Eleanor couldn't move. It was like the sense of hopelessness rooted her on the spot and even though she could feel the hairs on her arms stand on end because something clearly wasn't right, she couldn't bring herself to be bothered to move. What was happening to her?

Harry had turned away from her and was facing something, his wand pointed at it. But Eleanor saw nothing, nothing was there. Maybe a storm was coming Eleanor thought? But why was she scared. She could feel the fear running through her almost as paralysing as the hopelessness draining her.

Suddenly they were plunged into darkness. The street lamps at the end of the tunnel extinguished and the rumble of far away cars on the motorway silenced. All around them was a cold and impenetrable darkness.

"Harry?" Eleanor tried to take a step forward but the sudden pitch blackness had left her disorientated and she tripped over a risen concrete slab on the ground. "Harry, where are you?"

Eleanor was panicking. The fear was increasing now. She was scared out of her mind. Tears sprung to her eyes but she didn't care, she just wanted to stop feeling like this. Like she wouldn't be happy ever again.

"Eleanor?! I told you to run. You need to go, get out of here!" The urgency in Harry's voice made Eleanor even more scared.

"I-I can't see Harry. I'm scared." Eleanor was still on the ground. She was too scared to move.

From further up the tunnel, Eleanor heard Harry mutter something that sounded like a different language and suddenly the tunnel was drowned in light.

Harry looked around for Eleanor and saw her lying on the floor. He rushed up to her and helped her to her feet. She looked just like Harry; pale and clammy. But her mouth was agape and her eyes were wide in shock. They were staring at the end of Harry's wand where a ball of light was shining and illuminating the tunnel.

"I told you I wasn't lying." Harry said. "But you really need to go, it's not safe."

But as soon as those words left his lips, he saw it. Saw them. Harry's stomach turned over sickeningly.

A towering, hooded figure was gliding towards them smoothly, hovering over the ground, no feet or face visible beneath it's robes, sucking on the night in it's wake.

Harry trembled and he stumbled back, pushing Eleanor with him. He raised his wand again. "Eleanor, run!"

"Harry, what is it? There's nothing there."

"RUN!" Harry shouted. "Expecto Patronum!"

Eleanor watched as a silvery wisp of vapour shot from the tip of Harry's wand. She couldn't believe what she was seeing. It was making her light headed.

Quickly coming to her senses, she turned and went to make a run for it but then she felt it. Something drew a breath from in front of her, making it hard to breath. She smelled the putrid breath of whatever it was before she was lifted by her throat by an invisible force and pressed against the tunnel wall. Eleanor screamed but it was soon drowned out as well as any noise wanting to escape her throat.

She couldn't talk, she couldn't move, she could only feel. She could feel the cold breath being sucked from her and she felt as hopeless as ever. She just wanted it to end. All of it.

Eleanor had the sneaking suspicion she was dying. That she was being killed by whatever was holding her but she couldn't bring herself to care. She welcomed it, wanting the bad memories and thoughts to stop flooding her mind. If she died, maybe this feeling would stop and she would be at peace again?

Harry had heard the scream and turned to see another towering Dementor holding Eleanor by the throat with its scabby hand, inching it's hooded head towards her face. Harry watched in horror as the Dementor began to lower it's hood.

Tripping over his own feet, Harry stumbled further backwards, feeling the familiar fog begin to cloud up his brain. Concentrate, he told himself firmly. A pair of grey, slimy, scabbed hands slid from inside the Dementors robes in front of him, reaching for him. A rushing filled his ears.

He didn't have any more time to loose. "Expecto Patronum!"

His voice sounded dim and distant. Another wisp of silver smoke shot from the end of his wand even more feeble than the last attempt. It still hadn't worked.

Something happy.

He had to think of something happy. But he couldn't. There was no happiness left in him. The Dementor was wrapping it's icy fingers around Harry throat. He was going to die. Would it be painless? Harry didn't know. But then a thought struck him; he would never see Hermione or Ron again and suddenly their faces burst clearly into his mind as he fought for breath.

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

An enormous silver stag erupted from the end of Harry's wand; its misty antlers caught the Dementor in the place its heart should have been and it was thrown backwards, weightless as darkness, and as the stag charged, the Dementor swooped away, bat-like and defeated.

"THIS WAY!" Harry shouted at the stag. Wheeling around, he sprinted down the alley way, holding his lit wand aloft. "ELEANOR? ELEANOR?"

He had run barely a dozen steps when he reached them. The Dementor had lowered Eleanor to the ground and was pulling her hands apart and lowering it's face as though about to kiss her.

"QUICKLY!" And with a rushing, roaring sound, the stag Harry had conjured came galloping past him.

The Dementors eyeless face was barely an inch from Eleanor's face when the silver antlers caught it; the thing was thrown into the air and like its fellow, it soared away and was absorbed into the darkness.

The streetlamps suddenly flickered back to life and the humid air returned again.

Eleanor sucked in a sharp breath suddenly able to breathe again and shakily tried to sit up. Harry came to her aid and helped her. She felt weak and the both of them were drenched in sweat.

Harry crouched down to Eleanor's height to see if she was able to stand, but then he heard loud, running footsteps behind him. Instinctively raising his wand again, he spun on his heels to face the newcomer.

Eleanor felt groggy. She could hear footsteps but they sounded distant, far away. Slowly she raised her head and the two teenagers took in the sight of Mrs. Figg, Harry's batty old neighbour. Her grizzled grey hair was escaping from its hairnet, a clanking string shopping bag was swinging from her wrist and her feet were halfway out of her tartan carpet slippers. Harry made to stow his wand hurriedly out of sight but-

"Don't put it away, idiot boy!" She shrieked. "What if there are more of them around? Oh, I'm going to kill Mundungus Fletcher!"

Needless to say, both Harry and Eleanor were very confused.

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