She was cold now. Very, very cold as she looked around at the
creatures. They shifted, surrounding her completely. As much as she
wished to, she would not allow herself to give in to the fear steadily
leaking into her heart. They were hungry, she realized. They stood
like…like puppys waiting for a meal that they could not receive. No, she
thought, your meal will not…can not come from me. Slowly, she turned to
the tallest and blackest dementor.
"You should not be here."
She was surprised at her squeaky voice, speaking to something so much more powerful than herself. Could she defend herself if it came to an attack? She doubted it very much. That was it then, she was at their mercy, if they had any. The dementor's robe rustled. . The rain beat down on them, the dementors looked like ghosts in the rain. Black ghosts. It said nothing, she didn't think that they could even speak, but she got the overwhelming feeling of starvation. Relive your worst memories, she remembered vaguely, but she had never been starving like this, this empty hole that seemed to eat you up from the inside. Suddenly she remembered traveling to India with her mother when she was very small. She was six or seven, and her mother had left her to her own devices at the town fountain, telling her to stay right where she was and not to drink any of the water. It had been during an epidemic of tuberculosis, and people lay all around in cots or blankets, calling out for food, or water, or help. No one could give it to them, it was the worst five minutes of her life, and she hadn't even been sick. She still remembered it in her dreams, and now, though the memories were not her own, she could feel the fever eating at her, and the starvation slowly killing her. She finally understood. The dementors were starving. She wiped leaky eyes and composed himself. She almost felt sorry for these…these things. Staightening, she said,
"No, you can't have me."
The dementor cocked his head, she could see it through the hood. It was…odd to have something that was not alive and not dead to look at her like that. Professer McGonagal had given her that same look. A small part of her giggled, it looked like Snape when someone unexpected answered a question correctly. A roar issued from the stadium, and all heads snapped to attention. As one swift movement, all of the dementors began to make their way to the high running emotions.
"No!"
All stopped and turned to her.
"Don't go there, they'll kill you!"
She was swept with the need and wish to rest. They wanted to be dead. It was the only thing they wanted. As she fell into a faint, she watched them slowly drift to the stadium.
"You should not be here."
She was surprised at her squeaky voice, speaking to something so much more powerful than herself. Could she defend herself if it came to an attack? She doubted it very much. That was it then, she was at their mercy, if they had any. The dementor's robe rustled. . The rain beat down on them, the dementors looked like ghosts in the rain. Black ghosts. It said nothing, she didn't think that they could even speak, but she got the overwhelming feeling of starvation. Relive your worst memories, she remembered vaguely, but she had never been starving like this, this empty hole that seemed to eat you up from the inside. Suddenly she remembered traveling to India with her mother when she was very small. She was six or seven, and her mother had left her to her own devices at the town fountain, telling her to stay right where she was and not to drink any of the water. It had been during an epidemic of tuberculosis, and people lay all around in cots or blankets, calling out for food, or water, or help. No one could give it to them, it was the worst five minutes of her life, and she hadn't even been sick. She still remembered it in her dreams, and now, though the memories were not her own, she could feel the fever eating at her, and the starvation slowly killing her. She finally understood. The dementors were starving. She wiped leaky eyes and composed himself. She almost felt sorry for these…these things. Staightening, she said,
"No, you can't have me."
The dementor cocked his head, she could see it through the hood. It was…odd to have something that was not alive and not dead to look at her like that. Professer McGonagal had given her that same look. A small part of her giggled, it looked like Snape when someone unexpected answered a question correctly. A roar issued from the stadium, and all heads snapped to attention. As one swift movement, all of the dementors began to make their way to the high running emotions.
"No!"
All stopped and turned to her.
"Don't go there, they'll kill you!"
She was swept with the need and wish to rest. They wanted to be dead. It was the only thing they wanted. As she fell into a faint, she watched them slowly drift to the stadium.