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Chapter 701: Dementors Dropping Gear
🕑 Added 2025-04-16 11:06:11 +0000 UTCHertfordshire, a county on the outskirts of London, was home to just one witch according to Ministry records: Hermione Granger. Now that Hermione had moved to Diagon Alley, the area was entirely inhabited by Muggles.
A dreary gray mist hung over Hertfordshire, blanketing everything in a foggy, sandstorm-like haze. On the streets, pedestrians hurried along, shielding their noses and mouths while bundling themselves tightly against the cold.
It was an odd sight for July. The biting chill made people shiver, with some even resorting to wearing winter coats.
“This damn weather... Everyone at the Meteorological Bureau deserves a pay cut for this!” a man grumbled, rubbing his hands together. He had come to deliver some documents and hadn’t anticipated the drastic drop in temperature. As he stepped off the subway, the frigid air hit him like a wall. His thin summer attire was woefully inadequate.
Quickening his pace, the man soon broke into a run, eager to finish his errand and escape the unnaturally cold streets. But the faster he ran, the colder he felt.
His breath grew labored, his head began to spin, and with each exhale, a puff of white mist escaped his lips—something he hadn’t expected to see until winter. Frost began to form on his suit, though he was too disoriented to notice. His legs grew stiff, his pace slowing as though he were moving through quicksand.
Then, in the midst of the gray haze, something materialized above him: a ghostly figure cloaked in black, floating ominously in the air.
“Shhh...hooo…”
The chilling sound of a deep, rattling breath echoed. The man’s expression turned blank as if an unseen force was draining him. The joy from his recent promotion, the laughter from last night’s celebration with colleagues—all the happiness in his memory began to dissolve.
A surge of panic jolted his mind. He wanted to flee, but his body refused to obey. He stood rooted in place, paralyzed.
The Dementor loomed closer, its hood drawn back as it prepared to feed. The man’s vision blurred, the colors around him faded, and he slipped further into darkness.
But just before he succumbed completely, a silvery light pierced the mist. It shone brightly, warm and radiant, dispelling the cold and banishing the despair. Gradually, the numbness in his body subsided, and his senses began to return.
In the distance, he heard voices.
“Cedric, do you think we need to use a Memory Charm on him?”
“What charm?” The man strained to focus, summoning all his strength to open his eyes.
Two figures came into view—teenagers, perhaps seventeen or eighteen years old. And there it was again, the silvery glow… except now he realized it wasn’t light at all, but a floating jellyfish.
“This has to be a dream. How could a jellyfish float in the air?” he thought drowsily.
But his musings were abruptly cut short.
“Obliviate!”
Kyle sighed, glancing at the unconscious man. “Why did he have to wake up at that exact moment? I wanted to avoid the hassle, but now there was no choice.”
The two young wizards were Kyle and Cedric. Their presence in Hertfordshire wasn’t a coincidence. After hearing from Hermione that something was amiss, they had left the Leaky Cauldron to investigate and had arrived just in time to save the man from the Dementor’s clutches.
The silvery jellyfish that had driven the creature away was, of course, Kyle’s Patronus.
With a wave of his wand, Kyle gently levitated the man and set him down next to a postbox by the roadside.
"Is he going to be okay here?" Cedric asked, crouching down to place a piece of chocolate in the man’s mouth.
“He’ll be fine,” Kyle assured him. “He’s eaten the chocolate, so he should wake up in a few minutes. Even if someone spots him before that, they’ll probably just think he’s drunk. Honestly, the smell of alcohol hasn’t even worn off yet.”
“Alright,” Cedric said, standing and glancing at the silver jellyfish Patronus still floating near Kyle and the writhing Dementor ensnared in its tendrils. “What about the Dementor? Should we take it back with us?”
“No,” Kyle replied with a shake of his head. “It tried to suck this guy’s soul out, so we’ll just deal with it here.”
As soon as he finished speaking, the tentacles of his Patronus tightened further, constricting the Dementor like a snake. Within moments, the creature began to dissolve, melting away like an ice cube thrown into a fire. All that remained was its tattered black cloak, fluttering lifelessly to the ground.
Cedric stepped forward and waved his wand, summoning a sheet of flames that quickly reduced the cloak to ashes.
“Bit of a waste,” Kyle muttered under his breath.
“Waste?” Cedric gave him a puzzled look. “What use could that cloak possibly have? It’s not like anyone could turn it into clothing.”
“Of course not,” Kyle admitted. “And even if they could, no one would wear it. But I’ve been thinking of suggesting to Fudge that the Ministry offer bounties for killing Dementors. Something like exchanging proof of a kill for a few Galleons.”
“Are you serious?” Cedric asked, raising an eyebrow. The idea struck him as absurd. Even assuming the Ministry would agree to pay, how would anyone prove they’d killed a Dementor? Most wizards couldn’t bind one as Kyle’s Patronus did. At best, Aurors might destroy them with the Fiendfyre Curse, and even then, the results left little evidence.
“Yeah, forget it,” Kyle sighed, realizing the flaws in his own plan. “It’s not worth trying to fool anyone.”
At that moment, the man on the ground stirred.
Kyle quickly dismissed his Patronus, and he and Cedric adopted casual expressions as they walked away, trying to seem inconspicuous.
“So, where to next?” Cedric asked. “The Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures reported traces of Dementors in Surrey and Buckinghamshire.”
“No rush,” Kyle replied, glancing upward at the oppressive gray mist hanging overhead. “This level of fog isn’t something a single Dementor could cause. Let’s keep looking.”
The two moved to an open area, cast Disillusionment Charms on themselves, and mounted their broomsticks. These weren’t ordinary brooms; they’d had them specially modified at a broomstick shop to include invisibility enchantments, a common feature for Aurors chasing Dementors.
They ascended into the sky and hovered, scanning the area from above. After about half an hour, Cedric pointed toward an isolated street below.
“Look there...”
Kyle followed Cedric’s gaze and spotted another Dementor. This one, however, behaved differently. Instead of lingering to deliver its soul-sucking “kiss,” it fed briefly on a Muggle before retreating, seemingly satisfied.
“Do we have to kill this one?” Cedric asked.
“I'll go and negotiate...”
Kyle turned his broomstick around and approached the Dementor.
To Cedric's surprise, Kyle actually spoke to the Dementor—and it seemed like the creature understood him!
When did he learn to speak with Dementors? Is that what it takes to work for the Ministry these days?
Before Cedric could think much further, Kyle raised his wand.
A ball of golden-red flame appeared out of nowhere, taking the form of a dragon. It roared to life and incinerated the Dementor into ashes.
“Talk’s over,” Kyle said with a shrug as he turned back to Cedric. “It wasn’t too keen on going back to work for the Ministry... Finite Incantatem.”
He planted his wand into the ground, and the remaining flames vanished instantly.
“That’s no way to handle it,” Cedric remarked. Almost absentmindedly, he popped a chocolate into the mouth of the Muggle the Dementor had attacked.
As the two prepared to leave, Kyle noticed something unusual on the ground.
Beneath the ashes of the Dementor was a small pile of black dust, fine and strange.
Kyle frowned. He hadn’t thought anything could survive the Fiendfyre Curse.
“In the spirit of not wasting anything...” he muttered, pulling a bottle from his satchel. With a flick of his wand, he collected the black dust into the bottle.
“What do you even need that for?” Cedric asked, eyebrows raised.
“Just in case it’s useful,” Kyle replied. “Even Basilisk scales can be used in potions, so maybe whatever this is can be, too. And if not, there’s always alchemy. Anything that survives Fiendfyre has to have some kind of value.”
Kyle examined the bottle with a grin. “Who knows? Maybe there’s even a bounty for it!”
“Don’t even think about it,” Cedric said, rubbing his forehead. “We’re talking about Dementors. Even if there was a bounty, it’d cost the Ministry a fortune. Do you think Fudge would go for that? Especially now that Malfoy isn’t funding the Ministry anymore?”
“Doesn’t hurt to try,” Kyle said with a shrug.
Dementors were scattered everywhere, and neither the Aurors nor the two of them could possibly clear them all in a year. Besides, school would be starting soon, and Kyle would need to figure out other methods. Whether the bounty idea worked or not was a problem for later.
As they dispatched the two Dementors, the gray mist in the sky lightened considerably, leaving only a thin layer.
This was normal now. All of Britain, including the Ministry of Magic and Diagon Alley, was shrouded in this oppressive haze. As long as the Dementors roamed free, the mist would persist. Still, the improvement was noticeable. The temperature had risen, and the faint sunlight breaking through the mist felt warm against their skin.
They flew in a wide circle, scanning the area to ensure there were no more Dementors nearby. Satisfied, they turned their attention to the next location.
The Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures and the Auror Office both maintained a log of reported Dementor sightings. Though the records weren’t perfectly accurate, they were enough to use as a guide.
Cedric opened the book he carried.
“Looks like someone in Cambridgeshire reported Dementor activity not long ago,” he said. “It’s close by. Should we check it out?”
“Of course.”
...
To destroy the Dementors as quickly as possible, the two of them spent two days flying tirelessly, relying on Pepperup Potions when their energy flagged. It wasn’t until the evening of the third day that they finally returned to the Leaky Cauldron.
Cedric, utterly exhausted, collapsed into a chair. His legs trembled from the long hours of flying, and he sat there panting, too drained to even move.
“What were you doing?” Fred and George asked in unison as they approached. The twins had shown up after hearing about their return and were now eyeing Cedric with suspicion.
“I’m warning you, don’t do anything to upset Cho...”
“Piss off!” Cedric snapped, shooting a quick glance over his shoulder to ensure Cho wasn’t paying attention. Thankfully, she seemed oblivious.
“Relax, mate. We’re just joking,” Fred said, grinning as he plopped into the seat beside Cedric. “But seriously, what were you up to?”
Neither of them answered.
Cedric was too tired to respond, and Kyle simply didn’t feel like talking. He was even more worn out than Cedric.
Ever since discovering that Dementors left behind traces of a mysterious black substance, Kyle had avoided using the Patronus Charm. Instead, when he encountered Dementors that refused to cooperate, he unleashed the Fiendfyre Curse.
Fiendfyre was immensely powerful but also dangerously draining. Each time, he had to follow it with Finite Incantatem to extinguish the flames. By the end of the day, it was a miracle he could still stand.
At least the effort had paid off.
Kyle’s bottle was now completely full of the strange black residue. He planned to ask Dumbledore or Nicolas Flamel if they could identify it and determine whether it had any use.
After wolfing down several pork schnitzels and a large mug of hot cocoa, both of them began to feel more like themselves.
“Where’s Hermione?” Kyle asked, setting his empty mug on the table.
“She went to find her parents,” Fred replied. “But it’s about dinner time, so they should be coming down any moment... Oh, there they are.”
As he spoke, Hermione and her parents appeared at the top of the stairs, descending toward the dining area.
“Kyle!” Hermione called out as soon as she spotted him and hurried over. “Hello, Cedric...”
“Ah, hello,” Cedric replied, still slumped in his chair.
“Kyle, I’ve been looking for you these past few days, but everyone said you weren’t at the Ministry,” Hermione said, her expression curious and slightly concerned.
“I had some errands to run,” Kyle replied. “What’s up? Are your parents not settling in here?”
“No, they’re fine,” Hermione said, shaking her head. “I came to pay you back.”
She pulled a small bag of Galleons from her pocket and handed it to Kyle.
“That was fast...” Kyle said, blinking in surprise. “Did you rob Gringotts or something?"
You can only achieve that level of efficiency by pulling off a heist at Gringotts.
“Of course not,” Hermione said. “Don't forget that we Muggle-born wizards can exchange pounds for Galleons.”
“Can you exchange that much?” Kyle asked, sounding a little surprised.
“Yes,” Hermione nodded, “but once you exchange more than twenty Galleons, the pounds required increases significantly, making it less cost-effective.”
“Then why did you exchange it?” Kyle asked, puzzled. “I’m not asking you for interest, so what’s the rush?”
“It’s fine,” Hermione replied with a smile. “Ron’s brother Bill used to work at Gringotts, remember? He mentioned that gold and jewelry are also accepted as hard currency there, so we found a way to exchange some."
“Although it’s still more expensive than the standard rate of five pounds per Galleon, Bill introduced us to a Goblin he knows, so the deal wasn’t too bad.”
Hearing this, Kyle nodded and put the Galleons away.
“In that case, I have some good news for you,” he said. “Does your family also live in Hertfordshire?”
“That’s right,” Hermione confirmed with a nod.
“There aren’t many Dementors left there anymore.” Kyle casually reached over, grabbed Fred’s Butterbeer, and took a sip.
Cedric, following his lead, swiped George’s.
“Hey, that’s mine!” Fred protested indignantly.
“Don’t be so stingy. Just buy another one,” Kyle said nonchalantly.
“Wait, what do you mean there are no Dementors left?” Hermione asked, her expression puzzled.
“That’s what we’ve been dealing with for the past few days,” Kyle explained, taking another sip of Butterbeer. “To be honest, you were right to move to Diagon Alley—there were quite a few Dementors around Hertfordshire. But now they’re gone, so you can move back home whenever you want.”
Huh? Hermione blinked, momentarily at a loss. She wasn’t sure if this was good news or not.
Technically, it was—her parents wouldn’t have to worry about Dementors anymore. But she had just paid fifty Galleons two days ago for a month’s lodging here.
If she moved out now, could she get her money back?
Hermione glanced at the pub owner and immediately knew the answer: absolutely not.
Fifty Galleons—enough to last her until graduation at Hogwarts.
“Thank you... thank you...” Hermione said, clutching her chest as she spoke stiffly.
For the first time, she felt the Ministry of Magic didn’t really need to act so quickly.
But she quickly adjusted her mood.
The Dementors in Hertfordshire might be gone for now, but that didn’t mean more wouldn’t come later. Staying in Diagon Alley was still safer, and the expense had been worthwhile to help her parents better understand the wizarding world.
In truth, they’d been having a great time.
Her mother had adored the clothing at Madam Malkin’s and had spent hours in the apothecary browsing potions. Her father, on the other hand, had been utterly fascinated by the various magical products—especially a toothpaste that claimed to contain Ashwinder egg essence.
It had been ridiculously expensive, but he’d bought a tube anyway.
If she told them to move back now, they’d probably be disappointed.
