Chapter Text
Prompt 5 – A mysterious fog has descended on a village, and nightmares start to manifest in reality. The MoM has no idea what could be causing it.
Bingo #I1 – Dementors
The first time Hermione noticed the Dementor had been the day Dolores Umbridge had been attacked in the Ministry atrium. Hermione had paused on her way to work that morning to look at the Fountain of Magical Brethren, which had been restored after the war. On that morning the fountain had been full of fog, which she’d found interesting. It had been roiling and most people had given it a wide berth. Standing there, sipping on her morning coffee, Hermione had watched as Umbridge came through the Floos. The toad-like woman had noticed her, commented about how ‘muddy’ it was outside, and then marched off towards the elevators.
Hermione had let the comment slide off her back. The fog, however, had responded to her, and just as Umbridge walked past the fountain, the Centaur statue had come to life, dragging her into the roiling waters before she even knew what was happening. Most people had been aghast when it began tearing her clothing off but Hermione had only been amused. Dolores was still terrified of Centaurs, ever since Hermione had sent her for a little visit.
Hermione might have been able to rustle up some sympathy for anyone else in this situation, but watching Umbridge being assaulted by a statue? Was delightful. She had wondered who or what was responsible for the fog, and whether they might be interested in her plans, and that was when it had happened. Her happiness had drained away, sucked out of her, and she’d realised there was a Dementor nearby.
Unfortunately, Dolores had been fine, the Security Wizards had gotten to her before the statue could do too much damage and the fog had dissipated. After that though, she had noticed something stalking her. She hadn’t been sure at first, thinking it was just her imagination. The prickling of her skin, the feeling of being watched, the little oddities that occurred too often to be coincidence. She’d put it down to an excess of paranoia, but there were too many small signs. Individually, they could easily be dismissed, but together it added up to something.
She’d mentioned it casually to Luna one day and the other girl had blinked in surprise and said, “There’s a Dementor following you, I thought you knew.”
Hermione hadn’t known, but it made sense. Her windows were always frosted over with ice in the mornings, even though it was a bit early in the year for that. She’d encountered a lot more foggy nights than she thought statistically probable, upon reflection. The Muggles she encountered had often seemed a little glum, her barista’s smile not quite as bright as it used to be when he greeted her in the mornings.
The problem was that she didn’t know why a Dementor would be stalking her. If someone at the Ministry had become interested in her activities it would be a problem, but if they had, this really didn’t seem like the best choice of spy. All that to say, she didn’t know why a Dementor was following her, but she was going to find out.
Planning how to trap a Dementor was rather fun. They were attracted to happiness and excitement, and would sometimes go into a feeding frenzy when energies got too high, so Hermione thought she’d just set out a nice smorgasbord for the thing and lure it in. She didn’t love the idea of mind controlling Muggles, but considering what she’d done to her own parents she was hardly going to quibble over a Confundus here or there.
She’d ‘encouraged’ her neighbour to host a birthday party for her nephew, who was turning 10. George had volunteered as a party planner and would ensure the children all had a screaming good time. Draco was on hand to bespell any of the adults who noticed anything amiss. Hermione would ensure none of them wound up with their souls consumed.
It all worked perfectly. George conjured up a brilliant bouncy house, which he assured her was full to the brim with amazing party tricks, stuffed the children full of candy, and then sent them off to have fun. It didn’t take long. The Dementor was an incongruous sight during the day time. She spotted it out of the corner of her eye, a black cloak drifting against the bright blue sky, floating down from the rafters of Grimmauld Place. She waited until it was close enough and then conjured her Patronus, sending her otter straight at it and herding it towards the basement door.
Harry and Ron were waiting in place and a moment later their three Patroni were working together to shepherd the Dementor into the basement, their casters following along behind. The Dementor struggled, trying to flee, but the moment the third Patronus appeared it gave up. The tattered, fluttering cloak went unnaturally still, and then the whole thing sagged, the will to flee draining from it and leaving only resignation. It floated slowly down the stairs before rotating slowly to look up towards them.
“Why have you been following me?”
Ron asked, “Can Dementors even talk?”
“Not now, Ron, but yes, they can. They are capable of limited verbal communication and also use a form of mental contact akin to Legilimency, though the exact mechanism remains unclear. Anyway. Dementor, why have you been following me?”
“I see you still can’t resist showing off your imitation of a textbook Miss Granger,” drawled the cloaked figure in a terribly familiar voice. “It’s good to see some things never change.”
Harry gasped, “Snape?”
“Astute as ever, Potter.”
“Bloody hell, did not see that one coming,” muttered Ron.
“The things you would not see coming could fill a book that even Miss Granger would find too dense to parse.”
Hermione smiled. “Good to see you haven’t changed either, despite being a Dementor?”
“I’m sure.”
“So why have you been following me, Snape?”
He floated menacingly for a moment before saying, “I wish to avenge myself. I’ve had some minor success terrorising some of my targets but it has been difficult to get close enough to even feed on their happiness, let alone suck out their souls. I am aware that you are plotting something and would like to know what that is.”
Hermione grinned with pride. He was clearly put out that he hadn’t been able to figure out what she was up to and approach them from a position of power.
Ron interjected, “Oi, so you’ve been feeding on us then, you big bat?”
“Why did I even bother trying to teach? You may as well have sent a flobberworm to classes in your place, Weasley. Dementors drain magic from their targets in addition to memories. Although perhaps I shouldn’t put it past you to fail to notice such a thing. You’d wake up a squib one day and be rather upset for a few minutes until you were distracted by a cheeseburger.”
“Geez, sorry. No need to be such a git about it, mate.”
Snape tilted his head slightly back towards Hermione. “Well?”
“Well what?” she challenged.
“Are you going to tell me whatever plan you and your little team of miscreants are concocting?”
“Only if you ask nicely.”
Even with his face completely hidden by the large hooded cloak he was wearing, and, well, potentially entirely non-existent—dementors didn’t have faces, did they? Just a large sucking mouth—even as a featureless shadowy black cloak, Snape managed to perfectly convey his disdain as he swept a neat bow and said, “Oh please, won’t you tell me your plans, pretty please with sugar on top, I shall be ever so grateful to you and all your band of merry dunderheads for any assistance you are able to offer me at this time.”
“Do you usually find it helpful to be nasty and condescending towards people you want things from? It seems rather counterproductive.”
His cloak fluttered, in a brief moment of agitation before he said, “I would appreciate your assistance.”
“We are plotting the downfall of the Ministry, and revenge on all of the people responsible for your sentencing, plus a few more, give or take, who are particularly deserving.”
“The downfall of the Ministry?”
“It is an organisation that is corrupt to the point of infeasibility. We’ve discussed it ad nauseum and have all come to the agreement that there is nothing else to be done.”
“And you are also plotting revenge on my behalf? Why?”
“You know why. Draco and I put so much effort into your defence and the Wizengamot went and had you Kissed before we even knew you’d been released from St Mungo’s. It was disgraceful, and completely unjust, and I refuse to let it stand! Uhh, Draco too, had some objections, so we began discussing our options. How did you… I mean, what happened to you?”
“Your earlier regurgitation of the textbook was correct, as usual. Dementors use a form of Legilimency to feed upon their victims, but I doubt they’ve ever encountered an Occlumens of my talent before. It tried, I resisted. I realised that it was futile rather quickly however. Even if I won a battle of wills with the Dementor assigned to kill me I would not have been allowed to go free, so instead I lashed out. When I employed Legilimency against it I somehow consumed the Dementor and was able to take its place.”
“Didn’t anyone notice?”
He shrugged, “The Dementor that Kissed me wore a Lethifold as a cloak. I simply impersonated the Dementor and apologised, saying I had lost control of it during the Legilimency battle and claimed it had eaten my corpse.”
“That’s fascinating. You still seem like yourself though. I wouldn’t have thought a Dementor would have human motivations, they seem to only care about feeding, but—"
“As much as I do not enjoy your ceaseless chatter at the best of times it is particularly intolerable now. I wish to know, specifically, what you are planning. Not some vague fantasy about a band of children overthrowing the Ministry because they executed their least favourite Professor,” he said, voice dripping with contempt.
Harry retorted, “This ‘band of children’ did take Voldemort down.”
“Riding the coattails of Albus, myself, and countless others.”
“Funny,” Harry snapped, “that Albus left us up shit creek without a paddle then. Whatever you think, I’d never have done it without Hermione or Ron, and if Hermione says she can take down the Ministry, then she bloody well can. You’d better show her respect. She fought like hell for your trial—"
“And she failed,” Snape cut in, soft and venomous. “Forgive me if I find it difficult to believe that the girl who couldn’t even keep one prisoner alive is suddenly capable of overthrowing governments.”
Hermione wilted, feeling ashamed of her failure. She’d tried to work within the system to keep Snape alive, trusting that they’d be able to get him a fair trial and that justice would prevail, and she’d been crushed when it hadn’t worked out. It had broken something in her, in a way that surprised her.
She’d seen unfairness before, she’d lived it when Fudge had been in charge and had sent Umbridge to terrorise Hogwarts. She’d witnessed the adults she trusted prove incapable of protecting the students from the bureaucracy of a corrupt government official, but there had been a part of her that had always believed that once the war was over everything would be okay.
She hadn’t been right since she’d realised how false that was. The shattering of her childish illusions had left a void in her that she’d desperately been trying to fix ever since. As she pondered her feelings of failure her gambolling otter began to flicker and fade out, reflecting her troubled emotional state.
“Don’t you dare blame her!” Ron snapped. “Hermione did everything she could for you, you ungrateful prat! She poured herself into your defence. She was devastated when it all fell apart. She cried for you, you miserable bastard, and you’ve got the gall to act like she didn’t do enough? She did more than you ever deserved! And if you didn’t think she was capable, you wouldn’t be here asking for her help! Either bugger off to wherever you came from or stop being an arse, because if you hurt Hermione after everything she’s done for your sake I swear I’ll find a way to make you regret it.”
As Ron spoke his little terrier had gone feral, jumping around and snapping his teeth at Snape, until he’d drifted upwards to hover in one of the upper corners of the room, cloak pressed to the ceiling.
Hermione placed a hand on Ron’s arm. “Thanks, Ron. It’s all right. I was idealistic to think we could trust the Ministry after everything that had happened, but we know better now. That being said, Professor, Ron is correct. You came to us for help, and if you expect us to assist you then you will need to make some effort to be less abrasive.”
“Good luck with that,” muttered Ron.
Hermione smiled. “I can’t tell you our plans unless you mean to join us, but that’s your decision. We’ll go ahead with or without you. So if you want to be included, shelve the attitude. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry you were Kissed. I would have stopped it if I could have.”
Ron’s terrier lowered its hackles, and Snape floated down again with deliberate slowness.
“I wish to be included.”
“We are meeting tomorrow night. I’ll introduce you to the others, and we’ll vote on your inclusion. Try not to offend too many people. If you don’t receive a majority, there’s nothing I can do.”
“Just how many dunderheads am I entrusting my fate to?”
Harry snorted. “Yeah, this guy’s really going to win people over.”
Hermione sighed, the weight of disappointment settling over her. She’d spent so many hours preparing for Snape’s trial that she almost felt like she knew him. Learning about his life had softened her image of him so much that she’d forgotten what he was really like.
Discovering that he still lived, sort of, had briefly thrilled her. But her happiness had curdled in his bitter presence. He wanted their help, didn’t he? So why did he have to make it so bloody difficult?
“We could use your help,” she said tiredly. “We have a lot to plan, and I’m sure you could contribute a lot, but not if you’re only going to insult everyone. Please. Think about it. If you can manage to be civil, we’ll see you at seven tomorrow. If not… then don’t bother.”
A flick of her wand dismissed her otter and she stalked up the stairs without a backward glance.
Hermione went to bed late that night, after extensive discussions with Harry, Ron, and Ginny about Snape’s new existence as a Dementor, and their worries about what this might mean. Ron still seemed a little paranoid that Snape would try to feed off of them, arguing he’d probably invent new and horrifying Dementor tricks no one had ever seen before, so they all needed to stay on guard.
Unfortunately, they knew little of the creatures, or how they were made. There was some talk of breeding mists, but the process had never been documented, and the only known way to repel them was the Patronus charm. Hermione overruled Ron’s demand to keep Snape under constant Patronus guard, but did agree that the group could discuss it, if he was voted in.
Later, sitting cross-legged on her bed, wearing a threadbare old shirt and brushing her hair, she was startled by a low voice sounding from right behind her.
“Who else is in your little group?”
She screeched, spinning so fast that she tumbled off the bed with a thump. A quiet chuckle followed.
“Oh my god! What are you doing in my room?”
“I wanted to speak with you.”
“Did becoming a Dementor cause you to forget what manners are? You could knock! I’m not exactly dressed for company!”
“Don’t worry,” he said dryly. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before. Literally, as I’ve spent the past several nights in your room.”
“That’s so creepy! What the hell?”
He scoffed. “I’ve been going through your notes. I wanted to apologise actually, about earlier. I’ve seen how thorough you were with researching my defence, it was like your usual work but on strengthening solution, and it is far more than I deserved from you. It’s no fault of your own that you failed Miss Granger, and I am grateful for the attempt.”
Hermione blinked at him, her eyes stinging slightly, before rising and plonking herself back down onto the bed. “Thank you, I just… I can’t believe they did it. I’m still so mad at Kingsley for not warning us! He said he knew we’d do something stupid like storm the place and try to break you out and he’s absolutely right, we would have. I’m so glad you aren’t dead, but is it very awful? Being a Dementor?”
“It is… unsettling.”
“Unsettling how?”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“Tell me anyway.”
He hesitated, his cloak fluttering. “The hunger becomes… difficult to ignore. It grows until it’s all I can think of.”
“What happens when you feed?”
“It feels good,” he said flatly.
“Good how?”
He gave a faint, bitter laugh. “Trust you to ask endless questions. It feels wonderful, for a moment. It’s like being happy, and I can almost feel it, but it slips away from me, leaving nothing behind. And I think,” he paused, voice low, “each time I feed I lose something. A thought, a memory, a piece of myself. The more I take of others, the less of me remains.”
“So you’re starving yourself?”
“I am restraining myself. Once I have my vengeance, I shall not mind it, but until then… it is a struggle.”
“I’m so sorry. I wish I could promise to find something that might help, but your situation seems so unique that I doubt there’s any research to draw on. Still, if there’s anything I can do let me know. And if you ever need to feed, I know I’m not the most appealing option, but you may feed from me.”
He hovered silently for a moment before bowing his head. “Thank you Miss Granger, that is most kind of you. You do yourself a disservice though, you are quite appealing. I found your glee while watching Madam Umbridge’s distress irresistible. Any Dementor would be fortunate to eat you.”
Hermione froze, and her cheeks warmed. She wondered if he’d meant it to sound so… suggestive. She tugged at the bottom of her shirt, feeling suddenly exposed in her nightwear.
He cleared his throat, sounding uncharacteristically flustered. “Apologies. That was unnecessary. Please excuse me, I will leave you to your rest.”
He then drifted backwards, passing straight through her closed window, and vanished into the night. Hermione stared after him then shook her head and resumed brushing her hair. She wondered if she should be worried about how easily Snape could slip into her room. She’d have to look into Dementor containment solutions and see if she could subtly find out how his new powers worked. Another problem to add to her vast to-do list.