A/N- I really liked writing this chapter, because I've been thinking about how dementors are made for a while now. However, you probably don't care about my personal life, so onto the chapter!
Disclaimer: I own HP in no possible way and this is a completely unauthorized fanfiction and by writing this in no way do I state that I own HP. Because I don't. Wait, didn't I already say that?
Hopeless- Chapter 3
Dementors don't dream. Did you know that? We relive memories from when we were made, but scientifically, we don't dream.
I know this because every night, instead of dreaming about unicorns and llamas, I relive when I was made. Not born, but made, like Frankenstein (DEMENTORSTEIN). There were no balloons, no cake, and certainly no pointy hats. Maybe I had that, in another life. If I did, I don't have any recollection of that.
A dementor is made, simply, when a dementor sucks out more than the soul of the victim. They suck out the memories, the emotions, the independent thought, the will to live, and every little bit of individuality they posses. They take out so much that the owner is less than a shell, barely more than a corpse. Only the sheer will to cause misery keeps dementors going, when all they want is to lie down and never get back up.
That's exactly what I was thinking when a beautiful girl was brought in through the front entrance, writhing and screaming. How long it would take to turn her into a monster.