MoP

Harry Potter and the Myriad of Possibilities: Betrayal

The Dementor

Disclaimer: This is solely a not-for-profit fan activity and does not intend to infringe on copyrights held by Time Warner, DC Comics, Bloomsbury et al, or JK Rowling. Any characters that are original to this work remain the property of the author.

A/N: The Myriad of Possibilities Series primarily uses the background from the Harry Potter books but some elements and scenes have been borrowed from other sources – including the movies, Pottermore and my own headcanon – that will be covered where they fit into the narrative. The timeline of the DC Comics elements borrows heavily from Young Justice (2011) and may adapt elements and characters from the comics and several additional other media instalments – including but not limited to Smallville (2001) and Superman and Lois (2021) – and relocates events of Young Justice to the Eighties and early Nineties rather than the New Tens and Twenties as screened and includes several 'legacy' and original characters as a result.

A/N: Thanks to Jon and 6f5e4d for their help on this chapter.

Central London.
January 2, 10:25 GMT

The air buzzed with the frantic energy of departing families and the hushed whispers of a fear that hung heavy in the air, as the Langs passed through the barrier onto Platform Nine and Three Quarters. Reporters, like ravenous vultures, circled, their cameras flashing incessantly. Rita Skeeter, a particularly persistent one, her face a mask of predatory charm, almost tripped over Hank's trolley as she rushed toward him.

"Get out of the way!" Lana ordered sharply.

Rita, taken by surprise, staggered to her feet and backed off, allowing them to reach the train unmolested.

Hank felt a surge of relief as they climbed on board and quickly located Remus in the last compartment before the baggage car. The older man rose to his feet and moved to help Hank stow his luggage in the overall rack.

Hermione arrived just as they finished, her bushy brown hair slightly windblown. She carried several books held together with an enchanted strap under one arm, while towing her own trunk and a wicker travel basket with the other hand.

"Hank!" Hermione greeted him with a warm smile and accepted a hug. "Linda, Miss Lang. Is every all right?"

"Other than the obvious," Hank replied as they broke apart and settled down on one of the benches.

"Sirius Black."

"Sirius Black," Hank confirmed.

"How did he escape?" Hermione asked. "I thought that was supposed to be impossible?!"

Before Hank could reply, Ron Weasley burst into the compartment, he heaved a sigh of relief, collapsing onto the seat opposite them. "Nearly missed it!"

The whistle blew, a long, mournful sound that signalled departure. A wave of melancholy washed over Hank as they said goodbye to Lana and Linda. Lana brushed a stray lock of hair from Hank's forehead as Linda gave him a quick, sisterly hug. Then, with a final wave, the two women disappeared back into the teeming platform as the train pulled away from the station.

"Did you hear about Sirius Black, Hank?" Ron asked as he rose again to put up his trunk.

"Yep," Hank confirmed. "It's a bit of a mystery…"

"It's more than a 'bit of a mystery'," Ron retorted. "It's supposed to be impossible."

Hermione nodded. "I read that the guards drain a wizard of their energy and powers if you're around them for long enough."

"Correct, Miss Granger," Remus confirmed from his seat in the corner. "However, there are… one or two possibilities."

"Dark magic?" Hermione suggested. "I wasn't able to find anything, but the London Library isn't as complete as Hogwarts."

"Perhaps," Remus conceded, but then glanced at the open door. "But somethings are best discussed in private."

Hermione opened her mouth to argue, but a quelling glance from Hank silenced her and she got to her feet and reached for the wicker basket. "I'm going to let Crookshanks out to stretch his legs."

None of the others said anything at first, but Ron spoke up as soon as the bandy-legged ginger cat's head came into view. "No way… not with Scabbers around!" he insisted.

"Oh, come on, Ron," Hermione retorted, exasperated. "Crookshanks is very well behaved. It will be fine."

Hank wasn't so sure about that, but decided to keep his own counsel for the moment as he didn't want to 'take sides'.

Crookshanks leapt lightly from the basket, stretched, yawned, and sprang onto Ron's knees; the lump in Ron's pocket trembled and he shoved Crookshanks angrily away. "Get out of here!"

"Ron, don't!" said Hermione angrily.

Crookshanks landed on Hank's lap, hissing about 'not rat', 'danger' and a couple of words that Hank couldn't make out before Remus reached over and grabbed the beast, pulling him back to his and Hermione's side of the carriage. "I know it seems natural," he told the cat. "But you can't go attacking humans or their pets, it's not polite."

The ginger cat didn't seem entirely convinced but consented to stay on the other side of the compartment nonetheless, and they quickly settled into a comfortable discussion about their holidays, though Remus easily dodged any discussion of his plans for the new year.

"We must be nearly there," said Ron, leaning past Hank to peer out of the rain-soaked window.

The words had hardly left him when the train started to slow down.

"Great," said Ron, getting up and walking to the window to try and see outside. "I'm starving. I want to get to the feast..."

"We can't be there yet," Hermione insisted after consulting her watch

"So, why're we stopping then?" asked Ron.

The train was getting slower and slower. As the noise of the pistons fell away, the wind and rain sounded louder than ever against the windows.

Hank – agreeing with his friends that something was up – got up to investigate the corridor. All along the carriage, heads were sticking curiously out of their compartments, but everyone looked as clueless as he was.

At that moment, the train came to a stop with a jolt, and all along the trains there were distant thuds and bangs and screams of pain as luggage had fallen out of the racks. Then, without warning, all the lamps went out and they were plunged into total darkness.

"What's going on?" said Ron's voice from behind Hank.

"Ouch!" gasped Hermione. "Ron, that was my foot!"

Hank felt his way back to his seat.

"D'you think we've broken down?"

"Dunno..."

There was a squeaking sound, and Hank saw the dim black outline of Ron, wiping a patch clean on the window and peering out. "There's something moving out there," Ron said. "I think people are coming aboard..."

The compartment door suddenly opened, and someone fell painfully over Hank's legs.

"Sorry… d'you know what's going on?" asked a familiar voice. "Ouch. Sorry…"

"Hello, Neville," said Hank, feeling around in the dark and pulling Neville up by his cloak.

"Hank? Is that you?" asked Neville cautiously. "What's happening?"

"No idea. Sit down."

"Quiet!" hissed Remus from his corner.

None of them spoke.

There was a soft, crackling noise, and a shivering light filled the compartment. Remus appeared to be holding a handful of flames. They illuminated his tired, grey face, but his eyes looked alert and wary. "Stay where you are," he said in the same hoarse voice, and he got slowly to his feet with his handful of fire held out in front of him. But the door slid slowly open before Lupin could reach it.

Standing in the doorway, illuminated by the shivering flames in Lupin's hand, was a cloaked figure that towered to the ceiling. Its face was completely hidden beneath its hood. Hank's eyes darted downward, and what he saw made his stomach contract. There was a hand protruding from the cloak, and it was glistening, greyish, slimy-looking, and scabbed, like something dead that had decayed in water...

But it was visible only for a split second. As though the creature beneath the cloak sensed Hank's gaze, the hand was suddenly withdrawn into the folds of its black cloak. And then the thing beneath the hood, whatever it was, drew a long, slow, rattling breath, as though it were trying to suck something more than air from its surroundings.

An intense cold swept over them all. Hank felt his own breath catch in his chest. The cold went deeper than his skin. It was inside his chest, inside his very heart… No, my mind, Hank realised with jolt of panic, and desperately tried to pull his psychic defences, but the attack was too raw, too primal… it was like trying to stop the tide…

Hank's eyes rolled up into his head. He couldn't see. He was drowning in cold. There was a rushing in his ears as though of water. He was being dragged downward, the roaring growing louder…

And then, from far away, he heard screaming, terrible, terrified, pleading screams. He wanted to help the woman, whoever she was, he tried to move his arms, but couldn't… a thick white fog was swirling around him, inside him…

Scotland.
19:32 GMT.

"Hank… Hank… are you okay?!" asked someone as they slapped his face.

"W-what?" Hank murmured as he struggled to reorientate himself. After a moment, his senses cleared and he found himself lying on the shaking floor of the Hogwarts Express, looking up at the lanterns affixed to one of the luggage racks.

Ron and Hermione were kneeling next to him, and above them he could see Neville and Remus watching. Hank felt very sick. When he put up his hand to push his glasses back on, he felt cold sweat on his face.

"Are you okay?" Ron asked nervously as he and Hermione heaved him back on his seat.

"Yeah," said Hank, looking quickly toward the door.

The hooded creature had vanished.

"I've never been hit that hard! What was that thing…?" Hank asked. He also wondered who the female voice that he'd heard under the creature's influence was, but didn't mention it as a loud snap made them all jump and turn towards Remus Lupin, who was breaking an enormous slab of chocolate into pieces.

"Here," he said to Hank, handing him a particularly large piece. "Eat it. It'll help."

"What was that thing?" he asked Lupin as he accepted the treat.

"A Dementor," replied Lupin grimly as he continued to give chocolate to everyone else in the compartment. "One of the Dementors of Azkaban."

Everyone stared at him. Remus crumpled up the empty chocolate wrapper and put it in his pocket. "Eat," he repeated. "It'll help. I need to speak to the driver, excuse me…"

He strolled past Hank and disappeared into the corridor. "Are you sure you're okay, Hank?" said Hermione, watching him anxiously.

"More worried than hurt," Hank replied as he wiped more sweat off his face. "I thought I had better defences than that…" He shook himself and drew himself back upright. "What did you guys see?"

"Well, that thing… the dementor… looked around – I mean, I think it did, I couldn't see its face) – and you…" Hermione began but trailed off.

"I thought you were having a fit or something," continued Ron, who still looked scared. "You went sort of rigid and fell out of your seat and started twitching…"

Yeah, that makes sense… Hank thought. "What happened then?"

"Mr Lupin stepped over you, then walked toward the dementor, and pulled out his wand," said Hermione, "and he said, 'None of us is hiding Sirius Black under our cloaks. Go.' But the dementor didn't move, so Lupin muttered something, and a silvery thing shot out of his wand at it, and it turned around and sort of glided away…"

Okay, so there are defences that can be used, Hank thought, brightening a little at that.

"It was horrible," said Neville, in a higher voice than usual. "Did you feel how cold it got when it came in?"

"I felt weird," said Ron, shifting his shoulders uncomfortably. "Like I'd never be cheerful again..."

Remus came back in a moment later. He paused as he entered, looked around, and said, with a small smile, "I haven't poisoned that chocolate, you know…"

Hank took a bite and was a little surprised to feel warmth spread suddenly to the tips of his fingers and toes. Interesting, I wonder how that's doing it…?

"We'll be at Hogwarts in ten minutes," said. "Are you all right, Hank?"

"A little bruised and confused," Hank admitted as he finished off the treat. "But I should be fine."

"Good," Remus replied and polled the rest of the compartment, getting similar responses from the others before returning to his seat.

The four Gryffindors followed the rest of the school along the tiny freezing platform and out onto a rough mud track, where at least a hundred carriages awaited the returning students, pulled by the strangest looking horses… if that's what they actually were that Hank had ever seen:

There was something vaguely reptilian about the creatures… they were fleshless, almost skeletal under their black coats; their heads were dragonish, their pupil-less eyes white and staring; vast, black leathery wings that looked as though they ought to belong to giant bats, sprouted from each wither. Standing still and quiet in the gloom, the creatures looked eerie and sinister.

"Thestrals," commented Neville quietly when he spotted Hank eyeing the creatures drawing the carriages. "They're invisible to anyone who hasn't seen and come to terms with death."

Hank nodded, then mounted Ron and Hermione's carriage and turned to help Neville inside as well as before the carriage set off towards the castle. As the carriage trundled toward a pair of magnificent wrought iron gates, flanked with stone columns topped with winged boars, Hank saw two more towering, hooded Dementors, standing guard on either side. A wave of cold sickness threatened to engulf him again; he leaned back into the lumpy seat and closed his eyes until they had passed the gates. The carriage picked up speed on the long, sloping drive up to the castle; Hermione was leaning out of the tiny window, watching the many turrets and towers draw nearer. At last, the carriage swayed to a halt, and the four Gryffindors gratefully exited the stuffy, smelly carriage.

As Hank reached the ground, a drawling, delighted voice sounded in his ear. "You fainted, Potter? Is Longbottom telling the truth? You actually fainted?"

Malfoy elbowed past Hermione to block Hank's way up the stone steps to the castle, his face gleeful and his pale eyes glinting maliciously.

"Shove off, Malfoy," said Ron, whose jaw was clenched.

"Did you faint as well, Weasley?" said Malfoy loudly. "Did the scary old Dementor frighten you too, Weasley?"

"Is there a problem?" said a familiar voice in a mild, enquiring tone.

Malfoy gave Remus an insolent stare, which took in his well-used robes and the dilapidated suitcase. With a tiny hint of sarcasm in his voice, he said, "Oh, no… er, sir," then he smirked at Crabbe and Goyle and led them up the steps into the castle.

Hermione prodded Ron in the back to make him hurry, and the four of them joined the crowd swarming up the steps, through the giant oak front doors, into the cavernous entrance hall, which was lit with flaming torches, and housed a magnificent marble staircase that led to the upper floors.

The door into the Great Hall stood open at the right; Hank followed the crowd toward it but had barely glimpsed the enchanted ceiling - which was dark with the occasional cloud tonight - when a voice called, "Lang! Hank Lang!"

The four Gryffindors turned around, surprised.

Hank fought his way over to her with a feeling of foreboding: Professor McGonagall had a way of making him feel he must have done something wrong even if he hadn't. "There's no need to look so worried, Lang," the elderly woman assured him. "I just want a word with you. Move along there, Miss Granger, Longbottom, Weasley."

The other three Gryffindors stared as Professor McGonagall ushered Hank away from the chattering crowd, across the entrance hall, and into the anteroom that the first years had gathered in before the Sorting a few months earlier.

Professor McGonagall conjured a small table and a pair of chairs and motioned Hank into one of them as she took the second. "Mr Lupin sent an owl ahead to say that you were taken ill on the train, Lang."

Before he could reply, there was a soft knock on the door and Madam Pomfrey, the school nurse, came bustling in.

Hank sighed, "Thanks for your concern, Professor, but I feel fine now."

Madam Pomfrey made a sceptical noise and bent down to stare closely at him. "Well, what happened? People don't just… faint for no reason."
Hank nodded slightly, silently conceding the point, but still wanting to get it over with a soon as possible.

"It was a Dementor, Poppy," said Professor McGonagall.

They exchanged a dark look, and Madam Pomfrey clucked disapprovingly. "Setting dementors around a school," she muttered, pushing back Hank's hair and feeling his forehead. "He won't be the last one who collapses. Yes, he's all clammy. Terrible things, they are, and the effect they have on people who are already delicate…"

"I am not normally considered 'delicate'…" said Hank blandly.

"Of course you're not," said Madam Pomfrey absentmindedly, now taking his pulse.

"What does he need?" said Professor McGonagall crisply. "Bed rest? Should he perhaps spend tonight in the hospital wing?"

"I'll be going to bed straight after the feast anyway," Hank pointed out. "I don't need to go to the Hospital Wing."

"Well, you should have some chocolate, at the very least," said Madam Pomfrey, as she tried to peer into his eyes.

"I've already had some," said Hank. "Unc-Mr Lupin gave me some. He gave it to all of us."

"Did he, now?" said Madam Pomfrey approvingly. "Well, he always the smart one of the little group that he was in."

"Are you sure you feel all right, Lang?" Professor McGonagall said sharply.

"Nothing that some good food and sleep won't cure," Hank assured, keeping his questions about the Dementors to himself in order to escape their attentions.

"Very well, let's get back to the feast," said McGonagall, and rose to her feet. Once Hank was also back on his, she banished the conjured furniture and led the way out of the room.

During his examination, the Great Hall had filled up and the entire student cohort was now present, waiting eagerly for the headmaster to open the feast.
His friends looked like they wanted an explanation, but Hank had just made it to his open spot at one of the Gryffindor benches when the headmaster stood up to speak, so he waved them off.

"Welcome back, students!" said Dumbledore, the candlelight shimmering on his beard. "I hope you all had a good holiday… I have a few things to say to you all, and as one of them is very serious, I think it best to get it out of the way before you become befuddled by our excellent feast… As you will all be aware after their search of the Hogwarts Express, our school is presently playing host to some of the Dementors of Azkaban, who are here on Ministry of Magic business."

Hunting for Sirius Black, I'll bet… Hank thought to himself, and - eyeing the headmaster – decided that the old man wasn't any happier about the creatures' presence than he was. That could complicate things.

"They are stationed at every entrance to the grounds," Dumbledore continued, "and while they are with us, I must make it plain that nobody is to leave school without permission. Dementors are not to be fooled by tricks or disguises… or even Invisibility Cloaks."

Well, that answers that question, Hank thought, somewhat reassured at the source for his mysterious gift.

"It is not in the nature of a dementor to understand pleading or excuses. I therefore warn each and every one of you to give them no reason to harm you. I look to the prefects, and our Head Boy and Girl, to make sure that no student runs afoul of the dementors…"

Hank followed Ron's glaze down the bench to Percy and smiled a little when he saw that the older boy had puffed out his chest in pride and was staring around impressively.

"On another note," he continued, "Professor Singh had a family emergency over the holidays and will not be returning…"

There was some surprised muttering at that, but it subsided quickly.

"That's got to be a new record," Ron commented in a low tone.

Hermione's expression turned pensive, but she didn't immediately reply.

"So, I would like to introduce… Professor Remus Lupin who has kindly consented to see out of the rest of the year in his place."

There was some scattered, rather unenthusiastic applause. Only those who had been in the compartment on the train with Remus clapped hard, Hank among them.

"Look at Snape!" Ron hissed in Hank's ear.

Hank glanced up at the staff table and was a little startled at the expression twisting his thin, sallow face. It was beyond anger: It was loathing. Hank knew that expression only too well as the Potions Master invariably directed it at him.

"Well, I think that's everything of importance," said Dumbledore. "Let the feast begin!"

The golden plates and goblets before them filled suddenly with food and drink. Hank, suddenly ravenous, helped himself to everything he could reach and began to eat.

January 3, 07:16 GMT.

When Hank, Ron, and Hermione entered the Great Hall for breakfast the next day, the first thing they saw was Draco Malfoy, who seemed to be entertaining a large group of Slytherins with a very funny story. As they passed, Malfoy did a ridiculous impression of a swooning fit and there was a roar of laughter.

"Ignore him," said Hermione, who was right behind Hank. "Just ignore him, it's not worth it..."

"Hey, Potter!" shrieked Pansy Parkinson, a Slytherin first year girl with a face like a pug. "Potter! The Dementors are coming, Potter! Woooooooo!"

Hank dropped into a seat at the Gryffindor table, next to George Weasley. "What's up with you, Hank?"

"Malfoy," said Ron, sitting down on George's other side and glaring over at the Slytherin table.

George looked up in time to see Malfoy pretending to faint with terror again. "That little git," he said calmly. "He wasn't so cocky last night when the dementors were down at our end of the train. Came running into our compartment, didn't he, Fred?"

"Nearly wet himself," said Fred, with a contemptuous glance at Malfoy.

"I wasn't too happy myself," said George. "They're horrible things, those Dementors…"

"Sort of freeze your insides, don't they?" said Fred.

"You didn't pass out, though, did you?" said Hank in a low voice.

"Forget it, Hank," said George bracingly. "Dad had to go out to Azkaban one time, remember, Fred? And he said it was the worst place he'd ever been… he came back all weak and shaking… They suck the happiness out of a place, dementors. Most of the prisoners go mad in there."

Hank nodded, and feeling slightly more cheerful, he helped himself to sausages and fried tomatoes.

10:45 GMT.

"Good morning students," said Remus, as the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw first years filed into the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. "We will be having a practical lesson today, so please put your bags under your desks out of the way and take out your wands."

There was a hum of anticipation as the students hurried to obey, Professor Singh had been a decent teacher but avoided practical lessons as often as possible.
"Today, I will be teaching you the Full Body-Bind, a powerful defensive spell, which induces temporary paralysis," Remus explained, as he drew his own wand, a long slim one with a small bulbous handle that Hank thought was probably made of some sort of conifer wood. He sketched a wand movement – which resembled a sideways S lying on its back – and then told them the incantation.

He allowed the students to practise the movements and the words separately until he was confident that they had it down, then he called them back to order. "To truly master this spell, you will need to practise… on these!"

He whisked a cover over a large wire cage to expose a large group of tiny buzzing winged creatures, then he flung open its door with a flourish.

The Pixies shot out in every direction, a miniature blue tornado of wings and shrill, high-pitched squawks. Before anyone could react, two particularly aggressive Pixies seized Neville, lifting him unceremoniously by the robes and hung him precariously from the ornate chandelier.

A collective intake of breath filled the room as chaos descended, but Hank reacted quickly, casting a strong Body Bind towards a group of the creatures who were making a bid to escape, freezing them in mid-air before they could reach the windows.

"Quick, everyone… get into a circle. Quick!" Hank barked; his voice surprisingly clear above the din. Ron and Hermione, ever loyal and understanding the gravity of the situation were the first to follow his lead, but the others – initially frozen in surprise – responded to Hank's decisive action and had soon formed a loose circle, their wands held high, their faces a mixture of fear and determination, eyeing the swarm of attackers.

Eventually, the initial chaos began to subside. The last of the pixies, exhausted and subdued, lay scattered on the floor.

Remus, observing the scene with a bemused smile, clapped slowly. "Excellent work, everyone," he said, his voice tinged with genuine admiration. "A rather… spirited demonstration of the Full Body-Bind. Hank, well done."

"It wasn't my first rodeo," Hank commented lightly, and then glanced at his friends. Ron, grinning widely, gave him a thumbs-up. Hermione, offering a rare, genuine smile, nodded approvingly. "Can you get Neville down, Hermione? I want to talk to Remus about something."

"Of course," Hermione agreed.

"What can I help you with, Hank?" Remus asked him as he got closer.

"The Dementors," Hank began. "They affect me far more than most, presumably because of my history."

"I agree," Remus confirmed. "Dementors are among the foulest creatures that walk this earth. They infest the darkest, filthiest places, they glory in decay and despair, they drain peace, hope, and happiness out of the air around them. Even Muggles feel their presence, though they can't see them. Get too near a Dementor and every good feeling, every happy memory will be sucked out of you. If it can, the Dementor will feed on you long enough to reduce you to something like itself… soulless and evil. You'll be left with nothing but the worst experiences of your life. You have nothing to feel ashamed of."

"I'm not ashamed," Hank insisted. "I'm worried. If they get onto the grounds…"

"The headmaster is quite insistent that they should stay outside, but I don't blame you for being concerned anyway," Remus admitted, and made a sudden motion with his arm as though to grip Hank's shoulder but thought better of it. "There are certain defences that can be used," Remus continued after a moment of silence. "But the spell… the Patronus Charm is immensely complex, well beyond NEWT level."

Hank made an enquiring noise. "I'm not a typical first year," he reminded the older man. "But you might be right about that specific spell, I'm pretty good at casting big spells wandlessly, but I'm still a rookie at casting spells with a wand."

"That could make a difference," Remus agreed.

"There might be other options though," Hank countered. "What does the Patronus Charm do?"

"Well, when it works correctly, it conjures up a Patronus, which is a kind of 'anti-Dementor'… a guardian that acts as a shield between you and the creature. The Patronus is a kind of positive force, a projection of the very things that the dementor feeds upon — hope, happiness, the desire to survive — but it cannot feel despair, as real humans can, so the dementors can't hurt it."

"What does a Patronus look like?"

"Each one is unique to the wizard who conjures it."

"And how do you conjure it?"

"With an incantation, which will work only if you are concentrating, with all your might, on a single, very happy memory."

"That gives me an idea or two," Hank mused. "I think I need to do some research."

"If there's anything I can do to help…"

"I'll get back to you," Hank promised.