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Chapter 704: Dementors of Profit and Surrender
🕑 Added 2025-04-17 11:02:12 +0000 UTCCornwall...
“Expecto Patronum!”
A silver goose soared through the air, startling a Dementor so badly that it recoiled, folding in on itself. Before it could retreat, the goose collided with a slender flame mid-flight.
The flame wasn’t hot—or perhaps it was simply too small to feel at first—but the Dementor remained oblivious until it was too late. The flames coiled around it like a serpent, tightening with uncanny precision.
In a flash, the Dementor was reduced to ashes.
Kyle, now visible after removing the Disillusionment Charm, waved his wand. The flames that had consumed the Dementor gathered into a fiery orb and flew back to the tip of a wooden stick he held. The fire lingered there, burning steadily.
“This thing is really something...” Cedric remarked enviously, eyeing the torch in Kyle's hand. “Alright, it’s a deal. Next time, you’ll be the one to drive off the Dementors, and I’ll take the Gubraithian Fire.”
“No problem.” Kyle casually tossed the torch to Cedric. “Just be careful not to burn yourself. This isn’t as uncontrollable as the Fiendfyre Curse, but it’s still magical fire. I’d rather not visit you in St. Mungo’s.”
“Do you think so little of me?” Cedric said, frowning as he caught the torch. “I may not be as skilled as you in Charms, but I’m not incompetent. I can handle a Fire Charm.”
Kyle shrugged, offering no further comment.
At that moment, an owl flew over their heads.
Kyle reached into his pocket, pulled out a Sickle, and waved it. The owl immediately veered toward them, landing gracefully and extending a bag tied to its leg, which carried a stack of newspapers.
“Thanks, that’ll be two,” Kyle said, tossing the Sickle into the owl’s bag. “Keep the change.”
The Daily Prophet employed two types of delivery owls: standard ones and those specially trained to deliver papers to wizards on demand. These owls roamed the skies with newspapers in tow, responding to wizards who signaled them with coins.
“I didn’t know you could do that,” Cedric commented, intrigued.
“It’s nothing special,” Kyle replied, unrolling the newspaper. “Cornwall has plenty of witches and wizards, so running into a newspaper owl isn’t uncommon.”
“You’re right,” Cedric agreed, stepping closer. “So, what’s in the paper?”
“Actually, something interesting,” Kyle said, pointing to a bold headline on the front page.
The Ministry of Magic Offers High Rewards for Dementors
“Recently, both witches and Muggles have been tormented by Dementors, whose presence is severely disrupting daily life.
Yesterday, a concerned wizard approached the Ministry of Magic, advocating for united action against these creatures. To encourage such efforts, a generous reward has been announced:
200 Galleons for each Dementor captured alive and delivered to the Ministry.
100 Galleons for a Dementor’s black hood.
Killing a Dementor with magical flames will leave behind black ash; 2 ounces can be exchanged for 100 Galleons.
Important Notes: The Ministry urges caution and advises wizards to act only with a high degree of certainty.
Any damage to the environment, buildings, or people while handling Dementors will result in a reward deduction of 20 to 200 Galleons, depending on the severity of the damage.
If magical flames are not properly controlled, all rewards will be forfeited, and the offender will face an additional fine of 100 Galleons and one year’s imprisonment in Azkaban.
Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic, emphasized: ‘We are here to solve problems, not create them. All incidents must be reported promptly, and Aurors will be dispatched as soon as possible.’”
...
“A reward for Dementors?” Cedric stared at the newspaper in disbelief. “I didn’t realize those ashes were so valuable—100 Galleons for 2 ounces? Kyle, you’re practically rich!”
He couldn’t help but recall the bottle of ashes Kyle had been carrying around. Even if only half remained, it could still fetch a hefty sum of Galleons.
“What are you thinking...” Kyle shot Cedric a look of disdain. “We’re employees of the Ministry of Magic. This is our job. How can we even think about money? That’s just vulgar.”
Cedric froze, his mouth hanging open, utterly speechless.
“Wait... are you serious?”
He couldn’t believe Kyle had said something so sanctimonious—it was completely out of character. From what Cedric knew of him, Kyle would absolutely find someone outside the Ministry, like Lupin or Madam Weasley, and ask them to exchange the ashes for Galleons on his behalf. That was the Kyle he knew.
“Fine,” Kyle sighed, clearly conceding, as Cedric now regarded him with equal disgust. “The truth is, Sirius is the sponsor of this whole event. We can’t use the Gubraithian Fire he gave us to profit off him. That would be... a bit too shameless, even for me.”
“No wonder...” Cedric nodded thoughtfully. If even Kyle found it too shameless, then it really was crossing a line.
“But are you sure this is a good idea?” Cedric frowned. “What if someone brings in a fake? Black cloaks are common enough, and ashes like that don’t seem particularly hard to replicate. What if someone hands in a forgery and insists it’s from a Dementor? Are you going to pay them anyway?”
“Of course not.” Kyle waved his wand, summoning a tattered black cloak that appeared in midair. It was one they’d taken after killing their first Dementor, and Kyle had never bothered to discard it.
“As for how the Ministry can verify whether something is real or fake... just touch it.”
Hesitant, Cedric reached out and brushed his fingers against the cloak. He immediately recoiled.
“Hiss, it’s freezing...” The icy sensation seemed to stab through his fingertips, as though he’d plunged his hand into frigid water.
“See?” Kyle said with a smirk. “Anything left behind by a Dementor—whether it’s a cloak or the ashes from magical flames—will always be cold. That’s unique to Dementors. No matter how skilled someone is at magical imitations, they can’t replicate that effect... at least, not in any reasonable amount of time.”
Cedric still looked uneasy. “Even so, won’t it take a lot of time to sort out the fake ones from the real ones?”
“Nope, it won’t waste any time at all.” Kyle waved dismissively. “There will be a team of Hit Wizards stationed there to deal with anyone who tries to cheat. Oh, and do you remember the Dementors locked up at the Ministry?”
Cedric nodded.
Some Dementors surrendered when confronted by Aurors, and those were typically brought back to the Ministry instead of being destroyed. Despite their malevolence, even the Ministry acknowledged that Dementors made excellent guards.
Their presence was the primary reason Azkaban had such a terrifying reputation. Most wizards who survived imprisonment there would go to great lengths to avoid returning. In that sense, the Dementors had undeniably contributed to the Ministry’s efforts to maintain order.
“That’s part two of the plan,” Kyle continued. “The Ministry’s holding those Dementors in a special containment area—basically a temporary Azkaban."
"Anyone caught trying to pull a fast one will be sent there. And depending on how much they tried to fake, it’ll cost them 100 Galleons a day to get out... unless they’d prefer to buy their own fake back for the same price.”
Cedric’s eyes widened as he listened, utterly dumbfounded. He opened his mouth to respond but found himself completely at a loss for words.
“But… there’s nothing about this in the newspaper,” Cedric said, flipping through the pages again and scrutinizing every corner. As far as he could see, there was no mention of the plan.
"The office responsible for collecting Galleons will notify them," Kyle said calmly. "This is their opportunity to make amends, but if they choose not to, the consequences are on them."
“You came up with this idea, didn’t you?” Cedric asked, his tone unusually confident.
“I just made a suggestion, that’s all,” Kyle replied with a sly smile. “The wizards in Knockturn Alley are wealthy enough. It’s about time they contributed to society.”
“Knockturn Alley?” Cedric mulled over the implication for a moment before realization dawned.
Knockturn Alley was infamous for counterfeit goods. You could find snake blood mixed with sulfur being sold as dragon’s blood or dittany marketed as phoenix tears. Forgery was practically the alley’s hallmark.
If anyone was likely to present a fake Dementor’s cloak or ashes as the real thing, it would be the denizens of Knockturn Alley.
Cedric’s mouth twitched. He hadn’t expected Kyle to target that crowd.
“You’re planning to make them pay to get themselves out?”
“Five thousand Galleons sounds like a lot,” Kyle said, grinning, “but when you break it down, it’s not enough. The Auror Office and the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures aren’t part of the reward system, but they’ve received a little extra funding for their efforts. Call it a bonus. That leaves only 3,000 Galleons for rewards."
“And at 100 Galleons for each Dementor killed, we’d run out of funds after only 30 claims. For an operation of this scale, we need to think bigger."
“Those Knockturn Alley wizards have cheated plenty of people out of their money over the years. It’s about time they gave something back to the wizarding community.”
“Aren’t you afraid of being hated?” Cedric asked. “Those wizards aren’t exactly the forgiving type.”
“Hated? Why should I care?” Kyle replied with mock seriousness. “Fudge made the decision, The Daily Prophet published the story, and the Hit Wizards will make the arrests. What does any of that have to do with me? I’m just a lowly clerk running around, trying to fix the Dementor problem.”
Cedric was quiet for a moment before giving Kyle a silent thumbs-up. “No wonder you’ve been avoiding going back to the Ministry these past few days. I didn’t realize this was why.”
“Look who’s talking,” Kyle chuckled. “I just want to deal with the Dementors as quickly as possible.”
“Alright, you’re in charge,” Cedric said, not bothering to argue further.
After folding the newspaper, the two resumed their search. The next destination was listed in a report from the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures, but it had already been a few days since the information was filed. By the time they arrived, the Dementors were often already dealt with by Aurors or had moved elsewhere, leaving them empty-handed.
Still, it was better than wandering aimlessly. Having a target, even an imperfect one, was far preferable to wasting time without direction.
...
Probably because of the reward, Kyle and Cedric encountered fewer and fewer Dementors in the following days. Some had already been claimed in advance, leaving the two feeling uncomfortable about taking credit for them.
Eventually, they followed an address to a remote location.
“Are you sure there are Dementors here?” Kyle asked, surveying the surroundings.
Rubbish littered the area, and despite the broad daylight, the place was eerily deserted. The only movement came from a scrawny feral cat by the riverbank, pawing through weeds in a hopeful search for scraps of fried fish and chips.
Even a Dementor might starve in a place like this, Kyle thought.
“I don’t know,” Cedric replied, glancing at the pamphlet in his hands. “But the address is correct. A Muggle reported seeing a black, flying spectre here, and the Hit Wizard confirmed it was a Dementor.”
“An interesting Dementor,” Kyle remarked, perching on his broom to scan the area below. “Do you think it’s still here?”
“It is,” Cedric said with certainty, pointing toward a large, abandoned chimney. “It’s right there.”
Kyle followed Cedric’s gaze and, sure enough, spotted a Dementor hiding in a small gap at the base of the chimney.
It had to be said, Cedric’s Seeker vision was remarkable. The gap consisted of only three missing bricks, yet he had noticed the creature tucked inside.
Without hesitation, the two flew down. Kyle dispelled his Disillusionment Charm and pulled out his wand, ready to use the Patronus Charm to drive the Dementor out.
Before he could act, the Dementor emerged from its hiding spot on its own.
The temperature around them plummeted instantly, and the feral cat bolted in terror, its panicked yowls echoing in the silence.
“Get ready,” Kyle said, raising his wand as Cedric prepared his Gubraithian Fire.
But then, a hoarse voice broke the tension.
“Wizard... I surrender...”
Kyle froze. He recognized the voice—it was undoubtedly that of a Dementor.
But... surrender?
He exchanged a bewildered glance with Cedric.
It wasn’t unheard of for Dementors to surrender; it was, after all, how the Ministry obtained its Dementor guards. However, it was the first time either of them had encountered one giving up so readily.
“What should we do?” Cedric asked, holding the torch tightly.
“Let’s wait,” Kyle replied, cautiously flying closer and landing a short distance from the Dementor, his wand still raised.
As he approached, something about the Dementor’s cloak caught his eye. Most of it was in tatters, but a small portion appeared intact, though oddly mismatched—patched together with bits of cloth in various colors.
Dementors can mend clothes? Kyle thought, puzzled. The sight felt strangely familiar, but he couldn’t immediately place it.
“Wizards... I know you... I’ll go with you...” the Dementor repeated.
“You know me?” Kyle asked, frowning. “From Hogwarts?”
In their fourth year, the Ministry had stationed Dementors at Hogwarts to search for Sirius Black, who had escaped Azkaban. It was the only time Kyle could recall interacting with one.
“Yes,” the Dementor rasped, glancing nervously at Kyle’s wand. It took two instinctive steps back, pressing itself against the chimney. “I did not... attack...”
Kyle believed it. The nearest human was three miles away, and there were no signs of a struggle or disturbance. Even if it had wanted to attack a Muggle, there was no one nearby.
Of course, Kyle couldn’t rule out the possibility entirely—three miles was hardly a barrier for a Dementor.
“Well, if you’re surrendering, then get in...” Kyle said, retrieving a suitcase and placing it on the ground.
It was one he had recently crafted using the Undetectable Extension Charm, meant as a birthday gift for Harry. The interior space was roughly the size of a broom cupboard—small, but sufficient for their purposes.
“No tricks,” Kyle warned.
To his surprise, the Dementor didn’t hesitate. It dove headfirst into the suitcase, its skeletal hands reaching out to pull the lid closed after it.
The suitcase wobbled, as though urging Kyle to fasten the latch quickly.
Kyle and Cedric stared at it, dumbfounded.
They had seen Dementors surrender before, but never one so eager—as if it couldn’t wait to be captured.
