He felt the unnatural cold begin to steal over the street. Light was sucked from the environment right up to the stars, which vanished. The cold was biting deeper and deeper into Harry’s flesh.
Then, around the corner, gliding noiselessly, came Dementors, ten or more of them, visible because they were of a denser darkness than their surroundings, with their black cloaks and their scabbed and rotting hands. Could they sense fear in the vicinity? Harry was sure of it: They seemed to be coming more quickly now, taking those dragging, rattling breaths he detested, tasting despair on the air, closing in.
Suddenly he heard them: Marxists.
“No,” he whispered, sinking to his knees. When they get near you, he remembered Lupin saying, you will be left with only the worst memories of your life.
“Only together, collectively, can we achieve anything of lasting significance,” he heard one of them say. Harry moaned in pain.
“The fortunate owe it to society to contribute to those who cannot work,” another chanted. Harry closed his eyes and collapsed.
“A strong central government –” began a third. This was too much for Harry. He rose painfully to his knees and screamed –
A shining white dollar flew out of his wand. “I AM THE STRONGEST FORCE THERE IS,” it shouted. “I AM AN OBJECTIVE MEASUREMENT OF THE GOOD. I CANNOT BE DIMINISHED OR COMPROMISED.”
The Dementors scattered.
“Our worldview is corrupt and ineffective,” one of them shouted as it scurried away into the night.
Harry’s Patronum lazily floated back to him and rested on the tip of his wand.
“I’m going to spend you,” he said to it. And he did.