Chapter 561: All Clear
"What are they doing here?!" Ron yelled, his voice cracking with terror.
The stadium was in an uproar. The spectators had lost all interest in the game.
Sean could see students bolting upright in the stands, their first instinct
being to flee the freezing encroaching darkness.
The Dementors were gliding toward them—not fast, but with a relentless, rhythmic
grace.
"We have to get a professor!" Hermione said, her voice high and frantic.
Sean knew the staff were already on their way, but at the rate the creatures
were moving, at least one unlucky student would receive a "kiss" before the
teachers arrived.
"To the entrance," Sean said. His voice was slow and raspy from his illness, but
it carried an undeniable weight.
As the group moved down the stands, the other students noticed Sean's pale face
and the intense green of his eyes. They instinctively parted like a tide to let
him through.
"Are you going to use it, Sean?" Hermione whispered. "But there are so many of
them this time."
They were moving past the changing rooms now, heading toward the heart of the
cold. Up close, the cloaked figures looked even more repulsive, plumes of black
smoke seeping from beneath their hoods.
"The Patronus is their natural enemy," Sean muttered.
Even though he looked like he needed a bed and a warm blanket more than a duel,
his friends felt a sudden surge of confidence just by standing near him. They
flanked him like a personal guard until they were the closest students to the
advancing line of Dementors.
The creatures were accelerating now. To a Dementor, a stadium filled with
high-energy teenagers—the excitement, the adrenaline, the raw emotion—was a
buffet they couldn't resist.
"It isn't dinner time yet..." Sean whispered to himself. He raised his wand.
"Expecto Patronum!"
[You have practiced the Patronus Charm at a Master standard. Proficiency +300]
The students watched, dazzled, as a burst of brilliant light erupted from the
tip of Sean's wand. It wasn't just a mist this time; it was a solid, glowing
animal made of pure moonlight.
The silver cat didn't make a sound as it bolted across the grass. It dove
headfirst into the mass of Dementors, weaving between the leading shadows. The
effect was instantaneous. The creatures recoiled, scattering like smoke in a
gale. In seconds, they had vanished back into the mist at the edge of the
grounds.
The Patronus circled back, trotting slowly toward the group. It was a
magnificent silver cat, its coat as bright and pure as the moon.
"I missed it on the train, but I didn't blink this time," Justin whispered to
Hermione. "It really is a cat."
"Mmm," Hermione nodded, though her smile faded quickly. "Professor Flitwick said
it's one of the most advanced spells in the world. Justin, how's your practice
coming?"
"Er... well..." Justin gave her a sheepish grin and turned his focus back to the
pitch.
The Quidditch match, as everyone knew, would not be canceled for a "minor"
incident like a Dementor invasion. High above in the Gryffindor stands, Harry
was still darting through the freezing rain, his eyes searching frantically for
the Snitch.
He dodged a Bludger and performed a sharp dive under Cedric Diggory. A clap of
thunder shook the air, followed by a jagged streak of lightning. The weather was
worsening by the second. Harry knew he had to end this now. He turned his broom,
intending to head back to the center of the pitch.
Suddenly, a bizarre silence fell over the stadium.
The wind was still howling, yet it made no sound. It was as if someone had
suddenly turned the volume of the world down to zero. Harry felt as though he
had gone deaf.
He realized something was moving below him. He looked away from the sky and
peered down at the grass.
At least a hundred Dementors were standing there, their hidden faces all tilted
upward, watching him.
A wave of freezing water seemed to flood his chest, its icy fingers cutting into
his lungs. And then, he heard it again... the screaming in his mind.
"Not Harry! Not Harry! Please, not Harry!"
"Stand aside, you silly girl... stand aside, now..."
"Not Harry, please, kill me instead—take me—"
A numbing, white mist flooded Harry's brain. What am I doing? Why am I flying? I
have to help her... she's going to die... they're going to kill her...
"NOT HARRY! PLEASE... HAVE MERCY... HAVE MERCY..."
A shrill, manic laugh erupted in his ears, followed by a woman's scream. Then,
the world went black.
"Are you alright, Harry?"
Harry opened his eyes to find himself lying on the grass. A circle of faces
hovered over him. Sean was the closest, and it was his voice Harry had heard.
"What happened?" Harry asked, his mind a total muddle.
"You fell," Sean said simply.
"From about fifty feet up," Ron added, looking shaken. "If Sean hadn't pointed
his wand and done some kind of deceleration magic on you, you'd be a pancake
right now."
"Oh... thank you, Sean," Harry whispered. He tried to listen for the whistle,
but the game was already over. He saw the Hufflepuff team celebrating in the
distance. He didn't need to ask who had caught the Snitch.
"The Dementors..."
Harry saw the Gryffindor team running toward them. People in the stands were
beginning to applaud. He hesitated, then the question he'd been harboring since
the train burst out of him:
"Why? Why do they affect me like that? Am I... am I just weak?"
"You think you're weak?" Sean's green eyes seemed to peer directly into Harry's
thoughts.
Harry nodded silently, looking at the ground.
"Dementors affect you more than the others because there is a horror in your
past that no one else in this school has had to face," Sean explained.
The storm was finally beginning to subside. Through the receding rain, Harry
looked into those calm, emerald eyes. Sean was still pale from his illness, yet
his presence was more grounding than the earth beneath them.
"Dementors are among the foulest things to walk this earth," Sean said. "They
infest the darkest, filthiest places, they glory in decay and despair, and they
drain peace, hope, and happiness out of the very air around them.
"If they can, the Dementor will feed on you until you are like itself...
soulless and evil. They leave you with nothing but your worst memories. And your
worst memory, Harry, is enough to make anyone fall from a broom. You have
nothing to be ashamed of."
Harry's throat worked as he tried to find a reply.
"You don't need to tell us, Harry," Sean added, his eyes telling Harry that he
already knew the nature of the "worst memory."
Just then, the crowd parted. A tall, silver-haired wizard was striding toward
them, his face set in a look of grim determination. Dumbledore had arrived.
☆☆☆
-> SUPPORT ME WITH POWER STONE
-> FOR EVERY 200 PS = BOUNS CHAPTER
☆☆☆
-> 30 Advanced chapters Now Available on Patreon!!
-> https://www.pat-reon.co-m/c/Inkshaper
(Just remove the hyphen (-) to access patreon normally)
If you like this novel please consider leaving a review that's help the story a lot Thank you