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---
Chapter 105 — Feeding the Darkness
At that moment, Malfoy took the initiative and grasped the Dementor's decayed, rotting hand.
Just looking at it was enough to make goosebumps rise and nausea churn in the stomach.
At the same time, a thin, dazzling tongue of flame shot out from Dumbledore's wand. It looked like a strip of red-hot metal, wrapping tightly around their joined hands.
"Then, in exchange," Malfoy said evenly, "after I fulfill the first condition, when I require you and your kind, will you obey my orders and follow them without exception?"
"I… am willing."
There was no emotion in the Dementor's voice, yet Dumbledore, standing nearby, keenly sensed a trace of anticipation.
The Dementor was speaking as quickly as it could.
It wanted this agreement concluded as soon as possible — even faster than Malfoy himself.
Food… for Dementors?
Dumbledore's blue eyes shifted to Malfoy.
He would never allow Dementors to harm Muggles or ordinary witches and wizards again. If they were not restrained, this would become another disaster.
Malfoy felt his gaze and gave him a brief wink.
"Please trust me."
He could guess Dumbledore's doubts and concerns completely — but they were unnecessary.
This Unbreakable Vow would not harm any innocent party.
Except, perhaps, the Death Eaters who would one day face an army of Dementors.
A second tongue of flame burst from Dumbledore's wand, intertwining with the first and forming a thin, flickering red chain.
"The final condition," Malfoy said expressionlessly.
"I hope for… pleasant cooperation."
He pushed Occlumency to its absolute limit, suppressing every emotion with ruthless precision, preventing the Dementor from feeding on him. Only by doing so could he maintain the strength needed to finish the vow.
"I am willing," the Dementor replied.
The final tongue of flame lashed out, braiding with the other two, binding their hands tightly — like a living, fire-breathing serpent.
"The vow is sealed," Dumbledore said.
"Get lost," Malfoy said coldly.
"Take your kind and return to where you belong."
His face had gone pale, and his legs trembled slightly. Even with Occlumency shielding his mind, the contact had been too deep.
The joy that had been siphoned away could not be completely avoided. Weakness crept through him all the same.
Dumbledore watched as the Dementor — clearly their leader — floated out through the window.
Under normal circumstances, he would never have allowed such a creature to wander freely before him, let alone act as witness to its oath.
"I will give you a reasonable explanation," Malfoy said, pulling a bar of chocolate from his pocket and biting into it hard, easing the chill left behind by the Dementors.
"But you should go to Azkaban immediately. The Dementors are about to go on strike. The few Aurors stationed there won't be able to stop desperate prisoners from escaping."
"If there has been one Black," he added quietly,
"there will be a second… and a third."
"I will give you a satisfactory explanation," Malfoy repeated.
"And if you're still dissatisfied after Azkaban is stabilized, you may help me break the contract."
"After all," he added lightly,
"you didn't swear the Unbreakable Vow with them."
Dumbledore looked deeply into Malfoy's eyes and said nothing.
His body gradually turned translucent — then vanished completely.
He chose to believe.
---
Suppressing Azkaban's unrest did not take much time.
Most of the prisoners were already hollow shells, incapable of resistance. The few who remained lucid had no means of defying him.
With a single spell, Dumbledore eliminated any chance of the prisoners exploiting the chaos to escape.
After settling Azkaban, he hurried to the appointed location.
The student had told him that he would understand everything once he saw it with his own eyes.
So — what did he see?
When Dumbledore opened the iron door, rust shrieking after years of disuse, hundreds of Dementors were crammed into the narrow room.
Their cloaks pressed against one another, layers of black fabric twisting and overlapping, turning the space into a suffocating mass of darkness.
At the center, there was a gap.
Within it sat a man.
An ordinary Muggle.
Dumbledore sensed no magic on him whatsoever.
His first instinct was to summon his Patronus — to annihilate the Dementors and rescue the man — then turn back and demand:
This is your so-called food?
But just as he raised his wand, he stopped.
Because the man was smiling.
Smiling.
In all his years, Dumbledore had seen countless witches and wizards stripped of happiness and courage by Dementors.
Some cried.
Some screamed.
Some fell into despair.
But he had never seen anyone smile before a Dementor without a Patronus.
And this was not merely a smile.
It was intoxication.
Something was deeply wrong.
Hundreds of Dementors surrounded him — and yet Malfoy had promised them endless food.
How could one man sustain such creatures?
As Dumbledore stepped closer, he realized something even stranger.
The Dementors were ignoring him.
They had no eyes, yet they sensed joy instinctively — hunger guiding them.
And yet now, they paid him no attention at all.
An absurd conjecture surfaced in his mind.
To confirm it, he moved faster, his robes rustling softly.
"Legilimency."
His spell plunged him into chaos — overlapping fragments, distorted colors, intertwining scenes.
"I said, let there be light."
Light was born.
"I separate light from darkness."
They divided.
"Light is day. Darkness is night. Evening came, morning followed — the first day."
Time itself unfolded.
—
A terrifying sense of wrongness surged through Dumbledore.
His instincts screamed at him to stop.
If he continued, something irreversible would happen — perhaps something that would doom him forever.
He immediately withdrew, severing the spell and retreating from the man's mind.
The conjecture was confirmed.
But the deeper truth could not be touched.
The man collapsed, unconscious.
Still, the Dementors did not attack.
They remained motionless.
Silent.
Until Dumbledore met Malfoy again.
---
"I saw it," Dumbledore said gravely.
"And even now, I do not fully understand it."
"You've guessed most of it," Malfoy replied calmly.
"You're just missing one piece."
Dumbledore nodded slightly.
"This is considered illegal behavior in Muggle society," Malfoy said lightly.
"I don't understand."
"He consumed something special," Malfoy explained.
"Similar to a potion whose effects have been amplified countless times — endless pleasure, but without altering luck."
"In the Muggle world," he said quietly,
"they call it… drugs."
"Drugs…" Dumbledore repeated, troubled.
"This is cruelty beyond even the darkest magic," Malfoy said, pushing open the iron door again with a wave of his wand.
"Why are the Dementors indifferent to us, Professor?"
Silence.
Then Dumbledore answered softly, "Because… they are full."
Malfoy clapped once.
The realization struck Dumbledore like ice flooding his veins.
He had devoted his life to fighting Dark Magic — Cruciatus Curse, Imperius Curse, Avada Kedavra — none of it had ever truly frightened him.
But what he had seen today did.
Long ago, some wizards had attempted to counter Dementors with artificially induced happiness. The experiment failed catastrophically.
Yet now—
A Muggle method had succeeded.
"This cannot be good," Dumbledore murmured.
"Then stop it," he said at last.
Malfoy looked at him.
"Try."
Dumbledore raised his wand.
"Ennervate!"
"Obliviate!"
The man woke — then collapsed again.
They waited.
Moments later, the man woke once more.
Empty.
Sweating.
Anxious.
Moonlight flooded the floor, bright and beautiful — yet it could not calm him.
He clawed at the locked door in desperation.
The darkness had already returned.