Quidditch and Dementors

Hermione, still with her face down trying to disguise the tears in her eyes, was lost in thought as she followed the professor. 'Why did he help me? Will I have more trouble with Snape?' Her mind imagined many possibilities.

Noticing the young girl's unease, the professor turned his attention to her and said, "You don't need to worry, Miss Hermione. My teaching methods do diverge from those used by Snape." He continued, "You will not be affected by today's events." A rare smile graced his face to comfort the young girl.

Hermione raised her head and was captivated by the beautiful blue eyes of the professor. "Hum... Okay... thank you, professor," she replied.

"Now you can return to Gryffindor Tower; I will go to the Headmaster," he told her to reassure her.

Hermione, still lost in thought, made her way to the Common Room, 'I hope everything turns out fine.'

Nathaniel found himself in front of the office entrance and entered.

Facing him stood Dumbledore with his characteristic eyes filled with knowing sparkle.

"It seems you're already aware of the situation, aren't you, Headmaster?" he asked the old wizard.

"I believe so," Dumbledore replied.

Many actions at the school were not to Nathaniel's liking, and he suspected that the headmaster might be aware or even organizing some of these situations.

"If Lupin is not fit to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, I request that the class be given to me... To avoid situations like today, don't you agree? Headmaster," he addressed the matter that brought .

The gleam in Dumbledore's eyes intensified, but against Nathaniel, such actions had no effect. He sighed, "Remus will be fit after tomorrow's Quidditch game; you don't need to worry." He paused again and added, "I will also have a conversation with Severus," the wizard concluded.

Nathaniel was already aware of many of the potions master's actions and knew that the headmaster often turned a blind eye. He knew he couldn't expect much from this conversation between the two, but he had made his position clear to the headmaster at Hogwarts.

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Harry woke up extremely early the next morning; it was still dark outside. For a moment, he thought he had been awakened by the roar of the wind. Then, he felt a cold breeze on the back of his neck and sat up in bed. Right beside him, Peeves floated, blowing hard into his ear.

"Why did you do that?" asked Harry, furious.

Peeves puffed out his cheeks, blew hard, and shot backwards out of the dormitory, cackling.

Harry fumbled for the alarm clock and glanced at the display. It was four-thirty. Cursing Peeves, he turned over and tried to go back to sleep, but it was very difficult, now that he was awake, not to pay attention to the thunder rumbling in the sky, the wind violently lashing the castle walls, and the trees creaking in the distance in the Forbidden Forest.

In a few hours, he would be out there on the Quidditch field, facing the storm. Eventually, he gave up hope of going back to sleep, got up, dressed, grabbed the Nimbus 2000, and silently left the dormitory.

When he opened the door, something brushed against his leg. He bent down just in time to grab Crookshanks by the thick tail and dragged him outside. 'You know, I think Ron is right about you,' said Harry, suspiciously. 'There are quite a few rats in the castle... go hunt them. Come on,' the boy added, pushing Crookshanks with his foot to make him go down the stairs. 'Leave Scabbers alone.'

The noise of the storm was even louder in the common room.

Harry knew it was pointless to imagine the match would be canceled; Quidditch matches were not called off for trifles like thunderstorms. Still, he was beginning to feel apprehensive.

Wood pointed out Cedric Diggory in the corridor; the fifth-year student was much larger than Harry.

Seekers were usually light and fast, but Diggory's weight would be an advantage in this weather because there was less chance of the Seeker being knocked off course. Harry killed time until dawn by the fireplace, occasionally getting up to prevent Crookshanks from sneaking back upstairs to the boys' dormitory.

Finally, he figured it was probably breakfast time, so he headed alone to the portrait hole.

"'Halt and fight, you mangy cur!'" shouted Sir Cadogan. "Ah, shut up," yawned Harry. He perked up a bit with a large bowl of porridge, and as soon as he began eating toast, the rest of the team appeared in the Great Hall.

"It's going to be a tough match," commented Wood, who didn't want to eat anything.

"Stop worrying, Wood," Alicia said to reassure him, "we won't melt in a little rain."

Obviously, it was much more than just a little rain. But such was the popularity of Quidditch that the entire school turned out to watch the match, as always. However, the players made their way down the gardens to the field, heads bowed against the fierceness of the wind, umbrellas torn from their hands. Just before entering the locker room, Harry saw Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, laughing and pointing at him, shielded by a huge umbrella on their way to the stadium.

The team donned the scarlet uniform and waited for Wood's pre-match speech, but there was none. The captain tried to speak several times, but the noise of the storm prevented anyone from hearing anything; he then shook his head and signaled for the others to follow him.

In the stands, Nathaniel contemplated the start of the match.

"It seems the Dementors are much closer to the stadium than they should be, don't you think, Headmaster?" he asked Dumbledore, who was sitting next to him.

"I have made it clear to the Minister the boundaries to be followed for these creatures to remain on guard, they must abide by the agreement," Dumbledore replied with a gleam in his eyes toward where the Dementors were stationed. 'But we must be prepared to act in case of any mishap,' he concluded his reasoning.

"Understood," nodding, Nathaniel resumed his vigilance, as a sense of urgency still lingered in his mind.

The wind was so strong that they staggered onto the field. If the spectators were applauding, the applause was drowned out by the sounds of thunder. Rain splattered against Harry's glasses.

How was he going to spot the Snitch like this? The Hufflepuff players approached from the opposite side of the field, wearing canary-yellow robes. The captains met and shook hands; Diggory smiled at Wood, but the latter couldn't open his mouth now, seemed to be suffering from tetanus, and just nodded.

During the match, Harry couldn't see very well because of the water accumulating without his glasses. Forcing Wood to request a timeout so that Hermione could cast a spell to help him.

Hermione's spell solved the problem. Harry was still numb from the cold, even wetter than he had ever been in his life, but he could see. Full of renewed determination, he urged his broom through the turbulent air, scanning all around for the Snitch, avoiding a Bludger, diving underneath Diggory, who was flying in the opposite direction... Thunder rumbled again, accompanied by a forked lightning. The match was becoming more dangerous by the minute.

Harry needed to reach the Snitch quickly.

Observing Hermione's action, Nathaniel was delighted with the young witch's intelligence and her ability to adapt to various situations. Considering if she could be included in his search for students for the Dueling Club.

Returning to Harry, he turned, intending to head for the center of the field, but at that moment, another lightning illuminated the stands, and Harry saw something that distracted him completely... the silhouette of a huge, black, shaggy dog, clearly outlined against the sky, motionless in the last row of empty seats.

Harry's numb hands slipped from the broomstick handle, and his Nimbus dropped a few feet. Shaking the soaked fringe away from his forehead, he squinted again to see the stands.

But something strange was happening. An inexplicable silence was falling over the stadium.

The wind, although still strong, momentarily forgot to roar. It was as if someone had muted the sound, as if Harry had suddenly gone deaf - 'what was happening?'

Then a terribly familiar wave of cold assaulted him, penetrated his body, at the same instant that he became aware of something moving down on the field.

Before he had time to think, Harry averted his eyes from the Snitch and looked down.

At least a hundred Dementors were pointing their hooded faces at him. It was as if icy water was rising up to his chest, cutting into the sides of his body. And then he heard it again... Someone was shouting, shouting inside his head, and it sounded like a woman: "Please, not Harry, not Harry, please, not Harry!" the voice cried.

As the creatures closed in on the young wizard, at that moment a voice chanting a spell was heard.

"Expecto Patronum!" even the Dementors must have felt the chill in the voice that cast the spell. Nathaniel conjured a corporeal Patronus, which took the form of a giant eagle, and directed it to prevent the creatures from attacking Harry even more.

The blue and silver eagle cut through the sky toward the young wizard.

"Stay back, you fool... stay back, now..." another voice, now a sinister one, also echoed in Harry's mind.

"Not Harry, please not him, take me, kill me instead of him..." the screams continued, and a numbing mist swirled, filling Harry's brain as he thought, 'What was he doing? Why was he flying? He needed to help her... She was going to die... She was going to be murdered.' He was falling, falling endlessly through the freezing mist. "Not him! Please... have mercy... have mercy..." the woman screamed.

Losing consciousness, Harry managed to catch sight of Director Dumbledore waving his wand, and beside him, Professor WinterHeart also seemed to be casting a spell with his wand raised. And in the end, all that was left was darkness.