Twisted Tales

Dementor Attack

Fog rolls over the ground, a hazy green light illuminating the ashen grey gravestones. The stench of musty death dances on the light breeze. Bare feet crunch against brittle, dying grass. Blood red eyes slide over hooded figures, lingering on the gaps in their circle. Long, bone-white fingers gingerly curl around the end of a wand, pointing the tip at the nearest figure.

His words come out in cold hisses, "Lucius, my slippery friend. I am told that you have not renounced the old ways, though to the world you present a respectable face." His eyes narrow to thin slits, now circling around the man. "You are still ready to take the lead in a spot of Muggle-torture, I believe? Yet you never tried to find me, Lucius."

After a few more thinly veiled jabs at Mr. Malfoy's loyalty as of late, he moves on, stopping at a gap in the circle. Proud words are spoken about the couple that should be standing there, those amongst the most loyal, those who were willing to go to Azkaban before renouncing their leader.

Chilled fingers slide over my exposed face, cupping my cheek in the way an inexperienced eye might misconstrue as affection. He stares down at me, the corner of his thin lips twitching, "Ah, you who have suffered greatly for the inadequacies of those who pledge to be loyal. My dearest. I believe the Malfoys have been looking after you as of late."

Nodding, I let my eyes slide past the thin creature in front of me, landing on Lucius, "Yes."

"Perhaps his only redeeming quality. For you will play a more important role in this story than anyone could know."

A bright light rips across the sky.

~~~~~~

"We should go help them," I hiss to the grey-haired woman hovering beside me. Dark, wispy creates dip down, slowly sucking thin tendrils of life from Harry and his bird-brained cousin.

"Not yet, Isabelle. We shouldn't get involved," Mrs. Figg quips back, holding a shaking arm up to prevent me from stepping around the wall.

Letting out a defeated sigh, I continue to watch what looks like imminent death. He's supposed to be able to perform the charm. The whole Order was buzzing about Harry's incredible ability to drive away the Dementors coming for Black. It appears he may have lost his touch.

As I'm about to pull out my own wand, defying orders in an attempt to save the boy, he struggles to his knees. The words slip from his mouth, a spark of silver flying from the end of his wand. The Dementors let out shrieking hisses, drawing away from the two. Harry calls out again, his voice now clear and crisp against the silence that's settled over the street. The vile creatures make one final effort to pierce the magical barrier before giving up, disappearing into the night.

"Come along," Mrs. Figg digs a boney knuckle into my back, ushering me up the tunnel towards Harry and his cousin.

The boy's eyes grow wide as he sees us, trying to shove his wand back into his pocket, "Mrs. Figg?"

"Don't put your wand away, Harry," she gives a nervous look up and down the street, "They might come back."

"Dementors, in a muggle neighborhood!" I let out a scoff, nudging Dudley with the toe of my shoe. His body shifts a little, settling back against the concrete. "I reckon the Ministry knows nothing of it."

Harry blinks back at me; lips flapping open and closed, "Sorry, who are you?"

"I'm Isabelle. I go to Hogwarts, fifth year, just like you. I was in your potions class last year."

"Er – great," Harry responds, the way his eyebrows scrunch together letting me know he doesn't remember. Just as well I suppose.

Mrs. Figg continues to shoot wary glances up the street, jumping at every noise. She casts a glance down at Harry's cousin, frowning slightly, "Come along, best be on our way."