The chill autumn wind bit at Tobias Snape's exposed neck, a poor match for the liquid fire churning in his gut. He stumbled down the cobbled lane, the textile factory's grime still clinging to his threadbare coat, the clinking of the half-empty liquor bottle in his hand a rhythmic counterpoint to his slurred curses. Another miserable day, another evening drowned in cheap ale and the biting scorn of his wife, Eileen. He'd shown her, hadn't he? Showing her what happened when you married above your station, how a pure-blood witch ended up with a common drunk like him. He sneered, a sour taste in his mouth that had nothing to do with the cheap whiskey.
A sudden, sharp drop in temperature made the hairs on his arms stand on end. Tobias shivered, pulling his coat tighter, his bloodshot eyes darting into the deepening shadows between the houses. He felt it—that prickling sensation on the back of his neck, the one that told him he wasn't alone. Drunk as he was, an instinct, raw and primal, screamed danger.
"Who's there?" he slurred, his voice thick and wavering. "Come out, you bloody coward! You want a piece of Tobias Snape, eh? Come and get it, then!" He brandished the bottle, its amber contents sloshing dangerously. He swayed, trying to focus, but the world spun around him.
A darker shadow detached itself from the deeper gloom of the alleyway ahead, moving with an unnatural, gliding motion. It was tall, impossibly thin, and draped in tattered, black cloaks that seemed to drink the meager light. Tobias squinted, trying to make sense of the figure, but it remained indistinct, a blur of profound darkness.
"I said, come here, you arse!" Tobias roared, his bravado fueled by alcohol and fear. "What, too scared, are we? Just another pathetic loser slinking in the dark! I'll show you what happens to busybodies!" With a drunken yell, he hurled the bottle. It spun end over end, a projectile of liquid spite aimed squarely at the approaching figure.
But instead of connecting with a satisfying crunch, the bottle simply phased through the dark shape, as if it were nothing more than a wisp of smoke. It shattered on the cobblestones beyond, a forlorn tinkle of breaking glass in the eerie silence.
Tobias blinked, his jaw dropping. He shook his head violently, trying to clear the fog of drink. "Bloody hell," he mumbled, "I'm seeing things. Too much of the good stuff, eh?"
But the figure continued to drift closer, and as it did, an oppressive wave of cold, a despair so profound it stole the breath from his lungs, washed over him. The air grew impossibly heavy, tasting of rot and sorrow. He could see it now, or rather, sense it. A gaping, ragged hole where a face should be, a cowl of darkness concealing… nothing. It was a void, an emptiness that promised to consume all. Terror, cold and absolute, sobered him faster than a bucket of ice water. This was no man, no ordinary shadow. This was something from a nightmare, a silent, malevolent presence that radiated pure, unadulterated misery.
"What in God's name...?" Tobias whispered, stumbling backwards, his heart hammering against his ribs. He turned to run, his heavy boots clattering on the stones, his mind screaming for escape. But his legs, accustomed to the drunken shuffle, betrayed him. He lurched, his feet tangling, and he pitched forward, crashing to his knees with a painful grunt.
He scrambled to get up, but it was too late. The Dementor was upon him, its chilling presence a physical weight. A hand, skeletal and rotten, shot out from beneath its tattered cloak, clamping onto Tobias's face. The world tilted. All light, all warmth, all sound seemed to drain away. A horrifying vacuum opened up inside him, sucking out every flicker of joy, every memory of happiness, every last drop of positive emotion he possessed. He saw Eileen's hesitant smile, Severus's small, hopeful face, fleeting moments of a good pint, a rare laugh shared with a colleague – all of it, ripped away, leaving only an agonizing, soul-deep emptiness. He thrashed, a guttural scream caught in his throat, his body convulsing as the Dementor's kiss threatened to pull his very soul from him. The cold seeped into his bones, into his mind, freezing every thought, every hope. This was the end, he knew it. This was the oblivion he deserved.
Then, as suddenly as it began, it stopped.
The Dementor released him, its skeletal grip vanishing. The oppressive cold lifted fractionally, the crushing despair receding to a dull throb. The dark figure simply drifted away, melting back into the shadows from which it had come, leaving Tobias crumpled on the ground, gasping for breath, utterly spent. He lay there for a long moment, unmoving, the shattered glass glinting mockingly nearby. Slowly, painstakingly, he pushed himself up, his limbs feeling leaden, his mind a void. The cold still lingered, but it was nothing compared to the desolation within. He felt… empty. Not angry, not even scared anymore. Just hollowed out.
He stumbled home, his usual drunken swagger replaced by a slow, plodding gait. The front door creaked open, revealing Eileen, her face etched with a familiar weariness, a forced cheerfulness in her eyes.
"Tobias? You're home. I made some stew, and the fire's lit..." she began, her voice trailing off as she took in his appearance.
He didn't react. Didn't grunt, didn't curse, didn't even look at her. His eyes, usually sparking with belligerent rage, were flat, lifeless. He simply walked past her, a stranger in his own home, and slumped into his worn armchair in the den. He didn't reach for another bottle, didn't yell about the noise or the cold. He just sat there, utterly still, a profound, unsettling calm radiating from him. Tobias Snape, once a coiled spring of bitterness and anger, now resembled a dog that had been recently spayed and neutered, all the fight, all the fire, surgically removed. He was there, but he was all but gone.
Echo and Lily stood at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, the ancient trees looming like silent sentinels around them. Lily's vibrant red hair seemed to dim in the encroaching shadows, her eyes wide with a mixture of terror and morbid fascination. Echo, however, stood with a calm, almost casual demeanor, his blue hair a steady, unwavering light in the gloom. A ripple in the air, a sudden drop in temperature that stole the warmth from their lungs, announced its arrival. The Dementor, a cloaked, skeletal figure, glided silently from between the trees, its presence a chilling void that sucked all happiness from the surroundings. Lily gasped, instinctively shrinking back, her hand flying to her mouth to stifle a scream.
Echo, unfazed, stepped forward, his voice low and firm. "Is it done?"
The Dementor paused, its cowl turning towards Echo, and gave a subtle, almost imperceptible nod. The air around it seemed to thicken, a silent affirmation.
Echo reached out, his hand gently stroking the Dementor's cowl, a gesture of profound familiarity that made Lily's blood run cold. "Good," he murmured, a hint of satisfaction in his voice. "You did well. Now, be on your way."
With another silent ripple, the Dementor turned and glided back into the depths of the forest. Its chilling presence slowly receded until the warmth began to return to the air.
Lily, her legs trembling, stumbled forward, her voice a shaky whisper. "Echo… that was… that was the scariest thing I've ever been a part of." She looked at him, her eyes still wide with a lingering fear. "What… what did you have it do?"
Echo's blue hair flickered with a cunning, almost predatory green. "I had my minion essentially neuter Tobias Snape," he said, his voice matter-of-fact. "Much like what happened to me when the Dementor took all my joy and happiness, it did something similar to him. Tobias still has his soul; he can walk, eat, talk, bathe, shit, and work just like any other person, but now he's… calmer." His eyes glinted with a dark satisfaction. "No more rage, no more bitterness, no more volatile temper. Just… quiet emptiness. He'll still be Tobias Snape, but the very essence of what made him a monster, what made him hurt Severus, has been surgically removed. He's a husk of his former self. He won't hurt Severus again, not with that fire gone."
Lily stared at him, a shiver running down her spine. The raw, cold logic of his actions, the chilling effectiveness of his solution, was almost as unsettling as the Dementor itself. Her red hair, usually so fiery, seemed to have lost some of its vibrancy. "Severus… he's going to be furious with us, isn't he?" she whispered, her gaze fixed on the spot where the Dementor had vanished. "When he finds out what we've done…"
Echo let out a low, humorless chuckle, his green hair pulsing with a resigned acceptance. "Probably. Definitely, actually. He's a very proud man, and he doesn't like anyone interfering in his affairs, especially not for his 'own good.' He'll likely feel even more betrayed than before, at least initially." He ran a hand through his hair, which settled into a calm, resolute blue. "But that's a risk we'll have to deal with later, Lily. It had to be done. For his benefit, for his mother's benefit… in the long run, this will be better. He won't have to fear his father anymore. Eileen won't have to live with a monster. And Severus… Severus can finally heal without that constant threat hanging over him."