Bab 131: 131: Attack of the Dementors
Saturday, a stormy day.
It seemed that the heavens were not on Gryffindor's side.
Wood had a grim expression as he watched the storm outside. The wind was so fierce it was about to blow the umbrellas away.
Originally, today they were supposed to have a match against Slytherin, but the Slytherins had dodged it, claiming a teammate was injured.
Yes, that unlucky guy who got swatted down by Buckbeak.
That was Slytherin's new Chaser.
"Those despicable Slytherins!" Wood gritted his teeth, saying, "They're definitely trying to sit back and watch us and Hufflepuff tear each other apart!"
Harry was fuming too, especially after his friend got punished by the Slytherin Head of House to clean the hospital wing toilets.
They all held in their frustration, looking up at the downpour outside. The rain was coming down like bullets, and just hitting their faces felt like being pelted by small stones.
The gale was strong enough to blow any young witch or wizard off their broom; just flying was going to be a challenge.
Harry went to change into his scarlet Quidditch robes. Before he entered the locker room, he spotted Malfoy sulking, his face looking like someone owed him thousands of Galleons.
In the stands…
Goyle and Crabbe were holding up a sun umbrella, while Malfoy, in a foul mood, sat beneath it.
Nearby, John had cast a waterproofing charm, and the rain slid right off him before it could even touch.
Daphne also asked John to cast a waterproofing charm for her.
"Looks like you're not in the best mood," John commented after glancing at Malfoy, already knowing why he was upset.
Malfoy sat down angrily and said, "Damn it! They think I'll lose to Potter."
Originally, Malfoy had been determined to restore his honor, but the Slytherin team captain, Flint, refused the match due to an injured player.
This made Malfoy feel humiliated. He had prepared for everything, and now they were doubting his abilities.
The current Malfoy wasn't someone who backed down from a fight. On the contrary, he was eager to face Harry.
John calmly remarked, "Once you're the captain, you'll be in control of everything."
"But... it's frustrating," Malfoy grumbled, thoroughly annoyed. If Potter found out about this, he'd think Malfoy was scared to lose.
The match was about to begin, with red and yellow blurring together in the rain.
But that wasn't a problem for John. He chuckled softly and said, "Since you can't be on the field, let's cheer for our friends."
He looked over at Cedric, who, as both captain and Seeker for Hufflepuff, wasn't fazed by the downpour.
Cedric smiled kindly at Wood and said, "This will be an exciting match."
Wood shook hands with Cedric, who had a character so likable that even his enemies couldn't help but respect him.
With a sharp whistle, the game began.
Harry shot into the sky like a bolt of lightning, with Cedric right on his tail. They moved like predators hunting in the air, both intensely searching for the Golden Snitch.
Bludgers zoomed dangerously across the field, and Harry barely avoided getting knocked off his broom several times. The rain was relentless, making it hard for anyone to see. For Harry, it was even worse—his glasses were soaked, leaving his vision completely blurred.
It was hard enough just to see people, let alone a walnut-sized Golden Snitch.
The match had gone on for what felt like an eternity. At one point, Harry barely dodged what he couldn't even tell was either a teammate or an opponent.
A flash of lightning split the sky, and Madam Hooch blew her whistle for a time-out.
Taking advantage of the break, Harry gathered some understanding of the situation.
Wood's brutal training had given them a 50-point lead despite the harsh weather, but unless they caught the Golden Snitch, the match could go on until midnight.
Harry took the chance to wipe his glasses, but it was futile—within five seconds of being back out in the rain, he wouldn't be able to see a thing.
In desperation, Harry muttered, "With these glasses, there's no hope for me."
And just like in every tough moment, when a son is struggling, a mother's help always seems to appear.
Hermione appeared at just the right moment, tapping Harry's glasses with her wand and saying, "Impervius!"
"There, now they're waterproof!" Hermione handed the glasses back to Harry.
Wood was overjoyed at this and for a moment felt an overwhelming urge to kiss Hermione in gratitude. Of course, he held back—he wasn't that impulsive, or at least he hoped not.
Even though Harry would still get drenched by rain, battered by wind, and frozen stiff in the air, he could see clearly now.
Riding his broom through the storm, Harry scanned the field for the Golden Snitch.
Bludgers, unaffected by the downpour, zipped through the air. Harry narrowly dodged one that nearly smashed into his head and skillfully maneuvered underneath Cedric with a sharp, evasive move.
A loud rumble echoed through the sky as lightning zigzagged across the clouds, making the already dangerous weather even worse. Nature seemed full of hidden threats.
Harry knew he needed to catch the Snitch quickly.
He turned around, looking for a spot with a better vantage point.
Suddenly, another bolt of lightning lit up the stands as if it were daytime.
John squinted, gazing up at the sky, the rain pelting him without any effect.
Noticing his concentration, Daphne asked, "What's going on?"
"There's something up there," John replied.
"Is that so?"
John responded with a hum, his eyes fixed on the sky, scanning intently.
At that exact moment, Harry saw it too.
The outline of a large, shaggy black dog appeared, stark against the stormy sky, perched on the highest row of empty seats in the stands. Its fur was matted, and the figure was eerily clear amidst the dark clouds.
Harry's frozen hands slipped slightly on his broomstick, causing him to drop a few feet in the air. He quickly pushed his wet hair out of his eyes and looked again, but the black dog had vanished.
"Harry, behind you!" Wood shouted at the top of his lungs.
Harry whipped around, his heart racing. Cedric was already chasing the tiny golden dot—the Golden Snitch.
Panic surged through Harry. If Cedric caught it, they would lose the match.
Forgetting about the black dog, he urged his broom to go faster.
"Come on! Faster!" he growled, as if shouting could make his broom speed up.
Maybe he yelled too loudly, because suddenly there was no other sound around him. Just an eerie silence.
Then, creeping in, came a familiar coldness. He recognized it immediately—the same chill that had caused him to faint on the train.
Horrified, Harry realized what it was.
Dementors!
At least a hundred of them had stormed into the Quidditch stadium.
Up in the stands, John finally saw what was happening clearly.
When he laid eyes on the swarm of Dementors, black as storm clouds, his expression darkened immediately.
"If the Ministry can't control their hands, I'll break them myself!"
Without hesitation, John stood up, drawing his wand before Daphne could even grasp the situation.
"Expecto Patronum!"
The professors had also realized something was terribly wrong, but by the time they noticed, the Dementors had already descended onto the field.
Dumbledore's face was grim as he prepared to act, but before he could, a bright light pierced through the darkness.
"A Patronus?" Professor Flitwick's high-pitched voice rang out, almost as if he were giving a lecture.
Amid the silver-white glow, a petrel resembling an albatross swooped through the sky, heading straight for the mass of Dementors.
Wherever the petrel soared, the Dementors recoiled, as if encountering something utterly terrifying, and fled swiftly.
Professor Flitwick, overcome with excitement, shouted, "An extraordinary Patronus!"
He looked as if he might faint from excitement as the albatross weaved in and out of the swarming Dementors.
John narrowed his eyes, his right hand extended as if holding something invisible.
The rain within a hundred-meter radius began to change direction, gathering toward his right hand.
Soon, a massive water sphere, ten meters in diameter, formed in John's hand.
Everyone was stunned by this sight.
John inserted his wand into the water sphere and softly chanted once more, "Expecto Patronum."
The albatross rushed towards the water ball, and after entering, the water ball changed.
Like a newborn bird unfurling its wings, the water sphere expanded and morphed into a gigantic albatross, glowing with white light.
It soared through the air, swallowing the Dementors it encountered.
The creatures it devoured disappeared, unable to escape from within.
The albatross moved as though it was hunting, consuming every Dementor that had entered the Quidditch pitch, and even chasing down those attempting to flee.
Sweat, or perhaps rain, dripped from John's forehead, while his magic crystal rapidly depleted.
Out of the hundred Dementors that had arrived, more than twenty were devoured!
The giant albatross rushed towards the water ball, and after entering, the water ball changed.
finally landed, losing its form and reverting to a water sphere.
"Brilliant, absolutely brilliant!" Professor Flitwick clapped his hands so hard they turned red. His voice grew even more excited. "Combining a Patronus Charm with the Water Prison Spell—if this were in class, I'd award 100 points without hesitation!"
This voice shattered the stillness that had settled over the pitch, as all eyes turned to John in the stands.
With his right hand placed on his chest, John smiled and bowed slightly toward Professor Flitwick. "You're too kind," he said.
Powerful!
Graceful!
Two words came to everyone's mind: powerful and graceful.
""S-So Cool!!""
As they realized that John had driven away the Dementors, the young wizards erupted in deafening cheers.
John was smiling, but then he suddenly remembered something—he had forgotten about someone.
He looked up.
A figure was rapidly falling from the sky, and John, already too late to act, could only watch.
"Arresto Momentum!"
A loud voice rang out, and Harry's body, just moments from crashing into the ground, was suddenly halted in mid-air.
John turned toward the source of the voice—Dumbledore, who hadn't used a wand, but merely extended a hand.
Wandless magic!
John knew well the strength of this old wizard and respectfully bowed toward him.
Dumbledore smiled warmly, his gaze shifting to the giant Patronus-water prison, surprise glinting in his eyes.
It was an exceptional variation of a spell. Even Dumbledore had to admit that Voldemort would have stood no chance against John in his third year.
However, Harry wasn't as lucky. He had fainted, and unsurprisingly, Hufflepuff won the match.
Upon hearing that Harry had passed out, Cedric suddenly felt as if he had taken advantage of the situation.
In a gesture of sportsmanship, he proposed a rematch.
His graciousness impressed even Gryffindor, and if Wood had been a girl, he might have rushed over to confess his love to Cedric on the spot.
___________
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