The Kiss of Death
Disclaimer: The Dark Lady belongs to me. Everyone else belongs officially to J.K. Rowling. This is a plot bunny that bit me when I was rereading the fourth book.it's my theory about the creation of the dementors.enjoy!
Author's Notes: Sorry this took so long.::grins sheepishly:: I kind of forgot it.
Part 2: Secrets of Dementra
"Whoa.back up a minute." Ron said. "You mean dear old Salazar had three kids?"
Hermione nodded. "Three legitimate ones, anyway. Nobody's sure if he had any illegitimate children or not."
"Bloody hell."
"Language, Ron."
"Sorry."
Harry shook his head. "This is just too weird."
Ron nodded. "I agree."
"Really? I think it's quite interesting.
Ron rolled his eyes. "You would."
Harry held up a hand for silence. "Ok, so if Slytherin had three daughters, which one was Voldemort's ancestor?"
"Don't. Say. That. Name!" Ron hissed through clenched teeth. Harry ignored him.
"Cassandra. The youngest."
"How do you know?" Harry asked.
Hermione ticked the three girls off on her fingers. "Dementra never had any children. Brianna-the middle child-was murdered by Dementra when Dementra was twenty and Brianna was eighteen. Cassandra married happily and had twin children-a boy, Arthur, and a girl, Morgan. Morgan lived 'happily ever after,' but Arthur was one of dear old Aunt Dementra's victims."
Harry shuddered. "Sorry I asked."
Ron was gaping at Hermione. "You found all this out from the diary?"
Hermione nodded. "Fascinating things, diaries, aren't they?"
Ron threw up his hands in defeat. "I give up!"
Harry laughed. "Touché, touché. You go, girl! Hermione: one. Ron: zip. Zilch. Nada. Niente-"
Ron threw a pillow at Harry. "Shut up!"
Harry grinned wickedly and winked at Hermione. "Make me." Ron threw another pillow at Harry. Harry caught it and threw it back. In short, pillows were flying everywhere in under ten seconds, as the rest of the 6th year Gryffindor guys decided to join in.
Hermione rolled her eyes and threw her hands up into the air in exasperation. "Boys!" she muttered. There were chorused shouts of, "Hey!" "Take that back!" and other such choice remarks. Someone threw a pillow at her. She threw it back. Within five seconds, she was in the thick of things. The diary lay, forgotten, on a table.
Forgotten, except for one person.
The ghost of a woman in her late twenties to mid thirties slid, unnoticed, through the walls of the Gryffindor common room. She picked up her old diary and began to page through it. She stopped at a point somewhere around her sixteenth birthday. Still unnoticed, she read over that page, a thoughtful, nostalgic expression on her face. She heard the sounds of the pillow fight behind her as if in a different world. She clenched her fists, wishing her past could be erased. What could she do? The girl already knew too much. She could rip out the offensive pages and wipe the girl's memory of them, but that took too much effort. She wasn't even sure her powers would still work. That left only one choice.
Contact.
Disclaimer: The Dark Lady belongs to me. Everyone else belongs officially to J.K. Rowling. This is a plot bunny that bit me when I was rereading the fourth book.it's my theory about the creation of the dementors.enjoy!
Author's Notes: Sorry this took so long.::grins sheepishly:: I kind of forgot it.
Part 2: Secrets of Dementra
"Whoa.back up a minute." Ron said. "You mean dear old Salazar had three kids?"
Hermione nodded. "Three legitimate ones, anyway. Nobody's sure if he had any illegitimate children or not."
"Bloody hell."
"Language, Ron."
"Sorry."
Harry shook his head. "This is just too weird."
Ron nodded. "I agree."
"Really? I think it's quite interesting.
Ron rolled his eyes. "You would."
Harry held up a hand for silence. "Ok, so if Slytherin had three daughters, which one was Voldemort's ancestor?"
"Don't. Say. That. Name!" Ron hissed through clenched teeth. Harry ignored him.
"Cassandra. The youngest."
"How do you know?" Harry asked.
Hermione ticked the three girls off on her fingers. "Dementra never had any children. Brianna-the middle child-was murdered by Dementra when Dementra was twenty and Brianna was eighteen. Cassandra married happily and had twin children-a boy, Arthur, and a girl, Morgan. Morgan lived 'happily ever after,' but Arthur was one of dear old Aunt Dementra's victims."
Harry shuddered. "Sorry I asked."
Ron was gaping at Hermione. "You found all this out from the diary?"
Hermione nodded. "Fascinating things, diaries, aren't they?"
Ron threw up his hands in defeat. "I give up!"
Harry laughed. "Touché, touché. You go, girl! Hermione: one. Ron: zip. Zilch. Nada. Niente-"
Ron threw a pillow at Harry. "Shut up!"
Harry grinned wickedly and winked at Hermione. "Make me." Ron threw another pillow at Harry. Harry caught it and threw it back. In short, pillows were flying everywhere in under ten seconds, as the rest of the 6th year Gryffindor guys decided to join in.
Hermione rolled her eyes and threw her hands up into the air in exasperation. "Boys!" she muttered. There were chorused shouts of, "Hey!" "Take that back!" and other such choice remarks. Someone threw a pillow at her. She threw it back. Within five seconds, she was in the thick of things. The diary lay, forgotten, on a table.
Forgotten, except for one person.
The ghost of a woman in her late twenties to mid thirties slid, unnoticed, through the walls of the Gryffindor common room. She picked up her old diary and began to page through it. She stopped at a point somewhere around her sixteenth birthday. Still unnoticed, she read over that page, a thoughtful, nostalgic expression on her face. She heard the sounds of the pillow fight behind her as if in a different world. She clenched her fists, wishing her past could be erased. What could she do? The girl already knew too much. She could rip out the offensive pages and wipe the girl's memory of them, but that took too much effort. She wasn't even sure her powers would still work. That left only one choice.
Contact.