The remainder of my time in Diagon Alley passes by in a blur, and before I know it, September first has arrived, and I'm heading back to Hogwarts.

It will be nice to go there again. It's been far too long…

'You were there last year!'

Incomplete possessions are hardly a worthwhile way to appreciate something as grand and beautiful as Hogwarts.

'And a partial possession is better?'

…Marginally. The sensations are less muted when I'm in your body.

I roll my eyes and go back to the book I'm reading. Tamelyn has been very insistent that I learn as much as possible about the wizarding world as I can. My current book is about politics, a very boring subject by any standard, and like most things, wizards have somehow managed to make it worse.

'So, the legislative body is entirely hereditary?'

Yup.

'And it's run by the families with the most money and power.'

Of course.

'And they mostly just pass laws that are either reactionary or purely beneficial to themselves?'

Reactionary laws that they then forget to repeal later. The law books of Magical Britain are filled with so many contradictory laws that it's possible to find a legal justification for almost anything short of ending a pure blood line.

'This sounds like the most inefficient legal system possible.'

Is it really any wonder that I wanted to overthrow the government?

'…Not really.'

The train goes around another curve, and the slumped, sleeping form of Mister Lupin is pushed against the wall. Hermione assumes he's going to be a professor, though I have no idea why he'd be riding the train with us if that was true. Didn't the teachers use the floo or do teleporty thing?

Apparition.

Right, that. Anyways, it seems odd. Hermione suspects that he's here because Black is on the loose, and supposedly coming after me if what Mr. Weasley told me is true. Honestly, I don't really get it. I don't see how someone could be sane enough to break out of a high security prison yet insane enough to try and kill a high-profile figure. If he has any sense, he'd be out of the country by now.

I think everyone's overestimating him because he broke out of Azkaban, and they assume he did so using some kind of unspecified and incredibly convenient "Dark Magic". Honestly, wizards will assume that anything they don't immediately understand is Dark Magic. It's why so many people feared me and thought I was dark. They didn't understand me.

'You split your soul!'

Well, if people were going to call me dark no matter what I did, I certainly wasn't about to limit my repertoire over reasons as silly as morals. Anyways, I do hope we run into Black, if only to pass a message along to my core self. It would be very inconvenient to me if you died, and horribly embarrassing if it were to happen at the hands of my core self.

I put the Wizengamot book back in my bag and grab a different textbook at random. Unfortunately, I pull out my copy of Unfogging the Future.

'I still can't believe you made me take divination. I really wanted to take runes. Just reading this textbook makes it all sound like crap.'

From my admittedly limited understanding, it is a bit of a dodgy subject. Few wizards seem to understand that prophecies and other forms of future telling are either abstract or self-fulfilling, making them useless either way. The field does include some freeform casting, but freeform magic is extremely hard to teach, and I doubt Dumbledore was able to get someone able to teach it well.

'True. His hiring record is far from spotless.'

From your memories, the only really good teachers at Hogwarts are McGonagall and Flitwick. Ironically, he didn't hire either of them.

'Okay, so he's got a shite hiring record. We've established that he's either evil or completely around the bend. With that reestablished, I'm going to read a textbook that's actually practical.'

Hmph.

Unfortunately for my studying, Ron and Hermione take that moment to start another argument.

"That cat is a menace, Hermione! You need to train it or keep it locked up!"

"He's a cat, Ron! He'll chase rodents because it's what he does! Maybe you should be the sensible one and get a cage for your rat instead of keeping him in your pocket all the time! Honestly, do you just let him pee through your robes!"

"Scabbers is fine! That cat's clearly got issues, though! It mauled Harry in the Alley, too!"

"Leave me out of this, you two." I say.

How do you put up with them?

'They're not normally this bad.'

Ah. Must be puberty, then.

I decide not to dignify that with a response.

As the train ride carries on and the sun fades beneath an impenetrable cloud of rain, the train suddenly screeches to a halt. Shortly after that, the lights dim before going out altogether.

"What the hell happened?" I ask.

"Nobody move." An unfamiliar voice says from behind me.

I look over my shoulder to see that Lupin has awoken.

"Glad to see you've rejoined the world of the living, Professor. Any clue what's going on?"

"Not for certain." He says as he looks outside the compartment's window. "But I don't like it."

Damn, did he take lessons on giving non-answers from Dumbledore? That tells us nothing.

'Not the time, Tamelyn.'

A chill crosses the room, sending a shiver down my spine. Then everything goes to hell.

A dark, cloaked figure that looks almost like a gliding, waterlogged corpse opens the door. My awareness of my surroundings slowly begins to fade.

No. No no no. No no no no no no NO!

Tamelyn begins exuding overwhelming amounts of fear and panic, overriding any sense I have for my own emotions. As my vision starts to black out, I hear the sound of a woman screaming my name. Then, whatever barriers Tamelyn uses to keep herself isolated from my mind collapse. I hear the sounds of countless explosions rocking the train as the darkness closes in on my vision and I black out.

Tamelyn drops in on my dreams periodically. She says she can keep our minds separated if she wants to, but she likes to "pop in" once in a while to "see what my subconscious is up to". As such, I'm used to seeing her when I'm asleep. I never would have imagined I could still talk with her when I'm unconscious, though. Then again, in a rare turn of fortune for me, I haven't been unconscious since she revealed herself to me.

Instead of the normally vivid surroundings of my dreams and/or nightmares, Tamelyn and I are in a dark… expanse of some sort. She's huddled on the ground, back to me, breathing unsteady.

"Tamelyn?" I ask. "Are you okay?"

Her head whips around to face me, and I'm taken aback by the change in appearance. Her face is pale, making her normally aristocratic features look gaunt. Her green eyes that normally project power are filled with fear, at least until she realises I'm here as well. Once she sees me, she scowls and her face flashes with anger.

"I swear to gods, Potter, if we died back there, then I will be immensely pissed at you."

'I thought you were unkillable?"

"I'm connected to you, right now. What happens if you die while I'm still attached to you? Will my soul anchor network keep us both alive? Will your lack of soul anchors mean you drag me into the afterlife against my will? Or would our souls be violently ripped apart as you're torn from me? I don't care to find out." She shakes her head before continuing. "Besides, while I can't be killed by conventional means, there are still a few things that can kill me. Any magic which targets my soul directly can still kill me. Magic like the Dementor's kiss…"

"Dementor? Kiss?" I ask.

"That… thing that entered the compartment." She explains. "They're the wardens of Azkaban prison. They make people near them relive their worst memories, and if they 'kiss' someone, they can suck out and consume their soul. I'd never encountered one before, so I was a bit… overwhelmed by the experience."

"They sound terrifying and awful. Why do they still exist?"

"Any methods of destroying them have been lost to the ages. I vowed to track down every bit of obscure magic I could until I discovered how to wipe them from the face of the earth. I wasn't about to leave such threats to my immortality lying around." The look of determination and anger on her face crumbles after she finishes speaking. She pulls her knees closer to her chest before she speaks up again, almost too quietly for me to hear. "I don't want to die…"

I sit down next to her, and we wait for a while in the dark silence of my unconscious mind. It's a bizarre experience, seeing the girl who killed someone through my body looking so… vulnerable. I wonder if Voldemort has this same level of humanity buried in herself, as well.

As I wake up, I slowly take in my surroundings. Either the afterlife is very bright and involves trains — which is a frankly ridiculous notion — or I'm not actually dead. I'm going to assume the latter.

"Is he going to be alright?" I hear Hermione's concerned voice ask.

"He'll be fine. Losing consciousness is a very rare side effect of dementor exposure, but it's not unheard of." Lupin replies.

I groan as I try and open my eyes. After the darkness of the stopped train and followed by the darkness of my mind, it is way too bright in here.

"Here," Lupin says as he hands me something, "eat this. It will help with the aftereffects."

I stare at what appears to be a plain chunk of chocolate in my hand.

Seeing my confusion, Lupin speaks up again. "It's normal chocolate. Mundane solutions work far better than magical ones in this instance."

I start munching on the chocolate, which sends warmth I didn't realise I was missing flooding through my body. I pull myself back onto a bench before asking the obvious question.

"So, I'm assuming the dementor didn't kiss me. What made it leave, then? It seemed pretty dead-set on me."

Hermione, Ron, and Lupin all seem surprised at my awareness of what happened, though none of them say anything about it. Ron speaks up first.

"It was Lupin — he summoned this glowing spectral wolf thing, and it chased off the dementor."

"It's called the patronus charm. It's a N.E.W.T. level charm used to defend against dark creatures." Lupin clarifies.

"Can you teach me how to cast it?" I ask. I'm in no desire of passing out again, and knowing how to cast it should help prevent Tamelyn from having another breakdown.

Lupin tries to hide the skepticism in his expression, though he doesn't do a good job of it. "It's a very advanced charm, and it's esoteric magic as well. You're in your third year, correct?" When I nod my head in affirmation, Lupin continues. "I plan on teaching the Riddikulus charm in my third year class. It's a form of esoteric magic similar to the patronus. If you can handle that charm, then I'll be willing to consider teaching you the patronus."

"Great." I say as I look around the cabin. "So, what blew up?"

Everyone gives me a confused look. "Nothing blew up, Harry." Hermione says.

"Really? I heard several explosions before I passed out."

"I think we would have noticed if something blew up, mate." Ron adds.

Great. Just like last year, I'm faced with another thing only I can hear. Except this time it's explosions instead of death threats. I pull out a book to try and distract myself, though another distraction presents itself before I can open said book.

So… Are we dead or not?

'We're not dead. Didn't you listen to what Lupin told us?'

I… wasn't there. I stayed in my mindspace for a while after you woke up.

'Why?'

I wasn't sure that I'd like what I woke up to.

'Were you afraid that we might have actually died?'

I don't want to die, Potter. That doesn't mean I'm afraid.

I don't mention the very real fear I felt rolling off of her, nor do I mention the amount of fear that was visible in her eyes just after we lost consciousness. It seems like the polite course of action after all.

"What the hell is that?" I say, gesturing at the scaly, winged… thing pulling the carriages to Hogwarts.

"What's what, Harry?" Hermione asks?

"The freaky thing pulling the carriage! I missed the express last year, remember? So I have no idea what the hell that is!"

"Erm, there's nothing there, Harry." Ron replies.

"There very clearly is!" I say, trying not to scream. "I know that it's probably hard to make out given that it's dark out, but it's still there!"

Ron and Hermione begin shooting concerned glances at each other. They were probably already concerned about me when I asked about the explosions.

'Tamelyn! What the hell is pulling the carriages!? I'm not crazy, right!?'

Well, I can't speak definitively about whether or not you're crazy, but that is a Thestral. It's a relative of abraxans and hippogriffs that is only visible to someone who has witnessed and understood death.

'How morbid. Why can I see it?'

We killed your aunt, remember?

'You killed my aunt. I was a witness.'

Sure, whatever. Anyways, if watching someone die from cardiac arrest didn't count, then I don't know what would. Thestrals are beautiful and elegant creatures, really. I was able to see them when I came back to Hogwarts for my third year.

'What happened in the summer before your third year?'

…I'd rather not talk about it.

'Right. Well then, that's one potential hallucination confirmed real. What about the explosions when the dementor showed up. Did you hear those, too?'

I said I'd rather not talk about it!

I immediately suspect a correlation between the two events, but Tamelyn's never one to give in under pressure, so I don't push the issue. Part of me really wants to find out when she was born and do some research into what happened when she was thirteen. I decide against that course of action, though. I know Tamelyn would recognise that as me prying at her past, and unless I manage to protect from her snooping through my mind and do the research while she "sleeps", she'll be displeased with me when she realises what I was doing.

With the answer to my current conundrum solved, I hop into one of the carriages and wait for Ron and Hermione. I notice the two of them shooting concerned glances at me and each other, and eventually get fed up enough with it that I confront them.

"Alright, you two. What's with the looks?"

Ron immediately tries and fails to look casual, while Hermione's concern becomes more prevalent.

"It's just… You've been acting strange lately, and I'm worried. We're worried."

"Hermione, between some unknown party getting the drop on me in the Chamber, and watching my aunt die in front of me, I'm not the same person I was before."

"It's more than that, though! You keep shifting your demeanor really suddenly! One minute you're acting like the Harry I've known for two years, and the next minute you're acting like a charming smooth-talker! It's almost like you're two different people!"

I manage not to choke on my spit as she says that. I am very grateful that I didn't, as that would have been a dead giveaway that she was right, or at least mostly right. If Hermione caught on, she'd go straight to Dumbledore, and then I'd be screwed. I can't imagine that bearded ass taking any course of action that wouldn't result in my death once he learned I had a piece of the Dark Lady's soul in my head.

Instead of panicking externally (as opposed to just internally), I manage to play it cool, and ask a question. "I'm afraid you'll have to be more specific. Can you name an example of when that happened?"

"Just now! You were freaking out about some horse thing that was supposedly pulling our carriage, but then you got all calm and still for a few seconds, and suddenly everything's fine and you just get in like nothing happened!"

Wow. Figures her example would be a time when Tamelyn didn't take control of my body. At least that should make it easier to come up with a decent lie.

"I decided panicking about something I had no solution to wasn't a good idea. If I don't have an explanation, then I can't see any good in getting myself worked up."

"That's… very mature of you, Harry." She says with a tinge of skepticism.

I roll my eyes at her. "I've been forced to do that a lot lately. Honestly, weird, winged lizard-horses are the least of my concerns right now."

"They're called thestrals." A new voice says.

I turn to the carriage entrance to see a small, blonde girl in blue trimmed robes climbing in. She continues speaking as she sits down. "They're only visible to those who've seen someone die."

That matches up perfectly to what Tamelyn told me. This girl clearly knows what she's talking about.

"See, Hermione?" I say. "There's a perfectly sensible explanation after all. Thank you for your help, Miss…?"

"Lovegood. Luna Lovegood. Though people often call me Looney." She replies.

Great. So maybe I won't be able to convince Hermione I'm not insane.

"It's good to see you again, Ronald. Is Ginevra doing better?" Luna continues.

"Er, no, She's still a bit bummed out by the whole ordeal last year."

"I thought as much. She's clearly got a wrackspurt problem. Have you tried convincing her to change toothpastes? Mint toothpaste attracts wrackspurts very easily. Just make sure she avoids changing to cinnamon, since that flavour attracts nargles. It wouldn't do her any good to lose one problem only to gain another."

"Um, yeah, I'll, uh, pass that on to her." Ron stammers out.

Okay, so maybe this girl doesn't totally know her stuff. She was right about the thestrals, though. I don't trust Tamelyn's morals, but I'd be a fool to doubt her knowledge.

As Luna begins to explain something called the "Rotfang Conspiracy" to Ron, Hermione shoots me a look that is equal parts "concern" and "I told you so". I merely shrug in reply.

'I don't suppose you've got anything to offer, do you?'

Besides the fact that I find this hilarious? Nope. You got yourself into this situation. Now I get to laugh my ass off watching you try and get out of it.

'Good to know you're on my side.' I think sarcastically.

Only when it concerns me, Potter. Only when it concerns me.

A/N (Tendra): It's one thing to write a sixty to seventy year old dark lord being terrified of death. It's another thing to write a sixteen year old girl being terrified of death. That sort of fear isn't the kind of thing to come out of nowhere. This story will go more into that later.

Luna Lovegood is a character that is usually written as either speaking entirely in metaphors and is smarter than everyone, or she's a seer who can figure out all sorts of things. I'm not a huge fan of either approach, frankly. Instead, I chose to write Luna as someone who is very perceptive of what happens in the world around her while at the same time being completely oblivious of why any of the things she observes actually happen.

E/N (Xgenje): Bonus points to those who can do basic math.