Harry Potter is property of JK Rowling. I write this out of pure personal pleasure, and the desire to bring happiness to other fans. And my pockets don´t want anything in return. Thanks.
Warning: This story contains yaoi, it means love between men. As much as drama and suffering, supernatural creatures and sex related scenes.
Summary: When seven years after the war, Draco Malfoy escapes from his cell in Azkaban, the ministry has no choice but to send his best Auror, Harry Potter, to capture him again. Between the walls of the world's toughest prison, Harry will discover not only the origin of the most terrifying creatures, but a love against time.
Note: So much thanks for your reviews. ^^
TroMin: This chapter is about the curse in fact ;) I hope you like it.
Yueli: I´m happy you like my fic. ^^ So here you have a new chapter, I hope you find it good. ;)
Dementor Kiss
Chapter 11 - Secrets.
Hermione, dragged by curiosity, broke the wrapping paper.
"My Journal" And was signed; "Godric Gryffindor"
Her breath choked a moment.
"The Journal of Godric Gryffindor ..."
Waking up that morning was like rediscovering life. Every little detail glowed with a new quality and a powerful charm, that made him want to live as he hadn´t desired for years.
Perhaps along his existence in Azkaban, slowly and gradually, almost without realizing, he had been losing the will to fight, and the desire to move forward had been eroding to end in the simple, primordial survival craving, that has everything living. So much so, that in the end, life itself almost had ceased to matter.
But that night, somehow, being in the arms of Harry, feeling his warmth, his desire... all that he was, Draco had found something really worth living for. Someone who, even being cursed, and thrust into hell, even having lost all that he had, on many more levels than just the physical could cover, made him felt that in spite of everything, he could be happy. Harry, for a few hours, had made him feel real and truly happy. And that was something worth living for.
He turned on his back with a smile, without opening his eyes, and extended a hand hoping to find the warm body of the Auror, but his fingers only found blankets still warmth from his skin.
Perplexed, gray eyes opened slowly.
"Harry?" – His voice barely whispered, still half in the clutches of sleep. The blankets were empty. And his heart fell a bit, even as he looked around, but the Auror wasn´t in the room. Draco swallowed, trying to squash the worry. There were thousands of reasons for Harry to have to leave. No?
An angry little voice, which he recognized as his pride, started yelling that there was no reason good enough for his partner to go away, out of bed, the morning after their first night together. And Draco was starting to get angry, when his gaze fell in a folded sheet resting on the pillow.
He almost fell from over his haste to take it.
Took a deep breath and smiled shakily, as he recognized the aurors handwriting.
"To Viely" was written in his characteristic disorder with simple black ink, on a sheet of parchment so white; he must have conjured it especially for Draco. His finger ran over the paper gently, feeling warm and almost giddy with joy. And unfolded the note:
"Viely, you can´t even imagine how many times I've rewritten this before getting a half decent attempt." – Draco smiled, imagining the Auror all frustrated with the sheet he was holding, and smiled.- "Truth is that I started writing just to tell you that I had to go and continue with the investigation. I will return this afternoon. (You slept so soundly that I didn´t want to wake you.) But when picking up the feather I discovered a thousand things to say. So many that it all came over in an incomprehensible mess. Several attempts only brought the same result. Why it´s so difficult? In the end I decided it would be best to make it as simple as possible, otherwise I wouldn´t ever finish."- Draco knew Harry would have been smiling when writing this. - "I love you." - Those two words made, for a moment, the world tilt. "Harry ... loves me." His heart jumped, his cheeks reddened. "Harry loves me." His breath quickened, his eyes widened. "Harry loves me!" Tears started rolling down his cheeks; Draco pressed the paper against his chest. "HARRY LOVES ME!" He doubled over and began to cry in earnest. Felt the almost irresistible urge to run after him, to tell Harry that he too ...
"I ... love him." His heart throbbed finally admitting what he had been trying to evade. "I'm in love. In love with Harry." His hand crept toward his mouth stifling the words.
"I love him." - Weak murmured, broken, words.
That changed everything. Harry hated lies. Merlin, he even asked the Sorting Hat to put him in Gryffindor, shunning slytherin! -"If he finds that I've been lying ... he would hate me. No, he hates me. If he learns about it, it will be much, much worse; he will not want to even look at me. Ever!" -Draco swallowed convulsively. What could he do? He couldn´t lose Harry! He couldn´t bear even thinking about it. Draco knew that if he saw once the spark of hate in those green eyes he loved so much, he would shatter.
Until now Draco had endured thanks to Blaise, Pansy, and his unwavering decision to go on. But now he had found Harry, and finally admitted his feelings, the warm auror had become the center of his world. If he leaved, if Harry departed from him, Draco wouldn´t be able to resist as before. He would break as a glass figure that hits the ground.
He had only one exit.
"I have ... I have to tell the truth."
The guardroom was empty except for her. Henry and Tomas were supposedly in their rooms. And Ron and Harry investigating.
The fireplace was the only source of light, orange flames that changed merrily the game of lights and shadows dancing on the book she held.
"The Journal of Godric Gryffindor."
Hermione stood sitting on her mattress in front of the fireplace. The thick book resting on her lap. Her mind pondering if she should or not, try to read it. Reading the diary of someone else, didn´t seem ethical. But then, perhaps, it contained the information she needed. And anyway MacGonagal had judged her worthy of the responsibility. Although still remained the issue of it not being hers. Her brow wrinkled determinedly.
"Okay. Just read what you need and avoid anything that seems too personal." In addition MacGonagal had said that only someone worthy could read it. If Griffindor put that spell, he probably already knew that his diary would be read. So actually invading his privacy wouldn´t be so wrong, right? Mione grabbed the tape and opened it before she got a chance at changing her mind.
"A blank page ..." - the paper yellowed by time was blank. There was nothing written. Or it hadn´t been until a moment ago. Elegant gold letters slowly began to creep in to the page, as written by an invisible hand.
"Good night, Miss Granger."
Mione got startled. That was too close to Voldemort's Horcrux diary.
"Ja, ja, ja. I'm Not a Horcrux. Merely a book with a lot more intelligence than most."
"Are you reading my mind?" – She didn´t know whether to feel outraged or fascinated by the complexity of the object.
"Only your surface thoughts. And before you ask any more questions, maybe you should think about the Sorting Hat and its intelligence. You didn´t believe that it was was the only sentient object Godric made, did you?"
Hermione thought for a moment. She sensed no dark magic in the object, and it was send by MacGonagal herself. So…
She nodded.
"All right. You are a very smart book."
"Created by Godric Gryffindor to protect his memories."
Hermione raised an eyebrow.
"You are a little cocky, right?"
"... Well. I don´t usually have many opportunities to talk to anyone."
Mione further raised her eyebrow.
"Okay, okay. Suppose you wanted to know something, right?"
The Auror nodded. What to ask first? She decided to start over with what had caught her attention in recent days. With the debt she owed.
"Could you tell me about the dementors? All the information I've found is incomplete. Any help would be appreciated."
The page remained blank for a moment.
"... You don´t make little demands, e? Alright, I see that your curiosity is sincere and that you harbor in your heart no more than good intentions. So I'll tell you."
Mione read stunned, as the missing story slowly unraveled before her. The story of the Dementors, the Dark Lord that led them, and how had been lost all knowledge of them.
"Early in the society of magicians, centuries before the birth of my creator, all the large culture of witches and wizards, was beginning to take the shape that would end up with. And with the popular election of the first leader, who later became known as the prime minister of magic, also emerged the first laws and rules, and the beginning of what would become the ministry.
Magic is a great power that requires great responsibility. The leader and his council knew that with no punishment to fear, there would be many wizards who would not hesitate to use this gift to commit monstrous crimes.
So he sought a punishment so terrible, so awful, it would prevent any such intentions.
Nobody really knows how it was created. But yes what finally emerged from that search.
The Dementor curse.
You might not know, but it was previously thought that the magic of a wizard went to another body when he died, and was reborn in a new shape. No memories or experiences, of course, but their magical essence. This was how the birth of muggleborns was explained. When there was no magical child waiting to be born, the magical essence sought other appropriate receptacle. So even if he died, a wizard would remain forever in an endless cycle of birth and death.
That´s why the Dementor's curse is a so terrible punishment.
This curse is the origin of the creatures known as Dementors. Reserved only for the darkest and corruptest criminals, for those whose essence had been so tainted that even rebirth wouldn´t clean it.
It's a curse that captures the essence of the wizard and literally melts it in your flesh. Makes from it a single entity incapable of dying. Forever trapped in a living hell. The body twists and corrupts reflecting what corrodes the spirit. You lose the ability to do magic, because it will no longer responds trapped in your own flesh. An aura of terror and horror surround you, making people shy away from you. See you as a monster. The panic is such that your words will only come as terrifying hisses, leaving the bearer forever alone. Accompanied only by those who are like him. Having to see them every day and remember, thanks to your own deformed appearance, the crimes committed. Knowing that you will never be free of it, because you cannot die.
This new creature ate only one thing, souls. Only when devouring one they felt alive again, accompanied, and the loneliness vanished briefly. They devoured happy memories to replace those they could never have. Extending the coldness of death in life all around them, the victims, in so terrible distress, finally losing their sanity.
Ironically the only thing able to scare them was the physical form of these memories. The Patronus. Its purity caused them the anguish of recalling their own happy lost memories.
The leader and his council thought quite well. Not only were they punishing dark wizards, setting an example for all people. But they also had created the perfect guardian. A tireless fearsome creature, whose food could also be used as punishment. Your soul devoured by one of them. A punishment considered more desirable than becoming one of them. So your magical essence could escape untouched to find a new reincarnation.
They created a device that allowed the control of the creatures, and confined them to a single place in the world. Azkaban. From that instant, the island became the prison of the wizarding world, and his more frightening place.
Centuries later it was time for my creator, Godric Gryffindor. Godric was a very powerful wizard of great kindness. He had good friends, a wife who loved him and two children he cherished with his soul. Griever and Garta. Two guys who had the great magical potential and values of his father. Two young men who did fill Godric with pride.
But ...
The power in large measures can corrupt, and Garta and Griever had everything. Power, money, nobility, the admiration of all.
But Griever wanted more. He began to search in dark magic how to be even more powerful. With his alchemy and research developed a ritual that allowed him to absorb the magical essence of others. He killed his mother in the realization of this terrible dark ritual, almost succeeded in murdering his brother, and if he would have succeeded, Griever would have had the power to defeat his father, devour his magic, and become the most powerful dark wizard ever born. However Garta, even if he could not save his mother, and wounded almost to death, managed to reach and warn Godric.
Great was the pain of Gryffindor to know what monster had become his son. But even greater was his sense of duty. He found Griever, hiding in a dark nest that he had created in the bowels of what had been their home. Godric challenged Griever.
The battle was terrible. It opened the earth and made the heavens flash, it created enormous columns of raging fire, monstrous waves, rays that destroyed everything in their path. .. But finally Godric was the conqueror.
His sense of justice led him to take his son to the minister, so he could be fairly tried for his crimes.
Griever was sentenced to the Dementors curse.
His own father spoke the curse before the council of wizards. Although there were tears in his eyes, Godric's voice never wavered while weaving the fate of his son with his magic.
But even as a dementor Griever had such power that he was able to overcome the curse minimally. Retaining as unique human characteristic, his voice.
The ministry saw this as an even more effective way to handle the Dementors, thus having an interpreter capable of communicating with both sides. Soon the new monster took over the leadership of the terrible creatures. Who were among them more powerful, or darker than him?
Thus was born the Dementor Lord. The last of the Dementors.
After that Godric decided to end the use of the curse. Because despite everything, he still loved his son, and would have wanted for him to have a chance to reborn. Even if his soul were stained, he believed it could have been cleaned have it had a second chance. Opportunity none of the Dementors had had.
His reasoning, presented to the ministry, along with a long campaign that brought the magical world in his favor, besides the weight of his name, finally made the curse of the dementor be banned.
Any information on it removed.
The few texts that detailed it, belonging, of course, to the ministry, destroyed. It had been decided to make it disappear completely. Because who could claim that something so terrible could not end, one day, falling into the wrong hands?
That´s how with time, and the ban that prevented anyone from writing about it, all knowledge of its existence was forgotten. And the Dementors came to be seen as dark creatures themselves, without any human origin. "
Hermione didn´t know how to feel. She had just been presented with information that had been lost for centuries! But something suddenly came to her mind.
"So what´s a white dementor?"
"A white dementor is someone under the curse. Someone who is becoming one."
Mione had a terrible feeling.
"Does the curse need blood?"
"Yes. The blood of someone with a strong bond with the victim. A relative, or ...
"Or your best friend."
"The white dementor is Malfoy."
It will continue.