A small hooded figure ran through the forbidding woods that surrounded the gloomy coast that lined the beaches and cliffs of Azkaban. Though he ran, it seemed more as if he flew and perhaps he did flew for his little feet hardly touches the ground and roots beneath him and yet frost grew fast under him. Two dark looming figure glided gracefully just behind him as they watched over their charge. Little One, they called him in their breathy language, for though their instinct recognised him as one of them, at the same time he was much too different when compared to them.
For one, unlike them, he hungers not for soul or emotion. He ate normal human food and though the weather does not disturb him, he slept. But he slept little compared to others of his kind. But the Two Brothers have spoken that he must be protected no matter their differences. And the Two Brothers were much like the fathers of all Dementors, their words as a good as human laws for the Dementors.
However, regardless that these inhuman creatures provided for him as much as they could through the years, it soon became clear that he's still a mortal child and a wizard at that. He will need proper teachers and they will sooner cause rampage than allowing any of the island's prisoner to come a yard closer to their Little One. And wizards on the mainland will not accept him easily. Thus, to their great distress they could not provide one important factor for a living mortal child; companionship.
But they do teach him about mortals, or at least the Two Brothers did. Other Dementors weren't so wise and knowing than they so Little One spent many hours with them, gliding over the rocky beaches where hardly anything grew. Life goes on with the Little One as the centre of their attention, other than keeping the prisoners in line and the occasional 'meal time'.
Little One can take souls out like they do, as was proven when he was playing with a rat that scurries along the damp dungeons of Azkaban where the Dementors entered into the prison. But he does not like it for it does not make him full, just having dreams of small places and mouldy prison food. Well apparently when he took a soul the way they do, he will share memories with the soul that he took.
Azkaban was a playground…a lonely playground but a playground nonetheless. He was a bit bored so he decided to glide to the more human populated area of Azkaban. Today they brought in yet another prisoner. Little One wondered what the man did to receive such a sentence. Baldur had mentioned Little One being too curious for a proper Dementor of his age. Regardless the fact that he was the youngest Dementor on the island for the last eight hundred years. But Holdur berated Baldur that Little One being curious was a sign of a healthy mind among his kind.
Sometime Little One doesn't understand just what they expected of him. Sometime they wanted him to be a prim and proper Dementor but at other times they wanted him to be a prim and proper human. Bored now at studying the wizard guards doing their usual rounds, Little One glided away from his perch and headed for that frozen puddle he discovered this morning by a small creak. He looked into the natural mirror and stared at his face.
Other than the Two Brothers, Little One was the only Dementor with a face and a name, though it doesn't seem like one, to a Dementor it was a name. His hair was long and wispy, like spider webs, he thought. He never bothered to care or cut them though he seemed to enjoy the feel of the comb in his hair.
Little One like to swim, and drag other Dementors into the water with him as he does so, thus his skin was clean from dirt and so was his hair. When they tangle badly, he used a sharp whistle to make blade out of air and cut the tangle out. It was useful gift of his. Funny how they never seem to end up in dreadlocks like most of the prisoners that he saw being dragged out for the Dementors' 'meal time'. Baldur seemed to say that perhaps it was due to his age.
Little One has very bright green eyes with animalistic quality to it. But it does not matter, after all both Baldur and Holdur has eyes of similar quality. Holdur once whispered that maybe because they are predators. Little One has very pale skin; some Dementors likened him to the moon when he seemed to glow under the starlight, sounding like a wistful witch. Dementors have no gender though, not like those wizards and witches.
He had always wondered what lay beyond the sea that surrounded the island. The Two Brothers never speak much of the mainland, saying that Dementors are to remain on the island unless been given direct order and permission by the Minister of Magic. Mortals, Little One decided, are odd.
How can 'magic' have a minister?
One day, when he was just three winters old, while chasing a large rat to stave off boredom from the lack of proper playmate and in hope of getting a pet, he ended up beneath a boat that was to head out to the British Isle. Thus by the time he caught the rat, the boat has left the island's port and escape was made impossible by the wizards on board and the turbulence movement of the boat. The eternal storm and chills of Azkaban soon gave way to a mild autumn evening when they finally reached English shore. Sneakily, Little One jumped out of the boat and sneaked around the Wizarding port. He noticed that even small humans, some smaller than even he, walked on the hard ground. Little One decided to try it out but when frost started to grow on the pavement where the skin touches, he decided to 'pretend' walking by pulling his ragged robe to cover his legs and dragged on the ground.
Having fun and feeling adventurous, Little One ducked behind one item to another, making sure his hood covering him well so that no one will notice him, as he moved farther away from the port. He then noticed something as he crossed over to duck behind another barrel. A large dog, probably the ferryman's familiar seemed to have sniffed him out and was now tracking him for as Little One duck behind a stack of cartons when he turned around only to meet face to muzzle with a gigantic black dog.
Little one stared into the scruffy black dog, so thin he could see bones lining underneath his skin and furs. This doesn't seem like the ferryman's familiar, maybe a stray that happened to be on the same boat? The dog felt odd to his Dementor senses, something about it felt off but unable to put a finger on it, Little One decided to let it slide.
Deciding to ignore the dog, Little One continued to explore the port quietly and some way or another, the dog slinked away. He duck the stares sent his way and watched quietly from the side as the children in the port city play about in the park. They shot strange looks his way but Little One ignored it. It was something that was drilled into him for as long as he can remember. Even among his own kind, he was regarded as something exotic. So ignoring weird looks sent his way was as easy as breathing for him.
Soon, he realised that he was so taken by the scenery and being surrounded by so many human that he realised too late that the ferry has left without him.
Little One tried flying a little across the sea when he realised that he wasn't strong enough to glide all the way to the island as he slowly felt that gravity pull harder on him the farther he goes. Sighing, he forced himself to glide back to the port city and landed heavily just as the wave crashed against the beach, drenching him with salt water.
Sighing, he wondered what he should do. He can't wait all night for the ferry to come back. His stomach grumbled. Despite the fact that he doesn't need to eat as often as most human, the fact that he used so much energy just trying to cross the sea to the island but managed not even halfway through before realising that he won't make it cause a spike in his appetite. Hungry now, Little One looked around for food but find that all the places that have food have closed down.
Sighing with hunger, he glided around and found himself down a dark alley littered with trashcan and black plastic bags. The scent of mould and decay greeted him, reminding him much of Azkaban. He glided quietly and saw several mice scurrying the ground, spooked by the deathly aura surrounding him. His stomach grumbled and sighing, he decided to grab some mice to stay off the worse of his hunger. Sucking out soul from the mice as if sucking juice out of fruits, he looked around. His hunt for mice had brought him deeper into the darker side of the city. A cat slinked by and he stared at the animal who looked at the mice that he held in his hand, now an empty twitching husk. He held it before him, offering the mice to the cat.
The animal stared at him, sizing him up before grabbing the offered meal from his small hand and wandered off to eat in peace. The hollow hunger in him satisfied though not the more physical hunger, Little One turned around to go back to the port but suddenly realised that he has become utterly lost in the dingy back alley of the city. After gliding around late into the night, he felt sleep nudging the back of his mind. Yawning, he looked for a place to lie down. After wandering around for a cleaner place, he saw an opening that lead to a forested area. Intrigued, he headed for the cluster of trees. Looking around, he decided to float up and lie on a branch, usually a favourite place for him back at Azkaban to nap. Finding a thick branch that he deemed comfortable, he perched on it and lay back. Soon, the haze of sleep greeted him…
Something woke him up an hour before dawn. Bleary eyed, he rub the sleep off his eyes and blinked into…a blank canvas. He blinked, now more awake, he noticed that it wasn't a blank canvas but a blank….face….
A little surprised, he leaned sideway and fell off the branch before gracefully glided to the ground, frost appearing beneath him; a sign of his agitation. He has seen magical entities before but not one of them felt more similar to a Dementor than this faceless creature. It landed in front of him before straightening to its full height. It smelled of death and decay, reminding Little One of the company back at Azkaban. The tall, thin creature dressed sharply in non-magical mortal suite and stood taller than most mortal combined. It seemed male but Little One won't judge so quickly, having been surrounded by genderless entities his whole life.
Suddenly, slithering appendage much like an octopus' tentacles appeared behind the tall creature and they reached for him. Little One glided out of reach, dancing away playfully. The tall creature tilted its head, seemingly confused by Little One's lack of fear. Then the blank face split to show a dark crescent full of teeth sharper than dragon's, opening it impossibly wide that its jaw looked unhinged. It let out a hiss of threat.
Little One giggled…
The tall one closed its mouth, obviously not expecting that particular reaction….
Feeling curious, Little One glide close to his new company and hissed in the language of the Dementors, 'Who are you?'
The Tall One, as Little One decided to call it, tilted its head before speaking in mortal language, though how it speak without opening its mouth was an enigma, asking Little One, "Why are you not afraid?"
Little One tilted his head, not knowing how to properly reply. He knew how to speak mortal but was a little rusty due to the fact that he seldom need to speak the mortal language. Scrambling his brain to reply, he settled for; "Should…I?"
His voice was more whisper and breathes than a proper voice, like the Tall One. The Tall One stared at him for a while before replying, "Strange…you don't smell like a child though you appeared as one…"
Little One hummed quietly before answering, "Not…mortal….all….not…all mortal…"
The Tall One seemed intrigued, "You are not a human child?"
Little One shook his head, "Mortal…but not…" He mentally sighed; this is hard to explain…
"Strange…" The Tall One seemed a little confused. Little One asked, "Who…you?"
The Tall One seemed to smile its crescent-like black smile, "I am the Slenderman,"
Little One nodded a little in recognition, "Little One…" Well, at least he can say his name without back tracking for the grammar.