Chapitre 16: CH16 - Quidditch Season
A week went by since Sirius Black's break-in at Hogwarts, with no further news of the man. In response to the general panic, Minister Fudge had decided to increase the dementor presence at Hogwarts, leaving Azkaban practically empty. Somehow, the man had also managed to wrestle an agreement from the Wizengamot to provide the creatures closer access to Hogwarts, allowing them to perform their job better. Looking out the windows of Hogwarts now, the ring of black cloaks was unmissable, a constantly depressing presence.
An environment of fear and worry permeated the castle, thick in the air in the days following the incident on Halloween. Everyone seemed to be affected by it, generally downcast for a few days after the fact.
...Except, oddly, Harry Potter himself. The boy could be found wearing a smile most days now, a stark change from the look of murder that had been affixed to his face for the past two months.
Those who passed him in the halls often did a double-take, unsure whether to be glad that he was in good spirits again, or concerned that he had completely cracked.
Regardless of the bleakness of the situation, teenagers had short memories. Within the week, talk of Sirius Black was quickly replaced with excitement about the first Quidditch match of the school year.
Everyone was eager to see another battle take place in the constant war between Gryffindor and Slytherin. Most muggle-borns, which translated to most of Hufflepuff, were hoping to see if the tradition of Draco Malfoy receiving a thrashing from Harry Potter could become an annual one.
The blonde was one of many pureblood supremacists at Hogwarts, but there were no others who were quite as blatant and unabashed of their views as he. Seeing him being brought down a peg was an outcome that simply could not be beaten.
...Other than, of course, by the victory of their own house.
And so when it was announced that Hufflepuff would be taking the place of Slytherin in the upcoming match, it didn't take long for a sense of rivalry to form between the house of badgers and the house of lions.
Any ideas that Edmund might have had to skip the match were soon forgotten. The house began planning team spirit activities right away, and there wasn't even a question asked of who would be attending.
Edmund and the rest of the first-years were given the responsibility of waving a giant sign reading HUFFLEPUFF decorated with house colours whenever a goal was scored. Ben, Jeremy, Cecilia, Jennifer, and Chelsea took to the task with happiness.
Edmund? Not so much.
Though that might have been because waving a sign wouldn't be the only thing Edmund had to do the day of the match.
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Steeling himself, Edmund clenched his fist as he tried to prepare himself to enter the Great Hall mentally.
'Like a band-aid,' he thought to himself. 'Rip it off quickly, and it'll hurt less. Right?'
As he walked down the aisle, every eye in the packed room turned to him, looking at him as if he was a circus clown.
The massive moving badger-head hat he had on turned around excitedly, quite willing to show off to its admiring audience. It excitedly let out high-pitched squeals, posturing and waving off its claws to all those willing to watch.
Out of the corner of his eye, Edmund saw the puff of a magical camera go off by the high table. Turning to look, he saw McGonagall unwilling to meet his eyes, a small smile present on her face. That was a rarity that most of the students would be shocked to see. Unfortunately, however, their attention was focused solely on him instead.
As he reached his seat, chatter finally began again. People pointed at him and sniggered, talking to their neighbours indiscreetly about his costume.
His housemates instead cheered him on excitedly, glad to see his house pride. Only his friends knew otherwise, as they laughed loudly at the sight of him. They would start to quiet down gradually, only for one of them to burst out, invoking chuckles from everyone again. A vicious feedback loop of hilarity.
"Why did I let Luna convince me to do this?" he grumbled rhetorically, wishing the ground could come up and swallow him whole.
Cecilia was the first to respond, finally able to regain control over her voice.
"Listen asshat," she began with a smirk on her face. "First, you weren't convinced to do shit. You owed her a favour, and this is how she chose to use it. Thankfully for the entertainment of all of us."
'Well, what was I supposed to do? She gathered fifty galleons worth of demiguise hair for me without question, and she only asked one small thing in return,' he grumbled internally, mumbling under his breath all the while.
"And secondly," Cecilia continued, paying no mind to his mutterings. "Badgers stick together!"
"Oh, fuck off!" Edmund finally exploded before trying to regain his calm unsuccessfully as everyone around him giggled. "Badgers live alone! Got it! Badgers! Live! Alone!"
This only prompted another round of hysterical snickers as everyone laughed at his plight.
"And you!" Edmund said as he turned to Cecilia. "You turned from a prissy princess to a damn sailor with the way you curse. You think your family would be impressed with that?" he asked, trying to get back at her.
Unfortunately, she only smiled wider at his retort.
"If anyone's to blame, it's you with your foul mouth," she said slyly. "I'm sure Lord Burke will easily believe that his poor innocent daughter was corrupted by a filthy mudblood," she said with big wide eyes mockingly.
"Fuck off!" he said again, practically reduced to a broken record.
Only Ben patted his shoulder commiseratingly in response, the rest content to enjoy his suffering.
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As everyone moved out to the pitch, Edmund ran into the executor of his punishment. Before he could let out a word of complaint, Luna gave Edmund an exuberant smile before running over to hug him.
Any words that were about to come out of his mouth died out as he returned the hug, sighing deeply as he resigned himself to his torture.
In the background, his friends looked at each other and smiled, well aware of the weakness that Edmund had for the older girl.
Giving Luna a quick goodbye, Edmund and the others made their way over to the Hufflepuff stands. Oddly to everyone else, Edmund insisted that they occupy the stand closest to the teachers' box, adamant that it was the best seat. Seeing no reason to argue, they complied, climbing the stairs all the way to the top.
Panting and breathless, they realized they had gotten there just in time. The quidditch players were already warming up, doing laps around the pitch as they waved to their excited fans, uncaring about the pouring rain.
Not long after, the quaffles and the snitch were released, and the game began. The first-year Hufflepuffs quickly realized that it would be a tiring game for them, as the number of times they had to wave their sign continued to climb.
Both teams' keepers were talented and experienced, but so were their chasers.
Preece, Macavoy, and Applebee —the Hufflepuff chasers— were well-coordinated and balanced players, but the flying foxes of Gryffindor were in a league of their own.
Slowly but surely, the difference between the scores began to climb, the game leaning in Gryffindor's favour. All was not lost, however, as Cedric catching the snitch could still net the badgers the game. Only 50 points separated the two teams, and it seemed increasingly likely that the outcome of the game would come down to the seekers.
That was why, after a short timeout requested by Wood almost two hours into the match, the cheering from Hufflepuff house remained just as high as when the game had first begun.
'It is fun,' Edmund admitted to himself as he yelled his lungs hoarse. 'I'd probably enjoy it more if I didn't know what was about to happen,' he thought grimly.
Sure enough, both Harry and Cedric raced upwards on a steep climb, chasing the golden glint of the snitch. All eyes were trained on them with excitement, which is why most did not notice the gradual decrease in temperature or their falling moods.
Suddenly, a dark rain-filled cloud directly above Harry parted, revealing a group of ten or so dementors waiting just above. A collective gasp escaped the crowd as Harry's hands fell from his broom, his body going limp as he fell.
Dumbledore was quick to cast Arresto Momentum on the falling body of Harry Potter, taking control of the situation. However, what neither he nor Edmund anticipated was the reaction of the dementors to losing a meal being served to them on a platter.
The creatures went into a frenzy, diving crazily toward the stands, as if their long starvation had finally broken them, revealing their true feral nature.
Cries of Expecto Patronum broke out from the teachers, but they were too late to mitigate all the damage.
While several dementors were suppressed, others targeted the stands, attracted to the strong, happy emotions being generated from them only a minute ago.
One of the said dementors rapidly approached the stand the first-year Hufflepuffs were occupying, throwing them into a panic.
Clearing his mind as best he could, Edmund attempted to cast the advanced spell he had been practicing diligently for the past two months.
"Expecto Patronum," he cried out loudly, hoping the power in his voice would translate to his spell. But, it was to no avail. Only a weak sputter of mist shot out from his wand, fizzling out as the dementor drew closer.
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Cecilia was crying, Edmund noticed absently. Bawling really.
Jeremy had a look of silent terror on his face, his mouth opened wide.
Ben had curled in on himself, desperately hoping it would make the creature leave him alone.
Jennifer and Chelsea were clutching each other tightly, their eyes closed and their cheeks pressed together.
But Edmund... Edmund's reaction was odd.
To an outsider, it would look like Edmund wasn't affected by the creature's insidious nature whatsoever. They would be wrong.
For while Edmund was standing with his eyes open and his expression still stuck in a face of determination, his mind was completely gone.
Blank.
He felt completely blank. In fact, he didn't feel at all. Sensation was draining from him completely. His feelings were leaving him. His sense of self was leaving him. Who was he? His memories certainly didn't tell him anything. He didn't have any memories at all.
He was nothing. He wasn't even sure he was a he. He would feel more like an 'it' if he could even feel at all. All that was left within 'it' was cold emptiness. Cold so sharp and piercing that there was no defence against it. Cold so deep that it penetrated the soul. All that remained was the void. It allowed 'it' to experience nothing, save the incomprehensible passage of time indefinite. It could have been seconds, or it could have been eons. 'It' didn't know.
'It' lay there, drifting aimlessly.
...
...
...
Until blissful unconsciousness took hold of 'it' at last.
L’AVIS DES CRÉATEURS 
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État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone