The whole world looked dark from where he was lying; there were only a few bright spots in the room, but his eyes hurt far too much to focus on them. His head was aching, and he tried to lift his hand to his forehead, but he barely had enough energy to move his fingers. He heard a quiet sound, possibly a voice, but his mind was too exhausted to comprehend what it had been.

"Harry?"

He wanted to answer, but all that came out was a small groan.

"Harry?"

He forced himself to fully open his eyes, and look in the direction of the voice.

A man with a familiar face was standing over him. He looked fairly young, but his hair was streaked with grey. Harry had been introduced to him a couple days ago in Dumbledore's office, but he honestly couldn't remember what the man's name had been. All he knew was that the man had just called someone else over, and the next thing Harry knew, he was being asked a series of questions by a woman he didn't know.

"Are you dizzy at all? Does your head ache?" The woman asked him.

"Yeah," he mumbled.

"Any other symptoms?"

"Mm-hmm... sore... everywhere."

"Yes, of course, you'll just need some rest. You hit your head quite hard when you fell down. Oh, no, don't get up!" She ordered, as he tried to lift himself. "You must stay in bed!"

Harry nodded. He didn't know who this woman was, but he had a feeling that he'd be better off not arguing.

She took a moment to adjust his pillow, then left.

Harry laid his head back and breathed in and out slowly, hoping that the world would stop spinning soon, then turned to the man that was still standing next to his bed.

He had a concerned look on his face. "You probably don't remember me, I'm Remus"

"Lupin, right. I remember now." Harry replied. "What are you doing here?"

"Professor Dumbledore thought that someone should be here whenever you woke-up. We've been waiting in shifts for the past two days."

Two days? Harry thought. I've been unconscious for two days? "That really wasn't necessary. I'm perfectly fine now."

Lupin fixed him with a questioning look. "Really? Perfectly fine?"

"Mm-hmm." Harry said, not quite meeting his eyes.

"I see." Lupin replied, though Harry was certain that he didn't believe him.

After a moment of silence (during which Harry's head stopped spinning slightly) Lupin spoke again. "I suppose that you're wondering about what happened in Diagon Alley."

Harry looked away suddenly. "Uh, yeah, I guess." Having only been awake for a few moments, Harry hadn't had a lot of time to think about Diagon Alley, but he definitely wanted to find out what had happened. He was quite grateful that Lupin had mentioned the incident, as Harry didn't know how he'd be able to ask why he'd heard voices in his head and fainted suddenly.

"It seems that Voldemort found out about your presence there, and sent magical creatures called Dementors after you." Lupin paused, giving Harry a chance to take in what he was hearing. "Dementors live in dark, cold places and feed off of happiness and hope. If someone were to get too close to a Dementor, all good thoughts would be drained from them. For the time being, all they'd have would be their worst memories, filled with depression or anger."

Harry wasn't quite sure what this had to do with what happened at Diagon Alley, but he was listening anyway.

"In the presence of a Dementor, someone would also loose touch with what was happening around them. Their vision would become hazy and all they'd be able to focus on would be those bad memories. The person's mind would just replay their worst memory over and over again."

"Oh." That certainly explained why Harry had fainted. "Wouldum, if a Dementor were near, would a person remember bad memories that they weren't able to remember before? Like... from when they were really young?"

Lupin had a look of realisation on his face. "Ah. Yes, I suppose that their mind would be able to recall those memories, even if it couldn't under ordinary circumstances." He paused awkwardly. "Of course, the worst memory would have to be especially bad for them to remember it after such a long time..." Lupin trailed off, and he looked at Harry as though silently asking what his worst memory was.

Harry ignored the unspoken question.

A few hours later, Harry was still lying in bed, in what he had been told was the hospital wing at Hogwarts. The woman - Harry though he had heard someone call her Madam Pomfrey - had returned a couple of times and given him various potions which, although foul-tasting, did seem to dull the ache in his head. No one was staying with him now; Lupin said he had somewhere to be and hoped that Harry would feel better soon. He had also asked if Harry had anymore questions about Dementors or the attack in Diagon Alley, but Harry couldn't think of anything.

After Lupin left, Harry was alone, thinking about what he had heard when the Dementors came close. There had been a high-pitched laugh... and a woman begging for Harry's life, then screaming in pain. The woman must have been Harry's mother. He didn't have a clue how he knew this, but he just did. It was more of a feeling than anything else. He knew that he had heard the sound of his mother pleading to save his life.

Harry wouldn't have thought that would be his worst memory. After all, he'd only been a baby at the time, and was a baby really able to comprehend life and death? If anything, he thought he would have at least have heard his Uncle Vernon's death. He hadn't liked his uncle, but he had grown-up with the man and it seemed natural to Harry that his uncle's death would be his worst memory; at least it was something he could remember. Yet, he couldn't deny that he had never felt as terrible as he had when he heard his mother's scream, as clearly as it must have been on the day she died.

It wasn't fair that all of this was happening. Why was Harry even here, anyway? He thought there had been a chance for a better life, one where he'd at least be able to live in the world that his parents had lived in. But he couldn't see how this life could be better if in less than a week, the only thing he had found out about his parents was what they sounded like when they died.

Harry sat up slowly and got off of the bed, wincing slightly as he was still sore. He pulled at the curtains, careful to be quiet, and glanced around the hospital wing to see if anyone was there. He couldn't see anyone, but Madam Pomfrey was probably nearby, so he'd have to leave quickly. Harry didn't know exactly where he was going, or what he was doing, but he knew that he couldn't just stay here and think about his parents' deaths.

He walked out of the hospital wing as quickly as he could without making any noise, and checked the corridors outside to make sure that no one was there. There were only a few torches lit, probably because the school wasn't in use during the summer. Harry held onto the walls as he walked, as he still felt quite off-balance. He hoped that he'd be able to find his way around; it shouldn't be too difficult if he could just find the Entrance Hall, or Dumbledore's office. However, the longer he walked around, the more difficult it seemed to be to find out where he was going. Harry wasn't even certain he would be able to get back to the hospital wing if he'd wanted to.

He was starting to regret his decision to leave, when he heard an extremely loud laugh. Harry looked around quickly, hoping he'd be able to see who the laugh had come from, but it was no use in the dark corridors. The laughing continued, even louder than before, and Harry was beginning to wonder if he was hallucinating. Had he really hit his head that hard?

All of a sudden, something wet dropped down on Harry and soaked his entire body. He blinked for a moment, and wiped what seemed to be water from his face, wondering who, or what, had soaked him. He tried to look around again and still couldn't see anything. Something else dropped down on him, though it didn't feel like water.

Paint? Harry thought, squinting to see what had fallen on him.

He didn't know what he could possibly do now as he was being attacked (in quite a childish manner) by something he couldn't even see. Whoever it was, they briefly stopped dropping things down on Harry, and just as he breathed a sigh of relief, he realised that the invisible person had just been busy putting out the only lit torch in the whole corridor. Now he couldn't see anything at all.

Harry fumbled around the corridor, hoping to find something helpful.

Why isn't there a light switch in this place? He thought, frustrated. The only thing he could find was the wand he'd got from Diagon Alley, in his pocket, but he didn't know what good that would be since he hadn't learned any magic. Even so, he took it out of his pocket and waved it around, hoping to be able to do something, anything. It didn't seemed to be working, though, so he put it away as he felt something else be poured on him from above, though he couldn't tell what he was.

Clearly, there was nothing he could do but try to leave. He ran as fast as he could, no longer caring which direction he was heading in. Just when the sounds of the invisible person seemed to be coming from further away, he slipped on something and hit the floor roughly. His wand fell from his pocket, and he searched the floor for it. He knew that it wasn't any good, but it was the only thing that he had.

The invisible person was close again, and laughing even more madly. "So, so much fun!" It cackled. "And during the Summerthis is an especially good treat!"

Harry had no clue what else he could do. He obviously couldn't fight someone that he couldn't see. He didn't seem to be in any particular danger, but it would certainly be humiliating if he just stayed here until someone found him.

Nothing good had happened in the past week, and Harry just wanted to leave this entire experience behind. He just wanted to get away from this stupid prankster, wanted to leave this castle and this world, wanted to forget the sound of his mother screaming as life was ripped from her, to

Light suddenly streamed from his wand, which was lying a few metres away from him.

Harry blinked and stared at the wand. He hadn't even touched it, or said anything, so how had it lit up?

There was no time to ponder what had happened, so Harry just grabbed the wand and ran as fast as he could.

He turned a corner, and nearly bumped into a suit of armour, then continued running. A few minutes later he could no longer hear the laughter, and stopped to catch his breath, clutching his chest. Running around in dark corridors probably wasn't the greatest thing to do after spending two days unconscious.

Harry looked around, trying to figure out how he could get back to the hospital wing, or at least if there was a way to find someone who would help him. He didn't know where he was now, but the corridor looked different from the others. Everything seemed even darker, if it was possible, and Harry didn't dare try and wake any of the people in the paintings, who were, apparently, asleep. He was far too tired to even comprehend how he would begin asking a painting for directions.

There was a door ajar nearby, and Harry walked into the room, hoping he'd be able to find somebody. He closed the door behind him. It seemed to be an especially large storage room, filled with an odd assortment of things that Harry couldn't identify. They looked similar to some of the things that had lined the windows of shops in Diagon Alley a few days before. Harry moved closer to inspect the contents of some of the jars. There were unusual looking liquids, and variety of weird things. Harry didn't even want to know what creature the pair of eyeballs had come from.

He didn't hear the footsteps that came from the corridor outside, or the sound of the door opening, but he did hear the cold voice that came from behind him.

"Ah, Potter. Yes, it figures that you would be sneaking around in the middle of the night, and snooping through the potions supplies. Shouldn't you be in the hospital wing, or is precious Potter too perfect for medical care?"

Harry turned around slowly, and came face to face with Snape, the greasy-haired man he had met in Dumbledore's office. If it was possible, he looked even colder than he had on that day.

"Well, what are you doing here? And why on Earth do you look like that?" Snape said, looking at him with disgust.

"I got lost, Sir, and something started throwing things at me." Harry replied, trying not to be intimidated.

"That must have been Peeves the Poltergeist. But how did you get lose? Did you think yourself too good to ask one of the paintings for directions?"

Harry didn't reply, but he felt his cheeks redden. He had avoided asking for directions, but not because he thought he was too good; he was just having enough trouble understanding that paintings could be alive at all.

"Follow me, Potter. I'm sure someone must be looking for you by now." Snape said, turning and quickly walking out of the storage room.

Harry followed him in silence, not wanting to talk to the man, and knowing that he wouldn't get a pleasant reply even if he did. In a few moments, he was starting to recognize the corridors and as they turned a corner, Harry saw the large entrance to the hospital wing.

"I trust that even you aren't stupid enough to get lost from here to the entrance." Snape snarled. He left without giving Harry a chance to reply.

Harry walked to the hospital wing, and entered apprehensively. Within a few seconds, Madam Pomfrey had realised that he was there, and had approached him, along with a stern-looking woman whom Harry had never met.

"You shouldn't have left!" Madam Pomfrey lectured. "What on Earth were you thinking? You should not be out of bed."

Harry was about to reply, when the other woman spoke.

"Actually, Albus thinks that he will be fine outside of the hospital wing, as long as he's resting." The woman informed her.

Madam Pomfrey didn't seem to agree with this, but didn't argue. Personally, Harry thought this was a wise choice as he knew that he would not argue with someone who looked so strict. "Well, I trust Albus' judgement. But where is he supposed to go, Minerva?"

"He can stay in the room that he slept in on his first night in the castle." She replied.

"Harry, can you find your way back to the room?" Madam Pomfrey asked, turning back to him.

He shook his head. "Sorry."

"Minerva, can you show him the way?" The woman nodded, and Madam Pomfrey continued speaking. "Harry, this is Professor McGonagall, the Transfiguration teacher here at Hogwarts."

Harry nodded. He had no clue what Transfiguration was, but held out his hand anyway.

McGonagall shook his hand, and her lips formed a very, very small smile, which Harry was certain didn't often appear on her face.

She led him quickly to his room, but looked behind her occasionally to ensure that he was keeping up. It seemed that she, unlike Snape, took into consideration the fact that he wasn't familiar with the castle.

When they arrived at his room, she opened the door and told him that he'd best get some rest.

"Also, you should know that Professor Dumbledore will be able to find you if you try to leave again. It's your choice, of course, whether or not you want to stay. Just make sure that you are making the right choice."

Harry didn't know what to say.

Harry didn't sleep peacefully like he had the last time he stayed in the room. He changed into one of the pairs of pyjamas he had brought from Dublin (his current clothes were still covered in a rainbow of paint colours, as well as what appeared to be honey), and simply lay in bed for what seemed like ages, before finally drifting off into a very restless sleep. He woke in the middle of the night, heart pounding, his mother's scream ringing in his ears. Looking out of the window, he noticed that the sun was rising. He briefly considered leaving the room, but he'd probably get lost anyway. Besides, McGonagall had made it clear that if he choose to leave, he'd eventually be found and at least have to explain why he wanted to go.

It wouldn't be an easy thing to explain, especially considering that Harry had nowhere to go. He didn't think the Wizarding World was the greatest place, but everywhere else was just bad as well. He certainly wouldn't be going back to anything wonderful if he were to return to his old life.

There was a sudden knock on the door, and Harry rushed to change out of his pyjamas, and into a t-shirt and trousers. He opened the door, and found that Remus Lupin was standing on the other side.

"I'm sorry, I didn't wake you, did I?" He asked. When Harry shook his head, Lupin continued. "I heard that you left the hospital wing without telling anyone."

"Yes." Harry replied, unsure of why Lupin was even here.

"Why did you want to leave?" Lupin asked.

Harry was silent for a moment, unsure of how to answer the question. He had no obligation to explain anything. "I don't know." He finally answered.

Lupin seemed to be considering how to respond to this. "Does it have anything to do with what you heard when the Dementors were near?" He asked, looking calmly at Harry.

Harry didn't answer. He had no clue how Lupin could have known that that was the reason.

"Harry, I'm just trying to help." Lupin sighed. "Somebody has to."

"I don't want any help!" Harry replied, struggling to stop himself from slamming the door shut. "I just don't want to be here anymore."

"I can understand that." Lupin said. Harry found it very unnerving that he still looked so calm. "It's your life and you have the right to make the choice. I'm just concerned about whether or not you choose the best option."

"Why do you even care?" Harry asked. "I mean, you seem like a nice enough person, but why do you care about what I do? For that matter, why does anybody care about if I'm even here?"

"I'm sorry, Harry, but I don't think that I can explain why you're wanted here. It's Professor Dumbledore's place to tell you that." He apologized. "But I care, because I think that you deserve a good life after everything that you've been through. It's what your parents would have wanted."

"Did... did you know them?" Harry asked, finally meeting Lupin's eyes.

Lupin nodded. "I did, actually. We were at school together. You father, in particular, was one of my closest friends. Both of their lives revolved around you; they would have wanted nothing more than for you to be happy."

Harry looked closely at Lupin. He did seem to genuinely care. "I, um.. Do you want to sit down?" Harry offered, gesturing at the small sofa that was near the window.

"All right." Lupin smiled. He looked very relieved.

They sat down at opposite ends of the sofa. Harry didn't know what to say, but he knew that he wanted to find out more about his parents' lives.

"I... I thought that if I came here, if I was in the world they grew-up in, I'd feel closer to them. But I don't, and now I feel even worse, because " Harry stopped abruptly. He still didn't want to talk about the Dementors.

"I know what you mean." Lupin paused and rubbed his temples, looking very tired. He hesitated slightly before continuing. "After they died, I moved a lot, not staying in one place for too long. But I constantly felt like I needed to be back here, or else I would forget about them. I knew that I didn't want to forget, but it wasn't easy thinking about them..."

Harry nodded. He tried to think of something to say quickly, because Lupin clearly looked uncomfortable continuing. "What were they like?" He asked, voicing the first question that came to mind.

"Wonderful people." Lupin smiled. He looked much younger when he was smiling. "Your mum was one of the kindest people I've ever met, and your father had a great sense of humour. He got into quite a bit of trouble at school, with pranks and such."

Harry smiled. His father sounded like he had been a very fun (though Harry couldn't honestly say that he liked pranks very much at the moment, having run into Peeves only a few hours before.) "I wish I had known them."

"I wish that, as well. But you shouldn't dwell on the past." Lupin replied.

Harry agreed. "I know." He didn't want to think about what could have been, he wanted to think about what would be. The problem was that he didn't know what his future held; he had no clue whether he wanted to stay in the Wizarding World, or leave it behind forever. "Did my parents like being at Hogwarts," Harry felt the need to ask, "and learning magic?"

"Yes, very much." Lupin answered. "Your father had grown-up with a Wizard and Witch for parents, so he had been raised in a magical environment. You mother, on the other hand, obviously wasn't born into a magical family, so it took her a bit of time to understand everything. But, she eventually adjusted, and they both enjoyed being at Hogwarts. It was like a second home."

Harry needed to know more. "Were they good at magic?"

Lupin grinned. "Unbelievably so. They were Head Boy and Girl, and your mum was a prefect as well. They got some of the best marks I've ever seen, and your dad in particular managed some amazing bits of magic for someone that age." Lupin didn't elaborate on what he meant by that, to Harry's disappointment. "They were very happy in the Wizarding World."

Harry listened, somehow feeling closer to his parents than he ever had before.

"I should probably go now. Professor Dumbledore mentioned that he wanted to talk to me about something." Lupin said, getting up.

"Okay." Harry said, and he went to open the door.

Lupin smiled. "Good-bye."

Just as he was about to close the door, Harry said something. "Um... Mr. Lupin?" He had no clue how to address the man.

"You can call me Remus."

"Ah, okay." Harry replied. "Um, thanks for... telling me about my parents and everything."

"Anytime." Lupin said kindly.

Harry finally closed the door, and went back to the sofa. He looked out the window, at the grounds that were now visible. His parents has spent part of their lives in this school, learning magic and having fun. They had grown-up in this castle. When they had left, they got married, had Harry and took care of him with the hopes that he'd eventually live in the world they had loved so much.

Somehow Harry knew that he would never again want to leave.