There was a moment when his thoughts stuttered and he thought he might pass out when he realized he also had no eyes. He was seeing though…how?...It was actually more like sensing he realized. He sensed the dementor in front of him and his body at his feet. He knew where they were and what they would look like, but he didn't actually see them. Frankly, he figured he actually saw a little better now than he did with his glasses, he thought with a humorless snort.
He opened his mouth to tell off the dementor, but only a long, haunting screech came out. For some reason, he knew that he'd actually said, "There's no way in hell I'm going with you, and you can very well bugger off, or I'll see if a dementor can suck another one's soul out!" All that just sounded like a combination of a bird of prey's screech and a death rattle, if that made any sense at all.
"Have it your way," wafted back to him in the form of a similar screech from the other dementor before it continued on its way as if it hadn't just destroyed someone's life. "We'll see you again, Harry Potter," drifted back to him ominously as the dementor faded from sight.
Dementor-Harry looked down once more at his body and tried to remember all he knew of what happened to someone after they were kissed. Well…they didn't die, was the first and only thing that was coming to mind. So, his body down there must still be alive. He reached down with his skeletal hand to take a hold of the tanned and calloused hand that he once called his own. He gasped a rattling breath as his hand went right through his old one.
Quickly he reached over and poked Dudley's hand. Nope, that was solid. So, it was only his old body then…maybe…Harry floated down to his old body and fell into it horizontally. It was one of the weirdest feelings he had ever experienced. It was like he was getting dressed up in an uncomfortable suit. It was painfully obvious he was no longer connected to this body and couldn't reconnect himself. However, when he moved the arms, they moved. He tried moving his facial features and then his legs. It all worked for him but felt completely wrong.
Finally, he stood, wearing his Harry-suit, and looked down at his unconscious cousin. There was no way he was going to be able to carry him home, so he nudged the larger teen with his foot. With a groan, Dudley shifted slightly. "Dudley, you fell. Can you stand on your own?" Harry asked him, testing out his voice. He sighed in relief when it was in English and not whatever dementor language he'd been speaking before.
He could do this…right? He'd just wear his Harry-suit and pretend that nothing happened. No one had to know. Dudley blinked and looked up at Harry with fear in his eyes and a scream in his lungs. Harry winced and felt his aura extending out around him and tried out pulling it inside of himself. As Dudley passed back out, Harry grimaced. Guess I'll have to work on that.
Harry's aunt and uncle were not amused. Dudley had finally woken up again and Harry had gotten them home. No one believed that Dudley had tripped and knocked himself out, which was ironic since he actually had done just that before the whole dementor drama. They all seemed too afraid of Harry to do much about it though. Harry couldn't really decide if that was a pro or a con, but was leaning decidedly towards pro...
He really was trying, and mostly succeeding, at keeping his dementor-aura in check. When the verbal abuse got too much and he started losing control of his emotions, it was hard to keep everything reigned in though. There were many less arguments in the Dursley household after a couple slips in his control. He wasn't proud of the fact that his relatives were terrified of him, but since he'd been afraid of them for well over a decade of his life, he wasn't letting the guilt overtake him too much.
As much as he now felt like the freak the Dursleys had always told him he was, he was also knocked out of his vicious cycle of anxiety over Voldemort. Now he had a new cycle of anxiety about turning into a dementor wearing a Harry-suit around and what his friends and the ministry would do when they found out. He tried to act as normally as possible, but he no longer needed to eat or sleep, and that was a little noticeable. After a little over a day, he came to the uncomfortable conclusion that he did have to make his human body eat, even if he had to force the food down, or his Harry-suit would die. The body had become more and more sluggish when he didn't feed it, and he realized that it still needed sustenance even if he didn't. As weird as he felt wearing himself around like clothes, he refused to carry around a smelly dead body.
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