Written for The Houses Competition
House Hufflepuff
Category: Short story
Prompt: Dementors
Word count: 1,371
Beta: Dark Angel of Sorrow Returns
Ivan Kusimein was a squib who had taken it upon himself to learn all he could about souls, the healing and the destroying. He was known as Ivan the Soul Healer outside of his village; wizards and witches came from miles to see him about problems they felt they had with their souls. Several of them claiming that they were the reincarnation of a terrible person who was whispering to them in the night. Each person that saw Ivan came out feeling lighter than they had before. He was the Soul Healer, and he healed souls.
Until it was discovered that Ivan the Soul Healer wasn't healing the souls, so much as taking a part of them away from the original mass. When inquired about his reasoning for stealing parts of souls, Ivan replied that he was experimenting. The villagers left it at that, though no one ever willingly went to see the madman again. Instead, Ivan worked with those who no longer cared about what happened to them; he worked with those that were of no use to the society.
As the years went by and Ivan descended further into his experiments, he tried to discover the secret to immortality; the title of Soul Healer vanished and was replaced with Demented. Ivan didn't care what titles were laid upon him, all he was interested in was his experiments.
"If I combine the souls enough…the power should…but how…" it was not uncommon for Ivan to mutter to himself; the villagers had taken to ignoring him.
Then came the time where no one saw or heard Ivan the Demented for a full harvesting season. The only sign that he was still alive and kicking were the puffs of smoke erupting from his workshop on a hill far away from the village centre. The rumours spread through the village like wildfire; perhaps Ivan was close to achieving immortality. Perhaps he was simply enjoying making different colours of smoke. Perhaps he was having a party with his imaginary companions.
The truth of it was that Ivan was close to achieving the ultimate power; the ability to suck out a soul of another person and absorb it into himself. He believed that with the energy each soul would provide, he could live forever. It was a sunny day when he finally figured it out and managed to put it into action. The villagers were out in the fields when a great explosion of darkness erupted from Ivan's workshop.
The darkness swept across the village, engulfing everything in cold and replacing the day with night. Screams could be heard echoing around the countryside. Within the darkness were small spots of light emerging from the hapless villagers falling to the ground. The lights flew to the epicentre and dove into the body of Ivan the Demented.
Ivan was laying on the floor of his workshop, unconscious from the blast as each soul became a part of him. Eventually, there were no more souls and the darkness retreated into what was left of Ivan. The squib no longer looked human; he had become a skeletal figure that seemed to be in the middle of rotting away. The only facial feature he retained was a great maw, forever open and forever hungry. A cloak of darkness surrounded him along with a bone-deep chill and an aura of despair felt by any who found themselves in close proximity to Ivan.
The story of the village's fate spread, and those who had known about Ivan blamed him for the event. Every villager had been turned into a shell, and all were accounted for except Ivan. The Healers didn't know how to help the villagers affected and assumed that their souls had been demented by the man previously known as the Soul Healer. Black shadows floated through the village and it was said that the sun never again touched any part of the once-happy village. And so, Ivan the Demented became Ivan the Dementor of Souls. He faded into legend after a while and was known only as the Dementor. An immortal creature that sucked out the souls of humans, a creature to be feared.
Blaise Zabini never let on how much he was affected by the Dementors circling Hogwarts' grounds. He had been alone in the bathroom when they had inspected the train and had since taken great care to not be in range of the Azkaban guards. His mother—the great Lady Zabini, rumoured to be a Black Widow—had sent him various charms and amulets to help ward off the memories she knew the Dementors brought out of her son.
It had been his first father—his original and biological one—that had sought out the First Dementor and taken Blaise along for the ride. The First Dementor had been a myth for so long that Celeste Zabini had merely indulged in her husband's flights of fancy. She did not believe that her husband would find the First Dementor, despite him being so sure and waving around an aged piece of parchment that documented what was suspected to be the origin of the Dementors.
So Blaise and his father, Henry, had set off to see the remains of the little village once known as Animus, the birthplace of the Dementors. Unfortunately for the Zabini family, Henry found a Dementor. In fact, he found quite a few Dementors; and they were all very interested in him and his three-year-old son.
As soon as Henry had entered the ruined shack on top of the hill on the outskirts of the village, Dementors started swooping down from every direction. They headed directly towards the two wizards, bringing with them the cold and despair that they were known for. For some reason ,unknown to Henry Zabini, the Dementors stopped out of reach and formed a circle around him and his son.
The reason soon became clear as another Dementor came swooping in. This Dementor seemed older than the others and was clearly revered by them. It was a logical conclusion that this was the First Dementor. According to the scroll that Henry had uncovered; this Dementor had once been human, a squib known as Ivan the Demented who had become a Dementor during his research into immortality and souls.
The First Dementor approached the couple as Henry pushed Blaise behind him. One rotting hand came up to clasp Henry's face and the wizard began to shiver. Knowing what was about to happen, Henry Zabini pushed a small button into the hand of his son. As his soul was dragged out of his body, Henry yelled, "Celeste!" and Blaise was whisked away by the portkey with the image of his father's soul being sucked out forever burned into his memory.
Blaise shivered as the air grew colder; he had been sitting in a little unknown niche on the second floor of Hogwarts. It was hidden by a floor-length tapestry and had become his refuge whenever the Slytherin common room grew too intense for him to bear. He had spent a lot of time there this year, striving to push back the memories of his father and the First Dementor.
Pulling his cloak tighter to his body, Blaise pushed himself up, and after checking that the coast was clear, he left the niche. He had promised Theodore Nott a game of chess that afternoon, hopefully it would distract him enough that he could sleep through at least one night without waking up in a cold sweat.
As he made his way down into the dungeons, Blaise glanced out one of the windows. Black shapes were floating along the boundaries, keeping watch for Sirius Black in case the mass murderer decided to try get into the castle. While almost all of them were patrolling back and forth, one Dementor was angled towards where Blaise was and did not move. It was as if it was staring straight at him. Blaise shivered again and hurried down the stairs to the common room where Theo would be waiting, hopefully with a butterbeer. Blaise Zabini would be very happy when the Dementors left Hogwarts.