SuperPotterLock- The Prisoner of Azkaban

The Dementor's Kiss

'Are you okay?' Sherlock whispered as they walked along the tunnel.

'I feel like – like I'm forgetting something,' said John. 'Something important...'

'Like what?'

'Well, if I knew that...'

Sherlock winced as his arm brushed up against the tunnel wall. 'You were very brave, you know. Standing up to Snape like that.'

John snorted. 'You don't have to make fun of me.'

'I mean it.'

John looked back at him and flushed slightly at his serious expression. 'It wasn't that brave,' he mumbled, embarrassed.

They climbed out from under the tree at last and Dean took a deep breath of the clear night air. John bumped into him, preoccupied.

'Whoa, watch it,' Dean said good-naturedly. 'Whatcha got there?'

John had pulled a flask out of his pocket and was frowning at it. He flicked open the lid and sniffed it. 'Eurgh,' he groaned, disgusted. 'No idea.'

'Here, let me see.' Dean took a whiff and his heart just about stopped as he recognised the smell. 'Wolsfsbane,' he murmured. He and John gave each other horrified looks and he turned towards Lupin, but it was already too late.

A cloud had shifted and they were bathed in moonlight. Lupin had gone rigid, then began to shake.

'He's safe though,' Hermione squeaked as Sirius put an arm out to stop them.

Dean turned slowly, eyes wide with fear, holding up the flask. He shook his head.

'Leave it to me,' Sirius said urgently. 'Just run! RUN!' He transformed back into a giant, black dog, snarling at Lupin.

Lupin's head was lengthening, as was his body. Hair sprouted out of his face and hands, which were curling into paws.

The werewolf reared and wrenched itself free of the manacles still binding it to Ron and Pettigrew.

Dean looked at the flask, then at Lupin, then sprang into action. 'Sirius, pin him down!' he yelled, sprinting directly towards the werewolf.

Sirius, in dog form, pounded along the ground and launched himself at the wolf, pulling it away from Ron with his teeth.

'Dean, no!'

But Dean did not hear Castiel's shout. Sirius pushed Lupin down to the ground and Dean jumped on top of it. With his knees pinning the front legs and Sirius holding the back, all he had to do was avoid the snapping jaws. However, he overbalanced as he was trying to position the flask properly and it was knocked aside, spilling the potion uselessly into the grass.

Sirius then lost control of the hind legs and they were both thrown high into the air.

Dean landed on his front, the wind knocked out of him. Unable to move, the wolf tore over to him, and he felt a white-hot, searing pain rip across his back. A high-pitched wail escaped from him of its own accord as the werewolf clawed long, deep scratches into Dean's back. Snarling, it opened its jaws, but Sirius smashed into it before it could take a bite.

Its attention successfully diverted, Sirius lured it away across the grounds.

Castiel, who had been watching from a distance, scrambled over to Dean, as did Hermione. He was already unconscious and bleeding heavily. He had been practicing healing cuts, but panic rose in his throat as the wounds refused to close.

'What can we do?' Hermione cried, pulling off her cloak and trying to staunch the flow with it.

'There must be something,' said Cas, struggling to keep his head clear. 'I- I went to Madam Pomfrey after Snape's lesson on werewolves that one time and she- she told me how to heal werewolf bites.'

'But this isn't the same thing,' Hermione said shrilly.

'I know, I know. But we have to try.'

'What did she say?'

'She said, uh, she said that you can seal bites with – with-' He suddenly plunged his hand into his pocket and pulled out a small bowl, a dropper and – 'Dittany! But not on its own. There's something else.'

'Hurry up!'

Cas shook his head. 'I don't know – I don't – She said Dittany isn't powerful enough on its own so you need to add... Silver. You need silver.'

'But we don't have any silver!' By now, Hermione's cloak was soaked red and Dean's lips had turned white.

'I have some,' Cas said in a hushed voice. He pulled his necklace out of his shirt and bit his lip. He allowed himself a single moment to look at it before kissing it and putting it in the bowl. He pointed his wand and whispered, 'Reducto.' The necklace disintegrated into a fine powder in the bottom of the bowl. Cas quickly poured the Dittany over it, mixed it together, then filled the dropper with the mixture. To his relief, the wounds closed slightly as he dropped the potion over them, however it was not enough to stem the flow of blood completely.

A few feet away, Pettigrew snatched up Lupin's dropped wand. He blew Ron away and Harry disarmed him.

John was overwhelmed with a sudden need to get to Pettigrew, but before he could, the man transformed into a rat and disappeared into the grass.

'No!' John screamed, diving after him, but it was useless. He was gone.

A burst of pain in John's chest took his breath away and he fell to his knees. 'He's gone,' he groaned.

'We'll just have to tell them what happened without Pettigrew,' Sherlock said.

'No, no, no, you don't understand.'

'What don't I understand?'

'He's gone, he – he's going to – he's going to find Voldemort.' He sat back in the grass and put his head in his hands. 'God, I'm so tired.'

'We'll just have to deal with that later,' Sherlock said, braver than he felt. 'Besides, it's only Wormtail. What can he do?'

'I can't breathe.'

'What do we do now?' Hermione called.

'We need to get help,' said Harry, pushing the hair out of his eyes.

But then came a yelping and whining in the distance.

'Sirius,' Harry muttered. He pelted off into the darkness.

'Harry, wait!' Hermione followed closely after him.

It was very quiet once they had gone. After a minute, it got very cold, and soon, Sherlock and John were both shivering horribly. 'The Dementors must be back,' he murmured. 'They're still after Sirius.'

John didn't respond, his eyes were out of focus and, though he was still in the present, he had retreated from his fear.

Sherlock quickly looked around, taking in their predicament. There was John, stiff with fear and clearly dissociating. Castiel, a short distance away, was still tending to Dean's injuries. Sherlock's own injury prevented him from helping, and he very much doubted that Castiel could carry Dean all the way up to the castle on his own. Snape was still unconscious, floating with his toes brushing the ground. There was nothing else for it.

Sherlock raised his wand to the sky and said, 'Periculum.' A red flare shot out of his wand and exploded in the air. He settled down to wait, wrapping his good arm around John to comfort him.