Magic Knows No Boundaries But Those We Believe In (Harry Potter)

[NonsensicalRants]

Interlude

The Cloak: Part 1
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November 18th, 2006:
Department of Mysteries, Britain
Death Chamber:​

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"Alright que up the next ward scheme." Head unspeakable Nicholas Flamel commanded.

Harry exited the ward circle and walked to stand beside the veil, removing his cloak for what must have been the hundredth time.

"One hundred and forty six, actually." Brain corrected him.

Harry glared at the hooded figure. It bothered him immensely to know there was even one person on the planet who could read the minds of any person in their Presence, completely ignoring any occlumency berriers. He was called Brain, a codename obviously, and had been head of the brain room for over forty years. Spend that much time studying the mind and you're bound to discover secrets of legilimacy that put Dumbledore and Voldemort's claim of mastery into the category of "Childs play."

Out of all the unspeakables who wanted Harry to join the DOM, Brain wanted him the most. Not because of his developing extrasensory ability, but because he believed his mind was particularly suited for the mind arts.(Despite Harry's insistence that it was decidedly NOT.) His own terrible experience was enough to convince Harry not to accept the offer. The fact the man both terrified him and confused him didn't warm him up to the idea either.

The real clincher was when he explained that he had mastered legilimacy to the point of being able to imitate a basilisks glare. Which, it turns out, is nothing more than using the mind arts to hijack your brain and shut down your nervous system, or heart like some Buddhist monks can do to themselves through meditation. You had to master doing the latter to yourself before being able to do the former to others. As a result of this he could also, incredibly, stare a real-life basilisk directly in the eyes and be completely unaffected by it.

Dumbledore? Snape? Voldemort? Posers!

"Well that's honestly the last set of detection and repellant wards we could think to try and find you under that cloak, Harry." Bill told him.

"We 'ave tried everything." Fleur added.

"Not everything." Hermione, the only actual unspeakable amongst Harry's group, countered. "Now we just throw random wards against the wall and see what sticks."

She was right of course. When wards designed to detect and repel people and different types of human magic failed to detect somebody beneath the cloak of death, then it was high time to think outside of the box. So they moved on to snow repelling, ash repelling, sandstorm repelling and more meteorological based wards. From there they went through the list of animal and insect repelling wards, plants-growth and weed prevention wards, and even food repelling wards - usually used in libraries or theaters to prevent people from sneaking anything in, or from making spills.
They had been at it for ten whole hours when they finally hit a breakthrough. And what a violent breakthrough it was.

The moment he stepped a foot through the chalk outline marking the ward he was thrown violently from his feet to land at Love's feet as the room echoed with the alarm Bill and Fleur had setup. Love and Prophecy helped Harry back up to his feet and he promptly threw the cloak aside to catch his breath.

"Wow. Next time warn me when you add a full-body numbing charm to your ward would you?!" Harry glared at Bill.

But Bill, Fleur and Hermione were looking at him with a strange mixture of confusion, fear and disgust.

"Could you... try that again." Hermione asked before hastily adding. "We'll setup a net to catch you this time."

They setup said net and, as soon as Harry could feel his fingers again, he walked through the ward for a second time to the exact same result as the first time.

"That really does sting Hermione." Harry groaned as she helped him back up. "What ward even is that?"

He was half-angry at the unpleasantness of it and half amazed that something actually detected him while under the cloak.

But Bill, Fleur and Hermione were tight lipped. Sharing a concerned look.

"Did we accidentally make some kind of modification to the scheme? There's no way it should detect him." Bill asked.

"Mr Weasley, I think we would all very much like to know what ward it is you just setup in my department." Nicholas interrupted. "You've kept us in suspense for long enough."

Bill nodded and hesitantly answered.

"Inferi ward." He said.

Harry felt his blood run cold. Zombie. Undead. Shambling corpse. If the ward was working correctly, it meant Harry Potter was, according to magic, dead when he put the cloak on. It wasn't a ward people encountered every day, or ever in Harry's case. Harry HAD been struck by the killing curse twice in his life. So it was entirely possible that the ward wasn't detecting the cloak, but Harry himself. That whatever his mother had done had left him, technically, undead.

Which actually did explain how he was able to survive the killing curse. Twice. After all, it didn't work on vampires, or zombies or ghosts, for obvious reasons.

"Easy way to test that." Harry groused as he tossed the cloak aside and walked back up to the ward.

He took a deep breath and stepped through, before letting the breath out when no alarms rang and he remained standing. He allowed himself a sigh of relief.

"Throw me the cloak." He demanded.

Hermione obliged and tossed it to him. To all of their surprise it passed right through the ward and Harry caught it deftly.

So. It wasn't the cloak making the ward go off. And it wasn't Harry. So the only thing left to confirm is if it's a combination of the two that did the trick. And so Harry combined the two. When he next regained consciousness it was to be informed that the ward and flung him straight up into the air and that his landing was less than pleasant. Typical.

They repeated the experiment several more times with the many different wards designed for inferi. Each ended with the same result. As did the wards designed for ghosts, poltergeists and vampires.

"Let's call it quits for the day." Harry finally said. "I have bruises on my bruises."

They decided to start again the next day.

---

From there the investigation on the cloak became more laboratory based as they tested theory after theory.

"If it's just masking your magical signature and making it appear like that of a corpse or undead, then we should be able to detect the enchantments that make the change." Filius theorized once they invited him in to help. "Or else detect the change the moment it happens."

And so began their attempts at detecting the magic within the cloak. It failed just as with all prior attempts to find any charms or enchantments on the hollow. Their attempt to detect when the change happened was much more successful. They just put up a ward to detect humans and overlayed a ward to detect inferi. The moment the human-detection ward ceased, the inferi one started. But the devices meant to detect any magical residue at the moment of the change came up with nothing.

They tried again with every combination of wards for detecting Harry Potter the living, breathing human and Harry Potter the corpse. Male detection with ghost detection, adult detection to poltergeist detection. All of the them succeeded in detecting both hims, but none allowed them to find the change.

"You know it's entirely possible that there's a runic array on the cloak that only appears when it's active." Said Hermione. "But we just can't see them because it's... you know, invisible."
And so Harry returned to the tiny grave he'd created for Alastor Moody so many years ago and retrieved his nearly pristine eye. After returning to the DOM he gave it a quick cleaning to the handed it off to the unspeakables to examine.

"Uuuuum. We have a problem." Prophecy said after running his thumb on the back of it.

He handed it back to Harry and made him run his thumb over the back of it as well. There was something carved there, shallow grooves Harry hadn't noticed before.

They added ink to the grooves and confirmed the shape they had felt. A triangle containing a circle containing a line.

"... Well of course!" Harry said in exasperation.

"Wait. So there are four Hollows?!" Hermione concluded.

"Likely many more than that." Suggested Space. "How many, we don't know."

Harry pondered this.

"Likely every single thing mentioned in tales of Needle the Bard." He concluded. "So the Pot, the Fountain, The Hairy Heart - or maybe the glass prison that contained the heart, and whatever allowed Babbitt to transform and retain the ability to speak. Likely all slightly or greatly different from how they appeared in the story."

There were no counterarguments. The fact that the tale of the three brothers turned out to be somewhat true was enough to add credence to the other stories.

"But the eye wasn't mentioned in any of them." Said Hermione.

"Which means there may be quite a few more than those in the book." Death countered.

This was concerning.

"If you will allow me to make pure conjecture." Prophecy began. "Perhaps other myths and legends of impossible magical artifacts may hold water? I always thought Alastor's eye reminded me of that used by the sisters Graeae."

Brain hummed.

"So should we start looking for a tooth next?" he asked.

"Possibly winged sandals, a cap and a sword as well." Harry offered. "Although we should be careful not to double count. In all likelihood the hollows spawned many myths since their creation. Which I am beginning to think was much longer ago than near the founding of Hogwarts "

There were, after all, plenty of legendary swords around the world. And just as the elder wand spawned many myths of different wands that were, in fact, the same wand others could all turn out to be the same object of power. If there were many more hollows then the three brothers had predecessors, masters even. This was starting to paint a picture of some unseen order of enchanters, a secret fraternal society of some sort, and the sign of the deathly hollows their insignia. Were they still around? had they made more wondrous and terrible things since the three hollows or were the Peverrals the last of their line?

They moved onto the experiment proper, and ran into the first problem. Using the eye required one be MISSING an eye. Well, not really, you could hold it up to your face and squint but it was hardly effective. But it turned out Prophecy was missing two.

"I blinded myself in order to better delve into my second sight." He explained as he removed his eye patches and placed the fourth Hollow into one of his obscured eye sockets.

Harry wondered why the man hadn't simply started wearing a blindfold instead of going to such an extreme, but if wizards were sensible he never would have beaten Voldemort so he held his tongue.

Once Prophecy put Moodys eye firmly into place it took him a few minutes to get used to it. It was doubtlessly difficult to keep it from spinning around against the users will, and being able to see through physical matter was certainly a means of sight nobody is used to.

"I can't imagine how bizarre this would be for somebody born blind." Prophecy bemoaned before they went on with the experiment.

It did not bare any fruit either. According to Prophecy the cloak looked no different to the magical eye when it was active or not. So they broke it off for another day and went back to the drawing board.

---

Harry left the cloak and eye with the Department of Mysteries with promises that they'd return them later. And over the next week he left them to their work while he, Filius, Fleur, Bill and Viktor set about a separate task.

Hunting for additional Hollows.

Fleur and Viktor shared many a story from their homeland and Bill shared several more fairy tales not written by Beedle the Bard. Including a Weasley exclusive story about a toad phoenix, a being that threw up its own stomach - as toads are known to do - and in doing so was reborn from the viscera. Gross, but plausible. Hell, he was already coming up with ideas about how such a creature could be born and how it might be related to the toad involved in creating a basilisk and an actual phoenix.

They each went their separate ways in search of Hollows, but Harry was the only one to succeed. It took him a day, as it was the first object to occur to him as a possible Hollow.

"See Filius, right here. Feel that groove? Now follow it up. Now it goes back down. It's a triangle. Then the circle. And a line. It's a Hollow." Harry showed the diminutive professor.

The carving on the object this time was almost as large as Harry, so he had to lift the half-goblin so he could see for himself.

"Remarkable! And how did you know it was one?" He asked.

"Simple. It reminded me so much of the stone. As if they were twins, or if one was the prototype for the other." Harry explained as he walked back to stare at the front side of the Mirror of Erised. "In the same way as the eye and cloak seem to be siblings, or foils."

Filius nodded. It did make sense.

"Do you think the cloak and eye are made by the same person? And the mirror was made by the same person as the stone?" Filius asked.

Harry shook his head.

"No. If I'm being honest, the three hollows seem... Almost masculine in their design. Simple, functional, undecorated. The mirror and eye? They are the work of artisans. Beautiful, not as powerful but with much more care put into their design. More detailed." Harry explained. "I have no further reason for thinking this, but if the Peveral brothers created the three Hollows proper, well, like attracts like and surely their wives wouldn't have just sat around and let their husbands one up them. They surely would have been prodigies in their own right, even if their names are lost to time. This is of course, a fantasy, and I'm just talking from imagination here. It could have been made by their own children, or they could have made them in later years themselves."

He rather liked the idea of Ignotus inventing the perfect invisibility cloak, only for his wife to create a foil for it. Probably out of jealousy that he might be sneaking off to have an affair... Yeah, that's what he was going to tell people. A separate story to the three brothers about their wives. He needed to get that one to Xenophilius.

"What about the wand?" Filius asked. "What of it's twin? What would be a companion to a wand?"

Harry had to think on that. A holster? No. The eye was an opposite to the cloak, and in its own way the mirror was an opposite to the ring. One could create images of ANY desire, but only the deepest desire, and only a vision of it. "Neither truth nor knowledge". The ring could bring shades of the dead, ANY dead, but nothing else. Shades capable of imparting quite a bit of knowledge and more interactive. Both very specific and very broad in opposite ways. So what was the opposite of a wand? What countered a wand?

"A broomstick maybe?" Bill suggested that night at dinner. "Best way to win a fight against a superior opponent is often to flee."

Harry disagreed. Not on the fleeing part, he'd done that plenty of times. But a broomstick or portkey could be foiled with a well-layed ward.

"A shield?" Offered Viktor.

"No. The elder wand is not merely an offensive weapon. It is a wand." Fleur explained redundantly. "It is our source of protection, and food, and transportation. It is our everything. It's counter would be... nothing."

Hermione perked up.

"Tell us what you figured out." Harry growled, wanting to skip the sputtering and thinking out loud.

"A dead zone, or object capable of creating a dead zone." She explained.

Harry didn't follow.

"If I wanted to counteract wands, or the elder wand specifically, I would seek to invent an object capable of suppressing all magic. A magical dead zone." She explained. "A ward capable of suppressing magic."

That rang true. And Harry knew of exactly one place with such a zone. And when the unspeakables were done with the latest tests of the cloak he retrieved it in preparation for retrieving the sixth Hollow.

---

Azkaban sucked. Even as visitors with an entire pack of patroni, it was awful.

The wizarding world had tried many times to vanish or destroy the dementors there, none had been successful. Not even with Harry wielding the elder wand at full power and being a savant with the spell. So they did the next best thing and abandoned the prison, moving everyone to a more humane facility.

The prison itself? It was under 24 hour guard by a rotating shift of aurors who kept the dementors contained with Patroni. It was almost a training ground to harden recruits and up their skill with the charm. A charm they always called Harry in to teach the new batch.

For at the bottom of the prison, in a sector nobody ever entered because the safety of guards and prisoners alike were impossible to guarantee, was the dead zone. A place were performing magic was impossible, as wands died upon entering, reviving upon returning to the surface. None had ever adventured deep as the dementors guarded it greedily and violently, as this was the place all true dementors were born, and they were finally going to figure out why.

Now he was invading the fortress again, with Filius, Bill, Fleur, Ron, Hermione, Draco and half of the department of mysteries. Somehow Dudley had heard what was going on and invited himself along.

"I want to confront these things. These things that hurt me so much that they healed me." Dudley explained.

It was a strange outlook. That somebody might benefit from dementor exposure was something nobody had even considered before, at least to Harry's knowledge. Perhaps if used sparingly, and controlled, they could almost become a form of... therapy for traumatic events? Something to look into later.

"Your mission is simple." Instructed Minister of Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt. "Enter the magical dead zone beneath the Azkaban, discover the source creating said dead zone and dementors, and retrieve it. Failing that, destroy it."

Simple he says. Why do even competent and experienced leaders underplay the gravity of situations?

Nearly every dementor in existence was in that prison, and thoroughly starved - They had hoped that might kill them. They were wrong. - and they were going to enter a place where they would not have the protection of patroni, or magic at all. Simple. Sure.

"Our guests should arrive momentarily." Viktor said.

Ah yes. Their trump card had just portkeyed onto the shore overlooking Azkaban. An army of deadly creatures that were the only thing, aside from the patronus and Phoenixes, that could counteract the Dementor's effects and whose flames could repel them somewhat. And who wouldn't be effected by the dead zone as it specifically effected wands and the magic created by wands.

Women. Nasty, temperamental, hormonal women. Of the Veela variety.

---

​

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[NonsensicalRants]

Interlude:

The Cloak: Part 2
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Azkaban Prison: November 2006
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"Appoline!" Harry called out as Fleur's mother approached with her lovely entourage.

The older Veela, who still looked like she could be Fleur's older sister, smiled graciously and genuinely as she sprinted up to him for an embrace. Ahhhh, warm fuzzies!

"Harry! Meet my very, VERY extended family." Appoline said as she motioned to the nearly oned hundred Veela behind her.

There were French Veela. There were Italian Veela. There were Russian Veela(Dear GOD! How were they SO hot?!). There were African Veela as dark as coal and as beautiful as diamonds. There were chatty American Veela, demure Thai Veela, stoic Aboriginal Veela and even one Ainu Veela who wore lipstick in such a way that it made her look like she had a creepy clown smile. Still pretty though.

"It's on days like these I resent my immunity to you ladies." Harry confessed. "If I were as glassy eyed as these fellas from you, I'd have nothing to fear from Dementors."

Ironically enough, the contingent of Aurors were holding up very well against the allure. Proper training and discipline will do that to men. Of course, they were under specific orders to LET the Veela allure affect them as they approached the island. Let the artificial love-potion-like effects keep them so emotionally preoccupied in their infatuation that the fear and cold of dementors won't reach them. Sadly, this was not an option for Harry.

"That brings up a good question." Susan interrupted, surrounded by here squad of lady Aurors. "What does that leave you and us with dementor resistance? Since Veela don't make us emotionally excited enough to resist the misery."

"Actually, they do, just not in the same way." Harry informed her. "You know that uncontrollable jealousy and resentment bubbling up in your chest by their mere presence? Yeah, that's not you being a petty bitch, that's their magic working on you. And don't discount burning envy and fiery rage, it may be enough to keep the cold and fear at bay."

Susan seemed unconvinced.

"That doesn't seem as pleasant as deep infatuation and giddiness." She complained. "I don't suppose you have male Veela with you, Delacour?"

"No such thing." Said Appoline. "Well, aside from the occasional mutant. But we haven't had one of those in a century and we always used to put them down at birth."

They all stared at her in horror.

"What?! I said it's been over a century!" She defended. "Besides, it's a mercy killing. The allure still only effects males and for some reason male relatives aren't immune as with normal Veela."

Oh god! Yeah, don't let that mutation spread. There are some birth defects worth mercy killing over, and one that makes your biological father feel lust and infatuation with his baby boy at no fault of his own is one of those. Magic was truly terrible sometimes.

"It is moot point. I have friend coming." Viktor told them.

Hermione turned on him.

"And this friend can make us emotionally resistant to dementors?" Susan asked.

"No. But HIS friend can." Viktor explained.

As if his words summoned them, a final entourage of allies portkeyed in. Even without the bright red, yellow and blue quidditch robes they all wore, Harry would have recognized the team of massive, tattooed Kiwis ten miles away. The entirety of the Moutahara Macaws stood before Azkaban, and they had brought with them their mascot, Sparky the phoenix.

"Vik-TOR!" Captain Hongi yelled, carrying Sparky on his leather-gloved arm like a falcon.

Australian phoenixes are big. While Fawkes was tall and slender, Sparky had a body similar to a pelican, but strongly resembling Fawks in the face. He also sported a vibrant blue steak along his back and on his crest feathers to compliment the usual red and gold.

The mystic bird took one look at Harry and pounced from Hongi's gloved hand to glide over at him. Harry would never admit it, but a phoenix charging him was enough to make him freeze. Nothing made Harry freeze, but this did. And it was for nothing, because all Sparky did was take up a perch on Harry's shoulder.

The rest of their contingent stared with a mixture of expressions that all amounted to boredom as Sparky settled in on his neas seat. Was Harry's life so chaotic that every increasingly surprising abnormality seemed more mundane with each new bizarreness? Yes. Yes it was.

"Because Harry Potter?" Viktor suggested.

"Yup. That's pretty much all there is to it at this point, eh?" Draco added.

Kingsley separated them into groups. All women, or individuals immune to the Veela allure, such as Harry, Brain and his highest students form the DOM, were put into one group with Sparky as their guardian. The remainder were all split into teams with their own Veela guard and apportioned Auror's based on their skill with the patronus. Love had their own platoon of members from his/her/its own department. Several of whom had gone through the same procedure to fuse into the Greek ideal of two people merged into an eight limbed, two headed abominations.
"I am afraid to ask." Said Hermione. "But why do you all not have Veela in your group? Or else, why are you not joining Harry's team?"

Despite being cloaked, Harry could sense both faces smiling at the innocent question.

"Because we are all immune to both the powers of the Veela, and the powers of dementors." The male head said.

"Plus, we make Harry uncomfortable, and we need him to focus." Said the female one with a wink at harry that he couldn't see but could somehow feel.

"How... How is that possible?" Dudley dared to ask.

The octopus double shrugged.

"When you are permanently bonded to the love of your life, it's easy to feed off of those most beautiful emotions even in the darkest depths of Azkaban." The male head said underneath their double hood. "And you know as well as we do, Harry, that Love is the most powerful force in the universe."

Harry shuddered, both at the creepy insinuation and the fact that it was true. Of all the departments, Love had the greatest claim on him save for maybe Death. Honestly? they all did. Subject of a prophecy, master of the deathly hollows, only know possessor of a mother's sacrificial protection? There's prophecy, death and love in one go. Add his odd extrasensory ability and Brain could throw his claim over Harry as a potential recruit too.

One by one they were sent off on oversized row boats, several dozen people a piece, with Harry's at the front.

He sat at the head of his team's boat, an oversized rowboat capable of seating all two dozen of then, while wielding his wandless patronus. The stag spirit animal cloaking him in such a way as to make him look like a wendigo of divine light. With Sparky the Phoenix on his shoulder he must have looked like the pure antithesis of evil.

With Sparky's warm comfort on his shoulder and Dudley's strength of character by his side combined made him feel like it too.

"And I thought I was a show off." Brain complained.

"Clearly, you do not spend enough time with our Harry, or else you'd know better." Hermione chided the cloaked man.

Harry strongly disagreed. But then again, and the formidable force of DOM fighters and the absolute harem of gorgeous, badass lady aurors - and Hermione - were also a huge moral boost.
Yeah, he was feeling pretty good about their chances.

Harry could only smirk as the boat propelled itself magically across the deceptively calm sea to the storm of cold and sadness that awaited them.

---

We are Unspeakables. It is not in our domain to make nor enforce law, nor to be a part of the machinations of politics. It is our domain to know.

Academics learn, but never know. Theory is the best they can achieve, though even then they stop at mere hypotheses or pure conjecture. We are better than them.

We seek to know truths, not facts nor opinions. The truth. What is it? That is the adventure. And it is a lonely journey, for our oath binds us, sows us down, preventing us from sharing with others who would help us on the path.

Do you accept this burden? This duty?

- Speach given by Purgatory, Head Unspeakable of afterlife research, to all new recruits.​

---

Father Time struggled back to his feet after tackling the Delacour woman to the ground.

The infiltration had gone well, with masters of the patronus taking the lead as they advanced.

But the foul creatures had changed in their starvation. Having started out somewhat resembling emaciated corpses, it was surprising to see that years of being cutoff from any food source had made them grown. The scabrous skin on their arms rippled over hidden forms that resembled femurs or tibias or ulnas stacked on top of each other. Like somebody had taken many such vibes from human corpses, made a faggot out of them, and wrapped it in filthy leather.

For a while they advanced unhindered, the patronus keeping them at bay while the other wizards conjured or transfigured methods of restraining them. You couldn't kill them, but you could chain them and cage them. And this method worked perfectly.

Until it didn't.

For dementors to be hungry enough to try and force their way through the protective barrier of light, and nearly succeed, meant they thoroughly misunderstood these creatures and their limits.
So Father Time took his opportunity to show the wizarding world the knowledge and power his department had uncovered, and cast that most devastating spell of his own discovery. The ball of greyish, rampaging mist left his want and straight into the center of the group of dementors.

When it struck he immediately realized something was wrong, and tackled the nearest person to the ground. Most of the rest went down with him.

Bad here he was, his skin tingling with he feeling of a thousand, burning ants. The ambient radiation in the air he could taste it, he recognized metallic taste of the chemo treatment from years ago.

The few other times he used this time altering magic to hyperage had always resulted in such an effect, an easily predictable one with any knowledge of atomic half-lives. Such magic was unpredictable, and he may have overdone it.

He meant to age the dementors and surroundings by a hundred years. He might have gotten it closer to ten thousand. With a half life of one hundred and fifty years, the silicates in the basalt making up the hallway it all decayed to near nonexistence, breaking down into a massive dose of beta radiation and lower elements in an instant. He shuddered to think how much gamma or alpha radiation might have been released by trace elements within the rocks and soil.

"What the hell was that?!" Apolline asked when she ducked back up from cover.

"An experiment." Father time told her. "I had an idea for a way to kill dementors, and that was it. Do you see a dementor anymore? Let alone ten?"

And indeed, the ten or more dementors they had come across were nothing more than a pile of hyper-decayed... stuff, littering the ground before them.

It was either the intense radiation, aging or actual starvation that did it. And because if his blunder with overdoing the spell he had no way of knowing which it was.

"Should we turn back?" Asked A young man in his department. "I don't know of any magic to clear away radioactive material safely."

Father Time did. It amounted to either coating the fallout in material, any material that can block the type of radiation in question such as paper for alpha radiation or cloth for beta. Aluminum would be better, but it is notoriously difficult to conjure or transfigured, nearly as much as copper silver and gold, and like all conductive materials reverted from the transfiguration shockingly fast.
"Yes. Clear out more paths and capture more dementors. The fewer there are to come after us when we descend into the dead zone..." Father Time stopped midspeach.

The piles of dead dementors twitched.

Then they wriggled.

They writhed, and expanded, and contracted and crawled over one another in what Father Time hoped wasn't an act of intimacy, for it was ugly. They the teeth came out. Sharp, jagged, broken teeth amongst a swarm of bony masses hidden beneath the leathery, scabrous skin of dementors. Then there's were the hands, too many fingered, too many jointed hands jutting out of any limb ending there was.

The teeth slid across the appendages to the center mass where they lined up like a zipper, a zipper that then opened to show the inside. Hunger. Ten or more millennia of hunger mutating the creatures in an instant into the monster before them.

So yeah, starvation, aging and intense radiation were not in fact fatal to dementors. Three things to add to the list of ways to not kill them.

"Should we call for..." A young American Veela tried to ask."

"Call for Harry Potter? Yes." Father Time confirmed, with zero damage to his pride.

They just needed to hold out until he got here.

---

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