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Chapter Text

A Dance of Dementors

Chapter 1: Third Year, Awakening.

Harry Potter shivered.  His skin felt clammy, cold and lifeless at the touch.  His head felt like it was burning, on fire.  He wanted to vomit.  To pass out again.  Both at the same time if he was feeling honest.  He could still hear his mother screaming.  He could still hear Voldemort laughing.  That particular combination of sounds tore him apart from his stomach to his brain.

He barely kept the mouthful of chocolate within him.

“What-what was that?”  His voice sounded like he had swallowed sand and glass, jagged and full of pain.

Remus Lupin looked down at the pale boy, his eyes filled with a shared pain.  “That was a Dementor, one of the guards of Azkaban.”

Hermione Granger had her arms wrapped around Ginny Weasley, her eyes flicked between the sobbing girl and Harry.  “That was a Dementor?  They don’t seem…human.”

Remus snorted.  “That’s because they aren’t.  They are Dark Creatures.  They hunger for emotions, for feelings.  They feed off them, especially positive ones.  They have an Aura that suppresses positive emotions while draining people of them.  It’s how they thrive.  As you might imagine, they make very effective guards.”

Ron Weasley stared out the frost covered window.  “Dad told me about them before, he had to go to Azkaban once.  I never knew how horrible they were.  Always thought he was exaggerating.”

“I don’t believe anyone can exaggerate the effects a Dementor can have.”  Remus sighed wearily.  “Their presence at Hogwarts will make things quite problematic.”  He smiled at Harry.  “Don’t worry Harry.  Your response, while a bit more extreme, is normal.  I’ll do my best to prepare you and your classmates for them.”

The train began to move again, the gentle sway of the compartment reappeared.  The whistle of the Hogwarts Express sounded forced at first, but the subsequent blast seemed to chase away the chill.  But only a little.

-0-

No matter where he went, Harry could still feel them.

The Dementors were not allowed on school’s grounds, something everyone was thankful for.  Most of the time, the Dementors were very far away, barely visible unless you went to the edges of the grounds.  For the vast majority of the students, they did not feel the oppressive aura of the Dementors.  They could go about their lives, focusing on their classes and social lives, completely ignorant of them.

He would have given much to feel like them.

The feeling was not as strong as the time the Dementor had entered their compartment on the Express.  He did not feel like he was drowning, his skin not frozen, his spine and mind not on fire.  He could be happy, content, excited even.  

Instead it was a lingering feeling.  One that could not be completely shaken or ignored.  It was always there, always prevalent.  Like when you tried to dry off after a shower and there was that tiny bit of wetness that clung to you.  Or when you came in from a snowstorm and you still had that tiniest bit of chill that clung stubbornly to your bones.

His dreams were no solace for him.  

Nightmares plagued him night after night.  The feeling of Dread that swallowed him.  The deep and primal fear that stalked him.  He could hear Lily Potter’s frantic bargaining, her screams of sheer soul rending pain.  Voldemort’s high voice, dripping with contempt and superiority.  His laughter was colder than the Dementor’s Aura.  

He either woke screaming or crying.  More often than not, he did both.

His friends had tried to help him.  Ron was a solid presence near him.  Never asking too many questions.  Never trying to pry.  Hermione did enough of that.  Instead he simply accompanied Harry, willing to play a game of Chess or Exploding Snap, willing to grouse about homework and the Professors.

Hermione meant well; she always did.  He did not get too annoyed at all her questions, her sincere advice, her nagging about his homework and studies.  He saw that she cared and knew she tried to make him feel better with ways that helped her feel better.  It did not work as well for him, but the thought warmed him nonetheless.

The Twins, George and Fred Weasley, did what they did best.  They wreaked merry havoc on any they could.  Even Harry could not avoid being the target of their mischief-making and he adored it.  He knew that their intention was to make him laugh.  In fact, they took the clause of no safe targets to heart.  Harry had spent a day laughing at a civil war that erupted between the twins.  Separately they had planned to prank the other and coincidentally chose the same day to do so.  There were many collateral casualties but the spectacle was worth it.

Ginny had sat with Harry here and there.  They would sit together in companionable silence.  No questions, no banter, no discomfort.  

He appreciated the moments of silence with her.

Despite all that he could never shake off the feeling of Dread.  The Despair seemed to always find him.  Wait for him to drop his guard.  All it took was something that sounded like cold laughter, that sounded like panic and pain, and he would instantly be lost to his deepest and darkest memory.

He was the Boy Who Lived.  He was beginning to question the cost.

-0-

“G-Get away from her!”

Harry was where he both did not want to be and needed to be.  His wand trembled, his hand shook, and his body quaked as he stood between Ginny and the Dementor.

He had heard that Ginny had been attacked.  Well, she had attacked and had been left at the edges of the grounds after her attack.  Draco Malfoy and his cronies had apparently done their usual crude insults directed at Harry.  However it took a turn for the worst.  Somehow, that terrible and terribly personal memory of Harry’s had been revealed to the school.  

Draco had immediately used it with malicious glee.  Mocking Harry over the deaths of his parents, his mother especially.  Even most of his fellow Slytherins had found his antics to be in poor taste but Draco was never one to allow propriety to limit his cruelty.

Ginny had hexed him.  Without hesitation she Bat-Bogey Hexed him, screaming at him all the while.  Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, after stupidly watching their shrieking benefactor try to fight the charmed bogeys, had overpowered the red headed girl.  At Draco’s order, they had dragged her out of the school and left her where the Dementors patrolled.

Harry had heard what happened and ran out of the school.  He ignored Hermione calling him to wait while she ran for a teacher.  He did not join in with Ron, George, and Fred attacking Draco and his goons.  He ran out as fast as he could.  

In one of their silent moments, he had confessed to Ginny what he heard when he was near a Dementor, when he was under the Aura and the Dread.  She in turn told him what she felt, why she nearly went catatonic when she was near one.  She told him of missing memories and blood on her hands and robes.  She told him of younger but achingly familiar cruel cold laughter.  She told him of stone eyes and reptilian fangs.

He would not let her suffer alone.

He saw the Dementor descend upon the girl.  She was already gone, rigid from fear and sobbing silently.  Without hesitation he threw himself between them.

“Go away!” he cried out.  “ Expecto Patronum! ”  He had spent weeks trying to learn the Charm that would protect him from the Dementors.  It was a difficult one and while Remus was an excellent teacher, it was still beyond Harry’s abilities.

A thin silver mist spilled from his wand, a feeble shield slowly taking shape between Harry and the Dementor.  It was enough to make the Dementor pause, but the Aura remained as oppressive as ever.  He could feel it beat against his shield, draining his energy, making him and the shield weaker.

He desperately tried to bring up a happy memory, any happy memory.  He tried to fuel the spell, to make it stronger, to protect him.  To protect her.  

He was failing.

The Dementor drew closer.  A long wasted skeletal hand reached out to him.  It reached towards Ginny.

He thought of the first time he was hugged.  The first time Hermione had crushed his ribs with her arms.  The first time Mrs Weasley had drawn him into a tentative but warm embrace.  The time Ginny had clung to him after she woke in the Chamber of Secrets.

“ EXPECTO PATRONUM!”

The shield flared brightly, the strongest it had ever been.  The barest appearance of something else took shape, a hint of horns, a whisper of hooves.  The stronger spell pushed against the Dementor and the Aura faded noticeably, filling Harry with exhausted hope.  The effort of the spell drained him of energy and he fell to his knees, his eyes closing against his will.

The last thing he saw was the Dementor slowly leaving the pair alone.  The last thing he heard was Hermione screaming and Professor Dumbledore calling.  The last thing he felt was the slightest tingle of a connection, and an immense sensation of confusion.

-0-

Not for the first time, and he knew it certainly would not be the last, Albus Dumbledore cursed the Ministry of Magic.

Not literally of course.  He knew he was a very powerful wizard and curses were not to be idly thrown about.  Instead he non-magically cursed the Ministry, their insistence on using Dementors, their demands to put said Dementors around Hogwarts and Hogsmede, and for many other things.  He saved his last and most severe curse for the suffering of innocents, and how life was simply unfair to certain individuals.

Harry was one of those individuals, and Dumbledore sadly watched the boy being examined by Poppy Pomfrey.  

The Headmaster had been furious.  The Dementors, starved for emotion and Hungering without satiating, had invaded the grounds during the Quidditch game.  Their Hunger had overridden the commands of the Ministry, unable to stay away.  Their presence had interrupted the game, sending students into a panic.

Surprisingly to most but not to him, the Dementors had flocked towards Harry.  Drawn to his pain and intense emotion, they tried to feed from him.  Their Aura, magnified by the sheer number of the Dementors, had knocked the boy out, causing him to fall from his broom.

Dumbledore was able to catch him before he hit the ground.  The other Professors were able to keep the Dementors at bay before he added his considerable Patronus to the fray.  Once banished again from the grounds, Dumbledore had carried Harry to the Medical Ward and eagerly waited for Pomfrey to finish her initial care.

Something had happened however that had made Dumbledore pause ever so slightly.  The pause did not keep him from saving Harry.  If anything, what caused the pause made it easier to do so.

Two figures arrived by his side.  He spoke without shifting his gaze from the unconscious boy’s face.  “I trust the students are safe and everything as they should be?”

“Not as they should be,” Minerva McGonagall said waspishly.  “They won’t be while the Dementors are here.”

Dumbledore agreed with her.  Unfortunately the Minister of Magic disagreed with them, hence the current dilemma.  He coughed slightly.  “Severus, have you seen anything like that before?”

Severus Snape knew what the Headmaster was referring to.  “I…have not.  I will readily admit that I do not know everything about Dementors.”  He shifted slightly.  “That being said, I have never seen any kind of account of one behaving like that.”

McGonagall looked between the two men.  “What are you talking about?”

“One of the Dementors, it did not flock towards Potter.”  Snape’s customary sneer was absent.  He looked thoughtful.  “It…did not try to feed from the boy.  It attacked the other Dementors.”

“Attack the other Dementors?  Surely not!”

Dumbledore spoke softly.  “I am glad to see I was not the only one that noticed.  It held the others at bay.  It pushed them back.  If it did not, then the damage done would have been much more considerable.”

McGonagall’s face was a picture of astonishment.  “Why did it do that?  Has there been any history of a Dementor fighting another?”

“Not as far as I know,” Snape replied.  “Usually, Dementors hunt in tandem.  They will approach their targets together knowing success is more guaranteed.  It is very strange for this to have happened.  There have been times where one can be more…predatory.  Where a particularly strong Dementor will lay first claim.  However-“

“However this one did not try to feed first,” Dumbledore finished.  “It truly held the others back.  IT was almost…protective.”

Pomfrey looked up, doubt written across her face.  “Protective?  A Dementor?  Surely you must be mistaken.”

“It certainly is possible,” Dumbledore admitted.  “In this case however, I am not so sure.”

-0-

Harry could not believe he was doing this, again.  

It was dark, the sun had already set.  Under the cover of his invisibility cloak he had slipped out the main doors of the castle and was walking onto the grounds and towards the Quidditch Pitch.  

He felt something calling to him, for him.  Something tugged on him, a feeling that he could not ignore.  He tried to, for many days.  It was a strong feeling, never fading away.  At first he tried to ignore it.  He had learned a lesson from last year.  Last year he should have not tried to look for the voice in the walls.  If he had spoken to someone about it earlier, perhaps a lot less drama would have happened.

He did not tell anyone about this feeling though so perhaps he was as poor of a learner as Hermione feared he was.

Yet he decided to address it because he realized something while trying to ignore it.  He could not feel the Aura anymore.  That was not completely correct.  He felt the Aura still but it was much less than before, almost hidden or wrapped in some kind of dampening material.  He no longer felt the immense Dread that the Aura inspired.  He was aware of it, like one is aware of the air or the wind.  But it brought him no pain or discomfort.  Instead he felt the connection more.

So he followed the connection and it led him to the Quidditch pitch.  He felt that he might be able to handle himself better.  He had finally produced a form of the Patronus, at least during the other Quidditch match when Draco tried to trick him.  He could reliably produce the shield version much more easily than before.  

He did not feel confident per se, but he knew he could defend himself.  Maybe.

He stood in the middle of the pitch, idly wishing that the cloak would hide him from the cold.  As if in revenge, the cold deepened.  It grew stronger, sinking into his flesh to cling to his bones.  He shivered, his breath becoming visible.  

Then the Dementor became visible.

It glided towards him yet in a way he was not used to.  It did not dive towards him like the others had.  It did not reach out a thin grasping skeletal hand.  It did not immediately try to suck his energy or his emotions or his soul.  It moved slowly, almost hesitantly.  Then it stopped at a very reasonable distance away from him. 

If he had to guess, it looked uncertain.  How he knew it looked uncertain with a hood drawn up and no facial features to go by, he had no idea.

“You’re the one that I…met…on the train,” he said.

The Dementor nodded.

Do Dementors nod?  Harry thought.  “You’re the one that came near Ginny and me.”

Another nod.

Harry opened his mouth but did not speak for a moment.  He had a feeling, one similar to the feeling that pulled him here, and despite assurances from Dumbledore he had to verify it.  “You’re the one that…didn’t try to attack me during the Quidditch match.  You tried to stop the others.”

The Dementor floated silently for a long moment.  Then it nodded a third time.

“Why?”  Harry had thought he had hallucinated the incident.  He had been under a lot of pressure at the time.  He was weak from the rain and the cold.  The Aura from over 10 Dementors had assailed him and he could not defend himself.  He thought seeing a shadowy form chase away the other Dementors to be a fever dream as he fell from his broom.  Apparently it was not.

The Dementor floated silently for even longer moments.  Harry felt stupid.  He did not know if Dementors spoke at all.  What was the point of asking it questions?

He felt even more stupid, not to mention shocked, when it spoke.

“I…did not…want…them to feed.”

The Dementor’s voice was eerie.  The words echoed over themselves, almost as if several voices spoke at the same time but at slightly different speeds.  However, it was only one voice.  A cold raspy voice, one that had not been used in goodness knows how long.  A voice that inspired deep fear.  A voice that invoked ice in the middle of winter.  A voice that promised nothingness and oblivion. 

A voice that was all that and yet distinctly, recognizably, feminine.

“Well…thanks I guess,” he said lamely.  He shuddered at the sound the Dementor made.  It was a hoarse noise, as if it was groaning in pain.  It continued and Harry realized it was laughing.

Do Dementors laugh?

“You are….welcome.”

“Why though?  Why did you stop them from feeding?  Isn’t that what you lot want”

The Dementor, she, floated in place.  “Yes…we must feed.  We hunger…for what we…do not have.  Warmth….heat…positivity.  We crave…it.  We want to consume…it.”  It’s, her, head shook.  “Yours…too precious.  You have…so little as it is.  I do not want…you to lose anymore.”

Harry was completely and utterly gobsmacked.  “Are…all Dementors like you?”

Her head shook again.  “No.  I do not think so.”  Her voice had grown stronger as they spoke.  It resonated less, echoed less.  It still inspired fear and the dark, enhancing the growing shadows around them.  However it was becoming less forced, less pained.  “I am beginning to remember things, feel things.  Things I have not in ages.”

“What do you mean?”

She floated closer and waited for him to nod before approaching.  She still stopped at a fair distance away.  Despite the proximity, Harry did not feel the same despair that he used to.  That horrible memory that he hated and craved for did not surface.  He felt in control of himself.

“Before, before your spell, all I could think of was the Hunger.  It calls to us, constantly rules over us.  It guides our actions, forces us to feed.  We crave positive energy, we lust for it.  We can survive without, but it is an obsession that defines us.  We think not of anything else save the desire to consume emotion.”

She descended, hovering very slightly over the ground.  She still towered over him, but was not as intimidating as she once was.  Not as intimidating.

“But since your spell, I can think.  I can think of other things.  I do not hunger as I used to.  I do not crave as strongly as I did.  I still do, and even now a part of me desires your thoughts…”  Her arm rose slightly but she forced it down with the other.  “I can resist.  I…resist.  The idea of you losing your life force by my action is…distasteful.”

Harry could only stare at her.  So overwhelmed, he missed what she said.  “I’m sorry,” he admitted with bright red cheeks, “could you say that again?”

She laughed again, it was definitely a laugh this time, a recognizable one.

“How?  What did you do to me?”

Harry shrugged.  “I don’t know, I mean, I can barely cast a Patronus Charm.  I was told it’s supposed to chase you away.  Drive you back from being pure positive energy.”

She aped his shrug.  “Yes.  In the past the Patronus did as you say.  We cannot withstand it.  It drives us back, banishes us.  Yours…was not fully formed-“

“Corporeal you mean?” 

“Yes!  Corporeal.  When I approached the girl and you, you could barely keep me at bay with your shield.  Yet when you thought of your affection, the first times you were treated to love, it struck me like no Patronus had ever before.  Since then…I can keep the Hunger at bay.  I had thought….it was something that can be done to others.”

“Sorry, it’s not like I intended to do that.”  He blushed deeper.  “Not to say I mind that it happened.  I mean, I’m glad you’re…less hungry.  But I don’t really have a good answer for you.  I can ask my Professor, the one who taught me, if you like.”

She nodded and then slowly started to drift away.

Harry thought about what she said.  “You…saw the memories I used to fuel the Charm.”

She stopped and turned to face him, another nod.

“Do you always see them with every Charm?”

“Sometimes.  We can see the driving emotion in the memory.  We can feel as you felt when the memory was made.”

Harry felt embarrassed, mortified that the Dementor had felt the shock of being loved, of feeling affection for the first time like he did.  “What…what did you feel?” he asked.

“No longer hungry.”

-0-

Harry felt his wand drop from nerveless fingers.  He was beyond exhausted.  He felt like he had run for miles without rest.  His throat was raw from screaming the Patronus Charm again and again.  His eyes hurt from blinding white light and devouring black shadows.  Tears ran down his cheeks, burning and freezing.

“Harry!”

He smiled.  “Mom?”

“Harry!  You must remain strong!”

He shook his head.  He never remembered Lily saying that.  His mind must be going.  “Mom, I’m so tired.”

His knees buckled and he fell to the hard ground.  He never fell all the way.  Hands kept him from colliding with the unforgiving earth.  Long skeletal hands that burned and froze his skin.

“Harry!”

His eyes opened and he looked without seeing.  He slowly recognized a ragged black hood.  “Oh, you’re not mom.  Hi…I never asked your name.  Do Dementors have names?”

Her head shook, the cowl moved wildly.  “No, no, no!  They took too much!  No, Harry, wait.  You must remain.  You will remain!”

The hands let him go, gently placing him on the ground.  He could not move, staring up at the night sky.  He tried to, but his body would not obey.

He listened instead.  A tiny feeling of relief grew in his heart as he heard the gasping of Sirius Black beside him.  He was alive.  

He heard something else.  A loud primordial shriek shattered the air.  He would have flinched if he had the ability to.  He shuddered on the cold ground, the sound washed over him and he felt the Dread and the Aura at full force.  It almost undid him.

Skeletal hands lifted him up and he writhed in agony.  He wanted it to end.

A skeletal hand gently pulled on his chin, opening his mouth.  He breathed deep and felt something enter him.  It felt like warm air was being blown into his lungs.  It revitalized him.  It took away the chill in his body.  It filled him with intense pain.  

He felt himself slip into blessed unconsciousness.  

-0-

“Any minute now, Hermione.  He’ll come and save us.  I know he will.”

“Harry…” Hermione wrung her hands.  This was the hardest thing she had ever watched in her life.  Sirius Black, laid out on the ground.  Harry Potter, a thin boy wielding a wand, against a horde of Dementors.  The dark creatures swirled around the pair, hands grasping and clawing, energy faded off them in waves.  She watched them get weaker and weaker.  

“Harry, your father, he’s dead.  He can’t save you.  We have to save you.  That’s why we’re here.”

“But…I saw him.  I know I did.”  Harry watched himself being devoured by the Dementors.  It was the latest strangest thing he had ever seen in an increasingly strange life.  He watched himself try to drive the Dementors away. He watched himself fail.

He watched himself die.

Hermione gasped.  “Is that one…is that a Dementor fighting other Dementors?”

The pair watched in astonishment as one Dementor clearly fought the others.  It was only one against many, but it pushed them back.  It clawed at them, forcing them away.  There were too many to fight and most of the Dementors ignored the rogue one, lost in a frenzy.  Lost to the Hunger.

In one desperate move, the rogue Dementor shrieked.  A noise that stopped all the other Dementors for one brief moment.  

It was enough.

Harry leapt forward from his vantage point and screamed.  “EXPECTO PATRONUM!”

His Patronus leapt out of his wand, fully corporeal, a figure of pure silver white.  The stag reared and charged.  It drove the Dementors away, forcing them back and away from the pair of wizards on the ground.  

The rogue Dementor was also driven back, but it did not fly away like the others did.  It hovered and after the stag chased after the other Dementors, it flew down to the boy and the man.

“Oh no!  There’s one left!  Hurry Harry, you must stop it.”  Hermione pulled out her wand and was about to leap out but Harry stopped her.

“Wait!  I know what she, its, did.  Or about to do.”

The pair watched as the Dementor caught the collapsing past Harry, lowering him gently to the ground.  It then flew at the other Dementors, still being chased by the Patronus.  They watched with open jawed amazement as the rogue ripped the enemy Dementor to literal shreds.  The other Dementor shrieked as it died, torn apart.  The rogue gathered a lingering essence before flying back to the Harry that lay on the ground.

“What…what is it doing?” Hermione asked.

“Saving my life.”

-0-

He realized this was the first time he ever saw a Dementor in the daylight.  Usually they came when things were dark or dreary.  Or perhaps they made things dark and dreary.  She did not seem to enjoy the direct sunlight.  She floated near him, in the shade of a tree.

“Thank you,” he said.

She turned to look at him, well at least the cowl turned towards him.  “You are welcome.”

He chuckled softly.  It was almost a repeat of their first conversation.  A little less forced.  A little less awkward.  Not normal by any stretch of the imagination, but not as strange.  

“I have a question for you,” she said.

“Sure.”

“You called me Mom, that night.  Why?”

He flushed.  “Because…you kind of sounded like her at the time.  I know you don’t, but the Aura was making me remember when Voldemort attacked.  The way you said my name, it was like how she said my name.  You both…cared for my well being.  That’s why.”

Silence.

“I…am not your mother Harry.”

“I know.  I’m sorry if I offended you.”

“You did not.”

Another silence.

“May I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“What is your name?  Do Dementors have names?”

“You have already asked me that, that night.  I could not answer then.  I…cannot answer you now.  Dementors generally do not have names.  In many ways, Dementors share a single mind to feed, facets of Hunger.  Typically very little separates us, designates us.  However,” her voice trailed away, almost wistfully.  “I think I do have a name.  Or I did.  I do not know it now.  I hope one day to.”

More silence.

“Since I already asked you that question, mind if I ask another?”

She laughed.  “I will allow it.”

“May I ask why you saved me?  Again?”

She giggled.  Not a laugh, but a distinct giggle.  It was still an eerie sound but it no longer made him shiver from fear.  “I have…a couple of reasons.  One selfless.  One selfish.  Which would you like to hear?”

His snort brought a new burst of giggles.  “Gee when you put it like that.  Both please.  I’m a little tired of not knowing things.”

She floated silently for a moment.  “I need to know how this happened.  I need to know why I am like this.  I am different than other Dementors now.  I can feel other emotions.  I can feed and stop myself.  I can deny the Hunger.  I cannot be the only one.”  

Her arms wrapped around herself.  “I must learn more.  Learn what I am.  Perhaps find a way to change others.  To see if they can be like me.  Since you are the reason I am like this, I thought it would be best for your aid.  You can see things from a wizard’s side.  I will see things from a Dementor’s side.  Together, we can learn more.  Perhaps…I may even learn my name.”

“That makes sense.  Since you’ve saved me twice now, I’ll be happy to help.  Less…hungry…Dementors can only be a good thing.  For wizards and witches and Dementors.”  

They lapsed into silence.

“And the other reason?”

“I would not let you lose your soul.”  The heavy statement was said lightly.  “I would not allow you to become a Husk.  You have suffered enough in your short life.  That fate will not be yours, as long as I can prevent it.”

If she saw him blush she made no sign of it.  

“Uh….thanks.  I guess,” he said knowing full well how lame it sounded and it made him blush harder.

“You are welcome.  Take care Harry Potter, we will meet again.”  The Dementor drifted away, sinking deeper into the Forbidden Forest and the dark places in the woods.

“Wait!”

She paused; her ragged robes just barely visible.

“Which reason was the selfish one?”

She giggled again.  “I suppose we will find out when things come to an end.”

He knew she had left completely because he could no longer feel the Aura.  He shivered slightly, as if a blanket was suddenly taken away.  Despite the bright sunlight, the warm air, the returning birdsong, he felt adrift for some reason.  With a shy smile he walked back towards the castle.  “I suppose so.”

Chapter Text

A Dance of Dementors

Chapter 2: Fourth Year, Questions Asked

Arthur Weasley looked surprised at the question.  “Why Harry, what brought this about?”

Harry grinned, trying to look like someone who asked random questions for purely educational purposes.  He was reminded of Hermione and tried very hard to mimic an expression she would wear.  “Well I know you work for the Ministry and seeing how they are technically a part of the Ministry, you might know more about them.”

Arthur rubbed his chin.  “I wouldn’t say they were a part of the Ministry.  Not technically work for the Ministry either.  More like the Ministry is somewhat responsible for them.  They like to think they have a lot of control over them but,” he dropped his voice into a whisper, “they really don’t.  Not as much as they like but you didn’t hear that from me.”

“So sort of like you and the twins then?” Harry whispered back mischievously.  “You being somewhat responsible for them and not having as much control over them.”

Arthur laughed heartily.  The other members of the family and Hermione looked their way with interest but Arthur waved a hand at them.  “Oh that was very funny Harry,“ he chortled.  “And more accurate than I like.  Don’t say that to Molly.  She’d be scandalized.”  He sipped his wine. 

“Well, I don’t know much about them but I’ll answer any questions that I can.  I can’t fault you for being curious.  That sort of thing…always does.”

Harry shuddered a little like Arthur did.  For a moment he regretted asking the question.  It was a beautiful night.  The food was delicious, the company wonderful.  Tomorrow they would head out to the Quidditch World Cup.  It was not the best time to ask such a question.

However Harry knew he may not have time after the World Cup to ask.  He had no access to any Wizarding World knowledge when he was at the Dursley’s.  He also imagined it was not something he would want to ask about in a letter sent by Hedwig.  Plus he trusted Mr Weasley.  His male best friend’s father had always been kind and honest to Harry.  He was the one that warned Harry about Sirius Black before anyone else last year.

Arthur had been wrong of course but that could be forgiven since he did not know what really happened.  

“Just a couple of questions Mr Weasley.  I won’t let it ruin things.  Just a bit curious.  Ever since last year you know.”  Harry coughed.  “Where are Dementors originally from?”

“Not sure really.  They’ve been around for ages.  If I can recall, their origin had been long forgotten, encouraged by the early Ministries.  There are two major thoughts about them: that they were either created in some dark experiment, or they were discovered.  Maybe a combination of both?  It’s hard to imagine that Dementors were a natural creature, terrifying and dangerous.”

“You could say the same about dragons and basilisks though.”

Arthur nodded.  “You’re not wrong.  Still, I might rather go against a dragon or a basilisk over a Dementor.  Though if I’m being honest I rather not go against any of them.  I have plenty to deal with here at home.”  The patriarch looked fondly at the twins fleeing their mother for one of their pranks.  

Harry laughed as he watched the chase around the garden.  “So Dementors have always worked as guards of Azkaban?”

“Just about.  Azkaban used to be the private island of an ancient Dark Lord.  I think after he was defeated, he became the first inmate.  It was always a bleak place and as you might imagine, not many would willingly be guards of dangerous individuals so far away.  Then one day Dementors were patrolling the island and most of Magical United Kingdom breathed a sigh of relief.”

“Even…after most of them joined Voldemort-sorry, You-Know-Who?”  Harry, so used to saying Voldemort’s name, momentarily forgot that most others avoided the name and would flinch violently at it being said.  

“Well, yes and no.  Dumbledore was the most outspoken during and after the war.  He said they could not be trusted since they did join the other side.  He did not blame them though surprisingly.  He said it is in their nature to feed on positive feelings and emotion.  That they suffer from a Hunger.”

Harry leaned forward.  He knew that fact from Her, the rogue Dementor he…befriended…last year.  Now he was starting to make good his promise on learning more about Dementors.

“Still, there was a dreadful rush to get things back to normal.  So Fudge ignored Dumbledore, saying that with You-Know-Who gone, the threat of betrayal is no longer a threat.”  Arthur shrugged.  “I can’t say I am sad about Dementors guarding Azkaban.  That being said, I’ve been there before for work.”  He shivered.  “It is not a pleasant place to be.”

Harry sat back.  “Have Dementors joined other Dark Lords in the past?”

“Now that you mention it, no.  Not en masse.  One or two here and there but those were more personally enthralled.  I guess You-Know-Who offered them something that the others didn’t.”

The boy smiled at the older wizard.  “Thanks Mr Weasley.  I’m sorry for ruining your night by asking weird questions.  I just figured you wouldn’t mind answering them.”

“Of course Harry.”  Arthur squeezed the boy’s shoulder.  “I’m happy that you feel like you can ask me questions.  You didn’t ruin anything.  I was just surprised.”  A loud explosion rocked the garden and Molly’s voice rose higher as she chased the twins even faster, trailing smoke and sparks.

“Now this isn’t surprising at all,” Arthur said wearily to Harry’s laughter.  “Still doesn’t ruin anything either though.”

-0-

Bill Weasley walked into the room just as Ron stormed out.  Ron was so irate he completely ignored Bill as he walked out, Pigwidgeon the owl in his hands.  

“Sheesh, what bent his wand?” Bill asked Harry.

Harry looked sheepish, pointing to the dress robes on Ron’s bed.

“Ahhhh, I told mum that she should have picked something else.”  Bill held up the vintage robes and gave it a closer look.  “To be fair, these looked a lot nicer at the store.  Then again, might be because the other options were a lot worse.”  He held the robes to his front.  “I bet I could pull these off though.”

Harry laughed.  He liked the oldest Weasley sibling a lot, despite just meeting him a few days prior.  He radiated cool, had an easy-going nature that was equal parts confident and kind.  

Bill smirked.  “I did offer to get Ron’s dress robes, but I was already getting Ginny’s and helping with the general things.  Mum didn’t want me to be spending too much.  I wanted to, but, well you know.”

Harry did know.  He desperately wanted to help the Weasleys.  The first family that had wanted him to be there.  He wanted to give them everything.

The older redhead clapped Harry on the shoulder.  “Hey don’t worry about it.  We’ll get by.  I know you’re a good kid.”  He closed the door behind them and locked it with a wave of his wand.  “Good thing I knew that before you asked me to get this book for you.”

Harry tried to look innocent and was failing slightly.  “Thanks Bill, I’m glad you got it for me.  You know, I probably should have given you a few extra Galleons for shipping and handling.”

Bill did not hand the book over.  “And for not telling mum you mean.  If she knew you wanted this, you’d be getting an ear full and no book.”

“That’s why I didn’t ask her.  I asked Ron’s cooler older brother that I can ask anything.”

Bill laughed loudly.  “You’ve learned a few things from the twins!  Sneaky, I’ll have to keep my eye on you Potter.”  He handed the book over.  “Now, I’d appreciate you telling me why you want a book about Dementors.  There really aren’t many of them and most people who get them are usually either dodgy or are in a business where they need to know.  Thankfully I’m in the latter.  Where are you?”

Harry blushed.  “Uhm, the third one.  The one where people have a morbid fascination and want to learn for no other reason?”

“People don’t want to learn things for no reason.”

“Have you met Hermione?”

Bill laughed again.  “Alright, you got me there.  Just promise me something.  Don’t go showing that book off and don’t go telling people what’s in it.  I’m trusting you here.”

“I swear, this is to help me.”  And someone else .

Bill smiled.  “Sounds good.  Now tell me more about how much cooler I am.”

-0-

This time, Harry could believe he was doing this.

Since returning to Hogwarts, he had felt the connection grow stronger.  All summer it was dormant but there.  A tiny feeling that never went away completely.  It no longer bothered him, just something that was there.  If anything he liked it.  It was a tiny connection to the events of last year.

The last few nights he had been reading Dancers in the Dark, a Dissertation on Dementors.  Ron had been disgusted that Harry was reading for fun.  While Hermione approved of the activity, she found the subject too much for her.  However she did not try to dissuade him, even showing interest when Harry shared the more mild things he learned.

At first he thought the connection was growing stronger because he was reading about Dementors.  There were times he had to suppress some memories while reading the book.  He physically felt the unfortunately familiar sensations described.  It was quite fascinating in a morbid way.  It gave him the, odd, thrill of learning while learning a bit too much about the darker side of magic.

Goodness, is this what Hermione feels all the time?  A thrill for learning?

He knew that he only liked learning more, that he was willing to learn more, for a certain individual.  An individual that had saved his life.  He did not feel obligated to help her.  He did not feel forced to read and learn more.  He genuinely wanted to.  

It felt nice to want to help.

The connection grew the more he read and one night, ensconced in a cozy corner looking out of a window in Gryffindor tower, he found himself looking out over the forest.  The connection became a call, a subtle but noticeable tugging.  He looked out and blinked.  He imagined he could see a flicker of movement at the forest’s edge.

He blinked again.  He definitely saw something moving.  Something swathed in dark ragged robes.  

Harry ran to the dormitory and grabbed his cloak.  On the way down the stairs he found Fred and told him, untruthfully, that he heard some students at the fire saying that it was a quiet night.  Harry slipped out of the tower during the ensuing chaos.  Fred had taken the false words to heart, found George, and now the common room rang from an impromptu concert of enchanted instruments.

Harry found himself approaching an ancient tree.  It was the unofficial border between the school’s grounds and the Forbidden Forest proper.  It was very big, long roots peeked out from the ground, perfect for sitting on and hiding between.  He recognized it as the last place he saw her last year.

He did not wait long.  First he shivered lightly from the night’s chill.  Then the shiver intensified as he felt something wash over him.  As soon as it appeared however, it faded.  Turning from bone chilling despair to a very mild frost.

“Hi uh….  We really need to find your name.  I don’t know what to call you.”

The floating robed figure drifting down from the tree tops.  Its frayed and ragged robes somehow avoided every branch and twig, passing untouched.  It settled nearby, closer than it ever approached Harry last year save for that one terrible time.

“It is near the top of my list,” she said.  Gone was the rasp in her voice.  Gone was the strange echoing of words overlapping words.  Her voice was still deep, it still spoke of the shadow and of the dark.  However it was definitely brighter.  

“What’s at the top?”

“Greeting you and seeing how you are.”

Harry blushed, thankful that it was night and he could hide his crimson face.  Then he idly wondered if Dementors saw like he did.  “I’m doing fine thank you.  How are you?”

She giggled, that spectral sound that was both comforting and disturbing.  “Well.  Better.  I have more control now over my thoughts and urges.  I have grown in my ability to ignore the Hunger.  I have learned much this summer.”

Harry waved the book that he brought.  “I’m starting to learn stuff too!  Let’s trade information.”

He told her how Dementors did exist naturally.  There were accounts of Dementors being found in places steeped in dark magic.  However there also seemed to be different kinds of Dementors.  Some were more powerful, more hungry.  These stronger Dementors were harder to banish with a Patronus but none were immune.  The stronger Dementors could exert a small amount of control over other Dementors.  They were more clever, able to perform different tasks.

“I believe that is correct,” she mused.  “I have noticed that there are some of my kind that are weaker to the wills of others.  They fall prey to their Hunger far more easily than others.  They are baser creatures, more susceptible to their base desires.  It is something I never would have noticed before becoming this way.  I have been able to influence some to my will.  Most interesting.”

Harry felt elated.  Here he was getting first hand experiences from a Dementor, and it was supporting what he was reading.  He found himself looking forward to reading more.

I really am becoming more like Hermione.  I guess I shouldn’t tease her as much for reading.  

Harry told her of the first few days of school.  Of Mad-Eye Moody and the Tri-Wizard Tournament.

“He is known to me, the Auror,” she said.  “Be wary of him Harry.”

“You think he means to hurt us?” he asked, worried.

“No, but he has peered long into the dark.  He has fought evil.  The longer you spend in the presence of the dark, the more at risk you are.  I do not believe he means you ill.  However, I rather you be careful.”

He felt touched by her concern.  It embarrassed him, but it also made him feel good.  Here, a so-called dark creature, cared about him.  He knew she did, since she saved his life last year.  More than the one time really.

“Well I’m spending time with you but I think I’m safe.”

She floated higher off the ground.  Her arms clutched at herself.  She wavered in the night air.

Harry felt the connection between them flare.  It seemed to tingle and for the first time he felt something besides the call and the presence.  He felt warmth.  

“You will always be safe in my presence.  I guarantee it.”  Thankfully she seemed to ignore his second blush of the night.  “I hope you do not intend on participating in the tournament.”

Harry snorted.  “No, not interested at all.  I want a boring year.  Besides I’m too young.”

“Good.  I can remember being a part of the tournament once.  It was…unpleasant.  Now that I look back at it.”

“As a champion?”  Harry asked without thinking.

“No.”

He thought again and winced and blushed a third time.  “Oh, right.  Sorry.”

She giggled.  “No need to be.”  She rose into the air and began to drift deeper into the woods.  “I must go.  While the Ministry does not seem to make a distinction between us, if I am gone too long they will question.  I rather not add to your problems.  However, if you need of me, call me and I will come as soon as I am able.”

“Oh thanks.  I hope you don’t get into trouble, if Dementors can get into trouble.  You’re a good friend.”

She paused and the connection burned.  “What did you call me?”

“Uhm, I said or I mean, I called you a good friend.  Is that okay?  I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to offend you.”

The silence dragged on, louder than thunder.  It threatened to swallow Harry.

“You did not offend me.  I am proud to be your friend.”

She fled deeper into the forest and Harry felt the Aura disappear completely.  He walked back to the castle, blaming the cold for how red his face was.

-0-

“Harry?”

He looked up, shocked.  He did not think anyone would find him.  In fact he had hid here deliberately so no one should have found him.  He had tucked himself between the roots of the tree, facing away from the castle.  He wore his cloak and did his ample best to sob as silently as possible.

The days after Halloween had been among the worst of his life.  Not only was it the grim reminder of the day he lost his parents, the day that he got his scar, he had been forced to be the fourth champion.  The hate he had gotten from the majority of the school, the contempt from the students visiting the school, the anger he felt from the unfairness of it all consumed him.

The lost of one of his best friends shattered him.

He had been completely overwhelmed and had fled the common room.  He was going to wait for nightfall to slip away.  It was too much however.  He had seen so many of those damn badges on the way to Gryffindor tower.  He had heard too many insults thrown his way from those he used to call friendly classmates. 

Hearing nothing from Ron had broken him further.

“Harry.  What happened?”

He looked about for the speaker, confused when he saw no one.  Then he recognized the voice and looked up.

She floated above him.  She was shivering, her robes undulating from obvious discomfort.  The sunlight seemed drawn to her and he thought he could see wisps of some kind material floating off of her.  The sunlight was dissolving her robes, slowly.

She tried to float closer to him but she visibly restrained herself.  It was not because of the sunlight.  He was sitting in the shadow of the tree.  He realized belatedly it was out of respect for him.  Out of care.  Her Aura clung to him but it did not cause him Dread.  He oddly found it comforting, like a wet blanket on a hot day.  Uncomfortable under some conditions, craved for during others.

“Can’t you see what happened, my thoughts and memories?” he said bitterly.  He groaned at her flinch.  Here he was being rude to someone that cared about him.  Perhaps only one of two that really cared about him.  And she was not even human.

He felt worse.

“I could yes.  But that is something a friend would not do to a friend.”  Her voice held no contempt, no anger, no condemnation.  It was said simply.  Sincerely.

Somehow, he felt even worse.

“I’m sorry.  I didn’t-“

“You did not offend me,” she interrupted.  She giggled and the sound went through him.  “Tell me what has happened.  Please.”

His voice broke and his words flooded out of him.  He told her about being the fourth champion.  How the Hufflepuffs and the Ravenclaws had turned on him.  How Fleur Delacour and Viktor Krum and Cedric Diggory looked down on him.  How Ron had abandoned him.

She did not interrupt him once.  

When he finally stopped speaking, when he panted from exhaustion from letting everything out, she floated until she was by his side.  

“I am so sorry Harry.  If I could consume your pain, I would.  Unfortunately, things do not work that way.”

He nodded.  If anyone had ever told him he would want a Dementor to eat his emotions he would say they were crazy.  Now it seemed rather worth it.

“I don’t know what to do,” he said softly.

“You will do what you always do.  You will survive.  You will endure.  You will overcome.”

He snorted.  

Her cowled head turned to him and there was no mistaking the conviction in her voice.  “You are strong.  You are a boy.”  If a cowl could smile, hers would have when she saw Harry bristle.  “You are a young man, but not a fully mature Wizard of a man.  You drove off a pack of Dementors.  You saved the lives of others.  You survived.  You have made me into something different.  There is no doubt, you are strong.”

For some reason, being praised by a Dementor made it more palatable than coming from others.  “Thanks, I guess.”

“You are welcome.”

They sat together in the tiny oasis of darkness in the sea of sunlight.

“How did you know I was here?”

“Your pain called out to me.  My Hunger…craved it.  I craved to aid you instead.”

“Oh.”

The silence between them was warm.

“Any advice for the coming task?”

She shook her head.  “I cannot interfere.  The tournament is a strong magical event.  If I interfere without the express invitation of the Ministry it will be my undoing.  I cannot chance that now.  Any other way I may aid you, I will do so.  However, I have belief in your abilities Harry.  And in you.”

“Thanks.  I mean it.  It’s nice knowing someone does.”

She drifted away.  “I am not the only one, but I am one.”

-0-

“I am happy to see you in finer spirits.”

Harry grinned.  After the first task, it was hard not to smile.  It only took a Summoning Charm, his Firebolt, and a dragon to change his formerly disastrous mood.  While he liked how things were now, the remedy was almost worse than the condition.  

He told her about the first task, how he managed to get the Golden Egg.  How the school was much nicer to him now.  How Ron was nicer to him now.

She clapped her hands but no sound came forth.  The motion was there however, and the intent behind the gesture.

“Well done,” she said.  “I had no doubt.”

“I had plenty for the both of us,” he joked.  He ran a hand through his hair and deflated slightly.

“What is wrong now?  I thought you do not know the contents of your second clue yet.”

He looked sheepish.  “Well, it’s kinda silly to complain about this considering it’s not a…you know…dragon.  But I have to find a date to the Yule Ball.  As a champion I am pretty much on display and I can’t skip the ball and I can’t not have a date.  It’s…strangely more stressful than my first task.”

“Surely there are many who would accompany you.”

He shrugged.  “I guess?  I mean, yeah I’ve been asked but I don’t know them.  And I don’t want to just go with anyone.  I want to be…comfortable around them.  I want them to want to go with me because of…me.  Not because I’m the Boy-Who-Lived, or because I’m a champion.” 

The silence grew awkward.  

Harry felt the connection shift slightly, it started to pull on him.  He felt his energy being drained ever so slightly.  It was not the same intensity of the Aura devouring happy thoughts or positive emotions.  It was a tentative feeling, of someone shyly sipping from a straw.

She was changing.  She drifted to the ground and stood upon it with human legs.  The ragged overlarge robes began to shift and shrink, revealing human limbs, revealing skin.  The cowl fell away and for a moment a featureless head with only a gaping maw was seen before it began to change.  Hair sprouted from the top of the skull.  The mouth shrank and changed.  

She had changed.  Her robes still looked archaic, the edges somewhat frayed and ragged.  She was still thin, almost wasted looking.  Her eyes were overlarge, deep set.  They lacked pupils and looked like pools of purple black ink.  Her hair was grey with black strands, hanging down to her waist.  Her skin was marble pale, untouched by sunlight.  

She still towered over him.  She still had the Aura.  She looked and felt something close to human but was not quite.

She’s beautiful.

Harry’s face went as red as a tomato, hoping he did not say his thoughts out loud.

She gave no indication that she had heard it.  Instead she walked slowly, like someone unused to walking, to the lake’s edge.  She looked down at her reflection and an uncertain smile grew.  “Almost perfect.”

“Perfect?”

She looked at him and he thought he should be bothered by featureless eyes.  He was not in the slightest.

“I remember this form.  This is a person in my memories.  Every day I think I see a little more of her and I am pleased to appear like her.  She feels…familiar.”

“That’s amazing.  I’m happy you’re remembering more.  I didn’t know Dementors could even do that.  The memory thing and the changing thing.”  He stumbled over his words, cursing himself silently.

“I did not know I could,” she admitted.  “I wanted to try and help, and the idea came to me.  It is only possible by borrowing some of your magic.  I hope you do not mind.”  She looked uncertain, shy.

“Of course I don’t!  It’s different with you…borrowing…it like this.  It doesn’t feel like draining.  It feels like me casting a spell.”

She smiled.

“Good.  I am glad to hear that.”

“I thought you weren’t allowed to interfere with a task though,” he said, cursing himself more intensely.

“Since this is an unofficial task, one not scored for the tournament, I believe it is fine.  Besides, you are a representative of the Ministry in this case, as a designated champion.  If you…invite…me, then in essence I have the permission to accompany you.  Should you wish.”  Her pale skin tinged ever so slightly.

“Yes!  I mean I do wish it.  I mean, ugh wait.”  He rubbed sweaty hands on his pants.  “Would you like to go to the ball with me?”

Her smile grew brighter.

“I would like that.”  She frowned slightly.  “Not quite like this however.”

He watched in astonishment as her form shrank further.  Her limbs shortened; her features softened.  After a few moments she was shorter than she was, though still taller than Harry.  She looked youthful now, a younger version of the form she had before.

“I was too old for you, in the last form.”  Her marble skin took a dusky hue.  “I am still older but I look more…appropriate.  I would not wish to embarrass you.”

He grinned.  “You did not embarrass me.”

-0-

If anyone told Harry that he would enjoy himself at the Yule Ball he would say they were delusional.  

Now that he was at the Ball, he could admit that he was having a wonderful time.

Getting permission from Professor Dumbledore had been difficult.  He tried to be as vague as he could to the Headmaster about her origins.  He knew Dumbledore would not believe him that she was some foreign visiting student.  Instead he had said, truthfully, that she was a friend.  

Dumbledore insisted on meeting her and when they did, with her in her youthful form, the older wizard had looked very grave.  If he truly knew what she was he never said it out loud.  Instead he had a long discussion with both of them.  It took several oaths and promises to allow her to attend.  

Finally he allowed it when Harry reminded him that Harry was an unwilling participant in the tournament and Dumbledore could explain to the Daily Prophet why the fourth champion refused to attend.  That Harry was more than willing to ignore the rest of the tournament and participate in a most unflattering manner.

Dumbledore agreed in the end.  When he did, he had a very distinct twinkle in his eye.  A twinkle Harry recognized as one that George and Fred had most of the time.  Of someone who knew they were about to cause mischief and looked forward to the results.

All night people have been staring at Harry and his date and for once it was not because of Harry, but because of her.  He loved it.

He thought she might be enjoying the attention to.

She had said as much.  Not because she desired the attention per se.  But that it was attention not focused on him.  She even let her Aura slip a little around those that had particularly cruel and rude to Harry the last few months.

He knew he should have told her not to.  He never found the time nor the motivation.

He told no one else the identity to his date save for Hermione.  At first he was afraid she would protest nor approve.  Luckily Hermione did not exactly approve but was more or less accepting of the situation once she met the Dementor.  It was a mark in her favor that Hermione had seen the Dementor defend Harry last year.

Hermione could not withstand the Aura for long, but she attempted to.  Something that Harry was incredibly thankful for.

During the opening dance Harry felt both out of place and where he felt like he should be.  He hated being the center of attention.  He hated the strange looks he got, felt confusion at the jealous looks, hated being on display.  

He liked that he was accompanied by someone that was there for him.  Not for his title, not for what he did as a baby.  He was happy to have a friend with him.  Even the dancing was pleasant.  Touching her hand and side was a little odd.  Her skin was cold, possessing no warmth despite the fires and the Warming Charms cast on the Great Hall.  It was not completely unpleasant however.  It was like touching a popsicle on a summer day, a very extreme temperature that was shocking but welcoming.

She moved gracefully.  She did not control him nor push him.  She subtly guided him in a very old but elegant dance.  She practically, and literally, floated on her feet.  Her touch was also ice cold but it did not bother him.  It soothed him, like an ice pack on tired muscles.

Eventually they left the Ball, her Aura keeping people from following.  They walked hand in hand to the edge of the grounds.  The cold winter air was enhanced by the night, amplified by her Aura, yet Harry was not bothered in the slightest.

“You enjoyed that too much,” he said with a smile.

“I did.”  She wore the smile easily now.  A hint of naturalness on a supernatural face.  “Dementors are creatures of emotion.  Dancing, singing, are expressions of emotion.  It calls to us as much as positive feelings do.  It is a natural, primal thing.  Something I have not shared in for ages.  I usually consume and devour.  It was pleasant to be a part of it for once.  To add to it instead of taking.”

Her smile grew predatory.  “Besides, it was nice to…chastise your errant classmates for their misdeeds.”

He chuckled.  “You should be careful.  We had to make a deal with Dumbledore after all.”

She tossed her head and her heavy grey black hair swayed.  “I was on my best behavior.  I ate nothing.  Your magic sustained me quite comfortably.  I kept a firm control over my Aura, with an unfortunate slip here and there.  I did not Kiss anyone.”

Harry laughed.  “Did you have fun?”

A pause.  

“I did.”  

Another pause.

“Did you?”  Her voice was hesitant.

“So much,” he said easily.

“Good.  I am glad.”  Her voice warmed ever so slightly.

They reached the edge of the forest and he reluctantly released her hand.  The returning warmth to his skin was welcome but he almost rather it was still missing, for a specific reason.  He watched her change.  She grew in height again.  Her robes shifted back to the ragged swirls of heavy shadowy cloth.  

Before the cowl reappeared, before her hair dissolved and her eyes faded, her face dipped towards his and then drew back.

Harry’s cheek burned and froze.  It tingled where her lips touched.  

“I…I thought you said you wouldn’t kiss anyone.”

The cowl came up and her face was swallowed by the darkness within.  “Oh Harry, there is Kissing, and then there is kissing.  I broke no promises.”

He was alone.  Her Aura was absent.  The cold he felt was purely from the winter’s chill in the middle of the night.  Yet, as he walked slowly back to the castle, the tingle in his cheek did not fade.

-0-

He sat and waited, listening to the water of the lake lap against the shore.  His eyes were closed, a vain attempt to not see everything that happened the last two days.  Too much had happened.  Too much for a lifetime, much less in only two days.

Hedges that reached for the sky.  Giant beasts of chitin and pincers.  A graveyard.  Figures cloaked in black and masked in silver.  A terrible nightmare made into reality.  A dead classmate, a friend.

His parents, echoes of who they were in life.

He wanted to cry.  To sob and wail.  He wanted to scream.  He could not do any of those things.  He had done enough of them to last a lifetime.

A lifetime in two days.

He felt her Aura.  It draped over him, drew him in.  He felt her approach, closer and closer.  He felt a skeletal hand rest on his arm.  Her touch burned his skin through the robes.  

He welcomed it.  

“Are you sure you can’t eat my pain?” he asked lamely, with more than a hint of desperate hope.

“I am sure.”  Her reply dripped with sadness and want.  “I truly wish I could.”

“I don’t know if I’d let you to be honest, I bet it would taste bad.”

The sound of the water filled the air.

“Harry, I do not wish to add to your problems, but I need to tell you something.”

He groaned.  “As if I don’t have enough going on.  Alright then, go ahead.”

“He is calling us.”

His eyes opened and he looked at her in horror.  “What?”

“He calls.  The Wasted One.  His rebirth sent waves of dark magic throughout.  I could feel his return, all my kind could.  Already he calls for us, to tell us to go to him.  He promises us what he did before: ripe prey.  Their agony fresh, their emotions raw, all for the taking.”

Harry did not stop the sob in his voice.  “How can we fight against that?  How can I fight against that?  Are the Dementors going to him?”

“Some are.  The weakest and most base of the Dementors flock to him.  The older and stronger remain but some remain at his command.”

Harry wanted to beat his head against the ground but something made him stop.  A tone in her voice.  A reservation.  “Some do?  At his command?”  His heart rose ever so slightly at her nod.  “But not all?”

“No.  Not all.  I deny him.  He is not my master.  I heed him not.  Not all heed him either.”

His heart leapt higher.

“I have found that I have some influence over some of the others.  Some have also ignored him.  Some are starting to change.”

“Like you?”

“Not as much but yes.  Like me.”

“How?!  Did someone else cast a Patronus at them?  Did you figure something out?”

Her voice was hesitant, as if unwilling to bear false hope.  Yet there was an undeniable sense of wonder to it, a conviction.  “No one else has.  But I took your words and tested them.  I am able to influence the desires of those weaker than I.  I am able to ignore the commands of certain Wizards and Witches.  I am able to feel a…connection…to some Dementors.”

“Like ours?”

“Similar.  Not exactly the same.  But I can see into their thoughts, see what I think are their memories.  I can feel them.  I believe they can feel me.”

“That’s amazing.”  He felt a stab of guilt.  “I’m sorry, I haven’t really read more of the book and learned more about Dementors.”

“You have had a very busy year,” she said kindly.  “I blame you for nothing.”

He felt a little better.  “I promise, I will.  I’ll read more and if we can figure out how you became what you are now, we can hopefully spread it to the other Dementors.”  And maybe there will be less for me to fight against.

“Then there will be others to support you,” she said, as if she knew what he was thinking.

“Others?” His voice quavered.

“You are not alone Harry.  You have my support.  From now.  To the end.”  

Her head came down, her forehead touched his.  The thick cloth of the Dementor’s hood felt strange against him, like the sensation of cobwebs pulling against bare skin.  The shadows clung to him, saturated him.

He missed the sensation when she drew back.  He missed it more when her hand left his arm.  When her Aura dissipated.  

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“You are welcome.”

Chapter Text

A Dance of Dementors

Chapter 3: Fifth Year, Questions Unanswered

“Harry!  Look out!”

The warning, the burning connection, gave Harry the precious seconds he needed to whip his wand out.  

Before the Dementor could touch him, Harry cast his spell.  His stag Patronus charged out of his wand and barreled the dark creature away.  Antlers formed from pure light impaled the thing and took it far away.

Harry turned, gesturing wildly with his wand.  The stag returned and trampled the Dementor that hovered over Dudley Dursley.  His cousin, a mountain of fat and muscle, had fallen easily to the creature that tried to devour his soul.  The Dementor hissed but was unable to avoid the Patronus and it too was banished.

The boy wizard was furious.  He should have been more careful.  He knew what the Aura felt like.  He should have seen the signs.  Perhaps it was because he was so used to the Aura, that it did not affect him as it used to.  Maybe that was why he and Dudley had walked into the ambush so easily.

He could feel the Aura from these Dementors and he knew he should have felt the difference.  Their Aura was darker, dismal.  It clung and it scraped at his skin.  It was not like hers at all.

He felt intensity behind him, a gathering of dark thought and want.  He turned, knowing he would be too late.

Her Aura was a welcoming feeling, like jumping into a cold pool during a burning hot day.

The enemy Dementor almost reached him, its claws outstretched.  Its maw was hideously wide, wide enough to swallow him whole.

She lashed out, her arm knocked the claws away.  Her other arm grabbed the other Dementor’s head, her palm over where its face should be.  With barely an effort she clenched her hand shut and the Dementor’s head was crushed.  It thrashed in her grip, its efforts growing more feeble before falling supernaturally still.

She flung it away and looked down at Harry.  “Are you okay?!”

“I am, thanks to you.”  He reached out and grabbed her skeletal hand in his.  The burning cold of her skin revitalized him.  “What are you doing here?”

“They were commanded here,” she said waving an arm at the fleeing Dementors.  

“Commanded?  By who?”

“Not by the Wasted One, not the One Returned.”

Harry’s heart went still.  “Then…who would send Dementors after me?”

“I know not.  I saw what they were commanded to do so I waylaid one and came after the others.  I had hoped I was not too late.”

“You weren’t.  Thanks.  You saved my life again.”

“It is only fair.  You gave me mine back.”

He was barely able to keep from blushing.

She looked about.  “Another approaches.  One of your kind.  I must go.  Please be careful Harry.  I will find you when I am able.”

Her forehead touched his and then she was gone.  Despite his, admittedly nearly comatose cousin nearby, despite hearing the footsteps of someone approaching, Harry felt even more alone.

-0-

He shut the book, a little more forcefully than he normally would shut a book.  It closed with a snap and he knew Hermione would have glared at him for treating a book in that way.

If she read what he just did, she would have done the same.

He did not know if his mood was making him more sensitive.  Anyone and everyone would have said it was.  He was almost perpetually angry these days.  A low sense of irritation simmered non-stop in his stomach.  He felt on edge, ready to snap and fight anyone who crossed his path.

Very much like Crookshanks on a bad day, he realized with an unwilling smile.  Except he seemed to be having nothing but bad days.

He liked to think he had every reason to be perpetually upset.  The Daily Prophet was mocking him every day, twice when a special edition was printed.  Most of the school treated him like a mad person, whispering and insulting him whenever he was nearby.  He never thought it would be worse than the reception he got during the tournament last year.

Was it bad that he wished to go back to that time?  For people to think he was a glory hound instead of a liar and an enemy of the Ministry?

Just thinking about the experience at court, a child tried by the entire Wizengamot, made his blood boil.  The hostility from Minister Fudge was expected and still it hurt him.  Percy Weasley, someone he called a friend, his attitude was unexpected and it cut him even deeper.  How the members of the Wizengamot looked at him, like a threat.

Harry felt so very alone.

He knew he was not.  Not really.  The other Weasleys stood by him.  Ron.  Hermione.  Sirius.  The members of the Order of the Phoenix.  They believed him.  However he knew they treated him differently, hid things from him.

Something pulled on him, something chilling and warming.  Something familiar.

Without hesitation Harry rose from his bed and drew his cloak about him, becoming invisible.  Still holding the book, he left his dormitory.  He followed the pulling, his steps getting quicker as he left Gryffindor tower and made his way to the grounds.

He did not remove the cloak until he was hidden by the tree, resting his back against the trunk out of view from the castle.  He did not need Lumos, the moon was full and the grounds were bathed in pale light.  He waited patiently, the pulling in his chest grew stronger and stronger.

His skin crawled slightly, a chill swallowed him from his feet to his head.

He loved the feeling.

He smiled for what seemed like the first time in days.  A shadow slowly gained shape before him.  The moonlight flowed over the form like water on rock, giving it definition, making a shape.  A cowled head appeared; long robes fluttered in the windless night.

“Hi friend,” he said softly.

“Hello Harry.”  Her voice was as chilling and warming as the connection he felt.  Her head tilted slightly.  “You seem unwell.”

He laughed without humor.  “That’s an understatement.  I’ve had a lot going on.”

“You have.”  Her agreement was bittersweet.  “I had hoped this year you would have less to worry about.”

“Me too.”  He looked at her.  Her form was still like a Dementor.  She was tall, elongated compared to a human.  Her robes were long and never ceasing.  A large hood covered her head, the aperture a dark pit of utter blackness.  Her hands were skeletal thin and made the moon look tanned.

Yet, she seemed different.  The robes seemed fuller, less threadbare and frayed.  The grass and leaves around them were not covered in supernatural frost.  The night used to seem threatening when a Dementor was near.  Now it was simply night, no longer promising danger.  

“You look…different.”

“I feel different.”  There was no mistaking the wonder in her voice, the joy.  “I have been able to remember more.  I remember places, other people.  I no longer Hunger all the time.  I can control my wants.  I can…feel.”  

She touched the tree.  The bark did not buckle at her touch.  It did not lose vitality.  “Before I would only ever feel intense cold.  Everything would drain from my touch.  Now I can feel the bark.”  She held her hand up.  “I can feel the air.”

She drew her hood back revealing a human head.  It was the face she had when she went to the Yule Ball with Harry last year.  Her eyes still lacked pupils, her features still painfully thin, her mouth still a bit too wide, but recognizably human.  

“I can maintain this appearance now, without borrowing your magic.  I see this face and it feels familiar.  I know it.”

Harry smiled.  “It’s a good one.  It suits you.”  He blushed at her smile.  “What about the other Dementors?  You mentioned some of the others are changing too.”

Her voice grew excited.  “Yes!  Not quite like me but they are.  Some are showing signs of changing.  They can control their Hunger.  They no longer act only on instinct.  I have felt connections grow between me and them.  I can see past their veils.”

She frowned slightly, her excitement fading.  “Not all however.  Only a few are acting like me, able to see and feel like me.  There are many that do not listen.  They are Hunger in everything.  They do not seem able to be anything else.”

Harry sighed.  “I think I know why.”  He waved the book at her.  “I’ve been reading more and remember we talked about how there were Dementors that were stronger than others?  The book says that there might be two different kinds of Dementors.”

His heart grew heavier.  “The most common kind are the ones that can be found in the wild.  Ones that are born from dark places and areas of dark magic.  These “Primal Dementors” are like the magical creatures people think of.  The want to feed on emotions and positive feelings.

“The stronger ones, the ones that can direct other Dementors and can do more, they are a lot less common.  They look like the Primals so most don’t realize there are two different kinds.  Also…” his voice faded.

“Harry, please tell me.  This sounds very important.”  She floated down to his side.

“The writer keeps calling them…Ritual Dementors.”

He could feel her shock.  Her Aura grew thick and cloying.  Their connection shuddered.

“Ritual Dementors.”  Her voice was barely audible.  “That means…that sounds like…”

“It sounds like they were created,” Harry finished miserably.  

The silence was deafening.  Louder than thunder.  Heavier than earth,

“That is why I am remembering things.  That is why I can feel.  That is why some others are the same.  That is why many are not.”  Her voice shook.  “I was…made?  Someone created me?”

Harry took her hand in his.  He ignored the immense freezing sensation.  He stilled his chattering teeth.  He squeezed her hand as hard as he could.  “I’m so sorry.  I’m not sure but…it really does seem that way.”

Her head turned towards him, her black eyes stared right into him.  “Oh Harry, I am so sorry.”

To say he was surprised was an understatement.  “What?  Why are you apologizing to me?”

“You should not be reading this.  This information…it is terrible.  It will be a burden upon you mind and soul.  I put you in this position.  I should not have.”

He tried to smile encouragingly.  “No, I want to be here.  Really.  I want to help.  It’s only fair, you did save my life a few times.”

She giggled.  “After trying to take it.”

He shrugged.  “Only once or twice.  You saved me more times than you’ve tried to end it.”

Shock ran through the connection and she laughed out loud.  “Oh Harry, please do not be so maudlin, it is unbecoming.”  She squeezed his freezing hand.  “I appreciate all you do.”

“Same,” he replied lamely.

She released his hand.  While the returning warmth was welcome, the absence of her touch was not.  He tried not to look too mournful as she began to float away.

“You have given me much to think about Harry.  Thank you.  I will return to see you soon.  I will put this information to the test.  But please, do take care of yourself.  I would not bear it if I have caused you grief.”

Not for the first time Harry was touched that what most consider one of the darkest foulest creatures genuinely cared about him.  “Honestly, reading this and thinking on how to help is kind of nice.  It’s distracting me from other things.”

“I worry that you find this a more welcoming distraction.”

“You really have no idea.”

-0-

“Harry!”

Her shriek was almost painful to hear.  It was supernaturally loud.  Harry almost looked back at the castle, half expecting them to have heard it.  Yet he knew her shriek was different from the one he heard in his third year.  Back then it was a shriek of rage and Hunger, of a predator hunting their prey.

This shriek was laced with pain.  Pain from seeing something distressing.  Pain born from worry.

The shriek hurt his ears.  The shriek warmed his heart.

“It’s really not that bad,” he lied.

She landed beside him.  Her hands shot out and grabbed his.  He practically moaned in relief.  Normally the incredible coldness from her touch was mildly uncomfortable.  Now it felt amazing, chasing away the burning in his hand.  It felt better than murtlap essence. 

“Not that bad?!”  She glared at him.  “Harry, I can feel the dark magic from your wounds!”

He shivered and it had nothing to do with her or her Aura.  “Dark magic?”

“Yes.  It is foul.  This type of wound is cursed.  It will not heal, not to how it was before.”

Emerald green eyes met obsidian black ones.  He was shocked to see them wet.  Moisture grew at the edges, making her black eyes seem polished.

“Who did this to you?” she asked in a dreadful whisper.

“A new Professor.  This was detention.”

“This is torture!”  Her fingers ran over the back of his hand.  “I…I cannot undo this.  I cannot take the dark away.”

“You can do that?”

“Only minor things.  The dark recognizes the dark and sometimes they will absorb and coalesce.”  She squeezed his hand tighter.  “I will kill them for this.”

This time the shivering was completely because of her, the tone of her voice, the threat.

“I know a lot who would be happy if you did,” he joked.

“I will devour them happily for this.  I will suck them dry to the bone.”  For a brief moment obsidian black became molten red.  “I will send them from this life screaming.”

“I wouldn’t want you to devour her.  She would taste terrible and I couldn’t do that to you.”  Harry was more than a little afraid.  In the past, Dementors were scary because it was their nature to devour feelings and emotions.  It was a part of them, their instinct.  They were like predators that fed because that was what they were.

A Dementor capable of anger, of hate.  A Dementor that wanted to inflict harm.  That was terrifying.

He felt their connection subside.  Rage gave way to exhaustion.  Hate gave way to shame.

“I..I am sorry,” she said softly.  

“You didn’t offend me,” he replied cheekily.

She giggled, almost unwillingly.  “Know that I would do that for you, Harry.  I would.”

“I know.”

The sounds of the lake filled the space between them.  The gentle sounds of the waves seemed to drain her anger, drain his pain.

“I…I am feeling more these days.”  She kept staring down at his hand.  “The more I am…aware of myself.  The more that I remember of my past, the more I feel.  The Hunger has no control over me.  I no longer feed because I must.  I feel.  I think.”

“That’s great!”  Harry was truly happy for her.  For a moment he could forget his own troubles.  “What about the others?”

“You were right.  There is a difference.  When we were ruled by the Hunger, we all seemed the same.  Some deferred to others but it is normal for the weak to follow the strong.  However now, I can feel the difference between us.  The Primals are truly described, primal and almost feral.  The…” her voice stuttered briefly, “the Ritualed…are distinctly different.  They, we, can act different.  We are different.

“I have managed to strengthen the connections to some.  I have been able to dive past their veils, past the blockages in their minds, I can see them and what I think are fragments of their memories.”

“You mentioned that the last time but I forgot to ask.  What do you mean by veils?”

She continued to run her fingers over his scarred hand.  “I have noticed that there are parts of their natures that are blocked, shrouded.  A thick veil separates things.  Keeps things hidden and apart.  Only with time and will can they be pierced or removed.  The things I remember used to be clouded by the veils.  The Hunger was so strong, it blocked any desire to go past them.  You have helped me push them aside.”

“Can, can I help more?  If I can help you go past your veils, maybe you can do it for the others.”

“You would do that?” she whispered.

He suddenly felt shy.  “Of course.  Tell me how I can help.”

“I would need to borrow your magic, draw from our connection.  With your strength, your purity, I think I can remove mine.”  She shook her head.  “You are so hurt though.  Weak.  I could not ask that of you.”

“You don’t have to ask.  I’ll give it to you.  Take what you need.”

He felt her hesitation.

“Please.”

Her hesitation crumbled.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

He felt her draw from him through their connection.  Like when she borrowed his power to transform for the first time, the magic flowed from him.  This time the drawing was intense.  He could feel himself getting weaker, growing more exhausted.

“No, I must stop!” she cried.  The drawing began to lessen.

He gripped her hand harder.  He pushed on the connection.  “No!  Take it!  We’re so close, I can feel it.”  He could.  He thought he could see something blocking them, something shrouding her memories.  It was like a veil, something dark and obscuring.  Yet he could see something peeking through, something growing more distinct.

Finally it broke before Harry did.  For a moment he saw the veil dissolve.  He saw a woman with long grey hair and brown eyes, he saw flowers.  He saw her screaming in agony before his screams joined hers and he collapsed.

He slowly came to.  Her hands felt good on his face.  The cold chased away the splitting headache.  

“Harry!  Please Harry, wake up!  Oh all consuming night, why did I let you do this?  Please wake up.  Harry please.”  Her voice was desperate, filled with anxiety.

“I’m alright,” he said somewhat unconvincingly.  “Really, I’m okay Ryllis.”

Her hands stopped moving, gripping his cheeks.  “What did you call me?”

“Ryllis.”  His eyes popped open fully.  “Where did that come from?  Why did I call you that?”

Their eyes met.

“Ryllis.”  She drew the word out.  Tasting it, breathing it.  “Ryllis.  I know that name.  I remember it.  It is my name.  Mine.”  The smile that appeared on her face was the largest Harry had ever seen.  Her face transformed.  Her skin was still marble pale but it glowed with inner light.  It shone like the moon.  Her hair grew fuller, healthier.  

“Oh, oh I remember.  I remember!  My name!  Ryllis!  Ryllis Asheton!”

Her joy was infectious.  Despite the pain in his head, despite the pain in his hand, Harry shared her joy.  For the first time in days, he was truly happy.  “Incredible!  You did it!  You broke the veil!”

She smiled at him and his heart throbbed.  “No, we did it.  It could not have been done without you.”  Her smile faded slightly.  “Not all the veils are gone.  I cannot remember everything.  But, I remember more.  It will take time to understand but I am starting to feel more like…me.  It is like waking from a long and terrible dream.”

Harry nodded in understanding.  He gently pulled her hands from his face, grinning at her confusion.  He held his hand out to her.  “Hello Ryllis Asheton.  My name’s Harry Potter, it’s nice to finally meet you.”

Her laughter was wild, unleashed, alive.  Her hand felt cool in his, no longer achingly cold.

“Hello Harry Potter.  It is a pleasure to meet you.”

-0-

 He was starting to hate the book.

It did not help that whenever he read it, he was using it as an escape from other things.  It was a poor choice to be fair, to read something dark and depressing whenever he was already feeling bad.  He really should try to pick something else to distract him.

After the Holidays, after seeing Mr Weasley almost die, after being afraid that he was being possessed, after being afraid for Sirius, Harry was exhausted.  It was ironic.  Holidays were meant to be a refresher, an escape from the pains of real life.

If the Holidays were the cure, he did not think he would survive the treatment.

To try and fill his sleepless nights, to try and not dream of fangs and scales, he dived back into Dancers in the Dark.  At first he did not think it would be as bad.  Sure it was still the darkest thing he had ever read.  Sure it was full of disturbing examples of magic.  Sure it described Dementors in meticulous and terrifying detail.  He thought with the breakthrough with Ryllis, he still loved saying her name, it would make things better.

It unfortunately did not.  

He learned more than he ever wanted about Dementors and what they did to their victims.  He hated the idea that some Dementors were created.  Seeing how the Ritual Dementors were stronger than Primals, seeing how Ryllis acted once she reobtained parts of her memories, the description of the veil, it showed something deliberately designed.  Otherwise they would act just like the Primals, like Ryllis did, before she got her memories back.

Before Harry’s Patronus Charm.

He had finished the book and was going through it again.  Wisely the book did not describe any kind of ritual within it.  However it kept making allusions to things, as if something was hidden within the tome.  It was starting to bother him.  He felt like there was something just out of his grasp, on the edge of his understanding.  

One thing that kept appearing was intent.  Obviously, someone intended on making the Ritual Dementors.  They went through some trouble to make the Rituals act like the Primals.  However, if all they wanted was more Primals, why go through the effort to make a ritual in the first place to create Ritual Dementors?  The book even said Primals were easier to control.

Why would anyone want to make something that already existed in nature?

He vowed to figure it out.  He could not help himself out of his current predicament.  He could try to help someone out of theirs.

-0-

“Harry, have you been doing extra reading about History?”

Harry looked up, confused.  “What?”

Hermione smiled.  “Ron was telling me he heard you talk about someone named Ryllis Asheton.  I thought that name sounded awfully familiar so I went to look for it.  Imagine my surprise that the Ashetons were a prominent Wizarding family many years ago.  I’m glad you’re taking O.W.L. studies seriously.”

Harry blushed and glared at Ron.

“You talk in your sleep mate,” Ron said unperturbed.  “You’ve always have.  Not my fault.”

Harry blushed harder.  “Maybe you should be a good friend and ignore it.”

Ron snorted.  “As if.  I was hoping it was some girl that I could take the mickey about.  Given that you and Cho…well…you know.”

Harry did know.  The fallout over Dumbledore’s Army and how Marietta Edgecomb had snitched on them, and how she was Cho Chang’s best friend, had caused their friendship and their “relationship” to collapse.  “No, I mean, I read her name somewhere I guess.  It’s a pretty name.”

Thankfully the other two missed the way he said that last part.

“I’m glad Ron mentioned it though,” Hermione said.  “I did some reading and their family was rather interesting.  Very active in the magical community during the late 1800s and into the 1900s.”

“What happened to them?” Harry asked.

“Unfortunately the family line died.  Something about a rather large scandal and the last remaining heir dying.  Something rather shocking from what I gathered.  Records weren’t too reliable then and apparently the family was punished for something.  Severely too.”

Hermione sighed and shook her head.  “It’s actually not unheard of from what I’ve read.  A family would be suddenly punished for some slight and the family might just disappear.  Or they were ruined to the point where they got absorbed into another family.  Quite barbaric.”

Harry did not say anything.  Instead he felt something cold deep in his being.  Her words clicked with something he had read.

“Did you…find anything about Ryllis Asheton?”  He fought hard to keep his voice from breaking, from showing too much interest.

“Sadly no.  But records from back then are maddeningly incomplete.”  She sniffed with displeasure.  “It’s really irritating.”

He completely agreed.

-0-

“Hi Ryllis!”

He did not think he would get tired of seeing her smile.  Her mouth was still just a bit too large for a regular human’s face.  The lines in her face were just different enough to be unsettling.  It looked like something that was trying to appear human.

There was nothing wrong with her smile.  It grew every time Harry said her name.

“Harry!  I have something to share with you.”

Her form settled beside him.  She looked like she sat on the root of the ancient tree beside him but her form did not quite touch it.

“Harry, I have found some of the names of the other Ritual Dementors.”

His jaw dropped.  “Really?!  How?!”

“I connected with them.  I slowly peeled away their veils like you did mine.  I lack the strength to do what you did for me.  But I know how to tread the path.  It takes longer but I am able to go past the veils with time and perseverance.  I have been able to help a few others break through.  They are like me now.  They remember their faces.  They remember their names!”

“That’s amazing!”

Her solid black eyes seemed to sparkle like stars in the night sky.  “Yes!  They can control themselves now.  They can stave off the Hunger.  They can speak.”  Her hands rested on Harry’s shoulders.  “They are like me.  They vow to ignore the Returned One.  They will not heed him.  They will follow me.  Follow you.”

His heart soared.  “This is the best news I’ve had in a really long time.”

“I am glad to give it to you.  I promised you before Harry.  You are not alone.  We are not many.  Nor can we stop the Primals from heeding the Dark One.  But you will never be alone.”

He wanted to cry.  He felt her sincerity, her care.  “Thank you,” he said huskily.

“You are welcome.”  Her head tilted and her eyes narrowed.  “Harry…are you well?  Have you been punished by the Pink Evil?”

He laughed.  The title Ryllis used was hilarious.  And appropriate.  “A little, had to write lines again with the damn quill.  But it barely did anything to me this time.  Why?”

Her concern was palpable.  “I feel something within you, clinging to you.  It is dark, much like the cursed wounds.  But different.  With our stronger connection, I can feel something there.”

He shook his head.  “Oh, well, I bet it’s just that I’m tired.  O.W.L.s are coming up and I’ve been trying to figure something out in the book.  Probably just that.  Tests are pretty evil too.”  He could tell she was not convinced.

“Very well.  Perhaps it is best we do not meet again until after your tests are finished.  I do not wish for you to fail them on my account.  They are important for your future.”

“I’m not too worried about my future.  It’s a little hard to see one given everything,” he said.

Her hands gripped his face and he was forced to look at her.

“Do NOT say that!  You will have a future.  A bright one.  A better one.  You will survive and you will overcome.” 

Her conviction burned him.  “How-how can you know?” he sputtered.  

“Because you have done the impossible.  You have returned me to me.  You have changed what all before you thought was a force of nature.  You have given me hope.  I will not let you lose yours.”  Tears ran down her cheeks, like rain on a statue.     

Do Dementors cry?

No, not Dementors.  Ryllis cries.

“I’m sorry for making you cry,” he said.

Her lips touched his forehead.  It grew wet from her tears.

“I cry for you because I want to.  Not because you force me to.”

-0-

Harry was afraid.

How did everything go completely and terribly wrong?

He knew the answer to that.  He knew why.  He just did not want to admit it.

He and Neville Longbottom were running.  The Department of Mysteries was a literal maze.  He had no idea where they were, no idea where they were going.  All he knew was he had his wand in one hand, his prophecy in the other, and Death Eaters coming to get him.

He already had seen some of the Death Eaters fall.  Fall from the hazards in the Department and from the curses, hexes, and jinxes from him and his friends.  He had seen his friends get hurt, hurt from the Department and the Death Eaters.

Hurt because of him.

Hurt because he was tricked into coming to the Department to get the prophecy.  

Hurt from his arrogance.  His negligence.

Now he and Neville stood against the wall, wands out and facing a Death Eater and a Dementor.  Somehow the Death Eater seemed immune to the cold draining Aura of the Dementor.

Harry, used to the Aura, still felt the effects.  However, he was doing better than poor Neville.  The other boy was shaking from nerves and fear, trying to form a Patronus Shield.  A faint silver mist appeared but it did nothing against the Aura, much less the Dementor.

“Give me the prophecy, Potter,” the Death Eater snarled.

“Come and get it,” Harry spat back, trying to sound more confident than he felt.

“No, I won’t.  Not yet anyways.”  The Death Eater gestured at the boys.  “Dementor!  Go!  Kiss them.  The Dark Lord will forgive me as long as I get the prophecy.”

Harry looked at the floating dark creature.  He tried to bring up a happy memory, something to fuel his Patronus.  He saw a smile, a smile that grew when he said her name.  He opened his mouth to incant.

The Dementor swooped down and grabbed the Death Eater by the throat.  It flew straight at the wall, slamming the dark wizard hard against the stone.  It flew the opposite direction, slamming him into the other wall.  The Eater fell boneless from the Dementor’s hands, completely senseless.

Harry was astonished.  “Ryllis?” he asked.  The Aura did not feel like hers, but it was definitely less threatening than he first thought.  He realized the Dementor was controlling it as it faded to a lower severity.

The Dementor floated before Harry.  The hood fell away to reveal a young man’s face.  Much like Ryllis, the features were not quite human.  However the eyes were a pale brown, a shock of auburn hair framed a rounder face.  The smile was sharp but kind.

“No, but I came for her.”  His voice was like Ryllis’ when she first started to speak.  It echoed, the words overlapped.  There was no mistaking the warmth, the mischief.  “And for you.  She fights for you elsewhere, her and the others.  The minions of the Returned wished to bring more of the Primals but we prevented that.  I infiltrated.”

He looked to the side, pointed at a door.  “Come Dawnbringer.  This is the way to safety.  I will take you.”

“What did you call me?”

“Dawnbringer.  You take away the veils, you draw us from the nightmares of the dark.”  Brown eyes twinkled.  “You bid us wake.  You help us remember.  You bring the Dawn.”

Harry was well past astonishment now.  “No wait.  I need you to find my friends.  There are four others: a boy with red hair and three girls with blonde, red, and brown hair.  Two of them are really hurt.  Please, help them.  Me and Neville can make it out now.”

The Dementor smiled.  “As noble as she says you are.  She said you would say that.  Very well.  Please hurry.  Ryllis will be very upset if you are hurt.”  He began to fly to another door.

“Wait!” Harry called.  “What is your name?”

The smile threatened to split the round face in half.  “Xander!  My name is Xander!  It is mine!”  With a piercing howl, Xander flew through the door.

“What, what’s going on?” Neville gasped.

“I’ll explain later,” Harry said and ran towards the door Xander had pointed at. 

-0-

He felt her arms wrap around him and he surrendered himself to her cold embrace.

It would never be as cold as the pit inside his heart.

The tears on his face froze, long trails of frost ran from his eyes down to his chin.  His skin felt like a sheet of ice.  His limbs barely twitched, numb and thick.

And still his heart felt colder.

He could feel her tremble, feel her body shake.  Her arms wrapped around him from behind, drawing him into her ragged form.  Tiny drops of water fell onto his head, like sleet in sharpness and consistency.  

It did not bother him.

“I am so sorry,” she said.  Her voice was hollow, broken.  “I feel your anguish.  I feel your loss.  Forgive me.”

“Forgive you?”  His voice was gravel falling on stone.  “For what?”

“If I was faster, if I could have changed more Ritual Dementors, we could have helped more.  We could have prevented the loss.”

He shook his head.  “From what I heard, there were so many Dementors.  If you and the others didn’t help us, if Xander didn’t protect my friends, we would have lost more.  It wasn’t your fault.  You did all you could.”

She sighed.  “Perhaps.  The Wasted One has a way with the Primals.  He can command them like no other.  There were so many that night.  I lost one of the ones like me.”

His head turned aghast.  “What?  A Dementor…died?  A Ritual one?”

She nodded sadly.  “Yes.  His name was Yarrow.  He was torn apart by many Primals though he destroyed many in the process.  He…laughed as he did.”

“Do…what happens when a Ritual Dementor dies?”

“I do not know.  I believe…now that we are reobtaining our memories, becoming something different than a true Dementor, we lose some of our resiliency.  Primals can be destroyed.  You have seen me eliminate them before.  But the Ritual ones always were tougher, harder to banish.  It seems there is a trade for power.  Memory for fragility.”

The tears grew again in his eyes.  “I don’t want anyone to die because of me anymore.  I don’t want you to die because of me.”

“No Harry.  Yarrow did not die because of you.  He died for you.  Willingly.  He was overjoyed to remember.  He wept when he remembered his name.  He went to his end without remorse.”

“I don’t want people to die for me either!  I want them with me.  I don’t want them to be like Sirius.  Like my parents.” He sobbed brokenly.

“I understand.”  She held him close.  “Harry, you did all you could as well.”

He started to struggle, to protest but she squeezed her arms lightly, stopping him.

“You went in because you loved your godfather.  You led your friends in and out.  You revealed the Wasted One to the world.  You foiled him.  You survived.  You cannot save everyone, Harry.  But you saved who you could.”

He wanted to argue with her.  Sirius had died because he ignored his Occulmency.  He died because Harry had allowed himself to be tricked.  

“I’m so tired,” he said instead.  “I’m tired of fighting.  I’m tired of losing people.”

“I know.  Remember that your burdens are not solely your own.  There are those that are willing to bear them with you.”

His eyes grew heavy.  “Really?”  His voice sounded younger than he was, uncertain and hesitant.

“You need only ask.”

He grew sleepier.  “Will…will you help me?”

“Always.”

Chapter Text

A Dance of Dementors

Chapter 4: Sixth Year, Darkest Before the Dawn

“Harry?  Why did you stop, we must keep going.”

Harry looked at Dumbledore, thinking.  A part of him was ecstatic to be away from Privet Drive, to be spending the rest of the summer at the Burrow, to be with the Headmaster on an important task.

However, he had spent the first few weeks of the summer at the Dursley’s thinking.  He knew full well that he was responsible for fighting Voldemort.  All the events leading up to this point, events that started before his birth, the prophecy, were proof of it.  Not only was fighting Voldemort his responsibility, it was his duty.  He wanted to do it.

It was not the only thing he wanted to do.

He had thought long and hard about Dancers in the Dark, about Ryllis, about what he could do for her.  He knew that there were some things he could not learn on his own, information he needed, and at first he did not know how to obtain it.

Dumbledore’s letter gave him an idea.  Being here on a recruiting mission to get Professor Slughorn gave him an opportunity.

Thinking about Ryllis gave him strength.

“Sir, it’s important for us to bring Slughorn to Hogwarts?”

“Professor Slughorn, well soon to be professor, but yes.  Very important.”

“And you believe that I am needed to do it?”

Dumbledore stopped and turned to him, his attention fully on Harry.  While the older man’s eyes did not narrow, the customary twinkle was absent.  He looked at Harry with calm consideration.  “Harry, I must admit I find myself suspicious of your questioning.”

Harry kept his face as blank as possible.  “Do you remember what you said to me before the summer Sir?  About you being more honest with me?”

“Yes, I do.”

“That you promised to help me for the task ahead, that you will do your best to aid me?”

“Yes.”

“I haven’t asked you for much in the past, right Professor?”

Despite the statement, Dumbledore smiled.  “Correct.  You are remarkably selfless Harry, and far from greedy.

“Then, I would like some information Sir.  Information that I believe you can get that I can’t.”

“For what purpose Harry?”

“To help someone, to help people who need it.”

“Are you the only one that can help them?  Surely there are others that can help them.”

“No Sir, there aren’t.  I’m the only one that can.”  Harry saw the hesitation in Dumbledore’s face.  “Much like I’m the only one that can help you now.”

Dumbledore snorted.  A deep and unrefined sound.  “Dear me Harry, that was positively twisted of you.”

A small smile appeared on the young man’s face.  “Really?  I was only making an allusion, Sir.  To show how similar my situation was to yours.”

The Headmaster waggled a finger but the gesture was marred by a wry smile.  “So you are saying you will not assist me if I do not assist you.”

Harry tried to look innocent.  “I didn’t say that at all Sir.  I just wanted to point out that I am willing to help you, I just need some help myself.”

“Perhaps all these years spent at the Burrow have taught you too much.  I see a likeness between you and Fred and George Weasley right now.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“I’m sure they would as well.”  Dumbledore sighed.  “What if I were to offer to assist you in your matter?”

“I think you have more than enough going on Sir.  I just need a little information.  I can promise you that it really is to help people.  People who haven’t had any kind of help in a really long time.  People…that I think have suffered too much.”

The Headmaster was silent for a long moment.  “As I said, you are remarkably selfless Harry.  I have your oath that the information is only to help another?”

“Many others, yes Sir.  And…it may very well help us against Voldemort.”

“Why did you not say that sooner Harry?”

“Because, I didn’t want you getting too involved, not yet.  I don’t know if it will help us, but it might.”

“Don’t you trust me Harry?”

I used to without question.  I still do, just, more slowly.  “As much as you trust me Sir.”

At first Harry thought he misspoke.  He could not catch all the expressions that rapidly changed on the older wizard’s face.  His heart finally resumed beating when Dumbledore smiled.

“Well, that’s good to hear.  I trust you very much Harry.  Tell me what you need, and on my honor as your Headmaster, I will try to obtain it for you.”

-0-

“I like this place, it feels warm.”

Harry grinned at Ryllis.  “I think so too.  It feels like a home doesn’t it?”

Aside from when she came to rescue Harry in Surrey, this was the first time he met the not quite-Dementor not quite-human away from Hogwarts.  It had felt right to see her when he was at the school.  It was where they met and had gotten to know each other after all.  There they helped peel away the veils that had clouded her mind.  They had helped her regain her humanity. There they had started to learn the terrible truth about some Dementors.

Perhaps that was why it was especially nice to see her here at the Burrow.  Here Harry felt completely and utterly safe.  Everyone in the Burrow liked him.  They wanted him there.  He could relax and just be himself, to be with people he liked and loved.

A real home with a real family.

Ryllis weaved her way around the orchard, barely touching the apple trees.  Her presence did not change them like it did in the past.  Her Aura was much reduced, barely noticeable.  By now Harry liked her Aura.  It was still a cold sensation, like a chill wind that never left you.  It comforted him however.  Underneath the chill there was a warmth, a feeling of care.  It felt like her.

“I can feel their love for you,” she said softly.  She looked at the Weasley home almost longingly.  “I can tell they truly care for you.”  She smiled at him.  “And you for them.  It is a wonderful home Harry.  You deserve it.”

He was glad it was the middle of the night.  So many convenient shadows to hide his red face.  “Thanks.  Do you remember a home like that?”  

Her face turned wistful.  “I do.  At least, I think I do.  I can remember feeling loved.  I cannot see faces attached to the love.  Not yet.  But I know now it is love, it is care.  I have had it before.”

“How do you know?”

She looked back at him.  “It is like how I feel for you.  It is like how you feel for your friends and ones you call family.”

He was definitely happy for the night and the shadows.

“So, uh, I have good news.”  Her delight was infectious and he felt their connection tingle.  “I managed to convince Dumbledore to help me.”

“Oh wonderful!”  She looked confused.  “How is he going to help?  Did you tell him of the book and the ritual?”

“No and I have a feeling that if I did, he would be a lot less helpful.  He’s really strict about dark magic.  No, I actually got the idea from Hermione.  Dumbledore is the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot.  As the Chief, he has access to records that most people can’t get.”

“That does sound useful.  I do not see how it helps us if you can forgive my ignorance.”

“Well, Hermione said the records of the Asheton family disappear after a certain point.  So he is going to try and find as much as he can for me. Also….” Harry’s voice trailed off and he gulped.  “We know that the ritual that…created you, well I mean, there’s a ritual.  If there’s a ritual, it had to have been created for a purpose.  A purpose besides making different Dementors.”  He lapsed into silence, clearly uncomfortable.  

Ryllis floated to his side and held his scarred hand in hers.  “You do not have to continue Harry.  I never want to cause you distress.”

Her touch was ice cold.  Her touch gave him strength.

“No I want to, it’s just, kinda hard to say out loud.  In the book, they hint that the ritual was…a punishment.”

Shock ran down their connection.  “Punishment?”

“Yeah.  A punishment for…something.”

It was her turn to fall silent.  “Did…did I…did I deserve this?” she asked in a broken whisper.

“No!”  Harry shouted and did not care if he woke anyone.  He pulled her down to him so he could look her in the eye.  “I refuse to believe that!  No one deserves to be made into a Dementor.  Nothing you could ever do would excuse this.”

“You do not know,” she replied in that same broken voice.  “What if I was a bad person?  What if I committed a crime that warranted such a sentence?  No, perhaps it is best if we did not continue.”  She tried to let go of his hand.

He clung to her even tighter.  “I do know!  Well, I mean, I don’t know who you were before but I know who you are now.  You saved my life.  More than once.  You helped save Dudley.  You are trying to help others that are in the same position that you are.  Those aren’t the actions of a bad person.”

Her black eyes looked wet.  “But what if?  What if I was as terrible as I think?”

“What if you’re as good as I think you are?” Harry replied.  “When we learn more, we can cross that bridge when we get to it.  But I really believe that, no matter what you did, you don’t deserve being a Dementor.  I really believe it.”

“I know,” she whispered.  “I can feel it.  Thank you Harry.”

“You are welcome.”

She giggled.  She drifted closer and hugged him.  “I only saved Dudley because you were there Harry.”

“It still counts.”

They stood like that for long moments, resting against each other.  When she tried to release him, he hugged her harder.

“Harry,” she giggled, “you should go inside.  It is late and you are cold.”

“No I’m not,” he said insincerely, fully aware of his misting breath.

She kissed his forehead and slowly dissolved, leaving Harry empty armed.

“That’s cheating,” he grumbled.

She laughed.  “Be careful Harry.  I will see you when you return to Hogwarts.”

He sighed dolefully and began to walk back to the Burrow.

“Oh, and Harry?”

He paused.  “Yes Ryllis?”

“Thank you, for everything.”

He did not reply, feeling her Aura disappear completely.  He resumed walking back to the house, his steps just a little bit lighter.

-0-

“I just don’t get it.”  Harry tried to keep the complaint from his voice and was mostly successful.  

“I never thought you to be someone that complains so,” Ryllis said.  Her smile lessened the sting in her words.

“That’s not fair,” Harry whined.  His smile was as broad as hers when she laughed.  “I mean, I don’t understand why I’m learning about Voldemort’s past.  Dumbledore said it would be important, and I’m sure it will, but it doesn’t mean I get it right now.”

“The past can teach us patterns, lessons that lay the foundations for the future.”  Ryllis shook a skeletal finger at Harry when he snorted.  “Honestly, history is important, Harry.”

“I have yet to use anything I learned or didn’t learn from Professor Binns,” Harry replied tartly.

“Well, that is merely one example.  History is rather large in depth and breadth.  In fact I can think of you actively researching history.”

“Oh yeah, go ahead if you think you’re so smart.”  He groaned as she pointed at the scrolls he brought to the lake’s edge.  “Okay, maybe you’re smart.”

“I am much older than you Harry.”

“You don’t look it,” he muttered.  His face went crimson when he realized what he said.

The fact that her marble pale skin was slightly dusky was his only saving grace.

“I mean, age doesn’t mean wisdom.”

“Youth does not mean ignorance either,” she replied easily.  “You are testament to that.”

I wonder if a person can blush so hard they pass out.  

“Yeah, Hermione is better though.”

“Do not sell yourself short Harry.  Do not be so dismissive of your own achievements.”  She picked up one of the scrolls.  “Few would be as successful as you to get these records.”

Harry preened a little.  While he did negotiate a deal with Dumbledore, not extort him as Hermione said scandalized when he told her, it did not mean he would get what he wanted.  Like he told Ryllis, he knew full well that any mention of Dancers in the Dark or any questions regarding Dementors or dark rituals at all would have stopped any sort of assistance.

While he did make a quip about not realizing Harry was interested in a History of Magic N.E.W.T.S., Dumbledore did what he promised and provided Harry with records of the Asheton family as well as general records from that time period.  He did look a little surprised when Harry asked about prison records and examples of punishments from the Ministry at the time, but had thankfully given Harry the information without question.

Unfortunately, the records have been a little lackluster.  They were not complete by any sense of the word, frequently hopping back and forth between subject matter.  It seemed like early historians and record keepers lumped anything remotely related together, no matter how thin the connection.  

Harry was especially disappointed that he could not find any mentions of a Ryllis Asheton.

Surprisingly, Ryllis had not been as discouraged.  She had been happy to learn of the ancient Asheton family.  She spent a lot of time trying to see if she remembered more things after reading an external account.  While her recollections were almost as patchy as the records, she had cheerfully continued to read and meditate.  

It was not all bad news.  In the records, Harry found family names that the other Ritual Dementors had.  When they were told of their last names, the Ritual Dementors obtained even more of their past memories.  

He felt good that he was helping them.  He still believed that no matter what the people did in the past, they did not deserve to be Dementors.  At the very least, did not deserve to remain as Dementors.

He and Ryllis had another argument about whether or not if they should try to learn about the ritual.  Perhaps the Ritual Dementors should remain as they are.  She tried to argue that with his help, they were already more than just a Dementor.  They had limited autonomy; they were no longer controlled by the Hunger.  

He argued that the fact that the Ritual Dementors were changing back, or at least changing from being just a stronger Dementor, showed that the process was flawed.  That it was not natural.  If it was created, it could have been used incorrectly.  They had to figure out the why if for no other reason to prevent it from happening again.  He admitted that they did not know if they could fully reverse the ritual, that they did not know what would happen if they did.  They owed it to the future to make sure that it would not happen again.

She stopped arguing when he asked her how she would feel if someone used the ritual on him.

She was furious when he said that.  For a moment her Aura returned in full and he had laid there completely drained and chilled to the core.  She said that she would leave him like that for some time to teach him a lesson.

His attempts to point out that her sense of humor returning was another sign that the ritual was flawed were completely ignored.

-0-

“Is this another thing that you ’do not get’?”

Harry smiled sourly at Ryllis.

“No I get it, they’re the ones that don’t get it.”

“You must forgive your friends.  They are young after all.”

“Oi!  What does that make me?  They’re both older than me!”

“You’re very mature for your age Harry.”

Harry sighed deeply, trying to ignore Ryllis’ giggling and failing.  He felt that this time might be the time that broke Hermione and Ron.  They had their arguments throughout the years, times where tensions were too high between them.  

He had told Ron that he was out of line for treating Hermione so poorly.  That he was rubbing his new relationship with Lavender in her face.  That he was being a git.

He had told Hermione that she was out of line for attacking Ron with the conjured canaries.  That her trying to use Cormac McClaggen as revenge to make Ron feel bad was helping no one.

They both had stubbornly told him to keep his opinions to himself.

He had fled the tower and came to talk to Ryllis instead.

“They should just be honest with each other,” he complained.

“Love is complicated.  It makes fools of anyone.  It takes time and experience to learn how to deal with it.”

“More wisdom brought from your age?” Harry teased.

“Yes, and experience of course,” she replied evenly.  Her face twisted with mischief.  “You are not immune to love my friend.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied swiftly, looking anywhere but at her.

“I am a Dementor Harry, I can feel emotion.  Even without our connection I can tell.  Who is that girl?  The one you play Quidditch with?”

“I thought you promised you wouldn’t look at my thoughts!”

She laughed, the sound echoing.  It was bright and warm.  “I did not!  However, I do feel what you feel when you think of her.  You are far too easy to tease sometimes.”

Harry looked directly at Ryllis.  He thought of the first time he saw her smile, the times when she came to rescue him, the way she said his name.  He pushed his feelings into the connection between them.  “What about now?”

She blushed, her skin seemed to glow.  “Oh Harry, there is love, and then there is love.”

Before he could reply he gasped.  The connection between them pulsated, it felt alive.  He resisted the urge to grab his chest.  Usually, the connection was more of what she felt from him.  It was how he knew when she was near.  Before he could feel the slightest hints of her emotion, the barest suggestion.

This time he felt it in full.  He felt fully and completely.  He had absolutely no reservation about what she was experiencing at that moment.

He wanted to say something, anything, but no words came forth.  Instead he looked sheepish.  He looked shy.  He looked thankful.

She settled beside him.  Her arms wrapped around him.

They sat and looked up at the night sky, unspeaking but feeling.  

-0-

“Harry, are you alright?”

Harry was slumped back in his chair.  He was not alright.  He was overwhelmed.

He and Dumbledore had finally seen the untainted memory from Slughorn. They had finally learned the dreadful truth, the secret to Voldemort’s magical resilience.  

Horcruxes.

Voldemort had split his soul and placed it within an object.  As long as he had his soul hidden away and safe, he could not completely die.  He would always still exist and can always try to come back.

Not just one, but six.

The task before him seemed insurmountable, impossible.  The fact that two of the horcruxes had already been destroyed kept Harry from falling to panicked hysteria.  How was he supposed to fight the greatest dark wizard, one that had so many fail safe options, with a power that Voldemort knew not?

How could he fight with love?

Love.

Harry felt the connection tingle ever so slightly.

He sat up.

“Harry, what is wrong?”  Dumbledore looked concerned.  At first Harry looked crestfallen to the older wizard, an expression well warranted given the situation.  Then it seemed like something clicked in Harry’s mind and he looked even more alert.  He looked like someone making an important connection.

“Sir, with each time you saw Voldemort, he looked different right?  He looked less human, like in your last memory when he visited the school and tried to be the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor.”

“Yes, that is correct.”

“So, by that point, he probably had made some horcruxes.   And in doing so, he looked less human.  Like he kept losing features.”

“That’s an astute observation.  Most thought that he wanted to make such dramatic cosmetic changes to suit his mystique, but perhaps he was forced to as a consequence in splitting his soul.”

“Do you think it’s possible that, whatever he did to split his soul and make horcruxes, could it be forced on someone?”

Dumbledore’s eyes grew hard.  “I would have you explain yourself Harry.  Do you mean to say someone forced Voldemort to make them?”

Harry shook his head.  “No, it’s obvious Voldemort wanted to make horcruxes.  He intended to do it.  He did it to himself and willingly broke his soul, so you could say he chose what parts of himself he lost.”

“Yes…that is a logical assumption.”

“What if someone forced someone else’s soul to break?  What if someone had changed against their will, that they didn’t intend to do that?  If their soul was broken against their wishes, they wouldn’t be able to choose what they lost.”

“Following your earlier reasoning, that would make sense.”  Dumbledore looked at Harry.  “Harry, does this have something to do with you asking for the records from the past?”

He did not deny it.  He was beyond trying to hide everything.  He was so close to something, he knew it.  “Sir, to the best of your knowledge, are there rituals that punish people?  Punish criminals?”

The man was silent.  He very slowly, very unwillingly nodded.

“Rituals that were used a long time ago.  Ones that…shouldn’t have been?”

Another slow, painful, nod.  “When I was elected as Chief Warlock, I did my best to stop certain practices.  I also tried to ensure that they would never be used again.”  Dumbledore’s whisper barely carried.

Harry wanted to cry.  “What if…what if Voldemort learned of a ritual and changed it to suit his needs?”

Dumbledore cried.  Tears fell down his cheeks.  

“I think…I think you’re right though Sir.”  Harry swallowed.  “I think, love, is something in my favor.  I really think it’s something Voldemort cannot deal with.  We know that because he stopped possessing me last year when I thought about Sirius.”  It was still hard to say his name.

“But I think, no, I know you’re right Sir.  He is incapable of love.  The presence of it hurts him.  And it’s not only his arrogance, but a consequence of how he made the horcruxes.”

“How?  How do you know?”  Dumbledore looked at Harry in a new light.  “My dear boy, how can you be so sure?”

Harry touched his chest.  He felt the connection warm deep inside him.  “I can’t tell you now Sir, but trust me when I say I do.”

Tears still streamed down his face but Dumbledore smiled.  “My boy, I already told you.  I trust you, more than you know.”

-0-

“He is far more evil than I could have thought.”  Ryllis shivered.  “I have never heard of a horcrux before, but the description is monstrous.  And for someone to willingly make them so many times?  It beggars belief.”

She looked at Harry, gratefulness and pain in equal measure in her gaze.  “I am beyond worried about you Harry.  What you have to do, it is unreasonable.  You have done so much.  You have experienced too much.  You have accepted responsibility to fight yet you continue to aid me, to aid the Ritual Dementors.  It is too much, even for you.”

He shook his head.  “No, I want to do it, both to stop Voldemort and to help you.  He took everything from me, hurt so many people.  You’re like me, you had everything taken from you too.  More than that.  At least I can remember my whole life.  It’s not fair what you’ve gone through too.

“Plus, learning about Dementors and your situation has helped me too.  It makes sense that what Voldemort did to make horcruxes was probably similar to what was done to you.  The main difference is he willingly did it.  He intended on breaking his soul.  You didn’t.  That’s why you can’t remember things.  It’ll help us figure out how to reverse the ritual.”

Her smile chased away the pain in her eyes.  “How did you figure that out?  I am sure only you could have, not even your very clever friend could have.”

Harry looked down at the ground.  He pushed on their connection while thinking about Ryllis.

“Oh!”  Her voice was full of surprise and even embarrassment.

He trembled as he felt the connection push back on him, filled with what he put into it, filled form a different source.

“This just proves what was done to you was wrong,” Harry said.  “You’re not a monster.  If you were, you couldn’t feel like this.  There’s proof of it now.”

“People change Harry.”

“Some people change for the better Ryllis.”

“How can you be so kind after all you have gone through?”  

“I have good examples to follow I guess.”  He coughed awkwardly.  “I have to go, Dumbledore said he thinks he’s close to finding a horcrux.  I want to be ready to help him.”

“Harry, please be careful.  I worry for you.”

He tried to smile convincingly.  “I won’t be alone.  Don’t worry, I’ll ask him for help if I need it.  And you of course.”

-0-

“Where are we going Harry?” Ron asked as he followed his friend.  “Shouldn’t we be getting ready to leave?”

Harry kept walking.  He felt like if he stopped now he would completely break down.  Ever since waking he kept playing yesterday’s events over and over in his mind.  If he stopped to think, his thoughts would overwhelm him.  Even while moving he felt like he would crumble beneath the pressure.

Dumbledore, the Headmaster, the one that helped Harry all these years, was dead.  He had died at the hand of someone he trusted.

Someone Dumbledore trusted.  Harry had never trusted Severus Snape.

With Dumbledore gone, everything seemed much more bleak.  The wizard that Voldemort feared, the one that had stopped Voldemort from succeeding during the first war, the one person that kept the dark wizard in check, was gone.  With him gone, what chance did Harry and the Order have?

Harry knew he had to go on.  Dumbledore’s mission was now his mission.   If Harry could do it, then Voldemort could be stopped.

If he could do it.  

Harry knew he was not nearly the wizard Dumbledore was.  He did not have the strength.  He did not have the resources.  He lacked the experience, the knowledge.

He was alone.

Harry stopped; a thought rose to the top of his mind.

Ron ran into his back.  Hermione almost ran into both of them.  “Blimey Harry,” Ron said.  “What is going on?  Talk to us!’

“We want to help you, Harry,” Hermione said.  “We know Dumbledore had something in store for you, we’re going to go with you.  We’re going to help you.  You’re not alone.”

Ron and Hermione were unprepared for Harry’s look of determination.  

“I know that,” Harry said quietly, resolutely.  “I have you two with me, and I can’t thank you enough.  Follow me.”  He started walking again, his steps more sure.  He walked with a destination now.  “Also, we’re not alone in this either.”

“What do you mean?” Hermione asked exasperated.  “Where are we going?”

Harry did not answer.  He led them towards where the Black Lake met the Forbidden Forest.

“It’s so frustrating when he doesn’t explain himself,” Hermione said.

“Now you know how it feels when you do it,” Ron replied.

-0-

“It’s okay!” Harry yelled.

Ron yelled and Hermione shrieked when they appeared.  

Five hooded figures approached from deep within the forest, floating forward slowly towards the trio.  Their Aura was heavy, it dragged on the two wizards and the witch.  

“Dementors!” Ron cried out, bringing his wand up.  “Harry, what do you mean it’s okay?!  They’re going to Kiss us and steal our souls!”

“No they won’t, not these Dementors,” Harry said.  “Lower your wand Ron, trust me mate.”

“Harry, is that…”  Hermione clung to Harry’s arm, her eyes wide and staring at the Dementor in front.  “Is that the one that saved you?  Is she the one that came to the ball?”

“Saved you?  What do you mean by that?  And what do you mean by the one that came to the ball?!” Ron asked, utterly confused.

“Ron, Hermione, this is Ryllis Asheton.  She’s a friend.  She’s not like the other Dementors.  She won’t hurt us.  Neither will any of the others.”

Slowly the five forms slid into the sunlight.  Thin wasted hands came up to pull back ragged hoods, revealing almost natural faces.

Ryllis smiled at them.  “It is a pleasure to finally meet you properly.  Harry has told me much of you.  I am proud to call him a friend.  You have nothing to fear from us.”

“Oh you were right Ryllis!”  The shortest and smallest form had incredibly large eyes that were as blue as the sky.  “The Dawnbringer feels warm!  It’s nice to be near him.”  He floated to Harry, child-like.  “My name is Leo!  That’s my name!”

Harry felt his heart twist.  Leo looked like a child and he hated what that meant.  He tried to keep the pain from showing on his face.  He could feel Ryllis feel the pain he felt, he felt her pain too.  “It’s nice to meet you Leo.  You may call me Harry though.”

“Why would we?  Dawnbringer is an amazing name.”  Xander grinned.  His attention shifted and his brown eyes smoldered.  “Oh, hello pretty girl!” he said to a suddenly blushing Hermione.

Ron glared at the Dementor.  “What did you say to her?”

“I said, hello pretty girl.  Did you not hear me?  Do people no longer compliment each other these days?”  

“Pipe down whelp,” the oldest looking Dementor said.  His face was heavily lined, his figure slightly stooped.  His grey eyes looked annoyed.  “I think you did us no favors helping this one remember Dawnbringer.”  He jerked a thumb at the grinning Xander.  “This one is annoying.”

The last Dementor giggled.  Her face was thinner than Ryllis’, youthful.  “The irritable one is Syus.  My name is Belle.  Thank you Dawnbringer for helping us, all of us.  I forgot how nice it was to remember things.  To not be hungry all the time.”

“I’ll explain everything later,” Harry whispered to the gobsmacked Ron and Hermione.

He turned to the Dementors.  “Do you know?”

They nodded sadly.

“The One Returned is gleeful,” Syus said.  “We can feel his call.  He is no longer hiding his presence.  The Primals flock to him.”

“We do not!” Leo declared proudly.  “We ignore him.  We listen to Ryllis.  We listen to you!”

“Not just us either,” Xander said.  “There are others.  Not as far along as us, but there are others.  You are not alone, Dawnbringer.”

Harry did not quite smile, but he felt his lips feel less tight.  “Thank you.”  His eyes met the eyes of the Dementors one by one before landing on Ryllis.  “Someone told me that people will help me.”

“She sounds very wise,” Ryllis said softly.

“Wisdom independent of age,” Harry agreed and he almost smiled at her laugh.  “I…won’t be back next year.”

Her laughter faded.  “I know,” she said sadly.  “You set off to accomplish your task?”

He nodded.

“It is not fair.  It is too much.”

“Maybe.  But it has to be done.”

“And it will be done.  We are with you Harry.  I am with you.”

After a few moments Hermione drew Ron away, shushing his protests and starting to explain her comment about the ball.  The other four Dementors flitted back into the woods, leaving Harry and Ryllis standing alone.

“I’m scared,” Harry admitted out loud.  

She wrapped him in her arms.  “I know.  I am scared as well.”

“You are?”  His arms pulled her closer.  

“Of course.  I fear for you Harry.  I am terrified of what you must do.  I still intend on you living a long full life.  I worry over the path to it.”

The tears he kept bottled up began to spill.  “What if I can’t do it?”

“You will.  You have done amazing things.  You have defeated Voldemort already as a babe.  You have fought year after year, surviving his plots and machinations.  You have withstood Dementors at their hungriest.  You have given hope to the hopeless.  You have saved us.  You are capable of beating the Wasted One again.”

“I only beat him the first time with my mom’s love.”

“And you will defeat him this time with her love.  And the love of others.”

 He could feel his heartbeat.  He could feel the connection beat in tandem with it.

Chapter Text

A Dance of Dementors

Chapter 5: Seventh Year, To the Very End

Harry felt he was always on the edge these days.

He figured he could be forgiven for it, a lot has happened lately. In a few weeks' time he had lost Dumbledore, been betrayed by someone that he thought was on his side, decided to not return to the first place he felt at home, accepted a dangerous mission to destroy the horcruxes so they could have a chance at beating Voldemort, and barely survived the latest attempt on his life.

While he survived another died for him, because of him. A close friend was maimed because of him, for him.

All in all, it had been quite stressful.

After days of cleaning and organizing for a wedding, trying to sneak in moments of planning with Hermione and Ron, doing his best to placate a stressed and suspicious Mrs Weasley, he felt like he was studying for his O.W.L.s again. His body was a constant ache of stress, fatigue, and extreme pressure.

He almost wished it was just studying for tests again. Even something as normal as a wedding felt incredibly odd given what else was going on. He would not begrudge Mrs Weasley, Bill, or Fleur their need for it however. In extreme times, people grasped for normalcy. It was nice to celebrate love and union despite the environment of uncertainty.

He just wished he could really immerse himself in the feeling. He wanted to feel wholly excited for them. He wanted to forget his troubles for just a little while.

His many, many troubles.

For a moment he thought he could avoid them, but that thought was dashed to pieces when Hermione approached him. He ignored his first reaction to try and avoid her, to cite some sudden errand or to say he was not feeling well.

His behavior during fifth year came screaming back to him and he firmly dispelled that first reaction.

"Hi," he said, trying to muster up a smile. It was more of an exhausted grimace.

She looked like she felt the same. "Hi Harry," she replied, handing him a leather-bound book and a piece of folded parchment.

"What's this?" He accepted the book and parchment. It looked and felt very old. The edges were frayed, almost decaying. The binding was loose. A cord held the book shut, looking newer than the book did. It had a feeling of neglect to it, a feeling of something that was hidden away for a very long time. It radiated shame. The parchment was much newer, a small thing folded in half.

"Before we left Hogwarts, I was able to summon a few books from Dumbledore's office as you know. This was buried among them. I remembered thinking it was odd at the time because it didn't look related to the books I…borrowed. I just thought about this book and tried to open it but I couldn't. When I did the string glowed and a note appeared."

Intrigued, he opened the note. As he read his eyes grew wet. Without a word he handed the note back to Hermione.

"Harry, I found this right before I discovered the location of the cave. It had been hidden deep in the personal Chief Warlock records under considerable charms. I hope to go over this with you when we have the time. In the case that cannot come to be, I wanted to make this available to you.

"I hope this will help you and the people you want to help. Normally I would be in considerable trouble by sharing this outside of the Wizengamot. That being said, I feel that your quest is a noble one and you deserve the aid.

"I trust you Harry.

"Sincerely, Albus Dumbledore."

Hermione's voice had broken while she read the note out loud, her voice shaky and trembling. Tears ran down her face but she did not stop reading.

He reached out and took her hand in his. They sat together in silence, staring at the note and the book.

"It must have been one of the last things he did for you," she whispered. "Before you two left for the horcrux."

"The fake horcrux," Harry said bitterly. He tried not to think about the false object sitting in his bag upstairs. The thing they sacrificed so much to get. The thing that cost them so much.

Hermione squeezed his hand. "Are you going to open the book?"

Harry thought for a moment before shaking his head. "Not right now. I have a feeling it's going to make for terrible reading."

-0-

He had no idea how right he was.

It was a few weeks later when Harry found the energy to open the book. Energy was not quite the right word. Motivation for distraction would be more correct.

The wedding had happened right after the pair discovered Dumbledore's last note. It was beautiful and for a brief moment, Harry felt peace. They felt hope. That life could happen despite the current state of affairs.

Then Kingsley Shacklebolt's lynx Patronus appeared. He warned them that the Ministry had fallen. Voldemort had killed Rufus Scrimgeour. His forces were coming. Coming to get Harry.

He had wanted to stay and fight of course. Guests fled in a panic while Death Eaters had invaded. Members of the Order fought back. Lupin had forced Harry away with Ron and Hermione.

The trio had almost been caught before they could Apparate away. A Death Eater had almost grabbed Harry's arm.

A ghostly figure with a lined face had suddenly appeared. He had tackled the Death Eater, long skeletal hands dragged the figure away. How the Dementor had appeared so swiftly Harry did not know but he was immensely thankful.

The trio had found their way to Grimmauld Place, once headquarters for the Order, now Harry's property. It was even more depressing than they remembered it to be. When it was actively used, when Sirius lived there, it had pockets of life among the cobwebs of neglect. Places where the shadows did not look so menacing, where the dark was not so oppressive.

After being there for a week, after Kreacher the house elf's miraculous change in behavior, Grimmauld Place was slowly living down its namesake, being less grim.

So of course Harry decided now would be the perfect time to read what he assumed would be a thoroughly depressing book.

He was going mad with inaction. The three had come up with a plan. They knew Delores Umbridge, may her name be forever cursed, had taken the true horcrux. Regulus Black, Sirius' brother, had been a Death Eater but had stolen Slytherin's locket, a horcrux Voldemort had made. He had Kreacher bring it back to destroy it.

Unfortunately before Kreacher could, Mundungus Fletcher had stolen it to sell. To avoid prison and punishment, he had given it to Umbridge.

For the last few days the trio had started their plan to infiltrate the Ministry. The watched and observed. They discussed potential ways to do things, back up plans, reactions to possible actions. It was a tedious, long, slow, and necessary process.

Harry had gotten tired of staring at maps. He was tired of planning.

That was how he found himself sitting in Sirius' room staring at the book. That feeling of shame had never gone away. If anything, the feeling was amplified every time he thought about it. It had been hidden away, never to be seen nor found by anyone that was not the Chief Warlock. It felt like it was a terrible secret that someone had desperately tried to hide forever.

With a heavy heart, Harry undid the cord holding the cover shut and began to read.

-0-

He sat and waited, rubbing his hand together to stave away the chill.

He knew it was not the chill of the night air getting to him. After spending many nights outside, after spending so much time in a Dementor's Aura, regular cold temperature did not bother him as much as it used to.

The chill was from the book, the Hidden Ledger.

Somehow, it made him feel worse than any part of Dancers in the Dark.

It was not a very long book. It took him barely any time at all to finish it. However its contents had made him stew over it for hours. He had thought for more than a day how to process the information, how to make sense of it.

Now he sat in the tiny garden behind Grimmauld Place and he waited. Part of him wanted to never mention this information to anyone. The other part of him knew at least one person if not everyone needed to know it all.

He pulled on the connection inside his chest. This was the first time he actively did that. Usually he felt it being pulled or manipulated by the one he was connected to. He had learned how to pour his feelings into the connection. Now he was trying to tug on it, to summon the one on the other end.

Finally he felt her. Her Aura was faint, incredibly light like a feather on snow. He would have missed it if he was not so familiar with it.

"Ryllis?" He tried to keep his voice quiet, barely more than a whisper.

"Harry, thank goodness you are well."

Though he could not see her, he could just feel her presence. It surprised him how much he missed her, how much he wanted to feel her ice-cold touch. He wanted to look into her flat obsidian eyes. He wanted to see her smile.

"I'm alright. Are you okay? I can't see you?"

"I have to diminish my presence to come here. It is not safe to come to you. The Wasted One, he has become suspicious. He is questioning why some of the Dementors do exactly as he commanded and why some are hesitant."

His heart throbbed with worry. "Are you in danger? Are the others?"

"No, not yet. We have been able to hide among the Primals, to throw off most attention. We must be cautious though, to wait for when we can do the most. If we are caught, we cannot help you anymore."

"That makes sense." He felt a kernel of disappointment simmer inside. He knew he really wanted to see Ryllis. He underestimated just how much he wanted to, how much he needed to.

"I…have to tell you something, Ryllis. It's not going to be easy to hear it though."

He felt her presence wrap around him, envelop him. It was not quite a hug, but it was close.

"Dumbledore left me a book. Something called the Hidden Ledger. It was buried deep within the Chief Warlock's personal archives. It's…not good."

He told her that it was an account of Families that had been completely lost, of magical bloodlines that had could not be continued. It listed the names of the last known members of the families and even detailed how the people have died or the reasoning why the families were no longer around.

There was one section that had stood out to Harry. At first they did not seem to share anything in common. The people detailed were all different ages, and came from different periods of time. Some were members of prestigious families, some were not.

He finally realized why they were grouped together. They all shared the same cause of death. They all had said: sanctioned via ritual by the Ministry for crime broken. The writer had notated the crime that the individual had caused. However, the crimes listed seemed oddly unreasonable, nothing that he would consider punishable with a ritual.

Then it clicked. A ritual. The people were punished by a ritual. The Ledger made no mention of what kind of ritual. Just like how the ritual in Dancers in the Dark was not explicitly described.

He read the names of the individuals again and when he understood what he was reading, he had vomited everything he had eaten in days.

The longer he talked, the more exhausted he became. The more he told her, the stronger that feeling of disgust grew. He had long past cared that he was crying, he no longer tried to stem the rain.

Her Aura had shaken as he spoke, it seemed to change like the tide. It turned from cloying clinging warmth, to frigid fright, to wild outrage, to palpable grief.

The connection between them felt small and thread-bare.

He did not know how long they sat there without speaking after he finished. He knew she was in pain. He wanted nothing more than to embrace her, to support her as she did for him in times past. He pushed as much of his love and care into their connection as he could. He waited.

"So, it is true then. We were made, made by the Ministry. We were created because of our crimes."

"I don't buy that though," Harry said. "There is nothing in those crimes that could possibly deserve being turned into a Dementor."

"Did the Ledger say what our crimes were?"

"Yes and no. It said what law was broken but not what the law was. Grimmauld Place has a library and they have old law books. I'm going to search them and get to the bottom of this."

"Harry, take care of yourself first. You are more important. Do not waste your energy on…criminals."

"You're not a criminal," he said firmly. "Even if you were, there are limits to punishments. The punishment should fit the crime and once you have served the time, you should be released. That's how it should work.

"Besides, this ritual is monstrous. It was still forced on you. That's why you have troubles with your memories. You were shattered against your consent, against your intention. You can't even remember your full name. It's not fair."

"No, it is not, but perhaps it was just."

He hated how defeated she sounded. He hated how she felt that the situation was appropriate.

He hated it because he knew he had felt that way in the past. He knew he sounded that way before.

He would not let her feel the same. Not after all she had suffered. Not after all she had done for him.

"I'm not saying it was. I'm saying now, it's long overdue. I will free you Ryllis. I will free all the Ritual Dementors."

"Harry, there are more important things to worry about."

"No. There are equally important things to worry about. I will not abandon you. Don't tell me to, I won't."

She cried softly. Her Aura enveloped him.

"How? How can you care so much after all you have had done to you? How can you be so kind after all you have lost?"

He imagined he was holding her hand. "That's easy. I followed your example."

-0-

"Harry! Come on, we can't stop!"

Harry ignored Ron. He went running down the corridor.

"Why is he running towards the ruddy Dementors?" Ron cried. "Dammit, Harry!"

"Belle!" Harry yelled. "What are you doing?"

The trio had infiltrated the Ministry according to some semblance of a plan. Despite the odds, they had managed to sneak in undetected and taken the horcrux back. In doing so they had revealed themselves and were currently running out of the courtrooms with a horde of Dementors following them.

Harry had been about to summon his Patronus when a howling Dementor had flown past the trio, slamming against their pursuers. It struck them bodily, splitting the wave of dark creatures buying them time to escape.

He almost did escape, grateful for the interference. He knew a Ritual Dementor had come to save them, he could feel how different their Aura was. What made him stop was what he felt in the Aura. He felt something different, something besides the customary supernatural chill a Dementor usually brought. It was a desperation, a sense of intense loss, a lack of self-preservation.

That had made him stop and turn back.

"Belle! Stop!"

The Dementor turned to face Harry. The ragged shreds of dark essence dripped from her skeletal hands. Her eyes were wide and wild, her mouth curled into a feral snarl. "Dawnbringer, you must go. I will hold them off."

The Primals had fled from the Ritual Dementor, her fury had broken them. Her rage had blunted their Hunger.

"Belle, you don't feel right. Look, they stopped, you've got to go too. Hurry!"

She shook her head. "No, I will stay and ensure they cannot follow you. I will prevent their pursuit. Give you as much time as I can."

"You'll die!"

She laughed. It was a cold and manic laugh, one born of intense loss. It was a laugh Harry had heard before. A laugh from someone he loved and had watched die before his eyes.

"Many will die before I do. I give my existence willingly to you, Dawnbringer."

"NO!"

The walls shook from his shout. Hermione and Ron skidded to a stop behind him, buffeted by the intensity of his magic. Even Belle seemed shaken. His single shouted command quenched her bare anger. It woke something in her.

"Dawnbringer?" she said in a quiet terrified voice. "I…I am here to help you. I give myself for you. It is only just. It is what I deserve. What you deserve."

Harry was furious. "I said no. You will not throw yourself away for me. None of you will! You tell Ryllis that I forbid you all from dying for or because of me like this until I talk to her again. Do you understand?"

Belle's face held fear. It was plain that a Dementor did not feel fear often.

Harry hated that he was the reason for it.

She nodded. "I swear. I will tell her." She looked back down the corridor. "I will scatter them and flee myself. Please, run Dawnbringer. We cannot lose you." The Dementor flew away, leaving the three behind.

"Harry?" Hermione's voice shook.

"Let's go," Harry said.

-0-

Hermione was shaking in her seat.

She knew it was for many reasons. Camping in the winter, even with a magical tent, meant things were always cold. No matter how big of a fire they have, no matter all the hot water they drank, the air was simply frigid. It permeated their beings, going through all the layers of their clothes.

Their nerves were another reason. On the run from Voldemort and his Death Eaters was necessary and unpleasant. The Charms they cast around the tent every day helped but they always looked over their shoulders. It felt like someone was always watching, waiting for them to make a mistake.

The horcrux was definitely a detriment. It was a foul thing and whenever she touched it, it made her feel even worse. Besides making her feel bad it made her want others to feel bad, to spread misery. Not wearing it did not spare her either. The horcrux made Harry sarcastic and caustic, made him bottle his thoughts and feelings up until they exploded. The horcrux made Ron…

She sniffled. Ron had left them. She knew the horcrux had affected him terribly. It made him think awful things, made him worry so much over his family. It prompted him to say even worse things, to lash out non-stop at her and Harry. It had finally come to a head and Ron had left them, left her.

He wanted her to come with him.

She could not.

Ron's absence had cast a pall over her and Harry. It made things more bleak, more depressing. Empty.

Finally, if Hermione had to fully list out what was causing her to shiver and shake, if she had to describe everything that was making her feel chilled, it was Ryllis floating inside the tent. That was not completely fair. Hermione would never feel completely comfortable around the Dementor. The Aura had gotten less invasive like Harry said. She had gotten used to it somewhat. She even found Ryllis to be kind, a good person. So Ryllis herself was not why Hermione felt so uncomfortable.

It was more the way Ryllis and Harry were glaring at each other right now.

The tension between them was incredible. She imagined she could see it, coiled tightly. Waiting for something to make it snap.

She wanted to run away from it. To give Harry and Ryllis some privacy. Yet she knew if she did, something even more terrible would happen.

"You do not command me, Dawnbringer!" Ryllis said. Her features were severe, as sharp as a knife.

"Since when do you call me that?" Harry asked. He was hurt at how she threw the title at him, at how distant she was acting. He had pulled on the connection for days, ever since they came to this new place after Ron had left. He called and tugged and pulled, pouring his need to see her into the connection.

She had finally come. She looked very upset at him when she revealed herself.

He felt the same way to be honest.

Her face twisted slightly, a moue of shame fighting its way past her severity. "The Harry I know would not command others, to turn them to his will."

"And the Ryllis I know wouldn't tell the others to die because of me."

"For you."

"No, because of me." He let the scene replay in his mind and grew angrier. "She was ready to die because of me. She was going to stay and fight until she was gone, long after we escaped. That isn't for me. I don't want people to die because of me."

"This is war Harry. There will be casualties. You cannot save everyone."

"How can I save people that don't want to be saved?!"

Ryllis' eyes narrowed. "Explain yourself."

"You told them what I told you. That they were criminals and were being punished by the Ministry."

"Yes."

"So they think they deserve to be Dementors then. They deserve to die as Dementors?"

"Yes."

"No! I looked up the laws it said that they broke. They are absurd! One was punished for speaking out against the Ministry. Another was punished because they did not want to sign into a marriage contract. Most of the crimes are barely crimes!"

Ryllis looked away. Her form shuddered. "We were still punished by the governing authority. Why do we feel like we deserve it if it were not true?"

"I'll be anything that it's a part of the ritual they did to you. They broke you! They shattered your soul into pieces and chose a piece to make into a Dementor. They took away your memories, your feelings. They put veils in to separate the pieces and make you something not human. That's not right!"

Harry fought back a sob. "They took your names, your true names. The names you remember are fragments of your names, like your memories, your souls. Names have power. They took that power from you."

He knew what he was saying had some truth to it. He had discussed it with Hermione and she agreed. He could see that Ryllis agreed with him, at least in some part since she was not protesting.

He decided to press the point in deeper. "Are you trying to tell me that Leo, who looks and sounds like a child, younger than when you met me, deserves this?" He ignored the looks of horror from Ryllis and Hermione. "History shows that there were plenty of people who did bad things to others because they could get away with it. You might have committed a crime, but was it a real crime?"

He did not fight back his tears. "I promised I would help you. I promised to get to the bottom of things. I want to save all of you. I need to. But for me to save you, you have to want to be saved. You have to think you can be saved. Magic is intent. You have to mean it. You have to really want it."

"Like you?" Ryllis' whisper cut to the bone.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, confused.

"I see you. You work yourself to the bone. You sacrifice yourself time and again. You said it yourself. You must save us. What about you?"

"What about me?" He thought he knew what she was getting at. He started to get angry.

"Are you trying to save yourself?"

Hermione bit her lip. It was a question she had desperately wanted to ask for a long time.

"What do you mean." Harry did not ask the question this time. He said it flatly.

"You throw yourself in without any concern over yourself. You put no care towards your own wellbeing. You are only concerned for others."

"You think I want this?" He was getting very upset now. "I told you about the prophecy, I am the only one that can do this."

"I know that!" Ryllis' fire was relit. "Of course you are the only one that can do this, but have you thought about what will happen if you fall?"

"Others can carry on! If I do enough before then others can finish it."

"I am pleased to hear you prepare for that possibility." Her words dripped with scorn. "Have you thought about what you will do after? After you succeed?" Her words turned harsh as she interrupted him. "Of course not! Do not lie to me Harry. I know you have not thought about it at all!"

"There's no guarantee that I'll succeed! What's the point of planning for a future that might not come!" His temper flared and for a moment the tent felt hot.

"And what is the point of planning for victory if you will not benefit from it!" Her voice became a shriek.

"ENOUGH!"

Ryllis and Harry turned, their eyes wide. Hermione had risen from her chair, tears flowed down her face. Her chest heaved.

"Don't you both see? You're the same. You care so much about each other that you forget about yourselves. You're both saying the same things around each other."

She looked at the Dementor, meeting her eyes fully for the first time. "I read over the Ledger and parts of Dancers. I agree with Harry. What was done to you and the others, it's beyond monstrous. It's beyond cruel. You were subjected to something terrible and the crimes that were listed, they don't warrant that kind of punishment. Even if you did, you've been a Dementor for centuries. For more than lifetimes. You've long since paid your debt.

"I want to free you too. Not because you had something heinous done to you, but because of what you have done since you started to remember. You saved Harry's life, many times. You and the others have saved mine, saved our friends. That's not something any true criminal would do. You have to believe yourselves worth saving, worth redeeming. If you don't, then nothing we do will free you. You can't throw yourselves away for nothing. Dying for Harry isn't redemption, it's punishment."

She turned and looked at Harry. "Ryllis is right. You save others at the cost of yourself. You stood up to things you shouldn't have had to, much less did so alone. You've been hurt over and over again. I hear you when you have nightmares. I know when you are pushing your thoughts of yourself away. You think you are being noble but you're punishing yourself too. You're punishing yourself because someone else marked you as their equal. That's not fair either."

She gulped. "Every time you say you don't know if you'll survive, every time you refuse to imagine yourself in the future, I die a little Harry. A part of me dies. Because you do deserve to have a future. Ryllis sees it. I see it. Others see it. If you don't believe in yourself," her voice broke completely and she sobbed, "then why are we doing this? If you don't think you're worth a future, then maybe we're not worth saving at all either."

The locket around Harry's neck burned. It twisted and smoldered, as if touching Harry was painful to itself. He yanked it off his neck and threw it on the table where it writhed, hissing and whimpering.

Ryllis floated to the sobbing girl and wrapped her arms around her. If Hermione was bothered by the Aura, by the Dementor's touch, she gave no sign of it. She leaned into Ryllis, wailing.

Harry wrapped his arms around both of them and Hermione melted between them. She shook and cried, and slowly her tears stopped when the girl fell asleep. Harry and Ryllis held her for long moments before carrying her to a bed, tucking her in gently.

They held hands, looking down at the sleeping witch. For the first time in weeks Hermione slept peacefully.

"I'm sorry," Harry whispered to her. To Ryllis.

"I am as well," Ryllis replied.

Hermione's snores filled the air.

"I swear to you Harry. I will not try to sacrifice myself for naught. I will believe myself worthy of redemption. Because it is clear others believe I am deserving of it. I will tell the others. We will not spend our lives so freely."

"I promise Ryllis that I will believe in myself like you and Hermione believe in me. This has to end because it is right. I will still do whatever it takes, but I will think about what comes after. I'll aim for an after. I have to. For her. For you. For my Parents and their friends."

"And for you."

"And for me."

-0-

Harry could feel the pulling again.

He looked around at the ghostly King's Cross Train station. He knew it was fake, not the real place. For one it was a lot cleaner than the real King's Cross. It was a lot quieter. It was a lot calmer.

Still, it was nice to have spent some time here. No shouting, no screaming. There were no spells being cast, no terrible creatures. No silver masks. No bodies. No dead friends.

No pain.

He and Dumbledore had spoken for some time. Discussing Dumbledore's past. Discussing how Harry had been the last accidental horcrux. How Voldemort in his haste and arrogance, and supreme ignorance, had eliminated his own horcrux. Voldemort had killed Harry as well as saved his like.

One day Harry would find that funny but it was still too soon.

The young wizard remembered when Ryllis had mentioned feeling something dark on Harry, something different from the scars on his hand caused by the blood quill. Even back then there was the barest of hints.

Thinking of her made the connection pull harder on him.

As if in response to the pulling the scene shifted slightly. Flowers bloomed around them. Flowers of vibrant red and pure white. They smelled sweet, felt familiar.

"Ah, now these are rather lovely," Dumbledore remarked as he bent down to touch a white flower. "Beautiful."

"They are." Harry lifted a red bloom in his hands. He had seen these flowers before, when a veil was lifted. He smiled. "They're called Amaryllis. I like them very much."

Dumbledore smiled knowingly. "Another reason to go back then? To enjoy the flowers?"

"Yes, another thing to make right."

The train began to sound.

"Is this all real?" Harry asked as he began to fade. "Or is it all just happening inside my head."

Dumbledore smiled one last time. "Of course it's happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?"

-0-

"I have won! Harry Potter is dead!"

Shouts of pain and grief greeted Voldemort's words and he reveled in them. He could hear their pain. He could feel their despair. He could taste their anguish.

He savored every moment.

"I am the greatest Wizard of all time. I have killed all my enemies. Let me ask you, are you my enemies too? Must I waste valuable magical blood in a foolish display of rebellion?"

The survivors of the Battle of Hogwarts jeered at him. They shouted their defiance. Though tears were in their eyes, though many wept bitterly seeing the body of Harry lying in Rubeus Hagrid's arms, they desired to fight on. To defy Voldemort. To stand against him to the very end.

"Very well," Voldemort said with insincere regret. "To regrow the forest, one must burn the stubborn remnants." He held up an arm and pointed at the waiting floating Dementors. "However, it will be swift for you. You have defied me for too long. You must pay the price."

He pointed at the survivors. "Go, feed on them."

"No."

Every eye looked up in astonishment.

Ryllis had let her hood fall back and she floated right above Voldemort. Other Ritual Dementors dropped their hoods, showing themselves to all. The Primals looked nervous, their still cowled heads moved with agitation. They wanted to heed Voldemort but the strength of the Ritual Dementors held them back.

"You dare?!" Voldemort was beside himself with fury.

Ryllis was wholly unimpressed. "I dare. We do not listen to you. You are the Broken by your own hand. We who have been Shattered by others will not listen to you. Not now."

He laughed. The tone was less sure of itself. It doubted.

She laughed. It was heartening, inspiring.

He tried to exert his will on her, on any of the Dementors without hoods. He felt his magic pull on them. He saw them remain resolute.

"What are you?" he whispered. Fear clawed at him, fear of something unknown, fear of something outside his control.

"We are the Shattered. We are the Redeemed!" Ryllis' voice grew in volume, in emotion. She rose high into the air and she threw her hands wide. "We woke from sleep to greet the rising sun!"

The sun broke from behind the clouds. Rays of golden light fell on the broken ground below. She was framed by one, brilliant, terrifying.

Ryllis felt the connection shine brighter than the light around her. She felt her love magnified. She screamed in joy. "For the Dawnbringer! To the end! For redemption and the future!"

The Ritual Dementors flew into action. Some hurled themselves at the Primals, ripping and tear them into shreds that dissolved in the sunlight. Others howled as they flew at the Death Eaters and Snatchers. Claws carved into flesh, tearing masks from faces, breaking wands.

Ryllis flew at one of the last remaining Giants. She howled in fury, her mouth opened wide, her claws outstretched. She dodged the giant's clumsy swing and flew into its face. The giant screamed with pain and fear, grabbing at its face. Its screams were soon silenced as it fell over, its face a bloody ruin.

With Voldemort and his forces in disarray, Harry leapt from Hagrid's arms. His wand flashed as he hurled jinxes and curses at Voldemort's followers. He pushed his love into his connection as he fought harder than he had ever fought before.

"Dawnbringer!" The Ritual Dementors cried out as they fought. "For the bringer of light and memory!"

"For Harry!" Ryllis screamed over all.

-0-

Harry slowly limped down the grounds, away from the castle, away from the battle.

He was exhausted. Every part of him ached. He knew that if he stopped, he would fall over. He had to keep going though. He still had one thing to do, one last task to make right.

Luna Lovegood had been so kind to create a diversion for him. With her distraction he was able to slip away from the well-wishers, from his friends, from those he called family. While he loved them all, he needed to do this next part alone.

Not completely alone really.

He had an escort with him, four spectral forms accompanied him down to where the forest met the water, somewhere he had found solace in during his most turbulent times. It seemed only right to end things there.

He stopped and looked up at the four that floated around him. His sigh was deep, a deep feeling of loss filled him. "Is that all of you left?" he whispered. "No more?"

The oldest of them shook his scarred face. "This is it. Everyone else fell." Syus placed a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Do not despair lad. None threw themselves away without care. We knew what was at stake. We did it willingly. To save others, as you have saved us."

Harry nodded. The ones he saw during that final battle, none had that look of lost composure as they fought. None had that reckless abandonment on their faces. All had fought with looks of intense concentration and conviction. Before they dissolved away completely all looked content, satisfied.

"I haven't saved you, not yet." Harry gripped the Elder Wand in his hand. "I will though."

"How do you know it will work?" Belle looked concerned. "I thought one needed the counter curse or counter ritual to undo the original magic."

"Normally yes," Harry admitted. "But, this is the strongest wand in history. This will give me the power I need to overcome the old magic." He pointed at each of them. "The belief you each have in your redemption, in your forgiveness, will be the fuel for the spell." He touched his chest. "My desire to right a wrong, to free you, will give me the means to accomplish it."

Harry held up the Ledger. "Your true names will give you power too. They were forcibly taken. I will forcibly give it back. This will work, I'm sure of it. I believe in it."

Ryllis smiled. "We believe in you Harry."

"Will…will it hurt?" Leo asked. His eyes shone in the sunlight.

Harry shook his head. "No, it won't. It'll be like what happened to me. It'll be easier than," his voice hitched, "falling asleep."

They fell silent.

Syus coughed. "Start with me lad. Let the others see. I will be the first to try, and if something goes wrong, then you will know what to do for them."

Harry straightened. He opened the Ledger and pointed the wand at Syus. "It won't go wrong."

The old Dementor smiled. "I believe you lad."

Harry took a deep breath. "Alonsyus Graves. I return your name and your freedom. Finite."

The Dementor changed. His robes turned a deep purple, no longer frayed and ragged. His shoulders straightened, his spine uncurled. Like a flag that had found the wind, Alonsyus unfurled. His face was still scarred but it glowed. Pupils appeared in his once flat grey eyes and he laughed, a warm bright sound.

"Magic bless you lad!" He threw his arms wide and he laughed and laughed. "From now to the end of time! For you and your family forever!"

He exploded in sparks and well after his body disappeared his laughter rang in the air.

"Oh! That looks like fun! Me next!" Leo looked up expectantly at Harry, his featureless blue eyes were excited.

Harry gulped before speaking strongly. "Leonard Fawcett. I return you name and your freedom. Finite."

The Dementor shrank even more. The robes fell away, revealing an outfit of red and white. Pupils appeared in his sky-blue eyes and he froze. For one terrible moment Harry thought something went wrong.

"Mama! Papa!" Leonard jumped up and down. "Oh thank you Dawnbringer! Thank you!"

Even as he was disappearing, Leonard wrapped his arms around Harry before he dissolved into golden sparks.

Harry was crying now. He looked towards Ryllis but another approached.

"I think I should be next," Belle said with the softest knowing smile.

Harry did not even try to hide his relief.

"Annabelle Winters. I return your name and your freedom. Finite."

The sound of horses filled the air. The wind blew and swirled and the dingey grey robes became forest green. Brown eyes sparkled and the girl who was a Dementor sang.

"I feel warm! I feel the wind! Magic be with you always Dawnbringer!"

And then there were two.

Harry dropped his gaze. The Ledger fell from his hands. He threw the wand down. He sobbed without trying to stop.

Her arms pulled him to her. He pressed his face against the frayed robes and cried.

"If you ask of me, I will not go. I will stay with you."

His heart broke.

"You would?" he whispered.

"I would. I promised you Harry. I will do what you need. Always."

"I want you to stay with me," he admitted. He felt terrible saying the selfish words out loud. He felt freer having finally said what he wanted.

"I need you to be free."

Without looking he bent and picked up the Elder Wand. He left the Ledger on the ground. He knew what her name was, her true name.

Her hands came to his cheeks and she gently pulled his face up. Emerald green stared into obsidian black.

"I will find them. I will find Remus and Tonks. I will find Sirius. I will find James and Lily. I will tell them stories of your bravery, your kindness, your love." He cried harder with every word she said. "Then, when you finally come after many many years, I will be there. I will want to hear every memory you have made. I will want to know everything."

She kissed each cheek. "Promise me Harry. Live long. Live well. Bring me many stories to tell."

"I won't break a promise to you," he replied brokenly.

"Good." Her face was slick with tears. "Do not worry Harry. Much like the others, I will never completely leave you." The connection between them burned hotter than it ever had before. "A part of me will always be with you."

"Really?"

"I have never, nor will ever, break a promise to you Harry."

He knew if he did not do it now, he would never do it ever. He would always find a reason not to. She would never force him to. He had to do it now, while he still had the courage to do it.

"Am…amar…" he stifled a body-wracking sob. "Amaryllis Asheton. I return your name and your freedom. F…F…FINITE."

She glowed white. Her robes lost all darkness and she was dressed in purest white, brighter than the moon, brilliant like freshly fallen snow. Her hair fell in waves of shining grey. Her black eyes sparkled and she smiled in relief even as she wept.

He clung to her and she to him, and he had to close his eyes against the dazzling light.

"Harry." Already her voice was starting to fade.

"Amaryllis!"

"They were both selfish," she said.

"What? What were?" He gripped her tighter.

"Both reasons. I saved you to help the others and to save your soul, not for you. I did it for me."

Her lips pressed into his forehead, they seared his skin and froze his flesh. Then they were gone.

"Amaryllis?"

"Amaryllis?!"

He searched deep in his chest, grasping for their connection. He searched wildly. He pressed his hands against his chest to find it.

It was there. It was silent.

Harry screamed.

He gave his pain a voice. He gave his despair sound. He screamed to let the world know that it was cruel. He screamed to fill the void inside of him.

He screamed until he could scream no more.

He fell to his knees. His body shook. He was so tired.

He felt alone.

He did not know how much time had passed but he suddenly felt something inside of him. It stirred ever so slightly. It broke through his grief. He hoped for a moment that it meant what he thought it did.

"Harry?"

He did not have the energy to turn. It was not her voice. He hated himself for thinking it would be her. However, it was a voice he craved, one he cared for.

Ginny's hand fell on his shoulder. "Harry, are you okay?"

He turned; his eyes worryingly lifeless. He looked at Ginny's concerned face, at Ron and Hermione looking at him with the same look of concern. He looked at all three of them and he felt his heart beat sluggishly.

The connection throbbed again.

"No, no I'm not," he said in a hoarse voice. "But…I will be."

Chapter Text

A Dance of Dementors

Chapter 6: Years Later, After the Very End

Harry was afraid.

That was not a new occurrence. There were plenty of times where he felt fear before. The Aura of Dementors, dealing with Voldemort time and again, the troll, a whole host of reasons. He has been afraid for himself, afraid for others. He was on a first name basis with Fear.

This was a new kind of fear and he absolutely hated it.

Not for the first time, he felt completely and utterly powerless. He literally could do nothing in this moment and he hated it with an intensity that eclipsed anything else he had hated ever before. Even during the War, even trying to figure out how to help the Ritual Dementors, even running for his life, he never felt like this. Before he could always do something, anything, no matter how futile or inconsequential it seemed. All he could do now was wait.

Wait and pace.

He only paced for a few more steps before a hand fell on his shoulder. He did not flinch, he thankfully had outgrown that reaction to unexpected touch. Most of the time anyways.

“Have a seat son, before you drive yourself completely mad,” Arthur said kindly.

Harry loved how his belly squirmed when Arthur called him son. He did not think he would ever get tired of it. He let his father-in-law guide him to a chair and he sat with a grunt.

“Thattaboy,” Arthur said encouragingly. “You really have nothing to worry about. Trust me, I should know.”

Molly snorted. Ever since arriving she and Arthur had been islands of calm in the sea of Harry’s anxiety. She sat comfortably in a chair, knitting. “As if you had to do anything hard at the time,” she said to her smiling husband.

She turned her eyes to Harry and smiled warmly. “He is right though. We are in the perfect place, she’s getting the best care and attention. Relax dear, you’re not doing yourself any favors fretting.”

Harry grinned weakly. “It’s hard, being the first time, you know. Not that I don’t appreciate your sentiment.”

Arthur chuckled. “You have even less to worry about son. No Healer would ever want to be known as the one that failed the Boy-Who-Lived. That’ll make them work all the harder.”

“Arthur Weasley!” Molly flicked the end of her knitting at him, catching him in the stomach. “How dare you joke about such things! For shame you silly man.”

Arthur rubbed his stomach. “All in good faith dear. Besides, it seemed to do the trick,” he said, nodding at Harry.

The grin on Harry’s face was full now and he did feel a little better. He really did appreciate Molly and Arthur being there and their advice. They would know after all. It did not dispel all of his feelings but it certainly helped.

It was true. St Mungo’s Healers had taken Ginny back as soon as Harry and Ginny arrived. They were calm and kind and seemed perfectly professional. His brain knew anyways. His gut demanded that he oversee everything despite knowing nothing about Advanced Healing and the like.

The door opened and a green robed witch walked out, peeling off a mask. Harry felt a stab of anxiety go through his heart, immediately bracing himself for the worst. The Healer’s smile was genuine, her happiness apparent. “Good news! Everything went splendidly and they’re resting now. We’ve already moved them to their room. Come along, I’ll take you to them.”

Harry restrained himself from running past her. He felt immense relief and an aching need to see Ginny. Arthur and Molly followed him at a slightly more sedate pace but you could see they were relieved as well, and incredibly excited.

Harry opened the door and a pillow flew at him, just missing and smacking into the wall.

“I blame you for this Harry Potter,” Ginny said hoarsely. She tried to grab something else to throw. “You did this to me!”

Arthur chuckled while Molly clucked, shaking her head. Harry blushed, his face growing redder as the Healer and the Medi-witch and Medi-wizard laughed outright.

“There’s a reason we wait for the patient to be discharged before giving their wand back,” the Healer said.

“Good policy,” Harry replied. He felt his smile would never fade.

“It’s not just my fault,” he said to Ginny. “If I recall, you were more than willing. If anything you initiated it more often than not.”

Molly and Arthur grimaced. They looked like they were desperately trying to un-hear something.

Ginny smiled at her parents’ discomfort. She feebly tried to throw another pillow at Harry, only for Harry to grab hold of her wrist before planting a long kiss on her lips.

“Cheater,” she whispered as he pulled back. “Not fair. I was hoping to stay mad at you for a bit longer.”

“Stay mad?”

“Pretend to stay mad.” Ginny’s eyes softened as she looked at the precious bundle in the small cradle beside her. “Not really mad. Look at her.”

Harry did.

She was small, a tiny thing swaddled in clean white cloth. Strands of dark brownish red hair peeked past her little hat. Her face was impossibly carefree, eyes closed and mouth just barely opened.

“Go on then,” Ginny said. “Pick her up, greet your daughter.”

His hands trembled as he reached down for her. She looked small and felt even smaller. For a moment he hesitated, unsure if he should touch her. She looked incredibly fragile. He felt afraid again. Even more afraid than he was in the waiting room.

The baby whimpered.

Immediately he picked her up.

He was still careful of course, more careful with her than anything he had held before. He remembered to support her head, to cradle her close. He could feel how warm she was. He imagined he could feel her heart beat through her body. He felt his own heart swell and that tiny connection deep inside of him, the last gift he had received from the War, throbbed.

Molly sighed and held a hand to her heart. “You’re a natural dear. Just look at the way you look at her!”

“Born only for a few moments and already has you wrapped around her finger,” Arthur said with a smile that split his face in two.

Harry did not feel embarrassed at all. He sat beside Ginny on her bed, feeling his wife wrap her arms about his waist as they both looked down at the baby. “I think she looks a lot like you,” he said softly.

“Thank goodness for that,” Ginny said tartly making them both laugh. “Actually, I think she looks like the both of us mixed together. Especially her eyes.”

“Really?” Harry asked.

As if prompted, the baby opened her eyes. She looked about with interest before settling on Harry. They narrowed ever so slightly, as if trying to focus on this giant figure that was holding her. Her eyes were hazel, a blend of green and brown. Thin black strands were threaded through, almost as if the green and brown were bound together.

Harry lost himself in them.

“Oh! She has incredible eyes!” Molly gushed. Her hands twitched, wanting to hold her granddaughter. She looked so eager but was able to wait. “So beautiful.”

Harry held up his hand. “We did good work Ginny.”

Ginny gave him a high five, making her mother snort and the Healers and Medi assistants laugh. “Yeah we did,” Ginny said with a wink.

The Healer did a few quick diagnostic charms before slipping out with her assistants, leaving the family to celebrate. Harry was reluctant to let the baby go but he was filled with joy and affection seeing her be passed around the room. He finally got her back after she was fussing a little in Molly’s arms and the baby immediately went still as soon as Harry held her again.

“She already knows her father,” Arthur said.

Molly’s eyes sparkled. Her enchanted needles clicked and clacked on a chair in the corner, fueled by her enthusiasm. “Have you decided on a name yet?”

Ginny looked at Harry. “I know you wanted to name a daughter Lily. I think that’s a lovely name.” She hesitated briefly. “But…”

Harry shook his head. “She doesn’t feel like a Lily.” He looked down at her beautiful eyes, at the green and brown bound by black. “I…have another idea if I may. I think it’s a pretty name. And it’s a flower name too.”

At Ginny’s nod of encouragement Harry spoke softly, “Amaryllis.”

The baby smiled.

“Oh my word,” Molly whimpered, both hands to her heart. “Did you see that?!”

Ginny’s eyes twinkled and she sniffled. “Amaryllis Potter. I like that sound of that. Clearly the baby does too. Plus, it will give us plenty of opportunities for nicknames.”

While Ginny never met Amaryllis, not officially save that unfortunate time during her second year, she knew of her. After the War, after the Ritual Dementors were set free, Harry had told her about it all. About the witches and wizards who were “punished”, sentenced for senseless crimes to a punishment beyond inhumane.

Ginny had been shocked and horrified, much like everyone else who learned about it. She had worked hard with Harry to find out as much as they could for the ones who became Ritual Dementors. They dug up past records, pieced together histories, and ensured that future generations would not forgive the Ones-Who-Lost, the Forgotten Ones.

Ginny had told Harry she wished she could have met Amaryllis, Leonard, Alonsyus, Annabelle, Alexander, and all the others. She had told Harry she wished that she could thank Amaryllis personally.

“For what?” he had whispered.

“For saving you. For being there when you needed her. For everything,” she had replied.

Harry looked at Ginny. His eyes asked.

Her eyes answered.

Harry looked down at his daughter. “Amaryllis Potter.”

Amaryllis smiled again.

His connection burned inside of him. It burned brightly, filling him with warmth and intense happiness.

A knock was heard and the door opened a crack. The Healer popped her head in. “What would you like me to tell your other visitors? They are starting to fill the waiting room and they’re getting rather restless.”

Molly pulled Arthur. “We’ll go placate them for a bit longer, dears. Take as long as you like, we’ll hold them back.”

“Thanks mum,” Ginny called after as they left. She looked up at Harry. “I know I’m going to enjoy the attention and the like but I really want to savor this moment.”

Harry agreed. He settled back, one arm pulling Ginny to him and the other holding Amaryllis securely. He never felt happier, never more content. Here he was with his wife and his daughter, two people he loved intensely. It was something he never thought he would have, never thought he would make it to. If it were not for dear friends, he would not have made it here.

“Your namesake once told me she was going to ensure that I have a happy future, that I would have a long life after everything I’ve went through. She said I deserved it.”

He felt Ginny’s arms tighten around his waist. He felt tears in his eyes, his vision obscured and watery.

“I’m going to do the same for you.”

His connection throbbed deep in his being, pulsating in time with the beat of Amaryllis’ heart.

Harry bent down to kiss Ginny’s forehead. “Hey Ginny?”

“Yes?”

“I’m okay. I’m really okay.”

And he was.

Chapter Text

For once in his life, Harry Potter was glad people were avoiding him.

As the Boy-Who-Lived, he was constantly being approached by strangers. Wizards and witches that wanted to shake his hand, touch him. To tell him things, ask for things, to offer under facades of force.

Earlier in the year, a lot of people were avoiding him. They thought him a liar, one that wanted to be in the spotlight. They thought, despite his protests, that he had cheated the system and entered himself into the Tri-Wizard Tournament. None save for his best friend Hermione and a few Professors believed him. They were eager to stay away from him, to insult him at every opportunity.

After he lived through the First Task, they were back. They wanted to show their new-found sincerity, that they believed him. All of a sudden he was accepted again, wanted again, desired even.

He hated them for that.

The Yule Ball had been an insurmountable sudden task. Girls flocked to him, wanting to be seen on his arm, to bask in reflected glory. The one he wanted to ask was unavailable to him. His best friend had promised to go with another. Harry had been desperate, despondent, dejected, and many other things.

Then he had an idea. It was not a good one. It was one that might work, might amuse him.

He succeeded beyond his wildest dreams.

People gave him a wide berth but to be fair, he was not the main reason for people avoiding him.

The girl on his arm was the source of people's distress. On the surface she seemed normal. Her skin was a bit too pale, her features a bit too sharp, her figure a bit too thin almost wasted. She was dressed in archaic black dress robes, the edges seemingly tastefully frayed. Long grey hair fell elegantly down her shoulders. Large black eyes without pupils peered about with interest. Physically she appeared like a student.

Her aura showed she was not a student. She was not truthfully human either. She was a Dementor, in a temporary borrowed form. One that could exist around others without causing the full effects a Dementor made people feel. Yet it could not be completely eliminated and people could feel their skin crawl around her, their spines shivering, their good cheer slowly being chipped away and drained.

Harry was loving every single moment.

He grinned from his seat at the top table, relishing the looks of disquiet people threw his way. He barely resisted the urge to wink cheekily, toasting them all with dripping insincerity.

She giggled, a spectral sound that was somehow charming and deeply disturbing. "You are enjoying this far too much."

He could not disagree. "If you saw how most people were treating me just a few weeks ago, you would understand."

"I can see," she said. A shockingly pink tongue licked her thin lips. "I can see their surface thoughts, see how they acted around you." She looked at him with her empty pupil-less eyes. "I can see your memories of them. I do not blame you at all."

He shuddered slightly.

She looked slightly ashamed. "My apologies. I promised to not peer into your thoughts, however your anger at them rests at the very surface of your mind. You radiate your indignation, it is difficult to filter out." She smiled. "Luckily your class mates are not as guarded. I can sup from their feelings more easily."

He gave her a look. "Remember our deal."

Her smile grew wider. "Of course. I do not Feed from them, nor will I Kiss them. Same as I do not peer into your thoughts and inspire the Dread in you. You sharing your magic with me this night is more than equal compensation for that." She sighed and somehow her eyes became dreamy. "However, this much emotion? This much raw energy? I cannot avoid it all. Imagine you not gaining pleasure from your meal when you are bathed in it."

Harry snorted. "I don't bathe in food." He looked at his dessert wistfully. "If I could bathe in treacle tart though, I might. It'd be sticky but worth it."

She laughed. The sound caused all around to shudder from deep primal fear. Harry was not immune to it, but he realized the shuddering was not just from fear.

The band began to play and everyone watched the dance floor expectantly, waiting for the Champions to open the ball. For a moment Harry sat unmoving, unwanting to put himself on display.

She rose first. She waited patiently, hand outstretched. Finally Harry took her hand, rising to his feat. Her skin was deathly cold but not completely unpleasant, like touching a popsicle on a summer day. An extreme temperature but oddly welcoming.

They danced in front of the school and he somehow was able to not make a fool of himself. She danced gracefully, moving as if just floating on her feet. Her touch was light but firm, her motions sure and guiding.

"You are enjoying yourself."

He grinned. "More than I thought I would. You're a great dancer."

Her laughter made him shiver from something different than fear. "Dancing is emotion. Dementors are creatures born from emotion. It is a part of us."

"Really?"

Her hair billowed about her. "Admittedly, raw and darker emotions, but emotions nonetheless. The moans we make are music, music to enthrall and to devour. We reach out to grasp and capture, as elegant as any predator. We hunger..." she shrugged, "...much like any human does. We hunger for what we do not have, what those call warmer and wholesome emotion. Perspective I suppose."

He thought about that for a long moment. "Guess, perspective really does make a difference." He smiled shyly. "Imagine my surprise at a Dementor that didn't try to Kiss me last year. One willing to fight the others."

"Imagine my surprise at being sated by a young Wizard's spell." She giggled once more. "A Patronus that should have chased me away, instead of awakening something within me. Magic truly is a wonderous thing."

Eventually the night drew to an end. None save Hermione were able to brave the Dementor's aura, and she only withstood it for a few minute before fleeing. Harry had felt the aura, he was not completely immune, but he found himself being bothered less and less by it as the night went on. Towards the end it simply was a part of the air, something he could feel but it did not bother him.

He walked her to the gates of the school and watched as her dress robes swallowed her form, growing darker and more ragged. Her skin paled further, her limbs shrouded by the robes. Before her cloak rose, her face drew towards his.

He stood stock still as her face touched his and retreated. His cheek burned where her lips touched it. His face flushed and while he knew some of it was from the intense chill, it was from something else as well.

"I thought you weren't going to Kiss anyone," he stammered.

The hood came up and her face disappeared. Her voice was just as playful however, not even the rasping moan could hide her humor. "Oh Harry. There is Kissing, and then there is kissing. I did not break my promise."

The gates opened and closed and she was no longer there. Yet as Harry walked back to the castle, his cheek tingled and the sensation did not fade.