Rory Potter, the Girl Who Lived

The Dementor

          The next morning I'm shaken awake by an already-dressed Hermione. She hands my a cup of tea and says, "Come on, get dressed. We've got to load up those cars the ministry sent for us."
         I yawn and nod sleepily, then swing my feet out of my warm and toasty bed to get dressed. Afterwards, I leave the room with Ivy on my shoulder and my trunk and broomstick in tow. Halfway down the hall, Fred stops me and insists upon carrying my things. I let him, happy to have someone who would protect me from whatever kind of killer may be after me. And someone who would carry my things because I'm lazy and still half asleep.
          We hustle to load everything into the three ministry cars that were sent to us, even though there's three workers to go along with them, all of whom insist upon helping. Three hours later, I'm sitting with my head on Fred's shoulder as we zoom down the road to King's Cross.
          "No flying cars this year, right Rory?" Fred asks
          I roll my eyes and yawn.
          "It wasn't my idea, Freddie. Ron and Harry dragged me along," I say.
          Fred laughs. We spend the rest of the time talking quietly about everything that happened last year, and also everything that could happen this year; especially with Sirius Black on the loose. Fred assures me that he won't let Sirius take me, but somehow I doubt that if he wanted to kill me really bad, he probably would be able to.

~~~~~~~~~~

Twenty minutes later, we pull into the station. The ministry workers help us unload our trunks and pets onto separate trolleys, and I'm happy to say that this year, I run straight through the barrier.
          "Hey, you guys can find a seat, I'm going to sit with Fred and George this year. I'll find you after, okay?" I tell Harry, Ron, and Hermione.
          They all nod and bustle off in the opposite direction to find a seat. Meanwhile, Fred takes my hand.
          "Where d'you want to sit, love?" he asks.
          "I don't care. Somewhere in the middle, maybe?" I suggest.
         We eventually find and empty compartment, where I curl up on the seat, leaning on Fred and repeating a single sentence over and over in my head. 'You have to love him, you have to love him, you have to love him.'
          And soon, I've fallen asleep. I wake up three hours later when I notice a change in the air. Its turned cold, and the train has slowed down to a creep. I sit up and rub my eyes groggily.
          "What's going on? Why're we slowing down?" I ask.
          When the twins just shrug, I stand up and head for the door.
          "Where are you going?" Fred demands.
          "Stop being so nosy, Fred, I'm going to go and find Harry, Ron, and Hermione to see if they know why we're slowing down," I snap.
          As I start to wander off, the train slows gradually to a complete stop. Outside, the already stormy sky darkens even more, and the freezing wind lashes the pounding rain against the windows even harder. I shiver and pull my hands into the sleeves of my sweater as the temperature becomes all of a sudden so frigid that ice starts to form very quickly on the windows. The overhead lights on the train fizz and go out.
          And then I feel it. The slow, creeping dread that seeps into my very bones along with the chill from the frozen air. Dread that makes my eyes go wide and mouth go dry with fear and terror for what is to come. I channel a bit of energy into my necklace and illuminate the area with a pale pink glow, I snatch out my wand and hold it at the ready as I proceed down the corridor.
          Suddenly, there's a horrible screeching, grinding noise, and the air becomes even more cold. I whirl around to see the side door of the train sliding slowly open, as though it is being forced. Freezing rain blusters into the area, and the noise of the storm is suddenly very much louder. I slowly back away until I hit the door of a compartment. Not daring to take my eyes off the open door, I fumble for a latch and handle behind me with freezing, frantic hands.
          Something moves. Not physically, but I can feel a change. I stop dead, my heart pounding in my throat, my eyes stretched wide, my skin pale, and my body shaking. My breath comes in short, fast, and shallow gasps that I can barely hear over the deafeningly loud roar of the storm outside.
          I stare at the open door in terror, dreading the moment in which something will appear there. And finally something does. A hand reaches in and curls around the frame. But its no normal hand. It looks like a decayed corpse: glistening, slimy and greyish, covered ​in scabs, it's bony fingers make a sickening crunching noise as they move.
          And then the body follows it. The thing appears to be gliding above the ground on nothing but air, and I can't even see the body. It's covered from head to toe in a shredded black cloak, and the only skin I can see is that of the hand. Which is probably a good thing. The hooded figure slowly turns its head to face me, and my heart drops.
         Its like all the happiness is being drained out of me. I'm left with nothing but sadness and fear as I stand there, seemingly unable to move an inch. My mouth opens wide in a silent scream. Vaguely, I hear someone else scream, a woman. The sound makes me want to tear at my ears in anguish, but I can't move. The door behind me is flung open, and, with nothing left to support my weak, trembling body, my barely-concious self, I slump backwards. I'm out in a dead faint before I hit the floor.