Time passes, and people rebuild in the ruins of what they used to have, filling the voids they can and glossing over the pain of the ones they can't. But a Planet can't do that. This is what it does instead. (Time travel fix-it fic)

I am ancient and unborn, and I have never seen a sky. (Tiamut's perspective)

"Guess what money is? Numbers!" Look, he's running a business here. (Antwan's perspective.)

This is just a short piece detailing my take on how Dementors came to be. It's pure self-indulgence, and of no great literary merit. Still, it's short, and you might find it interesting. Read if you will, review if you like.