Chapter 140: Chapter 140: Christmas

Curling flames flickered steadily in the fireplace, illuminating the mysterious depths of Professor Sherlock Forester's office. As he unveiled the Dementor he had unwearyingly coerced into capture, a wave of icy cold surged through the room. The Dementor's formidable presence, face shrouded in dusky robes, began sipping away at the happiness lingering in Sherlock, who stood brazenly close. Their relentless quest for emotional sustenance was the instinctive attribute of these terrifying creatures, uncontainable by shackles or constraints.

However, Sherlock remained unperturbed. Compared to the dread he had experienced in the Goblin Hideout, the bleak despair cloaked by this Dementor seemed trifling. He adroitly waved his wand, re-securing the Dementor with glistening silver threads.

The Dementor immediately squirmed, tormented by the luminous effect of the Patronus charm - the natural adversary of its kind. Although Sherlock did not pride himself an authority in Patronus Charms, he had conducted a myriad of experiments on Dementors with formless Patronuses during his exploratory stint at Azkaban.

The essence of Dementor sustenance derived from the consumption of human joy and delight. As they feasted on these emotions, they reciprocally infused terror and panic into their victims. Therefore, these soul-crushing creatures didn't merely feed on hope and happiness. After depleting these emotions, they needed a return of fright and despair to satiate their monstrous appetite.

However, the shimmering light of a Patronus ensemble gleamed only with joy and positivity. Originating from jubilant emotions, Patronuses stood as formidable nemeses to Dementors. As beings that only housed positive emotions, Patronuses remained immune to despair, rendering Dementors impotent against them and causing them to recoil in their presence. But merely causing revulsion was the extent of their influence.

Considered among the most malevolent of creatures, Dementors bore the signature of invincibility. Since their ominous discovery, no single case of a Dementor's demise existed in existing records. Even the most powerful Patronuses could merely repel or disempower them, without achieving their absolute destruction.

These observations were, however, grounded in established knowledge. Sherlock aimed to fact-check this himself on today. Directing his Patronus — an ethereal and mesmerizing raven — towards the Dementor, it circled restlessly above. The Dementor quivered and twitched, seemingly desperate to evade its bounds; however, the silver threads held it in captivity. Under Sherlock's control, the bird-shaped Patronus descended, perching resolutely atop the Dementor's hooded figure.

The Dementor appeared to writhe in unbearable agony, with tendrils of grey smoke steadily emanating from its spectral form. The creature diminished in strength, eventually collapsing onto the floor. Apart from this, no significant indications of disintegration were visible. As the smoke dissipated, the Dementor lay weakened beneath Sherlock's raven-like Patronus, devoid of its strength but not vanquished entirely.

Regular curses, including the dreaded Killing Curse, had no effect on it. Physical assaults were as futile as attempting to touch pure air. Only a Patronus spell tinged them with vulnerability, yet even that was unable to obliterate them, merely repel or render them feeble.

These findings provided Sherlock with the insight behind the Ministry's precarious alliances with Dementors. The nature of these creatures made them natural human adversaries, yet they were impervious to destruction or conventional tactics. Owing to the rarity of wizards proficient in Patronus charms, the highest level of defense against Dementors, it was impractical to bank on their success in controlling these creatures. The best solution lay in confinement, supplying them with a consistent source of emotional 'nourishment' and keeping them at bay from the general population. The reformation of Azkaban into a wizarding prison, feeding the Dementors with guilty wizards convicted due to abhorrent activities, was a desperate measure.

The Dementors were not invested in their social rank among wizards. As long as their 'nourishment' supply was ensured, allegiance was set. Loyalty or credibility was alien to their nature. Sherlock attentively observed the hapless Dementor draped across the floor. Originally believing that exterminating these creatures was possible, he now understood that he had overestimated matters. If Patronuses indeed posed a lethal threat to Dementors, ancient wizards would have erased these anti-human beings long ago, not leaving them to torment present generations.

Having stashed the frail Dementor back into its cabinet, safely constrained by the Patronus threads, Sherlock dusted his hands and departed for the Great Hall to lend a hand to Professor Flitwick with the festivities; the Christmas decorations were due for setting up on the morrow. For now, the Dementor would serve a purpose, and Sherlock had no intention of returning it yet.

On Christmas morning, Sherlock was one of the first to rouse, finding a small heap of presents awaiting him on his bedside table. Staring blankly at his collection, he compared it to the previous year's haul which clearly paled in comparison.

Sherlock had reciprocated the favor, distributing a fair share of presents, unlike the previous year where he had merely dispatched a single Christmas present to Dumbledore. However, the task of inscribing the Christmas greetings on these gifts wasn't his doing. About a week before, while preparing the gifts, Harry Potter stumbled into his office and caught sight of Sherlock listing out the recipients: Mrs. Weasley, Mr. Weasley, Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall. Harry's face turned a shade paler than regular, he awkwardly offered to help with the greetings, a proposal which Sherlock was initially inclined to rebuff. However, giving in to Harry's earnest pleading, he eventually let him take over the job.

As Harry etched out the greetings on Sherlock's behalf, a sense of warm accomplishment washed over him. He found solace in the anecdotal belief that he was 'saving' individuals like Mr. Weasley from a Christmas disaster. And of course, the first order of the day on Christmas morning was the delightful task of unwrapping presents. Among the received gifts were yet another hat from Professor McGonagall, only pitch black this time; a cosy pair of woolen trousers generously offered by Mrs. Weasley; an invaluable parchment relating ancient defensive magic courtesy of Kingsley; a complete set of wand maintenance equipment from Fleur in France and a dazzling brand-new stenographer's quill from Hilke.

Indeed, the gift from Hilke came as a surprise to Sherlock. Hilke didn't appear the type to invest time into seasonal gift-giving rituals. Fleur's gift, too, was an equal surprise. Sherlock hadn't been expecting the young French girl to remember him after almost half a year. The crux was that he was not able to provide them with presents in return. Being a man used to reciprocation, this discrepancy disturbed Sherlock. He felt like an unwitting villain who had arrived unprepared to the occasion. But Christmas day had dawned, and this blunder was too late to rectify - a task to be noted for the coming year.

Having addressed the presents, Sherlock made his way to the Great Hall for breakfast. He and Professor Flitwick had yet to hang the remaining festive ribbons from the previous day. Instead of retreating to his office that morning, Sherlock spent it in the staff lounging area, engaged in earnest teaching-related discourses with Professor McGonagall.

This year, the Christmas ambiance at Hogwarts seemed comparatively tame due to the fewer students in the castle. With the perpetually solitary group of professors, overall company barely exceeded twenty. Nonetheless, the festive luncheon wasn't deprived of its customary clatter and gaiety. The merry festive spirit distracted Harry momentarily from his worries concerning Sirius. Especially after receiving an unidentified gift that morning - a cutting-edge "Firebolt" flying broom.

At the dinner banquet, at Dumbledore's ardent insistence, Professor Snape, although reluctantly, pulled open a magical Christmas cracker. Startlingly, a large colorful witch's hat sprung out, promptly settling on Snape's head. He quickly tossed it to Dumbledore, expressing distaste, and Dumbledore helpfully secured it onto his own head in delight.

There was a noticeable absence interest at the dinner table, however. Professor Lupin was missing. Professor Trelawney of Divination ingeniously took notice of this, but Dumbledore casually dismissed it as poor health. In reality, that period coincided with the full moon, and as a werewolf, Lupin most likely holed up somewhere private after consuming Snape's Wolfsbane potion.

Post the grandiose Christmas feast, Professor Sherlock returned to continue his magical trials on the beleaguered Dementor. As the cloaking night enveloped Hogwarts and moonlight filtered inside, he lodged the now frail Dementor back into the cabinet and examined the locket hanging around his neck, gleaming under the moon's silver light. Following the numerous days of trials, the locket appeared to be in better condition.

The changes were incredibly subtle, but the locket indeed stood significantly improved from its initial decrepit state. Though it still sported a rich golden hue, the surface was clear of all its previous tarnish and odious stains. As if it was slowly being revived.

This trivial transformation was gradual but notably and testified to Dumbledore's proclamation. The necklace was slowly self-repairing. The end game of this restoration was unknown territory to Sherlock, but he vested his hopes on Dumbledore's wisdom. The day it was completely restored would be the day it could finally be discarded.

From its current self-repair rate, Sherlock gauged that day wouldn't be too distant.