Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all related concepts are owned by someone who isn't me. I will never seek or accept money for the circulation of this work.
Bad Ideas for Harry
Chapter one: Feed a horcrux to a dementor?
Harry clambered up to stand at the cliffside and retrieved the spyglass Luna gave him for his birthday. After a few adjustments, he could see the distant black thorn jutting out of the North Sea that was the island prison of Azkaban.
This has got to be one of Hermione's least-appealing inspirations, ever. I note that she chose not to tag along on this one... 'I have a cold,' indeed. And there's Ron, all 'Kreacher won't get her soup because of his attitude towards her, mate.' Some friends. Wish they'd just shag and get it done with.
He stowed the spyglass and cast his Patronus. The luminous stag that erupted from his most pleasant memory cantered back and forth on the cliff face, staring hard at the distant rock as well- it knew where its enemy lay in wait.
"Just hang here and be ready."
The wispy creature nodded its head and continued to stalk.
Fairly soon, a shape like a torn flag could be seen tacking its way through the winds towards where Harry stood.
"Guess Fudge wasn't lying. First time for everything."
Within minutes the tattered black shape resolved into a dementor, though it appeared to be twice the size of any Harry had seen before. Harry backed away from the precipice and gave his Patronus a steadying gesture; the avatar of his hope stood behind him but poised, ready to act.
The great dementor glided to a stop a few yards away.
Harry said, "I... I've been told you can understand me."
The spectre seemed to nod.
"O-okay. Well, I'd like to give you a soul to eat. It's perfectly legal, and really doesn't belong here anyway." Harry then placed Slytherin's locket on the rock before him and stepped back a few paces, his Patronus edging backward as well.
The dementor cocked its head to the side, then settled into a crouch above the enchanted pendant, its arms raised like a fighting spider... or perhaps like a food connoisseur being offered a dish both surprising and new. It tilted its head around the jewel, taking its time to choose the right angle of consumption. It then turned its head toward Harry and tapped the locket with a claw.
"Oh, right. Sorry," Harry replied. He then bent forward and said in Parseltongue, "~Open~."
The locket unlatched and a silvery black smoke rose from its center, only then the sound of a rushing wind greater that what was already crashing against the cliffs came out of the dementor, and Harry saw the wisps of soul-light being drawn from the center of the locket straight into its mouth.
Harry grinned while retreating to a safe observation, only to lose his enthusiasm with the change in perspective; the stream emanating from the locket seemed awfully thin.
The dementor kept jerking its head upward, pulling at the soul strand this way and that, gripping the ground around it for leverage, but the locket remained tethered to its sucking strand. In frustration, the dementor redoubled his efforts and lifted up off the ground. The locket swung upwards, dangling from its 'chin' by a long thread of silvery soul-matter that stretched more as the dementor thrashed its head around.
"What the Hell's the problem?"
That caught the great dementor's attention and it snapped its face towards Harry, the locket bouncing against its chest like a lump of cheese. A piercing wail emanated from the depths of its tatters, and soon Harry could see maybe a half-dozen more dementors flying towards the escarpment from Azkaban.
"Look, if it's not going to work, I'll just take it back and try something else."
The jewel clattered on the ground, still attached by soul-string to the dementor's face. The creature raised a skeletal hand towards him, clearly insisting on allowing it another try.
The other six dementors approached and took curious looks at the large dementor's situation. After a silent conversation of gestures, they also leaned down to 'Kiss' the locket. Six more tendrils of soul were drawn from the center into the faces of loudly-sucking dementors.
They began a tug-of-war, each trying to suck more of the soul than the others, and thus yanking the locket in the center this way and that. Harry backed further away as their efforts began to resemble wild dogs fighting over a carcass.
After several minutes of this, Harry had had enough. "Alright! Clearly this isn't working. Just let go of the thing and I'll thank you for the effort."
The large dementor slapped the others around until they stopped jerking on their respective soul-spaghetti. With a gesture, they were all commanded to retreat. Each one nodded forward, attempting to spit out their soulstrand, but they remained attached. Their attempts became quite panicked as they pulled with their arms, tried to tangle the strands around stumps and outcroppings, but they all were stuck, like opium addicts super-glued to a hookah.
"Oh, for God's sake!"
The large dementor yanked upward, affronted. He then took a deep breath and a great vortex opened in his face. First one, then another smaller dementor was drawn into its gullet, until it was now twice again as big and the only dementor extant. Along the way, the locket had also been swallowed but it dropped through his tatters to clatter on the rock, a thicker tendril of soul now seeming to hold the great dementor to the ground by its... bowels.
Harry's Patronus nudged him. Turning to look, he saw the great silvery beast shuddering in laughter.
"Yeah, Prongs. I think this is worth sharing in the Pensieve, don't you? Alright, since you can't seem to unstick yourself, it looks like you're coming back to Grimmauld with me." Harry walked up and reached below the struggling dementor, picking up the locket and the dementor along with it.
"Look Prongs; a balloon. Bloody grief."
The annoyed creature howled at him.
"See here, mate. You're the one stuck. If you don't behave, I'll chuck this thing into a volcano. That probably won't destroy it and you'll be stuck there forever. If you get feisty we'll just leave you in an incinerator for a day to give you a taste. Get me?"
The spirit-thief shrank and sagged in defeat.
Harry shook his head and then Disapparated, dementor-balloon in tow. His Patronus remained for several minutes longer, sustained by the joy of its own amusement, until it faded away.