Dementors!
Who: Eddie Carmichael; Remus Lupin and Aurors Jones, Tonks, Bole and MacLachlan (open to other Aurors).
What: Dementors work to kill a lot of Muggles, but why? A mystery begins.
When: Roughly 9:00pm; Saturday November 8th 1997.
Where: Just outside Diagon Alley, in Muggle London.
Status: Ongoing
With the rain letting up from earlier in the day, Eddie decided to walk home rather than simply apparate. He missed Stepps Village, and its relative simplicity. It was a commuter town to Glasgow, which was as quirky and cosmopolitan as London. There were times, though, that Eddie felt very out of place in London. A life in the suburbs preceded seven years of rural isolation at Hogwarts and Hogsmeade. Moving to London had been a very big and scary step.
Still, while Eddie strode home out of the Leaky Cauldron after having a butterbeer under the ever-watchful gaze of Tom, he could feel like London was trying to grow on him. Sure it sometimes felt like a lonely place. But there was culture all around him.
I should go to a museum. And see art... Eddie thought while he pat a plastic-bagged mag against his palm. He barely registered the chill that ran down his back and raised the hair on the back of his neck.
The windows to the small flower shop Eddie passed frosted over, ice crystals growing in beautiful lattices across the glass. The sodium lamps above flickered their garish yellow lighting, their buzz echoing in the street. Fog began to move in, licking first at the heels of passerbys of which there were few.
Eddie stepped up to his building and gripped the frost-covered door latch. It was now, as he brought his cold, dampened hand away from the latch did Eddie have an inkling. He felt... cold. He shivered, and huddled his arms around himself. He sighed heavily, his mood inexplicably diminished. As he tapped for the elevator, he rolled his eyes. The day had been great, up until now. Eddie decided that he just wanted to go to bed and forget...
Another chill cut through him, almost viscerally. He looked down at the ground, watching as breath poured frostily from his chest. He could hear himself breathing raspily... or... wait. He was holding his breath.
Eddie looked up and startled. He was staring into a heavy black robe, withered from wear to virtual threadbare rags. Hidden in the cloth folds, something that stared back from the darkest regions of the deep umbra. It was shriveled and dessicated, its mouth puckered in a small spiral. Cold, sewn-shut eye sockets "stared" impassively at him.
And then Eddie's world began to swirl. He felt wracked with frostbiting cold and a sort of numbing agony which made him arch. A scream tore itself from his throat as he dropped the magazine.
The Dementor hovered from the elevator Eddie had summoned, and swished around Eddie, leaving him ice cold, sheet white and twitching. He felt like he would never be happy again, and yet realizing what was happening he was able to take his wand out with a badly shaking hand.
"Expecto Patronum," he barely croaked. His wand sprayed a wave of white energy reminiscent of spritzing rain and light. The Dementor screeched and bounced, which bought Eddie only a few minutes. "EXPECTO PATRONUM!" Bursting forth from his wand came "energy bubbles" and a heavy spritz of watery light. And then, like an exploding form swimming upstream a hook-lipped Salmon burst from the spritz. Its heavy, round-tipped fin propelled it at the Dementor like it the harbinger of doom was a minnow. The Salmon swam about it and butt at the Dementor. With screeches that could only be described as agony, the Dementor's normally graceful swim through the air became jerky as it tried to evade.
Eddie could feel his breath was choppy and shallow. The cold was devastating, but he chanced a look in the lift. A sheet white man laid in it, his eyes glassy and black. A look of absolute horror distorted his features and Eddie was sure he was gone from this world. Flicking his wand, Eddie knew he hadn't much time. He recalled his Patronus and then sent up a distress signal.
What: Dementors work to kill a lot of Muggles, but why? A mystery begins.
When: Roughly 9:00pm; Saturday November 8th 1997.
Where: Just outside Diagon Alley, in Muggle London.
Status: Ongoing
With the rain letting up from earlier in the day, Eddie decided to walk home rather than simply apparate. He missed Stepps Village, and its relative simplicity. It was a commuter town to Glasgow, which was as quirky and cosmopolitan as London. There were times, though, that Eddie felt very out of place in London. A life in the suburbs preceded seven years of rural isolation at Hogwarts and Hogsmeade. Moving to London had been a very big and scary step.
Still, while Eddie strode home out of the Leaky Cauldron after having a butterbeer under the ever-watchful gaze of Tom, he could feel like London was trying to grow on him. Sure it sometimes felt like a lonely place. But there was culture all around him.
I should go to a museum. And see art... Eddie thought while he pat a plastic-bagged mag against his palm. He barely registered the chill that ran down his back and raised the hair on the back of his neck.
The windows to the small flower shop Eddie passed frosted over, ice crystals growing in beautiful lattices across the glass. The sodium lamps above flickered their garish yellow lighting, their buzz echoing in the street. Fog began to move in, licking first at the heels of passerbys of which there were few.
Eddie stepped up to his building and gripped the frost-covered door latch. It was now, as he brought his cold, dampened hand away from the latch did Eddie have an inkling. He felt... cold. He shivered, and huddled his arms around himself. He sighed heavily, his mood inexplicably diminished. As he tapped for the elevator, he rolled his eyes. The day had been great, up until now. Eddie decided that he just wanted to go to bed and forget...
Another chill cut through him, almost viscerally. He looked down at the ground, watching as breath poured frostily from his chest. He could hear himself breathing raspily... or... wait. He was holding his breath.
Eddie looked up and startled. He was staring into a heavy black robe, withered from wear to virtual threadbare rags. Hidden in the cloth folds, something that stared back from the darkest regions of the deep umbra. It was shriveled and dessicated, its mouth puckered in a small spiral. Cold, sewn-shut eye sockets "stared" impassively at him.
And then Eddie's world began to swirl. He felt wracked with frostbiting cold and a sort of numbing agony which made him arch. A scream tore itself from his throat as he dropped the magazine.
The Dementor hovered from the elevator Eddie had summoned, and swished around Eddie, leaving him ice cold, sheet white and twitching. He felt like he would never be happy again, and yet realizing what was happening he was able to take his wand out with a badly shaking hand.
"Expecto Patronum," he barely croaked. His wand sprayed a wave of white energy reminiscent of spritzing rain and light. The Dementor screeched and bounced, which bought Eddie only a few minutes. "EXPECTO PATRONUM!" Bursting forth from his wand came "energy bubbles" and a heavy spritz of watery light. And then, like an exploding form swimming upstream a hook-lipped Salmon burst from the spritz. Its heavy, round-tipped fin propelled it at the Dementor like it the harbinger of doom was a minnow. The Salmon swam about it and butt at the Dementor. With screeches that could only be described as agony, the Dementor's normally graceful swim through the air became jerky as it tried to evade.
Eddie could feel his breath was choppy and shallow. The cold was devastating, but he chanced a look in the lift. A sheet white man laid in it, his eyes glassy and black. A look of absolute horror distorted his features and Eddie was sure he was gone from this world. Flicking his wand, Eddie knew he hadn't much time. He recalled his Patronus and then sent up a distress signal.