion rose up and took over her once more. Harry felt a solitary tear slide down his face, and he brushed it away unwantingly. It was his silent battle againstweakness.
oOo
That evening, Harry entered Professor Dumbledore's office for their second Occlumency lesson this school term. Harry had been trying to occlude his mind every night before bed, and so far it had been working. Now, he hoped his wall would hold firm against Dumbledore's mental intrusions.
"Good evening, Harry," Dumbledore greeted, inclining his head politely. Harry smiled back as he took his usual seat.
"Same to you too, sir." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled madly as he leaned back in his armchair, observing Harry fondly.
"Firstly, I'd like to congratulate you on your effect on Miss Granger. Thankfully, it seems to be having a positive uplift on the girl," Dumbledore beamed, and Harry saw a hint of pride in the old man's clear blue eyes. "On a different, yet related note, I have a question to ask you. Have you filled in your friends on the prophecy?" Harry looked down at his trainers ashamedly, mumbling the answer in the negative.
"Yes, I thought so." Harry looked back up at this statement, and Dumbledore's eyes connected with his, gazing into Harry's green depths intently, a serious air about the Headmaster. "You need to tell your friends, Harry. You need them just as much as they need you. They deserve to know the truth." Harry nodded.
"Promise me you'll tell them. It doesn't have to be any time soon; it can be on your own time. But please, say you will." It wasn't an order, but Dumbledore fostered hope that his Golden Child would follow through. Harry was silent for a fraction of a second, seemingly indesicive.
"I promise," he agreed at last, and he meant it. He just didn't know when he would do it. It was hard telling your friends you were the only one to defeat the greatest wizard just below Dumbledore, and even worse informing them that you'd either be a murderer or murdered. The world's fate was burdened on his shoulders, and now it was his duty to let some people in on the secret...
oOo
Another day passed, and Hermione began returning to her usual self. Indeed, that morning she ran at Ron and Harry in the Great Hall, beaming. It was the first smile they'd seen from her in a while, and it suited her more than tears.
"Dumbledore told me that Harry and I are going to live with you in the summer and over Christmas vacation, Ron! Mrs. Weasley had told him she was thrilled to take us in, because she already considers us as part of the family!" Both of the boys broke into smiles too, ecstatic. It seemed as if they were one big family now, tied even tighter together with the bond of friendship. Harry felt his insides grow with happiness. The family he never had...
Hermione broke into his reverie teasingly. "Why're you still standing there? Taking in the beauty of floor tiles? We'll be late for Defense Against the Dark Arts if you don't get a move on!" Harry chuckled, following her out of the Great Hall with Ron close at their tails.
When they entered the classroom, instantly the trio was blanketed in darkness. The only light came from dimmed torches perched upon the wall. Even the windows had been draped with curtains, blocking out even the merest suggestion of sunlight.
"What's this about?" Hermione questioned, as if one of the other two would know what was going on, eyes swiftly searching for Professor Livey. No sooner had she said this when the man's silky voice protruded out from the abyss. All muttering ceased.
"There is no need for you to take your seats. Today is a very 'hands-on' class," his voice informed. The professor moved out of the shadows, making himself visible to his pupils. Oddly, Harry thought he looked a little more stressed than usual- dark circles encompassed his eyes, but Harry surmised it could have just been a trick of the light playing off the walls from the flambeaux.
"What're we doing today?" Seamus Finnigan's voice asked from somewhere on Harry's right- he could not see his classmate. Livey moved foward slowly, looking a little intimidating as the light cast ominous shadows on his features.
"Today, we will have a dueling contest for pairs. The winners earn ten points each for their respected Houses." An excited gleam entered his eyes. "Let's begin."
The class was split up into randomly chosen pairs, courtesy of Professor Livey. Harry found himself holding his breath as the Defense Master picked his opponent.
"Potter, Potter... why don't you go with Blaise Zabini over here," the man said, gesturing to a tall, lanky black Slytherin boy. Harry nodded stiffly. His optimistic side reminded him that 'Hey, it least it wasn't Malfoy'.
The pairs were instucted to stand together, and Harry and Blaise did so with utmost uncomfort. Harry avoided the Slytherin's eyes, looking everywhere but at him. Zabini did the same, as he wasn't keen on making any contact whatsoever with Harry either. It was common knowledge that Gryffindor and Slytherin House did not get along.
"Now, turn and face your partner. Shake his or her hand, then take three big steps back and get into dueling position." Harry and Blaise turned, and Harry offered out his hand. The two shook, letting go rather quickly. Harry gladly took the three steps backward, feeling a bit unnerved being so close to one of Malfoy's croonies. Harry had sometimes seen Zabini hanging out with Malfoy on occasion, and Harry liked to disassociate himself with anyone having anything to do with his enemy.
"When I say 'Go', I want you to fire curses at your partner.They cannot be deadly or harmful in any way, lest it is your wish to be immediately expelled from Hogwarts forever," Livey stressed. "The Unforgivables are a serious crime as well and any who uses one faces more than expulsion- the penalty is Azkaban (many faces turned a bit ashen at this), and I emphasize that these curses are NOT to be used in this classroom or anywhere else. Use the spells you have learnt previously...GO!" It was as if a bomb went off in the classroom. The darkness erupted into flares and streams of multicolor spells, lightning up the room in blinding flashes. There was much yelling and commotion as people casted, dodged, and counter-attacked spells.
Harry and Blaise began at once, Harry taking the first, offensive aim as Professor Livey cried: "GO!"
"IMPEDIAMENTA!"
"PROTEGO! Stupefy!" Harry dodged the Stunning Charm easily.
"Fernacula!"
"Engorgio!"
"Protego! Impediamenta!" The curses flew back and forth, and Harry soon realized that this was vainly futile. Simply firing and blocking curses was getting them nowhere; it just produced a repeating monotone. He schemed up a plan; one where he would shoot out a spell to distract/occupy Blaise whilst Harry casted yet another. Harry's swift gaze fell upon the window curtains centered above Zabini's head. He pointed his wand up at them, momentarily confusing his opponent.
"Reducto!" The curtains ripped from their supports and fell on an astonished Zabini.
"Wingardium Leviosa!" the boy exclaimed, just in time. The curtains flew away, but Harry took his distraction as an opportunity to shout:
"STUPEFY!" Blaise's head shot in Harry's direction, seeing the red spell fly at him but too late to do anything about it. He was lifted off his feet and flew back unconscious, skidding across the floor to rest motionless.
"Excellent, Potter!" Livery praised in rewarding tone. "Ten points to Gryffindor." Harry smiled crookedly, spirits not really into it. He hated having to hurt others for no particular reason but practice. In his mind, it was cruel and didn't make sense.
Professor Livey noticed this and put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "You'll get used to it." For some reason, this didn't make Harry feel better... perhaps worse, but not better. He wasn't sure he'd ever want to get used to hurting others, even just for defensive measures. Livey pointed his wand at Blaise Zabini's limp form. "Ennervate!"
The Slytherin's eyes flew open, moving to Harry immediately. Harry couldn't decipher his expression as he sat up, still staring at the Boy-Who-Lived.
"Sorry about that," Harry apologized, feeling the need, especially during the uncomfortable silence. For a moment, the teen just stared at Harry, then gave a curt nod showing he'd understood and accepted the apology.
The professor moved to the front of the room, calling for a halt to the individual duels. He clapped his hands and the flames of the torches shot up, lighting up the room instantly and whisking away the blackness. Harry and many others had to blink a few times to cleartheir vision and become accustomed to the brightness. Harry also noted that his suspicions were correct; Professor Livey did look decidedly tired.
"That will be all for today. The bell's going to ring any moment, and I don't want to delay you on your mad frenzy to lunch, so I'll give out the homework now." Groans reverbated throughout the room, but Livey smiled. He had a genuine sense of humor and found the opposition hysterical. "I'd like a foot and a half on the spells you cast during your duel and why you think they did or did not work." The bell rang out systematically, echoing through the castle. "Good day; enjoy your lunch."
Ron moaned as he, Harry, and Hermione made their way to the Great Hall- one of someone in pernicious trouble.
"Like I actually remember the spells I used!" Ron had been paired with Justin Finch-Fletchley, a formidable adversary in spell-casting, being a member of the DA and slightly more advanced than Ron. "It's not as though I really planned them; they just sorta came to my head and rolled off my tongue- everything was happening so quick so I wasn't exactly planning anything!" Hermione rolled her eyes with a noise of disgust and Harry laughed.
"Boy, you'll last long in a battle with a Death Eater, won't you?" he jeered good-naturedly. Ron punched Harry's arm playfully, but his tone was serious.
"Least I'll have you to back me up." Harry smiled back at this show of loyalty, touched at the genuinity of the simple statement. Harry knew his friends were always going to be there with him; by his side to the very last battle and a stronghold through thick and thin.
Once they were settled at their usual spot at the table, Hermione pulled out her Daily Prophet and began to scan through it. She hadn't had a chance to read it at breakfast because she had been speaking with Dumbledore about the housing arrangements now that her parents had passed on. Ron and Harry eyed her inquiringly. They always wanted to know who'd died now that Voldemort was back and in force, as well as open to the public eyes. Hermione scanned the obituaries for them, a relieved look crossing over her features. For once, the only people who'd died were of natural causes.
"Nope, no one we know." Harry let out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding. It seemed that lately, many people were being slaughtered. It irked him that suddenly it had stopped, and now he wasn't sure if this was a good or bad sign... he'd have to talk about it with Dumbledore later.
"Well that's good," Harry responded instinctively. Hermione gasped, exclaiming:
"This isn't!" Instantly, Ron and Harry were upon her like vultures.
"What? What?" Hermione turned the paper around and pointed at an article on the second page. The headline read: Dementor Sighting in Hogsmeade. Hermione laid the paper flat on the table, smoothing the wrinkles out so they could read it. Then she silently read the article aloud to the two boys. It wasn't that long, as the sighting wasn't confirmed and only spotted by two people- not a likely story in the Prophet's world and therefore the reason why it wasn't headline, front-page news. According to the Honeydukes manager and his wife, dementors had been been spotted gliding down the streets and air last night. Unfortunately for them, they were the only ones to see this phenomena and therefore not taken entirely seriously. Whether a fearful hallucination (as had been happening lately- many claimed fanatical stories about Voldmort looking in their window) or a real sighting, no one knew. That didn't dampen Harry's bad feeling though.
The break proceeding lunch proved useful to Harry as he planned out the Quidditch tryouts that were to happen that evening. As Quidditch Captain of the Gryffindor Team, it was Harry's duty to oversee it and choose who the new members were to be. So far, they needed two new beaters and two new chasers. Katie Bell and Ron were still on the team, and didn't need replacing. Many hopeful Gryffindors had signed up to tryout, and Harry doubted he'd get a chance to see each and everyone's if each person were to do their's separately. At last, Harry decided to have everyone tryout at once, and narrow it down from there. Perhaps then he'd be able to make his final decision, and have things go along much quicker. He really did have a lot of homework tonight!
oOo
It wasn't long before classes ended and Harry was heading down with Ron to the Quidditch Pitch, Firebolt in hand. Harry had asked Professor McGonagall if Ron could be made assistant Quidditch Captain. Amazingly, she had agreed only too complyingly, saying it would be beneficial to the team. Ron was ecstatic about this, chatting very animatedly with Harry about some quidditch plans he had in mind. Harry was grateful for this- he didn't have too many plans in mind.
They reached the Pitch, and Harry's mouth hung open in astonishment. It looked as if over a hundred people had shown up, all sporting various models of brooms. About another hundred, mostly younger years and those too busy to play quidditch (i.e. the Hermione group) had vacated a section of the stands to spectate the event. Ron had to elbow Harry in order to get the boy to stop gawking and get moving. They entered the field, and the tryouts began.
It took about an hour of skillful flying, watching, dramatical/hysterical tears, and a lot of tapering down before Harry finally made his decision, backed up by Ron. The two new chasers were Ginny Weasley, who had filled in for Harry due to his ban last year, and a strong, well-flying, and competitive fifth year named Maria Lauriels. She had long, brown hair that the girl routinely kept up in a sporty ponytail. Maria was well-built and skilled with hand-eye-coordination, something Harry fancied would be very helpful when scoring goals with the quaffle.
To fill in the beaters' position, Harry chose two strong seventh year boys, Michael Moore and Stephen Portier. The two worked well together, forming a dangerous duo. Both sported muscular arms and, like Maria, were gifted with hand-eye-coordination. This factor also proved useful when decking heavy balls at flyers. Even better, the two were excellent flyers and dodged superbly.
The new Gryffindor Quidditch Team met in the locker rooms. Harry made his talk quick; already, chilly end-of-September dusk had set, painting the sky a deep periwinkle. Dinner had begun in the Great Hall. The boy announced that their first practice would be a week from then, working into each's busy schedules. Their first match with Ravenclaw would occur as October died away, and Harry felt sure his fresh, talented team faired a good chance of coming out victorious.
The meeting ended and the team trudged up to the castle, chit-chatting about how excited and apprehensive they were about the coming match. Harry lagged behind the group, conversing with Ginny.
"So how are you, Harry?" Ginny asked, giving him a dazzling smile that made Harry's heart flutter. He didn't take the time to ponder this new feeling though as the petite fifth year continued on. "I haven't really had much time to talk to you." Harry shrugged and returned the grin.
"S'OK. I'm fine," he responded. "I wanted to thank you for taking over seeker position last year when I was banned. You were great!" No regret was held within Harry for this; he had been truely grateful that Ginny took his place when he couldn't play. Ginny blushed modestly, unconvinced of her own prodigious talent.
"That was only because that cow Umbridge sacked you for no reason! I would've done the same to Malfoy if he'd just dissed my parents. Really, I'm not as good as you- I don't even come close!"
Harry frowned. "I wouldn't go that far..."
Ginny giggled and punched Harry's arm, and the boy feigned a large moan. "Ow... God, you've got some strength!"
"I wouldn't go that far," Ginny teased, repeating his previous words. Harry scoffed playfully, feeling totally at ease with this little red-head. His vision caught on Hagrid's hut, and he realized with guilt that he hadn't gone to see Hagrid yet this school year. Harry informed Ginny of this.
"OK. See you at dinner!" Ginny called, continuing on the journey up to the castle while Harry made a turn in the direction of the big, one-room house that Hagrid called his own. The windows glowed, light cascading out onto the darkened ground. Harry automatically surmised his giant friend was home, but the sureness turned to doubt as his knocks brought no response. Not even Fang barked! Harry soon found himself banging loudly.
"HAGRID! HAGRID, ARE YOU THERE?" Harry shouted. Not even the smallest noise came from within the hut. Harry sighed, ceasing his infernal fight with the door. He was just about to head up to the Great Hall, pulling his robes closer around his thin body to block out the sudden chill, when a low whimper reached his ears, from far away. It seemed to be coming fromin theForest, and Harry's ears did not deceive him as the whine grew stronger... he knew who it belonged to as his heart filled with ice-cold dread, doing somersaults unwillingly... Fang! Wherever Hagrid went, his boar-like dogFang followed. And if Fang was hurt... Harry letout a strained whoosh of air, eyes full of fear. Hagrid could be injured as well!
Abandoning all sense in worry of his friend, Harry pulled out his wand and stealthily made his way into the Forbidden Forest, following the whimper. It was growing less and Harry feared the sound would stop and leave him stuck, unsure of which way to go. His heart was racing like crazy, and his withdrawn arm was trembling. What would he find? Darkness engulfed him, for the trees let in no light. Harry shuddered, unknowing if it was because of his panic or that fact that it seemed to be growing colder. Or perhaps it was the terror beginning to settle in the pit of his stomach, threatening to strangle him cruelly...
The whine stopped, and so did Harry. He strained his ears for even the littlest sound, ignoring the alarm bells ringing in his head, saying something was wrong and he should go back and get help before heading any farther. But what if it was too late? Time wouldn't stop for anyone, nor destiny. Harry didn't need to listen hard, for a loud roar that belonged to Hagrid reverbated throughout the Forest. Harry's eyes widened and he began running, not caring if anyone could hear him. His heart and head pounded as he sprinted in farther deeper at the direction of the noise. Not even his body registered the sudden dip in the temperature.
Then came the sounds, and immediately, Harry knew what he was facing. Who could mistake the sickening, rattling breaths? It only steadied Harry's resolve to save Hagrid.
Harry saw it next. Adorned in death black robes... white, clammy hands... hovering a few inches above the ground... a dementor- and it was about the perform the final Kiss on Hagrid!
"NO!" Harry pointed his wand at the Kiss giver, who's lips were almost upon Hagrid's. The boy ingnored the sounds playing in his head. The giant had fallen unconscious, unable to fight back. "EXPECTO PATRONUM!" A filmy white stag erupted out of the wand and rushed at the dementor, closing in on it and sweeping the thing away with its horns. The dementor flew into the air and was banished into the night. Harry ran over and fell down next to Hagrid, who lied spread-eagle on the ground. He was pale and shaking visibly. Fang huddled close to his master, trying to provide body warmth- it didn't seem to be enough. Harry unclasped his cloak and draped it over the giant, praying it would be enough.
"Hagrid? Can you hear me?" Hagrid made no movement in response, aside from the shivering. Harry'sbrain panicked over a way to get Hagrid back to the castle. He knew he had to go find help, if he could find the way out of the godforsaken Forest! However, leaving Hagrid was lowest on his list of priorities. Should he drag him back? Harry berated himself for the ludicrous thought. 'No, that's stupid. I'm not thinking straight. What do I do?' The last thought tumbled out, for Harry had truely no clue. His brain seemed fogged over, making just thinking hard. Voices seemed to be speaking inside his head, and they were growing stronger...
Harry stumbled up, clutching his head and wondering if he'd finally cracked. The reason was not far to be found, and Harry gave a loud cry when he saw that thirty or so new dementors were circling in upon him, on all sides. Their soul-thirsty breathes they sucked in rattled unpleasantly. All bloodied hands reached out for the boy, seeking Harry blindly and relying on smell. Harry's scent of his soul was strong, for it echoed pureness, nobility, and virtue. A prize like that was not easily found, and every dementor desired such a treasure. This was why the dementors always were so"fond" of Harry.
The horrible memories played like a radio in Harry's head, blocking out his vision. Harry's parent's last, pleading words and oppostion to the Dark Lord, and Lily's Potter's dying screams of "HARRY!"... All the cruel years spent with the Dursleys... Voldemort mocking him in fourth year at the Graveyard, killing Cedric, forcing him into a ridiculous bow and a duel to the Death... the Cruciatus raging through Harry... Sirius' body curving into a graceful arc as he fell through the veil... Voldemort's last attack on Harry in the summer... All of the worst moments of Harry's life meshed together, flying by but feeling unbearably real, as if experiencing each once again. Vaguely, Harry knew he had to fight it, but it was so hard just to speak...
"Ex-exp-p-pecto... P-patronum!" Harry gasped out, feeling himself hyperventilating in the fight to get enough air. A feeble mist of smoke was all his wand could produce. Harry tried to draw in great lung fulls of air, but it grew more labored as he felt a clammy hand clamp around his neck, slightly damp and beyond gross. The hand pulled him foward, and Harry unwillingly registered that his feet were dragging across the Forest floor. He felt the frozen breath on his face within moments, and Harry was filled with sadness. Through the images, Harry recalled Ron and Hermione, laughing and talking... would he ever see them again? God, he wished he would! Harry dwelled upon that memory, trying to not let it escape and force him back to watching all the bad ones. He used it to try and draw himself back to the scary reality he was facing, and it was as if a fire welled up in him, bursting out... literally. The raw magic produced in Dumbledore's office came out from within him, striking the dementor. It gave a terrible screech, being enveloped with the white power. It looked like the power was strangling the dementor! There was a blinding, black flash and overwhelming smell, then the dementor was nothing but a smouldering pile of robes on the leafy ground.
Harry stared at it, petrified frozen and weak-kneed. Had he really done that? He didn't even know destroying a dementor was possible! The magic had taken a toll on Harry, and he knew he was going to black out soon. It was all the boy could do to cling onto the thin thread that was consciousness. And the rest of the dementors were still there, unfazed by the destruction of one of their own. They all closed in at once, hands touching Harry everywhere. The boy's vision blurred, and the memories returned in full. He knew, this time, that he didn't have enuogh strength or power to destroy another. He was going to die, and there was nothing he could do... Expecto Patronum was worthless when the caster just barely bordered on the edge of awareness. The anguish was becoming unbearable...
He suddenly felt something cold on his chest... something circular and solid that wasn't a dementor's hand. The Protering! Harry hands flew to it, and he sqeezed the ring weakly, but it was enough.
"Protering...Activate!" The metal seared white-hot, then cooled. Now if only Dumbledore would get there in time, before Harry was a senseless, lifeless being, neither here nor there without his precious soul.
Two dementor's faces pressed in on the boy. He pulled back his head in revulsion and fear, but another strong hand grasped his hair and yanked him painfully foward and up to the looming lips. They were almost on his, and Harry's heart seemed trying to displace itself, it beat so hard. That sound was the only Harry heard clearly, through the blur of the memory ones and the sounds of the dementors' breathing. Those black death lips were the last thing Harry saw before exhaustion and terror overwhelmed him, and with eyes rolling into the back of his head, Harry fainted. However, the memories obstinately remained; a living nightmare.
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Sorry about that. I'm real evil, ain't I? Wonder what'll happen... -grin-. Please, please, please review cause I REALLY wanna know what y'all think. Stay tuned; I'll try and get the next chapter up ASAP.
Luv- Angel
ReViEw, ReAdErS!